tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44260042757911085662024-03-05T03:14:36.343-05:00These Three Remaina promise to keep...a discipline to embrace...a life to shareSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-35884649974339029592012-10-02T19:01:00.000-04:002012-10-18T09:00:27.018-04:00Mercy 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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More than a year has passed since I posted to any of my blogs and 95% of my personal writing this past year took the form of grocery and to-do lists, the other 5% was comprised of items too intimate for public consumption and an ongoing list of essay ideas. Somehow, as much as I think I want to write, I keep pushing other things ahead of writing. <br />
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I love to write. Time often passes at warp speed when I write. But the more time I let lapse between writing, the harder it is to construct a sentence, let alone an essay. So, to encourage my brain to begin again, I am posting a journal entry/essay from 6-7 years ago, which I recently found when I cleaned out some files. It was one of my early attempts to sort thru and pull clear at least one string from the tangled mess within me. <br />
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<i>EMMANUEL: GOD WITH US DURING SEASONS OF LAMENT AND SILENCE </i><br />
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<i>Is God really with us?... Is God really good?... Is God?</i><br />
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<i>These are questions which for most of my fifty years I would have answered with a hearty, "Yes, Oh yes, OH YES! God is! God is good! God is with us!" And as I said or sang those replies, my mind would have filled with remembered pictures of tender caring and provision in times of need and spilled over into an enthusiastic telling.</i><br />
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<i>These questions are also the source of the themes that have been heavy on my mind for much of this past year of change and joy and lament, weaving themselves into my daily musings, angry questions, journal entries and prayers, into the very fabric of who I am becoming.</i><br />
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<i>Both David's father and mine died within the past 15 months, each after lengthy physical declines over several years. As I watched both our mothers handle the growing burden of giving care and nurture with great love and grace, it seemed to me at times, that their greater suffering came from increasing isolation, as they had to let go of their usual activities and fellowship with family and friends, at the same time that their mates of so many years withdrew into that silent place within. </i><br />
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<i>Between the deaths of our fathers, David and I visited our son, Kyle, and his wife, Michelle, in Kolkata,India. She was six and a half months pregnant with their first child, and they had decided to return to the U.S. to raise their family. David and I, along with Michelle's parents, followed Kyle and Michelle around during their last days in India, walking the streets, surrounded always by outstretched arms, beseeching eyes and murmuring voices asking for rupees. Kyle and Michelle deeply wanted us to understand the heartbreak and frustration they had experienced trying to walk with God and their Word Made Flesh community in that city so crammed with life and death.</i><br />
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<i>David and I are still reeling from the impact, upset and humbled by our "Ugly American" responses to much of what we saw and experienced; unable to fit Calcutta into the world view we carried there. My friends had expected me to come home and begin sharing with them what we had experienced in ways that would broaden their world and encourage them in their choices to love and serve beyond their fences. I had expected to do that also because I had been listening to and sharing Kyle's stories and concerns and wrestling with his lifestyle changes for several years.</i><br />
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<i>But instead, I became mute. I was angry that our few photographs from Calcutta looked so colorful and bright, angry that they hid the incredible air pollution and dirt and death. I was unable to articulate either in speech or writing in coherent words the huge questions that wrestled for prominence in my mind.</i><br />
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<i>So over the spring and summer and fall, as we moved Kyle and Michelle and then joy itself , baby Isaac, into and out of our home, as David and I bowed under the stress of one of our most challenging years yet in our business, as I drove the interstate back and forth to be with my mother and father, the unanswered questions raised by Calcutta mixed and joined with the grief that continues to slip into our days on cat's feet.</i><br />
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<i>Our year and our hearts became characterized by lament. We withdrew - physically and emotionally from others. We asked angry questions about the Church and our choices and the God we thought we had known. We despaired of our decades of giving to and serving others making a difference in any measurable way. We drew our family into a tight circle and we sighed together. And in the midst of all the lament, we cried out for mercy.</i><br />
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<i>Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy.</i><br />
<i>One of the earliest prayers of the Christian church has become my daily bread.</i><br />
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There ends my unfinished essay from 6-7 years ago. <br />
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But I did not tell of the prophet Jeremiah's recitation of mercy which David and I spoke in bed together just before sleep and soon after waking, almost daily, for a season, which I cannot, with certainty, place chronologically.<br />
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<i>Because of the LORD"s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.</i><br />
<i>They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness.</i><br />
<i>I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."</i><br />
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Daily struggles and sorrow I had not imagined were beginning to carve grooves in our family and I would need that mercy cry even more, though I could not speak the words. <br />
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My own experience of troubles and sorrow pales like an ivory spot on white paper in comparison to the suffering of multitudes of people around the globe. These seven years later I am still learning to live the mercy prayer: to sleep, hoping for mercy, and to wake, looking for compassion with the morning light, and to hold "Kyrie eleison, Lord, have mercy" on my tongue and in my hands. <br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-63119573814048714122011-08-06T16:24:00.000-04:002011-08-06T16:24:12.817-04:00BOYS!I love boys! <br />
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Last weekend when we were working on the house, I heard Michelle's startled "OH, NO....boys, come back here! " holler when she discovered the boys using the 6 ft fence's top cross board to move along the back neighbor's top fence like squirrels. I was up in the snorkel lift with David at the time, placing shingle panels on the gable, and I can tell you, they were close to the far end of the neighbor's garage along the neighbor's side fence when Michelle spotted them. hehehe. By the time she was able to get the camera ready to shoot they had made it back to their own back fence.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49XYwuO6pH-n5v7qxbXcgrbjYqskz4IYOIvhSi6TJKQYnUBXr9GpK7tFifZsrCRRDXr2qvi6-UR0nTlReuceoAuAWhsq_R44zYxE01HJcosywowf96eb5VkZxexnf7pWdspizj9V29iIN/s1600/DSCN4342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49XYwuO6pH-n5v7qxbXcgrbjYqskz4IYOIvhSi6TJKQYnUBXr9GpK7tFifZsrCRRDXr2qvi6-UR0nTlReuceoAuAWhsq_R44zYxE01HJcosywowf96eb5VkZxexnf7pWdspizj9V29iIN/s400/DSCN4342.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And just in case you missed the triumphant display of boyhood...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uPgMR7PJNsV9X43BJXCRXalahoChpSYYIaouo_QtT1A2njGq3UAJze4kUAktAgy_6qixFwHmtCdicPc8fhbI7TQXiDnn6GTRi6ZEuxOSDeokJpmrFk2t8s8Ys8u9QybGjIf-_ft-oVZ9/s1600/DSCN4342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uPgMR7PJNsV9X43BJXCRXalahoChpSYYIaouo_QtT1A2njGq3UAJze4kUAktAgy_6qixFwHmtCdicPc8fhbI7TQXiDnn6GTRi6ZEuxOSDeokJpmrFk2t8s8Ys8u9QybGjIf-_ft-oVZ9/s400/DSCN4342.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I remember a college professor sharing a "kids story" with our class to illustrate parental discernment and wisdom in reserving spankings for clear acts of direct parental disobedience, NOT for youthful exuberance or exploration. His elementary son and daughter had been nowhere to be seen in house or yard for awhile, and when they arrived home a little later, they were all dirt and smiles, relating to mom and dad excited stories of exploring underground "tunnels" in the neighborhood. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>And I am pretty certain, from all the excitement, adrenalin-loving moments, this young'un has already displayed (see 5th photo down on <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/p/few-photos-by-me.html">this link</a>), I'm certain he will have his own as well as shared exploits. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yfWLMFHU_9Qrrsu3G2LFd4-3-h92T6z7tGmN9fN-20P-xWNTKCS35Gd4-9Fxx9nothmuiepTfTwcHeUYlgYPzfzu9pKZGj7kfmBKoFxdkWWqEkD6qUtMOpRcOvNjm7gDNuJ0EsCJ1HlC/s1600/DSCN4309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yfWLMFHU_9Qrrsu3G2LFd4-3-h92T6z7tGmN9fN-20P-xWNTKCS35Gd4-9Fxx9nothmuiepTfTwcHeUYlgYPzfzu9pKZGj7kfmBKoFxdkWWqEkD6qUtMOpRcOvNjm7gDNuJ0EsCJ1HlC/s400/DSCN4309.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-56356337716631280882011-06-20T21:14:00.004-04:002011-06-21T08:32:50.949-04:00Triathlon TaleIsaac participated in his second triathlon for kids this past weekend. You'll find photos and story <a href="http://torchdefitness.blogspot.com/">here</a>.<br />
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The waves of racers start with the oldest kids (13-15 year olds) and finishes with the 5-6 year old group. Who can watch small riders pedaling out onto the bike course with training wheels and <i>not</i> smile?<br />
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After 5 or 6 of the training wheel riders had passed me, I turned back to see 2 more boys with training wheels, separated by at least 40 feet and going almost exactly the same speed. The second boy remembered the "bike passing etiquette" instructions they'd all been given at the start of the race and called out loudly "PASSING ON YOUR LEFT!" <br />
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What good manners...what self-confidence...what total mis-judgement of one's relative speed! <br />
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He tried so hard to overtake the rider ahead of him that he took the turn too fast for his training wheels and balance and he lost it.....but quickly hopped back on and headed out. I would love to have heard his version of the story to his parents after the race. :-)<br />
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Good times for spectators at Seminole's Tri If You Dare triathlon for kids. A few parents get a little INTENSE in their coaching, but mostly it's kids looking like they're enjoying the challenge and the fun of competition.<br />
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<a href="http://torchdefitness.blogspot.com/2011/06/tri-if-you-dare.html"> Check out The Fitness Torch for a classic runner's duel photo from this race.</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFrLaTJUxIb8fkMrm0S6Kspk_Vo0y8YqisO8O5N8WoZXQ75C-pAn4RHgQ-eg8jiVG22t52kK8TdawKwH4vqOgSEHFn7yScTDhTDtCo1v7rRD3rYiJ5s3OFmPAAAxZTGOrNAx5vdINiuzk/s1600/DSCN4230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFrLaTJUxIb8fkMrm0S6Kspk_Vo0y8YqisO8O5N8WoZXQ75C-pAn4RHgQ-eg8jiVG22t52kK8TdawKwH4vqOgSEHFn7yScTDhTDtCo1v7rRD3rYiJ5s3OFmPAAAxZTGOrNAx5vdINiuzk/s400/DSCN4230.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-72053246226940266802011-06-14T21:22:00.000-04:002011-06-14T21:22:42.998-04:00Connecting the Dots From Guilt to Freedom<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'PT Sans'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"></span><br />
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<div align="center"><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/" title="Amber's Articles"><img alt="Amber's Articles" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5268/5638572964_1ec8458d07.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div><br />
I've had lots of conversations with various people, over the years, about the life-changing dynamic of forgiveness, but two, in particular, have been on my mind in recent days. <br />
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About thirty years ago David and I shared a dinner table with a couple who were strangers to us in a darkened theatre for a community musical production. The older man across the table found a statement I'd just made about being forgiven for my crimes against God hard to believe: "Surely you don't expect me to believe that <i>you</i> have sinned? - a sweet, young woman like yourself can't have done anything bad enough yet to qualify as sin." I insisted that indeed I had, and named a few of my actions which I considered to be transgressions. He remained unconvinced that I had committed anything so seriously wrong to qualify as sin, and I was surprised that he reserved the label of "sinner" for people who committed murder and other "serious offenses". . . Clearly, we had different definitions of sin and guilt. <br />
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Flash forward three decades to a conversation with a friend who was preparing to divorce her husband. I asked her a question to gauge her awareness of her own possible contributions to the destruction of their union. She was in her forties, and I figured she was plenty old enough and had been married long enough to have realized how some of her own actions, attitudes, and inadequacies - not just her husband's transgressions - might have also pushed the two of them to move from lovers to adversaries. She seemed shocked that I would ask such a question, replied "<i>I </i>haven't done anything", proceeded to recount "the short list" of her virtues stacked alongside her husband's offenses, then repeated her declaration of personal innocence. <br />
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I was stunned into silence. I, too, could have recited a short list of my husband's faults and offenses against me (from my perspective:-), but I could also list plenty of my own faults and offenses against him in our relationship. I'd had opportunity to look and truly see times and ways when I had failed to love and treat my husband the same way God (and even my husband:-) had loved and treated me. I cast about in my memory bank, trying to remember when the recognition of my own faults and offenses within our marriage first began to rival the inner list of offenses I charged to David. <br />
