tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61273659720352850212024-03-05T06:46:04.921-05:00roots and branchesIf you're looking to find out how the McCrorys are growing -- taller, deeper, or otherwise -- this is the place to start. Of course, the best place is over a meal at our home, but when miles and time are between us, we hope this will still help our relationship to grow.keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-51099241680652815652014-05-28T01:18:00.001-04:002014-05-28T08:05:26.334-04:00to the director of the musicI would know those small hands anywhere. <br />
The way the round thumb touches the short fingers<br />
or only one of them, but all at the same time. <br />
I know the clothes you wear<br />
on occasions such as these <br />
and how they must enable you to boldly turn your back on the world<br />
to face the rest of us.<br />
I know the way you turn so that <br />
your eyes see our eyes<br />
or only one person's, but all at the same time.<br />
<br />
I have studied your face,<br />
watched the movement of its lines<br />
over the course of years.<br />
I know how to anticipate your every move<br />
in this dance we love to do. <br />
It's our dance, but<br />
perhaps lovers understand. <br />
Or poets, perhaps. <br />
Don't ask the puppeteer; We give our consent. <br />
Ask the good Lord. Maybe He knows best<br />
this dance<br />
where your hands do this <br />
(and I do that)<br />
and swirl the air around them<br />
swell the sound of soul-dance till it fills every crevice.<br />
I look into your eyes<br />
and together we<br />
stir up the Spirit's dance <br />
inside your hands<br />
and behind our eyes.<br />
Such small hands<br />
grasping at souls until<br />
there are no spectators. <br />
I would know those small hands anywhere. keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-21295065733421639562014-01-07T17:18:00.003-05:002014-01-09T15:10:01.601-05:00fear and faith and fumbling the foodA man named Soren once wrote a book about faith called, "Fear and Trembling." Though I read it and loved it, I must admit I don't remember many details. The subject and title, however, stick with me like a patch on a scout's uniform. I run my finger over their embroidered outline when I need reminded that fear is not an uncommon companion of faith. <br />
<br />
Not long ago, a friend of mine posted a quote about religion being an opiate for people who have not learned how to cope on their own without it. I thought it and chanted it myself enough in college that it feels like some out-dated political slogan to me now. "Ah...the opiate of the masses stuff again. Well, good thing I don't have to believe someone's opinion just because they said it loudly," I thought. But inside, I started wondering again. "Do I just believe what I do because someone <i>else</i> said it?" "Why is it I believe what I believe about God, again?" "Are my reasons any better or do we all just pick what someone else said that we like and believe it?" <br />
<br />
Ugh. Will my mind never tire of bringing these things up? Most days, I simply remind my mind that we've already been through all of this and I don't want to re-play the years it took to arrive back at this point of departure. If other people think I'm weak or not smart or whatever, they can think it. Belief in God is at least as rational as anything else out there. I have yet to see any other reasonable explanation for, say, existence. <br />
<br />
All the same, I want my belief to be active and <i>now</i> -- not just something I decided back then. I become afraid that I'm living more in laziness than in true faith, more in not feeling like asking the questions than in trusting God for the answers to them (if they are to be answered). Maybe I have to address these questions (again), after all. At the very least, I need to ask God to help me in my unbelief. Perhaps He will show himself to me again in some way that I could not have conjured up. <br />
<br />
Wait. Am I asking God to show up because I believe He will or because I'm afraid He won't? Is one question faith and the other not? Since I have pledged to follow Jesus, (ah, Jesus...much easier to follow than my own set of ideas and proofs!) I don't want to act in bad faith. I'm like Thomas, saying, "I believe! Help me in my unbelief!" when I was just thinking about how unlikely it was that I would ever have my questions satisfied. Thomas was good enough for Jesus, right? Am I only looking to scrape out a passing grade? Here's that fear and trembling, again. I'm afraid of leading people somewhere I am not sure we have business going. I'm also afraid of having an empty faith. I remind myself that we all have faith in something and it makes great sense to place my faith in the Maker of the universe -- especially if that Maker was willing to come and die for me. It doesn't sound very likely, though. Could you repeat yourself again, God? I'm so hard of hearing and quicker to forget than Israel. I may be one of the worst Christian leaders ever. Don't follow me, guys. Find your own way. <br />
<br />
Enter my friend, Lauren, asking me to serve communion. I had just recently been talking with her about how meaningful it had been to me once when I had served it before. I had cried the whole time as I announced to each person that Jesus died for him, for her. This is not that time. This is a time when I feel so distant from God that it feels almost hypocritical to go around offering Him to anyone else. But I've just told her earlier this week how much I like serving communion, so here it goes. I hope this is somehow okay with God. I'm hypocritical if I do and hypocritical if I don't. So I sing the songs as earnestly as I can. I listen to others share their fresh experiences with God and feel completely happy for them. I take the bread in my hands and say the words. <br />
<br />
"My sister, my brother, this is the body of Christ, broken for you." <br />
<br />
Person after person, we look each other in the eye. "This is the body of Christ, broken for you," I say, before they tear off a piece to dip in the juice. Each time, there is the moment where it's just me talking to the person in front of me. "This is the body of Christ, broken...." For just a small moment, I've said the words without having given them anything. It's just the other person -- the person I've known for years, the person whose name I cannot remember, the child I knew as a baby -- and me, saying, "This is the body of Christ, broken for you." It's as though, just for a split second, I'm talking about myself. I greet them with just myself: "My sister, this is the body of Christ, broken...." Then the moment shifts to the bread they're actually tearing and then it's that small moment again with just me and the next person in line. I gradually begin to realize the truth of both moments. There's the bread I'm offering, but there's also myself. In both cases, I only have the smallest bit of anything to give. I watch the loaf of bread being picked away until it becomes difficult to know what it looked like when it was whole. I feel myself unraveling in the same way. <br />
<br />
"This is the body of Christ, broken..." <br />
and I recognize Him in my own skin again enough to be okay announcing it:<br />
"...for you." <br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-10499184206404206522013-10-27T17:07:00.001-04:002013-10-27T17:07:45.193-04:00low-hanging fruitIt's not often someone walks down the sidewalk on Ninth Street. We have a lot of pedestrians -- I make sure my sidewalks are cleared for them -- but people walk in the streets around here. All the better, because my curiosity is satisfied when I am able to see the faces of passers-by. I may pop out and holler at some of the young people I know. If it's a stranger, we both go on about our business. <br /><br />Today, while I was sitting in the chair that overlooks Ninth Street, I was just able to see a bouncing mop of curly hair over the lip of my front porch as someone came down the sidewalk. It reminded me of a friend's brother's hair. I wondered if his face was also similar to the man's face I know. He came closer and closer toward the house and seemed very comfortable stepping into my front strip. (I cannot call it a yard.) He seemed so at ease stepping into the grass towards my front steps I thought perhaps he was a familiar person happening by for a visit. Then I saw his hand reach up and pick an apple off my apple tree! <br /><br />I act without thinking in these situations. My gut instinct is almost always to confront strangers directly. I took the three steps to my door and opened it up to find him just at the bottom of the stairs. An older woman was with him. "I knew you'd get caught!" she said, smiling in a way that said she was definitely embarrassed and possibly the grown man's mother. <br /><br />"You will want to cut that open first," I told him. "They're bad in the middle." (I will make sure to spray the blossoms next year.) <br />He clearly did not want to stop to chat. "Oh, really?" <br />"Yeah. So you might not want to just bite into it. We will gladly share them with you, but please just ask." I wasn't being holy saying it. It was a script I had memorized. I had told myself I had to be willing for the apples to be stolen. If it's possible to invite people to steal, planting an apple tree 4 feet from the sidewalk and leaving its golden apples dangling there is as good an invitation as any. I have to convince myself to share and say I'm glad to do it until it's true. It gets truer each day. <br /><br />The man kept walking and I went in my house, thinking over what had happened. If I was really that glad to share, perhaps I would not have opened the door to tell him so. I don't know. I'm not perfect, so I returned to my seat to process my sense of injustice at someone nonchalantly plucking and apple I had planted and tended for a year. <br /><br />I really would give him the apple if he asked. I'd be a jerk not to, right? It reminded me of this story from Luke 11. I'm quoting it from The Voice Bible. <br />
<div class="left-1">
<span class="text Luke-11-5" id="en-VOICE-24647"><sup class="versenum"><br /><br /> 5 </sup>Imagine
that one of your friends comes over at midnight. He bangs on the door
and shouts, “Friend, will you lend me three loaves of bread? </span> <span class="text Luke-11-6" id="en-VOICE-24648"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>A friend of mine just showed up unexpectedly from a journey, and I don’t have anything to feed him.” </span> <span class="text Luke-11-7" id="en-VOICE-24649"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>Would you shout out from your bed, “I’m already in bed, and so are the kids. I already locked the door. I can’t be bothered”? </span> <span class="text Luke-11-8" id="en-VOICE-24650"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>You
know this as well as I do: even if you didn’t care that this fellow was
your friend, if he keeps knocking long enough, you’ll get up and give
him whatever he needs simply because of his brash persistence!</span><span class="text Luke-11-9" id="en-VOICE-24651"><sup class="versenum"> </sup></span></div>
<div class="left-1">
<span class="text Luke-11-9" id="en-VOICE-24651"><sup class="versenum"> 9 </sup>So
listen: Keep on asking, and you will receive. Keep on seeking, and you
will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened for you. </span> <sup class="versenum">10 </sup>All who keep asking will receive, all who keep seeking will find, and doors will open to those who keep knocking.</div>
<div class="left-1">
<span class="text Luke-11-10" id="en-VOICE-24652"><br />I start imagining the conversation that I didn't continue having with the man. <br />Just ask! I will give it, but I'd rather that you'd ask! If you don't ask, you're assuming I wouldn't give it to you. You assume I'm stingy and that you have to steal to get what is mine. If you just ask, I can give it to you. You can have it and we can talk face to face. I can tell you all about why it's the best apple on earth. You can know you're eating a Gold Rush apple. You can know this is the perfect time to pick them and you can come back next year at the same time. I can learn your name and address you as who you are instead of knowing you only as the man who stole my apple. If you'd just ask, we could chat and know each other a bit and the apple would be truly yours. As it is, you're eating my stolen fruit. You can't look me in the face and I can't look you in yours.<br /><br />Maybe I should put up a sign in my yard that says, "It takes more courage to ask than to steal." It's quicker and easier to just snatch it, but if people just ask, we can know each other a bit and aren't left making so many assumptions. <br /><br />And I start to wonder if God doesn't have these same wishes in regard to us. How often do we try to snatch things to provide for ourselves instead of just asking for them? It's quicker and easier to just get what we can and go on. But to stop, knock, and ask takes some time and being willing to look each other in the eye for a bit. </span><span class="text Luke-11-10" id="en-VOICE-24652"><span class="text Luke-11-10" id="en-VOICE-24652">It takes courage to go to the Person to Whom All Things Belong to ask. What if we get turned down? What if we're not good enough? What if that apple is being saved for someone better than us? What if we get told no? It's a risk and we have to summon courage to take it; stealing requires boldness, perhaps, but not true courage. <br /><br />But what if that fruit is planted there as an invitation? I've planted my tree where anyone might pick it in hopes of learning how to be more generous of heart. What if God has planted good things out of his generosity? The truth is that my apples don't belong to just me or my friends. I determined in advance that they belong to whoever asks for them. I think God may be the same way. His goodness, even His entire kingdom belongs to whoever finds the courage to ask for it. If we ask, then if we are granted it, it can be truly ours. If we snatch, we're stuck eating the forbidden fruit again. What should I be asking for instead of plotting to snatch? </span></span></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-88924293344981732462013-09-01T23:10:00.001-04:002013-09-02T08:50:39.911-04:00Home: the already and the not yet. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6iN9fXl_uwrFLegzozWdmbk7BZLLuzaS3FoI2JH01HLQcL5IVdLD_KXvZKWn-bkn0cceLa5_O7MsyjNwaj-eitIfcRbIJGwKza2lHFoUkNUylPYcKi_uknCti-btOnR96tyqgqhtnNc/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Home. <br />
It's an idea that has haunted me for much of my adult life. <br />
In college, the idea was of particular importance to me. I had left my parents' home and was, perhaps, more anxious than most to establish "home" for myself. I was not in love with the landscape in east central Indiana, but with all the people brought together by that remote location, I learned that something about those people, if not that place, was Home. <br />
<br />
The problem with finding your home in people is that people move away. There was a mass exodus that took place where all of my closest friends moved away, either to the other side of the nation or to another nation entirely. It left me feeling homeless and lost. I found myself surrounded here in Muncie by an entirely different group of people than I had known before in this place. Our new, two-person family moved into a different neighborhood and everything felt foreign and unfamiliar. I had spent years surrounded by hippie-types (at least that's what some people called us) and was having trouble adjusting to an urban culture I had never known. Though most of my immediate neighbors here are white, the culture of the neighborhood is a bit different than what I'm used to. Over the last few years, we have also become more and more immersed in the African American community in Muncie. It's been years of culture shock for me, honestly. <br />
<br />
I'm not writing today to say to anyone that I have arrived or that I am fluent in any part of the culture into which I am a transplant. It's not that I have arrived; it's that I've been welcomed by some gracious hosts. And I have to say thanks. <br />
<br />
This weekend, my friend Tasha had us come to her family reunion. There were people there from all over the country! My family has a great big reunion, but this was bigger than the Sherman family get-together. I was one of only a few other pale faces gathered in the corner of the past-capacity cabin at Heekin Park that was reserved for honored guests.<i> Honored guests.</i> We were invited to sing. I am glad we sang first because almost immediately afterward, it was obvious that just about everyone in the room has some crazy musical talent. Anyone at that family reunion could've stood up there to sing, yet they invited us. Room was made and we were invited and welcomed in. The reason: Tasha said she couldn't wait for her family to meet her family. How awesome to be able to make it happen! How beautiful is that?! <br />
<br />
Some of her other family joined us for service this morning where, once again, her family got to meet her family. I enjoyed worshiping God with my brothers and sisters. I don't like to brag about my church, because we aren't here to make the name of our church great. However, there are things I've learned here that it would be hard to learn almost anywhere else. As I watched one of my girls pack up and leave this weekend and as we prayed for my friend, Jen, who is moving to take care of elderly family members, I cried and cried because it feels like part of my family is missing. Jen said it this morning, and I think she is right: This church has taught me so much about what it really means to be the church. On any given Sunday, I can look out from behind my mic and see a miniature, Muncie-version of "every tribe, every tongue, and every nation" singing back at me. And the people in the congregation see an even smaller, diverse group of brothers and sisters leading them in music. We're doing this together.<br />
<br />
Today, as I looked out on familiar faces that have welcomed me into their lives and as I felt the pain of people moving on past this place to whatever lies ahead of them, I realized that this place that used to feel foreign and unfamiliar has become Home. These people I did not know have become Family. We may not share the exact same sense of humor (you don't really have to laugh at my puns; groans are just fine) or the same taste in food (I'm sorry about those chitlins. This veggie-lover tried...:) ) or the same mama or daddy or even cousins. We are family because we have been welcomed, first by God, and also by each other. It's not about what all we have in common or what about us is the same. There may be only one thing the same, being that we are rebellious children forgiven by our Father. Whatever other different things we may have are all brought to the family table and shared. I see pictures of this as my friend who sings country joins my friend who sings hard rock and my friend who sings gospel and my friend who loves to rap all in one song of praise. I see it in the table of food we all contribute to each week so we can sit down and eat together as family. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzx0hK6G0ANjV2aJ4Q2o7zgY35AdGfYKjmIvizY2mrbesOxcsqOGu30wOwovpUNkLBMWi8tZ6HYR-DpGgT8RYbDYYo5PTYpXwYdhVg1cS-sqO6cN42pzCpOzSloF5aVbqF549IC5f1D4/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzx0hK6G0ANjV2aJ4Q2o7zgY35AdGfYKjmIvizY2mrbesOxcsqOGu30wOwovpUNkLBMWi8tZ6HYR-DpGgT8RYbDYYo5PTYpXwYdhVg1cS-sqO6cN42pzCpOzSloF5aVbqF549IC5f1D4/s320/DSC_0033.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The only problem is that here, home is temporary. Here in the heart of the Crossroads of America, family often meets family only for a minute or a season before going different ways. I look forward to the day when my family will meet my family and continue getting to know each other without end. That will be Heaven. That will be Home. I can't wait. <br />
<br />
<br />
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ." - Ephesians 2:13<br />
----<br />
I could've tried to post pictures of my family for you to see, but there are already quite a lot of them on our <a href="http://www.urbanlightmuncie.com/" target="_blank">website</a> and on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Urban-Light-Community-Church/254608463896" target="_blank">facebook page</a>. But these two of a recent outdoor service went nicely with the roots and branches theme, don't you think? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6iN9fXl_uwrFLegzozWdmbk7BZLLuzaS3FoI2JH01HLQcL5IVdLD_KXvZKWn-bkn0cceLa5_O7MsyjNwaj-eitIfcRbIJGwKza2lHFoUkNUylPYcKi_uknCti-btOnR96tyqgqhtnNc/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6iN9fXl_uwrFLegzozWdmbk7BZLLuzaS3FoI2JH01HLQcL5IVdLD_KXvZKWn-bkn0cceLa5_O7MsyjNwaj-eitIfcRbIJGwKza2lHFoUkNUylPYcKi_uknCti-btOnR96tyqgqhtnNc/s320/DSC_0027.JPG" width="320" /></a>keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-76684021680346912182013-06-19T21:38:00.001-04:002013-06-27T15:43:05.341-04:00things I love: a family update When I started this blog, a lot of it was dedicated to my kids. We were in their first years of life and everything was new! <br />
"Look! They just learned to sit up!" <br />
"Here are their first words." <br />
"Oh my goodness, look how much they've grown!" <br />
"We have a crawler on our hands...." <br />
"Watch this video of the first time (okay...ALMOST the first time...) they took steps!" <br />
And on and on. <br />
There's this funny thing that has happened as they have gotten older. Continuing to publicly celebrate firsts starts to feel braggy. Over these years, several friends have had children who haven't or probably won't get to their firsts as quickly as mine. Some of them may never get to do these things for a first time. I've worried that me being excited about my kid doing something for the first time might make them feel like they're missing out or like I think my kid's better than theirs. Sometimes we act as though saying one kid's awesome at something implies that all other kids aren't awesome at that. Especially as they get older, kids start to reach milestones at very different times because they have very different strengths. <br />
What my friends of kids with special needs have taught me is that this is not a competition. They have gracefully demonstrated that we can be excited for my kids when they learn to walk and be (probably 10 times more) excited when theirs learns to walk. We can affirm how awesome it is that my kid does x thing and how awesome it is that their kid does thing y. One of us saying, "My kid just sounded out her first word!" means neither, "Your kid is dumb and you suck as a parent because your kid hasn't yet..." nor, "I should feel less excited because your kid learned this a long time ago." Even kids of similar ability focus on different things. I'm pretty word-oriented; I've taught my kids about words. My adventurous friend has kids who can climb trees and swim. Another friend has a kid who can name and recognize all the presidents. When I would find these things out, I used to panic. "Crap! Should I have taught them that, instead?!" <br />
(Okay, sometimes I do still worry that perhaps skills that can save your life -- like swimming -- may have been more important. But then I decide my kids can just stay away from bodies of water where they can't read the signs designating depth and such for a few more years. See? Different abilities are fine!) <br />
I say all this because I still want to celebrate my kids' achievements, especially if they've been working hard on them. They may be getting older and their firsts may come in a completely different order than others, but that's fine. My kids can be awesome like they are and your kids can be awesome like they are. This should be obvious to us all, but we need to be reminded. (At least I do!) <br />
<br />
So here are some of the firsts in our family, not for those keeping score, but for those who enjoy celebrating. <br />
- Israel went quiet in his reading for quite some time, refusing to try to read out loud if he thought a book might be hard. But today he started reading a chapter book out loud to me for the first time without freaking out. It said things like, "Buster wedged himself into Arthur's seat. '<i>My</i> fault?' he said, 'You're the one who called Francine a marshmallow.'" <br />
- At the beginning of the spring, Eden forgot that she had ever peddled at all and refused to try a bike -- even with training wheels! (This, though I have a picture of her independently riding a tricycle at some ridiculously young age. So frustrating when you <i>know</i> they can do something and they won't....) I remember a spring day of her screaming like she was being tortured as I held onto her and moved her bike in a circle around a small parking lot. But yesterday, Eden tried out a bike without training wheels. I had to hold on the whole time, but she tried it without screaming bloody murder. She's super proud of herself. <br />
- Eden asked to read to me today. She ASKED. I've been teaching her to read here and there for over a year now, and she's proud once she's finished a book, but getting her to pay attention and read from start to finish has been like pulling teeth. Today, though, she ASKED to read to me on her own. She reads sentences like, "I forgot to close the gate and Glory got out." (Thanks, <a href="http://www.starfall.com/n/level-a/learn-to-read/load.htm?f" target="_blank">Starfall</a>!) <br />
- Israel and Eden both put their faces under water for the first time, which was a tremendous act of courage for them. (For Iz more than for Eden, whom I believe is only "afraid" to do it because he is.) We're working on not running out of the water to immediately wipe faces with towels. We'll get there....<br />
- The kids rode their first adult roller coaster. No big drops or upside-down stuff, but fast and crazy, anyway. They LOVED it. They want to do it again and again. I can't wait to take them to Kings Island and let them ride the big rides, though they probably aren't quite tall enough to do it now. But it won't be long, because...<br />
- Eden just grew 3 inches in 6 months and is now taller than 75% of the kids her age. WHAT?! She used to be shorter than 97% of them! <br />
- I'm getting size 7 pants for when Israel starts kindergarten in the fall. I'm a bit unsure which part of that sentence makes me feel more uneasy. <br />
- Eden has figured out how to swing herself without needing a push...just this evening! YES!!!! <br />
