tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25060066713367455392024-03-05T21:25:05.865-08:00Spiritually SingleAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-89286084503426269012017-06-17T20:15:00.001-07:002017-06-17T20:15:14.938-07:00Father to the Fatherless<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHHuTznoh_s4Yg-M2RcYe-CyaVOZLygNjEHKXt1eh9QXUS2X5l43At8i58ZPcuUfR-iJDBCrQefW8_v8QKuwHJcBYAsJJGxpMricqj_GkMdITNbIvOBpD9CmnRz1W2P7xNarc8pun3xU/s1600/SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHHuTznoh_s4Yg-M2RcYe-CyaVOZLygNjEHKXt1eh9QXUS2X5l43At8i58ZPcuUfR-iJDBCrQefW8_v8QKuwHJcBYAsJJGxpMricqj_GkMdITNbIvOBpD9CmnRz1W2P7xNarc8pun3xU/s320/SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My love,</div>
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It was a strange feeling to stand in front of hundreds of Father's Day cards knowing I would not be purchasing one for you. My eyes scanned over the various sections of cards: dad, grandfather, son, son-in-law, husband. At knee level were brightly colored cards, some decorated with childlike drawings, others with the word "Daddy" along the border. I ran my fingers across the top of those cards. I imagined the kids that would fill this area as they excitedly choose a card for their daddy. If they are anything like ours were, they would pick the biggest, brightest card without even glancing at the words.</div>
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As our kids matured, they no longer asked for my help when choosing your Father's Day card. Each card was still bright, still youthful, but the words written held meaning to each of them. </div>
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I felt a smile sneak onto my face as I recalled card shopping with our children. What was once a noisy, giggle-filled experience was now silent as I stood alone in front of this sea of cards. I carefully selected a card for my Dad, as well as a card for your Grandpa, and I left the store with my small purchase.</div>
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I learned something for the first time about this special day. Father's Day was founded in 1910 by a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd. She wasn't looking to create a holiday that would generate the small fortune that we now spend in greeting cards, there was a significant purpose to her desire to establish this day of honor.</div>
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When Sonora was 16 years old, her mother passed away during childbirth. Her father became a widower, left to care for 6 children (including Sonora).</div>
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A widower.</div>
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The foundation of this day was laid upon the heart of a young woman because of her widowed father. She appreciated her father and his sacrifices to raise 6 children on his own, and she felt strongly that fathers should be recognized as well, which is the reason she petitioned for what we now know as Father's Day.</div>
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<i><b>A day that is set aside to honor the fathers in our lives began with the broken heart of a man and his children.</b></i> </div>
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My sweet husband, like Sonora, we recognize and deeply appreciate all that you did, and continue to do even in your heavenly presence, for our family. </div>
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I've heard from some that now I must assume the roles of both mother <u>and</u> father. </div>
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But the truth is...I won't.</div>
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I will never be able to fill the role of your place in the lives of our children.</div>
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And I wouldn't dare try. </div>
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My guardianship has heightened and my awareness of their emotional needs has taken on new life, but I will never be you.</div>
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I will never assume your role. Because the truth is, that's not what they need.</div>
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They need me to be their mother. The mother they've known and trusted all along.</div>
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The mother who will guide them as best as I can.</div>
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I promise that I will give them the best of me (even if my best occasionally looks like a monkey caught in a hamster wheel). </div>
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I promise to live in a way that brings honor to your name.</div>
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I promise to be our son's biggest cheerleader and our daughter's biggest fan.</div>
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I promise to make sure your name is forever spoken with respect, love, and admiration.</div>
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My love, I promise never to feel as though I have to make up for your absence.</div>
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I promise never to make myself believe that my worth as a mother is not valuable without a father.</div>
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Because the truth is, our children will never be without a Father. </div>
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Each day that I am given, I will entrust the lives of our children into the hands of the Father you now endlessly praise. </div>
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Your own legacy lives beautifully within each of them, while the love of our living God will continuously encompass them.</div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">"A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling." - </i><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm+68%3A5&version=NIV" target="_blank">Psalm 68:5</a></span></div>
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It's a promise from God that the three of us will never be alone.</div>
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It's a reminder that I am expected to be only one thing to our children: their mother.</div>
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It's an assertion that I do not have to fill the role of a physical father.</div>
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It's a pledge from God that the three of us are under the protection of His love and the promise of His grace. Therefore, I can focus on being who I was designed to be for our children.</div>
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My love, on this first Father's Day without you, my heart is heavy with your absence, though my soul is light with God's promise.</div>
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I am grateful beyond words that you are the father of our children. Each day I see your characteristics sprinkled in the mix of their personalities and mannerisms, and my heart instantly swells with bittersweet joy. </div>
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Your sacrificial heart, while beating and while still, has forever impacted mine. I will never stop living for you and dreaming with you. You are ever-present in our home and your legacy will continue to be what leads our family.</div>
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Happy Father's Day, my love. Our time with you was short, but your love for us is eternal, and that is the best gift a father could ever give.</div>
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My heart,</div>
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Your wife</div>
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PS: Give the big guy a hug for me. :)</div>
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The idea of Father's Day came to Sonora Smart Dodd while she was attending a church service, and this day was given life as a result of a widower's heartache and hardship. God moves powerfully in ways that will surprise even the strongest of believers. How incredible that he turned tragedy into encouragement for fathers across the nation for decades upon decades!</div>
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<b>Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there</b>!</div>
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And to all the single or widowed mamas - isn't is remarkable to know our children have a Father protecting and leading them alongside each of us?! My heart is with you and your children today!</div>
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xoxo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-24742506009413927822017-02-14T00:33:00.001-08:002017-02-14T00:33:18.196-08:00Love, God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3kkdAwXbbvAHKpEhz_sHgk3uFNvpjvaolMvG8OK_0f9lVW5ULiLih7wMmtAcuhJvyTMfiMP3iPIvJBsPsQwvunxF8U9J4k3IIDQFsxwBOcFpR8xQoa8XFcdTDTbNiZYjaB-bA19Viy4/s1600/love-autumn-tree_759_thinkstockphotos-177812216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3kkdAwXbbvAHKpEhz_sHgk3uFNvpjvaolMvG8OK_0f9lVW5ULiLih7wMmtAcuhJvyTMfiMP3iPIvJBsPsQwvunxF8U9J4k3IIDQFsxwBOcFpR8xQoa8XFcdTDTbNiZYjaB-bA19Viy4/s320/love-autumn-tree_759_thinkstockphotos-177812216.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Dear Valentine,</div>
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<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+56%3A8&version=NLT" target="_blank">I can see when your heart is aching</a>. I know when you are longing for something. There are days when you are filled with joy, and there are days when you are feeling despair. I dance with you on the days when your heart is light. I cradle you on the days when you lose hope.</div>
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I am here for you, always.</div>
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<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+8%3A38-39&version=NIV" target="_blank">Nothing can ever separate us</a>. I will never leave you. I know you have been hurt in the past. I know you have been betrayed. I know it is sometimes difficult for you to trust that I am here. </div>
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But I promise, here is where I will always be. For you. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+28%3A20&version=NIV" target="_blank">Forever</a>.</div>
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I love you more than I could ever hope to tell you. When I look at you, I see the flawlessness of your beauty and the beauty of your character. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+1%3A27&version=NIV" target="_blank">You are exactly as I imagined you to be</a>. I smile as I watch you go about your day. I am so proud to call you mine. </div>
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I created you because I wanted you. For so long <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts+17%3A27&version=TLB" target="_blank">I hoped that you would want Me, too</a>. Within your soul you carry my hopes and my dreams for you. I want you to have the best of everything because I love you more than anything. </div>
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You are everything I've ever wanted. </div>
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You are beautiful.</div>
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You are flawless in my eyes.</div>
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I talk about you to the angels.</div>
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I rejoice when I hear you call on Me.</div>
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In YOU I find hope. In YOU I see love.</div>
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In YOU I see ME.</div>
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You will forever be My favorite Valentine. </div>
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I love you.</div>
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Love,</div>
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God</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-27844496179641843052017-01-16T00:22:00.000-08:002017-01-17T11:37:45.135-08:00Are You His Refuge?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As a child, when you heard thunder, what did you do? Did you run to someone? Did you hide? Did you close all the blinds? Did you turn up the television? Where was your safe place during the storm?</div>
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Imagine a time in your life when you were the most scared.</div>
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Imagine the comfort you received.</div>
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The reassurance you were given.</div>
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Imagine the way it felt to feel your worries escape your thoughts.</div>
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The weight you felt being lifted from your heart.</div>
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Now, imagine that scary time again.</div>
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And this time, imagine being without a safe place to go. </div>
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Many years ago my husband was diagnosed with anxiety. He opted not to treat his diagnosis with medication, and he didn't seek further therapy. We just went on with life knowing that this "thing" was there. I didn't take the time to learn anything about it, I just assumed he would figure it out and that would be the end of it. He was going to be a fireman, and after all, they're the toughest guys out there, right?</div>
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During the fire academy there are many intense drills and scenarios that these guys have to face. I will never forget the day my husband called me on his way home, in tears, because he was so scared. They were preparing to do a confined space drill, which was a drill that scared him the most. And he couldn't do it. I didn't know how to help him. I didn't know what to say. I can't remember exactly what was said, but I can promise you this: it wasn't reassuring. I was at home raising a toddler and an infant while working full time and he was living in another city while going through this academy. I felt that I didn't have time for his fears, I had enough going on at home. </div>
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My husband called me during his storm. And I proved to him that I was not a safe place.</div>
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A few years ago I received a call from my husband's Captain; they were taking him to the local emergency room because he was having heart palpitations. Once it was determined that my husband was indeed in good health, he was discharged from the hospital and sent home. My husband called me on his drive home; he was silent, almost afraid to talk. I asked him the typical questions, "what happened?" And when he couldn't answer me, I grew frustrated. "What do you mean you don't know? Something had to happen. Something had to have made you feel this way. Do you have any [confined space] drills coming up? Are you freaked out?"</div>
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Again, he called me during his storm. And I proved to him that I was not a safe place.</div>
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When he walked in the door that day, I could see it in his face. I could see his defeat. I could see his fear. I could see his worry. </div>
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From that day, I vowed to be his safe place.</div>
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But I didn't know how to get there. I knew in my heart that I wanted to become his place of security, but I knew that he couldn't trust that I would be safe.</div>
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It took a long time and a lot of effort from me before my husband realized that I was, indeed, safe.</div>
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I remember the first time I saw him trust me.</div>
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He had come home from working at his mom's house all day long; when he got home, he saw that our lawns needed to be mowed, a sprinkler in the front of the house was shooting up like a fountain, and his dinner was on a plate in the microwave because he didn't make it back in time to eat with us.</div>
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He was pacing around the backyard and I stood in the kitchen watching him through the window. He finally stopped, so I walked out to him and just put my hand on his back. He started to pull away from me, but instead he stayed there and just turned his head in the opposite direction of me. I tried to look at him, and with just the right light from the moon, I could see that he had been crying. </div>
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He was overwhelmed. He was lost. He didn't know what to do next.</div>
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I grabbed his hand and just stood there.</div>
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I didn't say a word.</div>
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I just held his hand in mine.</div>
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And then....he opened up. His words came pouring out. I remember wrapping my arms around him, burying myself into his chest, and the only words I said were, "I love you so much."</div>
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That opened up the door for my husband. He knew from that moment on that I was safe.</div>
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For those that have been following my blog for a while, or who have known us personally, you know that our marriage most definitely had its highest of highs and its lowest of lows. I caused my husband a lot of pain with my deceit about finances, and he caused a lot of pain with the need to numb his emotions with alcohol. The both of us lost trust in each other and neither of us would call each other "safe." And for a long time, neither of us cared to be each other's safe place.</div>
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For years I prayed that God would change my husband. Don't we all do that? "God, please just change this about him..." I didn't dare pray for me to change because I didn't want that challenge. But God is amazing like that - I didn't have to pray for me to change because He was already working on it. And apparently I'm a slower learner. </div>
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In my <a href="https://marriedbutspirituallysingle.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-moved-storm.html">blog post</a> last year (<a href="https://marriedbutspirituallysingle.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-moved-storm.html">I Moved a Storm</a>) I shared about my daughter's anxiety attacks that we had been facing for months. As a mother, I did everything to learn more about how to help my daughter. I begged for advice, I purchased books, I paid for therapy, I prayed and prayed and prayed. I would do anything to be the safe place for my daughter. </div>
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And then one day I caught myself in the midst of my frantic research: why didn't I ever do that for my husband? I started paying attention to his habits: each morning that he was home and having to go to work, he woke in the middle of the night with a stomachache. I always knew this about him, but never questioned it; I didn't realize he was feeling anxious. He was a restless sleeper, always wanting to cuddle up to me in the middle of the night, and I'm not a snuggler...especially when I sleep. </div>
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One restless night he, again, woke me up by laying his weight on a majority of my body. Normally, I would turn away from him and force him to hug my back. This time, I turned my body towards him, wrapped my arms around him, and just held him. I felt his body relax and soon afterwards, his breathing became heavy as he fell back to sleep.</div>
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"Oh my gosh, all those years and this was all he needed?" I felt so guilty. </div>
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I finally got it right.</div>
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And for all the days of my life, I will never forget what he said to me 4 months before he died...</div>
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We were having dinner at his mom's house, I was watching him dance to country music with our daughter when he broke away from his dance and walked over to me. From behind, he wrapped his strong arms around my waist, nuzzling his face into that spot between my neck and my shoulder, and he said, "I love you more now than I ever have before." </div>
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I will never forget that. </div>
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I did it. I earned his trust. I had successfully become his safe place.</div>
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We used to joke that after years of being married, we "finally got it right."</div>
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So, how do you do it? How do you become the "safe place" when, if we're being honest, you don't want to?</div>
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You love him. And you love the beast in him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqltjmNoZRdhPKIjPnhVDAcNHW63dPZ9_nlMkwBk9TjebnO2E7t29mC_VicsuNvyiBn7kXBqLK1Ew9MifO2v1CjeR8tB-Ac4CwQM_nLcV3i9yEDYJhac_ocdBnW72Lw8y-s_RydYlS2Y/s1600/this_one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqltjmNoZRdhPKIjPnhVDAcNHW63dPZ9_nlMkwBk9TjebnO2E7t29mC_VicsuNvyiBn7kXBqLK1Ew9MifO2v1CjeR8tB-Ac4CwQM_nLcV3i9yEDYJhac_ocdBnW72Lw8y-s_RydYlS2Y/s320/this_one.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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I had somehow stumbled upon this image years ago when I was most definitely not acting as my husband's safe place. I saved this image to my phone and I stared at it...often. This spoke so loudly to me despite the fact that there were no words.</div>
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This was the effect I wanted to have on my husband. I wanted to melt away the monster.</div>
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<b><u>Be Quiet</u></b></div>
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Easier said than done, right? Each man is different. Each man has different needs. But each man wants to be heard. He had a bad day at work? He's stressed about paying the bills? He can't stand his coworkers? He hates the commute? His brother's best friend's uncle's neighbor upset him? The dog sheds too much? </div>
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Just listen. </div>
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"<i>To answer before listening - that is folly and shame.</i>" (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=proverbs+18%3A13&version=NIV">Proverbs 18:13</a> - NIV)</div>
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<b>OR</b> in other words:</div>
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"<i>Answering before listening is both stupid and rude.</i>" (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=proverbs+18%3A13&version=MSG">Proverbs 18:13</a> - The Message Translation)</div>
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I'm a big talker. And I love to offer solutions before even hearing the problem. Ugh. It took a lot of lessons for me to learn what God so clearly lays out. </div>
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Go back to the illustration above. She's not talking. She's not offering solutions. She's silently loving him. Let him talk. Let him speak. Let him know that you are not always going to rebuttal his words, and you are not always going to give a solution. Sometimes, they just want to be heard, and they want a safe place to lay those words.</div>
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<b><u>LOVE Him</u></b></div>
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We all have bad days. We all have those days when we just want to tear out the eyes of the stuffed animal on the bed because it looks too smug. (Oh, is that just me?)</div>
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And we all want to be loved during those bad days. </div>