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I knew I'd been a VERY slow learner in acknowledging my own contributions to our conflicts, but surely by age forty I'd been able to own some blame for our conflicts - hadn't I? Well, to be honest.....careful scrutiny of my memory bank made me admit and grieve that I had wasted DECADES looking at my actions and and attitudes in our marriage through lenses of self-interest, self-protection and self-righteousness. I had (and alas, <i>still</i> have) an incredibly strong knee-jerk reaction to criticism or correction instead of listening, with an open, teachable heart to the person who is criticizing or correcting me. I'm working on it, I've made some improvement, but still, I have a long way to go.<br />
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That conversation with my friend reminded me what a gift it is to be able to see my failures and inadequacies in loving my husband - or any other another person in my life - from their perspective, and what a gift it is to be able to own guilt in wrong-doing. Because having both a clear awareness of my own transgressions and also clear memories of having been forgiven myself, help move me to WANT to forgive my husband's (or another person's) transgressions against me. In fact, the connection between receiving forgiveness myself and offering it to another has been so strong in my own life that I wonder if a person is able to give true, full forgiveness to another person and experience the resulting freedom WITHOUT the awareness of having been forgiven transgressions oneself. <br />
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Amber has posted a great article about how to apply this dynamic of forgiveness in your own life. Find it <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2011/06/journey-of-faith-friday-forgiveness.html">here</a>.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-56008449557327946292011-03-28T09:41:00.000-04:002011-03-28T09:41:50.373-04:00Slowing TimeEven though I'd heard this since I <i>was</i> a child, I still marvel how much faster time seems to slip by at 55 years old, than when I was a child. But it does seem that one good way of slowing it down is to "look for the joy" in each day, finding, noting, and deliberately holding in our minds and on our tongues and fingertips gifts from every day's moments for which to thank God. I give thanks for:<br />
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221. wonderful weather, perfect for painting the house,<br />
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222. two weekends in a row,<br />
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223. allowing us to finish painting the 2nd story trim, soffit and exterior walls moments before the sun went down Sunday night,<br />
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224. on the last day we would have the free scaffolding<br />
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225. bucket truck to help us reach trim higher than scaffolding<br />
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226. bonus time with Amber and Bennett, who stayed with us while Sam was away<br />
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227. quiet walk together and playground exploration<br />
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228. the total surprise of heart-pounding adrenalin fear coursing through veins when I try to pull myself onto second level of scaffold without side or cross bars, setting up challenge for both weekends (I LOVED climbing trees as a kid)<br />
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229. several more attempts to let rational thought conquer adrenalin history of unsteady balance and swaying head...adrenalin wins again and I am reminded that cilia stiffens and fluid thickens as inner ear ages<br />
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230. bucket truck to lift me and husband to talk me through transferring my weight to the rattling "OSHA approved" cotter clipped crossbar of the second level scaffold section with handrails (this picture blurred by bounce of bucket, but perhaps an accurate portrayal of my pounding heart?)<br />
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231. deep breathing and eyes focused on roofline and soffit to slow my heart pump and steady my feet on planks to paint<br />
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232. second weekend confidence gained through pulling myself up and down numerous times, body and balance adjusting to walks along double and single planks with paint pan and roller in hand<br />
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233. daughter-in-law who refused to let <i>her</i> fear limit where she could work and by the end of the second weekend was readily walking on the roof and across single planks without handrails or building to hold for balance security<br />
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234. smiles and waves from high in the bucket truck with Grandpa<br />
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235. noisy joy of 4 cousins together, the 3 older all vying for the youngest's attention<br />
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236. energy enough in tired body to play backyard games of lion-hunt<br />
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237. boys learning to climb trees<br />
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238. young boy's giggles, learning to skip<br />
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239. osprey hovering, its forward progress halted by strong wind over lake<br />
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240. for "almost 6" boy dashing inside, bean sprout in hand, excitement over the first growth popping through the dirt, almost more than his body can contain "Look, Grandma, the bean seed is GROWING!"<br />
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241. osprey flying to young ones in high nest on pole, carrying mouse or mole in its talons<br />
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242. pitter-patter plop of hard oak leaves dropping to ground in back yard<br />
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242. 3 standing and gazing at bright, bright moon<br />
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244. apogee moon, closest full moon distance in 18 years<br />
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245. heading to the beach for the next evening's "big show"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPINVpnENzzEtbM4hoQguB9WPLR9Z4uiQfwV4-05mpHmw02V8Ca_sv6cHnMzASOefni7s4Rt9ePbCxuD_JILaiLpxb6CHkUR8WMCvINEB0nvvv2dWoy5A3Q-hufmMRB5HWV7YF4wsptK-/s1600/DSCN3657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPINVpnENzzEtbM4hoQguB9WPLR9Z4uiQfwV4-05mpHmw02V8Ca_sv6cHnMzASOefni7s4Rt9ePbCxuD_JILaiLpxb6CHkUR8WMCvINEB0nvvv2dWoy5A3Q-hufmMRB5HWV7YF4wsptK-/s400/DSCN3657.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-65929756240299309142011-03-25T19:05:00.001-04:002011-03-25T19:09:13.230-04:00Painting CrewThese past few few (exhausting) weekends have been filled with painting the exterior of the new family house, and I thought you might enjoy some of the photos as much as me.<br />
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After a few hours of real house painting, painting while standing on level ground was simply too tame for Isaac and "I do everything Isaac does" Eli. So discarded forms were put to use as ladders. <br />
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Grandpa David taught the kids how to balance their paint tray on the 5 gallon bucket. But I'm guessing he didn't anticipate they'd do it while squatting on a ladder. <br />
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Before she started painting each day, Michelle would pack coolers and snack bags AND assemble dinner in the crock pot which she carried to the job site for supper.<br />
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Seriously, can a painter get much cuter than this?<br />
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The kids really enjoyed painting. I love their concentration...especially the tongue. (Click to enlarge)<br />
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Kyle and Michelle have done wonderfully at involving each of the kids in the WORK of the house building so they can have the satisfaction of helping to build it, and hopefully ownership in helping to take care of it as well.<br />
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Grandpa David found out just how little individual work the adult who is "supervising" the kids gets done, what with filling paint trays and smoothing out blotches and runs for the half-pint helpers.<br />
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CONCENTRATION<br />
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Dried on dirt from previous rains had to be brushed off before painting the stucco. If only I approached ALL my work with this much joy and anticipation.<br />
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Isaac was so happy to be painting, that most of the weekend he was humming while he worked.<br />
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We are proud to be WORKERS!<br />
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I have always admired how HARD David pushes himself, but after painting 2 full days in a row of contorting my neck and shoulders to paint the trim under the soffit from the ladder, I have even more respect - He had done it even longer the weekend before. I bought those big butt pants several years ago and have been saving them all this time just to paint in :-)<br />
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David keeps the rest of us adults in the family laughing at his attempts to communicate with Prema, but he worked with her for hours both days that particular weekend, and when he told her (through an interpreter :-) that she had done a good job painting that day, she just BEAMED.<br />
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I took all the painting photos on the weekend that Kyle was installing electrical on the inside, so this is the best I can do. He's worked many nights after work in addition to the weekends for months and months, and will have plenty more ahead before it is finished, but I'm pretty sure he will say it was worth all the planning, stress and hard work.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-54648765872746661102011-02-09T21:44:00.000-05:002011-02-09T21:44:21.524-05:00Gratitude Dancing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1D-0OuvFMv952AzZQDfJ1VmjWfpKcByIVxqCqLC_IOpT68917ZrcS65M7aEyYIe4Ma5sdAxw0xuMZ4zhaWnqedS5Z3wsc6wD0rrnRWZrnP-RJlo4MO87VeLjdoDU5JcyBhPC1UtPUEdN/s1600/RSCN3022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1D-0OuvFMv952AzZQDfJ1VmjWfpKcByIVxqCqLC_IOpT68917ZrcS65M7aEyYIe4Ma5sdAxw0xuMZ4zhaWnqedS5Z3wsc6wD0rrnRWZrnP-RJlo4MO87VeLjdoDU5JcyBhPC1UtPUEdN/s400/RSCN3022.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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Thanksgivings have filled my heart but not my blogs in recent days so I return to the happy discipline of public posting of gratitude for ...<br />
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171. rhythm of rain remains, dripping from spout, metronome ticking<br />
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172. quiet room in quiet house for connection with mate<br />
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173. hand-drawn placard from 5 year old hands, cheering his team in Super Bowl contest<br />
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174. those eyes all asparkle with pride and delight at the letters and logo which he has penned<br />
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175. memories re-visited of his father as child, pencil in hand, focus intent, making his own baseball cards<br />
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176. simple pleasure of fixing fun foods for relaxed evening of family together<br />
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177. daughter-in-law's furrowed brow and strong will to TACKLE, LEARN, CONQUER certain "adult duty"<br />
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178. her husband's shake of knowing head and laughing eyes<br />
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179. as both her husband and mine offer specific help with the task<br />
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180. gym and elliptical and substantial weights to push this body, heavy with so much recent rest & reflection<br />
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181. for the sweaty satisfaaction of pushing myself through to complete the duration of cardio<br />
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182. and the remembrance of past gym challenges, dreads and conquerings<br />
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183. and the confidence it gives me now that "I CAN DO THIS"<br />
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184. for BOISTEROUS boys bursting through door ready to PLAY!<br />
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185. that grand-daughter can see, though she can't hear<br />
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186. and whose heart and brain has healed enough<br />
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187. to sit quietly and turn slowly through pages of magazine, looking, truly looking at each page, not blindly flipping through pages in big clumps just to get to end and grab the next book<br />
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188. for ping-pong table alive with a three generation game<br />
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189. and paddles given names by boisterous boys to commemorate their past performances in games<br />
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190. chalkboard that becomes a "tally board" beneath small fingers with fat chalk penning large numbers<br />
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191. for son and daughter-in-law who continue to share joy by their willingness to endure looong protests from tot in infant seat during their drives across the bay to our weekly meal together<br />
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192. for grandson who emerges from car with deliberate ten-month-old wave of greeting and loud, practiced "Hi!" that shakes the laughter from brim-full cups of delight<br />
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193. for tired body and joy filled heart after day of cleaning and cooking for this hungry appreciative crew of children and grands<br />
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194. for daughters-in-law - different in so many ways - who are building their connection with deliberate attention, appreciation and respect<br />
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195. and are growing in enjoyment of their husbands' verbal courting :-)<br />
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I am thankful:<br />
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196. for weeks of days steady with <i>trying</i> and continual <i>returning</i> to my lists of "must-do's"<br />
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197. for calm acceptance (finally!) of certain odius tasks outside my desires and skill set<br />
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198. for freedom to be flexible and peace to push tasks aside to make room in "my day" for others' needs, and concerns<br />
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199. for the hard-won calm of heart that can finally focus (some days:-) on what <i>has</i> been accompished and given and not just what remains to be done<br />