- Iz gets all happy and puts on an air of sophistication about making his own snacks and helping cook things in the kitchen. He's starting to be a great helper. It's been some time now since he first started getting breakfast for himself and his sister (while I pretend I actually get to sleep in) in the mornings. <br />
- Iz is learning to play piano. He is pretty enthusiastic about it right now and will take "lessons" (about 5-10 minutes of instruction time) as often as I'll give them. He's pretty proud of his songs and will happily play them for you. Right now, he loves playing the Star Wars theme he learned by rote and the 5-finger scale song he learned by reading the music.<br />
- Eden correctly used an apostrophe last week. If you know me, you know this puts joy into my geeky soul. That girl remembers how to spell just about anything I've ever had her write. She can now write "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY" with no assistance from me. I'm realizing she's not as on-her-own-wavelength as I thought she was. <br />
- Pat graduated college for the first time. I'm putting it here not because he's my child, but because it's a case in point that firsts achieved later or through more adversity can be so much sweeter. I did not see a need to throw a party when I graduated college; it was just completing the next-expected life-phase. But boy, did I throw a party when Pat graduated! Pat graduating was AWESOME!!! <br />
<br />
One more thing before I end this post. I learned something new recently. Seeing how my children want to perform for praise, I have wanted to make sure I praise them for the right things -- working hard more than being close to perfect, having a great attitude over winning, kindness over smarts, etc.. I can see how it's especially important for perfectionists and competitive people (No, I don't know any...). We need to encourage and be encouraged to try our best and be our best, even if it doesn't immediately yield perfect results. We need to be able to praise others when they do something we wish we could do instead of merely trying to up our talk or our game. It's also just true that I'm more proud of my kids for working hard to meet a challenge than I am when they do things that don't require much effort on their part. <br />
But on to that something I learned for the first time. Some friends had posted on facebook about <a href="http://www.handsfreemama.com/2012/04/16/six-words-you-should-say-today/" target="_blank">six words you should say today</a>. I highly recommend reading it. I tried it for the first time recently. (I think. I hope I've said this before, but I really don't remember...) Instead of saying how great my kids did at reading or how proud of them I am for learning that song, I said things like, "I love playing piano with you," or "I love listening to you read." My kids' responses were very like the ones in the article. (Go on. Read the article. It's well-said there, so I don't want to repeat it poorly here.) Both gave me big, not-arrogant smiles. One of them gave me a hug and a kiss. <br />
I'm proud of them for what they've done and how they're growing, but also I just love watching them as they do it. So I'm writing to celebrate things I love seeing my kids do. I love watching my kids grow and learn and change. (Not to say it isn't bittersweet when I remember back a few years or that part of me doesn't wish I could freeze them in time at this point or that one.) As I'm writing, I'm looking up at the Duplo structure Israel built and put on my mantle to show to anyone who comes in. It's not the tallest one or the most complex or the best representation or most imaginative, but I love listening to him talk about it and display it. It makes him happy...and me, too. keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-77591392428718606152013-06-16T17:50:00.000-04:002013-06-16T17:50:39.222-04:00Happy father's day! <div class="ecxMsoNormal">
I've been reading <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/biblical-womanhood/" target="_blank">A Year of Biblical Womanhood</a> by Rachel Held Evans. I have been refreshed reading what she has to say, especially about Proverbs 31. You may know that as the chapter in the Bible devoted to "The wife of noble character." I realize this seems like a funny place to start thinking about Father's day, but hang in there. As I was thinking about how to properly praise the fathers in our church today, I was reminded from Colossians 1 that our prayers for others spring out of our thankfulness for their good works. We are thankful for every good work that they do and we pray that God will cause each and every one to bear fruit. <br /><br />So back to Proverbs 31. So often we women (and maybe the men, too...I don't know...) read it as a checklist of things a good wife needs to do. Read like that, the list is exhausting and defeating. But Evans quotes Old Testament scholar Ellen Davis who says Proverbs 31 was written "not to honor one particularly praise-worthy woman, but rather to underscore the central significance of women's skilled work in a house-hold economy." Evans later tells of a Jewish friend of hers who says men sing the chapter to their wives before sabbath meals. How affirming! Reading it like this, I thought it was a shame such a chapter doesn't exist in the Bible that helps women know how to really praise their good men. It's amazing how being told you are something in this way makes you feel appreciated and also makes you feel like rising to the occasion. We all need these sorts of praises sung over us from time to time, and today is the day for Fathers. <br /><br />In keeping with my current ideas about Proverbs 31, I didn't want to write about just one husband in particular, so I asked women and children in our church to let me know some of the good works the fathers in our church should be praised for. I got quite a response and easily filled verses with the good works fathers I know do every day. My hope is that men will see themselves somewhere in these words and know that they are appreciated and encouraged as they continue on in good works. Chances are we all have some valiant fathers in our lives. Let's give them the praise they deserve! <br /><br />A valiant Father, who can find?<br />
He is worth more than diamonds and gold. <br />
His family has full confidence in him<br />
and has everything that is truly valuable. <br />
He brings good to his family <br />
every single day.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
He knows his way around the kitchen<br />
and he grasps the grill lid with seasoned fingers. <br />
With his own hands, he grows food <br />
and guests and neighbors always have a seat at his table. <br />
After dinner, he faithfully does the dishes. <br />
<br />
He gets up while it is still night<br />
to pray with and encourage his brothers. <br />
<br />
He considers a business and buys it, <br />
and out of his earnings, provides for the community. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
He takes his work seriously.<br />
His mind and body are strong for his work. <br />
<br />
With excellence, he selects wood <br />
to build toys that fuel his children’s imaginations. <br />
All through the day, he goes with them on adventures,<br />
showing them how to have courage and fight the good fight. <br />
Even when they are grown, he works day and night<br />
to help his children achieve their dreams,<br />
working to ensure their success.</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
His car is profitable in his use.<br />
He considers it nothing to drive miles and miles <br />
to ensure his children can spend time with their family,<br />
even with their mothers. <br />
He opens the passenger door for those in need<br />
and extends his mileage to help out. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
He ensures his children love their mother,</div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
leading by loving his wife,<br />
And he gracefully shares her burdens. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
His eyes eagerly seek out his children <br />
and love is in his gaze. <br />
His ears are always ready to listen. <br />
They are patient in their task. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
He sets out early to find work,<br />
and is able to trade with neighbors. <br />
When times are hard, he has no fear, <br />
but faithfully uses all his abilities, laboring hard to provide for his family.
<br />
His teaches his children how to conduct business <br />
and they are able to follow in his steps.<br />
<br />
At bedtime, he kneels and prays. <br />
He sings over his children. His voice is the delight of their ears. <br />
All through the night, he provides relief for their mother <br />
by answering their call for help and comfort.<br />
<br />
He has a place among the decision-makers and do-ers in this city,<br />
striving for a good place for children to learn and grow. <br />
<br />
He is clothed in strength and dignity.<br />
He can look forward to the years to come. <br />
His advice is trustworthy,<br />
for he speaks over his children the very word of God. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
His children recognize him as a blessing<br />
Their mother, also, praises him.<br />
“Many fathers are good, but you are the BEST!” <br />
<br />
Flattering words are deceptive and muscles are fading,<br />
but a father who puts God first is to be praised. <br />
<span class="ecxtextprov-31-31">Honor him for all that his hands have done,</span><br />
<span class="ecxtextprov-31-31">and let his good works make headlines!</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal">
<br /> <span></span></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-55992980145203463792013-05-13T16:20:00.001-04:002013-05-13T17:05:58.239-04:00the difference it makes This week, the kids visited the dentist for a routine cleaning. Pat was able to go with us for the first time ever. As things got started, I tried to prepare him for what was going to happen. "Israel does great," I said. "He thinks going to the dentist is a special treat." And sure enough, he climbed into the seat happily, laid right down, and watched the kids' programming on the TV screen over his head while waiting for the hygenist to come. Teeth cleaning? Loved it. X-rays? Cool. Sealant? Awesome. There's a kid to make you proud at the dentist. <br />
<br />
It's almost as though someone in the cosmos didn't want me to become too conceited during trips to the dentist, as though I had done all the right things to have the kid who is enthusiastic about dental care. Because of this, I was not only given that child, but I was also given THAT child: the one who totally freaks out the whole time. Eden always talks it up about how she's going to have courage or how she really likes the dentist all the way there, but when it comes time to deliver, it's a whole different kind of delivery. And sure enough, she was doing just great in the waiting area and all. "Does it usually start out worse than this?" Pat asked. <br />
"Nope." I said. "It always starts out fine. But just wait. I have never been here when I have not had to hold her legs down the whole time and she screams so loud and high that it'll make your ears bleed." The lady sitting down to do her job nodded in affirmation. "You've heard it, then?" I asked. <br />
"Yes, I think so."<br />
<br />
At that moment, I realized I had never had the opportunity to look any of the other adults in the room in the eye during my daughter's trips to the dentist. (And there was always more than one, with different people holding various limbs, astonished by how one flailing toddler/preschooler was nearly stronger than all of us combined.) After the ordeal, I never had the desire to look them in the eye, but bowed my head in shame and left as quickly as possible. I had never seen her face. <br />
Since I had parental back-up this time, I decided to take the time to get to know her name and face. Her name was Abigail. "Look, Eden! She has the same name as your friend!" I tried to chat it up about this wonderful discovery, hoping to provide some sort of connection or distraction for my daughter. I was glad to have Pat with me so I would not have to bear this experience alone. He had no idea what was coming. Abigail and I braced ourselves. So did Eden.<br />
And then the craziest thing happened. My daughter shut her eyes tight and stiffened up and just took it. No screaming. No kicking. Just one little girl deciding to take it. She let Abigail clean her teeth. She let the dentist look them over. She took the floride with no problem. <br />
<br />
I could not believe it. "Pat will never believe the horror stories now," I thought! Abigail gave me a look that said, "Of course it won't happen now that she has an audience." "Write it down!" I said. (So I am.) Incredible. I could tell she still hated it, but WOW! What a difference in how she dealt with it! <br />
On the way home, after praising her over and over, I asked her what the difference was. "Why did you decide to have courage this time?" <br />
And, sure enough, it had everything to do with Pat: "Because Daddy was there." <br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie: part of me is a little mad that none of my pep talks or soothing words ever did anything to help the horrible situation of Eden at the dentist. Pat didn't do anything special. He offered no reasons why it was going to be okay. He just sat there and held her hand. (SO much better than having to hold her hand AND her leg! I may be a tad jealous.) But another part of me understands: sometimes we just want our Dad. It is easier to find our courage when we can see our Dad there with us. No words from anyone else can take the place of that. <br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-84454162075955515472013-04-19T15:33:00.003-04:002013-05-13T17:31:36.315-04:00out of the mouth of my babe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/480500_10151307821831577_1095671680_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<a href="http://proxy.storify.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fdistilleryimage2.s3.amazonaws.com%2F3b5dbc48a8e911e2b52122000a1fa4b5_7.jpg&resize=1&w=490" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Last night at bedtime, Israel was complaining of is foot hurting. It was a minor issue, so I pulled out that line my dad used on me as a kid: "Do you want me to cut it off?" (As I child, I thought this was stupid, because of course it would hurt more to cut off your foot than it would to deal with the minor boo-boo. Kids can't realize this is the point of the question. So I add an explanation.) "Your foot can't hurt you if I throw it over there somewhere." <br />
<br />
This led immediately into a string of questions from my son that ended up with a discussion of prosthetic limbs and how it is possible to live and not die from losing a limb and how it is possible to walk, even if you're missing a leg. And then, of course, it led to giving an account of what has happened in Boston. It was time for prayer, anyway, and the subject seemed the logical bridge from hurting foot to prayer. Pat and I looked at each other and I dove in: <br />
<br />
"So tonight we can pray for people who have been hurt and are missing their legs. Lots of people in a city far away called Boston got their legs cut off by a bomb." <br />
<br />
The kids looked at me, waiting for further explanation for a second, so I continued to answer the silent "why" question by saying, "A couple of men left a bomb around a lot of people and it exploded and lots and lots of people were hurt really badly. It was a very bad choice for them to make...a very bad choice that really hurt a lot of people."<br />
<br />
I always hesitate before letting my kids know about such horrible events. Israel still prays for Syria lots of evenings after Pat informed him of that one world event something like a year ago. I don't want him to know about every bad thing that happens, because he does not forget them. I don't want my kids to be afraid of bad things happening. But since ignorance doesn't tend to make unafraid people, I try to tell them SOME bad things that I think they will hear about as we listen to the news. (As we have one starting kindergarten next year, we skipped Sandy Hook for the most part.) So I drop these things on them in a context of something to do about it. "You can pray about this because...." and then they aren't powerless; I'm telling them so they can do something about it. Even if it's for people far away. But I wait to see how this will affect them. Israel didn't ask any further questions, but sat thinking about it for awhile. Eden, who, has a completely unsuppressible spirit, piped up immediately about the people who had made the really bad choice that hurt a lot of people: "But Jesus still loves them."<br />
<br />
And so we prayed for them, too. <br />
<br />
I'm not the most filled-in on the details and on how different media outlets have portrayed the young men presumably responsible for creating the need for all the heroism we've read about. I have read people being upset that they were initially described in terms of skin color. As I tuned in today, there was mostly talk about ethnicity, religion, and place of birth. Would we make such a big deal of these things if the person was born and raised here and had light skin? I can't say for sure. <br />
<br />
But I do notice, on many levels in society, in times of tragedy and times of relative peace, we like to distance ourselves from people who make bad choices. We like to point out how people we would label "bad guys" are different from us. It's easier to find some way to cut them off from "us." We say to each other: "Here. You want me to cut it off for you so it won't hurt you?" I can't say for sure that's what is happening here. What I can say is that we need to guard against that. As humiliating as it is, Christians have to admit that we don't have anything up on <br />
<br />
And so we pray for EVERYONE'S hearts and lives who have been changed (or not) by this horrible choice/event, recognizing that the best thing that can happen is for God to be at work in the lives of all involved. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/480500_10151307821831577_1095671680_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Instead of focusing on why "that person" is different from us, Eden honed in on the very powerful and humbling thing that we have in common. The most basic and wide-reaching truth about me is the same for Dzhokhar Tsarnaev: "Even when we make bad choices, Jesus still loves us." And if I can't affirm this about him, I cannot truly believe it for myself. I don't know what Jesus's love will mean for Dzhokhar in his life or the next, but I know he wasn't created less in the image of God than I was. And Jesus didn't only die and rise again for people who meet some basic moral standard. I am no more worthy of forgiveness than he is. (Can one be "worthy" of forgiveness?) As an adult, I have a whole list of theological questions about this, but none of them advance my knowledge any further than what my daughter already knows: "Jesus still loves us, (all of us,) even if we do something wrong." <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://proxy.storify.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fdistilleryimage2.s3.amazonaws.com%2F3b5dbc48a8e911e2b52122000a1fa4b5_7.jpg&resize=1&w=490" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://proxy.storify.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fdistilleryimage2.s3.amazonaws.com%2F3b5dbc48a8e911e2b52122000a1fa4b5_7.jpg&resize=1&w=490" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/480500_10151307821831577_1095671680_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/480500_10151307821831577_1095671680_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.wdio.com/wdioimages/repository/2013-04/Boston%20bombing%20suspects(1).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.wdio.com/wdioimages/repository/2013-04/Boston%20bombing%20suspects(1).png" /></a></div>
<a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/480500_10151307821831577_1095671680_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-3287664024853988552013-03-20T15:04:00.000-04:002013-03-20T15:06:15.301-04:00where I'm writingI haven't been blogging as much these days. It's not that life isn't still happening. It is. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I do. Sometimes it's a bit difficult to figure out just one thing to say. But I have been writing in a less-structured sort of way and thought I'd share it for anyone who's interested.<br />
<br />
My friend Chad put up this website called Ask Two Questions. It's based on reading through the common lectionary. Every day, there is a brief passage and you're asked to think about what it's saying about God and you. (Sometimes I have a hard time teasing those two questions apart.) It's not overwhelming at all. If you don't get lost in writing like I do, it can take 5-10 minutes to prayerfully think it through. I'm a verbal processor, so it takes me awhile to "talk it out." But if you want to read where I've been writing, check it out. You are welcome to join in the discussion...or not. It has been beneficial to me, though, and if I think something's good, I'm going to share it. <br />
<br />
I'll list out for you a few of the topics that I particularly enjoyed as way of providing a sample for you. Maybe some one of you will enjoy it as much as I do. I'm titling them by my summary of what I took from the passage on the left, followed by the site's title for the passage on the right. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/20/treasure-in-clay-jars/" target="_blank">My God! Is that alive?! - Treasure in Jars of Clay</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/14/489/" target="_blank">That was then, this is now. - God Will Do A New Thing</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/live-in-love/#comments" target="_blank">Not sure even I'm controlling enough for this - Live In Love</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/the-joy-of-forgiveness/#comments" target="_blank">I'll just keep that to myself - The Joy of Forgiveness</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/04/divine-mercy-for-ephraim/#comments" target="_blank">Feeling labled - Diving Mercy for Ephraim</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/02/28/return-to-the-lord/#comments" target="_blank">Getting a free meal - Return to the Lord</a> <br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/02/22/the-lord-is-my-light/#comments" target="_blank">The only thing - The Lord is My Light</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/02/18/the-stoning-of-zechariah/#comments" target="_blank">Martyr 1: The Stoning of Zechariah</a><br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/02/19/the-stoning-of-stephen/" target="_blank">Martyr 2: The Stoning of Stephen</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://asktwoquestions.wordpress.com/2013/03/19/the-valley-of-decision/" target="_blank">The destructive safe place - The Valley of Decision</a>keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-55283903594978494072013-02-04T22:49:00.004-05:002013-02-04T22:59:27.359-05:00I made homemade ravioli like a champ! (This morning, I had <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2NU98NZF8o" target="_blank">"We are the Champions"</a> stuck in my head. I knew right then this Monday was going to be alright.)<br />
<br />
I'm getting into making homemade pasta. Usually meals that dirty that many dishes are left to Pat and the kids. However, over Christmas, I watched my dad making his homemade noodles for his famous (or infamous if you remember the time it fermented in jars in my dorm room...) chicken noodle soup. It must've inspired me. My dad used to take up the whole kitchen table rolling out the dough and cutting it into noodles with a pizza cutter. And then we got him a pasta maker. We also have a pasta maker that had sat on the shelf for...a long time. Too long. But not long ago, Dad told me how to make his homemade noodles. And down came the pasta maker from wherever it had been hiding. <br />
<br />
I don't usually like single-use kitchen gadgets, but pasta makers are actually worthy kitchen gadgets. They have cranks. Kids like to turn cranks and will help out because it's fun. Heck, <i>I </i>like to work cranks and will use the pasta maker because it's fun. It's like a playdough machine, but the results are edible. <br />
<br />
So, because I love when my dad does it, and because it's fun, I've been making homemade pasta noodles every chance I get. They are great for making lasagna, since you don't run the risk of breaking them or of trying to snap them off at just the right length. You don't have the cook/uncooked noodle dilemma. You do get custom-sized noodles that are as thin or as thick as you want. (I like a lot of thin layers, personally.) If waking up with Queen in your head isn't enough insurance of a good day, making pasta has proven to make every member of our family happy. Homemade pasta = good day insurance. <br />
<br />
My dad's recipe of "1 egg to each heaping scoop of flour...that's it!" works well for his soup noodles, but I was looking for something a little more pasta-like. We've tried out several recipes from online. Some were better than others. It seems, in terms of straight-up pasta, like spaghetti, semolina flour must be the way to go. I don't have any of that, but hope to try it out sometime. In the meantime, <a href="http://www.annies-eats.com/2011/01/10/homemade-pasta-tutorial-part-1-the-basics/" target="_blank">this recipe</a> I found on a site called Annie's Eats yielded the easiest-to-work-with pasta dough to date. (Dad, I will still use your recipe for soup noodles.)<br />
<br />
Of course, I don't strictly follow recipes, so my ingredient list was actually like this:<br />
1-2/3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for work surfaces<br />
2/3 cup whole wheat flour<br />
1/2 tsp. salt<br />
4 large eggs<br />
1 tbsp. olive oil<br />
<br />
The directions on <a href="http://www.annies-eats.com/2011/01/10/homemade-pasta-tutorial-part-1-the-basics/" target="_blank">the other website</a> are great, though she dirties waaaaay too many dishes. I just hand-mixed and kneaded mine in the bowl. (And when I say "kneaded," I really mean I just played with it like you would with playdough, because "kneading" is adult work instead of kids' play.) And she has an electric pasta maker?! Psssht. Not as fun. But read what she has to say if you're looking to try it out yourself. You'll be able to go forth in confidence.<br />
<br />