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I often think about the unconditional love that I get from God on a daily (hourly, really) basis. He doesn't stop showing love to me because I want to rip apart that stuffed bear. In fact, He loves me even more. When I think about the number of times God has shown love and grace to me, I feel bad for the guy.</div>
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You can't give love without offering grace. </div>
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And you can't offer grace without giving love.</div>
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And God has given so much of both to me.</div>
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"<i>You don't understand, my husband can be so difficult to love</i>."</div>
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Oh, but I do understand. </div>
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Everyone has a husband who can be difficult to love.</div>
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And every husband has a wife who can be difficult to love.</div>
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(And let's be honest, if you have teenagers, even they can be difficult to love)</div>
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Think about when you were a child and you got hurt. What did you want? You were crying out in pain (equivalent to a bad attitude at the end of the day) and you needed to be comforted. What if your parent or grandparent saw you in pain, looked at you and walked away because they were angry with you for being disobedient the day before?</div>
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Is that what you do to your husband? Do you deny love and reassurance because he said something hurtful the day before?</div>
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Showing love to your spouse during their most difficult days begins to open the door of trust. The best way to show him love? Kindness. Don't mistake kindness with subservience. It takes great strength to be kind to someone who may not reciprocate. We all know the saying, "kill them with kindness." Just be kind. Watch what happens. Kindness can melt the hardest of hearts.</div>
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<b><u>Be Patient...and PRAY</u></b></div>
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It pains me to know that for so many years I missed the cues of my husband's needs. He was not a perfect husband and I was certainly far from a perfect wife. But once we figured it out, it was better than anything we imagined. </div>
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What fills your prayers? The hope that your husband will be the one to change? Think again. That's not where God is going to put His focus. He needs to make sure your heart is ready for your husband's insecurities. God himself wants to make sure that you can be trusted with your husband's heart. So guess who He is going to be focusing on...you. Me. </div>
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I used to pray for God to change the heart of my husband. And then one of my closest friends told me to switch up my prayers. "Pray for him to feel God's love for him. Pray that he will know how much God loves him." So, I started praying for that...and guess who was the one God planned to use in that prayer request? Yep, me.</div>
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We can't change our guys. We can only focus on ourselves. There will be days when you throw your hands up in the air and say, "what the heck, God? I'm loving my husband like you told me to, why is it still so rough??" Because it doesn't happen overnight. It requires patience and complete reliance on God. My husband didn't change overnight. My husband changed when I did...he softened when I did. </div>
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There were many times when I tried to show my husband that I was safe. And there were many times that he was leery. There were several times that my efforts went unnoticed, and there were several moments when I wanted to quit. </div>
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But that night in my backyard, I saw the walls come down, and suddenly I lost count of the months I spent trying because all that mattered in that moment was that I succeeded.</div>
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Don't give up on your guy. Be patient. Like anything, you have to earn his trust. A man is not typically wired to expose his fears, his worries or his insecurities. Over time he will see that you are safe. Be patient. God is planning to use YOU to answer your prayers.</div>
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_________________</div>
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Hindsight is always the best sight, and in so many ways I wish I could go back to my newlywed self and teach myself how to be the safe place for my husband. Almost 16 years of marriage that included babies, separation, many arguments, hopelessness, and frustration. But when we "finally got it right," it was worth all those lessons we learned in years prior.</div>
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Love the monster out of your man, let him melt into your heart. Be that place of refuge for him. The place where he can safely lay his words, where he can comfortably expose his fears, and where he will run during the storm.</div>
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There was a night when my husband said to me, "I feel the safest when I am with you..."</div>
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Words that will forever stay with me. Words I never thought I'd hear. Words that were worth the days and nights of perseverance and prayer.</div>
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The work starts with <u>you</u>.</div>
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Be quiet.</div>
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Listen.</div>
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Love.</div>
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Be patient.</div>
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Pray.</div>
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After all, every beauty loves the beast who desperately just wants to be a man.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-23113235626112278402017-01-02T23:56:00.001-08:002017-01-06T22:10:10.889-08:00From the bottom of my heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN_exH_uxRANuOw23STXimS0HLzxff_dgGLRDyWzXJl51pMUBt9LsFbbk2Pz2n1UVQ-hcxHNyR0jmtqTF69669kPnyv84V9LlDF9mPTsaecbefutXebVGiaB65-SNog3mLDshdqib5kQ/s1600/SS_TY01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN_exH_uxRANuOw23STXimS0HLzxff_dgGLRDyWzXJl51pMUBt9LsFbbk2Pz2n1UVQ-hcxHNyR0jmtqTF69669kPnyv84V9LlDF9mPTsaecbefutXebVGiaB65-SNog3mLDshdqib5kQ/s320/SS_TY01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">[The day of my husband's funeral]</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the second day into the new year, and tonight I fed my children a meal that was placed in my freezer at some point within the last 3 months. I have not been to the market in almost 15 weeks. Paper goods magically appeared and have seemed to reproduce in my house. The most I have done for my children has been to buy the occasional gallon of milk, replace my son's deodorant, and make sure they have clean underwear (and even that's been iffy). </span><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"> </span></div>
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Meals have been brought to my mother-in-law, food has been dropped off to my parents, gifts have been left on my porch and delivered to my husband's station. Countless emails and messages have been received, along with phone calls, voicemails, and text messages.</div>
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Tonight as I placed a prepared meal into my oven, I was completely overwhelmed with the realization of just how much my family has been loved, prayed for, and served. It's been over 3 months and I still have meals to feed my children. I have bundles of gift cards to markets and restaurants. YOU are feeding my family. </div>
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Not only has my family been served physically with meals, gifts, and more recently the helpful put-up and tear down of Christmas, but the absolutely mind blowing generosity of so many from all over the country has honestly moved me to tears.</div>
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For the last 3 months, my children and I have literally been living off of the generous hearts of so many. I bet you didn't know that. I am willing to bet that you did not realize that each donation that has been made has truly been helping my family. From the mortgage, to counseling, to those gallons of milk, I truly don't know where we would've been without your generosity.</div>
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The community of which my husband served, the community in which we live, and the town of which he was serving at the time of his death, each held fundraiser after fundraiser to help our little family as a way to honor my husband. Repeatedly I would say, "I can't believe it. I can't believe how nice people are being to us."</div>
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Family, friends, and strangers have sent cards, homemade gifts, plaques, statues, patches, pictures, and stories. I have kept <u>every single</u> thing that has been sent to me, whether directly to my home or to the department's headquarters, I have held onto and cherished all of it. I have bundles of drawings from children, and invitations to Hero Days at schools that aren't even in my hometown. I have notes from Girl Scout troops, prayer cards from churches, and letters from dignitaries (even the President). </div>
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You will never know what you have done for my heart. You have supported me with your words, lifted me up with your kindness, and carried me with your love.</div>
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There were many, many nights I spent sitting at my kitchen table poring through hundreds of letters that seemed to make their way to my hands every time my husband's Captain would come to my home. If I had the address of somebody who sent a card or a note to me, I was sending a thank you card.</div>
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I loved writing those cards because with each name I wrote, I smiled and thanked God for the love He was showing to me. Because here's the truth: your thoughtfulness, your generosity, your kindness, and your sacrifice were used to deliver God's message to me. </div>
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Five days after losing my husband, I begged God to stay close to me and to speak to me in a way in which I knew He was near.</div>
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And then came all of <u>you</u>.</div>
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You are an answered prayer.</div>
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Thank you for serving my family. Thank you for loving us, without even knowing us. Thank you for taking care of us while we try to find our "new normal." Thank you for being the example of what we should all strive to be.</div>
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YOU are the messengers of hope, love, encouragement, strength, and perseverance. </div>
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YOU turned God's love into something tangible, something real, and something that I can't ignore.</div>
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YOU are the light in my moments of darkness.</div>
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YOU will forever be imprinted on my heart.</div>
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"<b>Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart.</b>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=philippians+1%3A3-6&version=MSG">Philippians 1:3-4</a></div>
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Thank you, thank you, thank you.</div>
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From the bottom of my grateful heart.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">[One of the many nights filled with gratitude for you]</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-9454460036857963692016-12-30T12:32:00.000-08:002017-01-03T19:19:07.463-08:00Keep Running<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIENhTlTVD1r0vXlI_rF23EJrMkEPYC4C6QSgcFQx_STPq3FSj1XrTPDUsoKefnh4OgE5iAKyK1g6Cmj1H9sUPtqKIW4MIHOnUt7vp54tafAAyBDaSrfs-6m6GXrICYDNpdb1WrVMQO5s/s1600/635850284618249679447051697_runn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIENhTlTVD1r0vXlI_rF23EJrMkEPYC4C6QSgcFQx_STPq3FSj1XrTPDUsoKefnh4OgE5iAKyK1g6Cmj1H9sUPtqKIW4MIHOnUt7vp54tafAAyBDaSrfs-6m6GXrICYDNpdb1WrVMQO5s/s320/635850284618249679447051697_runn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I feel like every time I sign on to Facebook (because I'm a terrible news-watcher) I see bad news. Whether it's the death of someone famous, or the family member of a friend, a beloved pet, or just bad news, I am becoming apprehensive about looking beyond the four walls of my home.</div>
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I saw a Facebook post (I told you, I'm a terrible news-watcher) with a listing of all the "bad things" that happened in 2016. This entire article was based on the negative news that made headlines this past year. </div>
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Looking at this list of all the "bad things" that happened in 2016, I initially thought, "yeah! 2016 can take itself off a cliff!" I'm currently sitting in my bed, well beyond midnight, having just finished looking through hundreds of photos of my husband...again. I do this every night. I miss his ear-to-ear grin, his broad shoulders, and those strong arms that used to hold me.</div>
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The wonderful thing about looking through all these photos are the memories that come alive with each picture. One of two things can happen when I look at these photos:</div>
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1) I can look at these photos and smile with each memory.</div>
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2) I can look at these photos and curse the fact that it's just a memory.</div>
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Several years ago (I won't say how many), my girlfriends and I took a trip to New York. It was a first for the four of us...no husbands, no kids, nobody but four girls celebrating our 30th birthdays in a city that was new to each of us. We had the BEST time. And when I say the BEST time, I mean the. best. time. EVER. Four whole days of exploring an incredible city, eating the best food, and creating the most amazing memories (and did I mention no husbands and no kids?). The trip has made me ache to return to the Big Apple, but it has also made me hesitant because I know that the next time I visit New York it just won't be the same. How can anything be better than that trip?! I have spent so much time looking at those photos and reliving that trip in my mind; I know that I will never be able relive or redo that trip.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_UavjbcX2d33XqDrAT-s48kO7nekJ45cFWsUzSEMs3e4UHhKXX7IoaUuCTqgPp3Y5tCmGazuEkJwtIldSJfElLTfxZ8JF-0_Xul3PRAYFHHNtgdPCYG7MaTc4ecRvKf78KAHNc4pzLE/s1600/IMG_E4D00A1052B5-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_UavjbcX2d33XqDrAT-s48kO7nekJ45cFWsUzSEMs3e4UHhKXX7IoaUuCTqgPp3Y5tCmGazuEkJwtIldSJfElLTfxZ8JF-0_Xul3PRAYFHHNtgdPCYG7MaTc4ecRvKf78KAHNc4pzLE/s320/IMG_E4D00A1052B5-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most amazing trip EVER</td></tr>
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What if you saw me looking through those New York photos, scowling at each picture, and angrily closing the photo book because this trip was so amazing? What if you heard me say that I'm never going to go back to New York because I know it won't be the same experience? Would seem a little ridiculous, don't you think?</div>
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But how often do we do that when looking back? How often to we sit in anger or sorrow because we focus on what will never be the same rather than focusing on the incredible things that happened?</div>
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Here we are at the end of 2016. It seems to have been a tough year for many people. What are you choosing to reflect upon?</div>
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It's very easy for me to focus on the last 3 months of 2016. But if all I focus on is the void in my family, I will forget everything else that I witnessed and experienced this year. </div>
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I witnessed two incredible couples who struggled with fertility welcome two beautiful, healthy baby girls this year. I watched my daughter overcome her great struggle with anxiety. I witnessed the answering of <b>bold</b> and specific prayers I laid on God! I watched the dream between my cousin and I come to fruition with <a href="http://petuniadiaries.blogspot.com/">PetuniaDiaries.com</a>. I went on so many fun dates with my husband! We had an incredible week-long vacation at the beach! I watched an entire community come together to love and support my family! I saw kindness and compassion poured onto my family from people all over the country! </div>
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When I scroll through the thousands (yes, thousands) of photos from this past year, I choose to focus on the smiles. I choose to remember the laughter. I choose to view these memories as the gifts that God gave to me because He knew how my year would end. </div>
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My heart will never be the same. My life will never be the same. I will never be able to relive those memories or redo those moments. Like my trip to New York, nothing will ever compare. </div>
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So does that mean I'll never revisit New York? Does that mean I stay focused on the heartache living in my heart? Does that mean I shouldn't look forward?</div>
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It most certainly does not. </div>
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"... <i>But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.</i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+3%3A13-14&version=NIV" target="_blank">Philippians 3:13-14</a></div>
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Is Paul suggesting that I forget my beloved? Is he telling us to just forget those whom we love so dearly and disregard memories? Not at all! </div>
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Paul's focus was on the goal to complete the race for God, it was the only goal he kept at the forefront of his mind. Paul's past, his trials, and his difficulties were a part of him and, in my opinion, what made him great. </div>
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When Paul came to know God, he endured many heartbreaking trials - trials that would definitely test my own faith and cause me to wonder why I chose to follow God. Just a quick peek into some of Paul's suffering: repeated imprisonment, flogging, lashings, beaten with rods, stoned, shipwrecked, continual danger, weary and in pain, sleepless, hungry, thirsty, cold, and naked. (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+corinthians+11%3A23-28&version=NIV" target="_blank">2 Corinthians 11:23-28</a>) Not only those struggles, but Paul also struggled with a sinful nature, just like the rest of us (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=romans+7%3A15-25&version=NIV" target="_blank">Romans 7:15-25</a>).</div>
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With everything that Paul endured physically and emotionally, if he stopped for even a moment to focus on his past, he would lose sight of the goal: the crown of victory and the joys of heaven. How easily would it have been for Paul to look at what he has endured and say, "forget this. I'm done." But he didn't. He used those hardships and his past to push him towards the goal.</div>
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Our past shapes us into who we are meant to be. Paul doesn't want us to forget our past; he's not suggesting that we live as though nothing ever happened. But he doesn't want us to stay there. </div>
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Memories are a wonderful thing. I think God allows our hearts and minds to carry particular moments of time with us always. I love to look back on the memories made with my husband; I love to revisit those memories made in New York with my girlfriends. God wants us to have those memories. But He does not want us to live there.</div>
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When we stay focused on our trials, our heartache, and our sufferings, all we see are the things that cause us to stumble and fall. It's impossible to run towards the goal while continually looking behind.</div>
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Have you ever watched the Olympic runners during a race? They are focused. They are looking for that finish line. They have imaginary horse-blinders on and they don't dare lose focus on what's in front of them. One look to the left, and they will stumble. One look to the right, and they will lose focus. One glance behind them and they will fall. </div>
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2016 may have been a difficult year for you. You may feel the temptation to focus on all the hurtful things that took place. Don't look to the left of you. Don't look to the right of you. Don't look behind you. In the forefront of your mind look at the wonderful things that happened (I can promise there are good things that happened this year), and focus on the goal set before you. I'm not talking about resolutions (I never make those because I fail every time).</div>
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I'm talking about the goal God placed in your sight. The crown of victory. The promise of heaven. The gift of your salvation. </div>
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The hardships endured in 2016 are shaping you into the person God designed you to be.</div>
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You are an athlete for God! You are running the race! Keep your focus on the prize set before you!</div>
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Be like Paul - let the trials push you forward. Don't let the hardships hold you back. </div>
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You have cheerleaders all around you. You have a God who is pushing you forward. You have angels carrying your feet. Go ahead and glance back when you need the reminder that you can conquer anything. Glance back when you need to see how far you have come.</div>
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Glance. Don't focus. Don't stare. Don't stop. </div>
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Push forward. Finish the race.</div>
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I am running with you.</div>
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"<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward - to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back.</span></b></i>" (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=philippians+3%3A13-14&version=MSG">Philippians 3:12-14; the Message translation</a>)</div>
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May 2017 strengthen your faith, build your character, and bring God the glory He deserves!</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Tv8GcLa4SVXGzLVkyWRl4pHCoc8uV5ax7oMWwy6FX3SCJzyAmPJuttgCQiBhe0XmVLzK-C5ebDtWd_gSAMMGpvOpjx-Os3Qfcg5Foy-Iot2QRQvhL3rGHUzSgJDajaPgR1L7S9kETXs/s1600/SSpage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Tv8GcLa4SVXGzLVkyWRl4pHCoc8uV5ax7oMWwy6FX3SCJzyAmPJuttgCQiBhe0XmVLzK-C5ebDtWd_gSAMMGpvOpjx-Os3Qfcg5Foy-Iot2QRQvhL3rGHUzSgJDajaPgR1L7S9kETXs/s320/SSpage.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From us to you, Happy New Year!</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-78715038541912616552016-11-17T01:09:00.002-08:002016-11-17T14:11:27.014-08:00Fearfully Faithful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-Zge6lWv_C-8tUTO1WloRSNyQ4KkQFWbRWn4FsmhFwX3uwTJpfyXsGDwwcCq_VebIXa4RwjL1s_UvilLk3O9464LV4zTNkQJT1jAxWzBfE39QM0AeVtFA275hPjuUcz1n7BvoFhQRJo/s1600/SS_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-Zge6lWv_C-8tUTO1WloRSNyQ4KkQFWbRWn4FsmhFwX3uwTJpfyXsGDwwcCq_VebIXa4RwjL1s_UvilLk3O9464LV4zTNkQJT1jAxWzBfE39QM0AeVtFA275hPjuUcz1n7BvoFhQRJo/s320/SS_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last time the four of us were together, the day before his funeral.</td></tr>
