tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24646514030531790452024-03-12T17:22:01.439-07:00Confessions of a Pastor's WifeReal-life thoughts and wrestlings of someone crazy enough to marry a pastor. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-18073161443879918242018-11-22T08:59:00.000-08:002018-11-22T08:59:08.468-08:00Comfort and Gratitude The devotional I read this morning included the scriptures from Psalm 100:1-5. It has the verse many of us know..."enter his gates with Thanksgiving, and his courts with praise, give thanks and praise his name." But the verse before that really struck me and it was one of those "I don't even remember ever reading that" moments. It says this:<br />
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"Know that the Lord is God, it is he who made us, and we are his, we are his people, the sheep of his pasture."(Ps. 100:3)</div>
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I read an article last night about Christmas shopping trends. Last year, it was <b><i>all about</i></b> the insta-pot. This year, everyone is clamoring for the gift of "cozy." People are googling "comfy sweatshirt," "cozy, soft blanket," "fleece-lined jacket," and something called an "angel coat." </div>
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The world is chaotic right now (if you haven't noticed). The big, wide world is full of raging fires, senseless gun violence, wars, famine, human trafficking, hateful and graceless politics, and internet trolls who crush souls and build up walls, just to pick a few examples. Our small, personal worlds can be chaotic, painful, uncertain too. Insert -- marriage struggles, uncomfortable family dynamics, money trouble, unruly kids, illness, death and loss, other challenges --here. </div>
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People are yearning for cozy. For comfort. Something to soothe and to calm. Maybe if we can cuddle on the couch near the fire under a soft, shirpa lined blankie, the trials of this world will still, just for a moment. And they might. And they do sometimes. </div>
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For me, the morning reminder that the God I serve has it all under control, and that <b style="font-style: italic;">I am his, </b>brings comfort and immense gratitude. The comparison of God's people to the "sheep of his pasture" is well known to many believers, but it is a powerful reminder on Thanksgiving Day. We are cherished. We are protected, we are led. </div>
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Even for those who have wandered away, the Bible says that God leaves the 99 to seek out that one. I recall the moments, and seasons in my life when I knew I had wandered, and I acutely felt God's pursuit of me and his love. It's humbling to think of those days and I'm so thankful for them. </div>
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I'm of course thankful for the things you'd expect someone to be thankful for today (so long as they're true). Marriage to a guy I love and who loves me. Kids, family, food to eat and a roof over our heads. I have a job I enjoy and believe in. We have good coffee every morning. :) </div>
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But one thing I can be truly thankful for today, that is true whatever our circumstances, is this..I can "know that the Lord is God, it is he who made us, and we are his, we are his people, the sheep of his pasture." </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-43399227076768083622014-03-04T20:09:00.000-08:002014-03-07T15:28:54.418-08:0040 Days of Easter - Using Lent to Re-Focus the Greatest Season<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I grew up in the church early on but our family stopped
attending while I was still in elementary school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of this, I have very few memories of Easter as a
“spiritual” holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a day
for Easter dresses and bonnets, crochet handbags and baskets filled with
chocolate bunnies and brightly colored jelly beans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would decorate eggs and hunt for them in the backyard,
and we would eat ham and scalloped potatoes for our mid-day meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Truth is, that is very similar to the way we do Easter now
in our home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trade in the girly
stuff (I had two sisters) for pastel plaid button-ups and cargo shorts worn by
by my three boys and the rest is pretty darn close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The difference is that I am married to a pastor, and we
should know better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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At Christmas, it is easy to associate that day with Jesus –
even for those who don’t believe in Him at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the over-materialism of Black Friday and the hustle
and bustle in the malls, and the Christmas lights and Santa Claus on every
corner, despite what some might call the “war on Christmas,” the Christmas season
is still fairly rooted in the manger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We decorate with nativity scenes that portray the story, we see
Christmas cards with shining stars leading men on camel-back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here in the States, one can
still hear the faint sound of songs like “Silent Night” and “Away in a Manger”
while shopping the produce aisle at the local grocery store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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As a mom of three sons, ages ranging from kindergarten to 8<sup>th</sup>
grade, I find that I sort of have Christmas down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have our advent calendars and the “Best Christmas Pageant
Ever” book and the songs and the Christmas story to read out of the bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t feel as prepared to teach
Easter to my kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Christmas
season is a month of fun and contemplation but Easter is often relegated to one
weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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This year, I hope to bring Easter back. I plan to do a modified Lent with my kids. </div>
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Lent at it’s worst can be part of a legalistic and works
based means of following Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It can be a motivator to diet or to overcome a vice, with no real desire
to grow nearer to God or to reflect on His goodness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be an excuse to head to New Orleans for some muffaletta
and “all bets are off” partying for Mardi Gras.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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At it’s best, it is can provide a season of anticipation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a time to fast, to pray and
to give alms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It follows the rich
tradition of 40.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Forty</span> days of
Christ’s temptation and fast in the wilderness to focus his heart on the truth
of Scripture and the power of God before his ministry began on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Forty</span> years of wandering by the Israelites
as they learned and re-learned the power, the provision and the almighty
Kingship of Yahweh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Forty</span> days on the
mountain for Moses, as he sat in the presence of God and received the commands
that would set the Jewish people apart as a nation belonging to Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Lent sets aside 40 days in which we can focus on spiritual
disciplines that will ultimately prepare our hearts for Easter, the most
pivotal moment in human history and the cornerstone of the Christian
faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without Easter we are all
lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Christ died on the cross
and never rose, we are to be “pitied” more than any other as we worship a dead
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><i><b>But we don’t. </b></i></span></span></div>
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Here are some spiritual disciplines our family will exercise
, which will hopefully help bring the Easter season into focus in our home and hearts:</div>
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</span></b></i></span></span></span><!--[endif]--><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Fasting</span></b></i>– there are many examples of fasting
in scripture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fasting sometimes
worked for me and sometimes didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I was young and in college I fasted more – mostly because I could
do it in secret – as a mom of three it is harder to fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It also gets my blood sugar low and I
can be a cranky mom which isn’t always honoring to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hunger pangs would remind me that I was
weak, and I would pray every time I felt hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a first-world American, hunger pangs would also remind me
of the blessing and gift that food is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It would remind me of my humanness and in contrast, God’s bigness and
His might.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Fasting doesn’t just have to be giving up
food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be sacrificing or
giving something up that is important to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Examples might be: sweets, video games, smoking, television
or time surfing the Internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know people who gave up 10 minutes of sleep each day of lent, waking earlier
and spending that extra time in prayer and thanks to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last year I asked my boys what they
wanted to give up for lent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
oldest said “homework.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The middle
said “vegetables.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my youngest
(a sugar addict) said “candy!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
least one out of three understood the concept of sacrifice that I was getting
at!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed, but when we give
things up with selfish motives (because we don’t actually like those things or
we want to lose weight…) we miss the point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we give something up we also experience the abundance that
is in our lives and the gifts that God pours out. This season, we will give opportunities to
our kids to learn the importance of sacrifice and fasting and to participate in
those things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Prayer</span></i></b>– Prayer might be a no-brainer, but
it is so hard for some of us to talk with God and listen for His voice on a
regular basis!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
believe God is honored and blessed when we come before him and expect him to listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In John 10:27, scripture tells us that his sheep (that’s us!) hear his voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It may come in a burning bush (like Moses) or a whisper in the wind
(like Elijah) or in a sign (like Gideon).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It could be a still small voice in your spirit or through godly counsel
of a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could be through
nature. God does speak to us and when we pray, we often become more receptive to His voice and more aware of it when it comes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that when I spend time in prayer
and then look out at the stars, I will recognize his majesty and perhaps his
voice saying (as in the Rich Mullens song paraphrased) “one star has been lit
for you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I am not praying and
my focus is on human things, human endeavors, lifting myself up by my
bootstraps and running the treadmill that can be life, I might miss those
moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The bible also tells us that God
hears us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(1 John 5:14) We can go
to him with confidence and trust that He loves us and is interested in us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He might not answer every prayer with a
resounding yes (although our football team DID win the superbowl this year….)
but he hears us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is not a
genie in a bottle that will grant our every wish, but he does hear us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I believe as we trust him and share
with him and even (gasp!) wrestle with him when we disagree with the way things
unfold in life, we can grow nearer to Him and begin to resemble the kind of
people he calls us to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Here is what I want to
teach my kids:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prayer is talking
with and hearing from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">During
Lent, taking time to pray will bring the God of the Universe into
better focus.</span></i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can remind us of His glory, His might, His goodness and mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can remind us that we are small in His shadow, and yet
still He loves us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can bring
Him nearer to us and make him more personal – then when we look at the life of
Christ and His mission on earth, and his ultimate sacrifice played out in the
Easter story, it has more gravity and more dimension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our kids are growing up in an age where every movie comes
out in a 3D version.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
instagram photo and video upload using a GoPro shows them the big world is REAL and
allows them to experience it beyond simple words on a page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prayer brings God to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>And a
living, active, engaging, personal and real God is crucial to helping set the
stage for your kids of the greatest story ever told.</i></span></div>
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</span></i></b></span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Alms giving</span></i></b> – Our culture has no problem
associating gift giving and helping the poor with Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order to prevent spoiled children,
we often have them clean out their toy bin in preparation for “Santa’s” arrival
(if you let “Santa” in your home!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We donate those toys to the toy drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The schools collect canned goods and the local soup kitchen
serves ham and turkey dinners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
Christian parents, we tell our kids that we give gifts at Christmas time
because God first gave the gift of his son, baby Jesus, to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We celebrate that gift by in turn,
giving to others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order to
balance out the materialism of Black Friday through the week-after Christmas
clearance sales, we make sure we are donating our time and belongings to those
who are less fortunate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This helps
our kids, and us, keep some perspective and gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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When I was online researching Lent (I did
not grow up Catholic so was starting from scratch in the research department)
and found “alms-giving” to be a common element of the 40-day spiritual preparation
for Easter, I sort of had a “duh” moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, isn’t Easter <i>part 2</i> of the best gift ever?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: red;">Baby Jesus is
actually a terrible gift all on his own.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be like giving my kid a remote-control helicopter
but not giving him the remote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