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200. for long training to learn to accept my inadequacies as gift, as ever-present proof of creature-li-ness and invitation to delight in others' gifts and accomplishments<br />
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201. for training to see my performance mistakes and inadequacies as chances to give the gift of "MODELING IMPERFECTION" with humility, laughter and grace to those around me who push <i>themselves </i>so hard.<br />
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202. for the end of a decade-long responsibility which I have at various times resented and stressed over, accepted and stressed over, "seen the good side of" and stressed over, loathed and stressed over, and, finally, turned over to others :-)!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-52108510594195741942010-12-26T14:56:00.001-05:002010-12-31T10:02:02.628-05:00I Wonder What Those Changing Lovers Do....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqCYU17xohV0AHjcGIG62wPh6EUKdwyIvowySOdqLcUK2pYe3SVw6ImHqOzQeR5mneEL2t-FXNtJpYjzDRnCQspyOgce9VBqNTb3m1REP7bA5AUr_p_Cc3TJXPH3XSHEFsyv2O_Ai4Z3e/s1600/sc007b2d0e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqCYU17xohV0AHjcGIG62wPh6EUKdwyIvowySOdqLcUK2pYe3SVw6ImHqOzQeR5mneEL2t-FXNtJpYjzDRnCQspyOgce9VBqNTb3m1REP7bA5AUr_p_Cc3TJXPH3XSHEFsyv2O_Ai4Z3e/s400/sc007b2d0e.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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David and I got to have some quiet hours together, just the two of us, yesterday on Christmas, and we spent some of it in each others arms talking about our 35 years of marriage (our anniversary is today), thinking about how much we've learned from one another and changed because of each other's influence. <br />
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We wondered what the percentage would be of American couples of our generation who, at 35 years of marriage, still love AND LIKE each other (though I might have to resort to violence if we spent all our waking hours together :-). I told David I would marry him all over again, even knowing now all the challenges and conflict we would struggle through and David told me, as he has before, that if he had it to do over he would have married me several years sooner - precluding some of our challenges and no doubt substituting others. We emphatically agreed that we were NOT willing to start all over with someone else.<br />
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So anyway, I thought I might attempt to use posts on this and <a href="http://sandycullum.blogspot.com/">The View From Here</a> over the next several weeks to give thanks for my husband, reflect on marriage, and share several poems by others.<br />
<br />
Two years before David and I married, before we were even dating, I read a poem for my Oral Interpretation class written by Archibald McLeish, in which he reflected on a photograph of himself and his wife early in marriage and on their many years of sharing life together. I remember telling the class that the poem demonstrated his positive view of life-long marriage and mutual commitments to choose to love. I told them that I liked the poem because it reminded me of the marriage my parents modeled for me, even though they had not traveled the world like the McLeish's. I told them I hoped one day, to look back on my own marriage with the same positive view point. <br />
<br />
A portion of the poem was available online. McLeish is looking at the young wife before him in the photograph:<br />
<br />
<i> Do you think of waking in the all-night train,</i><br />
<i> The curtains drawn, the Mediterranean</i><br />
<i> Blue, blue, and the sellers of oranges</i><br />
<i> Holding heapedup morning toward you?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i> Do you think of Kumomoto-Ken</i><br />
<i> Do you think how Santiago stands at</i><br />
<i> Night under its stars, under its Andes:</i><br />
<i> Its bells like heavy birds that climb</i><br />
<i> Widening circles out of time?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i> I saw them too. I know those places.</i><br />
<i> There are no mountains - scarcely a face </i><br />
<i> Of all the faces you have seen,</i><br />
<i> Or a town or a room, but I have seen it.</i><br />
<i> Even at dusk in the deep chair</i><br />
<i> Letting the long past take you, bear you -</i><br />
<i> Even then you never leave me, never can</i><br />
<i> Your eyes close, your small hands</i><br />
<i> Keep their secrets in your lap;</i><br />
<i> Wherever you are we two were happy.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i> I wonder what those changing lovers do,</i><br />
<i> Watching each other in the darkening room,</i><br />
<i> Whose world together is the nights they've shared;</i><br />
<i> Whose past is parting: strangers side by side.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I'm very grateful that both David and I had parents who modeled commitment, kindness, fidelity and truly <i>caring for </i>one another in marriage. And I'm so thankful that David and I have both determined over and over again to also choose those life disciplines and to forgive each other as often as we have hurt each other in our 35 years together.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1Pq9rfLc9OlzBIM5QrO6htvJH7zW0cZAypxOJHPQwwoJ_7Yg9FRKKLf0LBDbo6YAlasvrYnRD0PZJIRK2Xq80tPtit4mK5sHaxlm00ZRbT1M1v7HMXHbFEdgaig8iCQI6cNH9UAZvw0M/s1600/Anchorage%252C+kenai+peninsula+09+09-076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1Pq9rfLc9OlzBIM5QrO6htvJH7zW0cZAypxOJHPQwwoJ_7Yg9FRKKLf0LBDbo6YAlasvrYnRD0PZJIRK2Xq80tPtit4mK5sHaxlm00ZRbT1M1v7HMXHbFEdgaig8iCQI6cNH9UAZvw0M/s400/Anchorage%252C+kenai+peninsula+09+09-076.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-49494514018498451862010-12-08T07:48:00.002-05:002011-02-10T12:27:59.875-05:00Listen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfTSD3CByWNFjEzglG9j9FikR_4Q7c5wcikbvlXaYQL-Qck9rpXQ-mScmgafjaK21vxeq0fBQCCT6lHCrmTlFeofWGgI21CRTaDswjKFMqzxpcsxXFSXnQvR0jLHAbYZirM6UV0RxAX-I/s1600/Camera+Dump+9+9+08-294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfTSD3CByWNFjEzglG9j9FikR_4Q7c5wcikbvlXaYQL-Qck9rpXQ-mScmgafjaK21vxeq0fBQCCT6lHCrmTlFeofWGgI21CRTaDswjKFMqzxpcsxXFSXnQvR0jLHAbYZirM6UV0RxAX-I/s400/Camera+Dump+9+9+08-294.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The crunch of dried berries, hard, underfoot, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>on my walk to the park after days of no rain.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The sharp POP of acorn shot from its cap</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>by the wind, in the night, on the hood of my car.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The whispering rustle of palm fronds in wind,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>greet me during day, croon lullaby at night.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Startled cry of moorhen </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>when long neck of crane, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>motoring submerged, periscopes from water</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>surveying the shore.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Infant chatter in stroller and car seat, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>rolling bright sounds through throat, tongue and teeth.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Raucous shouts and laughter of young boys making chase</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>on hard tiled floor with wagon and cart.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Snatches of conversation, overheard on the trail,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>injecting mystery and story and marvel</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>that love endures at all.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Quiet chats with daughters-in-law,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>across lunch table, in back of car, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>punctuated always with children sounds, life noise.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The laughter of Brunit, unfettered, free,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>her hope now found in crossbar </i><i>of tree.</i></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">For this Multitude Monday I thank God for sounds of life and joy from my week.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK40R6az__VFsFpeIcxZgIUtkbTHGkPWk6wosuZJSzlc0-mMOu1tqjJI2tK0K04bB-F9IBFb5UfrR2r-w8fKvY0EM8kYkn4tNRKqRDbcMyfncMecNC3WKxNAkmsBYWle0M1T_j4yfzYHbV/s1600/DSCN0704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK40R6az__VFsFpeIcxZgIUtkbTHGkPWk6wosuZJSzlc0-mMOu1tqjJI2tK0K04bB-F9IBFb5UfrR2r-w8fKvY0EM8kYkn4tNRKqRDbcMyfncMecNC3WKxNAkmsBYWle0M1T_j4yfzYHbV/s400/DSCN0704.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let the sea resound, and everything in it,</div><div style="text-align: center;">the world, and all who live in it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let the rivers clap their hands,</div><div style="text-align: center;">let the mountains sing together for joy;</div><div style="text-align: center;">let them sing before the LORD,</div><div style="text-align: center;">for he comes to judge the earth.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He will judge the world in righteousness</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the peoples with equity.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This hope I hold and celebrate this Christmas:</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>God, the Lamb, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>born in barn, </i><br />
<i>stretched on tree,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>judges all </i><br />
<i>with love forged </i><br />
<i>equity.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I will trust His heart.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-70743682526523359962010-11-09T08:44:00.000-05:002010-11-09T08:44:12.203-05:00Blog Flux<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBK0i784piDsrN9AmtJ1Pc-J4zAMode506nBqpx47uRS-HMJSxzXVoISFPPlzJYgV7314JzfMBPGVqT4WIx8TisjvlDYOlkqmxkxHrCyk__4DhWvmtDLhfEQ8wE3WDs751l862aiQNRhb/s1600/DSCN1942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBK0i784piDsrN9AmtJ1Pc-J4zAMode506nBqpx47uRS-HMJSxzXVoISFPPlzJYgV7314JzfMBPGVqT4WIx8TisjvlDYOlkqmxkxHrCyk__4DhWvmtDLhfEQ8wE3WDs751l862aiQNRhb/s400/DSCN1942.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am a very slow decision maker. <br />
<br />
Understatement. <br />
<br />
I rue the hours that have mounted up over the years standing in a store aisle trying to decide between gifts for a loved one, or sitting THINKING for way too long about which task on my list has the highest priority NOW! I can see a couple benefits of this personality characteristic, but mostly, in my culture, its a liability I struggle with continually.<br />
<br />
I recently started another blog with similar content, in order to escape the box of the "sandystrugglestospeak" URL I chose several years ago, in favor of an URL that is simply my name.<br />
<br />
I am still deciding what each blog will grow up to be and how to share and divide content between them, but for now I am posting to both. <br />
<br />
So you may also find me at: <a href="http://sandycullum.blogspot.com/">http://sandycullum.blogspot.com</a>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-69701585924673376362010-10-08T11:38:00.000-04:002010-10-08T11:38:12.093-04:00Take Two on BJ's Protein Muffins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVVNqy_yuRXxo8LnarPsMYMkNyfFTS61PbRcrzK65QLHIaBpLwJVW2nWVMRLtrbnV8_iwnBRw-3-StwsJq6Y3wHqd8U_wW870QPVZEP7WPf-jE30K_OLddrGFD54lnCZpcITiN-EqrwkQ/s1600/DSCN1928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVVNqy_yuRXxo8LnarPsMYMkNyfFTS61PbRcrzK65QLHIaBpLwJVW2nWVMRLtrbnV8_iwnBRw-3-StwsJq6Y3wHqd8U_wW870QPVZEP7WPf-jE30K_OLddrGFD54lnCZpcITiN-EqrwkQ/s320/DSCN1928.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
An intriguing picture from the October 2010 Triathlete magazine of a dumbbell baked into a giant muffin caught my eye, but the recipe from BJ Gumkowski, a five time Ironman, intrigued me even more, since I've been on the lookout for a low fat, high protein, low sugar, high fiber muffin that actually tastes good and doesn't resemble cardboard when you chew it. I've made my own variation of the recipe twice now, and the results have been good enough to call this recipe a definite keeper. I'll post the recipe for the way I made it yesterday. They won't really rise, but thanks to the egg whites, they are surprisingly "light". I will continue to try this recipe with many variations.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_Mx5TwsVGKR42q68MgnjZa4Ze-mcPR4FZ3YjKqlDpdMpopSaGNWjM2-2IUhwi5f4a-VEpgZp8yiXU_IUsTZal9aVw7MsDVpjETDDJ_uTL1ix-mlOSzue8Go_UfGN60nTx5q7ySvOymWk/s1600/DSCN1926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_Mx5TwsVGKR42q68MgnjZa4Ze-mcPR4FZ3YjKqlDpdMpopSaGNWjM2-2IUhwi5f4a-VEpgZp8yiXU_IUsTZal9aVw7MsDVpjETDDJ_uTL1ix-mlOSzue8Go_UfGN60nTx5q7ySvOymWk/s320/DSCN1926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray muffin tin with cooking oil (or grease with coconut oil). I used a medium size non-stick muffin tin for 12 muffins using about 1/3 cup mix in each.<br />
<br />
Mix together in the order listed:<br />
1 cup of dry oatmeal (I used quick oats for this recipe, but old fashioned would work also)<br />
1/4 cup ground flax seed<br />
1/4 cup wheat germ<br />
1/3 cup all bran cereal (the twig type)*<br />
1 cup egg whites<br />
1 ripe pear, diced or grated (the original recipe called for unsweetened cinnamon applesauce)<br />
1/2 cup pumpkin (just pumpkin, not the pie mix)<br />
1/4 cup non-fat plain yogurt (use mashed cottage cheese and/or milk if you don't have yogurt)<br />
1 Tablespoon almond nut butter (peanut butter is fine)<br />
1 full banana, sliced, diced, or mushed**<br />
2 Tablespoons of agave nectar or honey (listed as optional on the original recipe)<br />
<br />
Mix ingredients until all are wet and evenly distributed, then add the blueberries.<br />
1 cup of fresh or frozen blueberries***<br />
<br />
Bake 25 minutes at 350. Leave the muffins in the pan for a while after so they can finish cooking - they are very moist. I turned mine in the pan after 5-10 minutes, so the bottoms wouldn't get soggy, and I think I popped them back in the already cooling oven for a big longer before removing.<br />
<br />
* I used this combination of grains in place of 1 and 1/2 cup of oat bran called for in the original recipe.<br />
<br />
**I like to throw my over-ripe bananas in their skin in the freezer, then I microwave for 1 minute at high power, cut the stalk end off and squeeze the banana like a toothpaste tube, starting at the end opposite the cut. The banana will goosh nicely out of the skin, usually with no mess whatsoever.<br />
<br />
***I used frozen blueberries both times I made this recipe. The first time I tossed them in frozen, but this time my berries were tiny and covered in freezer frost, so I thawed enough (drink the juice, don't toss it:-) to make a cup.<br />
<br />