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It's been eight weeks since my world drastically changed. While everything is still surreal, and there are moments when I almost forget the truth of this reality, there is something that I know to be true...</div>
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I am not who I was eight weeks and one day ago.<br />
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Eight weeks and one day ago, I was carefree and focused on upcoming events for our family: our daughter's 13th birthday, his mother's 60th birthday weekend celebration, planning our trip to Hawaii next spring, and mapping out our Christmas budget.<br />
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Eight weeks and one day ago, my time with God was filled with bold prayers and a hopeful heart; I was in the midst of a 6 month fast (that was one of many blog posts I was writing...I'll get back to that one day) and saw the ways in which God was answering those bold prayers.<br />
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Eight weeks and one day ago, I was a completely different person.<br />
Because eight weeks ago everything about me changed.<br />
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I have felt many emotions during these last 56 days. I have had days when I can physically feel the aching of my heart. I have had moments of overwhelming fear about living this life without my husband. I have had bursts of tears simply because I miss his voice. I have also had moments when I feel complete peace, and moments of joyful hope. But there is one emotion I have not felt: anger. In all of this, I have not felt any anger.<br />
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Because I'm not angry.<br />
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When talking to others, some have expressed to me that there are many mornings when they wake up feeling angry, and that anger carries into the rest of their day and unintentionally attacks those with whom they interact.<br />
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Am I hurt and upset? More than I can explain.<br />
But angry? Not at all.<br />
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So what's the difference between me and those who wake up angry? God.<br />
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I'm not gonna lie, I believe I have every reason to be angry. Why was my husband taken from me at such a young age? Why do my young children have to grow up without their father? Everything was going so good for us, why now? I could walk around angry all day long and who would blame me? I have a valid reason to be angry.<br />
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But I'm not.<br />
Because I have God.<br />
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Eight weeks and one day ago, I walked next to God.<br />
But eight weeks ago began my journey of clinging onto God.<br />
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Have you heard this quote before? I have. Several times. And it's a favorite of mine to repeat when I am reminding others about reliance on God. </div>
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It's the absolute truth: "you never know God is all you need until God is all you have." </div>
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Each of us, at some point in our lives, will have trials that demand complete dependency on God. It could be a battle for health, the loss of a job, an estranged relationship, anything! Trials and heartache are not prejudice. We will all experience a trial that will leave us standing still and wondering why we have to endure hardship. </div>
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Trials are the test of your faith. The test of your heart. The test of your reliance on God.</div>
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One of the hardest things for me to do is watch my children suffer. I want to immediately fix everything. I want to come to their rescue, make their life easy, and keep them from ever hurting. </div>
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But what would happen to them if I never let them hurt? </div>
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They would never mature. They would never grow. They would never learn to persevere.</div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>"We are full of joy even when we suffer. We know that our suffering gives us the strength to go on. The strength to go on produces character. Character produces hope. And hope will never bring us shame. That's because God's love has been poured into our hearts. This happened through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."</i></span> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+5%3A3-5&version=NIRV" target="_blank">Romans 5:3-5 (NIRV)</a></div>
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There is a purpose behind every trial we endure. And it's not because our God is "mean." He's the exact opposite. We serve a God who weeps with us; a God who wraps us in His comfort; a God who wants to give us every desire within our hearts. </div>
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When my children are hurting, I do my best to comfort them and ease their heavy hearts. But I don't rush to fix their problems. I believe in each of them. I know what they can and cannot handle. I have faith in my children, and I rejoice over them when they persevere through difficulty.</div>
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God feels the same way about each of us.</div>
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He doesn't allow trials because he us wants to suffer. He wants to see us grow.</div>
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He wants to see us persevere. </div>
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He has so much faith in us!</div>
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And like the perfect Father that He is, He allows us to experience heartache.</div>
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Without the heartache, would we cling to Him? Or would we just casually walk beside Him?</div>
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Without the trials, would we ever cry out to Him? Or would we go days without seeking Him?</div>
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I am not the same person I was eight weeks and one day ago.</div>
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I am different.</div>
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I am clinging on to God tighter than ever before.</div>
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My entire being is completely reliant on God.</div>
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I've acknowledged out loud that I cannot do this without Him.</div>
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My prayers are not rehearsed. My prayers change everyday. I cry out to Him more times in an hour than I used to all day long.</div>
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You know what I am now?</div>
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I am fearfully faithful.</div>
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I am not fearful of God.</div>
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I am fearful of going a day without Him.</div>
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I remember asking a girlfriend, "if God was all you had, would that be enough?"</div>
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And now here I am, asking myself the same question every day.</div>
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God is all I need. I have wept loudly, quietly, and honestly with God. I have asked Him why. I have collapsed into His comfort, and I have allowed Him to quiet my tears. </div>
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I am not who I was eight weeks and one day ago.</div>
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And I am thankful that I am not.</div>
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I am a witness to God's strength, His love, His comfort, and His promises.</div>
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When we cling onto God, it's impossible to be angry because as we hold onto Him, we are covered in His love and His hope.</div>
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Therefore, I will walk through this trial, clinging onto God for strength, and holding onto His promises.</div>
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For He is the perfect Father.</div>
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And like a daughter dependent on her father, I trust Him.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-8470464583140366442016-10-09T03:21:00.000-07:002017-01-03T19:33:14.191-08:0018 days ago<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/AVvXsEhmsHf2zeE2SXIRpmaG8WIuEsRFFmSKu7vCvEd3d6anF9hmVZ3ecIPzNga4wvTgunedZb7Z0g3RFi7N0hWR9iJOVkRrH3Qj2MpxvhRptlqW7wN4mddaAdZi2vSw8JRa6_-LTt5yAXhY6bc/s1600/watermark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsHf2zeE2SXIRpmaG8WIuEsRFFmSKu7vCvEd3d6anF9hmVZ3ecIPzNga4wvTgunedZb7Z0g3RFi7N0hWR9iJOVkRrH3Qj2MpxvhRptlqW7wN4mddaAdZi2vSw8JRa6_-LTt5yAXhY6bc/s320/watermark.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire Engineer Ryan Osler (photo: Jennifer Osler)</td></tr>
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18 days ago my world stopped.</div>
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I always knew that each time my husband left our home there was a possibility that he may not return. Somewhere in my mind I tucked away the knowledge that he would willingly risk his life for someone else. "<i>It's the job</i>," I'd tell myself. I prided myself on being a fire-wife, able to hold down the fort while my husband was away from home serving the community. </div>
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I prayed for his safety, we talked about the dangers of his job with our kids, but we never imagined this would actually hit our family.</div>
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But then, it did.</div>
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The call I prayed I would never receive suddenly landed on the phone in my lap. I was almost to work, and thank God, I was the passenger in the car as my mom drove us to the office. </div>
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It was the Chief of the department. "<i>There was an accident...</i>"</div>
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For the next torturous hour on the ride home, I felt as though the seatbelt was keeping me from breathing. I was a mixture of screams and tears. </div>
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"<i>This isn't real. He's coming home. He has to come home...</i>"</div>
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My mother felt helpless in the driver's seat, trying to get to my house as fast as possible. I'm not sure how she was able to drive; being a mother, I can only imagine how she must've felt having to witness the shattering of her daughter's heart.</div>
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Standing in the driveway of my home was the chaplain of the department. I couldn't move as I felt my arms drop to my sides while my body folded in half. Someone was trying to get me out of the car, a mixture of kisses and tears were flooding my face...it was my dad. Somehow I gained composure, looked the Chaplain in the eyes and before he said a word, I asked him if my mother-in-law heard about her son.</div>
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Less than an hour later, I was face to face with Chiefs and Captains of the department. Each of them hugging me and offering condolences. The Chief apologized for telling me over the phone, but he feared I would hear talk about the death of a firefighter through the media grapevine. He had every reason to be fearful because it wasn't long after that that I was reading a news article about the sudden and tragic death of a local firefighter. </div>
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And there it was: his name. </div>
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Before I could take another step, I was advised to go to the schools of my children so I could tell them about their father before they heard it from someone else. With my best friend, my husband's best friend, the chaplain, and a Chief, we headed to each of the kids' schools.</div>
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I walked into each school office with a group of solemn faces behind me. I requested to have each of my kids summoned from their class. The Chief and the Chaplain hid themselves from sight, speaking with school officials to let them know why we were there. </div>
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Two different schools. Two different children. Both with the same question as soon as they saw me..."<i>Mommy, what's wrong?</i>" I wrapped them each in my arms before pulling away, grabbing their precious faces and looking into their eyes as I had to tell them about their Daddy.</div>
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The rest of the day is a blur. People were coming and going; news vans were driving up my street; my phone was constantly ringing; I was standing still in a world of chaos.</div>
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But my world stopped.</div>
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It's been 18 days since my husband died. 20 days since I last saw him. 21 days since our last date.</div>
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21 years since he asked me to be his girlfriend. 16 years since I became his bride.</div>
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My heart is experiencing an ache that is impossible to describe. I've been trying. I've been searching for words to explain the depth of the ache in my soul.</div>
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For a few days after the news of my husband's passing, I couldn't even go to God. What was there to say to Him? He could see my shattered heart, He could hear my tears, and He could read my thoughts. </div>
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On the 5th day, I finally went to Him. I sat in the prayer space of my closet that my husband created for me, I opened up my journal and I prayed:</div>
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"<i>It's been 5 days since my world stopped. ... This morning, God, I feel at peace. I know it's the <u>thousands</u> of prayers that have been said on our behalf and I pray that those prayers don't stop.</i></div>
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<i>God, I'm begging for your strength and your wisdom. As peaceful as I feel right now in these moments, I know there will be times when I lose sight. I pray that you will protect me, guard my heart, and keep the enemy's lies from me. I know the enemy wants me to blame you and hate you, I pray that I continue to hear those whispers as lies. Please continue to show yourself to me in ways I can clearly see you.</i></div>
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<i>God, I pray that you stay especially close to my children. ... God, my children are about to begin a journey that is going to be filled with emptiness at times. I pray that you fill their hearts with your love and they feel their hearts lighten.</i></div>
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<i>God, I know you are a God of love and I know you would never want to hurt me. I know you are hurting <u>with</u> me, but I also know you see a bigger picture than what I see in front of me.</i></div>
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<i>God, I pray that your peace stays with me today. ... Father, I know and trust that you have something incredible planned. ... God, I am so thankful for your church; I am so thankful for the way you orchestrated my life so that I could be here. The love and the warmth from them is the evidence of <u>your</u> love for me, and I am grateful.</i></div>
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<i>Please stay close to me and the kids. Please keep showing yourself to me in ways that I can see/feel you. I love you. I need you. I trust you."</i></div>
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Each morning since then, I have made sure to spend time with God. Each day I pour out my heart which is filled with questions and uncertainties, but also faith and gratitude.</div>
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I have been truly, truly overwhelmed with the outpouring of love from all areas of the country. The generosity of strangers for a hero they never met has left me speechless. I have received hundreds of emails, text messages, and private social media messages, from friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers. With every word that has been typed, written, and spoken to me, I truly believe each is a love note from God.</div>
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I trust God wholeheartedly. I would love to fast forward and get to the part when it all makes sense, but in the meantime, I will lean against His strength, His love, and His comfort. As broken as I feel, God is desperately wanting to piece me back together. </div>
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And He will.</div>
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And I will be stronger.</div>
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I will be faithful.</div>
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I will be whole.</div>
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Because I am His.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGMCom1r1LddaClDhn6BXhabtbVjoK1_IJke-GqsWyE7_TekfSD_4KcnCbXne4UFJck3GONCf0X7lLuZRK0Fjo3ohCmjALbAxSfyNedJE3KR8fUSn0ammyqobSBwW7MR4bByzWAWrVSA/s1600/30020484191_05d04c51d9_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGMCom1r1LddaClDhn6BXhabtbVjoK1_IJke-GqsWyE7_TekfSD_4KcnCbXne4UFJck3GONCf0X7lLuZRK0Fjo3ohCmjALbAxSfyNedJE3KR8fUSn0ammyqobSBwW7MR4bByzWAWrVSA/s320/30020484191_05d04c51d9_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My children and I heading into my husband's funeral. (Photo credit: Adam VanGerpen)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA63CHHXux1GlKGhkvTLY-pRJ57-TLjQhjdtGUeHk3XmzHBd8VLL-G07befqlnFQ0lozKGKwUIB-bp5lmNJoxXYDyyKI8dODplTreSiscI-esAsaPbwBomgiD75c0v7dkT6S-XkVN8wpw/s1600/OSLER_88_watermark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA63CHHXux1GlKGhkvTLY-pRJ57-TLjQhjdtGUeHk3XmzHBd8VLL-G07befqlnFQ0lozKGKwUIB-bp5lmNJoxXYDyyKI8dODplTreSiscI-esAsaPbwBomgiD75c0v7dkT6S-XkVN8wpw/s320/OSLER_88_watermark.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our last hug, captured by our daughter, on the night he left.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-25524578482104991532016-06-13T12:22:00.002-07:002016-06-13T14:29:56.272-07:00From My Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.petuniadiaries.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib65gByjuO5K2RADZaEvD_VZG32q8DJSpmfc0BrEJESfrDKQT3H9EAqd7NhPfjajmaSRvcaWkmuG4vGvOebL9RRWKKZIg4LLq1I7TUv7O9rC3aSAJNKmg8iT29IGVBIxdeBpk1SotmlG8/s320/PD_logo01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm not one to push a product or a website, but this one is very dear to my heart.</div>
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As you may have read in a <a href="https://marriedbutspirituallysingle.blogspot.com/2016/01/get-up-and-go-back-in.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">previous post</span></a>, my grandfather passed away nearly 6 months ago after being diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer only two months prior to his passing. My family was delivered devastating news with hardly any time to process the enormous loss we would soon face. </div>
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My grandfather was given his diagnosis in October, so as we crept up to the holiday season, my cousin and I were trying to find a way to encourage our grandparents during this difficult time. My sweet cousin, Katie, came up with the idea of sending scriptures to our grandparents for daily encouragement beginning December 1st leading up to Christmas day. </div>
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Together, my cousin and I searched through our bibles, finding scripture that not only encouraged us, but would remind our grandparents of the glorious day that was ahead for our grandfather. We quickly printed scriptures on individual pieces of paper, enclosed them in an envelope and instructed our grandparents to open one envelope each day and read the scripture together. </div>
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Every day, until December 25th, our grandparents read scripture together and then hung each card on a ribbon in their hallway to allow themselves the reminder of God's promises.</div>
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My grandfather closed his eyes to the world only four days after Christmas.</div>
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Our grandmother shared with us that she continued to reread the cards everyday and she had actually begun to memorize each scripture (that's a lot of scripture - I still have a hard time memorizing one!).</div>
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Seeing the encouragement our grandparents felt, and the encouragement my grandmother was still receiving, Katie and I were compelled to do something greater with God's word.</div>
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And so, <a href="http://www.petuniadiaries.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Petunia Diaries</span></a> was born.</div>
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Katie and I have joined together to continue sharing encouragement with the world around us. Our homemade, home printer quality encouragement cards have been revamped into beautiful personally designed, professionally printed cards that can be used for anything your heart desires. Send a note of encouragement to someone in need; place your favorite card in a frame to keep in your home, or you can do like I do - I keep several cards tacked to a cork board in my "war room" for daily encouragement and reminders of God's love.</div>
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Are you wondering why we chose the name Petunia Diaries?</div>
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It comes directly from our hearts. Our grandmother would lovingly refer to each of us as her petunia, and since this project began with our grandparents, we wanted to incorporate something sentimental in our name. </div>
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Ever since I was a little girl (7 years old, to be exact), I've always kept some type of diary or journal to record my deepest thoughts, my heartfelt desires, and my intimate prayers. Diaries are the place where we are free to expose our hearts.</div>
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So, in a way, we are sharing our diary with you. </div>
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Please stop by our <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/PetuniaDiaries" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Etsy shop</span></a> </span>and take a look around. We are just beginning and are planning to have many more wonderful things available to you (we already sold out of our journals - can't believe it!). </div>
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As a special <span style="color: #cc0000;">THANK YOU</span> to all of my subscribers, we are offering a <u>10% discount</u> off your entire order (<span style="color: #3d85c6;">coupon code: SSfriends</span><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> - this code expires on 06/21/16)</span>. </div>