the gift of “God becomes flesh” to be the best gift ever, first we have to wait
30 plus years for him to finish living out his life here on earth and then die
and raise to life again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until the
Easter story happens we are all just caught in a cycle of sin and death and
Christianity isn’t even a legitimate faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The deity of Christ is central to our faith and His death
and resurrection gives credibility to His claims of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">The greatest gift ever is that Christ
came (Christmas)….to die (Good Friday) and conquer sin and death (Easter) that
we now might also have fullness of life here on Earth and later in heaven.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all really needed that of God, and
He gave it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn’t Easter season be the perfect
time to give gifts to others, and especially to the neediest of us all?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Putting emphasis on giving to others during
the lent season sheds a greater light on the gift that is Easter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It helps us tell the story to our kids
in the same way that it helps us tell the Christmas story to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes the story complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my son opened up the remote-control
helicopter and asked what was so cool about it, I would have to also give him
the remote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On it’s own it is okay
but with the remote, it can fly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the next 40 days our family will look for ways to help others. Again,
the purpose of lent isn’t to add more “spiritual stuff” to our already full
plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is to bring clarity and
sharper focus to the Easter story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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By the time our 40 days are up, my prayer
is that our family knows God more, feels grateful for Christ’s act on the cross
(and maybe even feel the sacrifice more acutely), and then on Easter morning,
we can celebrate with more enthusiasm and a greater understanding of why and what
and WHO we celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Happy Lent, everyone!</div>
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**I am in the process of writing an actual
devotional for families on the Lent/Easter Season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please be kind, and do not borrow from this post for
any officially published works!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
kindly thank you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-56055600512104161362014-01-06T10:45:00.000-08:002014-01-06T10:45:59.232-08:00The Lessons I Never LearnI wrote out my New Years Resolutions on January 5th. Thankfully, "Stop Procrastinating" was not one of them. <br />
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I started off my list by basically cutting and pasting from the following year. Drink more water, wash my face every day, eat healthier, sleep more, read some books, read my Bible consistently. Every one of those resolutions was a resolution for 2013 and would have made for a healthier year had I actually adhered to them. And yet, 2013 ended up looking a little more like this: watch more netflix, use facebook more, eat Trader Joe's dips and crackers consistently, stay up too late, drink more (like, way more) coffee, wash face sporadically. I did read some books though - I am very consistent there. I don't know why it is so difficult for me, and for many of us, to do things that are good for us. We all know exercise is good and that we feel good when we have discipline and our hard work pays off in toned arms and smaller muffin tops over our jeans. We know that healthy eating and proper hydration makes us less tired and our skin look better and our lives probably longer. And yet I fail to do these things again and again. Why?<br />
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I think New Year's Resolutions must be going out of style. Or at least it is not popular to admit to having them. Ryan asked the church congregation yesterday who had made resolutions for 2014 and about 5% of the people raised their hands. I am curious why that is? Have we lost faith in ourselves that we can follow through? Are we too busy to set new goals? Do we all have "bucket lists" now that are good for an entire lifespan, making yearly goals unnecessary? <br />
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For me, part of the problem is that I am a staunch rule follower. The only rules I ever feel I can break without getting into trouble are my own rules. Which might be why, yesterday after penning the words "Eat Healthier" in my journal, I ate a bowl of nachos for the first time in many years and ate 4 chocolate chip cookies. <br />
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As a resolution - maker I am really terrible. Despite this, I have had some great years. 2013 was a great year. Ups and downs of course, but with fun, active, smart and compassionate boys and a loving husband who I am blessed to share my life with. We had some great adventures and I trust we have more to come. The New Year is a time to make those breakable resolutions but also a time to reflect and set goals of character and of how to we want to live as individuals and as a family. Healthy eating, yes. But I pray that in 2014 I also get a healthy dose of humility and reminders of how I can grow in grace towards others. <br />
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I hope that we don't set resolutions or that we break them because they aren't things that really matter. I hope they are lessons we don't really need to learn. And I hope that the things that do matter, are the things that stick this year - the goals and the plans that God has for my life. I trust that He is better at following through than I am anyways. Happy New Year!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-35393101453902097692013-12-19T10:07:00.001-08:002013-12-19T10:11:19.136-08:00The Lazy Elf: Finally Jumping on the Elf on the Shelf BandwagonI didn't really know that the Elf on the Shelf was a thing that lots of people did until this year. I had seen the books at the store and an occasional post on Facebook by my friends who I deem "super-parents" (in a very positive way!). I had seen a few fun ideas on Pinterest of the Elf fishing in the toilet or making snow angels in a pile of powdered sugar. But I honestly had no idea that the Elf was so <i>mainstream.</i> Until this year. The year my youngest started Kindergarten. <br />
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This has been my "Elf" journey to date: A few days after Thanksgiving break, Ben came home and said "A lot of my friends have real elves in their houses. They do funny things. If you touch them they lose their magic. But you can talk to them. They make sure you are good for Santa." Huh. Cool, I said. <i>And figured that was the end of it.</i><br />
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Then day after day, Ben came home talking about the "elf" and what it was up to at his friend's houses and that he was sure he was around our home too. Yesterday, while brushing his teeth, Ben said "this toothpaste tastes funny. My friend told his elf to come to our house. I bet he did and the elf messed with my toothpaste." And that is when I caved.<br />
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All debates about "lying" to our kids vs. encouraging healthy imaginations and belief in "magic" aside, I do think the Elf on the Shelf is a cute idea. I never outright told my kids that Santa was not real, but I never really worked hard to dupe them either. I asked my older boys this morning (when little guy was out of the room) when they stopped believing in Santa. They both basically said it just crept up on them and they never had a moment when they were traumatized or felt like they had been lied to. Phew. Of course, the older two never believed in the Elf on the Shelf. (a quick note...I tried to tell Ben that the Elf is a toy and that other families pretend to have an elf and it is fun but just using imaginations...he looked at me like I was nuts. "Mom, <b><i>they are real elves</i></b>." And I refuse to be the Mom on Miracle on 34th street who forces her child to not believe).<br />
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We don't have the 30 dollars to spend on the little elf doll, and I bet there are other families out there who don't either (or who prefer to spend it another way). So the older boys and I put our heads together and came up with some ways to do a little "Elf Magic" without a lot of money or fuss. I made a little list of our ideas - all of which are pretty easy and don't require an actual doll. Plus a couple bonus ideas for those who have the doll and don't feel up to being creative every single day. I mean, "Elf" success in the home is directly related to the creativity and energy of the parent, as well as the imagination and willingness of the child to have fun and go with the flow when needed. I really love seeing the fun things some parents come up with - but this list is for the rest of us.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Lazy and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"NO ELF"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"> ideas.</span></b><br />
1. Our elf first officially made his debut today, <b><i>6 days before Christmas</i></b>. (Anyone can be creative for 6 days, right?)<br />
2. Our elf will return to the North Pole on the night before Christmas Eve. He will leave a note for Ben to find the morning of the 24th saying "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Heading back...great job being good! I had fun spreading Christmas cheer at your house but now it is up to you! And remember the true source of Christmas joy is Jesus - the baby born for all of us, who we celebrate this season.</span>"<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mIw5N36yT6eaOI-SO4lC2SUv89mvMGQZRuJ2bxoU16HVxaQefPa179xEG6TFAcSCHo1oFd3tAlWKIwbtHQtigWJdIR_AXz1fWDO6DN69d-6ltRD5xVMFKbzeWOFFMlTX-ctaDuubtHY/s1600/2013-12-19+09.52.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mIw5N36yT6eaOI-SO4lC2SUv89mvMGQZRuJ2bxoU16HVxaQefPa179xEG6TFAcSCHo1oFd3tAlWKIwbtHQtigWJdIR_AXz1fWDO6DN69d-6ltRD5xVMFKbzeWOFFMlTX-ctaDuubtHY/s1600/2013-12-19+09.52.10.jpg" /></a>3. Our elf has help from the 11 and 13 year olds in my home. This makes things MUCH easier for Mom and Dad. <br />
4. He will be toilet papering the tree, drawing a red nose on the kid in the middle of the night, and wrapping the toilet in wrapping paper - <b><i>but will never be seen. </i></b><br />
5. His "grand finale" will be on December 23rd but we have yet to determine what that will be. The 13 year old wants to wrap our entire house in tinsel...<br />
6. <i><b>If you have an elf but need a few days off</b></i>, leave a note like this: "Dear (kid), there's been an emergency at the North Pole - be back in a few days! (from your Elf).<br />
7. Another good one: after some high-wire shenanigan like toilet papering the tree or hanging paper snowflakes from the chandelier, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>set your elf on the shelf with a cast on his/her leg and a note "Doc says I need to stay put for a bit...will be up and around again in a day/week/month!</b></span> (depending on how ambitious you are/aren't feeling). <br />
8. Two <b><i>very baaaad</i></b> ideas that my older boys think are good ideas: Draw a chalk outline of an elf on the ground with some caution tape. Or, have someone say, "I think I just flushed an elf down the toilet..." <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9PbxksdVP8SM4_10IcbcAxGiV9wLEtOwkm0TzOKGhNNpX4yAc1quLQShLr_-dUM19FVRgUxE4Ls3SJE09QS24050M38WmUsyDVOLViLETFeAnfdc1A5G3VFZZkCocgPIcGJx6OlKEVA/s1600/2013-12-19+07.34.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9PbxksdVP8SM4_10IcbcAxGiV9wLEtOwkm0TzOKGhNNpX4yAc1quLQShLr_-dUM19FVRgUxE4Ls3SJE09QS24050M38WmUsyDVOLViLETFeAnfdc1A5G3VFZZkCocgPIcGJx6OlKEVA/s200/2013-12-19+07.34.59.jpg" width="200" /></a>9. If you want an elf but can't afford one, use a different elf - one you make or get at the dollar tree and tell your kids "if all the elves looked alike, what fun would that be?" Or borrow an elf while he is on vacation or sick leave from another kid's house. Or be creative and do the "Bear on the Stairs" or the "Doll in the Hall" (although those sound a little creepy to me..).<br />
10. Don't overthink if you don't want to. Go crazy overboard if you want to. A friend wrote on my FB post where I was debating "To Elf or Not to Elf" that 'the world gets harsh soon enough, let him enjoy the wonder!'<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-64225726667142459282013-08-18T22:24:00.000-07:002013-08-22T09:31:46.849-07:00The Light at the End of the Tunnel Came EarlyThirteen and a half years ago, on March 4, 2000, I began to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. That was the day that my oldest son was born. <br />
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I did not have dreams of motherhood as a young girl. I really never thought I would be a mom, until I met and fell in love with my future husband. Ryan loves kids and when I married him, I figured kids might be a part of a package deal. They were. God has a sense of humor or he likes to teach us lessons, or both. I found out our oldest was on the way just shy of our second anniversary, and about 3 years earlier than I had planned for. To top it off he was a premie by 5 weeks - I was robbed of 5 entire weeks of non-motherhood! <br />
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I did mothering by the book. Really, by the book. "What to expect when you are expecting" got replaced on the shelf by "what to expect in the first year..." I read it faithfully, but my heart was rarely in the game. <b><i> I felt like this little guy had stolen me from myself and replaced me with a milk factory and a nanny-housekeeper. </i></b> I loved him and cared for him, but deep down and sometimes very openly would talk about the "light at the end of the tunnel." The day I would send him off to school or that he would fly from the nest and let me be..<br />
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When boy 2 arrived on the scene two and a half years later, I still had not quite gotten the "mommy" thing down. Boy 2 had cholic. He was intense and sensitive and cried a LOT. If I was merely<i> bored</i> at this point of playing on the playground and pushing cars around with my two year old, the boredom was now quickly replaced by despair and borderline insanity. But this too shall pass, I thought. I received two pieces of advice on a regular basis - one - <i><b>that this crazy baby-toddler-diaper-food on the ceiling stage would go quickly and before I know it life will be easier!</b></i> The light at the end of the tunnel... The other advice I received was that it would go quickly, therefore I should slow down and enjoy my kids while they are little and not wish their littleness away...I didn't really believe or take either completely to heart. <br />
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Boy 3 (Benny) changed all that for me. It is sad to admit but I think I wasn't 100% mom to all three of our boys until the day Ben was born. Ian was nearly five and Isaac was 7. I held Ben in my arms (he was also premature and lived in NICU for 21 days) and realized that the other two were no longer babies. It donned on me finally, that time keeps moving forward and the boys will never grow younger. I enjoyed every stage that Ben went through. When he was one, Ian started kindergarten, and that began five years of me and Ben at home while the other two were in school. I became very involved in the boy's school that year and took personal interest in each of them. I began praying daily that I would see the passions and talents of each boy and help to cultivate those in them. Even though sometimes exhausted and bored, and occasionally wondering about that elusive "light," <i><b>I also stopped seeing motherhood as a "time-out" from my real life that would somehow resume once the kids were out of the house. </b></i> I embraced it as the life that God has given me and the charge I have to nurture and love these boys. <br />