The next time I make this version, I'll add some cinnamon and some almond extract.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-830847078071113992010-10-04T15:24:00.008-04:002010-10-04T15:44:26.554-04:00Gratitude Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCk_htXRvTnFB4J5nrPxT5WUTiUx528yBvOFCk5WpyKz7WKlOsYOYZ__RYn47MVEpYeGK9qa5Sc08AzzBRVx5d2i86JOdDPnXLmTWAHkjw1FnDLMVibci2dR1DPlQaPFIhkUi1ghSo_l0w/s1600/DSCN1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCk_htXRvTnFB4J5nrPxT5WUTiUx528yBvOFCk5WpyKz7WKlOsYOYZ__RYn47MVEpYeGK9qa5Sc08AzzBRVx5d2i86JOdDPnXLmTWAHkjw1FnDLMVibci2dR1DPlQaPFIhkUi1ghSo_l0w/s400/DSCN1867.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
133. I had a brief, unanticipated meeting with an old friend as I walked in the park Sunday morning.<br />
<br />
134. Though I smiled inwardly at this friend's ready assertion to me of personal attendance at a worship service earlier that morning and wondered if a smile might come to his face if he knew how few corporate worship services I'd taken part in these past few years<br />
<br />
136. I greatly appreciated his transparent admission of entering world view quandaries and theological struggles similar to some of mine<br />
<br />
137. and the few moments of empathic conversation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hyp6IlIhcDXOdlt72yoBkTVadj1LY2kaSDGx6W-0ViDW8REegxI7g3ItJYTJd-IsLFNBiAhvEzycJ4fSF_ZIzTs6sp3ZbNPAADcLS7DCNRUy5E1JWrCuN6LT23XX1vhs36Ss4VX7sryf/s1600/DSCN1899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hyp6IlIhcDXOdlt72yoBkTVadj1LY2kaSDGx6W-0ViDW8REegxI7g3ItJYTJd-IsLFNBiAhvEzycJ4fSF_ZIzTs6sp3ZbNPAADcLS7DCNRUy5E1JWrCuN6LT23XX1vhs36Ss4VX7sryf/s400/DSCN1899.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
138. I returned to photographing the water lilies before hurrying home to dinner with my husband and son and his always lively family.<br />
<br />
139. The intentional "gratitude walk" with camera in hand, had succeeded, as it almost always does, in turning my thoughts to thankfulness to God for the beauty that surrounds me<br />
<br />
140. and for the gifts of a safe community in which to walk<br />
<br />
141. and the awe and inner relaxing and reordering of thoughts that awaits when I step outside.<br />
<br />
141. Thank you, God, for healthy grandsons and a morning at the park staging "zoo animals" for photos<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHK6GJfix0AGw1P1rSzO7tnjHYzpHt7GsKQkJAnxZm_JdQNl1GxEI8GlYcBMxjy-D8Fqj0CzTNmf6uZk6BzIt2a7JP8YbL4OjPrCvtPxkeXXPjr5E8-upypgBqkqFnqAj7_4BueHRF-XV/s1600/DSCN1728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHK6GJfix0AGw1P1rSzO7tnjHYzpHt7GsKQkJAnxZm_JdQNl1GxEI8GlYcBMxjy-D8Fqj0CzTNmf6uZk6BzIt2a7JP8YbL4OjPrCvtPxkeXXPjr5E8-upypgBqkqFnqAj7_4BueHRF-XV/s400/DSCN1728.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
142. and for missing the small "no swimming" logo on a nearby sign even though I searched for it before allowing <br />
<br />
143. the boys to play in "the river" fountain for many fun-filled minutes<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1jK4WdqzdtfCVhMNIWWixn4ThUBQQmhojuzPjbjrPm2aA47z_113rnP97jW8nixG3iB6ZlfVv3-ZoCMMKyjIQCub-FDQ2lGHmBZ28P7wVfTe56py1WGP2sQtSLGaLGONcGQmlnaDsD9D/s1600/DSCN1815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1jK4WdqzdtfCVhMNIWWixn4ThUBQQmhojuzPjbjrPm2aA47z_113rnP97jW8nixG3iB6ZlfVv3-ZoCMMKyjIQCub-FDQ2lGHmBZ28P7wVfTe56py1WGP2sQtSLGaLGONcGQmlnaDsD9D/s400/DSCN1815.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
144. feeling like a community trouble-maker when parents walked past refusing water access to their young'uns<br />
<br />
145. and for those boys' quick obedience to end the water play once I spotted the prohibition...sigh...the threat of litigation spoiling fun once again...<br />
<br />
146. for noisy, tiring, but happy family meals together<br />
<br />
147. where babies can get baths in the kitchen sink<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjdCn3txsT1O9YRYdkNhyA8NGOKRLjOHQtVf3_sDGvY_lULyrSOb59QxJqeHeWsbsNaCEzXV-SPL9tFpbgG7ajPT3rWe7mPO6Sg6ysK65IPAmfYdXjhfOhZCEWfJ_hH0hj_oAvE8DvX21/s1600/DSCN1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjdCn3txsT1O9YRYdkNhyA8NGOKRLjOHQtVf3_sDGvY_lULyrSOb59QxJqeHeWsbsNaCEzXV-SPL9tFpbgG7ajPT3rWe7mPO6Sg6ysK65IPAmfYdXjhfOhZCEWfJ_hH0hj_oAvE8DvX21/s400/DSCN1639.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
148. and attentive cousins can get a sink-side tutorial<br />
<br />
149. and hang together when the bath is done.<br />
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150. For generous friends to lay-out and form and family to help pour the footer for the new family house on the old family lot<br />
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151. for the blessing of grand-parenting<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>152. and afternoons of working together<br />
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153. while listening to the Rays CLINCH the American League East<br />
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My apologies to Ann Voskamp of "Holy Experience". I continue to experience difficulties getting her link button for Multitude Monday to copy and display properly. But clicking on the box below will take you to her blog, even though it appears empty.<br />
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<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" alt="holy experience" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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</center><o:p></o:p>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-84137592109010298062010-09-25T22:27:00.001-04:002010-09-25T22:30:08.329-04:00Experiencing God's Goodness Through People<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span>Seven years ago I was preparing to host an open house to celebrate Kyle and Michelle's wedding with all our Florida friends. Kyle had been serving with Word Made Flesh in Kolkata for a couple years, and had met and fallen in love with Michelle when she had volunteered there the previous summer. They'd been courting long distance most of the year and had gotten married in Wisconsin in July. We wanted to host an open house for our many friends in Florida to meet Michelle and visit with Kyle who had been away - at school and then India - for so long. Our house is plenty large enough for David and myself, but rather compact when considering having 100-150 people over. <br />
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My friends helped me plan the menu and spent hours helping me prepare a number of the dishes. One made several desserts and spent the hours during the open house plating hors d'oeuvres and cleaning up. One friend ran a food pick-up for me, and one friend with mad scrapbooking skills took an hour or two to lead me through making wedding photo posters - a process that would have taken me days by myself.<br />
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One friend even helped me clean out and organize my garage a couple weeks prior to the event (a mountainous task that had been overwhelming to me) to gain much needed storage and prep space for the party supplies and food. On the two nights of the open house, because my friends had been so good to me, sharing their time and expertise, I was able to fully relax and enjoy all our friends and Kyle and Michelle.<br />
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I experienced the same kind of goodness in getting set up for Sam and Amber's wedding rehearsal dinner. Family and friends helped us prepare food, set up tables, displays and games and made short work of the clean-up at the end of the evening.<br />
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Over the years I've learned to know myself, in part, by noticing how I differ from others...in the motivations that drive us, the ways we work and communicate, our skill sets and preferences for doing things together or by ourselves, etc. Though I've spent waaay too much time moaning about my dismal rate of productivity over the years, I've worked to exchange moaning about my weaknesses for a willingness to ask for help and gratitude for the people in my life with the skills, gifts and willingness to help me bring about the plan I've envisioned.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-83455055539276698952010-09-20T21:49:00.003-04:002010-09-21T16:44:53.479-04:00Counting Blessings<center></center><br />
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<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" alt="holy experience" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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101. While taking Prema to school in the mornings this fall, I've seen the pastor who served as Kyle and Sam's middle school pastor.<br />
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102. He's still at it - caring about kids at one of their most awkward stages, investing in their lives with prayer, fun activities, group Bible studies, and opportunities to serve.<br />
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103. One of Kyle's and Sam's high school teachers stopped by the lot where the new house will be going up when he saw David and Kyle working the other day. He too, invested himself in the students way beyond the requirementsof his paycheck...he cared...and it showed.<br />
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104. These two have made me think of many other men and women who served as teachers and pastors and coaches during our sons growing up years...who served, who cared, who invested in my children.<br />
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105. Amber's posts about people who encouraged/influenced her made me think about all the "everyday folks" who gave of themselves in the small church in which I grew up...<br />
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106. the older gentleman who cut out wood parts for our VBS projects<br />
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107. and his wife who taught us girls some hand sewing skills<br />
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108. who together offered their acreage for the annual sunday school picnic<br />
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109. and who served corn picked fresh from their garden and cooked in massive quantities<br />
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110. the pastor's wife who always seemed glad to see me no matter how much I was interrupting her day<br />
(she never let on, but now when I look back I shudder at how often I barged in to "parsonage"<br />
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111. and who cleaned the church sanctuary every week (did we pay her?)<br />
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<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>112. and could keep us kids interested in the flannel graph stories she wove<br />
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113. in a voice so quiet we listened intently to hear her<br />
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114. and the three pastors who served during my growing up years at that small neighborhood church<br />
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115. who knew me personally<br />
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116. and visited my family<br />
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117. sometimes just to connect<br />
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118. and sometimes to comfort<br />
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119. who never seeemed to mind my interruptions of their study time to ask them questions<br />
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120. who never made much money, but kept caring about people, investing in lives.<br />
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121. I'm grateful to live in a neighborhood where I know and like my neighbors<br />
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122. and their dogs<br />
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123. and a spirit of helpfulness and cooperation is the norm.<br />
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124. I'm grateful we got to see the incredible, full rainbow<br />
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125. seemingly springing out of the water by the boat ramp at thelake<br />
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126. during our casual family bike ride late Sunday that turned into<br />
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127. a rainy biking adventure<br />
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128. where the shower refreshed us with its drenching<br />
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129. and brought cooler temperatures this morning.<br />
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130. I'm grateful for my husband who shows his love for his family by acts of service<br />
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131. and provision<br />
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132. and for two sons who do the same.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-62776547191851078802010-09-13T15:49:00.002-04:002010-09-13T15:50:48.295-04:00Daily Gifts<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">This week I give God thanks:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">101. for honey bees</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">102. that have lived within our walls for more than a year </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-yt88Q6zfVUcLZbYysr5HZsE93OqydxU0qRGnMJZ8RE7__dCZO-g0_r6phyphenhyphenehCyqSCYC680z5NLQPNVpSjj5KBVQpOdwg3fJnaK3T20vxoeGI_3S7RtU88v7WBwCpRquB9O7evMtXQTR/s1600/DSCN0471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-yt88Q6zfVUcLZbYysr5HZsE93OqydxU0qRGnMJZ8RE7__dCZO-g0_r6phyphenhyphenehCyqSCYC680z5NLQPNVpSjj5KBVQpOdwg3fJnaK3T20vxoeGI_3S7RtU88v7WBwCpRquB9O7evMtXQTR/s400/DSCN0471.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">after they first came to visit "the homestead"</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB33-Ohm8Vk0WA2cDrRjbnJkfP8s06ZlvR4McXhjKPTt5CMuJ68Ts4X-YqTvqNFQT-Fw7-XzU2vPN5j-UyxbYYRK-hPByuR66rLHNzvxNQieflauTWJdStftQAW5PpMmtGd8P_tQtyM8g/s1600/FH000001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB33-Ohm8Vk0WA2cDrRjbnJkfP8s06ZlvR4McXhjKPTt5CMuJ68Ts4X-YqTvqNFQT-Fw7-XzU2vPN5j-UyxbYYRK-hPByuR66rLHNzvxNQieflauTWJdStftQAW5PpMmtGd8P_tQtyM8g/s400/FH000001.jpg" width="270" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">103. with their gentle nature </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">104. and their daily work</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">104. of harvesting and making (in addition to pollinating plants)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">105. honey....its distinct taste.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">106. for the hope and inclination to find a skilled beekeeper</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">107. willing to give instruction and move the hive to a better location in our back yard </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">108. for sitting on the curb with my 3 year old grandson</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfTa0vDHBvzqvPFTwr3P1hAIGQf2XRdBkuMp02lLcQXy9ZYAJYns0GLqYh1vS8wJ-7_WgfdMcfVsYYSpZ6HPPezp9pKfHmHIoYa-Crp-tj50tL2GbM-y5zkLmuoJ1z0xGjiWKqoHtwfpW/s1600/DSCN3840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfTa0vDHBvzqvPFTwr3P1hAIGQf2XRdBkuMp02lLcQXy9ZYAJYns0GLqYh1vS8wJ-7_WgfdMcfVsYYSpZ6HPPezp9pKfHmHIoYa-Crp-tj50tL2GbM-y5zkLmuoJ1z0xGjiWKqoHtwfpW/s400/DSCN3840.