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I am SO thankful for each of you and the many ways you have encouraged me over the last couple of years as I have shared my "diary" with you through this blog. Each of you mean so much to me, and I am truly so thankful for your continued support. </div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/PetuniaDiaries" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xViazjUWNEqNBmAbASoMhghhLEOi2h3bLaH5ot1NzCN0_GqEHEt93gQOtTkvaWEz89ubIvO-GdCudlwJpVJTdD6lO_xmxnenzybkNyG8HMa_5iR5slk7jNAnTqoGfcsUZ3nEcHzMToM/s320/PD_mockup01_watermark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Love one another..." (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+John+3%3A23&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">1 John 3:23</span></a>)</div>
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Thank you for loving me.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-76399152358951317382016-05-12T12:52:00.001-07:002016-05-15T08:48:55.104-07:00"It's Just Church"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5dmLVm8kZoDruCv9gHPQWlPWtUiPmtJryge1iaj31bD_Vu1VMIEV5wMzBJUVmQV9ngEw04UdxQGvT_IhDdWtEuVV5fOhLe3_ykRjsaOiqZHBfKD5qYoJ0vKTbc7m2V8kEfiQqMng5lk/s1600/set-free.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5dmLVm8kZoDruCv9gHPQWlPWtUiPmtJryge1iaj31bD_Vu1VMIEV5wMzBJUVmQV9ngEw04UdxQGvT_IhDdWtEuVV5fOhLe3_ykRjsaOiqZHBfKD5qYoJ0vKTbc7m2V8kEfiQqMng5lk/s320/set-free.jpg" /></a></div>
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We recently celebrated Mother's Day. It's taken me a few (ok, several) years not to have expectations for this day. Not that my husband has ever overlooked this day since I first became a mother, but because no matter what he did, I thought he could've done something a little bit better, a little bit sweeter, or a little more sentimental. The poor guy never stood a chance against the made-for-film Mother's Day I imagined in my mind.</div>
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So, the last few years, I've learned to recognize my husband's sweet efforts rather than pick them apart. This year, I was so impressed with his gift giving skills. He bought a cork board for my closet. Before you scratch your head in confusion, let me tell you that this cork board meant more to me than a fancy handbag or expensive shoes. The reason it meant so much to me is because several months ago I mentioned that I wanted a cork board for my prayer space because the sticky notes I purchased don't stick to the wall very well. It was a simple sentence that I didn't expect to last in his mind, especially because it slipped mine repeatedly.</div>
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That was my only gift. And it was the only one I wanted. It was the only one I forgot that I had even mentioned. My heart was bursting at the seams over my new cork board (complete with decorative pushpins).</div>
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And then, my bubble popped. My husband said something to me that he hasn't said in years. And he said it in front of my children. We were all sitting on my bed when my husband said, "don't go to church. Let's stay home and just relax. We can stay in our pj's, watch movies all day and just relax..." The background noise was that of my two children: "ooh yeah, Mommy! Let's stay home! I want to go back to sleep! C'mon, Mom! I don't want to go to church!" My husband's smile was as big as the sun on a summer day. He was acting as though he just solved the problem of world hunger. And the kids were cheering him on.</div>
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That sounded like such an ideal morning. I hesitated. Then I said, "no, I'm going to church. You don't have to come with me, but I'm gonna go." Everyone's cheers suddenly became groans. My daughter's teenage attitude erupted because she was annoyed. My son thew his head back and whined as though I just took away his favorite video game. My husband put a hand on my leg and said, "come on...it's just church..."</div>
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"It's just church."</div>
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Years ago, my husband and I had a long talk about my need for God and His church. We had to have this talk because many, many years before that my husband loved to talk me out of going to church. He promised to make me breakfast, take me on shopping sprees, day trips, anything that could bribe me into staying away from church. I let those bribes work. And do you know what happens when you don't regularly spend time with God and the fellowship of His church? You slowly start pulling away. It becomes easier and easier to stay away. And suddenly, you haven't been to church in so long that it feels weird to go back.</div>
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And, if you're anything like me, once the accountability is gone the old habits come rushing back. I eventually stopped going to church. My marriage was falling apart. I was drinking, smoking, cussing, and partying as if I were a young, single girl. But I wasn't. I was a wife. I was a mother.</div>
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I missed God so much, but I didn't know how to go back. I was ashamed and embarrassed because I walked away. I tried everything to fill that void, but I was never satisfied. </div>
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Finally the day came when I couldn't stand another minute without God. I called a friend from church and asked her to pick me up and take me to church. I didn't trust myself to actually walk in the door once I was there.</div>
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When I walked into the church building, I was covered with an overwhelming sense of relief. I was home. And I never wanted to leave again.</div>
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As I was falling in love with God and giving my heart back to Him, I knew I had another man who wanted the entirety of my heart, as well.</div>
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It was time to tell my husband that God is, and was going to be, my first priority.</div>
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I think I just blurted it out one night: "I have to go to church. I need God." My husband was very supportive, after all we had just reconciled our marriage after being separated for a long time.</div>
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"No, I don't think you understand. God has to be first, then you." He didn't like the direction of our conversation. "Please don't ask me to compromise Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights. I want to be at church. I need it."</div>
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I needed to lay down the foundation that God is first and I will not compromise my time with Him. And with that foundation in place, my husband was able to see that I was a better wife. I was a better mom. My overall being was just better.</div>
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For years since then, my husband has never asked me to skip church. Until the other day.</div>
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I immediately heard myself entertain the idea: <i>"what's the harm in skipping church here and there? We rarely get these mornings together. And it's Mother's Day. Totally understandable."</i></div>
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But then I looked at my children and their faces begging me to stay home: <i>"If I decide to stay home, what does that say to my kids? It's ok to skip church because I'm feeling lazy? Would it look like I put God first, or me?"</i></div>
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I scooted myself out of bed, much to the disapproval of my family, and started to get myself ready for church. This was the first time I didn't tell my children to get themselves ready for church. I silently got ready and tried not to imagine the pathetic picture of me sadly moping into church, having to tell everyone that on Mother's Day my family allowed me to attend church alone.</div>
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As I was putting together the final touches, I noticed that my husband was getting himself ready. My daughter poked her head into my bathroom to ask if she could borrow my perfume. I could hear my son downstairs looking for his shoes.</div>
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Before I knew it, the four of us were in the car and on our way to church. Nobody complained. Nobody whined. Nobody had an attitude.</div>
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And when it came time to pray with the congregation, I grabbed my husband's hand and thanked God for the best Mother's Day gift ever.</div>
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The gift of my husband. The gift of my children.</div>
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The gift of my salvation.</div>
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The gift of His love.</div>
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The gift of His grace.</div>
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Because it's not "just church." It's my <u>foundation</u>.</div>
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xoxo</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-9933401031051042342016-04-01T18:58:00.001-07:002016-05-02T09:52:21.364-07:00I'm a Christian, but I'm not...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sP-3rNyUFKUrYX5TVncbEpFNUQe72gP8eImy2zgx9Nvwi1aOTfL8LeVIZWhTTTDsic-LWZkvIW3twLi_WD4YecNsDDfrbA_i9hwHfJ9oae39xqAQO5rfdlhM74FgIkyU5Ok7QfjSTfE/s1600/beautiful-woman-with-long-hair-silhouette-watching-flower-at-sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sP-3rNyUFKUrYX5TVncbEpFNUQe72gP8eImy2zgx9Nvwi1aOTfL8LeVIZWhTTTDsic-LWZkvIW3twLi_WD4YecNsDDfrbA_i9hwHfJ9oae39xqAQO5rfdlhM74FgIkyU5Ok7QfjSTfE/s320/beautiful-woman-with-long-hair-silhouette-watching-flower-at-sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
There are some common beliefs that come along with the label "Christian."<br />
Here is my letter to you.<br />
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Dear Beloved Unbeliever,<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">I am a Christian. But I am not...</span><br />
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<b><u>Perfect</u></b><br />
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This is probably the most common stereotypical label placed on anyone who claims to be of Christian faith.<br />
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"<i>Oh, you're a Christian. So you think you're perfect.</i>"<br />
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Are you kidding me? I'm the furthest thing from perfect. I'm a downright sinner. My flaws are huge. But it's because of the awareness of my imperfections that I realize I need God more than anything else in the world. I know that I fall short of His glory every day - that's why I need His grace. I need God for the reason that I am <u>not</u> perfect.<br />
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If I thought I was perfect, I would think that I don't need God.....so, really, who here thinks they are perfect?<br />
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Scripture tells us that <u>all</u> of us fall short of God's glory (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+3%3A23&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Romans 3:23</span></a>); there is not a single human being who can boast about being perfect. I will make mistakes. Every day I will fail. And that's ok. God doesn't ask perfection of me. He asks for my best effort.<br />
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Yes, I am Christian. But I am not perfect. And that is exactly why I need God.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">I am a Christian. But I am not...</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<b><u>A Doormat</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Many believe that because I am a Christian, I have to "suck it up and take it." Whether it's verbal persecution, or wrongful behaviors towards me, it is believed by the world that I should just "take it." Some non-believers will even quote scripture:<br />
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<i>"But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also."</i> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+5%3A39&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Matthew 5:39</span></a><br />
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<i>"But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." </i><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+5%3A44&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Matthew 5:44</span></a><br />
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<i>"Wives, in the same way, submit yourselves to your own husbands..." </i><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+peter+3%3A1&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">1 Peter 3:1</span></a><br />
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<i>"Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying, 'I repent,' you must forgive them." </i><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke+17%3A4&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Luke 17:4</span></a><br />
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One of my least favorite things to hear is a non-believer take scripture and pull it out of context. Each of these scriptures, if read or quoted without its entirety, can definitely be made to read as though God expects His faithful believers to be doormats. But, as believers, we know this not to be true of our God. We are God's most treasured possession, the last thing He wants is for us to "stand there and take it."<br />
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There is one characteristic I see in each of these scriptures: dignity. I see a quality that is worthy of honor and respect. The easiest thing to do when someone verbally attacks us is to fight back with our own words. When we are wronged, it is effortless to retaliate or seek revenge. <br />
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There is no strength behind retaliation. It takes nothing to fight back. The anger within is eager to retaliate. The true strength is found in dignity. The fight against the fight takes true strength.<br />
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The strength is in the dignity of our character because we are made in the image of God. <br />
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We are not doormats. We are stronger than that. We don't retaliate because we have strength in God's power.<br />
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Submission, forgiveness, and love are characteristics of the <u>strong</u>.<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">I am a Christian, but I am not...</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<b><u>Free From Temptation </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
I'm human. I have a sinful nature. I am tempted every day. Yes, I made Jesus the Lord of my life, but that did not erase temptation. Even Jesus was tempted (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+4%3A1-11&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Matthew 4:1-11</span></a>), and he was perfect!<br />
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One of the biggest misconceptions is that because I am a Christian, I am no longer faced with temptation. If anything, I am faced with more temptation than ever because the enemy specifically seeks to take my heart away from God. Just like the enemy went after Jesus, or the way he went after Job (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=job+1%3A1-12&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Job 1:1-12</span></a>), the enemy is prowling around my heart, trying to find that one thing that will pull me down and tear me away from God.<br />
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Just like those of the world, my nature seeks that which is not good for me. We all know the cartoons that pictured a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other...well, when we become Christians, that angel and that devil are no joke. <br />
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I wish my life was free from temptation. I wish I could say to you, "I have no idea what that struggle is like," but the truth is, I can stare you in the eyes and say, "I struggle with that, too." <br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">I am a Christian, but I am not...</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<b><u>Judging You</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Spend a couple hours with me and you'll hear about everything I've done before, and after, I became a Christian. I can guarantee that your eyes will jump out of your head and you will think to yourself, "at least I wasn't as bad as her!" <br />
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The truth is, I'm a Christian, but I'm not judging you. I've done some pretty awful things. I've said some incredibly hurtful words. Who am I to judge anyone?<br />
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<i>"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." <span style="color: #e06666;"> </span></i><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+7%3A1-2&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Matthew 7:1-2</span></a><br />
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Society likes to throw this scripture at believers, "don't judge me!" I can promise that a true believer of Christ is not judging you. We've walked that path. We've been that road. We've made bad choices. We have a list of regrets. We don't think we're better, and we don't think you're worse.<br />
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When I approach you about getting to know God, it's because I've been there. I know that life. And I have the solution to your broken heart.<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">I am a Christian, but I am not...</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<b><u>Boring</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
I've heard so many times, "I don't want to be a Christian because I have to give up the fun stuff."<br />
What fun stuff are you talking about? The drinking? The partying? The drugs? The sex? The pornography? The cussing? <br />
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Think about each of those things: each has the potential to lead to dangerous grounds. I used to drink. I used to smoke. I used to party. I sought attention from other men - even though I was married. I watched pornography. I used profanity in place of common words. <br />
<br />
I've lived life with God, then without God, and then with God again. The worst time of my life? The time when I left God. Out of boredom is when I found trouble. My marriage almost ended. I was seeing another man. I spent so much money I almost lost our home. I did everything I could to fill the void in my heart. Maybe if I drink...maybe if I party...maybe if I flirt...maybe if I smoke...maybe if I spend money...maybe if...maybe if...<br />
<br />
My life was filled with boredom, so I tried to fill it with the things the world promises will cure the emptiness. "Party more! Drink more! Go out more!" <br />
<br />
The list of things most non-believers are afraid to give up is a list of empty promises. When the words, "I don't want to give up the fun stuff" come out of the mouth of a non-believer, what is really being said is, "I don't know what else will make me feel good."<br />
<br />
Give God a chance to fill your heart and your life with things that will make you feel good. He will pour so much into your life that you will wonder how you ever lived without Him before.<br />
<br />
Life with God is never boring. He will fill your heart and your life with more than you could ever imagine. "Boring" isn't in God's vocabulary.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><u>I am a Christian, therefore, I AM...</u></span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><u><br /></u></span>
Saved.<br />
Redeemed.<br />
Forgiven.<br />
Loved.<br />
Treasured.<br />
Admired.<br />
Cherished.<br />
Protected.<br />
Wanted.<br />
Needed.<br />
STRONG.<br />
<br />
I am not perfect, but I am not weak. I am not free from temptation, and I am not judging you.<br />
<br />
I am a person who seeks love, admiration, fulfillment, happiness, and strength.<br />
<br />
I am just like you.<br />
<br />
xoxo <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-10149901456100028152016-03-29T14:29:00.002-07:002017-01-06T22:16:10.188-08:00I Moved A Storm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5LrPQs1Lof9f4eEF-DTzLH9VmUUBo-y_7KRx6K3FSpq9zPEr3nzqQg_kjP55iG2aWRjBIzQ8OrUh8GCh8SxASfLiDeFk_IShPNAd3OPfgg3NGowWDyEdl2Xjfga4NUf8kHoZMsbe8xXk/s1600/life-storm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5LrPQs1Lof9f4eEF-DTzLH9VmUUBo-y_7KRx6K3FSpq9zPEr3nzqQg_kjP55iG2aWRjBIzQ8OrUh8GCh8SxASfLiDeFk_IShPNAd3OPfgg3NGowWDyEdl2Xjfga4NUf8kHoZMsbe8xXk/s320/life-storm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I moved a storm. Yep. You read that correctly. I moved a storm.<br />
<br />
Ok, so I didn't personally move the storm, but God certainly did.<br />
<br />
With my daughter's permission, I'm going to fill you in on a snippet of what's been clouding our home for the past few months. To make an extremely long story short: a few months ago my daughter was suddenly hit with severe anxiety. It paralyzed her personality, crippling her in so many ways, and left our household feeling trapped in the eye of a storm. There were days that my husband and I would have to physically remove her from the car just to get her to school. My husband was in tears the day he had to carry her into the school grounds because she was physically fighting my efforts. <br />
<br />
Teachers, counselors, staff, even the principal of the school, rallied around our daughter to make her days easier. She wasn't being bullied, nothing even remotely damaging had happened to her. She couldn't explain it. She was crying because she was crying, and she had no idea why. She was worried about the "what if's" - what if something happened to her? What if something happened to me? What if something happened to her dad? Her brother? <br />
<br />
We read book after book about anxiety, we met with a psychologist, her pediatrician, a behaviorist...and we were all at a loss. My church family covered her in prayer, as well as myself and my husband. Every day I was begging for prayers: "<i>please pray for me, I'm so lost. I don't know how to help her. I can't get through to her.</i>" My daughter's prayer journals were filled with words like "why is this happening to me? Why won't it stop? Why can't I be normal?" I tried to tell her that her anxiety and worry meant that she was lacking trust in God - but she couldn't even grasp the idea of turning to God because she felt her world was spinning. Her outrages in the mornings would exhaust her, and once home from school, she would nap and then wake up with barely a memory of the morning.<br />
<br />
I had to beg others for prayer because I couldn't form a single sentence when it came to my time with God. My tears were my prayers for months. <br />
<br />
Finally, we started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We weren't quite out of the danger zone, but there was some light trying to break through the clouds. And then she had a four day break from school, just a couple of weeks ago. The night before she was to go back to school, she was inconsolable. Crying because she was scared. <i>"What if I get sick at school? What if something happens while you're at work? What if...what if...what if..."</i> I locked myself in the bathroom and started to cry out of anger and frustration.<br />
<br />
In between my tears I sent a group text to the women in my life I lovingly refer to as my prayer warriors. I needed prayer. <br />
<br />
Each morning I wake up before the sun rises to make a cup of coffee to sip during my time with God. The house is dark, I don't turn on a single light, and I quietly make my way through the house, careful not to wake anyone. The morning my daughter was going back to school, my back was turned towards the window in my kitchen, but there was no mistaking the flash of light that filled the house. Shortly after that came the thunder. I paused, afraid to breathe. I waited. More lightning. More thunder. <br />
<br />
This is my daughter's biggest fear, aside from the unknown "what-it's." Thunder and lightning. I grabbed my cup of coffee, turned around to look out the window and whispered, "<i>are you kidding me, right now, God??</i>"<br />
<br />