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I write today, because tomorrow Benny starts full day kindergarten. This is the day, the one I have been waiting for - 13 1/2 years of waiting! It is supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel. The pay-off for all that hard mommy work. I joked today that I was heading straight to the store tomorrow to buy bon-bons (if that is outdated then Ben and Jerry's!) and then taking a nap. Okay, I really might do that. But one thing has hit me hard this week. My kids were all born early. And I think my light at the end of the tunnel also came early for me. I think it came 6 years ago, when Benny came into this world. I began to really see my boys. Loud and whiny, rock throwing and dog hugging, wrestling and wall climbing, homework frustration and Christmas morning anticipation, legos on the stairs, and the toilet seat up, the army guy frozen in a cup of water in the freezer..teen angst, slammed doors, RV trips and fishing for hours, kissing boo boos and pulling my hair out in frustration...always something funny to post on facebook...This is the good life - even the annoying and tiring parts of it.<br />
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I wish we could all figure that out the day our first child comes home. Some do, but I know I did not. This post isn't about how I am JUST now getting it, because despite my posts about wanting to sell our children, they are in jest (mostly) and I have spent the last 6 years enjoying them. Tomorrow isn't the light, but it also isn't the end. This train just keeps moving and I will hopefully appreciate all the scenery along the way! (Benny good luck tomorrow - I love you sweetie. )Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-88165543044973677872013-04-13T14:16:00.000-07:002013-04-13T14:16:43.272-07:00Hedonism for the IntrovertI am an extreme introvert, which could also just be my physiological and psychological excuse for being an anti-social recluse-monestary-living wannabe who is afraid of public failure and would prefer to keep her nose in a book at all times. But I really think it is just that God created me to be an introvert. As an introvert, every time I interact with people, it has to make sense. It has to have a purpose or else it is sucking me dry of all my energy for no good reason. As an introverted pastor's wife, I won't lie...it can be a challenge. I often make a bee-line for the ladies room as soon as service is over. One, because coffee before church equals the need to make a beeline for the ladies room. Two, because I can hide for a few minutes and pull myself together before going out to "mingle" with people. <br />
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I will write more about this later, as I happen to be reading an excellent book titled "Introverts in the Church" lent to me by a fellow introvert. <br />
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Today I want to write a bit about the last two days and my Introverted Recovery and Detox. You see, I also have low blood sugar. If any of you have low blood sugar issues you know that when your blood sugar dips, you get jittery, anxious, spacey and may possibly lose some coherency and some social skills to boot. An introvert on people-overload looks a lot like someone with low blood sugar. And there are times when it gets extreme. Ryan was out of the country for two weeks and when he returned and went back to work, our kids went on Spring Break. I was on stimulus Overdose. Sometimes I calmly ask for an hour or two "time-out" in my room or to go on a walk...other times I demand that they all leave town. Thankfully God gave me three boys so I can suggest "wouldn't a boy's weekend be fun?" But usually I have lost all social skills when it gets really bad and I can't utter a complete sentence therefore it comes out more like..."go.now.must. sleep..."<br />
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So I sent them away for two days. And this is what I did: Yesterday I ate Ben and Jerry's chocolate brownie ice cream while looking at a facebook post about how nobody ever regrets eating healthy. This was at breakfast. I chain-watched <i>movies </i>on netflix until I found a new <i>TV series</i> to chain-watch on netflix. I wore my pajamas all day. I ate carrots out of a bag and crackers with my favorite dip for lunch and dinner. I didn't do dishes or laundry or vacuum or run errands or talk on the phone or even email. I did whatever I wanted. Whatever felt good at the time. As an introvert I felt better and better as yesterday went by and had no human interaction. From time to time the thought hit me that Ryan is preaching on Hedonism this Sunday - the pursuit of pleasure over all else. I sort of laughed about the irony while eating my chips and salsa and drinking coffee at 10 pm last night. By 2 am I finally willed my slightly addictive-personality self to turn off the computer and admit that I cannot watch 100 episodes of this show in one night...I woke up to a silent house. And it was really nice. <br />
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As an introvert I need those times of recovery and the permission to do nothing. By this morning, while I was tired from staying up all night, I was also refreshed. I walked around the house, opening windows. I turned on itunes to my favorite worship music and started making french macarons (which if you know anything about french macarons you know this is NOT hedonism but more a form of masochism...trust me they are harder than they look). <br />
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My rested ears, which had not listened to kids or teachers or neighbors or anyone else for 24 hours was struck by the phrase "avalanche of grace..." in the song that was playing. I sat down heavily and for the next hour listened to God's voice speaking to me and filling the hollowness of my soul. Sound cheesy? I doubt any honest person would say they don't know what I mean. A day of living completely for myself left me feeling empty.<br />
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I still feel I need that alone time. And truth be told, my hand is held up to God sometimes too..."wait...please...let me sit in silence" I say to Him. I felt His grace this morning - as if he was just sitting in the corner watching me do my thing. And then when all the noise was cleared out, when I was no longer the overwhelmed introvert with no capacity to let anything else in, then He joined me.<br />
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It felt good yesterday to empty myself out. And then it also felt good to know I am not the center of all things and my life and pleasures is not all there is. I don't think my relationship with God is as rich when I don't pull back at times. A little **hedonism can go a long way. <br />
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(ps I am using the term very lightly here...not a theology or psych paper or an endorsement...) :)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-59443067749919721642012-12-18T10:29:00.000-08:002012-12-18T10:29:08.034-08:00Traveller's Tree: the yearly tradition of hanging our ornamentsWhen I was a kid, I collected teddy bears. Once family got wind of it, I was the lucky recipient of stuffed teddy bears, teddy bear blankets, teddy bear figurines, teddy bear mugs. When I left for college I had a lot of bears to pack up. I think I gave most of them away, save for a few select bears that are stored away for my grandkids. <br />
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In High School, I collected Goofy (from Disney) items. Goofy baseball hat, Goofy t-shirt, Goofy slippers, Goofy telephone. I still have the slippers. <br />
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Collections can be fun, they can give a person a sort of "mission" in which they are always on the hunt for something to add. They can also be expensive, take up too much room, and give too many well-meaning relatives a reason to add less-desirable items to your shelves. <br />
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As a family who like to travel, we notice a lot of traveller collector items. Early in our marriage, Ryan and I needed to make the important decision..."what do we collect on our travels?" In every airport and gift shop in the world, there are plenty of options - sweatshirts, hats, silver spoons, snow globes, and little figures. There is local handiwork, wines, jewelry, patches, pins, foodstuffs. And of course, the shot glass. What to do? After retiring my bear and Goofy collections for good, I really wasn't ready for anything big or clutter-adding. So we came up with the idea of collecting Christmas tree ornaments. <br />
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This has become one of my most favorite traditions of the season. Ornaments are small, get packed up for eleven months a year, and serve a very practical purpose for the month of December. Everyone needs something to hang on their tree, and these ornaments provide a large amount of nostalgia to go with their practicality. <br />
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Every year, as we decorate our tree, Ryan, the boys and I talk about the stories that go along with each ornament we hang. <br />
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We have an ornament from San Francisco Ry and I got on our first anniversary trip. We have Yellowstone, and the Grand Tetons, one from a lodge we stayed at in Washington State. Leavenworth, the Grand Canyon, Washington DC, Durango, and the Redwood Forest. We have a glass bell from Petra, Jordan and a beautiful camel ornament from Cairo. Florida was ba-humbug the year we were there, so we have a giant sand-dollar we found on the beach, tied up with ribbon and hung on the tree each year. <br />
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When Ryan travels alone he brings home ornaments so we can somehow relive his memories with him. Places like Sweden, Norway, South Africa, Uganda, Tanzania, Venezuela, and Bosnia. In Greece, the first time there we couldn't find an ornament so we bought a little clay pot to hang. Our second time, we were there in November and found a hand-painted ornament to add to our collection. Of course we have our olive wood ornaments bought in Bethlehem (we love cliches in our family). <br />
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No town or trip is too small or too big for us. We pick up ornaments on road trips as well as missions trips, anniversary trips, and bigger family vacations (like Maui). We are a blessed family to be sure. Ryan and I made the decision early on to value travel and experience over stuff, and we have been lucky enough to have those experiences on a fairly modest income (by US standards, large by the rest of the world). <br />
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Christmas is such a fun time to celebrate memories and traditions. Some of our ornaments are not from our travels, but are still meaningful - the photo ornaments of the kids with Santa over the years, the ornament Ryan gave me on one of our first ever "dates" back in college. The first year of marriage ornaments and the "baby's first Christmas" ornaments. No one can ever accuse me of NOT being sentimental. Every December we get to remember the experiences and the places we have been blessed to see and to experience. In a little collection of memories, snapshots of times and places, all hung on our tree. I look forward to future travels and opportunities to add to our collection (Lord willing!). <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-40710539643638464502012-12-16T17:05:00.000-08:002012-12-17T08:58:09.538-08:00In a dark field I waitLiving in the land of Jesus's birth, life, death and resurrection can spoil a person. It can ruin one's perspective and make living out the Christian life anywhere else seem a bit mundane at times. It can also change a person, and create memories and experiences that will stay with them forever. <br />
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On Christmas Eve 2007, our family of five spent time across the Separation Wall, on the West Bank of Israel, singing songs about Jesus and praying for peace with other believers. We did not go to where the party was, in Bethlehem, where the light first dawned and Jesus was first placed in an animal's trough. We were in Beit Sahour, or "Shepherd's Field," where it was believed the nomadic sheepherders tended their sheep. <br />
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From where we stood, singing in Hebrew, in Arabic and in English, we could see the lights of Bethlehem, but we stood nearly completely in the dark, excepting one fire, in the middle of our little circle. <br />
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There are people who happily embrace God's grace and forgiveness. Who are easily able to shed the "sinner" and walk as a "saint" made possible of course only by God. I don't mean self-righteous people, I just mean those lucky people who see God's outstretched hand and gift and say "hey, cool..thanks!" I, on the other hand, have a hard time with the free gift of God's love and grace. I see myself as fallen, and imperfect, and it pains me. I know I can never earn God's favor, and there are days when I struggle to accept it. I know I cannot walk into heaven on my own two feet, but only on the back of the one who bore my sin on a cross. But that humbles me to my knees and if God were to come today I wonder if I wouldn't hide from Him. This is my confession. <br />
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In the days that God became man and dwelt among His people, shepherds were a despised profession. In the caste system of the day, they were considered right "up" there with tax collectors and dung sweepers. They were called "untrustworthy" and unclean. The bottom of the heap. They were not allowed into the temple to pray. Today I thought of Shepherd's Field, and thought "this is where I belong." <i><b>This is where we all deserve to be - outside of Bethlehem, looking in. </b></i><br />
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On Friday, 20 small children, most of them 6 years old, were brutally killed. In Sudan, and in Syria, in many regions in our world, parents watch their children suffer and die. Children watch as their parents are murdered. There is war, famine, child soldiers, genocide, school shootings, domestic violence. It is heartbreaking, sickening, horrifying. This world has a lot of darkness and pain, none of it is easy to accept or to explain. What amazes me is that the bible says that Jesus came not <i>despite</i> the darkness here, but <i>because</i> of it. He sees those of us, like me, who some days want to sit in the dark where we feel we belong, and God says "no." <br />
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He sent a host of angels to reveal to the outcasts of society, those shepherds in the darkness, that God was here. That<b><i> He was born to us, to save us from ourselves.</i></b> He said "come to Bethlehem and see for yourselves!" He invited them to join in the party and to rejoice and find hope. I wouldn't have traded that time in Beit Sahour for anything, and modern-day Bethlehem on December 24 resembles Mardi Gras more than the simple, first celebration of a baby's birth. However, this season I want to accept the fact that <b><i>though we don't deserve it, though we humans are all unclean, we are all outcasts, God has announced His presence to us. He invites us into the story, to come to Him.</i></b> Although I put my trust in God 20 years ago, I still have days when I wake up and have to say, "I will go and see. I will accept that You love more than I can fathom. " How long will we wait in the field before we go down to Bethlehem?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-23650162190514528512012-11-25T09:06:00.003-08:002012-11-25T09:06:27.181-08:00Merry Macgyver Christmas: the yearly tradition of making something from nothing<div>
I adore the Christmas season. I love the softer, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">more golden shade of sunlight</span> in the afternoon, cool nights (I live in So Cal after all), carols playing on pandora radio, balsam scented candles burning and peppermint tea in my favorite mug. As a believer in Christ the season is a great celebration of "God with us" or God coming down to meet us here on earth and to walk with us. I love all the traditions that come with the season as well. Decorating the tree with ornaments we have picked up on all our travels, remembering each trip as we hang them. Putting my churches on top of the bookcase, hanging our stockings and setting out our olivewood nativity, purchased in Jerusalem while we were living there. <br />