Thanks to a Superbowl produce sale, I had lots of colorful veggies on hand
and wanted to use them in a filled pasta like confetti. I like the idea of small pockets of party for dinner, so ravioli it was. My filling was different than<a href="http://www.annies-eats.com/2011/01/11/homemade-pasta-tutorial-part-2-stuffed-pastas/" target="_blank"> Annie's recipe</a>, but hers was a starting place. So I displaced some of the cheese with veggies. I don't measure these things, but this is roughly what I did. Use whatever veggies (or meat, I guess...) you like. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDtDzs_sBqcjPQfIYEkEL5mXs2Pk8rXa1yqRjBG6NxHYQdvGV9FjQA2Ldva4SVH7TbqQOVjGbcH-ykt-PPD6HK6WKkMm-pM_oEjnd5v2F0s3E7c8Tr-u3ngv5LMNSpVL2NpTVDkiMEn8/s1600/DSC_0104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDtDzs_sBqcjPQfIYEkEL5mXs2Pk8rXa1yqRjBG6NxHYQdvGV9FjQA2Ldva4SVH7TbqQOVjGbcH-ykt-PPD6HK6WKkMm-pM_oEjnd5v2F0s3E7c8Tr-u3ngv5LMNSpVL2NpTVDkiMEn8/s320/DSC_0104.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I realized about 1/3 of the way through my meal that this was worth of sharing.<br />
It's not a great photo, but here's what my ravioli looked like in real life. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>In a medium-sized pan, saute on medium to meduim-high heat:</i><br />
1/2 a medium zucchini, minced<br />
4 portabello mushrooms, minced<br />
1/3 cup? bell peppers, minced (I made use of bits of red, yellow, and orange ones.)<br />
salt to taste<br />
<br />
<i>In a medium-sized bowl, combine: </i><br />
about 1/2 a 15 oz. container of ricotta cheese<br />
a glob (1/4 cup or so?) of cottage cheese<br />
about 2 Tbsp. parmesan cheese (fresh is probably wonderful, but the powdered stuff was great.)<br />
whatever herbs and spices you like to taste. I tossed in a Sundried Tomato seasoning blend I was given for Christmas. Those bread dipping seasonings at Meijer make a great gift!<br />
<br />
<br />
Here in our town, you can get pre-made ravoili for a not-very-hungry 4 at Aldi for $2.99. I think this recipe fed five of us well. Pat and I were actually full from 11 pieces! And the cost? Roughly $3. But mine feeds more people and includes veggies and an hour or so of fun. So there. <br />
<br />
I'm sure people go wild with what they put in stuffed pasta. I, however, am just stepping into this world. If any of you want to step in with me, consider this your invitation. For those of you further along in this sort of culinary venture, please beckon me along with your ideas. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-51104169576520811132013-01-17T22:45:00.000-05:002013-01-17T22:45:59.680-05:00floorLast week, as a combination Christmas/parting gift for two girls close to us, a friend and I took two teenage sisters to a Indianapolis Museum of Art. We all loved it. (Having recently taken my own children there -- it's free -- I stand by my belief that the IMA is great for all ages. That is not the point of this post, but this isn't English class, so I can include it as a parenthetical if I want.) I was particularly excited to show the girls a particular work of art called, "Floor." <br />
<br />
I was floored the first time I experienced it. Excited to finally be able to touch something in the museum, I hurried up onto the Floor. (*Spoiler alert.* You may click to see a <a href="http://www.imamuseum.org/node/53548">far-away view of the piece I'm talking about</a>. I'm writing to give you a better picture of it, but you can skip this paragraph if you want to truly have your own first experience of it at the IMA.) At first I didn't notice anything special about it besides the weird, <a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS9wooHcQswYLvkDNKwnq7nDPVEdSorV7hyoVAO6pFb_ah6wvKCWw" target="_blank">multi-colored shag carpet </a>standing straight up under the casing. Then I saw a <a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQCSPpHnfeJhQckvnw_FPl2YqxK9F7Ku6aiuycx1BlD_j2ZLPfa" target="_blank">little face, frozen, looking up at me</a>. It startled me. I bent down. He was a plastic figurine similar to a G.I. Joe, dressed in street clothes, pushing upward on the casing. He looked trapped. I felt sorry for him. And, come to think of it, the person next to him. And, WHOA! The thousands and thousands of people all stuck under the casing, looking up at me as they held up the entire floor. All these little figures, frozen in their time, supporting my weight. <a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTAGEbXPH3_SjXWvNKTk1wykXNYCmoWnn8YLc__F786e-_oZSvggw" target="_blank">Such tremendous effort just to give me a place to walk. </a><br />
<br />
I thought of how many people must've gone before me, devoted their entire lives to something or someone that has served to support me now. How many people has it taken to give me my standing in this time and place? I thought of the "great cloud of witnesses" watching my path in life. I thought about how not everyone is so fortunate as me to have so many people who have done things merely to see me succeed. How many people have completed their journey and are now holding up the ground, looking to see what I will do from here? How many people's work did it take to give me all the advantages I have? How many slaves? How many civil rights leaders? How many parents and parents and parents? How many people I never met? How many people in the communities where I've lived? How many people's teaching, provision, prayers? How many? This many? More? I was overwhelmed with gratitude.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
-----</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Today, I attended a funeral of a man who has gone before me. Larry Bianco was a man who welcomed a much younger Pat McCrory into his home during a time he really needed some extra adults in his life. I had the pleasure of meeting him and of him serving me some of his famous-among-those-who-know-him hand made pizza. I watched him enjoy my kids and had what I learned was the common experience of being made to feel like part of his Italian family. The man did not scream perfection, but he did scream love and acceptance. Though he met Pat during some of Pat's more foolish years, Larry had this kind of rough, happy way of saying, "Eh...I always liked Pat," that felt like a hardy pat on the back and put all inadequacies to rest. I can't speak for what hearing those words did to Pat, but they made me exceedingly happy to hear. I've had some foolish years, too. It's amazing what just seeing good in people can do.<br />
<br />
Pat shared a bit at the funeral about how Larry Bianco had impacted his life by inviting him in, liking him, and being a consistent man in his life. I see Pat making pizza with Israel or inviting in a gang of kids who show up at the door or just plain liking people other people might not like. Those actions could be just part of who Pat is. But I also think he may truly have inherited some of Larry Bianco's loving hospitality. With that thought, I realize the deep gratitude I have for this man, though I only met him a couple of times. This man, remembered by many as a pillar in his own family, helped form the young man who would grow to be a wonderful husband and father in our own family. And now, from where we stand, he is frozen in time, having joyfully done what he could to raise the standing of those in his life...including Pat and me. <br />
<br />
I'm not trying to be someone who gives too much credit to the deceased. However, I really will never know where I would be without this man who made a difference in my husband's life, affecting who he became. As I'm standing on the Floor that is the platform of my own life, taking the time to really see this one man's face and the work of his hands to provide support helps me to see just how many more there may be, holding us up, making all this possible. So today, as Larry Bianco joins that cloud of witnesses for a great feast, I thank God for His faithfulness through this man that was able to make a difference even in my own life. Thanks for Larry, who chose to be a gift to Pat so that he is now a gift to me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOS8njGYP0Sz08rzLWEYZEPI6jzjBBRQ-g9oBU6zVFPDPb-lHvJ5lFKs2hUIVVPwJDz6B9-war-V6KqjcTEhweaRYPphifU8JcXPtJvI_n7nKV6j-JEL3yDciuO1_o6CRVPiqg7aFQbA/s1600/DSC_0055.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOS8njGYP0Sz08rzLWEYZEPI6jzjBBRQ-g9oBU6zVFPDPb-lHvJ5lFKs2hUIVVPwJDz6B9-war-V6KqjcTEhweaRYPphifU8JcXPtJvI_n7nKV6j-JEL3yDciuO1_o6CRVPiqg7aFQbA/s320/DSC_0055.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGOd3cSHhv1ruqA4Yq1_kZ2YDbwQ2i9Woi8HsHuqSZe8Yl0TLcMhppfriiJoJKdcCUg1VqyhRYgE7WiVlReyVRaWqi_cJvwF4WQiv5fZyL65HD59u8yiTwlKVtx7gHaVjm3LGa5i9H4Q/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGOd3cSHhv1ruqA4Yq1_kZ2YDbwQ2i9Woi8HsHuqSZe8Yl0TLcMhppfriiJoJKdcCUg1VqyhRYgE7WiVlReyVRaWqi_cJvwF4WQiv5fZyL65HD59u8yiTwlKVtx7gHaVjm3LGa5i9H4Q/s320/DSC_0063.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-61805591904561843622012-12-23T16:07:00.001-05:002012-12-23T16:09:58.734-05:00Advent week 4: Peace<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.woj
{mso-style-name:woj;}
span.small-caps
{mso-style-name:small-caps;}
span.indent-1-breaks
{mso-style-name:indent-1-breaks;}
span.textisa-26-12
{mso-style-name:"text isa-26-12";}
span.textisa-32-15
{mso-style-name:"text isa-32-15";}
span.textisa-32-18
{mso-style-name:"text isa-32-18";}
span.textisa-52-7
{mso-style-name:"text isa-52-7";}
span.textisa-54-10
{mso-style-name:"text isa-54-10";}
span.textjohn-20-21
{mso-style-name:"text john-20-21";}
span.textjohn-20-22
{mso-style-name:"text john-20-22";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textisa-32-18">We have spent the last four weeks looking for Christ. Our verse for the time has been: "Keep watch, for you do not know on what day your Lord will come." Matthew 24:42. During this particular Advent season, while feeling called to really look for Jesus, so much not-Jesus has been shoved in our faces. Tragedies of various kinds have affected our country and our congregation. Yet the word is still the same: Keep watch for Jesus. He could show up anywhere, at any time, whether for His second coming or for his visits into our daily lives. We look for Him to come. <br /><br />So today, we are going to spend some time looking for Jesus's peace to come. Following is a reading of the story of God bringing peace to earth that goes from the Old Testament, through the life of Jesus, and after Jesus left us with His spirit. Through all time, God has been bringing peace on earth.<br /> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="textisa-32-18">-----</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textisa-32-18">Isaiah 54:10<br />
</span><span class="textisa-54-10">Though the mountains
be shaken</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-54-10">and the hills be removed,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-54-10">yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-54-10">nor my covenant of <b>peace</b> be removed,”</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-54-10">says the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-54-10">,
who has compassion on you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Psalm 34:14<br />
Seek <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b>
and pursue it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isaiah 52:8,7<br />
<span class="textisa-32-15">Listen! Your watchmen
lift up their voices;<br />
together they shout for joy.<br />
When the Lord returns to Zion,<br />
they will see it with their own eyes.<br />
</span><span class="textisa-52-7">How
beautiful on the mountains</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-52-7">are the feet of those who bring good news,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-52-7">who proclaim <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b>,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luke 2:14<br />
“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b> to those on whom his favor
rests.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isaiah 9:6 <br />
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given…And
He will be called…Prince of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Peace.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj">John 16:33<br />
</span><span class="textisa-26-12">[Jesus said, “</span><span class="woj">…I]n me you may have <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b>. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have
overcome the world.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj">John 14:27<br />
<sup>“</sup><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Peace</b>
I leave with you; my <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b> I give
you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj">John 20:21-22<br />
</span><span class="textjohn-20-21">Again Jesus said,
</span><span class="woj">“<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Peace</b> be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”</span> <span class="textjohn-20-22"><sup>22 </sup>And with
that he breathed on them and said, </span><span class="woj">“Receive the Holy
Spirit.”</span><span class="textisa-26-12"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textisa-26-12">2 Thessalonians 3:16<br />
</span>Now may the Lord of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b> himself give you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b>
at all times and in every way. The Lord be with all of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 Corinthians 13:11<br />
Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for
full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b>. And the God of love and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">peace</b> will be with you.<span class="small-caps"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
-----</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To these, I would only add a couple of verses that have encouraged me this week as I have been thinking about Peace. <br />
<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.textisa-32-16
{mso-style-name:"text isa-32-16";}
span.small-caps
{mso-style-name:small-caps;}
span.indent-1-breaks
{mso-style-name:indent-1-breaks;}
span.textisa-32-17
{mso-style-name:"text isa-32-17";}
span.textphil-1-6
{mso-style-name:"text phil-1-6";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isaiah 32<br />
<span class="textisa-32-16"><sup>16 </sup>The </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-32-16">’s
justice will dwell in the desert,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-32-16">his righteousness live in the fertile field.</span><br />
<span class="textisa-32-17"><sup>17 </sup>The fruit of that righteousness
will be peace;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-32-17">its effect will be quietness and confidence forever.<br /><br />That phrase, "quietness and confidence forever," is what I want to lay hold of. The righteousness of God is what ushers it in. And I can be confident in Him. Who he is replaces the turmoil in our souls with quietness. I can be confident in his unfailing love and can be sure that nothing can take that away form me. <br /><br />Also over this time of Advent, I have seen those in our midst who have been affected by the darkness of this world letting Christ's light shine through them. I have seen a girl badly wronged turning to Christ for her way forward. I have seen those who mourn claiming Jesus as the center of their joy. These things are great sources of encouragement to me. They help light the way for us all. And so the next verse comes to mind. It brings me peace because I can see the truth of it coming to be right before my eyes as I look around at all us messed up people finding God right where we are. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textphil-1-6">Philippians 1:6<br />
[I am] confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on
to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textphil-1-6">And so we know that those of us He has begun forming into His children, He will keep forming until He is finished. That brings me quiet confidence today. <br /><br />Lastly, let's observe a time of quiet today. After a time of silence, we will have a prayer. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="textphil-1-6">-----</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Heavenly Father, <br />
The same God who created peace in the beginning and who has ever since promised
its return, <br />
The same God whose gift to a power-hungry, sin-occupied world was a baby<br />
who remained just as innocent as the day He was born,<br />
who promised to share with us His peace.<br />
You are the God we need. <br />
<br />
Prince of Peace,<br />
We have been looking for you for a long time. <br />
We love you because you have overcome the troubles in this world.<br />
Thank you for enduring violence to share with us your peace. <br />
We ask you to bring peace to our hearts<br />
and to our land. </div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Spirit of the Living
Christ,<br />
Helper, Comforter.<br />
Live in us. <br />
Help us to find your peace in our world.<br />
Let it grow in our lives.<br />
Give us the beautiful words that proclaim its coming<br />
to a world that needs to hear.<br />
<br />
We want to see you with our own eyes. <br />
We want to shout for joy. <br />
We want go running with the news.<br />
Make us beautiful as we shout it from the mountains.<br />
We want to live at peace with each other,<br />
to be fully restored.<br />
In you, we have peace. You yourself are our Peace.<br />
Be with us, Jesus, both now and forever. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Amen. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-55334225357968235782012-12-16T15:54:00.002-05:002012-12-16T17:12:03.127-05:00Advent 2012: Joy<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
a:link, span.MsoHyperlink
{color:blue;
text-decoration:underline;
text-underline:single;}
a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
color:purple;
text-decoration:underline;
text-underline:single;}
span.textisa-61-1
{mso-style-name:"text isa-61-1";}
span.small-caps
{mso-style-name:small-caps;}
span.indent-1-breaks
{mso-style-name:indent-1-breaks;}
span.textisa-61-2
{mso-style-name:"text isa-61-2";}
span.textisa-61-3
{mso-style-name:"text isa-61-3";}
span.woj
{mso-style-name:woj;}
span.hascaption
{mso-style-name:hascaption;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-30-4">Reading from Psalm 30</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-30-4"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">LEADER:</b><br />
Sing the praises of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-4">, you his faithful
people;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-4">praise his holy name.</span><br />
<span class="textps-30-5"><sup> </sup>For his anger lasts only a moment,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-5"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but his favor lasts a
lifetime;</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br />
</i><span class="textps-30-5">weeping may stay for the night,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-5"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but rejoicing comes in
the morning</i>.<br />
</span><span class="textps-30-8">To you, </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-8">, I
called;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-8">to the Lord I cried for mercy:<br />
</span><span class="textps-30-10">Hear, </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-10">,
and be merciful to me;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-10">, be my help.<br />
</span><span class="textps-30-5">Weeping may stay for the night,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-5"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but rejoicing comes in
the morning.</i><br />
<sup> </sup>For his anger lasts only a moment,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-5"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but his favor lasts a
lifetime;</i><br />
</span><span class="textps-30-4">Sing the praises of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-4">, you his faithful people;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-4"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">praise his holy name!</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-30-11"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">READERS 1&2:</b><br />
You turned my wailing into dancing;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-11">you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-30-11"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">READERS 3&4:</b><br />
You turned my wailing into dancing;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-11">you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-30-11"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">ALL:</b><br />
You turned my wailing into dancing;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-30-11">you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,<br />
</span><span class="textps-30-12">that my heart may sing your praises and not be
silent.</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-30-12"> my God, I will praise you forever.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am here to talk to you about joy. This week, we have
learned about senseless tragedies in our nation and perhaps in our own lives. I know many
of us are in the nighttime of sorrow. On this very week when we are to come
together to talk about the Joy that comes in the morning, talking about Joy may
feel like salt in the wound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps the timing for this Advent is off. Or perhaps this
is the best time. Because this is a time when we know we need Joy. We need to
know that this night won’t last forever. We come empty-handed and asking to be
given something we don’t have and can’t make for ourselves. We know the only
One around who can give it to us is Christ himself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Especially during Advent, we look forward to Jesus coming,
because we know He’s not the only one who has come into the world. We know we
have an enemy who has shown up as well. In John 10:10, Jesus tells us that our
enemy “comes to steal and kill and destroy.” We can see joy stolen. We feel
robbed. But John 10:10 doesn’t end with the news about our enemy. We don't have to hang on there long. Jesus
goes on to say, “<span class="woj">I have come that they may have life, and have
it to the full.” And THAT is the final word on the situation. Jesus came to give us just those things we cannot get or
maintain for ourselves: Hope, Love, Joy…Life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj">Last week, I spoke about how we oftentimes
find whatever it is we’re looking for. I don’t necessarily think we should look
for truth on social media, but sometimes it is found even there. A picture was
going around the internet yesterday that I had to share then and I think is
fitting to share now. It’s a quote from Fred Rogers – Mr. Rogers – who was a
pastor before he was a children’s television creator. He said: <br />
<br />
</span><span class="hascaption">"When I was a boy and I would see scary
things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will
always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of
'disaster,' I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing
that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this
world." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption"><span class="hascaption">I’m not trying to be
a humanist. </span>It’s not that I think there are more
good people in this world than bad. I just don’t know. But God has left us His spirit – in people – and so we can always
expect to find helpers. So this morning, we are looking for our Helper. Those
around us may be focused on the chaos and the horrible, but in the middle of it
all, we are as children in the middle of a disaster, looking only for our
Helper. We know for sure we will find Him here. He comes bearing the gift of
Joy to people overcome with sadness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /><br />These are the words Jesus used when He told us why He had come: </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textisa-61-1">Isaiah 61<br />
The Spirit of the Sovereign </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-61-1"> is
on me,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-1">because the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-61-1"> has
anointed me</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-1">to proclaim good news to the poor.</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-1">He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-1">to proclaim freedom for the captives</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-1">and release from darkness for the prisoners,</span><span class="textisa-61-1"></span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-2"><sup>2 </sup>to proclaim the year of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-61-2">’s favor</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-2">and the day of vengeance of our God,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-2">to comfort all who mourn,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-3"><sup>3 </sup></span><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">and provide for those who grieve in Zion—</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-3">to bestow on them a crown of beauty</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">instead of ashes,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-3">the oil of joy</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">instead of mourning,</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-3">and a garment of praise</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">instead of a spirit of despair.</span><br />
<span class="textisa-61-3">They will be called oaks of righteousness,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">a planting of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textisa-61-3">for the display of his splendor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption">If God has called us to be oaks of righteousness, there is nothing that can keep us from becoming who God will make us to be. No ugliness can keep us from displaying His splendor. Our Helper and is coming with
just the gift we need! We need joy. And we’re looking for Him. We’re focused on finding Him.