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">109. on a hot sun-drenched morning</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">110. after he finished explaining the A/C system of the John Deere tractor (riding toy) to me</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">111. listening together to the squirrels quarrel</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">112. and the birds sound</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">113. and seeing three honey bees fall to the ground</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">114. and two different butterflies dance for us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">115. for brushes and paint</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">116. for glorious color</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">117. for little boys who love stories and books</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">118. and moms and dads who wisely feed that hunger and stoke that fire</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">119. for the satisfaction of long-distance bike rides that our sons are doing together</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">120. and the physical and emotional benefits</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">121. for the privilege of getting to know our sons as adults</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">122. and watching our daughters in law "build" their lives, their homes, their families</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">123. for the gift of music</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">124. and David's pleasure in playing trombone</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">125. and in the "community" that takes place in band and orchestra rehearsals and performances</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">126. for "family/community dinner" nights at our house</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">127. the discipline and joy of planning and preparing house and meals</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">128. for the connection and conversation and deepening friendships</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">129. for C.S. Lewis </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">130. and his "Chronicles of Narnia"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">131. and David's enjoyment of the same </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">132. for Leanne Payne's knowledge and perspective of the writings of Lewis</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">133. and her sharing her marvelous intellect and insights with us through books and lectures</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">134. for delicious conversations with good friends</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">135. and paintings that make my heart sing </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-16090001926373553692010-09-10T16:26:00.002-04:002010-09-11T12:17:26.548-04:00Only One Savior<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I had already practiced the much-needed discipline of telling myself, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"I am not the junior holy spirit!"</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> regarding insights or changes I thought might benefit my husband, when I discovered Leanne Payne's wonderful intelligence and insight and her passionate knowledge and experience of Jesus. Either </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> or </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Restoring the Christian Soul through Healing Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> introduced me to Leanne's writings, and very quickly I devoured every book by Leanne that I could get my hands on. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">I have read most of her books at least twice</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> and have given away numerous copies to others. I currently have </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">The Broken Image</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Real Presence</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, and </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Healing Presence</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> on my bookshelf.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I came across Leanne's writings about 15-20 years ago when I had been getting my toes wet in the waters of intercessory prayer, bringing hurting people to God's throne, asking for His grace and mercy for them. Influencing others is one of my strong personality traits and since I had been barred from teaching at my church and I hadn't developed the necessary disciplines and skills to write and publish on a regular basis, I moved toward the next best thing for someone not allowed the use of manipulation tactics or holy spirit status - prayer on behalf of others. I felt like God had done so much renovation work in my own life and I was hungry to see Him use my prayers to help others.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">Leanne Payne's understanding of the psychological and spiritual processes at work in our lives, and her teachings about the presence of God in our lives - incarnational reality, the role of forgiveness in healing prayer, the writings of C. S. Lewis, the dangers of inviting gnosticism and Jungian symbolism into our thought lives and Christian communities has been a skillfully sharp sword in my life, and I could quote many passages that have helped me over the years. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I am choosing a passage from </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> that confronts and exposes a type of "prayer" that has been around for centuries: substitution. A quick scan may not yield its treasure, so I encourage you, if you spend any time at all helping, praying for or mentoring others, to read it again when you have the time and focus to read it fully and use the very specific prayers.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> <br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">"When we receive the gift of tears and strong crying out to God in intercession, we are not given special merit. Rather it is a gracious "work" of God's Spirit. We should be grateful and thank God for it. Trying to duplicate this grace </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span">is folly and gets in the way of intercession. Much of our best work of prayer will be done without sensible knowledge of this grace. When it comes, we simply give thanks for it.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">Having said this, there are bona fide ascetic practices that, when absent from our lives, pretty well guarantee that we will not do much interceding. We are powerless when fasting, solitude, silence, and the classic ways of training our bodies to be temples of the Holy Spirit - as we see in our Lord, those He taught, and the early church - are missing in our lives. Dallas Willard's book, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">The Spirit of the Disciplines,</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> should be read by all who are serious about true ascetics as applied to prayer and the Christian walk.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">Besides the matter of false ascetics with its misbegotten ideas about God or ourselves, two other practices that hinder us in prayer are widespread today. One involves the practice of </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">substitution</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. This occurs when we pray to take someone else's pain, illness, fear, or sorrow into or upon ourselves. In such a case, we do not intercede to God for them,but try to substitute for them. Rather than looking to Christ as the One who died to take their pain, sin, or darkness </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">into Himself</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">, we ask to take it upon and into ourselves. Rather than looking to the Savior, we attempt to be one. Instead of helping someone carry their burden of guilt, pain, sickness, or whatever to God in prayer, we ourselves fail to trust God. We attempt to carry the person's need in our own strength.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Substitution occurs, then, when we blur the distinction between being a savior-redeemer --something only Jesus could ever be and do -- and being His disciple, a sacramental channel through whom His life is to flow. To substitute is to attempt to do the work Christ has already finished, while simultaneously missing our own proper work.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> To take upon or into ourselves as mediators the darkness of others is at best based in ignorance, at worst based in pride. Either way, we fall into a messiah or savior complex and will have to confess pride to get out of it.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">One of the great dangers in substitution lies in the fact that spiritual forces we do not understand or fail to discern can be directly involved in sickness of spirit, soul, and body. In the case of demonic presences, these are quite amenable to "transferring" themselves from the sick person to the one who asks to "substitute." Such a person unwittingly opens his or her soul and body to darkness, saying to the enemy "Come in" while simultaneously sending messages to his or her own mind and body, "Disintegrate, I give you full permission."</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">This action, of course, is not rooted in looking to and trusting God -- that is, in true prayer. The well-publicized movie </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span">The Exorcist </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">did not feature an exorcism at all, but a substitution. A priest, failing to pray to God and exercise the authority of his office, instead took into himself the demonic force afflicting a child. The movie ends with the priest leaping from a window to his death. This illustrates most graphically the price to pay in substitutions. This price is not one connected with legitimate Christian suffering.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">An interesting sidelight here: in PCM conferences, we bring the gospel to bear on the healing of souls. Since we are psychomatic unities--body and soul--our bodies begin to heal as a natural course and sometimes even instantly. Near the end of each conference, we are often led to pray for physical healings, especially those connected to the emotional and spiritual healings received by the people. Invariably, however, when people have the opportunity to renounce their substitutions, we see dramatic and instantaneous physical healings--as well as mental and emotional. There have been miraculous healings of cancer, emphysema, and others from these renunciations. Healings, such as those connected to the practice of substitution, do not seem to occur apart from specific teaching and opportunities to pray for them. Our grief is that there is never enough time in these meetings to get all the teaching and healing prayer exercises in.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">If after reading the above, you know or even think that "maybe" there has been a substitution of this kind, now is the moment to name it, repent of it, and renounce it. You can look straight up to God and pray as follows:</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">"Lord, I asked to take on [so and so's] pain, disease, or darkness of [name the spiritual darkness, physical disease such as blindness, crippling condition, or mental and emotional depression or darkness of whatever kind]. I name my foolishness and pride before You right now. You alone are Savior-Redeemer. My faith in you was lacking, and I asked to do what You have already done--You carried our sicknesses, our sins, our sorrows. Forgive me, Lord, even as I renounce this substitution."</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">The substitution is then renounced, specifically:</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">"Lord, I have confessed as sin the pride and unbelief that was in this substitution. I now renounce it before You. [Renounce as specifically as possible the substitution you made, for instance, 'Lord, I asked to take on so and so's blindness, I renounce that substitution, confessing as sin the pride and unbelief that was in it.'] I look directly to You for [so and so's] health and wholeness, and thank you for removing from me, as far as the East is from the West, this malady I've suffered due to this wrongful practice.'</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">This prayer ends in praise and thanksgiving to God for His forgiveness, for His release from the substitution, and for all the healing that accrues from it."</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span">Leanne Payne, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, copyright 1994, pp 58-60, Hamewith Books, a divsion of Baker Book House Co., Grand Rapids, MI 49516</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span><br />
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<i><div style="display: inline !important;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/080105916X?ie=UTF8&tag=thethrrem05-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=080105916X">Listening Prayer: Learning to Hear God's Voice and Keep a Prayer Journal</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thethrrem05-20&l=as2&o=1&a=080105916X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></div></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span><br />
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<i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">Though I cannot remember wanting to take on another's physical or mental illness, I have definitely, on occasion, fallen into a "savior complex", which really only, in my experience, impedes or delays the true work of God. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I have been able to steer myself away from commitments and entanglements motivated by the "be the savior" temptation many times by reminding myself: </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">There is only one Savior, and I am NOT Him.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJTHtt4yIy3ZkjmsnLC5BueReZyNKioahKbGyuIoatItIMMY0vYGhEdC-A8hc7hIVPHTu8ohGX8WVcB6XUDt44gkOD4S8ybSv1UXOT_VHNaPrmJpyeIXKeNVoHuwmeXSNJOcTOYSSWGBK/s1600/DSCN0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJTHtt4yIy3ZkjmsnLC5BueReZyNKioahKbGyuIoatItIMMY0vYGhEdC-A8hc7hIVPHTu8ohGX8WVcB6XUDt44gkOD4S8ybSv1UXOT_VHNaPrmJpyeIXKeNVoHuwmeXSNJOcTOYSSWGBK/s200/DSCN0338.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
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</b></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-84635140637354503952010-09-06T13:22:00.006-04:002010-09-08T07:40:12.712-04:00Grateful<center></center><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><br />
<img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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I'm grateful:<br />
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71. for the discipline and public "accountability" of of multitude monday<br />
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72. for the "nuggets of joy" that seem to eventually come to the person looking for them<br />