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We decorate fairly simply, but every year I want to join in the thousands of men and women who dust off their crafting skills and make something cool. Now that there is pinterest, we can share ideas online and it has most likely spurred a sort of craft "revival" even for those who might have not ventured into those uncharted waters before. I laugh at some of the ideas that really take a whole lot of money to accomplish even with a stash of online Michael's 50% off coupons and maybe a friend who owns a lumber mill. Of course I still like those ideas, I just don't have a budget for them and am secretly (or not so secretly) <i>jealous that they have a friend who owns a lumber mill. </i><br />
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That said, there are many, many inexpensive ideas out there for someone like me on a tight budget. When I was a kid, I loved to watch "Macgyver" on TV (no not a flat screen, no not on netflix). The guy could take the simplest more random things and turn them into something amazing. He makes Jason Bourne, and 007 look a little un-creative if you ask me. Just two examples I found online: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">In the first ever episode, he plugs a sufuric acid leak with chocolate. </span> Later, he builds bombs out of swamp gas, bamboo shoots, and mud. I am not saying I do, or do not condone bombs, but this guy is seriously cool. <br />
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Back to the point - the holidays seem to bring the Macgyver out of people, and definitely out of me. I dig in the bottom of my Christmas bins to find broken berries, bits of string, and scraps of fabric and can decorate my lamp shade. I can hang old dollar store ornaments from the chandalier and use a "seen better years" tablecloth as my tree skirt. I love to hear about other people's resourcefulness and how they can create something cozy, beautiful and magical with very, very little. My favorite "Macgyver Christmas" craft ever? The following wreath, made from the simplest of items -<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGQvC9R47CxGWn8eISxcJJdI17QSjXfldhrSBn_VQjZS3oiLhYyhguY2XD3fOJ36gfCSs801lqZPXImKul2Oc4wWJoOGXHQ5xRjrDqHS3ZHrc-QD5q5_vlEk4ORy7Ntb9s7WZrWHex7I/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGQvC9R47CxGWn8eISxcJJdI17QSjXfldhrSBn_VQjZS3oiLhYyhguY2XD3fOJ36gfCSs801lqZPXImKul2Oc4wWJoOGXHQ5xRjrDqHS3ZHrc-QD5q5_vlEk4ORy7Ntb9s7WZrWHex7I/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ugly bush (really, <i>really</i> ugly)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JdGGNVBQuln7ZxwVVTU_3UkF0N_EGJXYgWXV0zfY0n6G_kljrW8DRA7c98YzFwcv_IegjKK7jgQujaHc0Sj9gziikEQjfsYjaZJnddqKwfUygvB5995SEEW27p02SgkIPGQC5OVm22g/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JdGGNVBQuln7ZxwVVTU_3UkF0N_EGJXYgWXV0zfY0n6G_kljrW8DRA7c98YzFwcv_IegjKK7jgQujaHc0Sj9gziikEQjfsYjaZJnddqKwfUygvB5995SEEW27p02SgkIPGQC5OVm22g/" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A metal hanger...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LgmKB6JaZHmRlyq5JY19UHaLjsviFijjCBGZcuyUq1uk7NkxBVqXNh-USxi4kHb2Q_f387fU9TNl-eQnHIdU6evHkTEbZsaDroVpzaKNWvERT0__nVL4XVHEOuPz8SzmdsjNOZ42ERA/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LgmKB6JaZHmRlyq5JY19UHaLjsviFijjCBGZcuyUq1uk7NkxBVqXNh-USxi4kHb2Q_f387fU9TNl-eQnHIdU6evHkTEbZsaDroVpzaKNWvERT0__nVL4XVHEOuPz8SzmdsjNOZ42ERA/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken and pulled and squished and molded into a sort-of circle</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7TpEaomw_Jcf_2AGAuTkOT7tVyCHFvsDyXVrn2GXEGGEHdtdoulqK3OsoIkVVUtL6LfX4ajDaFSKYMYdeSVZzHqy7wfr9lyhUd2hRINPqf1E9pt_GPoElHQXpqlhla1jlcUsOc_4Azo/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7TpEaomw_Jcf_2AGAuTkOT7tVyCHFvsDyXVrn2GXEGGEHdtdoulqK3OsoIkVVUtL6LfX4ajDaFSKYMYdeSVZzHqy7wfr9lyhUd2hRINPqf1E9pt_GPoElHQXpqlhla1jlcUsOc_4Azo/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cut branches overlapped thick end under the thin end and tied with simple twine</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtDCOQjLTejPbw-1ITi-oDtH0h6HH3ahBGcjkJquDPA3NaqcnSBHty_iz61IOK594GmD2fis257Sz9X2wvezVaT889fSoOa5dLevQBwUlb8BMuGpUOQTFQR3dcEkmNgtKDmkjogMd4Rg/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtDCOQjLTejPbw-1ITi-oDtH0h6HH3ahBGcjkJquDPA3NaqcnSBHty_iz61IOK594GmD2fis257Sz9X2wvezVaT889fSoOa5dLevQBwUlb8BMuGpUOQTFQR3dcEkmNgtKDmkjogMd4Rg/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPgdXwUC4MwQaZro__4nPvloM0Olj0g6ahfi-3zY1Jojc3cY1JdrBf3Nje5qqWD3XZjSZruhqcQzCnI3iznr10M2v4Uypy3xKyTrF5xYfUxFrkbaieunys7EEVtUUZSCkYULhcWJsMMQ/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPgdXwUC4MwQaZro__4nPvloM0Olj0g6ahfi-3zY1Jojc3cY1JdrBf3Nje5qqWD3XZjSZruhqcQzCnI3iznr10M2v4Uypy3xKyTrF5xYfUxFrkbaieunys7EEVtUUZSCkYULhcWJsMMQ/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">= a wreath to hang!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunaqovohAXDvpWT9DIwFGJCCsnmbejjP39cxBpEGtkJ227o3xGS8pXfdHqT-R9kQFaTsnnAijwhwPr94TY1d0LHRIibuK0fCPaj5bfaenuzF5bIaWNuOXUSHPSK45Nrrlhrj2xmnxLY0/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here it is in our livingroom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQKQ2SWaFm0_X1zQQKsPdcoA2jSmo6fpUvwo1YQ4stpc2VK2kFTBs7O3IBnWowJyvi6p4bDkUOHd1ZkJDQV5084HmDXKOUyXrCY8CBYmoo_2tnzXRGe7x_PLmc0iHBN-iNKM-Oy1RZxI/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A better look - also some more of that bush made it's way into a vase wrapped in old ribbon</td></tr>
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I love projects like these because they are easy enough even for an impatient and low budget gal like myself. And they are so versatile - you could use any greenery you have in your backyard or in the greenbelt or in your neighbor's backyard (rosemary, holly, cyprus tree...hey those have to be good for something other than being a tall, unsightly 70's-esque filler tree). And if you don't have twine, use wire, or cut strips of fabric, or yarn. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>I hereby decree that everyone needs to make this wreath.</b></span> Yes, I am excited about this project. And don't even get me started on what you can do with a 3 dollar can of chalkboard paint. Pretty much <i>anything</i> can be turned into something cool if there is chalkboard paint on it (unless you are my five year old...or my favorite shirt). I hope to hear of many more Macgyver Christmas projects this year - I guess words like "reclaimed" and "repurposed" would be the more cool hipster/pinterest/good blogger way to phrase it. So, devoted reader (Mom? Grandma?)...do you have some good Macgyver Christmas stories to share?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-82235202083862532982012-11-14T20:45:00.000-08:002012-11-15T08:06:53.729-08:00Short Stanley:just your run of the mill 7th grade day plus one bullyMy oldest son is a very nice kid. In the fourth grade he was bullied. The kids were sorting out the pecking order and anyone willing to pick on someone else was safe. If someone refused to turn and be a pick-ee, then they remained a picked-on. It was a terrible year for our family and I was heartbroken and angry at the same time. After that year things settled down but he never really developed close friendships with anyone at his school. <br />
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This year, our move to San Diego County from the OC has been wonderful for him. A fresh start that we were all praying for. He has really great buddies from school and from church. The boy has more than made up for his lackluster social life leading up to now. We are thrilled for him. <br />
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But today he came home and told me that a kid at school threw him up against a fence and punched him in the stomach. What???!<br />
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The story goes like this: Kid borrows money from Isaac. Kid doesn't pay Isaac back. Isaac continues to ask for his money back. Isaac gives Kid "the eye" and rubs his fingers together (symbolizing "you owe me money"). Kid says repeatedly that he will not pay Isaac back. Turns out Kid borrows from everyone at the school and doesn't pay anyone back. He cusses and isn't very nice. <br />
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Today the Kid finally got mad at Isaac for asking for his money back. Kid pushed and punched Isaac. <br />
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Here was my mom response: Isaac you have no idea what hurts are going through Kid's mind and in his life that make him mean. Maybe Kid is poor and needs that two dollars he spent on a poweraid more than you need it. Maybe Kid's mother doesn't love him like your mother loves you. Just let it go and try to be nice to Kid because he is hurting inside. <br />
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This was my pastor husband's response: Punch Kid in the nose if he ever pushes you again. He won't expect it and he will get a reputation for being the kid who got punched in the nose and will never be a bully again. And he deserves it.<br />
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Okay....<br />
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This is what happened...Isaac said to Kid..."you better leave me alone or I will get my 8th grade friends to back me up." Eighth grade friends (Isaac is the only 7th grader in an 8th grade class) start walking towards Kid. The shortest 8th grader (let's call him Stanley) makes threatening hand in fist gesture and says "you just messed with the wrong 7th grader..." Another 8th grader tells short 8th grader, "You are sooo not intimidating, Stanley (again, the name has been changed to protect Stanley)." <b><i>Kid runs away</i></b> and later in the day Isaac is giving Kid the eye again. (You'd think he would be afraid of the guy).<br />
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He was laughing while he told me the story today in the car. Whether this happens again, or if he punches the kid in the nose or prays for him or becomes best friends with him, I am just so happy he is not feeling beat down by it. I am not even going to make this profound...I just want to visualize short 8th grade Stanley (shorter than most 7th graders according to my son) doing the fist in hand motion..."you messed with the wrong 7th grader, Kid..." <br />
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1 Corinthians 1:25Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-29085583923949230382012-11-10T19:33:00.000-08:002012-11-10T19:33:49.253-08:00Worship in the front rowIt takes a certain type of person to sit in the front row at church. Usually you need to have a good amount of self-confidence to sit up front. Or you need to be a part of a bigger group of friends that all sit in the front, so you can still feel like you are not in the front row. Maybe you are a more mature member of the church who knows that no one likes to sit in the front, so you sit there to open up room in the back. Or maybe you never show up late to church or have your cell phone ring or have to sneak out early to take your kid to a sport's event. So the front row makes good sense. Or maybe you are friends with the pastor or you think you <i>should</i> be friends with the pastor. Because everyone knows that the pastor sits in the front row.<br />
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In fact, if you are new to a church and wonder who the pastor is...just look in the front row. He's (or she's) probably there. </div>
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Ryan sits in the front left row of our church. If I wasn't married to him I think I would sit in the back row. It would be so much easier for me to relax. Namely, because I figure people are paying way more attention to me that they really are. And I am a goofball clutz that embarrassing things happen to, and in the back row those things are less noticeable. </div>
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While sitting or standing in the front row of church, these are the general types of things that go through my head... "is my bra strap showing? " "Is my skirt tucked into my tights? " "Is my tag sticking out?" <i><b>Will my chair break?</b></i> (this has happened) "will people notice that I am not putting something into the offering basket?" There is also always the hazard of getting spit on or having the pastor make eye contact with you...which of course if your spouse is the teaching pastor for the day you have to just grin and bear that one...(or you can throw a spit wad...which only very immature pastor's wives or front-row sitters would ever do).</div>
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Last week I came in a few minutes late due to some unforeseen drama with the boys that morning. I came in, walked up to the front, turned off my cell phone, set down my purse and water, then knocked my water and purse over, spilling out my collections of gum wrappers, to-do lists, pens and wadded up dollar bills that I keep in my not-so tidy purse. Disruptive maybe? Then I realized that I didn't have a bulletin and I always take notes so I excused myself to go to the back again to grab a bulletin. Once the sermon started, someone came to sit by me and whisper that they thought Ryan's truck lights were on. I left again to go check. It was another white, giant hemi-engined man-truck (ok that is sexist...but that is how I see it) with it's lights on...not Ryan's. So I had to go <i>back</i> to the front row again. All the while I am wondering if people are asking "can't she just sit still?"</div>
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This week, during musical worship, I struggled again. In the back row I feel the freedom to sing and praise God without thinking about anyone else other than me and God. If I need to let things go, I may lift my hands up. If I am happy I might clap or move with the music in my white-girl way. I might sit if I feel the need to posture myself in a show of humility. In the back row, I might even kneel. In the front row I wonder...if I stand while most everyone is sitting what will others think? People often watch the pastor to see what he is up to - if he sits, they sit, if he claps, they clap. If he stands, they stand. I personally don't like that practice because I think it is important for people to do what they feel led to do during that time. <i><b>Worship isn't a choreographed sing-along.</b> </i> Worship (in music) is one way believers express to God their gratitude and praise. It is often done in a large group setting, but it is the heart God is hearing and not the outward expression that matters. </div>
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Do I do my best in the front row to do back-row worship? Yes I try. But my request to worship leaders and to pastors is this - please teach those of us in every row what worship needs to be. Remind us that we can express ourselves however we feel we need to - without judgement or ridicule (although if you dance around the church we might giggle a tiny bit...). </div>
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I know I will continue to sit in the front row (except for those days Ryan is out of town...).<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> I know I need to learn</span><b> once again in one more way</b> </i>that I don't live my life for those around me, but rather for the God who made me. Today I sat when others were standing. I felt like that made the most sense but it was hard for me to do. After church someone came to me and said "I really wanted to sit before God during worship but no one was sitting...I saw you sitting and it gave me the courage to sit." It sounds so silly but if you are a part of church you probably know what I am talking about. It was a good reminder to me once again to let God dictate what I do and not the opinion of others. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-48312212765181321322012-11-07T08:46:00.000-08:002012-11-07T08:52:50.546-08:00Fear Behind the Mask:How the church handles honestyToday I found Ben hiding behind the couch with his flip flops and a roll of tape. He was taping the sandals back together and it was obvious he had cut them. Of course, in my mother way I simply asked, "Ben, did you cut your sandals?"<br />
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He said no. I asked again, and he reminded me how Ian's sandals had broken once without being cut. I showed him on the sandal where the seam was and how the straight cut didn't match up. I asked again. "Ben, did you cut this sandal?" <br />
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<i><b>Instead of saying yes, Ben started to sob.</b></i> He ran back behind the couch to hide, and I had a choice to make. <br />
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I could yell at him for cutting his sandal <i><b>and do exactly the thing that he feared enough to lie in the first place. </b></i> Or I could go to him, hug him and let him know I love him and I am disappointed when he lies to me. I did the latter. Of course I made sure to explain that cutting flip flops is not a good idea because now he doesn't have any. <br />