We can praise Him right now because He is here. He is the unshakable center of
our Joy and nothing and no one can ever take Him away from us. Even so, come,
Lord Jesus! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="hascaption"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /><br />Shameka encouraged us with a dance to this song by Richard Smallwood. (This page sites the wrong artist.) I wish I had thought to have someone film it, because she has a gift of encouraging others through her dance. But here is the song for those who would want to hear it. <br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPG-EBdVWpU">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPG-EBdVWpU</a></span></span></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-47638745552876330662012-12-11T09:30:00.001-05:002012-12-11T09:33:16.797-05:00Advent 2012: Love<br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.texteph-3-17
{mso-style-name:"text eph-3-17";}
span.texteph-3-18
{mso-style-name:"text eph-3-18";}
span.texteph-3-19
{mso-style-name:"text eph-3-19";}
span.textacts-17-27
{mso-style-name:"text acts-17-27";}
span.textacts-17-28
{mso-style-name:"text acts-17-28";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, we are looking at the traditional themes of Advent: Hope, Joy, Love, and Peace. However, to prove once again my imperfection, I accidentally switched the weeks of Joy and Love. Traditionally, Love is the third week of Advent instead of the second, but I'm a rebel like that, so we're going ahead with the second week of our Advent: Love. Our verse for this entire Advent season is: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come." from Matthew 24:42.<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our reading for this week is from Psalm 13: <br />
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.textps-13-1
{mso-style-name:"text ps-13-1";}
span.small-caps
{mso-style-name:small-caps;}
span.indent-1-breaks
{mso-style-name:indent-1-breaks;}
span.textps-13-2
{mso-style-name:"text ps-13-2";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style>
</div>
<br />
<span class="textps-13-1"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">“1 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">How long, </span></b></span><span class="small-caps"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; font-variant: small-caps; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Lord</span></b></span><span class="textps-13-1"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">? Will you forget me forever?</span></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-13-1">How long will you hide your face from me?</span><br />
<span class="textps-13-2"><sup>2 </sup>How long must I wrestle with my
thoughts</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-13-2">and day after day have sorrow in my heart?</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-13-2">How long will my enemy triumph over me?<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> _ _ _ _ _ _ _ <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></span></b>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.small-caps
{mso-style-name:small-caps;}
span.indent-1-breaks
{mso-style-name:indent-1-breaks;}
p.line, li.line, div.line
{mso-style-name:line;
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Times;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Times;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.textps-13-5
{mso-style-name:"text ps-13-5";}
span.textps-13-6
{mso-style-name:"text ps-13-6";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style> <br />
<div class="line" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<span class="textps-13-5"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">5 </span></sup></b></span><span class="textps-13-5"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">But I trust in your unfailing love;</span></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-13-5">my heart rejoices in your salvation.<br />
</span><br />
<span class="textps-13-6"><sup>6 </sup>I will sing the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textps-13-6">’s praise,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-13-6">for he has been good to me.”<br />
</span><br />
Because the Lord has been good to me, <br />
I will sing His praises. <br />
<br />
My heart rejoices in your salvation. <br />
I trust in your unfailing love. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love<br />
When I was in college, I went through a time of being really disillusioned and
disappointed and angry with God. I was out from under the shelter of my
parents’ faith and trying to figure out why it seemed the world was such an
ugly place to live. Did God really love everyone? It didn’t seem like it. Why
did so much evil happen in the world? Was God really going to hide His face
forever? The enemy of my soul had triumphed over me for so long that I was
trying to switch sides. I wasn’t asking God “How long?” anymore; that seemed
too childish. I had moved past that to anger that He hadn’t showed up yet, that
He didn’t love as well as I’d hoped, and that injustice seemed to rule the day.
I wasn’t looking for Him anymore. I was done with waiting. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So often in life, we find what we’re looking for. I was
looking for reasons to blame God for everything wrong. And I found them. I was
looking for hate in the world. And I found it. I was looking for hypocrisy in
the church. Yes. There it was. I found what I was looking for. I wasn’t really
looking for love in the world, but at the same time, I was angry that I wasn’t
finding it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, happily, Someone Else was doing some looking, too. That
Person was named Love. He had always been there, even though I wasn’t really
trying and couldn’t see Him. He had been a good listener to all of my angry
outbursts during my times alone with Him, and just so I could see it, he put on
the flesh of friends in my life to show me His heart towards me. One night,
after hours of listening to me accuse God of being unloving, one of them said,
“Lezlie, if love doesn’t exist, then what are we doing here?” And so Love had
found me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We can trust in God’s unfailing love. We rely on it. Even
when we are fumbling around in the darkness, we can trust that God will find
us. This time of year especially, we remember how he put on the flesh of a
Friend so we could all see just how far Love will go to pursue us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve asked the little children of our church to share with
us, because the truth of this morning is simple and we should
never try to outgrow it: God is Love. We look for Jesus as little children –
trusting He is there – or we don’t find Him at all. In this season of Advent,
let us set aside the troubles we’ve encountered as we’ve grown older. Not that
those troubles aren’t real; they just aren’t as eternal as God’s Love. Let us
focus instead on the Light of the World making his Love known to us. “Keep
watch, therefore, because you do not know when the Lord will come.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, we can praise God even now because of his Love
that never fails. We may fail, but God’s love is perfect. Praise Him, because
He is love, though others are not. Praise Him, because He is love no matter
whatever else may happen. <br />
<br />
The Bible says, “Seek and you will find.” Look around you, because God is
everywhere. Look around you, because even though we may live in dark times,<span class="textacts-17-27"> God has us living where we do “so that [we] would seek
him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any
one of us.</span><span class="textacts-17-28"><sup> </sup>‘For in him we
live and move and have our being.’</span>” We are swimming in Love. Look around
you and take hope, because God is Love! His love will not fail. <br />
<br />
Look around you, because God’s love is still in the business of taking on
flesh. If you can’t see Love around you, pray that you will have Him in you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those who look – and even, perhaps, for some of us who
don’t – we will see Him coming! He is coming for us! Through faith, we can even
see it now. See Him coming! There He is – and there – and here. We can all look
back or around or ahead and see Love’s presence showing up in our lives. He has
not left us. He is here with us now. He will come and rescue us. See Him
coming! God is Love!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyiF0v3T7NZ0712bRIyVJxS2ielu07r6JIjrmP_pKQoneDIn7RNxwpfaS47NYsAsfpFnFWDscQ8AKQpPR5EQA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="texteph-3-17">"And I pray that you, being rooted
and established in love,</span><span class="texteph-3-18"><sup> </sup>may
have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and
long and high and deep is the love of Christ,</span> <span class="texteph-3-19">and
to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the
measure of all the fullness of God."<br />Ephesians 3:17-19</span></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-12452176738507899882012-12-06T22:37:00.001-05:002012-12-08T16:48:08.423-05:00Advent 2012: Hope<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.woj
{mso-style-name:woj;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cherish Advent. I get to share this love of the season at my church each week as we observe the season together. Since I have a blog, I thought I'd also share it with you. I am late posting the first week's observance, but it's always better late than never, right? Besides, keeping you waiting was perhaps only a means of reinforcing one of the main ideas of the season. :) Enjoy this time of reflection and meditation. <br />
<br />
- Advent means coming. <br />
- We set our minds on Jesus, the light of the world who came into the world to
change the world forever. <br />
- We let that change begin with us. <br />
- During Advent, we set aside time to think about what Jesus’s coming means. We
think about what it must have been like to wait for the first Advent, when
Jesus came as a humble baby. We feel the anticipation ourselves as we look
forward to the second advent of Christ. We think about how much our world – and
we ourselves -- need Jesus to come right here, right now. <br />
- There are many ways and traditions within the church to observe Advent. This
year, we are observing the traditional themes of advent: the light of hope, of
love, of joy, and of peace. Each candle around the outside of the Advent wreath represents one of these lights. The reason we are able to have any of these, of
course, is Jesus, represented by the Christ candle in the center. <br />
- Our theme verse this year comes from Mt. 24:42: “…<span class="woj">Keep watch,
because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.” Our Lord is coming;
we believe and are looking for Him. </span><br />
- Let’s start by letting the word wash over us as we begin celebrating the
first week of Advent: HOPE.<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>In service, several people quoted these verses. Read them over several times so their words wash over you. </i>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
</style>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my
Savior; my God will hear me.<br /> - </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Micah 7:7 </span><br />But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you. - </span></span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Psalm 39: 7</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span>
<br />
Hope
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Often in the Psalms and in the
prophets, we read the words of people who see all kinds of darkness i<span style="font-family: inherit;">n the world
around them. They record injustices, troubles of all kinds, their own struggles
with sin, the evils of their leaders, the sicknesses of the chosen people of
God themselves. I have times like that. Sometimes, I feel like all I see around
me is dark. Sometimes, I feel like all I </span>see in ME is dark. I think there’s a
lot of truth there – hearts are full of darkness and the world is fallen and
broken. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But I love how the writings of the
prophets and the psalmists never end there. Because we are not left without
hope. Both talk about how the Savior of the world is coming. Writing from a
dark place, they talk about the Light that is coming. We can read passages that
promise every tear will be wiped away, that the Lord himself will teach us the
way of Life, that wars will end, that every sickness will be healed, that
justice will be done, that mercy will win, and that all will be made new. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
When Jesus told His disciples about his second
Advent, he told them it would be like the coming of a wedding party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
(From Matthew 25)<br />
<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten
virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. <sup>2 </sup>Five
of them were foolish and five were wise. <sup>3 </sup>The foolish ones
took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. <sup>4 </sup>The wise
ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. <sup>5 </sup>The
bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell
asleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">6 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“At
midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">7 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Then
all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. <sup>8 </sup>The foolish
ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">9 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“‘No,’
they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to
those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">10 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But
while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The
virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door
was shut.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">11 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Later
the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">12 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But
he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; mso-para-margin-bottom: .01gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .01gd;">
<sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">13 </span></sup><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Therefore
keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
This image of being ready to wait
for the One who is coming stuck with me this year. I want to be one who is
ready to wait, however long it takes, to see my Savior’s face when he comes.
Watching for the coming of the Bridegroom means we, just like the prophets and
the psalmists, have to hold out the light of hope. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <br /> </span>Andrew, our pastor, often
talks about how we’re not here to run a sprint; we’re running a marathon, here.
If I’m going to make it, I need to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I
need to see people carrying the light around me, encouraging me on. We have
these things. We even have Jesus’s own Spirit burning inside us. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even as we are in the middle of whatever dark circumstances are around
us, we know He’s coming. Therefore, since we have hope, we don’t sit around
asking, “Are you coming?” If we have hope burning within us, we ask, “How long,
O Lord, until you come?” We aren’t looking for anyone else to cure the sin of
the world. “How long, O Lord, until YOU come?” Our world has only one Hope. So
we wait, looking everywhere to find Him. We do not know exactly when to expect
Him, so we look for Him everywhere. We know He is coming; we just don’t know how
long He will take. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>You can follow this link if you'd like to listen to the song we covered as a backdrop to a time of meditation. </i><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvO1d3RBSiY&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvO1d3RBSiY&feature=related</a></div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-58440010245929315152012-10-25T21:51:00.000-04:002012-11-01T15:45:29.875-04:00celebration of linesPat and I recently celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary. We have a
tradition most years of spending the weekend in Red River Gorge in
Kentucky. We love it there. I am a huge fan of tradition, so going to
the same place to do the same thing each year is pretty meaningful to
me. Seeing the same incredible rock formations, walking the same paths.
(Okay. We tried a new one this year, but we're going to go back to the
old rough trail again next time.) This year, I noticed that the enormous
fallen tree that had been uprooted my first time there now looks fairly
unimpressive. Some things change, I guess. <br />
<br />
At
one point, I turned the camera around and snapped a picture of myself.
Glancing at the picture, I realized my face is to be counted among the
"things that change." I hadn't really noticed it. Some of you will say
you still don't, but it's happening. I have some places eager to wrinkle
here. A couple places have made a habit of it. Part of me wants to
panic; part of me wants to just say that the corners of my eyes and my
forehead are just settling into the shape that suits them. It's just
that I looked pretty much exactly the same for ten years and, well, now I
don't. <br />
<br />
You may have seen a video circulating that compares the
marks children leave on women's bodies to various beautiful marks in
nature. Maybe it's because I had seen the video. Maybe it's because I've
always enjoyed noticing the lines growing and eroding in the Gorge.