I was mad. I was frustrated. I couldn't believe God would do this to me. To my daughter. To us.<br />
<br />
I walked upstairs to find my husband awake, staring out the window. "Babe! Did you see this lightning? It's crazy!" My husband loves thunder storms. Our bedroom was being lit up like a summer day at noon. I just looked at him, ready to cry, and headed straight to my closet - my war room.<br />
<br />
As soon as I closed the door to my closet, I broke down in tears.<br />
<br />
"<i>Why are you letting this happen, God? Can't you give her a break? She doesn't need this! She's already nervous! She's already scared! Why are you doing this??</i>"<br />
<br />
I kept talking, directly from my heart. Anger, frustration, hurt, and fear was pouring out of my eyes in the form of tears.<br />
<br />
<i>"You can move this storm, God. I know you can place your mighty hands down here and push this storm away. Do it! I know you can and I want you to do it! Move it!! Please God, I'm begging you! Even if it's just long enough to get her to school, move it! I know you can!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I continued my quiet time with God (although I don't know how quiet my angry whispers were...), and went on about my morning, kissed my husband good-bye as he left for work, got myself ready and prepared to wake my daughter to help her get ready for the day.<br />
<br />
Just before I went into her room, my husband called. "You know what's weird? I haven't seen any lightning since what we saw this morning..."<br />
<br />
My heart stopped. I wasn't even paying attention. I never looked outside. I didn't notice that the lightning and thunder stopped. <br />
<br />
"<i>You know why it stopped, don't you?</i>" The words nearly jumped off my tongue. <i>"I prayed about it!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I know my husband wanted to give a belly laugh, but instead he offered a polite giggle. My joy didn't allow room to translate his laugh as persecution. My prayer was not only heard, but answered immediately! I nearly ran up the stairs to wake my daughter; I was so excited to tell her about the way God answered my prayer.<br />
<br />
<i>"Isn't that amazing? That lets us know that He is near to us all the time! He hears our prayers!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I sent my daughter off to school, and began my hour long commute to work. I was still on a fluffy cloud (because the storm clouds were gone) and had to tell more people about the way God answered my prayer. I shared with my mom; I sent a group text to my prayer warriors, and I shared with my coworkers. <br />
<br />
One of my coworkers responded with, "so I have you to thank for that?" Confused, I asked what she meant. She proceeded to tell me that in all the years she lived in the valley (approximately a 20-30 minute drive from my home) she had never experienced thunder like she did that morning. "It shook the whole house! I've never been through anything like that!" My smile must've been from ear to ear...I remembered that I asked God to <u>move</u> the storm, not necessarily stop it.<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of the day with a smile on my face, praising God to anyone who would listen. <br />
<br />
God will do that sometimes. He likes to show off every now and then. Especially during the storm. <br />
<br />
When we are in the middle of a stormy part of life, that's when God will grab the opportunity to calm the storm. He knows that when He calms our storms, we will sing his praises to all who will listen. <br />
<br />
Does that mean that should be the only time we praise Him? Of course not. We need to praise Him in all things....the good, the bad, and the ugly. But the moments like this, when it's so clearly obvious that He is near and listening to our words and our hearts, are the moments that will sit deep in our hearts and serve as a reminder when we face another storm. When I feel like God isn't hearing my prayers, when I feel like my words are being scattered in the wind...I'll always come back to the time God moved the storm.<br />
<br />
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span class="text Matt-8-23" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">"Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him.</span> <span class="text Matt-8-24" id="en-NIV-23370" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping.</span> <span class="text Matt-8-25" id="en-NIV-23371" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”</span></i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-NIV-23372" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>He replied, <span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“<span style="color: #cc0000;">You of little faith,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23372C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23372C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> why are you so afraid</span>?”</span> Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23372D" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23372D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text Matt-8-27" id="en-NIV-23373" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” Matthew 8:23-27</i></span></span></div>
<br />
For all the days of my life, I will never forget the way God answered my prayer that morning.<br />
I poured my heart out to Him with genuine conviction and belief that He could do anything.<br />
My faith was not little that morning. My faith was big. It was loud. And it was real. <br />
<br />
When we feel like we are drowning in the storm, let's approach God with conviction that He can do anything in our lives. After all, He shaped the mountains, he placed the stars, and he controls the oceans.<br />
<br />
He can move the storms for you, too.<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-51446323368839949892016-03-07T13:32:00.000-08:002017-01-06T22:21:48.308-08:00Do I Give Enough?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokgaS6H2RDbH7U8qd-Z9jpTvdqbBd6Hyhy_8HcCLykJB1HUUzia8UOeIhQjQm4X5xoe7r56xF5gC5b5Caxi5dIRhTlM9YsQW78W_9M78KJL7sJIxTj2h3D0cdT5XG-JUoIxzeZE95MxE/s1600/IMG_8462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokgaS6H2RDbH7U8qd-Z9jpTvdqbBd6Hyhy_8HcCLykJB1HUUzia8UOeIhQjQm4X5xoe7r56xF5gC5b5Caxi5dIRhTlM9YsQW78W_9M78KJL7sJIxTj2h3D0cdT5XG-JUoIxzeZE95MxE/s320/IMG_8462.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
At the beginning of each year, our church hands out boxes of 52 envelopes. These envelopes are a soft blue color and the date of each Sunday of the year is stamped on the front. And if that's not easy enough, our church has the ability to set up our weekly contributions online! I love it! I used to have my weekly contribution set up online....that is, until I had to start using the envelopes.<br />
<br />
Let me start here: <br />
<br />
Jesus tells us that it's impossible to worship God and money (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke+16%3A13&version=NIV" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Luke 16:13</span></a>). Jesus says that we will love one and hate the other, or devote ourselves to one and detest the other.<br />
<br />
I love God. Obviously. And I like to think of myself as a simple girl; don't get me wrong, I love a fancy pair of shoes and a well-made handbag, but you won't find me out there buying either one. Several years ago you would've seen me in Nordstrom's with my credit card hot to the touch because I was using it so much, but that lead me to a path of destruction. <br />
<br />
My husband is a firefighter and works crazy hard to provide an incredible life for me and our children. He picks up extra shifts so that I can work part-time, we can take the kids to Disneyland (although not anymore because it's so dang expensive), my son can play year-round baseball, and my daughter can take dance classes, or painting classes, or whatever she's in the mood to try. His job is not easy, despite what some may think. He comes home after a 24 hour shift physically and mentally tired. He may occasionally get a full four days off, but he's not himself until day four, and then he has to go back and do it again. <br />
<br />
So, he likes to see where his hard earned money is going and what it is being used for - rightfully so. He knows God, he acknowledges God, but he doesn't <u>love</u> God...yet. And he definitely doesn't think we should be giving to God, because he views it as giving to the church, not to God.<br />
<br />
This has been a crazy topic in our home and has been the source of many, many arguments. So......I had a brilliant idea < *cough, cough* > that I would give to God....without telling my husband. How could I be wrong with that? I mean, I'm doing my biblical duty, I'm honoring God and all that He has given to me, so how could I be wrong?<br />
<br />
For a whole year, I gave my weekly contribution to God through the online service our church provides. For years before that, I was the only one who handled our finances. For years before that, I vowed to tithe based on <u>my</u> gross income. I even increased my tithe when I got a raise. And every Sunday I felt good watching the collection plate pass my hands knowing that the next morning I would see the deduction from my checking account. For years, I tricked myself into believing I was doing the right thing.<br />
<br />
And then one night we sat down with a couple from church who have been our closest friends for many years. We were discussing finances (the conversation was going decently well; I was being called out on a lot of sin, but my husband was being given pointers as well), and just when I thought the conversation was over because the four of us were laughing and cleaning up dinner, it quickly turned on me when I said, "<i>well, there is one more thing....</i>" However, I said this statement with such confidence because I believed my church-going, God-loving friends would sign up on Team Jenn right away. <br />
<br />
"<i>Tithe. I give each week to the church. [My husband] doesn't know about that. BUT! I don't base my tithe off the household income, only mine.</i>" I smiled the whole time I said this. I was so proud of myself for being so sacrificial with <u>my</u> money. I couldn't wait to hear them applaud me and tell my husband that it's my duty to give back to God.<br />
<br />
That's not what happened. <br />
<br />
I was sitting next to my best friend and across from her husband. Nobody laughed. Nobody smiled. In fact, it was dead silent. The next words spoken were from her husband, "<i>what else, Jenn? What else are you hiding?</i>" Tears instantly sprang to my eyes. I was confused. Where was the Team Jenn flag he was supposed to be waving? I looked to my best friend. She wouldn't even look at me. I started to defend myself, defend my actions, justify that I was doing the right thing. <br />
<br />
"<i>My husband doesn't want me to give to the church! But I have to! What am I supposed to do?</i>"<br />
<br />
For the next several, lengthy, torturous minutes (ok, I'm exaggerating, it wasn't exactly torture), it was explained to me why it was wrong.<br />
<br />
It's never wrong to give to God. Ever. Let's clarify that. <br />
<br />
The wrong was in my deceit. My husband had no idea I was giving to the church. On the occasional Sundays that he would join me, he never asked me about contribution because he didn't know that we could give our contribution online. He assumed that I didn't give to the church...and I let him assume that. <br />
<br />
Aside from deceit, without realizing it, I was separating our money. My husband is so generous. He works so hard and allows that extra money to go towards something we want to do as a family...or, he puts it towards debt I incurred over years and pays off all our debt. All that money that he earned as he watched a man die in front of him, as he pulled a lifeless child out of a swimming pool, as he cut apart a car to rescue a young girl, as he risked his life on top of a burning building...all that money that was earned through his emotional sacrifice, he allows to be used as our family needs for "extras" in life. <br />
<br />
And yet, I was taking <u>my</u> money and doing what I wanted with it. Without asking him. Without telling him. Because I assumed I was doing the right thing.<br />
<br />
The day after we spent time with our friends, we sat down and went through all of our bills and set up a brand new, beautiful budget (that's coming up in a future blog). There was only one thing missing: he didn't allow for contribution to the church. Nowhere in our budget were the words "church" or "God." I didn't say anything, I wanted to let my husband lead this conversation. <br />
<br />
A couple hours later I called my best friend: "<i>I don't know what to do, he didn't allow room for a contribution! I can't do that! What am I supposed to do??</i>" She asked me if I was given an "allowance" in the budget (this is the money that I'm given each week to use however I wish - no questions asked). My husband budgeted for each of us to have a weekly allowance of $40 (sounds like a lot until you realize how many times you eat out, how many coffees you buy or how long it takes to save for a haircut).<br />
<br />
My best friend said to me, "<i>perfect! So tithe off of your allowance each week!</i>"<br />
Me: "<i>What? I can't do that! Only $4 each week? Are you kidding me?</i>"<br />
Righteous Bestie: "<i>Absolutely! That is yours, God knows you can do anything you want with it - so why not tithe off that?</i>"<br />
<br />
I felt so much guilt about the idea of giving only $4 each week to God. There was no way I could ever live with that. So, the next night at church I pulled aside the minister's wife. I explained to her what was going on, how I had been deceiving my husband and my plan to repent, but now I didn't know what to do about tithe. I told her about my bestie's suggestion and asked for her advice. She laughed, smiled, hugged me so tightly and said, "I think that's a great idea." I must have looked at her like she was crazy because she laughed again and followed it up with the most beautiful reminder, "<i>God isn't worried about how much you give from your wallet, He's only concerned about how much you give from your heart."</i> I felt instant relief pouring over my shoulders. <br />
<br />
She reminded me that God loves a cheerful giver (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+corinthians+9%3A7&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">2 Corinthians 9:7</span></a>), not necessarily a rich giver. She said, "<i>God is more fired up about the fact that your heart is aching to give him more, but you are giving him what you can. You have an allowance that you can use for anything you want, but you want to make sure you give to God. That's awesome! That's what He wants! You can revisit the topic of contribution with your husband later, but for now, I think giving from your allowance is an awesome idea."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
That night I church, I went to the table and asked for a box of envelopes. There was something about the way that box felt in my hands. Suddenly I realized that it truly was in my heart to give to God. I didn't think of it as a duty or a bill I had to pay.<br />
<br />
I wanted to give to Him because I love Him. Because I'm grateful for all that He has given to me. And that was all that mattered.<br />
<br />
<b style="font-style: italic;">"As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. '</b><span style="color: #e06666; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Truly I tell you,</span><b style="font-style: italic;">' he said, '</b><span style="color: #e06666; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.</span><b style="font-style: italic;">' </b><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke+21%3A1-4&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Luke 21:1-4</span></a><br />
<i><br /></i>
It's not about the dollar amount. It's all about the heart. <br />
<br />
My husband knows that I give to God each week.<br />
<br />
What he doesn't know is that every week, as I write my name on the outside of that envelope, and place four $1 bills inside, I thank him for allowing me the opportunity to give to God with my heart. <br />
<br />
My husband, without meaning to, has taught me a lesson about giving to God...he taught me to have the heart of the widow.<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-31463259883886754472016-02-15T22:50:00.000-08:002016-02-15T22:50:06.973-08:00More Than a Daughter<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">We know that
we are daughters of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But k</span>nowing that
you are a child of God is one thing, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">b</span>elieving that you are more than just His child is another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I was
fortunate to grow up with a wonderful father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He worked hard so that my brother and I could grow up in a good
neighborhood, and although money was tight, he made sure we never went
without.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my 16<sup>th</sup> birthday
drew near, I would teasingly tell my dad that I wanted a brand new Mustang,
teal in color, with gray interior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Obviously I knew this was something I would never receive, but that was
always my answer when someone asked what I wanted for my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day of my birthday, I came home to find a
car in my driveway. My dad was standing there with a video camera (one of those
huge ones that had to be carried on the shoulder </span><span style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">–</span><span style="mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">remember
those?), ready for my reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beneath
a huge red bow was a Mustang, teal in color, with gray interior. It was not
brand new, in fact, it was pretty old. There were areas of varying teal color
in the paint and for being a Mustang, it had a super small, and slow
engine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">’</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">t notice any
of that when I came home that day. I cried into the camera as I kept repeating,
</span><span style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">we can</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">’</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">t
afford this, we can</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">’</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">t afford this.</span><span style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">”</span><span style="mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">My
dad did the best he could to give me the desires of my heart. He found this old
car, asked a friend to paint it for him, and did his best to keep it a surprise
until my birthday. In that moment, I knew I was more than just his daughter. I
was his treasure.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">That</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">’</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">s
exactly how our Father in heaven feels about each of us. He wants so
desperately to give us the desires of our hearts. It's easy to accept the truth
that we are, in fact, daughters of God, but it's another thing to believe that
He looks at us as more than just His children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are His treasured possessions: </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><i>"For you
are a [daughter] holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you
out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his [daughter], his
treasured possession."</i> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=deut+7%3A6&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">Deut 7:6</span></a></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Let's face it:
our parents didn't get to choose us. They didn't get to piece together our
hearts, select our features or map out our complicated DNA. </span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But our God
carefully shaped each of us...with each individual, He dreamt about and then
created the woman He envisioned us to be. He held <u>your</u> heart in His mighty
hands and said, "she will do great things for me and I want to give her
everything she desires, for she is my treasure." God knew you before the
world did, so if there is anyone who wants to give us all that we desire, it's
the One who loved us first.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="Body" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">You are more
than just a daughter of God. You are His most precious gem, His most treasured
possession, and His dream fulfilled!</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Article originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured on GirlfriendsPray.org)</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-30949793617727968782016-01-25T17:07:00.003-08:002016-01-25T18:47:00.476-08:00Baseball and Bibles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-Bg34D7aYttU_1mwdZMGXSvWnj9Ag4iCBaUpRU9qaaugaYWhlUZbH6Y1QthopSstQJrSnNJmUde9rsTSDCtHfXTbjh5TcfPqh3Ywt_BS9P4ydFTfRUOR4TisjBDpmvOkMhK-NCSrt4Q/s1600/IMG_7750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-Bg34D7aYttU_1mwdZMGXSvWnj9Ag4iCBaUpRU9qaaugaYWhlUZbH6Y1QthopSstQJrSnNJmUde9rsTSDCtHfXTbjh5TcfPqh3Ywt_BS9P4ydFTfRUOR4TisjBDpmvOkMhK-NCSrt4Q/s320/IMG_7750.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My son has been playing baseball since he was 4 years old. A total of 13 seasons, 9 teams, 2 summer tournament teams, and a whole lot of practices. And we're gearing up for his 14th season. I've spent a lot of time sitting in bleachers and I have the horrible tan lines to prove it. I've become a pro at packing ice chests and meals on the go, and I am the baseball mom with the super adorable <a href="http://ruffleswithlove.com/collections/sports/products/all-about-that-base-baseball-tank-choose-your-colors-ruffles-with-love-fun-tank" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">blingy shirts</span></a> because if I'm going to sit out there for hours, I'm going to sparkle while I do it.</div>
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For years we were fortunate to never have a conflict between baseball and church. Practices and games always happened to be scheduled around Sunday mornings and Tuesday evenings. And then, my son started playing with a traveling tournament team. Suddenly there were three games each weekend, two practices each week, and he was only 6 years old. I will never forget the first time I had to make a decision: what do I do? Baseball or bibles? He had to be at the field just as church was ending, but from church to the field was another 30-45 minutes. He would be so late to the field, and at this level of tournament ball, you were late if you showed up on time. </div>
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So, I dressed him in his uniform, packed his gear bag, made sure we had waters in the ice chest, packed our lunches, and headed out the door. I didn't want to be late....to church. I'll be honest, we left service at the last song, we didn't stay to fellowship, but I wanted my son to know that I needed church first.</div>
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We were late to the field. He was placed at the bottom of the lineup. And that's all I remember about that game. But I do remember laughing as we ran to the car after church. I do remember watching my son smile each time someone in the congregation complimented him on his uniform. And I do remember acknowledging that this would be the first time of many to come in which I would have to choose: baseball or bibles.</div>
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We encountered many of these instances over the years, and I have missed several of his games. I've had other baseball moms pick him up from church to go to a game, or drop him off at church after an early morning game.</div>
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Are you wondering why I missed the games and he didn't? Why did I allow him to play in a game and miss church? Don't get me wrong, he's missed more than a few games. But why am I allowing him to play baseball and miss church?</div>
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Because there is a very real battle in my home.</div>