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As Christians we are terrified of honesty. Even though God may know our hearts we still lie to Him, to ourselves, and to everyone else. <b>We are much more afraid of the <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">consequences</span></i> of our mistakes than we are of <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">hiding</span></i> them. </b> People who confess of hating their spouse, stealing from their work, or skipping quiet time for years at a time are rarely met with a "good job! thanks for being honest!" Those of us in leadership talk about Integrity and taking off our masks and being vulnerable. We tell people that God wants us to be honest and to confess our sins "and he is faithful and just and will forgive us." We tell people that if they have an issue with another believer that they need to go to that person and deal with it in order to have a richer worship experience. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7oOW9lIEBFPD1NRLOQPQ5HmDnPHeUB8tFaGjokdzzrhh1xXbunu-MPAtgESHHw8vcxa5paEXI6oKvTEDYI1fqeidvVtpwqDMXBsEHqX65bFMJNlRRdMs61k-UVnlBJ7k20nx0MP9-DM/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7oOW9lIEBFPD1NRLOQPQ5HmDnPHeUB8tFaGjokdzzrhh1xXbunu-MPAtgESHHw8vcxa5paEXI6oKvTEDYI1fqeidvVtpwqDMXBsEHqX65bFMJNlRRdMs61k-UVnlBJ7k20nx0MP9-DM/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a><br />
What is wrong with us that we just can't tell the truth? For one, the church says with its lips that we are all sinners, but real sinners are uncomfortable and we don't know how to deal with them. What if the truth is that someone confesses a sin and says "I don't have the strength to stop it?" What then do we do? If they <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">pretend</span></b></i> to be alright and repentant and they do all the right things, then there is a better chance the church can handle them. (I also believe people can be honestly doing and saying the "right" things as well..) But if they continue to be honest in their struggles, then the church can't seem to come to a consensus on how to walk with honest people, pray with honest people and help to restore honest people. <br />
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Truth is, <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">we should not be so shocked when it comes out that people have blown it big time.</span></i></b> God promises us that we are fallen, that we are sinful, and that we will mess up. Even the heroes of the faith in the bible mess up often and sometimes big time. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Hq7IOv06U0zhEbEklKm00ZCqeo_aRxv23e7UylnRG_AwbuFMRvnfpGrFPoZgJtCYi_hWNqNt7ngm8bEy9BtOItopSIR1TJe1nnNZsTp1avd44f710sKJDUqCL0GmzBNIs0mvOiyaZaY/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Hq7IOv06U0zhEbEklKm00ZCqeo_aRxv23e7UylnRG_AwbuFMRvnfpGrFPoZgJtCYi_hWNqNt7ngm8bEy9BtOItopSIR1TJe1nnNZsTp1avd44f710sKJDUqCL0GmzBNIs0mvOiyaZaY/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a>One thing that God consistently takes issue with in the bible is lying. He calls the pharasees "white-washed tombs" meaning they look clean and perfect on the outside but they are full of decay and death on the inside. He gets angry at those who did all sorts of great things on the outside for God, but on the inside their hearts were far from Him. In fact He even at one point tells those people "<i>I don't know you.</i>" <br />
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Honesty in church seems rare. We tell people to tell the truth but do we mean it? We ask people to confess their sins but will we confess ours? The man hanging next to Jesus on the cross, condemned for a grievous crime, found himself in heaven that very night and yet those who pretended to be so good and yet were so far, were cast away from Him. I am not saying we need to do away with consequences, but those will come on their own. I am saying that <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I believe we need to remember that fake righteousness (lying) should make us more afraid than admitting our failures. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">We may never know when someone is lying - they may live out a beautifully godly life all their days but on the inside, be far from God. But we can sometimes know when someone is being honest and we need to treat them with at the very least, as much respect and care that we treat those who hide from the truth. </span></b></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-26944743581085677822012-11-04T21:13:00.000-08:002012-11-04T21:13:33.748-08:00You know you are a mom of boys when... In case you aren't sure whether you fit into this category, I am referring to mothers of ALL boys although some of the list may pertain to mothers with at least one boy. Not sure. I wouldn't know. <br />
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1. You know that a nut cup is not something caterers use to display holiday chestnuts, walnuts and hazelnuts. <br />
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2. You never yell at anyone in your house for leaving the toilet seat up. In fact, after going pee, you <i>yourself </i>put the toilet seat up. Otherwise, one of your boys will inevitably pee <i>without</i> lifting the seat and you will have sticky pee all over the seat. It is just easier that way. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfn9BxeVJ_xs-U9UZ4aJ8Jt_rKhkqXHVsDdc6UArTvHuaQdhONwAFMzUNTADNddm_CswhLO_6ry2qNSdExgXKz2vZLA7vIf0uTUqJ4HPt9ODROxDT98n_a-_PVAohONZDCVvc6AKqjuI/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfn9BxeVJ_xs-U9UZ4aJ8Jt_rKhkqXHVsDdc6UArTvHuaQdhONwAFMzUNTADNddm_CswhLO_6ry2qNSdExgXKz2vZLA7vIf0uTUqJ4HPt9ODROxDT98n_a-_PVAohONZDCVvc6AKqjuI/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a>3. You often find yourself cleaning footprints off the wall at eye-height and hand prints off the ceiling. <br />
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4. You have a special camaraderie with other mothers with only boys. People may think you are exclusive...but that's just how it is. You need to feel you are special in some way because your boys and husband usually just think you are weird. <br />
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5. No one uses plates on pizza night because it makes more sense to eat off of the box. Boys are very efficient that way. <br />
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6. I never understood the term "hoover" your food until I had all three boys at the table. It's like magic the way they make the food disappear. <br />
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7. You realize that the concept that a mom of all boys is like the "princess" in the family is a complete fallacy. No one will treat you like a princess or see you that way because they don't know what a princess is, nor do they care. <br />
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8. You spend more time cleaning urine off the floor than you do having tea parties. <br />
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9. Boys without sisters don't see anything wrong with throwing snowballs at girl's faces or flashing their butts in public.<br />
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10. Your children are honestly surprised when you mention to them to use soap in the shower and to change their clothes or at the very least, their boxers.<br />
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11. If you can make it one week without someone breaking a bone, setting a fire, getting a black eye or getting a bloody nose sliding head first down the stairs on a piece of cardboard, it is a good week. <br />
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12. If you can make it one week without any body slamming, double dipping, running in the house naked, ball-throwing, grunting, inappropriate gas-passing or burping, drinking out of the milk carton (again boys are efficient), or roll-down-the-window body oder...<br />
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Well...I wonder if you really have boys at all. <br />
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Let me know what I missed! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-5159629544443905602012-11-01T08:36:00.001-07:002012-11-01T08:36:36.612-07:00The Halloween Party Yesterday my husband posted on why we celebrate Halloween. You can read his excellent post on the subject <a href="http://ryanrosenbaum.blogspot.com/">here</a> and just know it receives a hearty "amen" from me. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZf6KgbhmNE-6Kr0W7uxIzu5hxqgUanPWYIJo9u9qxNbJvLU6K4mjRbQOoc4wPyhnOvJLx_tfTPHWSwzCCtCRnQ6u7H2H8lTgb-Y7s9pWKt0ymlWK8UqtdLNg5z6BttDRLaW0VV4TOvg/s1600/2012-10-22+11.11.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZf6KgbhmNE-6Kr0W7uxIzu5hxqgUanPWYIJo9u9qxNbJvLU6K4mjRbQOoc4wPyhnOvJLx_tfTPHWSwzCCtCRnQ6u7H2H8lTgb-Y7s9pWKt0ymlWK8UqtdLNg5z6BttDRLaW0VV4TOvg/s1600/2012-10-22+11.11.43.jpg" /></a>Yesterday was one of those really fun days when I am happy that we are not seclusive Christians on Halloween night. Ryan and I both believe that the best way to share the love of Jesus with the world is not by being one of the only darkened porches on the street with a sign that says "Jesus Loves You." <br />
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And so, we threw a party instead. <br />
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<i>In the bible, the kingdom of heaven is described as a party (banquet) with lots of food. </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfliZjpSsVYDH-cZcYSpMlko8Cm7t0dZ32ZCnMjHhSrFIMlherCaWMSTwI4f-_RAuogN3yGa7SqlSmZVX4sta90EChAisNNlA519-HgtEszjDIa1_cFK7uHTdyHcgr4XLEre6l8pmvu6E/s1600/2012-10-31+10.04.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfliZjpSsVYDH-cZcYSpMlko8Cm7t0dZ32ZCnMjHhSrFIMlherCaWMSTwI4f-_RAuogN3yGa7SqlSmZVX4sta90EChAisNNlA519-HgtEszjDIa1_cFK7uHTdyHcgr4XLEre6l8pmvu6E/s1600/2012-10-31+10.04.14.jpg" /></a>All day the boys and I prepared for the party - we made homemade salsa and carnitas, mummy cakepops and my favorite caramel apples. First, we had to go foraging in the woods (or the empty lot behind the old abandoned bank down the street) for sticks. I get giddy when I think about a party and as an introvert...I won't lie; the anticipation and preparation is my favorite part. <br />
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<i>Jesus tells us...I will go and prepare a place for you...</i><br />
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We set out the food, lit some pumpkin spice candles, stuck some beer on ice, opened the door and in came our Halloween revelers. First, it was some Junior High boys from my oldest's school. They are new friends of his and are just learning about Jesus from my very verbal and not-ashamed son. One was a vampire and one was a Civil War Veteran. Next came the neighbors - every one of the houses we invited showed up as well as two extra families who don't even live on our street. They were friends of neighbors. Next came our friends from church. We only invited one family from church because we wanted to really get to know the families on our street. <br />
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<i>God invites everyone from every street corner. </i><br />
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I love that our understanding of God not only <i>allows</i>, but <i>compels</i> us as a family to open our doors to anyone who will come. And we don't invite people to convert them. We invite them so we can know them and so they can know us. It's a fun way to live. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-5766305510184112702012-10-30T14:04:00.000-07:002012-10-30T21:25:08.502-07:00Prayer and stoplights and parking spacesThis past week I had two different "opportunities" to talk about prayer with people. I was the substitute bible study leader for our regular leader who was on a trip. The topic: Prayer. Later in the week I was helping Ryan teach a discipleship group at our church and this week happened to be on prayer as well. <br />
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I felt very unqualified to teach on prayer.</div>
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I talk to God a lot and I have heard from God a lot. But I just don't have all the answers in regards to prayer. I am not one of those "faith pray-ers" who claims the promises of God's word and banishes Satan from the room, and says Amen and Halleluiah a lot. I love those people, but that is not me. I also struggle with praying with the faith of a child. I completely trust that God CAN do whatever he wants but it is hard for me to pray and trust that God WILL do what I am praying for. I have friends who have complete trust in the goodness of God and pray <i>knowing</i> He will answer because He loves them. I just can't do that. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">I think I am a bit jaded. </span></i></div>
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I do pray for the parking space sometimes...but I fully believe that God will answer me with a big fat NO because He cares more about my character than about my getting what I ask for. And a parking space shouldn't be important to me when I live in this amazing country and I have food on my table each night. But I have friends who see those little prayers as a way for God to bless and to gift you when you really don't deserve it. I admit, when I pray what I consider to be a dumb and trivial or selfish prayer, and it actually is fulfilled in a "yes" from God, I feel pretty cared about. And then humbled. And often silly for asking but so happy that God heard.<br />
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In fact, just this past weekend I was driving home and my car started breaking down. Thinking of this blog post, I started to pray. I asked God to "get me safely home." And then I clarified..."home, meaning the house, not to heaven." Then I prayed "and please get the car home, but not in a tow truck, rather on it's own wheels." It was ridiculous and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">I was totally serious</span> but also thinking <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b>God must seriously be rolling his eyes at me.</b></span></i> But then I got off the freeway, and for 10 stoplights in a row...the light was red, and just as my creaking and lurching car would come within a few feet of the light, it would turn green. No kidding. Every light from the freeway to my house. Is that because I was clear with God? I highly doubt it. </div>
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A lady came up to me a while ago and told me a story of how she overheard me saying something to someone else at church, and she took it to heart. She said it really impacted and challenged her. Now, what she had recounted to me was a quick off-handed comment I made to someone and had not put any thought into whatsoever. I laughed and said, "Gosh you shouldn't listen to everything I say!" And she replied "Yes I do...you are the pastor's wife." Yikes!! </div>
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Because of occasional conversations like that, I am very sensitive to the things that I don't have answers to. Of course, I don't think I have entire answers for <i>anything. </i> The bible says we will see "dimly" in this world but will one day see God "face to face." I will strive to know God and His word each day, but <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>my understanding of Him will be dim</b></span></i>, at best. I feel that my understanding of prayer is that way as well. </div>
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People sometimes come to me and ask me how to pray. There are so many examples of prayer in the Bible and they don't follow a perfect outline. Yes the PRAY method is good: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b>P</b></span>raise God, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b>R</b></span>epent of your sins, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">A</span></b>sk for what is on your heart, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Y</b></span>ield to God's ultimate answer. Yes the Lord's Prayer is a good model to follow. And <i>sometimes</i> people <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">yell</span> at God, sometimes they <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">sing</span> to Him,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> praise</span> Him, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">thank</span> Him, sometimes they <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">whine</span> to God, sometimes they use simple words and the Bible even says that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">sometimes we can't come up with any words at all</span> and the Holy Spirit in us will pray on our behalf. Sometimes people hear from God in an audible voice, sometimes in the wind, sometimes a stirring in the heart, sometimes through a "prophet" and sometimes through the awesome-ness of Nature. </div>