Maybe it's because I like taking too many pictures. But I spent a bit
noticing the lines of time and change around me that weekend while
realizing in a new way how time, growth, impact, friction, and movement
leave their marks. Rising up and eroding away, growing and decaying, stretching and shrinking back can have a way of beautifully occupying the same space. Too bad it's a struggle to appreciate the beauty of time on a face (especially our own) in the same way we appreciate the way these forces impact the rest of the natural world. Of course we grow in wisdom and beauty on the <i>inside</i>, but I'm going to choose to believe what happens concurrently on the outside serves only to emphasize the goodness of that inward progression. <br />
<br />
Here are my observations on lines of growth and change in Red River Gorge. Lines marking growth, lines of imperfection and idiosyncrasy, lines from holding on, lines from letting go, lines of protection, lines of newness, lines from fading away, lines that help you see, lines marking great feats, outlines of tear-drops, lines of companionship, lines of separation, lines from miles traveled, lines going deep. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7buVlu4Xykr2EFujJwxdtqmq5LBZWTWftmDlW9HdfGkMVBHoJ7L02BUDhte2TRV-MVaO6NP084GvPrWNvJ2MK2nxkEFeC59whhghwn9Agyd-ILmPxtZcOdl_8nXtJXMxAgfYc9x-TWc/s1600/DSC_0306.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7buVlu4Xykr2EFujJwxdtqmq5LBZWTWftmDlW9HdfGkMVBHoJ7L02BUDhte2TRV-MVaO6NP084GvPrWNvJ2MK2nxkEFeC59whhghwn9Agyd-ILmPxtZcOdl_8nXtJXMxAgfYc9x-TWc/s320/DSC_0306.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFS6dhj9WukNiKlVCd6k3IlXEzK_NGRQm_H_FN29e_eV76rN972363plwpaLluBEEX8e-oAuqX0Xrk_iC-su1QeWyD1Y9EHSktlWo7xhDlBZ_kjDckdzrz3jz0JoVMB3oqqR0uRnrvsg/s1600/DSC_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFS6dhj9WukNiKlVCd6k3IlXEzK_NGRQm_H_FN29e_eV76rN972363plwpaLluBEEX8e-oAuqX0Xrk_iC-su1QeWyD1Y9EHSktlWo7xhDlBZ_kjDckdzrz3jz0JoVMB3oqqR0uRnrvsg/s320/DSC_0307.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvntOl6zSL-omfq2-_SEMCgBzVjhMsUKPAAnZKwNceF9vPrhtV7Cb6u5QplR1a65DzDtlDk-NOKrOsAJ4Rm3i3D9C-IHM4BP2xq3tNHc04_P-S3Vl5Pz7WtuHqh-09OUy24g20pva6eY/s1600/DSC_0312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvntOl6zSL-omfq2-_SEMCgBzVjhMsUKPAAnZKwNceF9vPrhtV7Cb6u5QplR1a65DzDtlDk-NOKrOsAJ4Rm3i3D9C-IHM4BP2xq3tNHc04_P-S3Vl5Pz7WtuHqh-09OUy24g20pva6eY/s320/DSC_0312.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Q0tNL8VMCAP8GqDQq7lfT5qeGvjcZdeWA9KPmRAuxyC4hAHk6BNo5USkbt0A6PoDuGiqAIVwQwzV1iW40nkCHyFzHHiyE1fVxEYnNOhvkx2GI1cWqHcioZV8EdhhFIrrTGR5N6NJzqw/s1600/DSC_0313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Q0tNL8VMCAP8GqDQq7lfT5qeGvjcZdeWA9KPmRAuxyC4hAHk6BNo5USkbt0A6PoDuGiqAIVwQwzV1iW40nkCHyFzHHiyE1fVxEYnNOhvkx2GI1cWqHcioZV8EdhhFIrrTGR5N6NJzqw/s320/DSC_0313.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r8OR-K7cvpZDuMl8fopgw_xmGEchYcHv0GCluNjPBiX41rSKIU0lRNP64fVHe97G9FQzgR8jc4HHOaHj4toPffxdLkItF1Bs7dmCu37s1sBJyckFWD0Agje1hMQuGWCAfpOQQ1DBBkc/s1600/DSC_0314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r8OR-K7cvpZDuMl8fopgw_xmGEchYcHv0GCluNjPBiX41rSKIU0lRNP64fVHe97G9FQzgR8jc4HHOaHj4toPffxdLkItF1Bs7dmCu37s1sBJyckFWD0Agje1hMQuGWCAfpOQQ1DBBkc/s320/DSC_0314.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_X8yq6kioHOlcnGvHG5TUO_XDeuVaK5khA0iq3sJmDYfCKNo8d2g21A4OxC9yG-dkX0tofqorWRV9dcRGiUl2_GrsCipD7TgfdrogQzWA2VjPQ9q07DhFBFD5JapC0PRM3YSfbbLK8mA/s1600/DSC_0315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_X8yq6kioHOlcnGvHG5TUO_XDeuVaK5khA0iq3sJmDYfCKNo8d2g21A4OxC9yG-dkX0tofqorWRV9dcRGiUl2_GrsCipD7TgfdrogQzWA2VjPQ9q07DhFBFD5JapC0PRM3YSfbbLK8mA/s320/DSC_0315.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvd89VtWX-JoTT20BFPj0sL9YhanfDJs8lsBfcpkI2PaWqvdG70K3tFF6ESF9kOg6OfvRI5zZokuMzZMcutpSv8v9AQRRH-DTKfS-U-4hgVyFqkIOlbhp7ljr-S9UelSXFoCIoD-H4ePU/s1600/DSC_0320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvd89VtWX-JoTT20BFPj0sL9YhanfDJs8lsBfcpkI2PaWqvdG70K3tFF6ESF9kOg6OfvRI5zZokuMzZMcutpSv8v9AQRRH-DTKfS-U-4hgVyFqkIOlbhp7ljr-S9UelSXFoCIoD-H4ePU/s320/DSC_0320.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDstEjwP84v3Ncnme_KBgkRCCnIYFFlkNkmQOHIEJ_z0qTIQplOaA9kP-nKWOIUNdzHfJB0t2koGhye4GE4hn8eLD3CREX4LFPvfcnkFwo9UgWhjquKOsESqCj7OuphRQjyr2bm7qxphM/s1600/DSC_0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDstEjwP84v3Ncnme_KBgkRCCnIYFFlkNkmQOHIEJ_z0qTIQplOaA9kP-nKWOIUNdzHfJB0t2koGhye4GE4hn8eLD3CREX4LFPvfcnkFwo9UgWhjquKOsESqCj7OuphRQjyr2bm7qxphM/s320/DSC_0323.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPccEoZ9yoNT5Cyap3D8eX3nb8LT1rGMplh10HqiH49bxFI6PCn6ixkxyY3CWqlAhW6rLIf-d9Iop9JhcoraeePmkSEBtTy1lseeAZL2HmrvlDcL9IrF_vndSwKRH5fWjkbSJ4swVQ1_g/s1600/DSC_0326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPccEoZ9yoNT5Cyap3D8eX3nb8LT1rGMplh10HqiH49bxFI6PCn6ixkxyY3CWqlAhW6rLIf-d9Iop9JhcoraeePmkSEBtTy1lseeAZL2HmrvlDcL9IrF_vndSwKRH5fWjkbSJ4swVQ1_g/s320/DSC_0326.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgax85y1MEt9-qhOs_IHP4y3vWh2Ke7Wx81gjErtL2z9iOfRaP_c7jzha-W9Mqwf0fU_lksQd6h9WF2ZgYWfeiwaq0-nAXFFQTFIuniOf_xpqG65N0XB8kRmvuLed-MnyOJ5xnM-MYFNGc/s1600/DSC_0328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgax85y1MEt9-qhOs_IHP4y3vWh2Ke7Wx81gjErtL2z9iOfRaP_c7jzha-W9Mqwf0fU_lksQd6h9WF2ZgYWfeiwaq0-nAXFFQTFIuniOf_xpqG65N0XB8kRmvuLed-MnyOJ5xnM-MYFNGc/s320/DSC_0328.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwGlvGVZ8AsqW7KkUfOVO6Xzy7tqKKLbpiSSZI0iOJtJw3mTFRmgk_TDwBlKQpDRX-qctyqmTDw2ccejIfK4xTh3LNzkqKue3k3cy7Wae1wvsOM7ktMBvbBkuize1Eir831TDA-YxTYY/s1600/DSC_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwGlvGVZ8AsqW7KkUfOVO6Xzy7tqKKLbpiSSZI0iOJtJw3mTFRmgk_TDwBlKQpDRX-qctyqmTDw2ccejIfK4xTh3LNzkqKue3k3cy7Wae1wvsOM7ktMBvbBkuize1Eir831TDA-YxTYY/s320/DSC_0329.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFC5vBZAeGVIwrcZ5fYSrhV3W-jtfBKWO94LRCC7Ua1Ih3hfS7sHf3cTEqfyw8hrYvukpKt294G2-LuylV14b8BFv1afMNhuvMxlXYjuqbuOS9D9y00ZlSmWxUf5kR-xQfyPwDzy_Mhs/s1600/DSC_0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFC5vBZAeGVIwrcZ5fYSrhV3W-jtfBKWO94LRCC7Ua1Ih3hfS7sHf3cTEqfyw8hrYvukpKt294G2-LuylV14b8BFv1afMNhuvMxlXYjuqbuOS9D9y00ZlSmWxUf5kR-xQfyPwDzy_Mhs/s320/DSC_0332.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY3KxH_3Ehc9xrJyCxeVqOdwdGNG-trSuemX7ZoMfqBY-HJFmqpSEhbW6xNvnYn_H86yxk72qD04kPUQC-Nnwoz7cHwqW98kbAzTkJQkagTznPsNPDrXcmb9fGaTJRm83A0qrsCNGaXc/s1600/DSC_0334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY3KxH_3Ehc9xrJyCxeVqOdwdGNG-trSuemX7ZoMfqBY-HJFmqpSEhbW6xNvnYn_H86yxk72qD04kPUQC-Nnwoz7cHwqW98kbAzTkJQkagTznPsNPDrXcmb9fGaTJRm83A0qrsCNGaXc/s320/DSC_0334.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8OtwFKafqVbRM3Kw4hXqiqB2nb6r6N8mMmJfx9hNCJDOREdRvjNuZ13qeAe0mAto3_Y0gYekBC8FlSa1XkFfokYoPZ7qDYW7NKjw2N8g0Z6dXsURSCcdAXgje4gk1w5ffwLMnVqg-cc/s1600/DSC_0335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8OtwFKafqVbRM3Kw4hXqiqB2nb6r6N8mMmJfx9hNCJDOREdRvjNuZ13qeAe0mAto3_Y0gYekBC8FlSa1XkFfokYoPZ7qDYW7NKjw2N8g0Z6dXsURSCcdAXgje4gk1w5ffwLMnVqg-cc/s320/DSC_0335.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXBLAy31Zl2lHwIxWYHB-l8lhOgnVeZf4qCTlvkNwj22KqbeRU71B2X7_up7lbIWVQ7Pg0YGvm8f3jFIsmZuwCnYRfvgGjMG5lEqEUCmR5RxaWA12eWwi8T1bUtpFMZL3B1z3njalDV4/s1600/DSC_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXBLAy31Zl2lHwIxWYHB-l8lhOgnVeZf4qCTlvkNwj22KqbeRU71B2X7_up7lbIWVQ7Pg0YGvm8f3jFIsmZuwCnYRfvgGjMG5lEqEUCmR5RxaWA12eWwi8T1bUtpFMZL3B1z3njalDV4/s320/DSC_0338.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HFD_ztCrQMufgtq7FOZJVnjh0O3zVklPKPTTYQNbv-R2RzDIaQOVdeiNeNM58z1hRpHtiQRvbjtOkWsB2mqpEghDpTXBfrzoM970NWjVmkPyueaU8WJESgXW0NuR_W7i6prbI5Q04HE/s1600/DSC_0345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HFD_ztCrQMufgtq7FOZJVnjh0O3zVklPKPTTYQNbv-R2RzDIaQOVdeiNeNM58z1hRpHtiQRvbjtOkWsB2mqpEghDpTXBfrzoM970NWjVmkPyueaU8WJESgXW0NuR_W7i6prbI5Q04HE/s320/DSC_0345.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4BvAqAM52RGv1lNuOeJ1DPqMPQGfaXU7AzTJTEkAV9IhKO848gu7nl9FYM-0l4djU5T9g-2LIM18u-HWi4rCiHR1ly_9_VhAria0qCrIDcqBITjAWMBY7cJnVXdXvdpfi2yvGRdGWQQ/s1600/DSC_0366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4BvAqAM52RGv1lNuOeJ1DPqMPQGfaXU7AzTJTEkAV9IhKO848gu7nl9FYM-0l4djU5T9g-2LIM18u-HWi4rCiHR1ly_9_VhAria0qCrIDcqBITjAWMBY7cJnVXdXvdpfi2yvGRdGWQQ/s320/DSC_0366.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMJ1hXgRlCriu3iKaf6J39FRz-83vUTdTkH1dggIk-2Z6DPcHCfEZ-ovLc0veeUr46numQSbu8r5mUQLLYGgkpOZgpb_0hIXUp45CqgVGCD_kq3LuYb_eD0Vh3CtKH_N-N-FJZny04bs/s1600/DSC_0401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMJ1hXgRlCriu3iKaf6J39FRz-83vUTdTkH1dggIk-2Z6DPcHCfEZ-ovLc0veeUr46numQSbu8r5mUQLLYGgkpOZgpb_0hIXUp45CqgVGCD_kq3LuYb_eD0Vh3CtKH_N-N-FJZny04bs/s320/DSC_0401.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDns9Ywb9g5F471rFxcOXYzV3cpL4eykqjPwwaqubOrjz-Ztq9nkQU3GmgXI1MT0jFpYgRx69oqE7mVmQy7Qghl1bn53V5h9XbHnFrKdzDb4t9SgHJZsJkXkisvEpbxj_KwkKumSW8aU/s1600/DSC_0403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDns9Ywb9g5F471rFxcOXYzV3cpL4eykqjPwwaqubOrjz-Ztq9nkQU3GmgXI1MT0jFpYgRx69oqE7mVmQy7Qghl1bn53V5h9XbHnFrKdzDb4t9SgHJZsJkXkisvEpbxj_KwkKumSW8aU/s320/DSC_0403.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCc1OdLm69OG1YPXlsfYkhnOp0TfUX9xByvYHnrJrRcsaZguPZX9pLZOvXjCsoG74IILfCYIcmWk0-XrNAj_sivA3Dv3LcH-4PycqBkc7r18xNeym842n773jXVTbN726Q1qUjX0eRZd4/s1600/DSC_0404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCc1OdLm69OG1YPXlsfYkhnOp0TfUX9xByvYHnrJrRcsaZguPZX9pLZOvXjCsoG74IILfCYIcmWk0-XrNAj_sivA3Dv3LcH-4PycqBkc7r18xNeym842n773jXVTbN726Q1qUjX0eRZd4/s320/DSC_0404.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2je0s3iLtu-C1xl3r-GD8D0t-a0VPHD4_n8t_rFkGy5Oc8OWr7LJ9BJ0h9xSmsn_ZFXAWq4Q4blY-PEON1F6vli6j44lV2Ku1y5XsaCB9A0UVIbp6B82giP6sevvYVRF0arjKjNGgpmM/s1600/DSC_0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2je0s3iLtu-C1xl3r-GD8D0t-a0VPHD4_n8t_rFkGy5Oc8OWr7LJ9BJ0h9xSmsn_ZFXAWq4Q4blY-PEON1F6vli6j44lV2Ku1y5XsaCB9A0UVIbp6B82giP6sevvYVRF0arjKjNGgpmM/s320/DSC_0406.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXiZywGiytw-8gFV7cBGK1tOXj461zMApr-6VnGapvLgZ_H7FVfXCtTx87wrYzVtCU1Cke4NcTHbPPIWSnp2iJyG9ThmOdgg1h5MebY1qFPcLecKtZB7N3cux6Ba-EieghQDin1Ectruk/s1600/DSC_0420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXiZywGiytw-8gFV7cBGK1tOXj461zMApr-6VnGapvLgZ_H7FVfXCtTx87wrYzVtCU1Cke4NcTHbPPIWSnp2iJyG9ThmOdgg1h5MebY1qFPcLecKtZB7N3cux6Ba-EieghQDin1Ectruk/s320/DSC_0420.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh940OlqjOIaYtl14Xm8SiFupJUXq9ZfDmX7rph6g42Ehb9zpOhIxRjZvO57EiNhUq3uprAYKBJ8zZETrwFbahJ5NQrlSNA5uvs4GwYtHyV9pOVaz1kV-Gpf8e3UbytrX3kyTKSGUEd-3c/s1600/DSC_0462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh940OlqjOIaYtl14Xm8SiFupJUXq9ZfDmX7rph6g42Ehb9zpOhIxRjZvO57EiNhUq3uprAYKBJ8zZETrwFbahJ5NQrlSNA5uvs4GwYtHyV9pOVaz1kV-Gpf8e3UbytrX3kyTKSGUEd-3c/s320/DSC_0462.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzlDTpg318Ma8m6-ywyvpZuzH3YyqWwm7_0HSIilp1pDH4BR_NR597Ae7JfhxoINqZjpihzsSB89e56Gxo19WBSpsNn_ZIgxIZNuC7P5xhFN2PUKws8tpl74nY2nARFuRgAe7VfLRqAk/s1600/DSC_0475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzlDTpg318Ma8m6-ywyvpZuzH3YyqWwm7_0HSIilp1pDH4BR_NR597Ae7JfhxoINqZjpihzsSB89e56Gxo19WBSpsNn_ZIgxIZNuC7P5xhFN2PUKws8tpl74nY2nARFuRgAe7VfLRqAk/s320/DSC_0475.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
------<br />
<i>P.S. For another of my gleanings from this time in nature, head over to my other blog: <a href="http://www.godsmountainpeople.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">godsmountainpeople</a></i>keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-52830047282578988022012-10-09T23:44:00.000-04:002012-10-11T12:00:12.973-04:00link likingThis isn't any great writing post (if any of them ever are...). I'm just coming to update a bit about Lia. She is still doing well. She is still eating. (If you somehow missed my post about that initial news, scroll down.) I realize I have picked up a number of readers because I provide exclusive access to Lia online. It's not quite as much like being one of those access shows on TV as you may think, though, so I thought I would give up the title. :) <br />
<br />
Actually, there are a lot of people in this battle with us. A whole team of friends (some I'm just meeting, virtually,) is working together to help Lia's family. As I said, some of us are giving our time, some of us are giving our money. I like writing, so I write. But, as it turns out, I'm not the only friend who is offering up some reading material. So I want to quickly connect you to a couple other places online where you can hear from other friends of the family and not just have to take my word for it. (But you know you can take my word on it if you want.) <br />
<br />
This first one is from another of my friends from my college days who had very much the same feeling about Rhys as I did upon first meeting her. I enjoyed reading about/reliving momentarily our common experiences here. <br />
<a href="http://jennainrio.blogspot.com.br/2012/10/the-twitch-in-your-heart.html">http://jennainrio.blogspot.com.br/2012/10/the-twitch-in-your-heart.html</a><br />
<br />
The second is from someone whose name I know of, but who I actually don't know. But I really loved reading his writing. I think you will, too. This one is longer, but worth it. <br />
<a href="http://tyounglightsys.dyndns.org/wordpress/?p=182">http://tyounglightsys.dyndns.org/wordpress/?p=182</a><br />
<br />
The other place I want to send you is to <a href="https://www.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_flow&SESSION=f6Oim0g4jezwoTiqC1VOT1ZZ78pxiGg7FCYmd08OOgJsGLIuhMjFDxgj9I8&dispatch=5885d80a13c0db1f8e263663d3faee8db02a037e263542f58098410815cf7df7" target="_blank">the donation site</a>. This whole thing is ridiculously expensive. And, though Rhys has found some employment during this ordeal, they lost Dave's job and the place they had been living at the same time they lost each other. It's like someone (we'll call her "This life") said, "You're going to lose the ability to live as a family. If you want it back, you're going to have to fork over a lot of money to fight for it. But I'm going to take your source of income and you can't live at home anymore, either. Best of luck to ya!" Unfair. But you've already heard my thoughts on this, so I won't ramble on about them here.<br />
<br />
Suffice it to say that, between these updates, expenses for this battle keep mounting. More people are being brought in -- specialists and such -- and it costs money to be able to use their time, too, in addition to money already owed the lawyers. It's expensive...and necessary. So please, if you have the means or know someone with the means to help financially, be encouraged. Of course, if you are a person who prays, be encouraged as well. I don't think you can ever say you have "enough" people praying, though lots of us are. But we know we don't have "enough" money yet. So if you feel at all inclined, even just a little, we'd be grateful if you'd <a href="https://www.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_flow&SESSION=f6Oim0g4jezwoTiqC1VOT1ZZ78pxiGg7FCYmd08OOgJsGLIuhMjFDxgj9I8&dispatch=5885d80a13c0db1f8e263663d3faee8db02a037e263542f58098410815cf7df7" target="_blank">help a friend of a friend</a>. Thanks! <br /><br /><i>Oct. 11 update:</i><br />
<i>Today...TODAY is a mediation hearing, where a third party works with both parties to see if an agreement can be reached before a formal hearing ensues. Pursuant to requests for as much information as possible, I am also including, with their permission, a facebook note by Mimi Barker, who is a missionary and friend of this family. The date of this letter was Sept. 23. I think I have covered the details this contains, but perhaps this puts them in an easier-to-understand-at-once format. Hope this helps! <br /> </i><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">In December 2008, D and R were awaiting the arrival of their second
child. The baby came early and Lia was born fighting for her life. She
was in the emergency room within hours of her birth and then weeks in
NICU. When she was still too fragile to tolerate touch or noise, she was
already showing enough spunk to kick blankets away from her feet. She
made huge progress but was still the sickest little baby in the NICU for
a long time. Her mom, R, got to hold her again for the first time on
Christmas Day. Her family finally got to take her home after two months
and find out what it was like to be a family of four who didn't live in a
hospital.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now Lia is 3 ½ and a delightful child with a sparkling personality
and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Earlier this year, a new
treatment was started in the ongoing quest to treat the unnamed disease
that she continues to battle. The new treatment began to do its work and
Lia gradually began to improve. Now she is walking and eating and
getting into mischief. Is Lia cured? No. She is stronger and healthier
than she has been in a long time, and the gradual success of this
treatment gives hope that someday her disease will be named and
eventually vanquished. But Lia will still fight it for some time to
come. She will probably have more visits to the hospital. She will
continue to puzzle and charm more doctors who have dubbed her “our very
medically complex child.” There may be times when she loses ground, or
more panicked runs to the ER when something fails that should work. But
now there is hope that she will grow up to keep on fighting. Hope that
someday she will see the ocean where her beloved whales and dolphins
live. There is hope, but that doesn't make it easier to explain to a 3
year old why she can't be with her mama.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">You see, in the midst of all this hope, there is despair, and fear
that the family might lose Lia after all. A new nightmare has started
just when R and D can finally begin thinking of Lia as a forever child,
and start dreaming of a future with her in it. Lia was home again,
beginning to respond to the new medicines when a piece of the equipment
she had to help her body function slipped out of place. She wasn't
desperately ill, just needed to have something put back in place. The
local hospital knows Lia well, and decided it would be best to send her
across the state to another hospital with specialists who had also
treated Lia before. While there, some called into question the source of
Lia's recent progress, which led to R and D being caught up in a major
custody battle for their daughter. They have engaged two terrific
attorneys, and are preparing to fight with all they have for their
family.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Big brother Z, at seven, is struggling with the situation as well. He
adores his sister and wants nothing more than for all of the family to
be home together. He recently saw the movie “The Avengers”, his first
big kid movie. He loved it but after it was over, he asked about the guy
who died. About how he gave everything. His mom ended up explaining
that when you believe to your very heart that something is just, true,
right, you fight with all you have.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He said, “We need super heroes.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">His mom said, “Daddy and I are fighting like the Avengers for our
family. and the super heroes are coming.” Pray for these two little ones
in the midst of this storm.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">While they wait for the super heroes to arrive, the parents are
continuing to fight the battle that has landed in their laps. There have
been a couple of preliminary custody hearings already. The first one
resulted in R's parental rights being restricted to limited supervised
visits with Lia. Fortunately, D's parental rights were protected, and he
has full custody of Lia. The next significant date on the calendar was
September 11, when a mediation session was scheduled. That has been
postponed. <i>[As it has turned out, that hearing is TODAY. PLEASE PRAY!] </i>It is possible that an agreement could be reached then which
would allow D and R to return to Idaho with both their kids, and the
nightmare would be over. However, based on their experience with the
system so far, this does not look likely.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">What is more likely is that the other side will continue to fight the
family for custody of Lia, and the situation will move toward a trial,
months down the road from now. Please be praying for the parents and
their lawyers. No one has been charged or accused of
anything. There are broad and nebulous allegations, but they have not
been formalized, and have not been backed up with any evidence. R has
not had an opportunity yet to defend herself. Note the legal distinction
between an unfounded allegation and an accusation. Sadly, even an
unfounded allegation is enough in today's world for the officials to
intervene and try to remove a child from the custody of a parent. Once
this switch gets flipped, there is no other way out except to follow the
established procedures in the legal system. This takes months and is
very expensive regardless of guilt or innocence. Many friends have a lot
of questions and concerns, but some information must stay confidential
due to the legal proceedings. Please understand that not getting an
answer to your question is NOT an indication of lack of trust in you
personally. The family has been advised to be very careful in sharing
any details during this time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The situation has created a huge financial need. The bill for legal
expenses is $17,000 already and climbs at about $2000 -2500 per week.