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My husband, although he loves my church family and respects my decision to attend church, doesn't agree with me that bibles come before baseball. Oh girl, if you could've heard the arguments in our home about baseball. You would've thought that we were either signing him up for the MLB or shipping him off on a mission team. We were both adamant about our views of priority. </div>
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I prayed for a long time...about baseball. Who would've ever thought that my prayers would be about baseball. "<i>How can I show my son that You come first? How can I win this battle? Is this a battle I should be fighting? God, help me!</i>" </div>
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Why have I missed so many of his games? Because I have a need to be at church. And my son knows that. My son knows that I will stay to watch his warm-up and a half hour of the game, but then I will leave to go to church. My son knows that he has to wear his uniform to church because immediately afterwards he has a game. My son knows that at 11:00 he will leave church because another baseball mom is picking him up to take him to the game and I will be there later.</div>
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He knows.</div>
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Now, I've had a couple different people, especially my husband, tell me that because I am not making his sport a priority that I am ultimately not making him a priority, which will translate to my son that I do not care about him. And, wow, that has played a significant role in my thought process: "<i>am I doing more harm than good? Am I ultimately making him feel like I don't care?</i>" </div>
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This past fall season, I don't think I saw more than a couple games in their entirety. And <u>all</u> of his games were on Sundays because he plays with a club team. And guess what. He still knows that I love him with an immeasurable passion, and I love his sport. And I love how good he is at playing baseball. And I <u>love</u> to watch him play!</div>
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He also knows that by making God my priority, I am ultimately making him my priority. </div>
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Before the fall season started, I sat down with my son and explained to him why I would not be at every game. It wasn't because I was too busy and it certainly wasn't because I didn't want to be there. I have a need for God in my life. Without God, I'm not a good mother, I'm not a good wife. He's 10 years old now, and I don't expect him to have a full comprehension about what those words mean, but you know what? He will grow up knowing that my need for God comes before anything else. He will grow up knowing that God is and will be my priority. He will grow up knowing that my standard of living is based upon scripture.</div>
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<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/AVvXsEi6NMZnEB2ufqfCZDhEM7g4YlaWF_oKsr5T6sIJXr55WOLv41ryWNv-j-3dh8aerSQx3xJuoWl2JemskMkAqbqSg-yQcuhhCsZl91Kb7-sSdft6B7rxALHgRHUpQRx5rUrWoycNHupWQ_I/s1600/IMG_5025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NMZnEB2ufqfCZDhEM7g4YlaWF_oKsr5T6sIJXr55WOLv41ryWNv-j-3dh8aerSQx3xJuoWl2JemskMkAqbqSg-yQcuhhCsZl91Kb7-sSdft6B7rxALHgRHUpQRx5rUrWoycNHupWQ_I/s320/IMG_5025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son, song leading for the Sunday School teachers before service...in his baseball uniform.<br />
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I'm not always going to win favor with him as he grows older in his baseball career. But right now, he knows and understands that I will always put God first. And you can believe that as soon as church is over, I will be heading straight to the ball field to watch the rest of his game. You better believe that I will wake up early to drive him to the field to watch him warm-up and catch the first hour of the game. (And you better believe that I am praising God for the games that are either late in the afternoon, or on a different day, so I don't have to miss even a minute of them!)<br />
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When my son is older, he will have the privilege (and the conflict) of choosing whether he will live for baseball or bibles...but until then, I pray that I am helping him to see the foundation of my faith. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtPwNXEbTkExCqgcfHeHs5k2FMqIGTIaVSV9_dQAdaBi5yp-wMEBCV_nlkw4KGngDBJmlaCcJqX56R5gAK3p8H4nkEtBwfuPYgLgqszoucA7JT0hbfE1Jq9bZDaA9XxtNwlsjhsuDzl0/s1600/IMG_7712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtPwNXEbTkExCqgcfHeHs5k2FMqIGTIaVSV9_dQAdaBi5yp-wMEBCV_nlkw4KGngDBJmlaCcJqX56R5gAK3p8H4nkEtBwfuPYgLgqszoucA7JT0hbfE1Jq9bZDaA9XxtNwlsjhsuDzl0/s320/IMG_7712.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading into church, baseball and bible ready!</td></tr>
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My son knows that I'm his biggest cheerleader...I don't have to worry about being at every game for him to have confidence in knowing that. Because what I want more than anything is for my son to grow up with the ability to say, "nothing stood in between my mom and God."</div>
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This week begins our 14th season, and my biggest worry isn't about how many games I'll miss or make...it's trying to decide which new <a href="http://ruffleswithlove.com/collections/sports" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">blingy baseball shirt</span></a> I want to wear this season.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJYeCqnYGIiBOgCZznFCXUidnYllcUfNIU_9-4dj8Li6vlRp-1PEXciSKCrhyphenhyphenNe1TgMHlfJydzl8q_RKEc-IlGUEnvkq_5wSmmpaEbPr-3eMBHsrUjHMO7-r8yH70iBqVLk16KRsetpk/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" 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/AVvXsEieJYeCqnYGIiBOgCZznFCXUidnYllcUfNIU_9-4dj8Li6vlRp-1PEXciSKCrhyphenhyphenNe1TgMHlfJydzl8q_RKEc-IlGUEnvkq_5wSmmpaEbPr-3eMBHsrUjHMO7-r8yH70iBqVLk16KRsetpk/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how I roll into church on game days</td></tr>
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xoxo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-25695578111941008992016-01-12T18:20:00.001-08:002016-02-15T09:01:17.641-08:00Everyday of Her Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJMHCo0VI8j4LnlwlL1B4-Mg6EfmG8hYEsA40DHnHaFIFg7SggMk_6SbAGlPCZADntEyW2m1s6Xt9BFc1qPINDHAVNbqL4zvHuROmcjo0q3mfhlODaU5P8wnLfVp6Kli7-x_ONUS8Nvg/s1600/IMG_7452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJMHCo0VI8j4LnlwlL1B4-Mg6EfmG8hYEsA40DHnHaFIFg7SggMk_6SbAGlPCZADntEyW2m1s6Xt9BFc1qPINDHAVNbqL4zvHuROmcjo0q3mfhlODaU5P8wnLfVp6Kli7-x_ONUS8Nvg/s320/IMG_7452.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In my <a href="http://marriedbutspirituallysingle.blogspot.com/2016/01/get-up-and-go-back-in.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">last blog post</span></a> I shared about my grandfather's recent passing and the way in which he inspired me to "get up and go back in" when it came to sharing my faith with others.<br />
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His memorial service was a touching experience. We watched as the Marine Honor Guard presented a flag to my grandmother; we cried, smiled and laughed as photos of him flashed on a screen in front of us, and we beamed with pride as the pastor described my grandfather as being a true man of God. It was a beautiful day.<br />
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That evening my grandmother called me into the hallway near the bedroom of her home. For several moments, we stood embraced in each other's arms as we cried and talked about my grandfather. Many things were said, but something that has stayed with me since leaving her that night was when she said, "I knew he loved me every day of my life. And that's what makes it so hard."<br />
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Now, I've been known to be somewhat of a romantic, and for those who know me, it is known that "words of affirmation" is my primary love language (by the way, if you haven't read "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-Languages-Secret-that-Lasts/dp/080241270X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1452648171&sr=8-1&keywords=5+love+languages" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">The 5 Love Languages," by Gary Chapman</span></a>, <b>please</b> read it - it's amazing), so hearing my grandmother say this spoke so loudly to me. My grandfather was not a soft, squishy "grandpa" type, but when he and I went on dinner dates together, he would speak so highly of my grandmother and I could see how much he valued her. And anyone who spent any length of time with them could always catch a glimpse of Grandad giving Grandma a little pat on the tush every now and then, too. Bottom line, we knew he loved her every day of her life, as well.<br />
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My grandmother knew, with confidence, that my grandfather loved her every day of her life. <br />
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I got to thinking: could my husband say that about me? Could my husband confidently say, "I knew she loved me every day of my life?"<br />
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My grandparents were married for almost 66 years at the time of his passing. I know there is not a marriage out there than can span six decades in complete bliss. He didn't write love poems every day, or recite sonnets regularly. I know they endured hardships, trials and arguments - after all, what marriage doesn't? But every night, my grandfather fell asleep holding her. Every day he loaded and unloaded the dishwasher for her. He took care of their finances. He provided their lifestyle. He spoke love to her with his actions, and she recognized his love for her.<br />
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In order for my grandmother to be able to say that she knew my grandfather loved her, that required two things to happen:<br />
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1) He was diligent about speaking love to her with his actions.<br />
2) She was able to recognize it.<br />
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They both had a part in my grandmother's statement. My grandfather had to act on his love for her, and she had to be able to see love in his actions.<br />
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I once saw a picture on <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/jjosler/" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">Pinterest</span></a> (my favorite website ever) that read, "There are a million ways to say I love you...'buckle your seatbelt,' 'watch your step,' 'get some rest,'...you just have to listen." Isn't that the truth? I have no problem yelling at my kids (for the millionth time) to put on their helmets, and every time they roll their eyes, which prompts me to say, "why do Daddy and I have rules?" To which they reply in a monotone voice, "to keep us safe." Bingo! In other words: because we love you, we want to protect you.<br />
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Like our kids, who misinterpret our display of love, we can often misinterpret our husband's love for us. We may claim to feel that our husbands don't love us because they aren't showing us love the way we think we should receive it. But the reality is that they love us more than anything in the world, we're just not recognizing their "love language."<br />
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Because my primary love language is "words of affirmation," I feel the most loved when someone speaks lovingly to me or about me. I cherish notes and cards; I even cherish text messages and voicemails! Anything that involves words will speak loudly to me...which is both a good thing and a bad thing. I can be lifted up or torn down with a simple sentence. <br />
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"Words of affirmation" is definitely <u>not</u> my husband's love language. His love language is "acts of service," which means that he feels the most loved when I do something of service to him (for example, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, etc). For my husband, when he comes home from work to see his hamper is empty and all his clothes are clean, it's as though I covered his closet with love bubbles and confetti hearts. But when he has come home to find the clean dishes still in the dishwasher, he translates that as I don't care enough about him to take care of him. <br />
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Ok, are you thinking what I first thought when discovering his love language? "Typical man. Wants things done for him and all I'm asking for is a love note." Here's the thing: my husband will spend his days off working around the house, fixing things that need to be done...because he loves me. I've come home from work and he is beaming with excitement to show me the light he put in my closet. Because his love language is "acts of service," he shows me love by the things he does for me - as he "serves" me. <br />
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But I have to recognize it.<br />
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Sure, anybody can look at that and say, "well, yeah! He should be doing things like that! He's a man! He's a provider! That's his nature!" But not every man is like that. Some men don't know how to install new light fixtures or electrical boxes, and that's ok. I can promise that they have different love languages.<br />
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Clearly you can see that I am wordy person. I can take 20 pages and tell my husband all the things I love about him. I can find the most perfect card and write a deeply heartfelt note inside...and even though I know he greatly appreciates it, he is more impacted by knowing I took care of something in the house so he didn't have to do it. <br />
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Here's how the translation looks:<br />
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"Jennifer took care of the car today = she did that so I wouldn't have to = she loves me and cares about me."<br />
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"Ryan sent me a text and used the heart emoji = he's thinking about me = he loves me and cares about me."<br />
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I'm speaking words, he's speaking service. I'm not always going to speak his language, and he is not always going to speak mine. But we have to be able to recognize when we are translating our love to each other. <br />
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Getting back to my grandparents, my grandmother had to do her part to be able to confidently say that she knew she was loved every day, and my grandfather had to do his part in showing his love for her daily. <br />
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How about you? Could your husband confidently say that you loved him every day of his life? Are you speaking his love language? And do you recognize when he is showing love to you? <br />
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I'm still learning how to recognize our different love languages...it's something that makes me wish I had a pocket translator. <br />
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But, if someone were to ask me today, I can confidently say that despite our hard days, I know that my husband has loved me every day of my life...because I can recognize his love.<br />
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Your language may be different than your husband's, and most likely it is, but like any foreign language, if you learn to speak it, and learn to listen to it, you will see how very loved you are.<br />
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Every day of your life.<br />
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xoxo<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-67591949409067697982016-01-03T17:40:00.000-08:002016-01-05T10:00:33.225-08:00Get Up and Go Back In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUzm3ey1O-2OUNAbGaYoosSvAXdYN0K_i56OV-Vg8VVxzvxNMSUcmcMOWSg6JwJSyaz79Qu5USXwwnmyapzclRs7V1pQXZsFFsjC7JsbYGKfzNYTRJelqen2fm69WJBQWu3JSfUGkNUY/s1600/10350349_10154631017993561_226029644098763105_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUzm3ey1O-2OUNAbGaYoosSvAXdYN0K_i56OV-Vg8VVxzvxNMSUcmcMOWSg6JwJSyaz79Qu5USXwwnmyapzclRs7V1pQXZsFFsjC7JsbYGKfzNYTRJelqen2fm69WJBQWu3JSfUGkNUY/s320/10350349_10154631017993561_226029644098763105_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I've been staring at a blank page for quite some time now. Tons of thoughts are running through my head but seem impossible to put on paper. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Just a few days ago, we were forced to say good-bye to my grandfather, the true patriarch of our family. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer only a couple months ago, and already we are suffering the loss of this great man. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I was privileged to grow up with his presence in my life, whether it was flying down the lake in his fishing boat, or trying to encourage me because I was wearing a very unflattering baby doll dress, or shining up his Cadillac to chauffeur my new husband and I to our hotel after our wedding, Grandad has consistently had a presence in my life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">My Grandad always exuded strength and confidence; he appeared to be a man whose core couldn't be shaken. His hugs were strong, and his pats on the back felt like gentle spankings. He was a former Marine. He worked his way to the top of a corporation. He was not only well-liked, but he commanded respect without having to ask for it. I knew that when he spoke, he meant business. As a young girl, I was convinced that my grandfather didn't have a soft spot anywhere in (or on) his body. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Growing up, it was common knowledge that Grandad and Grandma went to church every Sunday. My family would join them on Easter Sunday, and occasionally I would tag along if I happened to be staying with them during summer. My parents did not attend church regularly, so the most I knew about church was that I wasn't allowed to talk, nor was I allowed to have some of the crackers and juice that was being passed around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">And then I became an adult. And then I became a Christian. And then, my grandfather opened his soft heart to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">A few years back, my children and I went to visit my grandparents. With two small children in tow, it was difficult to find a quiet moment to spend with my grandparents, but somehow, my grandfather and I stumbled upon an afternoon that allowed the two of us to talk privately. What began as small talk about the church I was attending, slowly grew into a profound discussion about God, faith, and our job to deliver the truth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">There were two things I saw in my grandfather during that conversation: his conviction, and vulnerability. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">He was deeply convicted about the truth of God's word, as well as the urgency to share truth with those whom he loved the most. But in his boldness was also his vulnerability. He handed me one of several printed packets that were sitting on his desk. He shared with me that he spent hours poring over his words as he prepared to send these packets to those whom he loved. My grandfather asked me to proofread his work for him. He shared with me his fear of pushing loved ones away because he was daring to be so bold. He asked me to read it carefully, not just for another set of eyes to seek correction, but to make sure he didn't sound unloving or harsh. In his voice I could hear his fear, but behind the quiver in his tone, was the strength of his faith. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">As I began to read the pages of his packet, I could see the heart he placed in every word. Scripture was quoted, Jesus's words were in red, and every truth, every promise, was laid bare for the recipients to read.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">After reading the work of my grandfather's heart, I returned the packet to him as he looked at me with eager eyes. I could tell he was anxious to know what I thought about his work, but more importantly, what I thought about his need to send these packets out into the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">As I left to return home, I could feel a difference in my grandfather's hug. I'm not sure if the hug was tighter because we connected deeper than we ever had before, or because we had this little secret that had not been exposed yet, but whatever the reason, I knew that his hug was the pivoting moment of our relationship.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I'm not sure whatever happened with those packets. I know he mailed them out, but to this day, I do not know how they were received. One thing I do know is that for the next few years following that conversation, my grandfather did not stop speaking the truth. He got back up and kept going. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">The day after he received his diagnosis, I spent a half hour on the phone with him. I sat in the parking lot of a supermarket as I listened to him cry...but he wasn't crying about his fate. What brought him to tears was not the fear of death, but the fear of not seeing his loved ones in heaven one day. He cried to me that he had spoken truthfully to family members about their destiny and he feared that he hurt them in the process. Many words were shared between us in those thirty minutes, but as he pulled himself together, he said to me, "if we don't tell them, who will?" And again, he got back up and kept going.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Tonight has been a night filled with reflection about those two profound conversations I shared with my grandfather. And as I looked back, admiring his boldness, I was reminded of a story about Paul in the book of Acts. In Acts, chapter 14, Paul and Barnabas are preaching in Jewish synagogues...talk about a rough audience. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">"<i>At Iconium, Paul and Barnabas went as usual into the Jewish synagogue. There they spoke so effectively that a great number of Jews and Greek believed. But the Jews who refused to believe stirred up the Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brothers. So, Paul and Barnabas spent considerable time there, speaking boldly for the Lord. ... There was a plot afoot among the Gentiles and Jews, together with their leaders, to mistreat them and stone them. But they found out about it and fled to the Lycaonian cities of Lystra and Derbe and to the surrounding country, where they continued to preach the good news. ... Then some Jews came from Antioch and Iconium and won the crowds over. They stoned Paul and dragged him outside the city, thinking he was dead. But after the disciples had gathered around him, he <b>got up and</b> <b>went back into the city.</b></i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2014:1-20" target="_blank">Acts 14:1-20</a> [emphasis added by me]</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">A few things that strike me when I read this:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">1) "as usual..." - I love this. It was so common for Paul to place himself in Jewish synagogues that even scripture records it as being his usual behavior. That's how frequently Paul was putting himself in, what I imagine could've been, uncomfortable situations to spread God's truth. Have you ever done that? My grandfather certainly did when he mailed out those packets....and I'm sure what could be heard was, "as usual, here he is talking about church and God again."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">2) "So, ...spent considerable time, speaking boldly for the Lord..." - Paul and Barnabas were being challenged! I know we've all encountered that before. What do we do when we are challenged? Do we give up? Or do we spend considerable time speaking boldly to our challengers? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">3) "...continued to preach the good news...." - ok, Paul and Barnabas are being threatened, so they decide to let the area cool down a bit, but they don't stop preaching. Have you ever encountered someone like that? The discussion about God becomes heated, so you have to walk away for a bit and let it cool down. But does that discourage you from continuing to share? Do you stop preaching? Or do you let that heart cool down while you travel along and continue to share God's word? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">4) "...won the crowds over...stoned Paul and dragged him outside the city, thinking he was dead..." - That heated heart found some friends and is now traveling in packs to take you down. I've encountered that before; one person says one thing, who tells another, who tells another, and before you know it, people are accusing you of being judgmental, self-righteous and arrogant. You are verbally "stoned," with sharp comments being thrown at you to hurt you and make you give up.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">5) "...got up and went back into the city..." - Paul had every reason to walk away after being stoned and left for dead. I don't think anybody would've thought negatively about Paul if scripture read that he got up and left the city. But he did the exact opposite. He got up - and went back in. Do you do that when you've been emotionally "stoned?" Do you get up and walk away, or do you get up, brush off the hurt, and walk back in?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I am so proud of my grandfather because, like Paul, he got up, brushed off the hurt and walked back into the city. I know that as he poured his heart out into those packets he waited with an anxious heart. That was many years ago, and I know that as days, months and years passed, he kept waiting. He could've allowed the lack of response to discourage him from continuing to share, but he didn't. He continued to preach. On the day he was given the news of his diagnosis, he could've thrown in the towel and said, "oh well, I tried." But instead, he spoke words of truth. He brushed off the hurt and went back into the city. Paul had an urgency to share God's truth with the citizens in that city, he didn't let the emotional or physical hurt stop him from talking about God. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">My grandfather had an urgency to share God's truth with those whom he loved the most, and he didn't let the emotional, or physical, hurt stop him from talking about God. He got up and went back in.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I am so proud to be his granddaughter. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I pray that for all the days of my life I find the courage to be bold enough that scripture could record my sharing as being "usual" of my character. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Thank you, Grandad, for not letting fear trump truth. Thank you for getting up and going back in to finish what God desired of you. Thank you for loving all of us enough to speak with a bold heart for our Lord. And thank you for showing me what it means to "get up and go back in."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">I'll see you again, Grandad...save me a seat. :)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">xoxo</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-34902598696774188412015-11-28T22:01:00.002-08:002015-11-28T22:12:28.238-08:00Christmas in the Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1X8NKEQvLPznn_QM_xyRSNnw594101UxBlqoWtvwvgiFqWm45lVJjZWo2aPunGl6lWqxlkdRUxkzjuV4KrJjJ0Oc6zbpVWRnntle6zJq0Nl-dmXVe0qP8qKm6hyphenhyphen__m6qF0I-TJhi4Us/s1600/11559325536_9ecb0ee2b8_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1X8NKEQvLPznn_QM_xyRSNnw594101UxBlqoWtvwvgiFqWm45lVJjZWo2aPunGl6lWqxlkdRUxkzjuV4KrJjJ0Oc6zbpVWRnntle6zJq0Nl-dmXVe0qP8qKm6hyphenhyphen__m6qF0I-TJhi4Us/s320/11559325536_9ecb0ee2b8_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love Christmas movies, and one of the lines in a particular
movie really struck a chord with me:<o:p></o:p></div>
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“If Christmas is in the heart, then Christmas is in the
air.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the
holiday season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are gifts to
purchase, cookies to bake, cards to mail, family to visit, and many other
things that involve the holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it
can be a wonderful thing, or a stressful thing, depending upon whether or not
Christmas is in your heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When you think of the holidays, do you become overwhelmed
with the list of things to do, or do you become overwhelmed with excitement for
Christmas and what it means?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here is a quick list of practicals to help keep Christmas in
your heart:</div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">* </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Start
Early</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – If you’re just now starting, don’t fret.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Just start now!</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Plan one thing to conquer each day.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Don’t overwhelm yourself by looking at the
whole list of things to do, pick one and focus on that. Home from work early
tonight? Maybe you could put up that garland you meant to do yesterday.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">* </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Plan
Ahead</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – I keep a list of all the people that I buy for each year, and as
ideas pop into my head or they mention something in conversation, I write it
down. By the time I’m ready to hit the sales, I already know what I’m going to
buy, that way it takes away the stress of trying to think of a gift at the last
minute.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">* </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Freeze</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">!</span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I use my freezer so much I should
change my name to Princess Elsa.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I
freeze everything!</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Mashed potatoes for
Christmas dinner? I make a huge batch and freeze it!</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cookie dough?</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I made a ton of it on a quiet weekend and it’s sitting in my freezer
ready to be cut into cute little Christmas shapes! If you can make it, you can
freeze it!</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And it will relieve the
stress of having to make everything “right now!”</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">* </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bought
it</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">? </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Wrap It.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – Bought a gift?
Awesome. Wrap it as soon as you get home.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I become very grouchy when I have to spend an entire night wrapping
gifts when I know there are other things that need to get done.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">* </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Remember
what you’re celebrating</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – you know that saying, “keep Christ in Christmas?”
Remember what it is that we are actually celebrating. Sure, the gifts, the
goodies and the decorations are magical…but nothing surpasses the true magic of
the reason behind the season.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">Keep Christmas in your heart, so that everyone
around you can feel Christmas in the air!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria"; text-align: center;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(This article was originally written by Jennifer Osler to be featured on GirlfriendsPray.org)</span></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-70378243218160517932015-11-04T22:54:00.001-08:002015-11-05T06:01:53.344-08:00"But My Teacher Said..."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIFdmoWDaoj3vc1AqlaWR89PlqbPSFxhTnoj10DAAgZsjd-aXl_4HNiRDCZeA6nMiPUGwfYZ-l4gjy-_bktFWY5cHPpq80SzAE4vZOEYzIeNww9J8liaXvEdPfiy6F0jwcBsCT_CFBsk/s1600/Queensland_State_Archives_1640_Kelvin_Grove_State_School_Teacher_and_Class_April_1951.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIFdmoWDaoj3vc1AqlaWR89PlqbPSFxhTnoj10DAAgZsjd-aXl_4HNiRDCZeA6nMiPUGwfYZ-l4gjy-_bktFWY5cHPpq80SzAE4vZOEYzIeNww9J8liaXvEdPfiy6F0jwcBsCT_CFBsk/s320/Queensland_State_Archives_1640_Kelvin_Grove_State_School_Teacher_and_Class_April_1951.png" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">I am one of those
moms. The moms who side with the teacher.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">My daughter made it
all the way through elementary school without any problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is an excellent student and she loves
school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kindergarten through 5<sup>th</sup>
grade was a breeze; I became friends with every one of her teachers. We</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">re
sushi buddies, Facebook friends and concert goers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then we entered 6<sup>th</sup>
grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right away my daughter began
enjoying her new teacher, and I wasn</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">t surprised because
she</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">s liked every teacher she</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">s
ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she was happy, I was happy.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Then one day she
came home, looking somewhat confused.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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“<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Mama, my teacher
said that the story of Jonah and the whale is impossible.</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">I was thankful that
she waited until after I swallowed my iced tea because it would</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">ve
come shooting out of my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked
how the topic came up in the classroom, and she told me, </span>“<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">we</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">re
learning about mythology.</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
“<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">What else did your
teacher say about it?</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
“<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Well, he also said
that we weren</span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">t created by some God, but that we
were made from one molecule and we evolved. He said that God is a part of
mythology.</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Whoa whoa whoa</span>…<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">.someone get the principal on the
phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so angry at the teacher for
saying something like this to his entire classroom of 11 year old kids.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">I had two options:</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Get angry and let my daughter know I'm
angry.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">See this an opportunity to discover
her own convictions. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Although the first
option was the natural and most appealing at the time, I knew it wasn't the
right choice. By getting angry I would only be teaching my daughter that we
should get angry with anyone who doesn't agree with our beliefs. Talk about
setting her up for severe disappointment because the truth is that she will
encounter people like her teacher throughout her lifetime. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">So I began our
conversation with this: "what do you think to be true?" She bravely
gave me an honest answer, "well, some of the stuff in the bible does seem
to be, uh, a little farfetched." ("Farfetched," huh? That was
definitely a new word from my 11 year old's mouth...wonder where it came from?)</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">I felt myself
beginning to pray before I even realized what I was doing. I needed wisdom and
I needed God to use His words because I was pretty sure I would mess it up with
words of my own. My daughter and I spent the next hour dissecting God's word
and talking about her convictions, not mine. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Here's some
practicals for when this happens:</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">don't get angry</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">. All throughout our lives our faith
will be challenged. I'm sure you can think of many instances in which you've
encountered a similar situation and there you are, left to come up with answers
and defend your beliefs. Anger never helps. It merely translates that if the
other person disagrees, we are prepared to enter battle. And that is not
something we want to teach our children. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";"><br></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Ask for an honest answer, and be
loving when you receive it.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">
My daughter was very honest with me as she shared with me some areas of the
bible that were difficult for her to grasp. If we're being honest, there's been
a time or two when I've read something and thought, "really?" We all
know whose whispers those are in our ears. Doubt = the enemy. He wants us to
doubt the validity of God's word. But the truth is that when we have questions,
it means that our hearts and our minds are trying to understand God's word and
that is never a bad thing! Questions create curiosity and curiosity creates
seeking answers, which leads us to deeper studies in God's word. So, amen!
Bring on the questions!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";"><br></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">When have you seen God work?</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";"> This was my favorite part of our
conversation. I asked my daughter about the times she knew that God was working
in her life. "How have you seen God?" Oh man, she came up with an
astounding list. Even down to the night her hamster escaped from its cage (sneaky
little thing); it had been missing all day long - nobody could find this
Houdini of rodents. When I tucked her in that night, we prayed that the hamster
would make its way home. Wouldn't you know it - not even 2 seconds after
praying, that hamster was just sitting out in the middle of the hallway! Just
sitting there like, "oh hey, I've been here the whole time." To my
daughter, that was proof of God listening to our prayers. When your child comes
to you with doubt, have him/her recall all the ways they have seen God work in
their lives or the lives of others.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";"><br></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 19.65pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list 19.65pt; text-indent: -19.65pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Pray</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">. God's wisdom is incredible. And He will gladly pour it
onto you. All we have to do is ask for it. Don't enter into a conversation like
this with your child (or any person seeking answers) without first going to God
in prayer. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="Body">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">By the end of our
conversation, my daughter realized that her convictions about God were hers.
Not mine, not our pastor's, not her friends. Hers. And now she is ready to
encounter more people like her teacher because she knows that all she needs to
do is go back to God.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I ended our conversation with this little bitty for
her to think about..."it takes more faith to believe in nothing than to
believe in something." She smiled and said, "he doesn't even realize
how faithful he really is."</span><!--EndFragment-->
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(This article was originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured on GirlfriendsPray.org)</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-85899278352062251242015-10-20T22:50:00.000-07:002015-11-03T18:51:36.720-08:00Broken but Untouched<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3JpApxI8krD3xMxvNAbwvJBT-WbzTwGAcYTFNU2-tjEfW_I4IL90fdDN35Svw7RR5CRp9WyRvXP9EpAit8Liag01oKGfM8xi6Z0DK8ELC4Z-O5HEzxT3k7XJWLyhTTj04sJjY7j2FKo/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3JpApxI8krD3xMxvNAbwvJBT-WbzTwGAcYTFNU2-tjEfW_I4IL90fdDN35Svw7RR5CRp9WyRvXP9EpAit8Liag01oKGfM8xi6Z0DK8ELC4Z-O5HEzxT3k7XJWLyhTTj04sJjY7j2FKo/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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Today I was broken. It was just one of those days when I felt about as worthy as gum stuck to my shoe. I felt emotionally challenged and spiritually disconnected. It was just not a good day.</div>
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Over a year ago I walked through an art fair. I had never been to one and it was a day when I was feeling exactly this way: emotionally drained and spiritually exhausted. The very first booth that I walked by was the booth of a photographer whose work featured old barns, cornfields, and other country sights I just don’t get to see here in southern California. As I was skimming through some of his prints, I was falling in love with all the various colors in each photo. The photographer approached me and asked if I was enjoying my time at the fair. I answered that I had never been to an art fair before and that his booth was my first stop. He began to tell me that he loves to travel across the country, looking for things like these battered barns, and photographing them. He said, “these old things are run down because nobody needs them anymore, but there is still so much beauty in each one.” Then he pulled out a photo that had been tucked away in a pile. He said, “I was driving down the road when I saw this red barn. I could tell that it had been abandoned for a while. I walked all around it, shooting pictures from various angles and I noticed this! Inside the window is a picture of Jesus. You can see in the picture that someone, kids I’m assuming, was using the barn as target practice, but that painting of Jesus was totally intact. Not a single hole in that painting. Look! Even the window was part of target practice. But that painting was perfect. I had to photograph it.” </div>
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I held that picture in my hand and before I knew it, I was asking him how much he was asking in price for his work. I could hear his smile as he said, “That’s the one, huh?” I didn’t even look up at him, I stared at the photo and said, “this is the one.” I paid the photographer, I left his booth and looked towards the rest of the booths lined up for the street fair, then I walked to my car and went home.</div>
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I found what I was supposed to get.</div>
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I will never forget that day because I remember feeling completely broken. There were many factors that led up to this feeling, but to sum it up: I was broken, and spiritually disconnected. </div>
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I felt like the old barn. Worn down, abandoned, still standing, but pierced with injury. But inside the heart of the old barn was Jesus. Untouched, still standing, and perfect. Sometimes it’s so easy to forget who is in the heart of my soul. On the days that I am feeling worn down, abandoned and pierced with injury, there is a perfect love within me.</div>
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We all have those days. Nothing particular needs to happen to cause days when we feel like the old barn. Sometimes we just feel that way. Other times there is a specific cause behind our emotional challenge or spiritual disconnect. No matter the cause, we all have felt those days. Everyone, regardless of sex, age or lifestyle, experiences these days. Bad days are not prejudice, everyone has them. But not everyone has a perfect love within them to get them through the bad days.</div>
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You do. I do.</div>
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As a Christian, we know the go-to scriptures when we’re having a bad day:</div>
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“<i>The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.</i>” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm+34%3A18&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Psalm 34:18</span></a></div>
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“<i>Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”</i> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+11%3A28&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Matthew 11:28</span></a></div>
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“<i>I can do everything through him who gives me strength.</i>” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=philippians+4%3A13&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Philippians 4:13</span></a></div>
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“’<i>For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</i>” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=jeremiah+29%3A11&version=NIV" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Jeremiah 29:11</span></a></div>
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And many more go-to scriptures that we easily hand out when someone is having a bad day, including ourselves. They are all incredible scriptures and I am so thankful for each and every one. I love knowing that God wanted to make sure we knew and understood that He is here for us on our bad days.</div>
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But sometimes, those go-to scriptures aren’t enough. Whether it’s because we know them so well or because it’s the 834th time we’ve heard them, sometimes we read it or say it with the “yeah yeah yeah” kind of attitude. I know I’m guilty of that. </div>
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That is when we desperately need to talk to God. When His word is not enough to satisfy our soul, we need to go directly to the author.</div>
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The day that I went to the fair was preceded by days when I simply refused to go to God. I couldn’t form words, I couldn’t gather prayer, I just couldn’t go there. But the beautiful thing about God is that He doesn’t need us to speak. He knows our hearts so intimately that when the words are difficult to form, He shapes them for us. God knew what I needed that day. He knew that I need the visual reminder that He is within me.</div>
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And He knows exactly what you need, too.</div>
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Like that painting inside the worn, abandoned and injured barn, Jesus is perfect in you. He is untouched, unharmed and standing firm. You and I may be worn on the outside, but His perfect love remains unharmed inside of our hearts. </div>
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Don’t get discouraged when you are feeling emotionally drained and spiritually challenged…you have a perfect painting of love, strength and grace that is standing firm for you. And even if you can't find the words, He is sitting so close to you, that He hears each thought behind every beat of your heart. </div>
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You need only to be still and listen...</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-91634630283938804672015-10-17T22:50:00.000-07:002015-10-17T22:50:03.481-07:00We Have a Winner!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-nbm1a_lb5-ptlHurdDrc3ss88nZy0TCmlC-Mhk1z-DPk-3yPQ9CVyBnff24msI0AnG4y5Iqt4sZvD82qEd5ZWCdG6PUKdjIfrSLTEqnXTYd-4DlYNct12z4elEaFCx4msSnIr0rqBQ/s320/giveaway.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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A winner has been selected!!</div>