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I have to believe that prayer is as diverse as the people who pray and that God will listen, regardless of how pious, or how goofy, or how angry those prayers may be. And in looking for, and listening for His response, I hope ultimately what we can come to believe is that God is saying "I am here."</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-92024758660161196822012-10-23T09:18:00.001-07:002012-10-23T09:30:31.278-07:00The Wall: and when to cease praying.I had a vision. <br />
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Yes, one of those crazy-christian-lady (as I like to call myself on occasion) visions. <br />
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I was standing in front of a wall, holding a piece of paper. I was turning the piece of paper over and over, staring at it, worrying over it, thinking about it. God said, "stick the paper in the wall, and walk away." So I did. <br />
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This happened to me last week when I was very upset about something. Heartbroken, in fact. And I was doing just what the Bible tells me to do..I was praying <i>without ceasing</i>. Yep, when I woke up and I thought about this burden on my heart, I would pray. And then all day that burden was on my heart and I would pray some more. And then as I was getting ready for bed, that burden was on my heart some more and I would pray. In fact, at church last week we forced (ahem, gave the opportunity to...) our discipleship class to pray for 30 minutes on their own, in silence, without writing one grocery list or checking their fb status on their phones (not that I have ever done this at church..). I took my 30 minutes and prayed without ceasing for this same burden that was on my heart. <br />
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In that 30 minutes, we were also supposed to listen for God to speak to us. We made it clear that this was not a forced exercise and no one fails if they don't happen to hear God speak. That's silly. But I was praying <i>so fervently without ceasing</i>, that I doubt I gave God the chance to get in a word edgewise. But literally, God threw one of those 11th hour, hail-mary (is God allowed to do that?) type <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">God-is-speaking-now</span></i></b> passes my way the very last minute of our 30 minutes. <br />
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And it was in a vision. <br />
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I was in front of the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.</span></b></i> Which I have been there before many times. The wailing wall is part of the ancient temple that once stood in Jerusalem, which was destroyed almost entirely by the Romans in AD 70. The temple housed the "Holy of Holies" or basically, this is where God lived, where He was <i>present</i>. The wall today stands as a reminder to the Jewish people that one day the temple will be rebuilt, but it also is the closest thing they have to coming into God's presence. It is a Holy place for them. <br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I was holding a piece of paper.</span></i></b> Pilgrims come from all over to the wailing wall and bring their prayers, written on paper. They roll the paper up into little wads and stuff them into the cracks of the wall. It's as close as one can get to sticking a prayer into the hand of God. <br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I was turning the paper over and over.</span></i></b> I was praying without ceasing. But I wasn't actually putting my concerns into God's hands. And that is what He wanted me to do. <br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">God's voice in my vision wasn't a gentle one.</span></i></b> It was an admonishment. It was a bit annoyed. (of course, that might have just been my take on it). <i>"Sara, stick the paper in the wall, and walk away."</i><br />
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So, in the vision I saw myself do just that. <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> I put my prayer into the hands of God and therefore put it </span></i></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">out</span></b></i><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> of my hands. Then I turned and walked away, trusting that He cares more than me and is far more capable than me. </span></i></b><br />
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The real me (not the vision-me) let go of my burden right then. And I walked away from it. Every once in a while I can look over at the wall just to check..."you still got this, right God?" And He does. <br />
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1 Peter 5:7 <i>"Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares for you."</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-638944064039492602012-10-21T19:38:00.000-07:002012-10-22T15:36:14.010-07:00Momnesia<div>
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Momnesia is a real thing. I thought I was clever when I came up with the title of this post, but then decided to google it. There are definitions online, books, blogs and even a USA Today article on Momnesia. The basic premise of course, is that a mother, shortly after childbirth, suffers from a sort of mental "fuzziness." I didn't read much on the term, since I already had in my head what I thought it meant and I prefer to live in my bubble and use the term for my own devices. Also, I am a bit annoyed that I am not as clever as I thought I was. <br />
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I always think of mommy amnesia as the condition that wipes away the true memory of childbearing so that we have more kids later. I won't go into the gory details, but giving birth to my first-born was not pretty. And between the three kids, there was 6 weeks of bedrest, 31 days in NICU, 10 years of cholic (I won't name names), an emergency C-section and 150 pounds of weight gain. Yet somehow I managed to forget each difficult experience and go for another round. <br />
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Other signs of Momnesia might be things like putting your purse in the fridge, leaving your bible on top of the car (I literally went through one bible per baby), forgetting your child's name, leaving your keys in the bathroom at McDonalds, becoming clutzy and bumping into things (I might have been born with Momnesia now that I think of it). <br />
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Here is where I have been hit the hardest though - I have these ideas in my head of what an idyllic family outing will look like. Or what Christmas morning will look like. Or for instance, what a nice family bike ride on the beach for my birthday will look like. We all love each other, we laugh, we smile. We are wearing normal, clean clothes and we are polite to all those around us. We are grateful for life and for whatever experience we may be having together. So lovely. There are the ideas in my head, and then there is what is true. Usually after an outing together or a family holiday, I am making plans to sell my children to the zoo. And yet, I forget all this, and the very next week, am doing it all over again. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #76a5af;"><b>Momnesia. </b></span><br />
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This past Friday we went to the Bates Nut Farm Pumpkin Patch. I was so excited to stroll the fields, watch the boys laugh and play, smell the cold, crisp fall air of...Escondido. I knew right away that there was going to be trouble when we picked up my oldest from school and immediately the punching began. And then they got along for five minutes because I told them the name of the pumpkin patch...Nut Farm. And I have three boys, so they <i><b>loved </b></i>the idea of going to a nut farm, and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b>giggled about going to get nuts for a good five minutes.</b></span> And then the punching resumed. And Ben wiped boogers on Isaac's face. And Ian threw a red rubber ball at Ben's face. And then we got stuck in traffic. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7PPE_ppafdC3cdWGyl_vHIUR6kC55s4SnbldFENYP1vY298hKt2YMG2-bR0_67yuHRObhJuRrLvg5Q6xPAK_ZhhtcYbyqswkSbyWWNR3-Vf34LCX8eQzJFDYmjsigqBIPPyufO8a5w4/s1600/2012-10-19+16.04.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7PPE_ppafdC3cdWGyl_vHIUR6kC55s4SnbldFENYP1vY298hKt2YMG2-bR0_67yuHRObhJuRrLvg5Q6xPAK_ZhhtcYbyqswkSbyWWNR3-Vf34LCX8eQzJFDYmjsigqBIPPyufO8a5w4/s320/2012-10-19+16.04.48.jpg" width="320" /></a>At the pumpkin patch, the weather was significantly warmer than it had been at our house which is closer to the coast. The boys were too hot. They were hungry. Could they get a giant pumpkin? They picked up rotten pumpkins. They made faces for the camera. They grumbled. And punched. They found a poor fake mannequin cowboy sitting on a bench and picked his nose, pulled his ears and tickled his feet to make sure he was really fake. Getting them to all three sit still for more than 20 seconds to get a photo of our day was like pulling teeth. I told them that I was leaving them at the nut farm and they would have to forage for food and raise themselves. Ben the five year old actually thought that sounded like a great idea. Sigh.<br />
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This morning, I went for a run without the children. It was cold and grey. I had a thought in my head as I neared the house... "maybe they will all have cleaned the house for me while I was away. Maybe the house will be cozy, clean and smelling of pumpkin candles and fresh-brewed coffee." <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #76a5af;"><b>Momnesia. </b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuhyhpUGCPdxi77HutFHSvUpO24HTvFGs8NXdzuX6wPn_amm1nW480P3z7yNpRvwHbsbaXGgy0UErQEqWYv9N2-ic3HsOkv87yZEN342xzjLgzJnRXQWeUAnGQq9v5msbeHGQe70h6brg/s1600/2012-10-19+16.46.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuhyhpUGCPdxi77HutFHSvUpO24HTvFGs8NXdzuX6wPn_amm1nW480P3z7yNpRvwHbsbaXGgy0UErQEqWYv9N2-ic3HsOkv87yZEN342xzjLgzJnRXQWeUAnGQq9v5msbeHGQe70h6brg/s320/2012-10-19+16.46.29.jpg" width="320" /></a>What throws me off however, is that today, as I entered the house, it <i>was </i>clean and the boys were upstairs playing quietly (they were drawing all over their faces...but they were quiet) and the house smelled of pumpkin and coffee. Sometimes they actually surprise me and live up to my hopes for them. And it makes my Momnesia feel justified. Sometimes I want to sell them to the zoo, but I look back on those moments fondly. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #76a5af;">Momnesia.</span> </b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZzTsKGE4FFu4kd7G8nsim9Gmp22QbcIKud5ogszcfPiisYCQ19a_VDhZDEwYGP6NrQ70fqfPIWRJ1J2VWRUphqoFlnZFQ4P6X-HW2u_En5_RvPjsHQPgrTD1JlxQfCHkX8yPV_w4t0Q/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">peaceful pumpkin patch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fpD8P-Ht4CCV_p6ZjAKDzAPp_O-hO8Nb-1wHPtLaWzYpnDC6auoU05egQ3UCTqVACTLOuvbjfDHBs0_jt7sTpn_keJYtBmN5VFbnjtW2fnXStro2JeGpr6D87ol5CqB1zYiQQYQu3SY/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brother love</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-19158512644232475902012-10-20T13:45:00.000-07:002012-10-22T14:07:05.558-07:00To Be a Child<div>
Yesterday I got a tetanus shot for the first time in over 10 years. She gave me my shot, and then I got one of those little round bandaids that my kids always get when they get immunizations. The last few times I got shots of any kind, I passed out. Therefore, the nurse had me lay back and wait 15 minutes before I could leave the office. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblDEOERpn9vONngDFlZVwIG2se59chbsrrBvGQyZl8maPacWWkhjXZ3rXr-xiPPL30JNyn-Z-w3ZjorUzZa7ihhHbDVjA3lveMIoQ3JCeAKF3OTmkIBv2-9tPuESEJ54R62TuobGd1o0/s1600/2012-10-20+12.54.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblDEOERpn9vONngDFlZVwIG2se59chbsrrBvGQyZl8maPacWWkhjXZ3rXr-xiPPL30JNyn-Z-w3ZjorUzZa7ihhHbDVjA3lveMIoQ3JCeAKF3OTmkIBv2-9tPuESEJ54R62TuobGd1o0/s320/2012-10-20+12.54.37.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>
Today, my arm is a little sore, but I no longer need the bandaid on my arm. It is a tiny little pin-prick. However, I keep refusing to pull the bandaid off. And just a bit ago, it hit me why not. I associate those bandaids with being a kid. Where someone else is in charge and you just go along with it. You don't have to be responsible and you don't have to make any choices, you just sit there and get your shot. And then, if you are lucky, your mom or dad will take you to the store and buy you a can of mandarin oranges in light syrup. (ok, that was my treat of choice as a kid...). <br />
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I am 37 years old and have been married for 15 years. I have three beautiful (albeit feisty) boys. I am a grown up. But some days, I really want to be a kid again. To not be responsible for anything or anyone, to have no major expectations, to be oblivious to the laundry on the bathroom floor and the dishes in the sink. <br />
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It's funny how childhood is so often lost on kids. They want to grow up, they know better than their parents. They hate the boundaries and the "forced" family vacations. Us adults, we <i>do</i> know better. Days like today I am grateful to be called a "child" of God. It is days like this, that I am glad that the Bible tells me that God has a plan. That He is in control. That He loves me and considers me His kid. And I don't always have to have it all figured out and I can mess up. Days like today I say to God, "Okay - the day is yours...just pick me up and take me where you want me to go. Provide what you know I need, not what I think I want. Maybe then I can take a moment where I don't feel the need to "DO" but can simply "BE." </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-90957422920712938702012-10-17T09:26:00.001-07:002012-10-17T09:48:10.336-07:0010-10-10: BattlepoundI had hoped to be one of those really awesome diet success stories - only a wimpy version. Instead of 80 pounds, 10 pounds. Instead of holding up the pair of jeans with a foot of extra waistband, I could show a victorious jean-buttoning photo with my elastic waste-band skirts still folded in my dresser drawer. But I would have weekly success, and I would share really great recipes that ensure success, and in the end, I would smile, beaming, 10 pounds lighter and 10 dollars richer...oh and 10 weeks older of course. <br />
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I did lose 1 pound in the first calorie-counting, low -sugar eating week. And then I moved on to "smarter" dieting where I ate more protein and didn't worry so much about calories - I just ate smaller portions and made my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">carrot cake-pumpkin mini cupcake </span>with cinnamon cream cheese frosting, and ate it too. As per my last post, life being what it is, I didn't write my week two update to tell you all that week two ended with a loss of exactly <i>zero</i> pounds. I still am down one, and I won't know until Friday what the net for the last three weeks will be. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2-FxKQuNmQ9rTyRE3Vey3K4hOOCxqmWW1r5jT_yPEEZJ1aJNkslfzvybPAgISQ2mB844Hs0_VatyE0ffWJeX5xpxYm082KkzL-ALEP8V8A-epy8LdCwogUE_ujIwuP8GPx26-ZI_Yg4/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2-FxKQuNmQ9rTyRE3Vey3K4hOOCxqmWW1r5jT_yPEEZJ1aJNkslfzvybPAgISQ2mB844Hs0_VatyE0ffWJeX5xpxYm082KkzL-ALEP8V8A-epy8LdCwogUE_ujIwuP8GPx26-ZI_Yg4/s400/photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>These actually are healthier than they look...</b></td></tr>
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I am back to cutting out sugar and paying attention to calories. Though I am sad thinking that the only way to lose weight especially when such a small amount of it, is to give up sugar. I do a lot of sweets when I cater and I don't know how to <i>not</i> taste test things along the way. Yesterday I asked every thin person I saw what their secret was, and every one of them said they didn't eat sugar. Seriously, that doesn't sound fun. <br />
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I would also like to note, that my five year old son has an incredible skill. Really. He has the ability to actually<i> <b>will </b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">green boogers</span> to come out of his nose the moment I start to get ready for the gym and him to the gym childcare center. It doesn't matter if he has been perfectly healthy and clear-nosed all day. I am curious if every child has this skill or if my child is particularly gifted. <br />