Over $16,000 has been raised toward that amount, most of which has
already been paid to the attorneys. If the case moves towards a trial,
an additional sum of $25,000 will be needed to prepare a defense. This
could mount to $75,000 before this is all over. The family are grateful
for their competent lawyers, but have already exhausted their own
financial resources.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A new fundraising goal has been set: to raise $20,000 in the next two
weeks, that is by October 8, 2012. The team supporting the family is
now looking at getting some experts on board to be prepared to testify
on the medical facts behind Lia's condition. The best experts cost
money. Lia is worth it! This additional $20,000 will cover the cost of
their retainers, and allow the lawyers to start working with them
directly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A lot of volunteer hours have been given in addition to the billable
hours, so the bill is lower than it might otherwise be. There is a fund
set up to help with the legal expense. All of the funds raised so far
are going to the lawyers and nothing else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here is the link to that fund. This is a donation page run by Lia's Nana. <a href="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=XKDXE488PNJB6" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=XKDXE488PNJB6</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The legal bill is the biggest financial hurdle, but the family is
stuck in Seattle until this is resolved. D is not working because he had
to leave his job in Idaho to go to Seattle, and he is now Lia's full
time primary care giver. There is no question of looking for other
employment until this is over. R has found work she can do online, but
she also needs to invest her time and energy into fighting for custody
of Lia.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are other needs, and opportunities to bless this family, and more will arise, but these are the immediate and urgent ones.</span><br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-62794132866366171982012-10-02T19:36:00.000-04:002012-10-02T22:46:23.339-04:00miracle monarchOne day, about three weeks ago, I was pulling all the tangled vines out from among the flowers I'm trying to grow in my yard. In one fist-full of vine, I found a little black and yellow caterpillar. I found a second one just a few feet away. Since I had destroyed their home, I brought the caterpillars with some of the leaves they were on to look at them and see if I could figure out how to raise them. When Pat saw them, he said, "Monarch caterpillars!" That was the first thing to know. But since then, I have learned a great deal about these tiny creations that astounds me. I'm sharing with you my list of... <br />
<br />
AMAZING THINGS ABOUT MONARCHS<br />
1.) They start out as eggs that can only be laid on milkweed. (Good thing I had let the weeds in my garden go for a little while!)<br />
2.) When the caterpillars hatch out of the eggs, they eat the milkweed, which is what makes them poisonous. (And I thought milkweed only killed out my vegetable plants!)<br />
3.) The caterpillars grow to be pretty big. They have yellow and black stripes and antennae-things coming out both ends.<br />
4.) When you see them hanging upside-down, they're just about to make their chrysalis. They hang and hang and hang and then, suddenly, in the span of half an hour (I know because I missed it happening...) they're encapsuled! Just like that! <br />
5.) This chrysalis looks a good deal smaller than the caterpillar that went into it. I was perplexed about this and then I saw body parts in the bottom of the container. Turns out, the head or the tail (can't tell which) falls off when they go into hiding. Crazy! It all looked so necessary half an hour before!<br />
6.) The chrysalis starts out jade green with gold (like, metallic-looking) dots on it. How and why do they make these gold dots? I don't know! They're perfectly arranged just-so. Decoration? Maybe. They don't seem to have much to do with the entrance or exit, which was my first guess.<br />
7.) Those dots start out white and yellow, actually. I know because I saw it. I have no idea how they change to gold. <br />
8.) And then...nothing. Mine took 15 days of nothing. Both of them. 15 days.<br />
9.) Then you start to see wing patterns -- swaths of orange, black, and white dots. I held it in my hand, then. It struck me as one of those capsules that turns into a foam animal when put in water. It was a butterfly-capsule! I could tell! <br />
10.) Overnight, the whole thing turned black, minus the orange swaths. It got a bit of a bulge on one side. Even the gold dots turned black on the bottom. How was this happening? Nothing was going into or out of the chrysalis, and yet crazy magic was happening inside.<br />
11.) It explodes. It must be a silent explosion, or at least a very quiet one, because I didn't hear it from the next room. But it's so fast and so much comes out that it has to be an explosion.<br />
12.) And then, there's this monarch. It's got a polka-dotted body. Imagine that! <br />
13.) Most monarchs live 2-6 weeks, laying their eggs and dying. There are three generations like that every spring-fall where we live. This is a lot of extravagance for such brief glory.<br />
14.) Not all monarchs die off that quickly. For some reason, the fourth generation, born in September-October, (i.e. MY monarchs...) live 6-8 months. Why? What process knows to make these bodies sturdier? I'm amazed.<br />
15.) These built-to-last monarchs make a trip all the way to Mexico to winter. This little creature sitting on my table, when I let it go, will fly all the way to Mexico. I am hundreds of times its size and am built to last a hundred times longer, and still I could not do it. How does it know where Mexico is? How does it not just end up lost over the Gulf? How does so much wind pass over its wings without breaking them? How can it weather storms on its way? I don't know. <br />
<br />
I am amazed by this creation. So much work gone into this beautiful thing I've watched be born into the cage I have for it. I have nearly seen the entire process (though I admit to missing the precise beginning of the most pivotal moments) and I am left with more questions than I had before that day weeding my garden. Learning often leaves me this way.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiMFdXxirXomE2PGNQtu7uxGgwQj8tSzjQzgkMrmnZao1Fta2QNHF1Yt4-xbHKJXf38qf5n-3BiWtIwpm1WmeG3LVnrPhohLtw53jByD93y2drg5CHmNY8Yt-tAQLuwcfdiY0HeRkPCM/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiMFdXxirXomE2PGNQtu7uxGgwQj8tSzjQzgkMrmnZao1Fta2QNHF1Yt4-xbHKJXf38qf5n-3BiWtIwpm1WmeG3LVnrPhohLtw53jByD93y2drg5CHmNY8Yt-tAQLuwcfdiY0HeRkPCM/s320/DSC_0053.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
one of the little caterpillars I found </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbc-0cioBN-rn_s5KGsPrAgw7dg7k66T9anPJeNICQ1NZe_1E2mq2Nrq7SMyapTzWK5p0mfFduy0a8q1pKVOLpVjjDg2C5MeMDonRzuNTHIEkkKV2VCECKPbiCPefmXXjq_sjUcXXjAg/s1600/DSC_0248.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbc-0cioBN-rn_s5KGsPrAgw7dg7k66T9anPJeNICQ1NZe_1E2mq2Nrq7SMyapTzWK5p0mfFduy0a8q1pKVOLpVjjDg2C5MeMDonRzuNTHIEkkKV2VCECKPbiCPefmXXjq_sjUcXXjAg/s320/DSC_0248.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
getting ready to build its chrysalis </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8zWYjb7gkYwoLJYU8O68uhVKMy2vJNDDuXsgGH2u9khQAcDnm_FbmuXQYtCp_xh2h6-_cHaPRMPv1jzP6aaeHm4pGzmRaLM3u_I6T40-LZGq3V9MGXNBLFKLc1YhF4uipZ5X6Jy8Qa8/s1600/DSC_0252.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8zWYjb7gkYwoLJYU8O68uhVKMy2vJNDDuXsgGH2u9khQAcDnm_FbmuXQYtCp_xh2h6-_cHaPRMPv1jzP6aaeHm4pGzmRaLM3u_I6T40-LZGq3V9MGXNBLFKLc1YhF4uipZ5X6Jy8Qa8/s320/DSC_0252.JPG" width="309" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
finishing up its chrysalis </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDcf2XmVXgJBQsZAiPpIOS1FyY1aUYTJMT6UgHPPOCXTwvWPltuu18Ja6s-F2eZWC3Oofw4C6-PbPxkI6xdqwc-QU7nr-sVi49XoulzuP9ZecZ1-Qu66wngjP_ELARdWOigVAoEbtQDo/s1600/DSC_0256.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDcf2XmVXgJBQsZAiPpIOS1FyY1aUYTJMT6UgHPPOCXTwvWPltuu18Ja6s-F2eZWC3Oofw4C6-PbPxkI6xdqwc-QU7nr-sVi49XoulzuP9ZecZ1-Qu66wngjP_ELARdWOigVAoEbtQDo/s320/DSC_0256.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
from the back side, making its chrysalis</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the yellow and white turned into the gold in the picture below</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OW3xTURQ1fwS8VqI0m2In4EYJAEWAOILqdVXatIVTKNRyRv1l_JnSEUB2AtEjG5wqAdRNFtDSvpH42S03GNGZ9-X84_e1N0ZZnxViaAve9H_Px_kIv-wh-rsm3XffCTIsI1ssULaIY4/s1600/DSC_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OW3xTURQ1fwS8VqI0m2In4EYJAEWAOILqdVXatIVTKNRyRv1l_JnSEUB2AtEjG5wqAdRNFtDSvpH42S03GNGZ9-X84_e1N0ZZnxViaAve9H_Px_kIv-wh-rsm3XffCTIsI1ssULaIY4/s320/DSC_0010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
just beginning to see the wings through the chrysalis (yesterday)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it looked like this, minus seeing the wings, for 14 days</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldhqWmIO1gJ7uwUHYjQ8XNyWkUc0TzY31Sf3AQBnFnbE8UFkpHF94_cKEbYdD5CkUxcp510HUT3dmmhtF0WZPkrPCKaZMrPRtpa5XEVY5CFKxoOkDd53ZOfFOMzFYCbmmqNaGrTHMfVA/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldhqWmIO1gJ7uwUHYjQ8XNyWkUc0TzY31Sf3AQBnFnbE8UFkpHF94_cKEbYdD5CkUxcp510HUT3dmmhtF0WZPkrPCKaZMrPRtpa5XEVY5CFKxoOkDd53ZOfFOMzFYCbmmqNaGrTHMfVA/s320/DSC_0024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
butterfly capsule an hour before it emerged</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUnPuO237vg1tLQPrKKRVSHCHQ81HCkaIh1P60pgqd8TIDuNl9V7Ugd9zYbKcm6y5Tq-nU7_rBTSisbstnnORSU4qIlV_UyqSBWWm4Q2EZ9vSq1MYMDKTVpJZf3BhUqfUidnfrRoiM1Q/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUnPuO237vg1tLQPrKKRVSHCHQ81HCkaIh1P60pgqd8TIDuNl9V7Ugd9zYbKcm6y5Tq-nU7_rBTSisbstnnORSU4qIlV_UyqSBWWm4Q2EZ9vSq1MYMDKTVpJZf3BhUqfUidnfrRoiM1Q/s320/DSC_0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
only now I realize this is part of its face looking through the chrysalis</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIr-GqDFCBsW-BYce7Nwg54BXmwtcstdWgVZpuOHj8oqhkO4HJBeHhoWlNuge_tE23OYTNeSpQiuwN0YGKErPz4ImqSdBTnaOynxsvvvOEH0sAoFxDMNYCESJA0sIkRSM36w3G0bntNo/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIr-GqDFCBsW-BYce7Nwg54BXmwtcstdWgVZpuOHj8oqhkO4HJBeHhoWlNuge_tE23OYTNeSpQiuwN0YGKErPz4ImqSdBTnaOynxsvvvOEH0sAoFxDMNYCESJA0sIkRSM36w3G0bntNo/s320/DSC_0028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
just coming out, unfolding wings</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD_l1ChLmBG2xJ4HrOX3mdpMjTiz8yYLFWU2yiWV1TSMd21173lg6sfJobz0I7OVL5J2Yzn_SnnmXq85qBG8C0Eejjzy7f1HWuyGwptOvxv6AERMOxuJJkGRN3d-AEa2K2v_FaSBsRb4/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD_l1ChLmBG2xJ4HrOX3mdpMjTiz8yYLFWU2yiWV1TSMd21173lg6sfJobz0I7OVL5J2Yzn_SnnmXq85qBG8C0Eejjzy7f1HWuyGwptOvxv6AERMOxuJJkGRN3d-AEa2K2v_FaSBsRb4/s320/DSC_0032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
curled wings and other things, floppy antennae</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrA0etIa-vXC9lXQQ5fFjO2AZBTJqmp7RQGPBUeruBOZvbyEB3Vc6v_Cz2But94wPqRl3htHSJn2O_Thq-1vf47Jt_t6BPsfgfCBbNalW6DKMw05RdFcEfnN0HTou-jvtNFEn67XKQOg/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrA0etIa-vXC9lXQQ5fFjO2AZBTJqmp7RQGPBUeruBOZvbyEB3Vc6v_Cz2But94wPqRl3htHSJn2O_Thq-1vf47Jt_t6BPsfgfCBbNalW6DKMw05RdFcEfnN0HTou-jvtNFEn67XKQOg/s320/DSC_0035.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
black and white underside before the wings unfurled to cover it </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYcfj5U3GX41-CtTnsngyHr_R57aPe8k9ZTfsrkr1kdY4iILeijLSkNoWWRP1h5RO9ioLdCGea0fM-s6CX5yErEC2d-ENgqbdpGmD8xEtaNjY0z6t0uuZ6jGR17BVxejIy3XGjRPwiuM/s1600/DSC_0492.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYcfj5U3GX41-CtTnsngyHr_R57aPe8k9ZTfsrkr1kdY4iILeijLSkNoWWRP1h5RO9ioLdCGea0fM-s6CX5yErEC2d-ENgqbdpGmD8xEtaNjY0z6t0uuZ6jGR17BVxejIy3XGjRPwiuM/s320/DSC_0492.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiMFdXxirXomE2PGNQtu7uxGgwQj8tSzjQzgkMrmnZao1Fta2QNHF1Yt4-xbHKJXf38qf5n-3BiWtIwpm1WmeG3LVnrPhohLtw53jByD93y2drg5CHmNY8Yt-tAQLuwcfdiY0HeRkPCM/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
first butterfly taking flight</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I can see this second butterfly in front of me, hanging and drying its wings beside its empty chrysalis now. I have no idea how this birth just happened. I see it. It looks impossible. There's no way this creature just emerged from something 1/2 its size. I know it's true, but it's kind of unbelievable. It's one of the every-day miracles on this planet. Maybe it's ridiculous to go on this way about a butterfly. This happens all the time, after all. It's not like I've seen something never-before-seen. I could say, "Yes, I've known since <u>The Very Hungry Caterpillar</u> that this is what happens." Or I could watch, mouth gaping, scratching my head and praising whatever Being understands this and made it so. Maybe it's even more amazing that this is so common-place. How in this broken world can miracles like this happen every day? I stand amazed and believing. </div>
<br />
Maybe we can all emerge from these cramped conditions stronger, more beautiful beings, taking flight. keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-73941840461386886952012-09-06T08:55:00.000-04:002012-09-07T11:08:20.956-04:00unbroken Though this whole process with Lia's family being united under one roof is far from a done deal, I have to say at least I am greatly encouraged by the progress I know of. Since this is a case currently being heard in the courts, details of who is saying what are just not available, so I wait with just as many unknowns as the rest of you and likely just slightly different set of unknowns than the Frank family is experiencing themselves. I often break off trying to imagine what they must be going through. I can't imagine.<br />
<br />
Someone asked, and I don't know the exact timeline, but sometime this summer, God healed Lia. I don't know how it happened. I don't know if the medical community has a way of explaining this or if the healing was just as enigmatic as the entire rest of her life until then. But I know that where there was once hurt, brokenness, and a kind of hopelessness, there is now wholeness and the promise of a much-less-painful future. And I know that it doesn't matter to me whether the medical community has a way of explaining it or not -- this sort of a break-through after so many years searching for one is a great miracle. I am in awe of it. It's the sort of miraculous healing that I doubt I could comprehend, even if it were explained to me by the best medical professional or even an angel. <br />
<br />
And this second healing -- of Lia's family -- that we're asking for involves its own hurt, brokenness, and kind of hopelessness. If healing is going to take place for<i> this</i>, it's going to take a miracle. Much will need to happen to bind up this family and Rhys in particular, I'd imagine. It's the sort of thing that calls into question the very core of who a person is. I wince at the thought of <i>anyone</i> calling me into question, much less a person with the authority to tear my loving family apart. Healing from that will take a miracle. It will take God stepping in. <br />
<br />
The hope that presents itself is that He <i>is</i> stepping in. When Lia's body was broken, I found hope in the love I could see within her family and in the persistent faith and constant assertion of God's goodness in the middle of it all. Now, I find hope in how I see the Body of Christ sweeping in to protect and support this part that is broken. Somehow, word is getting out and people are being prompted to support. Some have opened their homes. Some have taken to fasting and prayer. Some have given money. Some have given of their time. Others have offered up their skills. It will take all these things -- serious commitment from friends and kindness of strangers and the favor of God over it all. This is the sort of healing we feel we can comprehend, since we understand talk of relationships and money and generosity. One person has this or that and gives it to someone else. But for all of these people and resources and unseen agents being at the right place at the right time to hear and respond...it is and will be a miracle. <br />
<br />
That said, the most easily quantifiable sign of hope we have is the money. The money is not what will solve this problem<span style="font-family: inherit;"> or heal this family, but as it is going to pay for legal representation, it opens up the road ahead of</span> the Frank family. It's an expensive key. They have to pay $12k to their lawyers by Sept. 11. And this without having a source of income (that was lost when Dave had to stop working to be the adult staying with their kids). Many of us have dealt with losing income. I've never had to deal with it at a time when bills like this were mounting. But yesterday I read from Rhys's mom....<br />
<br />
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">Great
news! We are now at approximately $11,276 and are within striking
distance of our first goal of $12,000!. Thanks to everyone for their
generosity. The Lord is good.</span></span></i></div>
<br />
and I am reassured that nothing is impossible for God. This is the first goal. I would imagine some of what is to come depends on how hearings go and how long this is expected to be in the courts. But we're almost to the first goal...maybe EARLY! (Wouldn't that be great?!) <br />
<br />
I didn't set up the account to raise the funds, so I have no idea who gives and when, but thank you because I'm sure some of you did. Thanks to all who have been praying and praying and doing whatever it is within your power to do. I'm sure it encourages Rhys; I know it encourages me. We serve a God who is limitless and whose love for us remains unbroken. We know and hope and rely on it being so. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-80641250091466019002012-08-23T17:00:00.002-04:002012-09-08T22:01:58.358-04:00Enriching roots<br />
<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0EhtPQDsmbGcpsfXm1lbnP8QLDhJxdyAhw6T82fg2lB7oaB3a8Xn3XTCllrPDv70aQ8-GZ9RcLIu42TsqX2mf-3fA8p-R14oGb_ArVOiMVTmIvtjQc57njXlJNRwzpE3gK0p-k7bF9U/s320/DSC_0404.JPG" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the family tree that hangs in my grandma's house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
--> </style><span style="font-size: small;">I mean the title of this blog in many ways. I like trees and the various parts of them. I like the idea of always stretching higher and never ceasing to grow; I also like being anchored and growing deep in a place. I had the pleasure of sitting down with my Grandma a couple weeks ago to look at old pictures. I had come only hoping for pictures of my Grandma as a young girl. I would never have expected such an exploration of my roots as I got. Since so many generations of my family spent at least some of their lives in the same fold of Black Mountain as I did, I was able not only to look at pictures, but to drive to the places where my relatives lived and worked. I came away feeling even more anchored to the people and the place they called home for a time. It is a wonderful place to grow from.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Last year I started watching and listening to Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
<a href="http://www.pbs.org/wnet/finding-your-roots/" target="_blank">explore the family line of various famous people</a>. I've never considered
myself much of a history buff, but learning about how individuals came
to be who and where they are is fascinating to me. I'm not very
impressed by genealogies as a list of names without faces or stories.
There is very little for me to connect to in just a name. But back to Henry Louis Gates. I first became interested in watching a
documentary on him tracing the roots of famous African Americans, trying
to trace them back to Africa. Because that task is so difficult in the
case of African Americans, what with the splitting of families and the
taking of masters' last names in the era of slavery, I saw what a
treasure finding those people (even their names) and their stories truly
is. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikdoU6ng3eKQDnRmFEcXq9G2ghvdS7aYjJGXo6WAM49qPaO4WOYcZwea3FsTrYOA90YXodMgTtfb0bIWRFACJHSthYeu_4IMDNJ3NPULB7YH1WMzDlD0FZp_kp2GhT6eyF6Szy00rchf8/s320/Scan+4.tiff" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alfred and Martha Peters, <br />
my great-great-great grandparents</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7fUCjRKIyipKDwl9JzE6LxXlpJfqj0x_TB1Cd5JwOaPwEuzUY9HlrucKEpilRMrMEMZLjJxI-GDDXjbD4ncg5WyigYWUIQX9flDWHR1nMFc2T8nUnXw32Nv_0bks2lkxWDhzOv0LUPs/s320/Scan+1.tiff" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right: Ira Peters, my great-great grandfather</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, not long afterwards, I reflected that I had never bothered to gather this information
about my own family. But there I was, sitting with my Grandma, when it landed in my lap. "This is your
great-great Grandpa." (He's the one on the bottom right, with the darker eyes.)