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73. for my husband's faithfulness to love me, day in and day out, over 35 years<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlE_juRVoWwAmrzTklV8O0Vuxw_Ko7MG2RLj16jVzAtP-K3k1vAWcyYiQPzqlKWhvwNmMplc3ICt6EWYT3N2I1MPg42Ajqc7XdfB4kz9yg6kpm3oMDf_EGTKfZLcbmx15g6p1eiiCXGNKj/s1600/DSCN0703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlE_juRVoWwAmrzTklV8O0Vuxw_Ko7MG2RLj16jVzAtP-K3k1vAWcyYiQPzqlKWhvwNmMplc3ICt6EWYT3N2I1MPg42Ajqc7XdfB4kz9yg6kpm3oMDf_EGTKfZLcbmx15g6p1eiiCXGNKj/s400/DSCN0703.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>74. for gorgeous sunsets<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXTd2abE-1erYCgdrD6gW9ym-v5oeO8E4AWHF_WxvNYdyrTk5D2tRPCyFxENRQf1Jh4ufZq6yAPJ6KWrc0A1mbwUOVWyb16HnBd7K0rx1wb8PGlgZoaOOE38cXhFlZ6_ru3WQM3HbKif-/s1600/DSCN0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXTd2abE-1erYCgdrD6gW9ym-v5oeO8E4AWHF_WxvNYdyrTk5D2tRPCyFxENRQf1Jh4ufZq6yAPJ6KWrc0A1mbwUOVWyb16HnBd7K0rx1wb8PGlgZoaOOE38cXhFlZ6_ru3WQM3HbKif-/s400/DSCN0938.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>75. that happen over and over and over <br />
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76. for living in a place where I get to watch pelicans fish on a regular basis<br />
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77. for children who help waken their napping infant cousin with kisses<br />
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78. and parents who allow and encourage it<br />
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79. for grandchildren bursting in through the front door with hearty greetings and tales of the latest adventure<br />
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80. for David's flexibility in welcoming my mom on our trip to Alaska<br />
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81. and chauffeuring us all over the place<br />
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82. freeing me to drink in the scenery<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyBNBSo4Z71TOX71XAsped7NBD7GSsUrcpcmoJGUKoV6ql_3CUY8lNtMyglEW6RiLIfWPW3ZV0wIADQZXfU5Wxfz8KyYmCF_8i8PwW0zHWHb1-tyuQAiZwSbRFPvVN4MyuBcPuqdHME2G/s1600/DSCN0985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyBNBSo4Z71TOX71XAsped7NBD7GSsUrcpcmoJGUKoV6ql_3CUY8lNtMyglEW6RiLIfWPW3ZV0wIADQZXfU5Wxfz8KyYmCF_8i8PwW0zHWHb1-tyuQAiZwSbRFPvVN4MyuBcPuqdHME2G/s400/DSCN0985.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
83. for the joy of reading books for learning and pleasure<br />
<br />
84. for the musician at "our beach" playing a xylophone last night just before sunset<br />
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85. for Eli's interest and joy as he danced in the water to the jamaican beat<br />
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86. that I could see his mom in his dance<br />
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87. for the fiercely strong waves<br />
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88. so far out, yet still shallow enough for the little ones to make it all the way on foot<br />
<br />
89. and have so much fun trying to body surf and withstand the pummeling<br />
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90. for ground broken and work begun on preparing the land for the "construction shed" and future home for Kyle and Michelle's family<br />
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91. that the children will be able to watch and help throughout the process, building knowledge and good stewardship that comes from helping to build it<br />
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92. for my two daughters-in-law<br />
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93. who are very different in so many ways<br />
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94. but who each contribute so much to who our family is becoming<br />
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95. and also to their friends and communities<br />
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96. for the many varied ways I get to witness our sons loving their wives<br />
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97. and children<br />
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98. for all the young adults we've had live with us for a season...and all the new life and perspective they have brought to David and me: <br />
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99. Kyle and Michelle, Joanna, Sam and Amber, Amy<br />
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100. for abundant health and the ability to workSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-47299796456748425762010-09-04T11:30:00.000-04:002010-09-04T11:30:43.300-04:00Where in the World...? Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkrjHT8BkWfK3iIDffYOZ-ushz_1W-wBzWauPyqtuaNKVrnK8mBnAmQEvLrRYhhfRjfKAoE_SDShHgvQfJJAcuwBCf8ECe0gZLPtwDA5thIzYX7RaKlL1Fge2Oo2dkvE8U0PpyYDxEWcz/s1600/DSCN0880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkrjHT8BkWfK3iIDffYOZ-ushz_1W-wBzWauPyqtuaNKVrnK8mBnAmQEvLrRYhhfRjfKAoE_SDShHgvQfJJAcuwBCf8ECe0gZLPtwDA5thIzYX7RaKlL1Fge2Oo2dkvE8U0PpyYDxEWcz/s400/DSCN0880.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
While these posts designed for a game of observation and memory will be geared mostly for my immediate and local family, any others may join in guessing. I live in Pinellas County, Florida and travel between Largo and Tampa for most of my weeks, with occasional trips farther north to Brooksville and Floral City (mothers). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBa_NO4zRNd7H3dCjAI_hKNSCrxdGaHw8TB5RK20pvcPxbfbeHsiXwnpNsYJtouYu1OynyWJKLpHuRpoRRfYjOV1dLjW8J1jr86L0g47HC7LLHCUZDXMUYU2uWmJFNaehm9uwKPwAO9ui8/s1600/DSCN0933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBa_NO4zRNd7H3dCjAI_hKNSCrxdGaHw8TB5RK20pvcPxbfbeHsiXwnpNsYJtouYu1OynyWJKLpHuRpoRRfYjOV1dLjW8J1jr86L0g47HC7LLHCUZDXMUYU2uWmJFNaehm9uwKPwAO9ui8/s400/DSCN0933.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Most recent vacation trips have been to Alaska, Minneapolis, and Seattle, with older pics from Chicago and maybe even Boston and Baltimore if I get around to loading older photo cd's.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfM8GnIKTK7Ru_8peNUY5-09XPtvLYMnUAjTlgrItGJb2wd5v1qdwQLft0-R1O1lihCQfSG8f72W_JBHvdSdkSWU6UrsxbEs0aoNYXB7Hl_kRJGlT5MQXR8RVSqtTm6j8W1sqkl7nTS4d/s1600/DSCN0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfM8GnIKTK7Ru_8peNUY5-09XPtvLYMnUAjTlgrItGJb2wd5v1qdwQLft0-R1O1lihCQfSG8f72W_JBHvdSdkSWU6UrsxbEs0aoNYXB7Hl_kRJGlT5MQXR8RVSqtTm6j8W1sqkl7nTS4d/s400/DSCN0879.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
At times I will post pictures already featured on this or other blogs to which I contribute . I will try to post a variety of "easy" and "harder" pics, to encourage the kids in their observation and deduction skills. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYxAqjSzn3jVf-YbPrALa4EfPjgU-qY3001559DOIgLxN9XPz2xM9KGnoqpXzb0UsO0-xbYZjGyIfonmuu8zweojLHWfTI50cjuigzqQSmxoM3-0p4LYKwMs-tyrvPPCjkS6nBZh0zUJ4/s1600/DSCN0429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYxAqjSzn3jVf-YbPrALa4EfPjgU-qY3001559DOIgLxN9XPz2xM9KGnoqpXzb0UsO0-xbYZjGyIfonmuu8zweojLHWfTI50cjuigzqQSmxoM3-0p4LYKwMs-tyrvPPCjkS6nBZh0zUJ4/s400/DSCN0429.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Have fun, and be as specific as possible when you post your guesses, please.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-70820063208589378312010-09-03T12:32:00.001-04:002010-09-03T13:03:38.868-04:00God Will<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
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I don't remember now what the conflict was. But I do remember it was a seemingly unscalable, impassable mountain in my relationship with my husband. I'm guessing that conflict took place somewhere in the 15th-25th year of our marriage. It wasn't even close to being the first conflict of that level, intensity, and insurmountability. It certainly wouldn't be the last. Or the longest. Or the worst. But I was undone -- completely. <br />
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I saw no way out, around or through. My husband exited the room -- or the house --and I slid down the wall in a heap on the floor, weeping, flinging my broken heart and intractable husband at the feet of God, crying out for grace.<br />
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Quietly, from a still place deep within/beyond me, came words and music, and I began to sing: <br />
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<i>"God will make a way where there seems to be no way. </i><br />
<i>He works in ways we cannot see---He will make a way for me. </i><br />
<i>He will be my guide, Hold me closely to His side. </i><br />
<i>With love and strength for each new day </i><br />
<i>He will make a way, He will make a way." </i><br />
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I sang the lyrics once, twice, four times, then stood to my feet in that spot with a quieted heart. I knew that God had seen, heard, and answered. I would wait with a heart that trusted Him, to see what He would do.<br />
All the rest of that day, and throughout the several days that followed, I sang and hummed that song. No matter what other activity I was involved in, I could hear the words and melody:<br />
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<i>"God will make a way where there seems to be no way.</i><br />
<i>He works in ways we cannot see -- He will make a way for me.."</i><br />
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</i><br />
God did make a way where there seemed to be no way. As He had done many times before and would do many times again in my relationship with my husband.<br />
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Thank You, Don Moen and Integrity Music for giving me -- and multitudes of other people over the past three? decades -- so many songs that have taught us how to praise God through song, have ushered us into God's presence and embedded His truths in our heart.<br />
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So MANY songs have so greatly enriched my walk with God over the years...bringing hope, healing, thanksgiving, praise, intercession and joy -- more stories to tell later. I am so grateful for the ability to hear and to sing, so grateful for the wonderful gift of music.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-33623240258187476202010-09-02T11:58:00.004-04:002010-09-04T11:03:14.142-04:00Surrender My Demand For Life on My Terms?<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjE-9jaCCs1O9unNKb5aemYizCmeH6WHBg_el9h1nq9epmXQjBuMfCSGToSnTjXKkaFGKMWhyd4UqOthYLMBAY9e2sDIp2xQA7lYPu0G4dIDtpRbeQmrZZu7W3-1YRuZmrc9kCQI9E10xL/s1600/DSCN1384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjE-9jaCCs1O9unNKb5aemYizCmeH6WHBg_el9h1nq9epmXQjBuMfCSGToSnTjXKkaFGKMWhyd4UqOthYLMBAY9e2sDIp2xQA7lYPu0G4dIDtpRbeQmrZZu7W3-1YRuZmrc9kCQI9E10xL/s400/DSCN1384.JPG" width="400" /></a>I was a little glad when I got back to civilization/internet access, and saw that I had missed Amber's assignment of writing about surrender. After 45 years of relationship with the God of the universe I had many experiences which I had characterized as surrender, but the last five years held so much skepticism and unbelief on my part that I doubted my ability to remember and separate just one example from my tangled ball of experience. "Whew! I can excuse myself from that assignment", I thought. <br />
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But promises I'd made to myself and years of placing my heart's desires before God joined to become a quietly insistent voice that I discipline myself to add another, older perspective to the fresh accounts already told in and attached to <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/08/journey-of-faith-friday-surrender.html">Amber's blog</a>. I went to my bookshelves to pull Catherine Marshall'sbooks and find where she had written about relinquishment in a way that had imprinted inself into both my daily experience and long term memory. <br />
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You young women have likely heard of Catherine Marshall only, if at all, as the author of <u>Christy</u>, a winsome story of a young teacher's first years living and teaching in a southern Appalachian mountain community which was made into a movie decades ago. Those of you who are enjoying "Redeeming Love" will probably enjoy <u>Christy</u>. Catherine Marshall has written numerous easy to read non-fiction books, which I heartily recommend to you, detailing her "own search for a meaningful life, a practical faith, and a closer relationship with God." I have on my shelves: <u>To Live Again</u>, <u>Beyond Ourselves</u>, <u>Something More</u>, <u>Meeting God at Every Turn</u>, <u>The Helper</u>, and <u>Mr. Jones Meet the Master</u> (this last book was Catherine's first, a written compilation of some of her first husband's sermons, published after his death.)<br />
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In <u>Beyond Ourselves</u>, Catherine writes about the Prayer of Relinquishment:<br />
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<i>"I got my first glimpse of it in the fall of 1943. The illness that I have mentioned before... had kept me in bed for many months. A bevy of specialists seemed unable to help. Persistent prayer, using all the faith I could muster, had resulted in -- nothing.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>One afternoon a pamphlet was put in my hand. It was the story of a missionary who had been an invalid for eight years. Constantly she had prayed that God would make her well, so that she might do His work. Finally, worn out with futile petition, she prayed, 'All right. I give up. If you want me to be an invalid for the rest of my days, that's Your business. Anyway, I've discovered that I want You even more than I want health. You decide.' The pamphlet said that within two weeks the woman was out of bed, completely well.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>This made no sense to me. It seemed too pat. Yet I could not forget the story.....I came to the same point of abject acceptance. 'I'm tired of asking' was the burden of my prayer. 'I'm beaten, finished. God You decide what you want for me the rest of my life...' Tears flowed. I had no faith as I understood faith. I expected nothing. The gift of my sick self was made with no trace of graciousness.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>The result was as if windows had opened in heaven; as if some dynamo of heavenly power had begun flowing, flowing into me. From that moment my recovery began.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>Through this incident and others...God was trying to teach me something important about prayer.... I got only part of the message. I saw that the demanding spirit - 'God, I must have thus and so; God this is what I want you to do for me' - is not real prayer and hence receives no answer. I understood that the reason for this is that God absolutely refuses to violate our free will and ...unless self-will is voluntarily given up, even God cannot move to answer prayer."</i><br />
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</i><br />
Catherine Marshall relates two more accounts of a prayer of relinquishment from the lives of others, then writes:<br />