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Using RandomPicker.com, each subscriber's email address was manually entered (by me, of course), and a winner was chosen by random draw.</div>
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I have emailed the winner:</div>
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Me***********o@*****.com</div>
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So if you received an email from me,</div>
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CONGRATULATIONS!</div>
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I love having giveaways and it may be something we do more often!</div>
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New blog posts are coming - have you been checking out GirlfriendsPray.org?</div>
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I am a regular contributor for their website, and I have a heartfelt blog post coming up...</div>
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It will be published on their site on October 19th.</div>
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Make sure to check it out!</div>
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Congratulations, again, to our winner!</div>
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And thank you, each of you, for your continued love and support!</div>
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Xoxo</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-49011597796276710542015-10-14T23:09:00.001-07:002015-10-14T23:09:35.644-07:00Giveaway!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszl9T8QzGZcIzStnM7MbjwtFJSjvTwn5ni2PIO5JjVQOlLjXtKCO4pd1ZJhyClDpLgSo0g1IXFNTccSwlyEFlfloqeO4Fi6nFLkk3omR3jdld0pvOWSPtNzbtZfNbSYDUjVyk-xc99Cw/s1600/giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszl9T8QzGZcIzStnM7MbjwtFJSjvTwn5ni2PIO5JjVQOlLjXtKCO4pd1ZJhyClDpLgSo0g1IXFNTccSwlyEFlfloqeO4Fi6nFLkk3omR3jdld0pvOWSPtNzbtZfNbSYDUjVyk-xc99Cw/s320/giveaway.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is so exciting and it's something <u>just</u> for my email subscribers! I have done a couple of giveaways on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SpirituallySingleWife/" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> and it has been very fun - I love being able to give gifts to you because I am so appreciative and grateful for your support and encouragement!</div>
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So, if you are reading this blog post in your email - you are already entered in the giveaway! If you'd like to share my blog with your friends and tell them about the giveaway, here are the simple rules:</div>
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1) Subscribe to my blog (subscription box is on the right side of the blog page. Make sure you and your friends confirm your subscription to the blog!)</div>
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2) Wait to find out who will be the lucky winner!</div>
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For this giveaway, I am sending a copy of one of my favorite books, "Open My Eyes, Lord" by Erica Kim, a journal and a Starbucks gift card! It's perfect material for some quality "you" time. </div>
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I am going to randomly select a winner on Saturday, October 17th and will announce the winner on the blog - so make sure to check your emails and the blog! </div>
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Thank you so much for your support - without you, I couldn't keep going and pushing through - your encouragement is what inspires me!</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(and now for the small print: Winner will be selected at random via RandomPicker.com. Contest is open to US residents only. Blogger.com, Starbucks, and the author/publisher of "Open My Eyes, Lord" are not affiliated with this giveaway. If the winner does not contact me within 48 hours of announcement, a new winner will be selected at random)</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-83346787114119009762015-09-19T22:21:00.001-07:002015-09-21T19:16:17.882-07:00Who is Lord?<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I </span><span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">remember the day of my baptism 14 years ago, how can anyone forget a day like that? I remember confessing for all to hear that Jesus is Lord. I said those words with a deep conviction that nothing would come before the Lord.</span><span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> I knew in my heart that I would never place a job, a person, a hobby or anything else above Jesus becau</span><span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">se he was the Lord of my life. And then life happened.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">“Lord” is a word that we use so frequently that sometimes the power behind its meaning is lost. It’s so easy to talk about the Lord. But why do we call him “</span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold;">Lord</span><span class="s4">?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lord: someone or something having power, authority or influence.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I would definitely agree that our Lord is exactly that. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Creator, and the King. He is LORD. Everything we do should be centered around Him. That’s what it means to make Him the Lord of our lives. Our God should have the power, authority and influence on every aspect of our lives.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is he the Lord of your life?</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or is something or someone else holding lordship?</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What or who influences your decision making?</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, let me ask you this: do you think your husband is Lord? </span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m confident that you answered that question just like I did: no way.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then I had to re-evaluate my answer. Without realizing it, I made my husband Lord of my life. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">“That’s not a bad thing, girl!” Is that what you’re thinking?</span><span class="s4"> Because that’s what I would be thinking.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God is our Lord. We proclaimed that, we confessed that and we believe that.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our husbands come next…after our Lord.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">But here is what I noticed happening in my life: I started declining church events. I would save my time with God for later if my husba</span><span class="s4">nd wanted me to make breakfast. </span><span class="s4">My moods were based on my husband’s moods. My joy was dependent on my husband. My confidence </span><span class="s4">was lacking because I </span><span class="s4">needed validation from</span><span class="s4"> my husband.</span><span class="s4"> </span><span class="s4">My quiet time with God was rushed because my husband wanted to go for a walk. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Notice a pattern?</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My husband had power, authority and influence over my decision making. Maybe he realized it, maybe he didn’t. But one thing is for sure: he became the Lord of my life.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is where it’s tough, especially for spiritually single women. Where is the boundary between honoring our husbands and making him Lord? </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">E</span><span class="s4">very time I would allow my husband to influence my spiritual decision making, I justified it like this: “but I’m being a respectful wife, I am respecting my husband and his needs,” which was absolutely true and not necessarily bad. But at what cost? </span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who is my Lord?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">Jesus tells us: </span><span class="s5" style="font-style: italic;">“…seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+6%3A33-34&version=NIV" target="_blank">Matthew 6:33-34</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">Let me place emphasis on the first two words of that scripture: </span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold;">seek first</span><span class="s4">. What are we supposed to </span><span class="s4">seek first? </span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold;">His kingdom and his righteousness</span><span class="s4">. And God will take care of the rest. But we have to seek Him first and wholeheartedly. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">Know what held me back from seeking first God’s kingdom and his righteousness? </span><span class="s6" style="text-decoration: underline;">Fear</span><span class="s4">. I was afraid to tell my husband that I was going to a bible study. I was afraid to tell my husband that the first Saturday of every month is our women’s bible talk. I was afraid to tell my husband that I would love to make breakfast for him after my time with God. I was afraid to tell my husband that I’d rather go to church on a Tuesday night than out to dinner with him. Fear is what made my husband Lord of my life.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">The refreshing thing about this is God’s promise immediately after asking us to seek Him first: “do not worry.” God blesses our lives when our decisions are based on Him. I remember when I made the decision to tell my husband that I was going to our women’s bible talk, regardless of the </span><span class="s4">fact that he had been working the last 4 days </span><span class="s4">away from home and he would be coming home that morning. I was so scared, I knew an argument was coming, but I trusted that God would bless my decision to seek his kingdom first. And wouldn’t you know it, not only was my husband okay with me going, but now he knows that women’s bible talk is just something that I do each month. It’s no longer something I need to fear. God delivered me because I kept Him as the Lord of my life when I made that decision.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">There is a fine boundary between respecting the needs of our husbands and making them the Lord of our lives.</span><span class="s4"> But by seeking first God’s kingdom and his righteousness, we are ultimately meeting the needs of our husbands because our husbands </span><span class="s6" style="text-decoration: underline;">need God</span><span class="s4">.</span><span class="s4"> Going after God first and allowing his presence and authority to influence our </span><span class="s4">decisions</span><span class="s4"> make us better wives...and what man doesn’t want that? </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">Go after God</span><span class="s4"> first</span><span class="s4">. Seek him fiercely, seek him earnes</span><span class="s4">tly a</span><span class="s4">nd seek him wholeheartedly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">Don’t give in to fear. You are a daughter before you are a wife</span><span class="s4">. And your Father wants to give you the desires of your heart. Trust Him and allow Him to be the only Lord of your life.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Xoxo</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(This article was originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured on GirlfriendsPray.org)</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-79831567362646937182015-08-26T22:28:00.002-07:002015-08-26T22:29:14.705-07:00Connected Hearts<div class="s2" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHYpG0hz-P9ClwGOECLsTPauaRbGzwXzwiUegHb_feXrJCqL-D04MR47d1ibqOFK0Fh1Obn2QcGqg4-xKec1trye1wZaFGmuIuSB6owogVXzwmZsOH7rqfSNL7C6PzptzYKODedGbn0Y/s640/blogger-image--149246372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHYpG0hz-P9ClwGOECLsTPauaRbGzwXzwiUegHb_feXrJCqL-D04MR47d1ibqOFK0Fh1Obn2QcGqg4-xKec1trye1wZaFGmuIuSB6owogVXzwmZsOH7rqfSNL7C6PzptzYKODedGbn0Y/s400/blogger-image--149246372.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“<i>And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another…” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+10%3A24-25&version=NIV" target="_blank">Hebrews 10:24-25</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Relationships are a vital part of our walk with God. Throughout the bible, God puts emphasis on relationships. His relationship with us, our relationship with our spiritual family, our relationship with our physical family, relationships with sinners, relationships between husbands and wives, children and parents, truly, He left no relationship untouched.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why do you think He did that? What’s the big deal about relationships with each other? Can’t we do this on our own?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">No way, sister. We cannot do this</span><span class="s4"> on our own and God knew that. </span><span class="s4">Every conversion story in the bible involves at least one other person! </span><span class="s4">The new testament talks about how the Christians met together, studied God’s word together and met each other’s needs. Keep in mind that t</span><span class="s4">he story that did involve only one person (Adam) ended with a partner by his side. God knew then that it was not good for man to be alone (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+1%3A15-25&version=NIV" target="_blank">Genesis 1:15-25</a>). So from the beginning of time, God has emphasized the importance of relationships.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why? Because we need each other.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why are you here today? What brought you to this blog?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">You want </span><span class="s4">inspiration</span><span class="s4">. You need </span><span class="s4">encouragement. You want to know that you are not alone as you walk through this life. You want someone to pray with, someone who understands what you are going through. You want to connect.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At least, that's the reason I'm here. I know there are many women out there who face the same struggles that I do, and I need the encouragement of their faith.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every time that I have tried to tackle something on my own, I fail. Every time! You may think to yourself, “not me, girl. I’ve been doing this alone for years.” While that may be true to some degree (for instance, I’ve been doing the spiritual walk alone in my marriage for years), it’s not entirely true.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would not be as faithful if it weren’t for my sisters in Christ. </span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would not be as fruitful if it weren’t for my church family.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">I would n</span><span class="s4">ot continue to persevere if it</span><span class="s4"> weren’t for my spiritual family.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I need them. I need to stay connected to them.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am constantly calling or texting my girlfriends on the daily. If I run into a bump with my husband, I reach out to a sister in Christ. A situation with my pre-teen daughter (Lord help all the moms of pre-teen girls), I’m on the phone with a sister: “help me out. How do I handle this?”</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And why do I call a sister in Christ before I call a friend of the world?</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because she has my best interest in mind. She’s running the same race that I am. She will help me stay on the straight and narrow path.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="s4">I’ve completed the Los Angeles Marathon twice. Both times I ran the race with my best friend, who also is my sister in Christ (can I get an amen?). The races were brutal. Our legs were killing us, our bodies did not appreciate our effort and we were exhausted. But when we saw that finish line drawing near, we grabb</span><span class="s4">ed each other’s hand and we ran, with whatever energy we had left, </span><span class="s4">across that finish line. Despite the hurt and desire to quit</span><span class="s4"> several times throughout the race</span><span class="s4">, we both knew that we wouldn’t allow the other to stop. We were going to finish this together. And we did. Hand in hand. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are in the marathon of your spiritual life. </span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Find your racing partner and run towards your crown.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reach out. Connect. And keep going.</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The race is much easier when you have a cheerleader by your side telling you,</span></div>
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<span class="s4" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Keep going, don’t stop. I’m right here and we’re in this together.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">(This article was originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured as a guest blog post on <a href="http://girlfriendspray.org/2015/05/connected-hearts/">GirlfriendsPray.org</a>)</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-59851114807395509202015-08-11T13:16:00.001-07:002015-08-11T23:20:06.176-07:00On the Grid!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEika-BO1p5laqV3arqUTSZ21TbHhZP9Kzy1lJMLoZCxFP2SW6oAsCIMPbqXmAELRCwjaWJkiYmK8J3SjPEpSjQ5RLjZ6WBzYVZ5_3V-ZH_kIiP9ZXIjLLDSL0IFTB1uOSydi19D98J8TTQ/s640/blogger-image--1672917343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEika-BO1p5laqV3arqUTSZ21TbHhZP9Kzy1lJMLoZCxFP2SW6oAsCIMPbqXmAELRCwjaWJkiYmK8J3SjPEpSjQ5RLjZ6WBzYVZ5_3V-ZH_kIiP9ZXIjLLDSL0IFTB1uOSydi19D98J8TTQ/s320/blogger-image--1672917343.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am excited to let you know that I have been invited by <a href="http://BibleGateway.com/">BibleGateway.com</a> to be a member of their Blogger Grid!</div>
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BibleGateway is a division of HarperCollins Christian Publishing and is the most visited Christian website in the world. You have most likely visited BibleGateway.com at some point in time, whether it was seeking a particular scripture or wanting to read scripture in a different version (for example, NIV, King James, Message, Living Bible, etc). </div>
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My blog first had to be reviewed by BibleGateway administrators to make sure that my content is scripturally based and truthful according to God's word. My blog is now amongst a group of incredible authors whose goal is to share God's word all over the world. So exciting!</div>
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As a member of BibleGateway's Blogger Grid, now when I reference scriptures in my posts you will be able to click a link that will direct you to BibleGateway's online bible where you can read the scripture in its entirety and surrounding scripture.</div>
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I am so excited to be a part of something like this and I have <u>YOU</u> to thank for it!</div>
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Xoxo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2506006671336745539.post-83228867191035799312015-08-08T07:58:00.001-07:002015-08-08T07:59:19.129-07:00Window to His Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEh3BbGIQKobIIAIhQk0a_h3m-fCfh_vLcVFzMdAO8j7Anl6cUsRy_Q0NwK5tX1PxUdZJWYCqB9LgypMcxRIwRkSlIXsiiBxnJspFRR-Gh79eU9vy61nG67z9VNT8rhZH-6iivnHQjPY/s640/blogger-image-2057077709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEh3BbGIQKobIIAIhQk0a_h3m-fCfh_vLcVFzMdAO8j7Anl6cUsRy_Q0NwK5tX1PxUdZJWYCqB9LgypMcxRIwRkSlIXsiiBxnJspFRR-Gh79eU9vy61nG67z9VNT8rhZH-6iivnHQjPY/s640/blogger-image-2057077709.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Not to brag, but this is the view from my bedroom window. This view is the reason my husband and I put all of our pennies towards buying our house. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Imagine covering up this window. And not with sheer curtains that still let you peek through to see the evening sky, but with dark, heavy, dust covered curtains that were purchased back in 1963. What a waste of a window if we kept it covered all the time. We would be missing out on seeing God.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our hearts and our lives are like my bedroom window. There is so much beauty to be seen, but only if the curtains are pulled back so that God’s handiwork can be admired.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sisters, we are the window to God’s love. Every day, we encounter people who are admiring the view (girl, I know you’re pretty, but that’s not the view I’m talking about). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Can they see God’s handiwork? Or is it covered by dark, heavy curtains?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Each morning we when wake up to begin a new day, we start with a window that has been opened for us. Throughout the day we are the ones that determine what others will see. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Let’s take a second to look at that picture above.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It’s beautiful. There is so much to see. The color of the sky, the shape of the clouds, the sun’s rays shining through. I can look at that picture and see God’s handiwork. I don’t need to hear anything to know that God created that beautiful scene. I’m sure there were birds chirping and possibly the rustle of a gentle breeze. But even then, those sounds would be beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That is how God wants to be represented by each of us. The view of His handiwork in us should look like kind hearts and joyful living. People should be able to see His spirit in our actions and our love for others. The sounds our observers hear should match the gentleness of birds chirping or the low rustle of leaves of a tree. Our words should be soft to the ear and soothing to the soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We are the window to God’s love. What do others view in you?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It’s easy to take something as beautiful as that view from my bedroom window and cover it was dark, heavy shades. The same principal holds true with the view of our lives. A bad day at work, someone cut you off on the freeway, your dinner burned in the oven, you can’t find your keys, your dog ate your shoe…anything can happen throughout the day that has the potential to draw the curtains over God’s spirit in us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Each day we rise with a beautiful view of God’s spirit in our hearts. By choosing how we live and respond to situations, we are determining the view that others see. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I keep my bedroom window curtains open from sun up to sun down. The view is just too beautiful and I am anxious to see God’s beauty because it’s different every day. He surprises me with variations of color and winds that move the clouds. It would be a shame to cover my bedroom window because I am the one who is missing out on His beauty.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Be the window to God’s love. Let the world view His spirit in you. As people move throughout the day, let them interact with the most beautiful of God’s creations: <u>you</u>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Within your soul is the most beautiful view. You are the most gorgeous sunset. You are the gentleness of a cool breeze. You are the promise of new day filled with hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You are God’s handiwork, and He wants everyone to see what He has made.<o:p></o:p><br><br>xoxo<br><br>(This article was originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured as a guest blog post on GirlfriendsPray.org)</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117265209096904243noreply@blogger.com0