His name was Ira Peters. He wasn't originally a Peters, though. We don't
know what he was. He was left on the Peters's doorstep as a baby and
they raised him. I never knew there was an adoption in my family! I happen to think adoption is pretty cool. Of course, this means I can't trace any medical history back further than Ira Peters, but it's a small price to pay, really. :) This is the family his birth mom knew would take good care of him. Their names were Alfred (1830-1910) and Martha Peters (1830-1900). I don't know any other stories about them, but it looks like great-great-great Grandpa Peters might easily crack a smile. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIkH-yRUB9__tuUFqULF3RGAEIVsZ1WWszGDRWP9lfk68GLDpj533X83pY6oS0difqQvgF9e49Gy-EDE7jv0JAC2o0uU0reamfCUGvg5cftgPZcpx9qw2I8HPAmmM1cjyG8CwsL8rC1Y/s320/Scan+22.tiff" width="174" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy (Martin) Peters,<br />
my Mamaw's mom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH0bwZegJWf0M7EGxadLEkHj4G345ZpTcuk27ZhFJ860PSImPpnIjXx3qaaIhdhvUn7BJgy-zOHe4Bc9AJGQ7KMWMAH539vdHwQc_nq-7o_ABWFwf8718X4231DDeKWyieHxegnYNkH8/s320/Scan+15.tiff" width="214" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy (Martin) Peters,<br />
my great-great grandma</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;">So Ira was born in 1861. That means the Peters were 31 when they became his parents. In 1891, when Ira was 30, he married Lucy Martin, who my Grandma calls Grandma Peters. He died in 1908, around age 47. Lucy, though, lived to be 90. My Grandma knew her and she actually died in the house where we were talking. She was my great-great-grandma. But I knew my great-grandma, Mamaw, so to me this lady doesn't feel far removed; she's Mamaw's mom. I loved seeing pictures of her. She must've been some kind of tough lady. Grandma said that since Ira had died young, she was left to raise (I think it was 6?) kids by herself. So she ran a farm and raised the kids herself. She made sure they all (including the girls) got an education, which was not common back then. I admire this</span><span style="font-size: small;"> lady. Just look at her. In every picture (and there are several), she looks so spunky</span><span style="font-size: small;"> and no-nonsen</span><span style="font-size: small;">se. </span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLA-HOyaoHvJhZFCwHWFCuA0Ub7OPy5T-o7RQdISL9uU3lk-uoGbPhLzJ_mE_RjP6pVtbYi9FgO5VBZ7fGDZ1OMCbHNEcR6yrKwI3hw0Nd0ofcOcXRK1U9tK5QQjHgCnc_xnViHIl8T30/s1600/Scan+38.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLA-HOyaoHvJhZFCwHWFCuA0Ub7OPy5T-o7RQdISL9uU3lk-uoGbPhLzJ_mE_RjP6pVtbYi9FgO5VBZ7fGDZ1OMCbHNEcR6yrKwI3hw0Nd0ofcOcXRK1U9tK5QQjHgCnc_xnViHIl8T30/s320/Scan+38.tiff" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamaw Sherman in front of her house <br />
up Gap Branch in Lynch, KY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ7InY1Otc55LTsjzP568EKgPyVUdif0HeaUo1ClxU_d_vjHRrzlqP0n1tNkPPy3bGgxr8UMBL1Gps8TJOwCKiULne1TeovEPOo_lArsP6VKdgeY9vJzpLzPNZOgAoBWBZtXSd2VSiAc/s1600/Scan+37.tiff" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ7InY1Otc55LTsjzP568EKgPyVUdif0HeaUo1ClxU_d_vjHRrzlqP0n1tNkPPy3bGgxr8UMBL1Gps8TJOwCKiULne1TeovEPOo_lArsP6VKdgeY9vJzpLzPNZOgAoBWBZtXSd2VSiAc/s320/Scan+37.tiff" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clifford and Gertrude Sherman,<br />
my Papaw and Mamaw Sherman,<br />
my great-grandparents</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So "Grandma
Peters" lived to be 90 and had a lot of kids. One of them was my Mamaw,
Gertrude (Peters) Sherman. Mamaw was born in 1899, I believe. She lived to be 100, which means our lives overlapped until I started college. She married my great-grandpa,
Clifford, and they had 6 kids. I knew each of them to a great or lesser extent.
Here are a couple shots of them that I like. (I knew my "Papaw
Sherman" too...but I'm just following the women here, for brevity's sake.) </span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">She and Papaw Sherman raised their family up Gap Branch in one of the little houses built by the coal company for its employees. Grandma once called it Shack 11, but immediately made sure to let me know how nice they had made the place. Later, they moved a few miles up the valley to Cumberland, to the house where I was sitting with my Grandma. I remember celebrating her birthday every year in that house with family and a few family friends. We crammed 50-70 people in their house and all tried to come close enough to see the cake when we sang "Happy Birthday." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mamaw Sherman raised her own six children, who are or were fine people to know and I knew/know them each, since everyone who was ever related to my Mamaw has never stopped getting together for family reunions twice a year. (We usually only make one of them, though.) Mamaw also took in her aging mother for the last five years of her life. When she was 60, she started raising one of her grandsons and did a very fine job.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJdmnDxMFGaKuyAztWRikDA-9xha5Ac0KST0GfgmtLgzRUM1BPaVgtxqlUFCpojOqvxHE5AJF6ABJVmFU3ftUHoXK5WTe511TX3BCuCHhZJsjWTSodv0VHkxfjGSpBH6lu2o6aUkU044/s320/Scan+44.tiff" width="210" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juanita Sherman around age 14<br />
my grandma</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaA3NcCc9-6DUfwo9fOniLvjs666V2dprT9avl84d9puSNYbR-0j7OhFjEprgllzlzb8pwMCaR-wz5pZPTTYtKKHjFKiq43hhvwx2W5UArxo8PvjJ_5mIdCgYInbv0JX9m-pBO-JVGqY/s320/Scan+35.tiff" width="197" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my Papaw and Grandma when they were dating</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">One of the children she raised was my Grandma, who was born in 1930. She was a cute little girl from all the pictures. I'm not sharing them
all here, but I plan to make good use of them. :) She grew up in Lynch during the
Depression.
When she was 19, she married my Papaw, Jim Slusher, who was one of the orneriest men
I've ever known. We all loved him for it. They got married in 1949 and
were married over 50 years before he died when I was in college.
</span><span style="font-size: small;">They lived in Lynch, too, mostly downhill from where Grandma grew up on Gap Branch. Grandma told me how glad she was to move into their little (but "bigger" to them) house that had two bedrooms plus one that was converted from a little porch. They raised their four kids there -- a fact which amazes us all when we think about it. I think it was around 1992 or so that they moved in with Mamaw and Papaw Sherman to take care of them as they were getting older. (Grandma would talk about when the older generation stopped "keeping house," a phrase I like a lot. It's a good job description.) She has always quietly taken care of whatever needed done, making it seem effortless. She is still very good at keeping house, and we were well-fed during our stay with food she had grown just down the hill. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBn5gmUCqH3QFiz3rhQYHQXAOrDlCOXf8QO28M3BD2wamBMR7GxyNbCiXtAcEyBL8vp_ODTBWF2VHGrpop0OlFfyeYVN5OYj82tuwjIGwtA1vkaz6s0eD0sqpdY_Fct1rlBz-siuFcero/s1600/Scan+67.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBn5gmUCqH3QFiz3rhQYHQXAOrDlCOXf8QO28M3BD2wamBMR7GxyNbCiXtAcEyBL8vp_ODTBWF2VHGrpop0OlFfyeYVN5OYj82tuwjIGwtA1vkaz6s0eD0sqpdY_Fct1rlBz-siuFcero/s320/Scan+67.tiff" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad and his cousins in Mamaw's yard. That's him on<br />
the left in the loud pants. He says I don't understand. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozvWyvq7ovlhzXsukusBWP7focRz-97b_Fv5JZjfnbb8dVJZClh1tWTIvpBD6WitoHGvP-IzEfu986ygejGLoaRuP917kukVCsBBoh7rW4UlSQQDCp0oEPqwGT7kri-5l6tPQMWS6GNI/s1600/Scan+110.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozvWyvq7ovlhzXsukusBWP7focRz-97b_Fv5JZjfnbb8dVJZClh1tWTIvpBD6WitoHGvP-IzEfu986ygejGLoaRuP917kukVCsBBoh7rW4UlSQQDCp0oEPqwGT7kri-5l6tPQMWS6GNI/s320/Scan+110.tiff" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and dad when they were younger than I am now</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Grandma's second child and first son was my Dad, James. Unfortunately, I didn't scan many pictures of him on this trip, though this one stood out! My mom thought he looked cute, I guess. They got married 35 years ago and lived in the town between Lynch (where my dad grew up) and Cumberland (where my mom grew up): Benham. I grew up there until 1990. Like his dad, my dad was a coal miner and worked in Lynch. (My great-grandpa, Papaw Sherman, had a job working the trains at the mine in Lynch.) In 1990, my dad was one of many coal miners laid off and we moved to central Kentucky, where I spent the second half of my childhood. My parents still live in the house I grew up in there. We visited the mountains often, since it is where both sides of my family are from. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In 1981, James and Libby Slusher had a daugher: me! Four years later, they also had a son, but he'd be mad if I re-posted the picture I scanned of him here! :) I wonder what parts of all these people ended up in this little face and how much of my personality was handed directly to me from some of the people in these pictures.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwY_UbwJcvKg_DD6YdU-EsQkMiGwxd_UMoKnK9UgPO3lOKj-ijDtsBzvvnqgIK3EzG8IFmvvrdHqACasXIYCpnGE5QLVs-6nJ8mG5feA4ib0KDHbgu8hLvs1ULOHEf77F0mJqeheBS14/s1600/Scan+115.tiff" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwY_UbwJcvKg_DD6YdU-EsQkMiGwxd_UMoKnK9UgPO3lOKj-ijDtsBzvvnqgIK3EzG8IFmvvrdHqACasXIYCpnGE5QLVs-6nJ8mG5feA4ib0KDHbgu8hLvs1ULOHEf77F0mJqeheBS14/s320/Scan+115.tiff" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">little me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I feel so rich! I have all
these pictures on my computer to share. I felt rich hearing personal accounts
of years and people I never knew. I feel rich being able to talk to and spend
time with my Grandma, who still works as hard as women half her age! I feel
rich because I knew and remember four of my great-grandparents. I feel rich
hearing of the hardship that had to be overcome in order for things to work out
for me to even exist! My family is made of people who were born in and who took in. My family was a group of hard-working people from the
mountains of Kentucky, largely coal miners and teachers. They lived long lives and each
generation cared for their parents in their old age. We raised our own food
(still
do to an extent!) and loved sharing food together. </span><style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->We </style><span style="font-size: small;">We weren't rich in money, but each generation did very well with what they had. It is a proud legacy I hope to carry on. Thanks for letting me share some of it with you! </span></div>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Times;
panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}</style><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRy7pW2v6J0LUdZpPzIqX6CFq66iosGJxX_iQI6fs5n926zxfa3krDAJdTB9MyUFuaWXKjgHn7j2W3NqDFyoR4hRWrWPFqFAPAkrrRlznUtN50njIRqbc7gTNQfU-mfOKtqd1deRYlO8/s1600/DSC_0105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRy7pW2v6J0LUdZpPzIqX6CFq66iosGJxX_iQI6fs5n926zxfa3krDAJdTB9MyUFuaWXKjgHn7j2W3NqDFyoR4hRWrWPFqFAPAkrrRlznUtN50njIRqbc7gTNQfU-mfOKtqd1deRYlO8/s320/DSC_0105.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and my Grandma after looking through all these pictures<br />
(same place as the picture of my dad in those pants!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaA3NcCc9-6DUfwo9fOniLvjs666V2dprT9avl84d9puSNYbR-0j7OhFjEprgllzlzb8pwMCaR-wz5pZPTTYtKKHjFKiq43hhvwx2W5UArxo8PvjJ_5mIdCgYInbv0JX9m-pBO-JVGqY/s1600/Scan+35.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ7InY1Otc55LTsjzP568EKgPyVUdif0HeaUo1ClxU_d_vjHRrzlqP0n1tNkPPy3bGgxr8UMBL1Gps8TJOwCKiULne1TeovEPOo_lArsP6VKdgeY9vJzpLzPNZOgAoBWBZtXSd2VSiAc/s1600/Scan+37.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikdoU6ng3eKQDnRmFEcXq9G2ghvdS7aYjJGXo6WAM49qPaO4WOYcZwea3FsTrYOA90YXodMgTtfb0bIWRFACJHSthYeu_4IMDNJ3NPULB7YH1WMzDlD0FZp_kp2GhT6eyF6Szy00rchf8/s1600/Scan+4.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7fUCjRKIyipKDwl9JzE6LxXlpJfqj0x_TB1Cd5JwOaPwEuzUY9HlrucKEpilRMrMEMZLjJxI-GDDXjbD4ncg5WyigYWUIQX9flDWHR1nMFc2T8nUnXw32Nv_0bks2lkxWDhzOv0LUPs/s1600/Scan+1.tiff" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-36361284704940842662012-07-22T22:40:00.003-04:002012-09-08T22:00:20.617-04:00on worms and little girls<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_344079135" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.pfwingard.com/innuendo/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/worm-300x225.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.pfwingard.com/innuendo/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/worm-300x225.jpg" target="_blank">not my picture, but it seemed a good illustration. </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Life seems more full of great (or, you know, not-so-great) moments these days than trains of thought, but there is a very sweet moment I have to share from today. <br />
<br />
Eden and I were walking home and she happened upon a dead worm on the sidewalk. It was hard and flat. And dead. She picked it up, turning its two dimensions around, trying to figure out why it wasn't the way it was supposed to be, I guess. I didn't wait for her to ask.<br />
"It's dead," I told her. <br />
"We can put it in the shade," she said, since that's what we do with worms when we dig them up. We bury them in our compost pile. It makes for all kinds of small "good" in the world. I've taught her well. <br />
"No, don't touch it. You're going to need to wash your hands. It's dead."<br />
I took her hand to keep walking so she wouldn't stick her dead-worm-toting fingers straight into her mouth. She made some other hopeful sort of suggestion.<br />
"No, it's DEAD," I said, again. "It's not going to come back alive again. Dead things don't come back alive."<br />
"But people come back alive," she said in her matter-of-fact way.<br />
We just finished learning the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the grave. And we talk about Jesus giving us new bodies when these die. And I've made up and taught the kids a song on the verse "All things are possible with God." I guess me saying that dead things don't come back alive sent these recent contradictory snippets running through <i>both</i> our minds. However, it's not <i>generally</i> the way things work. The girl is going to have to know that. But in a way that doesn't cancel out the truth of all those things I've taught her. How is it God works, anyway? I don't really know. What can I say? <br />
"Well, people only come back alive because Jesus makes them."<br />
We kept walking. Eden made another effort: "We could put water on it." <br />
I realized I had two choices. I could proclaim to her that there is never any hope for dead, dried-up things. We could leave the worm there and it would most certainly stay dead. Or we could take the worm back to our yard, stick it in some wet dirt, and let the conversation continue on its own without me having to drill into her the ugly truths about dead worms and dead things in general. I went with Option B. <br />
We went back to the worm. Eden remembered exactly where it was as I was still searching for it. Looking at it, I had to admit that, though it was completely dried up, it wasn't <i>completely</i> hard and flat. It had one little spot on it that looked like it might bend instead of break if you forced the issue. <br />
I let her pick it up again and I carried it home in a discarded McDonald's cup. We put it in the peat moss under our apple tree, poured some water on it, and buried it with a thin layer of the watered ground. Water. Shade. That's all we could do. I put the cup we had used to carry it home upside-down over it to mark the spot so we could check on it later. I didn't want the false hope offered by a bird finding it first or something. <br />
After naptime, I decided to have the first look. I took the cup away and the worm was gone. I dug around and spread out the dirt. Yep. Gone. <br />
What happened to the worm? I guess I can't say for sure. There's always some chance I'm wrong, but I told Eden it crawled away. (Wouldn't you know she was sad about this, crying that she wanted to keep it?)<br />
There are plenty of unpleasant things I'm going to have to teach my kids. Plenty of unpleasant things and downright horrible things I've already had to tell them about the world. But on this day, in this moment with my sweet little girl, she has taught me well.keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-25175347764180342602012-06-20T21:10:00.001-04:002012-09-08T21:59:03.239-04:00visions and sights around the corner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbeTMWiTaW4yV-PzndOUFm7vMHbc19Kokq_lRgc0ax_drFt_4l7SZoFj8cm6dyow1fwPcJOu5LZS_sJE0eVHiPivkeReBZdJT2GEd-ZnqrPmYYXzTMwS_digAEowwwhqzAPSVcqxVuHU/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-06-13+at+12.19.40+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
If you read the post on my other blog about <a href="http://godsmountainpeople.blogspot.com/2012/05/wild-god.html">needing to get out of my yard sometimes</a>, you'll catch the irony that I just returned from a vacation across the mountains and am happy to begin work in my yard. Then again, the whole point of vacation is to help you return ready to tackle your normal life with renewed vigor, right?<br />
<br />
At least for the first week+ back, we've all felt the extra umpf to work out in the yard we bought last year, which is just around the corner from our back yard. Iz in particular only wants to "work outside" all day, every day. Walk to friends? No, thanks. I want to work in the yard. Eden is happy picking raspberries to share with the neighbors all day long. <br />
<br />
You see, we've had this plan. We drew it up months ago on the site growveg.com. It makes me happy to sit and just look at it. We won't get the plan done in one year, for sure. I've been calling it a 5-10 year plan. But the awesome thing is how much of it we've been able to get done in the last month! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbeTMWiTaW4yV-PzndOUFm7vMHbc19Kokq_lRgc0ax_drFt_4l7SZoFj8cm6dyow1fwPcJOu5LZS_sJE0eVHiPivkeReBZdJT2GEd-ZnqrPmYYXzTMwS_digAEowwwhqzAPSVcqxVuHU/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-06-13+at+12.19.40+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbeTMWiTaW4yV-PzndOUFm7vMHbc19Kokq_lRgc0ax_drFt_4l7SZoFj8cm6dyow1fwPcJOu5LZS_sJE0eVHiPivkeReBZdJT2GEd-ZnqrPmYYXzTMwS_digAEowwwhqzAPSVcqxVuHU/s640/Screen+shot+2012-06-13+at+12.19.40+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
There it is! THE PLAN. You can map out your yard (our house is along most of the bottom of this drawing, with the kids' playhouse in our regular back yard at the bottom right and the front of the property on the far left) and fill in whatever plants you want! It automatically fills in the suggested spacing for each plant and will even give you a graph showing when to plant and harvest each crop! Genius! So here's how it's going: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitz77rH4JR5VqOdtyX4K4ZMFezu5dM5AqPKT4BTYBwrICjJYu7ZVoRAPWhpLhOvnmXr128yXkCZGpTlAiCiI4kZvYrb8kz2c0-i1iTIP06HIJQnGFq43vKqMxBwEirkoS82ZDrS7USQLs/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitz77rH4JR5VqOdtyX4K4ZMFezu5dM5AqPKT4BTYBwrICjJYu7ZVoRAPWhpLhOvnmXr128yXkCZGpTlAiCiI4kZvYrb8kz2c0-i1iTIP06HIJQnGFq43vKqMxBwEirkoS82ZDrS7USQLs/s320/DSC_0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The weekend before vacation, we rented a bobcat to pull as much gravel as possible out of the yard. I think the yard was about 40% gravel, at least a foot deep. Maybe more. An epic 2 driveways and an improved alley later (you're welcome, Muncie...), our yard looked slightly different than it had before the three days of work. We're gradually pushing the wild brush and random stuff back to the edges, at least.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3H076FKYBv3PK-71VbbQoZ6vmq-6mvNfHwYTdCzhkSp59DxmsLrR9sXrV-h68kMd1fruPAhxGutdq7YEH726fvrUUSE7QJbrpl2lTdl0amryOam7HviG0RdkoZls5JJaiT2UuFZe4_B8/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3H076FKYBv3PK-71VbbQoZ6vmq-6mvNfHwYTdCzhkSp59DxmsLrR9sXrV-h68kMd1fruPAhxGutdq7YEH726fvrUUSE7QJbrpl2lTdl0amryOam7HviG0RdkoZls5JJaiT2UuFZe4_B8/s320/DSC_0027.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At this point, neighbors started coming over to ask what we're doing. One next-street-over neighbor we did not know previously came and operated the bobcat one hot afternoon, just because he has a lot of experience doing it and wanted to be kind. Another just came to check it out and give advice. Others say we are absolute angels for working so hard. (I have yet to figure out how those two things are related. Working on my own yard feels just a bit selfish, though I hope to host people in it eventually...or now.) Some let Eden give them raspberries to eat. Kids see us digging and come over to help. It feels like the way things should be. <br />