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<i>"Larry's story and Una's have several points in common. In each case, the mother wanted the same thing desperately -- life and health for her child. Each mother commanded God to answer her prayer. While the demanding spirit had the upper hand, God seemed remote, uapproachable</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>Then, through a combination of the obvious futility of the demanding prayer plus weariness of body and spirit, the mother surrendered to the possibility of what she feared most. At that instant there came a turning point. Suddenly and inexplicably fear left and the feeling of lightness ad joy that had nothing to do with outer circumstances. This marked the turning point. From that moment the prayer began to be answered. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>...We know that fear blocks prayer. Fear is a barrier erected between us and God, so that His power cannot get through to us. So -- how does one get rid of fear?</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>This is not easy when the life of someone dear hangs in the balance, or when what we want most in all the world seems to be slipping away. At such times, every emotion, every passion, is tied up in the dread that what we fear most is about to come upon us. Obviously only strong measures can deal with such a powerful fear. My experience has been that trying to overcome it by turning one's thoughts to the positive or by repeating affirmations is not potent enough.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>...Jesus is saying: 'Admit the possibility of what you fear most. And lo, as you stop fleeing, as you force yourself to walk up to the fear, as you look it full in the face, never forgetting that God and His power are still the supreme reality, the fear evaporates.' Drastic? Yes. But effective.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>One point about the Prayer of Relinquishment puzzled me for many years. There seemed to be a contradiction between the Prayer of Faith and that of relinquishment. If relinquishment is real, the one praying must be willing to receive or not receive his heart's desire. But that state of mind scarcely seems to exhibit the faith that knows that one's request will be granted...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Now I believe I have the explanation...Once I thought that faith was believing this or that specific thing in my mind with never a doubt. Now I know that faith is nothing more or less than actively trusting God...."</i><br />
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</i><br />
Actively trusting God - and being willing to have my understanding of who He is corrected in the process - is still a curriculum that challenges me greatly even after 45 years. I have, at various times, surrendered my children, my husband, my life, my marriage, my possessions, my lifestyle, my time and our future to the GOD whom I had found to be GOODNESS and LOVE through and through. I have practiced on a regular basis the voluntary surrender of my rights modeled by Jesus and described in Philippians 2. But I have also strongly resisted surrendering MY DEMAND FOR LIFE ON MY TERMS many times - and the older I am the more I recognize the undercover resistance movement in my actions and choices of the past. <br />
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</i>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-10947989509454216752010-08-28T20:02:00.001-04:002010-08-28T20:06:07.348-04:00Unpacked, Falling Asleep, and Grateful<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUKTQdvj3d2weQsaOxc5jjXjDYp3_O96x0jlbqBjM_P6yT_HEviuEQm4vomiKtA5EKkFqdGJD7qWuWjpyqIicP697qUkw1KnrJkSzNopaLrfe0SGEjsJalrRChdDodkQVDYutBQi1EM78/s1600/DSCN0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUKTQdvj3d2weQsaOxc5jjXjDYp3_O96x0jlbqBjM_P6yT_HEviuEQm4vomiKtA5EKkFqdGJD7qWuWjpyqIicP697qUkw1KnrJkSzNopaLrfe0SGEjsJalrRChdDodkQVDYutBQi1EM78/s400/DSCN0938.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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David, Mom and I took a red eye flight from Anchorage to Houston to Tampa last night after spending 10 days exploring Alaska, enjoying the scenery and wildlife and COOLNESS and many great meals. As ususal, I took bunches of photos - until I inadvertently smashed our camera against a table and bent the lens. This sunset view is from our lodge, north of Talkeetna.<br />
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We took a flight seeing Mt. McKinley tour with Sheldon Air Service and landed on Eldridge or Etheridge glacier for a few minutes of taking it all in. A real treat.<br />
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Mom and I stopped to examine so many different kinds of lichen and mushrooms whenever we were out walking. I have no idea what this type is or even if it IS lichen or mushroom...these were like flexible rubber cups.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFMisC2Pqm34ai3Fh0i9-WdzrY5wLRI169IxZnmS9Zsb_rZN3C0UpIWYCCGVMUHbXHdnVL8H_rcerMF1KMLhiCbcWpZIYfEpC427JWNCFjBP05sXTVn0PeXGfHEroad6Oo20I8_PDFi7R/s1600/DSCN1351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFMisC2Pqm34ai3Fh0i9-WdzrY5wLRI169IxZnmS9Zsb_rZN3C0UpIWYCCGVMUHbXHdnVL8H_rcerMF1KMLhiCbcWpZIYfEpC427JWNCFjBP05sXTVn0PeXGfHEroad6Oo20I8_PDFi7R/s400/DSCN1351.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
These guys/gals were really enjoying their lazy afternoon of sunning in Resurrection Bay/Kenai Fjords.<br />
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I'll try to post some more photos on the Temple site later. No sleep last night...must turn in soon.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-43932945968628479662010-08-09T08:21:00.024-04:002010-08-10T07:43:41.584-04:00Multitude Monday: Tasting Joy<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The overcast morning with periodic sprinkles, spits, and spasms of rain made me reconsider a solitary bike ride to the beach. While the gray sky and light rain part are perfect for the soul that is drying around the edges and feeling the need for outdoor solitude, the spasms of rain are not only uncomfortable but also downright dangerous to a cyclist on a road where drivers are already often more engrossed with the scenery than the bike lane occupant on their right. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So instead, after a brief survey of the back yard I grabbed garden gloves and branch cutters, climbed the ladder and tackled the overgrown bougainvillea. A few minutes of battling physical thorns should provide the space my mind needed to unkink and stretch....and savor gratitude moments, tasting the joy once again :</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">36. for the empty, lid-less plastic jar near the front door. signalling much recent bug and lizard catching activity</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">37. for the 3 year old suddenly dashing out the front door and who, when questioned, announces "I'm going to let the lizard go so he won't die"....</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLX_1UloqCdXCfHG45EriLHD6kx0QuzwfxGL4v0GvUPaBWryFkhX0pAak4p06GhG9_xSiCXi-MY9LkJF_ACYsfWvkab2d8LXRd_6szIPzN4eodztllYd9FLalpEM-rbFdkieauEOArz16/s1600/DSCN0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLX_1UloqCdXCfHG45EriLHD6kx0QuzwfxGL4v0GvUPaBWryFkhX0pAak4p06GhG9_xSiCXi-MY9LkJF_ACYsfWvkab2d8LXRd_6szIPzN4eodztllYd9FLalpEM-rbFdkieauEOArz16/s400/DSCN0776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">38. for the sunset so wide both in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">color range and height that I had difficulty keeping my eyes facing forward, eastward on the road in front of me, instead of staring in my rear view mirror</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">39. for the gift of a morning walk in the park accompanied by sunlight AND a gentle rain</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">40. for the 5 year old boy so entranced by the stories and people of The Chronicles of Narnia that he peppers his conversation with character exploits and Narnia trivia questions</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-uleOPzqdRoEkgofttrGd59opBeCNGiUd9j0t8o2PmfTYXu4vey95Sh6kAj8lDY8r-MXQkJsO-j5mMYtxr8XEH9iDh_nxjCPtuB3ymFLXOdBFSDu8zI0LARXwhnjWN_e5V-dw-R8ZVoV/s1600/DSCN0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-uleOPzqdRoEkgofttrGd59opBeCNGiUd9j0t8o2PmfTYXu4vey95Sh6kAj8lDY8r-MXQkJsO-j5mMYtxr8XEH9iDh_nxjCPtuB3ymFLXOdBFSDu8zI0LARXwhnjWN_e5V-dw-R8ZVoV/s400/DSCN0849.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4426004275791108566&postID=4393294596862847966" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">41. for the severely raw throat I garnered as consequence of screaming in rage at my husband of 35 years (I am all for mining the gold of natural consequences - in my life or others)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">42. for a reliable, safe, "kiwi green" car to drive </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">43. with effective A/C </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">44. and a bike rack on top</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">45. and flexible seating and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">storage </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">46. and plastic, not carpeted floors, </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">47. for vacuuming out </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">sand from the beach that stuck to small feet</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">47. after a morning of play at beach and park</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">48. for the playground merry-go-round - an "old-time" treasure </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">49. amidst challenging play structures</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">50. and climbing rocks</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">51. on a playground shaded by moss-covered oaks</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">52. peopled by active day-campers playing capture the flag</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">53. and kind middle school girls who don't retreat from the "social strange-ness" of P,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">54. who invite her to conversation and a moment of inclusion.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">55. for sauteed spinach </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">56. and portobello mushrooms</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">57. and onions and ham</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">58. folded into egg and white omelet </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">59. with swiss and fat-free feta cheese</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">60. for a "savor every bite" sunday morning breakfast</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">61. for 4 month old boy who now snuggles up close, wrapping his arms so his hands grip the sides of my chest </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">62. and who stays quietly content wrapped just so, while I sway on the couch or sit on the chair</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">63. his eyes open, peacefully gazing at mother and father</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">64. or eyelids drooping, heavy with sleep</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">65. the coos, chortles, and quiet "conversation" of this same boy with his mother and father</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAgF2G36BLaVCxhCg1SIukhQB8pW8iySAHYbLejN2AkaK5dYG-oWOl-bqCvkL3tlIYCrmr8K5nSO1Fz0nf6sci7QFlqKSUGidHa5mcvmYHYoBRacc3Oh48ftQYmGXcVLSLsCR3irfXE9M/s1600/DSCN0808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAgF2G36BLaVCxhCg1SIukhQB8pW8iySAHYbLejN2AkaK5dYG-oWOl-bqCvkL3tlIYCrmr8K5nSO1Fz0nf6sci7QFlqKSUGidHa5mcvmYHYoBRacc3Oh48ftQYmGXcVLSLsCR3irfXE9M/s640/DSCN0808.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">66. his mimicry of their speech so obvious, so intent</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">67. for this repeated miracle lesson about the development of speech</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">68. and how we are all formed and shaped by our relationships, within family</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">69. for the wonderfully consistent love and provision and nurture my parents gave me</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">70. and its doorway to healthy personality and trust in a God who Loves</span><br />
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</span></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-75191394587856941642010-08-04T14:28:00.000-04:002010-08-04T14:28:21.635-04:00Where in the World...? One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oXED6lxJUnSST0Z9MxO7CEEKHhdrIeluyVzJOJtsTXLa6DH8gol3U3cX4CmdcyJHciuU0SWI8NlHLsCTjNodZqduXl_t4vZ57t7-SmSc2NIKCsdu_1vcAUGMwrldxsiTROVzljmzsjnL/s1600/DSCN0864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oXED6lxJUnSST0Z9MxO7CEEKHhdrIeluyVzJOJtsTXLa6DH8gol3U3cX4CmdcyJHciuU0SWI8NlHLsCTjNodZqduXl_t4vZ57t7-SmSc2NIKCsdu_1vcAUGMwrldxsiTROVzljmzsjnL/s640/DSCN0864.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hide and seek is a popular game with our grandchildren. Reading - or more accurately "studying" Richard Scarry books (or other books illustrated with a great deal of detail that enhance learning about our world) is a past-time loved as much by Isaac and Eli as it was by their dad. Instead of simply reading the story, the adult reader finds tiny details in the story for the child to search for - like "where's the pickle on this page?" or "who can find someone who is spilling something?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I thought it might be fun to play another blog game called "Where in the world is Sandy's camera?" I will post several pictures without telling you where they were taken. You post a comment with your guess. If a few guesses come in but they are incorrect, I will give a hint or hints as needed. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1v9oyG5EDdz4TwEFy6OJ07_qHpV2dymW_P86i5MJfRJkONyqwcThhKyPQKiOQ2qYshWy9hRuzt3AM_Mfzmd3VHI4uRPWSlLVlH7yGKERqgZKaOAnVliH0FrliJ5KZgbpMSgE4__ihnQbz/s1600/DSCN0690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1v9oyG5EDdz4TwEFy6OJ07_qHpV2dymW_P86i5MJfRJkONyqwcThhKyPQKiOQ2qYshWy9hRuzt3AM_Mfzmd3VHI4uRPWSlLVlH7yGKERqgZKaOAnVliH0FrliJ5KZgbpMSgE4__ihnQbz/s640/DSCN0690.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyone may guess, but I will require more detailed answers from those who live in the area where the photos are taken. If we have fun with the game, perhaps I'll try posting the gps coordinates with the answers so you can find the exact spot on google earth or attach a linky tool for blog readers to post their own photos for us to identify.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EBeoVQi7K76toDghpVUOTYS6Oa_gB8vMVSgOlLOTmM3FJJwmmcMi3-COf8sNu1gbrW_SbsFzP1ZRoUfRRNZMX_hQc3xv3bCxLVfwtT-fXUgXm9biuBdjTxyjDP7TC_ArcH3nC7HuMZ8D/s1600/DSCN0437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EBeoVQi7K76toDghpVUOTYS6Oa_gB8vMVSgOlLOTmM3FJJwmmcMi3-COf8sNu1gbrW_SbsFzP1ZRoUfRRNZMX_hQc3xv3bCxLVfwtT-fXUgXm9biuBdjTxyjDP7TC_ArcH3nC7HuMZ8D/s640/DSCN0437.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will try to post a variety of photo challenges, with some from other locales and some that have already been identified in this or other blogs. Ok, here are your first three to guess - #s 1-1, 1-2, 1-3. Questions are allowed. Have fun!</span><br />