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You might be thinking right about now..."Sara, stop your whining and at least do some leg lifts while you write this blog post!" And you are right. I should be doing leg lifts. I think I am in awe right now of every man and woman everywhere who sets their sights on weight loss and stick to a plan, and see success. Even one pound is a battle.<br />
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And then of course I think, how ridiculous we Americans must seem to so many of the world - that we have so much food available to us that one of our biggest national epidemics is obesity. It makes me feel a little ashamed, really. <br />
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So as always, I approach dieting with the same basic principal I approach most of my life: Read a book, analyze, get annoyed when it isn't easy, make jokes about it to keep things in perspective, but then see some underlying, deeper significance or challenge even in the midst of something that could be superficial to most everyone else. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><b> I am doomed.</b></span> But I still have 7 1/2 weeks left and though all of the above are true, I am also pretty determined and goal oriented and that 10 dollars still has my name written all over it. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-62520170582237510642012-10-13T21:04:00.000-07:002012-10-13T21:04:45.967-07:00Masochistic Faith<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes life just doesn't have any answers left, and all we have is our pain. I have found that pain heightens the senses and dials up the colors of my life. I may be walking through my daily routine, and out of no where, something terrible and heartbreaking may hit me. </span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And suddenly I am more aware. </span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This past week, something like that hit us. It isn't directly our pain and therefore I cannot share the details here. Only that we are broken, and we are weeping for those who we love dearly. I heard a godly woman speak today at a conference, and she made the comment "Because I had the peace of God, though I was taken from all I held dear, I didn't shed a single tear!" And of course I wondered...does the peace of God = no tears? Can't we experience God's comfort in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">midst </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of our weeping? Or once we feel His presence are we meant to take a deep breath and pick up again? I know she didn't mean to make it sound so simple, but as Christians do we try to make grief and faith a formula?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A confession: I don't know the answers to this - only that we can draw near to God. And if we are on the floor too exhausted from our pain to even crawl to Him...well, the Bible says "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit..."</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pain makes me more aware of my need for God and His nearness. </span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of my all time favorite song-writers, Rich Mullins writes a song that has ministered to me time and again. It goes like this...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, sometimes my life just don't make sense at all<br />When the mountains look so big<br />And my faith just seems so small</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf<br />You have been King of my glory<br />Won't You be my Prince of Peace?</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And I wake up in the night and feel the dark<br />It's so hot inside my soul I swear there must be blisters on my heart</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Surrender don't come natural to me<br />I'd rather fight You for something<br />I don't really want<br />Than to take what You give that I need<br />And I've beat my head against so many walls<br />Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And this Salvation Army band<br />Is playing this hymn<br />And Your grace rings out so deep<br />It makes my resistance seem so thin</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So hold me Jesus, cause I'm shaking like a leaf</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You have been King of my glory<br />Won't You be my Prince of Peace?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> don't enjoy feeling lonely to my core. I don't enjoy feeling betrayed or lied to, or abandoned. I don't like to feel fear for the future or the depths of heartwrenching loss. I don't like the way it feels when </span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> have blown it big time. But what I do enjoy is the comfort I feel and the peace that eventually comes even in the midst of pain. I do enjoy the enhanced colors I see in the world around me and my increased awareness of God and of His goodness, in </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">stark</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> contrast to the times when this world and His people are </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> good. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't get me wrong...another confession...I don't always go straight to God in prayer. Sometimes I stew for a bit, get angry, shake my fist at the world and at God and at people, I hyperventilate, I worry, I wonder if I can fix it...But it wasn't until I caught myself and went to God that I felt any amount of peace at all. </span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pain brings me nearer to God and in that really wow-she-is-a-crazy-christian-lady way, I actually am sort-of grateful for it when it comes. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (but Dear God, please don't send it if unnecessary...thank you.)</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-4029541003507802752012-10-10T22:27:00.001-07:002012-10-11T09:53:25.802-07:00Vintage FaithI was born an old soul. At least, I was born older. I was always the responsible and serious one. I listened to 70's music and the classical music station in Junior High (and it was the 80s). I bossed my sisters around and asked my friends, "are you sure this is allowed??" As a young adult I often heard people tell me that I was wise for my age. (unfortunately now my age has far surpassed my wisdom!)<br />
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I also am a sentimental fool. I love things with meaning, things with stories. I think family traditions are one of the best things since sliced bread. And by bread, I mean the kind with stone ground wheat cooked up on a real hearth. </div>
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I love to see clothes up on the line. I love homemade jam. I love to find boxes in my Grandma's closet filled with treasures that once belonged to her grandmother. I keep a journal and write down the stories of my life..I have since I was 10. I love the smell of old books. And records. And old photos. I love the wedding ring in my jewelry box that once belonged to my mother. I love to see a church with a steeple. And pews. I LOVE pews. </div>
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I have an active imagination and I imagine all the people who walked these roads before me. And when there are pews, well, I imagine all those who have <i>sat</i> before me. I imagine those who have worshipped before, struggled before, prayed before, failed and persevered before. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"><i>There are those before these wooden churches..</i></span> who I read about in the Bible...Abraham and David, Elijah, Paul and Peter.. those truly human souls who often make the rest of us look good on the one hand and then shamefully apathetic and unbelieving on the other. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"><i>There is</i></span> the Mother Theresa and the Billy Graham and William Wilberforce and Florence Nightingale and Elizabeth Elliot, who lived (and live!) with such faith and conviction that I feel humbled and challenged to trust in a God who can do great things with ordinary people. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"><i>But my spiritual heritage is also made up of people like my Grandma.</i></span> Who one day, having nothing to eat, and no money in the bank, prayed to God and said "Lord, you own the cattle on a thousand hills, could you spare some food for us?" That same afternoon a neighbor came over with a side of beef for my grandparents, saying there was too much for their family and could they share? My Grandfather kept a list of names in his bible, of those he prayed over every day...the names of my parents, my cousins, <i>my</i> name. My Grandpa has passed on from this world, but I think often of the example he set, of the path he led, both the victories of faith and the failings that made him see his need for God. </div>
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Today Ryan and I had the privilege of sharing a meal and some conversation with the WOW (Wiser, Older, Wittier...aka over 65) group at our church. Afterwards, a 95 year old woman came up and gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. I cannot express quite how much that simple action blessed my day. This woman has seen more of the world, experienced more change, more loss, more Sundays on a pew, more moments on her knees. I love that God has designed this life to not go it alone, and he provides people who can forge ahead and who we can learn from. Oh the stories she can tell! I am challenged in this "Me-generation" to listen and to appreciate. <br />
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What some may see as old and outdated, I see as "standing the test of time" and <i>o</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><i>f lasting interest and importance; venerable; classic. </i>This was a definition I found for the word "Vintage." In this pinterest-loving age, I think many of us are learning to love these things that have history, that have significance. And yet, we don't always recognize how they also can shape us and teach us. And how it isn't just the vintage "things" (like Model T's and WWII memorabilia) and the vintage "experiences" (like keeping chickens in the backyard, or embroidering a handkerchief..). It is the ideas and the people as well. It is the faith. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> I am also challenged to recognize my part in the continuum. That the way I live out my faith will impact future generations for better or for worse. Today though, I am thankful to share in the rich history of millions of Christ-followers before me.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-69323095175863027002012-10-08T09:33:00.000-07:002012-10-22T15:34:31.061-07:00Not Pioneer Woman:Making Jam<div>
Last Sunday I attempted to make jam for the first time! In order to prepare for this, I of course got some books on jam-making at the library, and spent countless hours on pinterest and various blogs and websites getting ideas and inspiration. In previous posts, I have mentioned my inability to post photos, but I obviously am getting the hang of it, even if my pictures aren't that pretty! So, here is my photo journal of my maiden jam-making experience, and why I am not quite the standard to which you may desire to attain. :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTg63vzn0c56W4mtl_yOUTdrlz46FVwC0OkqkyAYH_hTzJ0q3y8lp6GLU6E4yImziDPk8L6djQ2Tk1goQdJVpV2Cz23bYK3kEQk88sEr0EfTn7AdHbKQxexGBxZwLF4FA9ncMTwJcwVGQ/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>I think the original point of canning was to use the produce that you have abundantly available to you on your family farm...or at least in your small backyard. That is what makes sense and makes it economical as well. My neighborhood grocery store supplied this year's crop for me though...at apprx. $10 (not on sale) for three bags of frozen fruit.</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcEkxr-rthZz-tj6-HaE0AzWTT6pca7ctOSwojb6ii0C_4Rl4EulJng-xyo8Y0GAdlgwKsI1L06d8z72UyZFPcBmCF-InQpU7majKB5oXJeW09OcdPYgYg8VUAADduXZ5XJw_f0-QoUA/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcEkxr-rthZz-tj6-HaE0AzWTT6pca7ctOSwojb6ii0C_4Rl4EulJng-xyo8Y0GAdlgwKsI1L06d8z72UyZFPcBmCF-InQpU7majKB5oXJeW09OcdPYgYg8VUAADduXZ5XJw_f0-QoUA/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of good bloggers find their cans on free sites online, garage sales, or from Grandma's attic. I found my cans at the grocery store for $11, plus sugar and pectin at $4 and $5, respectively. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhx1oRjmytWeZavRdkSnj7Xt6oC7nBHNmHpIPzkxCf7tZYjwt8HJOhSMvbkYARjEBDdIs5h_rO7R73elLOl0ryGIogg0VeoacyLnBzpmx9GjoyrnmX6nhJrCjZd5KrK8RysfvL2m4PpE/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhx1oRjmytWeZavRdkSnj7Xt6oC7nBHNmHpIPzkxCf7tZYjwt8HJOhSMvbkYARjEBDdIs5h_rO7R73elLOl0ryGIogg0VeoacyLnBzpmx9GjoyrnmX6nhJrCjZd5KrK8RysfvL2m4PpE/" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my instagram photo of me in an anthropologie apron, ready to make jam for the first time...isn't that cute?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnkGY0q3CpvhVwWn2NVKwD9Es2gX9PQjBdk7yjleA1y18LS-26XnaOqqI-x-X_JM4zb5PHLEraPr-Ch_dqzUp28eAYqwW4-bquyZteoxOBYkPHZLNirDPKJBWhsUmtcG2fKztpPvJbxw/s1600/2012-09-30+14.32.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnkGY0q3CpvhVwWn2NVKwD9Es2gX9PQjBdk7yjleA1y18LS-26XnaOqqI-x-X_JM4zb5PHLEraPr-Ch_dqzUp28eAYqwW4-bquyZteoxOBYkPHZLNirDPKJBWhsUmtcG2fKztpPvJbxw/s1600/2012-09-30+14.32.43.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the ACTUAL apron I wore, an old, stained barista's apron from my pastor-husband's time in the retail world up until recently. I mean, why would I actually wear the cute one...and get food on it? Photo ops only people...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-XDVoLQODUVwzu_L2mRgaRelpZ8b71vq5kwQNJrE5UiQCn4riF82coVmXa_dryBq4dEcxejSxGo3GRRHCd66KgokbfezG2VS1S0HGSWFZ-m0Zhyphenhypheney15ljqUslXoWgCy_D3w8xQxSYbg/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this is right...sterilizing the jars all whopping 8 of them. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-9n6XSVCpFLpM4rgloR5um8IXJuH52ECGlhvAE23cagIO91F_crV7eUhoqTzYQ_GG3WHfA97EfBbVdMvorsPRpsVBh7Xt2t-8VApBGd2gfJP4oL-QI8VZNENhG05Aov3shqE41wHhyphenhyphenE/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-9n6XSVCpFLpM4rgloR5um8IXJuH52ECGlhvAE23cagIO91F_crV7eUhoqTzYQ_GG3WHfA97EfBbVdMvorsPRpsVBh7Xt2t-8VApBGd2gfJP4oL-QI8VZNENhG05Aov3shqE41wHhyphenhyphenE/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and the lids...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBR0CDZaP6qrA4Osq93FFKyh13iqtt1Lv6ZLSQ0QtqTqPh9O_OgM3wpTr_UKHFPJMSJoZy1cgYcTj2t6c_IXs3TrxgHJlmviQR78oEzvjFAR0ak_CcKbome-U_g0DH76muCWo0DSM7rE/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBR0CDZaP6qrA4Osq93FFKyh13iqtt1Lv6ZLSQ0QtqTqPh9O_OgM3wpTr_UKHFPJMSJoZy1cgYcTj2t6c_IXs3TrxgHJlmviQR78oEzvjFAR0ak_CcKbome-U_g0DH76muCWo0DSM7rE/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">official canning tongs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHeH8TEhK7RNJrCFCD-sjgJXTfDzcdf_Z8iBr_r31MhftkcCxXDN4zld143CZp_FxIgKOyOwXbS2sRlq3YpRjf9X3dMq77EYfEcbEevW8M058iIlLf9xTtlqeauT9ogAxZ15uggQm0Vc/s1600/2012-09-30+14.44.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHeH8TEhK7RNJrCFCD-sjgJXTfDzcdf_Z8iBr_r31MhftkcCxXDN4zld143CZp_FxIgKOyOwXbS2sRlq3YpRjf9X3dMq77EYfEcbEevW8M058iIlLf9xTtlqeauT9ogAxZ15uggQm0Vc/s1600/2012-09-30+14.44.59.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mashing my fruit up...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xVHGd5pG-8UtSE2W3QO1SJm_Yl-pR8WWjRCu1b2ErroG-ebUZigpsYYetsMfPrLJK-sD6gJTFaUXND5DGmk11OwdPobb6Aj3DgFFPD3sHAUYJifpZA5xqW0CTnVJQrBREn5I5tNWovM/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xVHGd5pG-8UtSE2W3QO1SJm_Yl-pR8WWjRCu1b2ErroG-ebUZigpsYYetsMfPrLJK-sD6gJTFaUXND5DGmk11OwdPobb6Aj3DgFFPD3sHAUYJifpZA5xqW0CTnVJQrBREn5I5tNWovM/" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cheating with an immersion blender when the fork thing was taking too long.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgyOr5L4IEpzBmGoBQcF85u92cjVK3zMJHbmxkTLLuOE3F1haVh4JuXugaeZp9Z60Ah9hMzoFpF4oiSY5ZeLFblSN26vwu24kzmJKkOQhxRD5c4ck9wDzg8bcjnkpTvffQbrOfyuKb70/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgyOr5L4IEpzBmGoBQcF85u92cjVK3zMJHbmxkTLLuOE3F1haVh4JuXugaeZp9Z60Ah9hMzoFpF4oiSY5ZeLFblSN26vwu24kzmJKkOQhxRD5c4ck9wDzg8bcjnkpTvffQbrOfyuKb70/" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 1/2 cups of healthy fruit...plus 7 1/2 cups of sugar...eek! Brought this to a boil..