<br />
We didn't get as much done with the bobcat as we'd hoped, so we have been and will be leveling and smoothing the land by rake and shovel from here on out. It sounded horrible to me, but we were able to level the whole garden area in just four evenings of work. Ta-da! (The garden level we did by hand is at the far end of this picture.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5H7buGOYypXS3xPfTX4ACC4PG_jHKjIdZVNhBjBqnHzT7_Tm_66iB-fGe1uH-JDMEuHiXyJ4A9CukemKydrTRcX9_T_f1SwKXVQWBefgDTeFgRMJ6b0y8UFo-_ldCEMcxlNU_I5M4aUI/s320/DSC_0269.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBxZfVrHVEwuxZGgzNE1Z220nx38ZsIaRWDvIjyOoxPAN2N61FFqBLOotNCOutoeBC7kccHr0q8YtpWDNXAv6kUH-bgfY1mtoZdY3LYHJfqpLZS63PHxq6L-BTjmsiBQHf5Wtbe_RCdU/s1600/DSC_0271.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgop7mNf3gNTFb3kt-PnzIUccFieNfvBRVy2NXMjHTmpF61EHI3T4YkHJ37NWG7nomighISrCQA7_vP2eOqezX427BG5LQiWy-mjFksHWTInUwf2mNZwZoSXw05EYue_2mrK8u-jt9wcjg/s320/DSC_0096.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not in our yard...yet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
The PLAN is to dig a trench pond like the one I saw at the Indy Zoo/White River Gardens. It had these frogs shooting water into it and that seemed really fun to me. (That's the blue in the drawing.) It is so much fun to me to be an adult who is able to see something like that and realize I could put it in my own yard for very little money. (I think. We're not done, yet!) We were going to have it just be a semi-circle near the house, but then we went to Williamsburg and saw the cute bridge over such a feature and thought, Why not? We have lots of extra wood to build one. So I think we'll give it a shot. Not that we know about building bridges. Maybe our neighbors do.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6McNhg_HtXZNtT9pcXvsLS7NZmJWBd78UI2mQxgZ2Wy1V5YlH16YbLxz3n-3t-059E-vm5d0Jjtv1QBbmtD78WZKdCAyrF2ZskIkBaf_zvziUs12ZIfhUpSnBU2YrxQzJNWvcit0qTv8/s320/DSC_0149.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the little bridge at Williamsburg<br />
It will go to the right of the left-hand tree in the picture below. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBxZfVrHVEwuxZGgzNE1Z220nx38ZsIaRWDvIjyOoxPAN2N61FFqBLOotNCOutoeBC7kccHr0q8YtpWDNXAv6kUH-bgfY1mtoZdY3LYHJfqpLZS63PHxq6L-BTjmsiBQHf5Wtbe_RCdU/s320/DSC_0271.JPG" width="320" /> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
After we got the basic garden shape dug and leveled, we got a bunch of old cedar boards (like 50 years old!) that had been the stands at the fairgrounds in town. We've heard a rumor that John Dillinger's butt may have been on one of these very boards.... :) In one day, with the help of a dear middle school student, we built, filled, and planted nine beds! (We have to leave open space for future construction for now.) To my astonishment, we have not 2 beds of tomatoes, but more than four! 50 TOMATO PLANTS!!! Oops! I kept thinking we didn't really have many. I will have to become well-seasoned at canning this fall.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFbeTMWiTaW4yV-PzndOUFm7vMHbc19Kokq_lRgc0ax_drFt_4l7SZoFj8cm6dyow1fwPcJOu5LZS_sJE0eVHiPivkeReBZdJT2GEd-ZnqrPmYYXzTMwS_digAEowwwhqzAPSVcqxVuHU/s320/Screen+shot+2012-06-13+at+12.19.40+AM.png" width="320" /> </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHd2DMUO1YXe8sFTDs2fku27tptUURrjhfkjNRC6_Hx3VGWPkzVqb3NAl9HWCDtTfL5sK8rqsxYiKrFSVoMLe4ymMbX80KxKILQ6spfwMMy-UxxMuxsnYrsnlNmPRxHgJcZAs_ZYU5mKc/s320/DSC_0002.JPG" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">as close as I can get to an aerial view of the yard to show how the overall plan is coming along</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So there it is for now. It was long past its due date, but I'm proud of it like it's a new baby or something. But this time of year, everyone's inviting each other over to come check out their gardens. It's what we do. Hope you enjoyed the virtual tour. Come over whenever you want and I'll hand you a shovel as I expound upon this brief history! Holler down the street or send me a link and I'll come check out your garden, too! </div>
keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-23605943434367329362012-05-24T16:13:00.001-04:002012-09-08T21:58:12.404-04:00you know what's sexy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu99cIYtj1Q5K_WzNsvCnt-VZIuC0OhlO_Wv7U-N45ZZWEdLLVSZi08gS1V1U8h9EuXTjsOaEwzasPYslv_Gj9IjFqorlrpX_eF3qVvbU_ukW8em6MAydOUW7hE-TulTkexQUneS8qChU/s1600/July+2008+154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
There is no deep thought in this post. Now that we're all freed from that burden....<br />
<br />
Last night, I responded to a last-minute invitation to join some friends at a bar*. I excitedly jumped at the chance for some girl time.<br />
<br />
I had been working in my yard ALL DAY LONG. Staining the fence, digging up plants, etc. etc. I looked like a mess and only left myself about 5 minutes to be presentable enough to leave my yard. I came in the house and put on some green pants from when I worked in a group home, a black polo-style shirt I got to hide my post-partum belly, and the black sandals I just wore hiking. I never feel like I can quite shake a frumpy mom shadow these days. Whatever. I threw my hair up into two "messes," which accentuated the "not out to look impressive" look in my mind. I'm fine with that. I like to go out like that on purpose sometimes. (I'm not sure it counts as not taking yourself too seriously if you have to think about it this much, but I try, anyway.)<br />
<br />
I go to leave and Pat says, "Some guy is going to hit on you looking like that."<br />
"No one's going to hit on me, Pat."<br />
He shrugs in disbelief. I add:<br />
"This is not the bar to go to if you want people to be hitting on each other." It hovers nicely beyond the college scene without going into the old perpetually drunk scene. I tell him the only interactions I have with guys there is annoying my friend's husband, who works there and is often our server. (Maybe he's not annoyed. I don't know. But I think servers must get annoyed with the girl who comes in only for a root beer or a cheap appetizer. Sorry, bar-tending world.) Knowing I'm totally right about the crowd that would be there, I head out the door. <br />
<br />
When I return home, I proudly announce that no one hit on me. See? As mom's night out looking as it gets! <br />
Then I remembered and had to admit: "Well, some dude made a call at me and [my sexy friend] well after he had passed us walking to our cars." Then I remembered another fact that needed to come to bear on the situation. "But, come to think of it, I also got hollered at while I was planting flowers yesterday." (I look SO messy like that and I'm not being humble.) "And I used to get hit on a lot more when I was pregnant. Come to think of it, most of the time when I get hit on, it's at times like that! It's not when I'm dressed up or looking nice. Why is that?" I ask my husband these things because he's a guy. He would know. <br />
<br />
(Here I'll include a quickly-assembled collection of photos I'm calling my "If you want to get hit on....". I'm doing this for educational purposes, but also because people like to post pictures of themselves in sexy poses online. Sorry these are uncensored. I didn't know which parts to bleep out.)<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrA6g5Q7T-uFq-kpgS-KVBY972m0OvsZMHXkj7AZ64QpJD3F1tU4FKiZteNMwLMksk_IdgGenZ096hF_eQiV1ZkhzvIy11VNd2G9RMIZCUO-_JJOudAoisJrvA0rpvmujgmADNMpjNQs/s1600/DSC_0113.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrA6g5Q7T-uFq-kpgS-KVBY972m0OvsZMHXkj7AZ64QpJD3F1tU4FKiZteNMwLMksk_IdgGenZ096hF_eQiV1ZkhzvIy11VNd2G9RMIZCUO-_JJOudAoisJrvA0rpvmujgmADNMpjNQs/s200/DSC_0113.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do
something really disgusting. There were no males around as I scraped
unidentified goo off this bathroom floor, but I'm sure it was safer that
way.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu99cIYtj1Q5K_WzNsvCnt-VZIuC0OhlO_Wv7U-N45ZZWEdLLVSZi08gS1V1U8h9EuXTjsOaEwzasPYslv_Gj9IjFqorlrpX_eF3qVvbU_ukW8em6MAydOUW7hE-TulTkexQUneS8qChU/s200/July+2008+154.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wear your hair up in messes and have a young child with you. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
[ TOTALLY CENSORED ]<br />
<br />
Okay, I actually just couldn't find a picture of me pregnant and pushing a stroller. <br />
I didn't know at the time how incredibly hot it was. <br />
Such sexyness is probably too much for a family-friendly blog, anyway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2DebLw1KJc0jLYSuKEdV7FUCi-ExPXHtYDMA7W3Ck-zQG9edNOJ719kDYcmNMa0tOxZrk0Lz2SLHhTyvLmVzKZkgxnWiMrDxpV9UJHwKRClDJ_c2W4hSnITwAFoxGvdn95aHe0mIFxE/s320/DSC_0076.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wear a t-shirt you got in 8th grade that is totally worn and covered in paint.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitPuxD-wg55ZwZBrNDs8YA2qP8WhTKf8r_7ez5MV3nhyphenhyphen22gNc_jefLV3F-0HbVbMZUgPWi-YwDJBHqzMYqHChAA1eI27pePjFfn8sg0-JE_x15GAnxljoXzA_pocH5UZ4sdWvVe1vr8no/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitPuxD-wg55ZwZBrNDs8YA2qP8WhTKf8r_7ez5MV3nhyphenhyphen22gNc_jefLV3F-0HbVbMZUgPWi-YwDJBHqzMYqHChAA1eI27pePjFfn8sg0-JE_x15GAnxljoXzA_pocH5UZ4sdWvVe1vr8no/s200/DSC_0028.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forget makeup. Opt for construction mess. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSSxQ9tWieOXMr4h12BmBNhIeOlJd99ReVIcAWSKJpK8cgKpGqQFWdvvuwUZvQfJxXIFKMnivYwB4LgUaxJnHJr9tN_RrBE6j6U3W6Q3lrFjL-zJCQJLfo2R2HeerI0FtATqF0-GgMyI/s1600/DSC_0027.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSSxQ9tWieOXMr4h12BmBNhIeOlJd99ReVIcAWSKJpK8cgKpGqQFWdvvuwUZvQfJxXIFKMnivYwB4LgUaxJnHJr9tN_RrBE6j6U3W6Q3lrFjL-zJCQJLfo2R2HeerI0FtATqF0-GgMyI/s320/DSC_0027.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? I went home with this guy. :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We threw around some ideas that would explain this phenomenon. I know I am not the only one who has noticed. Other friends would testify that they get hit on more when mowing their yards or pushing a stroller or whatever. Pat concluded the discussion by saying, "I think the only qualification for a guy to think a woman's sexy is that she is a woman." <br />
<br />
Is he right, world? Is he right? What gives?<br />
<br />
<br />
-----<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu99cIYtj1Q5K_WzNsvCnt-VZIuC0OhlO_Wv7U-N45ZZWEdLLVSZi08gS1V1U8h9EuXTjsOaEwzasPYslv_Gj9IjFqorlrpX_eF3qVvbU_ukW8em6MAydOUW7hE-TulTkexQUneS8qChU/s1600/July+2008+154.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
*It goes without saying that, even though I don't like beer, I think
it's SO much cooler to go hang out at a bar with my friends than to go
all get our nails done or something. It also goes without saying that we
don't get drunk or go there to party hard or anything, so no one's mom
needs to worry about us. <br />
<br />keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-45360840906071349212012-04-17T15:22:00.005-04:002012-04-17T15:56:00.098-04:00heart mending<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-u__FoFOTuycoB79wEPQhWPT2SAhgcsMHAzsyJhPIPh8Lwkgg8m7CXbFabnXosgECPxtZUlkiZxjd-ONwImxsxC5blCTd-cvCu5owXos5slTc_-J6x2FLjKSvUtXtDKxJjeiqCtfrjYw/s1600/DSC_0205.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-u__FoFOTuycoB79wEPQhWPT2SAhgcsMHAzsyJhPIPh8Lwkgg8m7CXbFabnXosgECPxtZUlkiZxjd-ONwImxsxC5blCTd-cvCu5owXos5slTc_-J6x2FLjKSvUtXtDKxJjeiqCtfrjYw/s320/DSC_0205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732454361432260546" border="0" /></a><br />This is my friend, Andrea. You may remember Andrea of Abigail fame from about <a href="http://growingmccrorys.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-of-our-kids.html">this time last year</a>. Last year, we were raising money for Abigail to have a tumor removed from her leg. The good news is that today, Abigail's check-up revealed a "normal 3-year-old." This is news worth celebrating!<br /><br />Unfortunately, this wonderfully uneventful visit to the doctor is under the shadow of her sister's extended hospital stay.<br /><br />This is Shilo, Abigail's sister. She is five months old. All told, I think she has spent something like three of those months in the hospital, mostly in some form of an ICU. This particular stay has lasted since February, brought on by a typical-in-other-people virus. But Shilo is little. And she has a heart defect. The virus required her to go on all kinds of equipment, including a ventilator. After quite a while, it became evident she would not be able to get off the ventilator without undergoing open heart surgery. The surgery was expected...a little on down the road, perhaps, but expected. As it is, though, things keep happening that destabilize Shilo just enough to where they cannot go through with the surgery. The surgery should alleviate all kinds of health issues, so as scary as open heart surgery on an infant sounds, it is welcome. All Shilo needs for the surgery is some stable days in a row -- days free of fevers, with clear lungs. Those have been hard to come by lately.<br /><br />Could you join us in praying for Shilo and her family? They have been separated from each other for most of the last 8 weeks. That is a long time, and a great percentage of Shilo's life and Abigail's recent memory. Or anyone's recent memory. Even if the surgery goes through quickly, there will be at least a few more weeks apart before Shilo and Abigail can be together in the same house with both of their parents at the same time. Until then, the scene is Andrea and Shilo sitting in a small room full of medical equipment all day without snuggling each other while Jason is at work and Abigail stays with various friends. Therefore, prayers for "in the meantime" are greatly appreciated as well. I'm not going to say that this is a super-family or anything, because I know Andrea would hate that. But their normal days require more stamina than most of our normal days. We trust God's grace can cover us all and each of them even as the answers we wait for are slow in coming. Please join us in entrusting each of them to the care of their Father and asking that He would speedily mend Shilo's heart...and everyone else's.keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127365972035285021.post-39290589610244139332012-04-13T21:12:00.004-04:002012-04-13T22:20:34.880-04:00Good<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigivblFKubRCG6qYgDmlPanaAsg6GGh-ydRy-6y6STFQreW6GwmZHDO4K40MAQZruSHM5h9-IzxnDH1dUWbXrL-4jI-MQ4hkwPgnPttZwoy9s53CpM0Nc1a6U-Vn-bFw6KIXegVD95wkI/s1600/DSC_0146.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigivblFKubRCG6qYgDmlPanaAsg6GGh-ydRy-6y6STFQreW6GwmZHDO4K40MAQZruSHM5h9-IzxnDH1dUWbXrL-4jI-MQ4hkwPgnPttZwoy9s53CpM0Nc1a6U-Vn-bFw6KIXegVD95wkI/s200/DSC_0146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731075558724336002" border="0" /></a><br />Earlier I posted snapshots of things that are good about the yard next door. Here are some "snapshots" of things that are good about my kids. These "pictures" were taken today. :)<br /><br />---<br /><br />First thing this morning, Israel lets us know he figured out to pray for Jesus not to let Satan in anyone's hearts. Two days before, he showed up inches from my face to wake me up: "Mom, I asked Jesus and he got rid of all my sin. I'm not going to sin anymore!" Tonight, it was praying for Jesus to heal everyone who was sick: very sick, not very sick, and in car accidents. He will be so happy for Jesus's second coming. I hope it's not too rough for him in this in-between time.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Before we could eat breakfast this morning, the kids had to go have blood drawn. (Nothing alarming, just checking cholesterol, since high cholesterol runs in the family.) Israel was frantically trying to talk us out of it: "I'm growing good!" He responded quite like I expect most kids respond, though he calmed down just in time for the needle, a point on which I congratulated him. But not Eden. Eden was happy! Last time she had a doctor's appointment, she stated that getting the flu shot had "made her happy." She liked it! I thought surely such parenting bliss would be short-lived. But, no!<br />"They're going to take blood out of you and give you a shot. Do you want to climb in the chair by yourself?"<br />"Yes!" She climbed up and plopped both her arms out in the right place, veins up, like she had done this a million times. (It was her first time for a blood draw like this.) She didn't say anything else.<br />"Okay." The two nurses (I guess they routinely call for back-up with small children) looked at each other, astonished. I just laughed. "They're going to give you your shot now and we'll see your blood. Do you think it's polka-dotted?"<br />"No."<br />"Striped?"<br />"No."<br />"Well, we'll see." I sat by her to prop her up and make her tall enough to do this on her own. She watched them stick the needle in and watched the vile fill up. "What color is it?" I asked.<br />"Pink!" She said, still watching. She did the whole thing without wincing once, hopped down, and said she liked it...again.<br /><br />---<br /><br />We went to exchange a duplicate birthday present this morning, too. I told Eden she could choose what she wanted to get. In addition to wanting pretty much every greatest-thing-ever they had, she wanted to use some of the money to get a particular airplane for Israel. I let her, admiring her generosity. When we got to the check-out, the total was a few cents over the money we had from the exchange, so I told Israel to give the clerk his quarter. (A nice old stranger had given each of the kids a quarter at the grocery store earlier, which was also pretty cool.) In return, he got two dimes. He was pretty amazed at the apparent 2-for-1 deal. "I'm going to save these for college!" he said.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Tonight at dinner, the kids both ate really well. Israel asked for one of the two "extra" corn muffins. Pat checked with me. I said I would like to have one of them later. He gave Israel the other.<br />After dinner, I half-heard Eden say something about wanting another corn muffin, too. I mostly disregarded her, because she never asks for seconds and she wasn't actually talking to any of us, anyway. She went in the kitchen, brought out the last muffin, and put it in front of me. "You can have it," she said.<br />"Don't you want a muffin?" I asked.<br />"You can eat it," she said, pointing to it again.<br />"But don't you want some?"<br />"We can all have some of it!"<br />She and I shared the muffin. I can't believe that she was willing to give me all of it when she wanted some, too!<br /><br />---<br /><br />I love seeing the generous side of my daughter. I love the thoughtful side of my son. I love watching them learn how to interact with the world and with faith. I love when they succeed. Just like me, they often don't, but we celebrate when these things happen.keep growinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13108828624180772190noreply@blogger.com0