</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYReP2DvdjjrsB7JHEMhdgRCrxSn-N_Ibua9n_ohRh_OwvphHn4WHClXt0C5x2I7WO3JfeaIeTrP-vtCqHGMs7S_K61eS2id79Gw5vX77rp8YqWzElI0FwpC0xW-MHsvR3RuR7RXR81Gw/s1600/2012-09-30+15.05.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYReP2DvdjjrsB7JHEMhdgRCrxSn-N_Ibua9n_ohRh_OwvphHn4WHClXt0C5x2I7WO3JfeaIeTrP-vtCqHGMs7S_K61eS2id79Gw5vX77rp8YqWzElI0FwpC0xW-MHsvR3RuR7RXR81Gw/s1600/2012-09-30+15.05.18.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then added this stuff...two packages of it. Brought to a boil again for 3-4 minutes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8GdlWFVeO1Mi95pVbnJZwGDEtcc5hnQgoZgxY5K1T_10QwrHXt06wg-vofQ4kAhslFOt6M7wsCU_LHnQhefTIM9MVse6L1Rj1cn9G0DenBi4c5wilqZX0zrnNhvPFAzFhQfJIUgsZY8/s1600/2012-09-30+14.52.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8GdlWFVeO1Mi95pVbnJZwGDEtcc5hnQgoZgxY5K1T_10QwrHXt06wg-vofQ4kAhslFOt6M7wsCU_LHnQhefTIM9MVse6L1Rj1cn9G0DenBi4c5wilqZX0zrnNhvPFAzFhQfJIUgsZY8/s1600/2012-09-30+14.52.24.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Added 1/4 cup of this...the alcohol burns off and it makes the peaches and raspberries taste soooo good! Cost for this...$5.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2j08sNsOgnGdhTCjA-v2S4bVyLY6yAPSxZOLR-AEvtl0uyDit1bo3aNiIlqJoXNYrK_-eDoBGfxoqH36W009mjEiuSOBYF2FfO7fD4p49YXoVkwx01wEVfDcmK5Hup2GD6G-SriCAIc/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poured jam into hot jars, 1/8 inch from the top, screwed on lids, and set upside down to um...suction? I don't have a canner so this was a method I read about online. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilnIsKU_fajyLhVjyLbUN-s3oFDljItXuK2uvqKpEYFxQQU8eJD7ufnZbkwZwBkM3og0GQs6SQMdfj-I68QkzbIfhviFvSs8TZaJhcZHj4xCaKDHG3QEcrnYgeDAB27e0HWVkGgUi9rg/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all done!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwAo3E4hTYUFwUWXUXdSv4IZCe3PbWgRxQyNfCdU0GwzkgT2vu8kNyCklDilXNTa5zsy0VMaHO2-JZx_zn_zSP-52-6pVilEaiNCemdycR4K2Eh8S9ygPoj9wlapxIUqCNsbHnc5xbmg/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The instagram version...right before I freaked out that the jam wasn't really safe so I stuck the jars in the freezer anyways, even after "canning" them. Only $35 to make 8 jars of Peach-Raspberry Amaretto jam. Apprx. $4.50 a jar...<b>not a good deal at all</b>, but it was fun pretending for the day that I was one of those cool jam-making ladies! </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-78922801394235758152012-10-05T09:11:00.000-07:002012-10-05T09:11:25.831-07:0010-10-10 Week One, Getting OrganizedToday marks the one week anniversary of my first <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">real</span> diet expedition since the 10th grade. Don't get me wrong, <i>every</i> year my New Year's Resolution includes "Go on a diet." Or at the very least "Eat Healthy." But I have very little self-discipline in the area of dieting and I have never really taken that particular item on my to-do list seriously. As a rule follower, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I take great satisfaction in breaking the rules that don't really matter. </span> And Dieting rules don't really matter.<br />
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<i><b>Unless of course, I actually need to lose some weight. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">So this week, this is what I did:</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></i>
Day one and two, I tried to keep track of my calories in my phone and keep them at 1300 calories a day. I was mostly successful at this. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">But I whined</span>. I cried. I shook with low blood sugar. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I dreamt about cake (and I don't even like cake).</span> I dragged my feet and basically just took the whole thing NOT in stride and with an overabundance of drama...to the point that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">my sometimes-supportive husband was taking bets </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">against </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">my dieting success. Thanks, hon. </span><br />
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I quickly realized that simply counting calories was not going to work for me. I am an over-thinker as it is, and calorie counting just made my head hurt and made me grumpy. So, on day three, I decided to get organized, stop relying on the internet (which we all know isn't reliable) and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">go to the true source of undisputed knowledge...the library. </span><br />
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After perusing the <i>aisle</i> of diet books, and feeling a bit like a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">dieting-deer-in-the-headlights</span>, I chose a couple books that looked promising - a Jillian Michaels book and one written by two holistic doctors - and read them that night. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KJTNdlYrxpghsRkJmK617wVJpwQjgk9AXVrxLb1-_VCJmuMmzXLBukQ_LGJDK9yYo5XvuyIvfsVOei-Lv5bBedpoLfiR-ePVbAPHyFZwAusEqAK265X49CsIRro1T3-0imMbGwyidhE/s1600/Unknown-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KJTNdlYrxpghsRkJmK617wVJpwQjgk9AXVrxLb1-_VCJmuMmzXLBukQ_LGJDK9yYo5XvuyIvfsVOei-Lv5bBedpoLfiR-ePVbAPHyFZwAusEqAK265X49CsIRro1T3-0imMbGwyidhE/s1600/Unknown-2.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The absolute truth...every one of these.</b></td></tr>
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Day four I wrote out my plan based loosely on what I read in the books (my fat-burning style apparently is mixed? I like protein AND carbs? I shouldn't eat sugar...I should exercise...okay.)<br />
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I did some sprints and lifted weights (which is sooo much better than running long, slow runs...trust me I know - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I trained for a marathon last year and lost </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">not one pound</span></i>). <br />
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All week I ate the same salad for lunch just so I wouldn't have to think about it. Then I went and bought the following: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Beef jerky, rotisserie chicken, broccoli and cabbage slaw, apples, high fiber wheat bread, stevia, almond milk for smoothies, protein powder, a carton of egg whites, salsa and tomatoes, low fat margarine (I had been eating butter on my toast every morning - all those calories!!), and a huge bag of frozen stir fry veggies. </span> Just having the right foods on hand makes such a difference!<br />
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I cut out my five-cups a day of coffee habit to one cup in the morning, and then switched to green tea in the afternoon. <br />
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I am getting 8 hours of sleep at night (no netflix for me...though the new JK Rowlings book may be a temptation to stay up). <br />
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Day five I woke up with energy! I went to bed with energy!! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Honestly I was blaming my thyroid, but maybe it was the coffee, or the butter on my toast, or the sugar...</span><br />
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Day six I realized that pickles have <i>zero</i> calories. If I pay no attention to water weight and hyper-tension, I could totally live off of pickles and vitamins, right?<br />
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Last night I ran into a challenge - I cook for my three growing boys and my metabolically blessed husband and I made them beef stroganoff with real beef, real sour cream and real egg noodles. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> I hadn't planned ahead my own meal and didn't feel like eating one tablespoon of stroganoff, </span> which is about the serving size I could have had. So I stir fried some broccoli slaw and cabbage and chopped rotisserie chicken in a tablespoon of teriyaki. It was yummy, but I had broccoli slaw and cabbage and chicken for lunch, only in salad form. So it was a little redundant. But slowly, but surely I am getting organized, I feel better, I am starting new habits. 9 weeks to go and my bet is on me! (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">for now</span>)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-22631398016556159742012-10-02T08:09:00.001-07:002012-10-02T08:09:52.063-07:00D is for Sock Doggies<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyw-wjF1ixXxuVEZcC7ZsQdLA5uy8y-dGmBmg4yUfxvbxhHj4_DPmM8GY-E-VJOvSYxTdcMFDxLMJwKhSOVV-gF7wpj1sOS9Dn3CPMxFnmnR4P-zKlMOtfcTBWZTxK-KRZFfDxhZpgnw/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyw-wjF1ixXxuVEZcC7ZsQdLA5uy8y-dGmBmg4yUfxvbxhHj4_DPmM8GY-E-VJOvSYxTdcMFDxLMJwKhSOVV-gF7wpj1sOS9Dn3CPMxFnmnR4P-zKlMOtfcTBWZTxK-KRZFfDxhZpgnw/" /></a>Last week we studied the letter D, Benny and me. We made some Dragon Feet out of tissue boxes that we got from the dollar store, emptied of tissue and shoved under the sink to use when we run out of toilet paper. Ben painted them with glitter glue and we cut out the toes from toilet paper rolls. <br />
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Then we decided we wanted to make sock puppets, so in honor of the letter "D" we made sock Doggies which doesn't really have a nice ring to it, does it? But at least it uses the letter "D". We each made a sock doggie and then for good measure I made blue-haired Abigail...since I only own one color of yarn (blue) and I named her Abigail because it just sounded right in the bad southern accent I used when I started puppeting with her. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwORpmBmbwTCUyhR4slK5sOnWk7mBT_Y5kbIjJB6N3wmgGhNGpe4Agb68pUXtl_yy77tVecqvqSep7DX8e_KkM-hXnKmXjwwi84OsHzaURX6F7vxbtkpJq914089sTtv1IFQTQu-GU2s/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwORpmBmbwTCUyhR4slK5sOnWk7mBT_Y5kbIjJB6N3wmgGhNGpe4Agb68pUXtl_yy77tVecqvqSep7DX8e_KkM-hXnKmXjwwi84OsHzaURX6F7vxbtkpJq914089sTtv1IFQTQu-GU2s/" width="400" /></a>Then we decided to make a puppet theater, which doesn't have a "D" anywhere - not in the scarf I cut up to use for curtains, or the string I used to hold them back. Not for the sun made out of cardboard and pipecleaners, or the clouds Ben glued cotton balls on. Nor is there a "D" in the paper grass that Ben colored with marker and taped on by himself or the popsicle sticks he attached to the ceiling of the theater. The apple tree with seed pods and leaves glued on does not teach the letter "D" either. Oh well - we had fun with it. F for Fun. :) <br />
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We of course also practiced writing the letter "D" and walked around the house naming things that start with the letter "D" (which was conspicuously absent from our theater project). We went to the library and got some books about Dinosaurs and Dragons and Dogs. We opened doors, we danced, we ate donuts (he did), we drank (milk) which was delicious I daresay. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYnO0txBa36eN9XSIYSz78cz_TGwB6WNfz0zj37Tia7amly4N0jhMIsPndcCPRSxiWJTPMax9TF_QUwLc0WqsutNd-eQjp945_S9b9T6_ThlsWpSh1sM05Kjp6hxwN0W4L__KEbq2sZw/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYnO0txBa36eN9XSIYSz78cz_TGwB6WNfz0zj37Tia7amly4N0jhMIsPndcCPRSxiWJTPMax9TF_QUwLc0WqsutNd-eQjp945_S9b9T6_ThlsWpSh1sM05Kjp6hxwN0W4L__KEbq2sZw/" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dwayne the Sock Doggie</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2464651403053179045.post-43219410241841501842012-10-01T08:27:00.000-07:002012-10-01T08:35:25.291-07:00Sometimes they're true (stereotypes, that is)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Ryan asked me the other day why I blog...good question.</span></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Since I have already established that I have no real niche - food? crafts? homeschool? mom? wife? smart aleck? - I decided that it is mostly an outlet for me to write and to analyze myself, the world, and everything (and everyone) in it. Another reason, as per my blog title, is to hopefully set up a more realistic picture of what a pastor's wife may or may not look like. </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">The bottom line is, in my real life ups and downs, moderate disfunctions and humanity, I hope to show that pastor's wives are pretty normal and will never live up to the stereotypes that we set for them. </span></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">But, sometimes, they're true. </span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><b>(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">And honestly, that feels like a confession of sorts, because being a messed-up wise-cracking pastor's wife seems so much cooler</span> than being an iced tea drinking, Sunday-school teaching pastor's wife.)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I may not be called "sweet" by too many of my friends, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">have </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">been called "loyal, thoughtful, and authentic." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> I may write grocery lists sometimes on the church bulletin, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">more often than not, I write out real notes and have been deeply convicted by things spoken from the pulpit. </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I don't go to every church potluck...but when I do, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">I really love to cook and will happily taste every dish in attendance and discuss recipes with the best of them. </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I crack jokes, I roll my eyes, I laugh at myself, I sit in the back row sometimes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">But I am a follower of Jesus and I happen to believe that the institution of church and the community it provides is necessary to live out what God calls us to live out and I take that seriously. </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Sometimes I skip my bible study or cram the night before. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">But I don't swear and I don't jay-walk, and I would probably self-combust if I thought I was breaking the law in any way (this was me BEFORE I was a pastor's wife or a Christian for that matter). </span></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">I own a jean skirt. And wear it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> (often at the moment since it is one of the things I can squeeze into).</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">I fight with my kids and my husband, I read books out of the young adults section of the library and Oprah picks, I listen to all genres of music (I like rap and RnB). I hang out with people of different faiths and play hookie from church. I have an addictive personality and will chain-watch shows on netflix till 2 in the morning. As stated in the blog title, I don't have big hair and I don't sing or play piano. A break from stereotype.</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">But I drive a minivan, have fun doing crafts with my kids, am attempting to learn to make jam, wear an apron from 4pm-7pm pretty much every day (ok it's like a bib for clutzy and messy adults), go to bible study with the gals and love it, and trust that in everything I do, whether stereotypical "good Christian girl/pastor's wife" or </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">not so much</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">, that God is in it and He is working. </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">So, whether jam-making, or home-schooling, diet-attempting, or running, church - attending or church-skipping, introspecting or others-analyzing, my purpose in blogging is to chronicle real life - and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">sometimes I will sound and look the way people think I should</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">, and sometimes, I won't. But it will always be (mostly) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">true </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">and it will always be (mostly)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> real</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">. And there are thousands of real bloggers out there and most are probably better than me, but maybe <i>my</i> real will connect with someone else's real which may end up helping us both. </span></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06274838628831011282noreply@blogger.com1