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</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-67569138535149920832010-08-02T11:59:00.007-04:002010-08-08T16:23:34.187-04:00Seasons of Service<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Elisabeth Elliott's book, "These Strange Ashes", about her first year of missionary service, has stayed with me for many years after I read it. Elisabeth spent her first term of service living with "an unreached tribe" attempting to codify their spoken language into a written language for purposes of fostering literacy and translation of the Bible into their tongue. After more than a year of working diligently on the project ALL her language work was irretrievably lost.</span></span></span></span><br />
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</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was already familiar with the story Elliott told in her most well-known book, "Through Gates of Splendor" about the murder of her husband, Jim Elliott, and several other men, as they attempted to befriend a remote tribe of people, and her subsequent story of remaining for many years, with her children, to continue to get to know that tribe of people and introduce them to Jesus Christ. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is not difficult to call the loss of the young husbands and fathers a sacrificial service that resulted in great blessing when one looks through the window provided by the results of her subsequent years of friendship with and service to the tribe. But "These Strange Ashes" is Elisabeth's reflection on the meaning and purpose of the loss of her entire year of literacy work. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't remember whether a storm or fire or something else destroyed her work, but I do remember that her story and her reflection left me feeling unsettled and dissatisfied. I wanted life to be explainable if not predictable, and to be able to clearly see and name God's movement and purposes in our lives.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the past few years I've spent an inordinate amount of time reflecting on the people, motivations, and results of my four decades of service to God and "the bride of Christ", the church, looking for possible purpose and meaning. I have been sifting fragile ashes from one hand to the other, examining what remains. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I began this blog in the middle of that reflective season, and the blog title, "These Three Remain" hints both of my struggle to make meaning of the unknowable and my hope, however faint at that time, that faith, hope, and love are truly cornerstones of life that remain when all else fades away.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So </span><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/07/journey-of-faith-friday-ministry.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Amber's invitation</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> to reflect on and write about a season of service or influencing people and blessing or benefit that may have come to us through or as a result of that service has really challenged me as I've sifted the ashes of my service through my fingers. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Personality assessments" I've taken over the years have made me realize that "influencing others" has been a primary motivation most of my life - it's a very strong thread in my personality, and it shows itself in my history of church service activities which focused far more on teaching and mentoring than on preparing meals, cleaning homes, or mowing lawns. I did all those things and more as both a "stay-at-home" and working wife and mother, but I didn't routinely help people outside my family in those ways. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I grew up in small church, so I was put to work at a young age: helping with a weekly children's program, and annual summer vacation bible school, teaching a 3rd grade Sunday School class, singing in the choir, leading youth group activities, counseling at summer church camps, teaching sunday school to a wonderful group of middle schoolers while in college, and participating in community evangelistic campaigns.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Later, immersed in a much larger home church, I found myself discipling women on an informal individual and group basis as I continued in the church-structured activities of teaching sunday school (7th grade girls, then later 4 year old children ), teaching the Bible in vacation bible school each summer and writing and leading interdenominational women's bible studies in the community. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took an active role in a local women's retreat ministry for about a decade, and though I found myself locked out of the teaching structure of the church (another story for another time) I gave myself to serving in the children's wednesday night program, singing in the choir, chaperoning field and camping trips, counseling at youth camp, and praying on a very regular basis for my church's leaders, people, and programs.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I was locked out of the teaching leadership structure after 20 years of teaching, I turned to intercessory prayer (praying for and on behalf of others) as an alternate avenue of "using my life to influence others for God and Truth". </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At first I prayed mostly for my church, on my knees in the tiny prayer room or face down in the sanctuary on weekdays, and tucked away in a less traveled hallway on Sunday mornings. After awhile, I began meeting regularly with others for the purpose of prayer; sometimes to support interdenominational organizations and efforts in the community, other times to encourage individuals in their prayer life. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took to "prayer- walking" not only on my mega church and christian school campus but also in neighborhoods and on busy city streets in my community, often bringing partners along to walk and pray with me for God's blessing for the people, neighborhoods, churches and cities through which we walked. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For several years when I did not have to work outside the home, I prayed with someone, morning and afternoon, five days a week. I heartily believed God would intervene in the affairs of men and influence lives as a result of our prayers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trying to complete the many "faith assignments" I felt God had for me was usually intuitively and intellectually fulfilling but it was also very challenging emotionally. At times I risked damage to my reputation or rejection and loss of treasured relationships in order to pursue "the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord" (Phil 3:8). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For as long as I can remember I have had a major pride problem. During the years of intense prayer and mentoring activities, I battled pride on a daily basis, asking God to root it out in me, expose it and help me to confess it to others and turn from it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So it may be no coincidence that looking back these past few years at the "results" of my decades of service has seemed more an act of "sifting through ashes" than rejoicing over visible results. For quite a few months I felt like my decades of service to "the church" had been a colossal mis-use of my time and resources. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During this season of my life of withdrawal from "church" activities, I have focused on giving simple life-sustaining gifts to my family: preparing many nourishing meals, caring for children, painting and planting, and offering stressed and weary parents moments of respite and a welcoming home where each person is accepted, respected and loved. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've returned with new emphasis to this service that is so very physical and largely restricted to my family mostly because we simply needed it to survive and overcome the challenges we faced, and also because it provided a "quiet" backdrop of work for me to address the unanswered questions, heartache and angst about God and the church which occupied such a large portion of my heart and mind. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I have taken up this towel, I've experienced an unexpected new joy and satisfaction in planning and preparing appealing, wholesome meals as well as surprise that a meal that takes 5 hours or more to prepare will often be dished out and consumed by 8-12 people in less than 15 minutes. I've experienced a body weariness that clamors for rest long before the day is done, and fed my appetite for learning as I've devoured books and lectures about nutrition, fitness, the brain, and personality development.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In order to serve my family in this way, I've exchanged personal activities and goals I'd looked forward to accomplishing during this "empty nest" season for more cooking and cleaning and childcare.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I've also tasted recurring delight as I experience anew the wondrous world with and through my grandchildren; reading marvelous books, cooking, baking, working and laughing together; exploring the great outdoors and its many inhabitants in yard, park, and beach; getting messy with mud and paint and glue, playing every ball game imaginable, struggling to communicate with my "special needs" granddaughter, and answering 387 questions a day.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize that I've been breaking the commonly taught rules for spiritual health by refusing involvement in the "messy Christianity" within the organized church during these recent years. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize with a clarity I lacked in my younger years just how far I am from loving others as God loves. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But after 35 years of intensive service to the organized church, investing my energy, gifts and love in that community (and the world through my intercessory prayer and our financial giving), I am content with this towel and this bowl for now. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I do not shy from truthful answers or cringe in guilt when I face the questions and responses from extended family and friends about my lack of involement in the organized church. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For this season, my "family church" has provided more than enough opportunity to practice forgiveness and model imperfection, more than enough pain to stretch my heart, more than enough heartache to keep me on my knees crying out for mercy and grace, and more than enough joy and blessing to keep me lifting my voice in praise to the God who is Love.</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4426004275791108566.post-21069476757285115662010-07-26T13:25:00.001-04:002010-07-26T13:30:15.116-04:00A Lifetime of Giving Thanks<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One of the joys (and there are many) of my life in this season as a mother-in-law, has been watching each of my daughters-in-love cultivate the discipline of intentional gratitude in their lives and the lives of their children. I see it in lists on their walls and blogs, in creative yet simple thank you notes with the children, and hear it from their lips. <a href="http://sandystrugglestospeak.blogspot.com/2008/01/looking-for-joy-in-all-right-places.html">It gives me joy because thanksgiving has made such a huge difference in my life. </a></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Looking back over these past almost 35 years of living, loving, and learning with my husband and family, I think intentional thanksgiving would make my top 3 list of "it-has-changed-my-life-time-and-time-again" disciplines. Deliberately expressing gratitutde for the big and small gifts and challenges in my life has gotten me out of a funk, out of a negative, complaining or self-centered attitude more times than I can rememember. <a href="http://sandystrugglestospeak.blogspot.com/2007/08/thanksgiving.html">Thanksgiving has broken through at times when all other mental gymnastics proved powerless.</a> Thanksgiving: It does a body good.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I realized when <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-many-multitude-mondays-to.html">Amber began posting her deliberate thanksgiving on her blog a few weeks ago</a>, that it was probably time for me to move back into the discipline of frequent, deliberate thanksgiving instead of waiting for it to overtake me with joy. So I am beginning today to keep my word to join the Multitude Monday community. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am so grateful:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1. for life...multitudes of people do not make it to 55. I am thankful for abundant health.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweEdacs0_KQKlzxeAERf6K-QgOmJ2zeIt2Uhc_ZbWm8zYgDCt2FnDdM6F85iNzVKHIpfmajAVY03HeytoWiXlqW2eJFa8cN-2AaIu3S9KIQMYaRBN9pQU85DmDOHGukgt-FtSmunqab63/s1600/DSCN0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweEdacs0_KQKlzxeAERf6K-QgOmJ2zeIt2Uhc_ZbWm8zYgDCt2FnDdM6F85iNzVKHIpfmajAVY03HeytoWiXlqW2eJFa8cN-2AaIu3S9KIQMYaRBN9pQU85DmDOHGukgt-FtSmunqab63/s320/DSCN0076.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2. for my husband...he has continued to love me through all the seasons of our 35 years of marriage</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3. for my two grown sons...they are wonderful men and husbands and fathers...and it is such fun to getting to know them in this season as "friend" in addition to "son"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4. for my two beautiful, intelligent, and loving daughters-in-law....it is such a delight getting to know them, and they are both teaching me things and expanding my view of the world through their unique views, gifts, and skills</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5. for my four grandchildren....for the health they (and we) have, for the joy and learning they bring to our lives</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am so grateful:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">6. to have been born in this great country, with all its freedoms and promise and people</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">7. to have been born to incredibly loving and nurturing parents</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">8. that my parents moved to Florida in my childhood, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">9. and for all the opportunity of a new life that came our way with their move</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">10. for the church family that welcomed and nurtured me and my family all the rest of my childhood and youth, for the strong foundation of belief and trust that was laid</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I give thanks:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">11. for the safety I had growing up...I never feared that my parents would hurt me or neglect to feed me</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">12. for living in a place of abundant sunshine </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcZ2-BHSU3XY8J9icUVim3QzhSepcQX6RqmTRt0aEn8yvDqKC-ZmB89aeJIZ8i0NDdyso3W5XTSEPW6PW-1Y6a0q-piKs4o676q3PbHe7Bzd5nqfocr5OcihntcfJjCrQJrmxXc9zJyRj2/s1600/DSCN0210.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/AVvXsEjcZ2-BHSU3XY8J9icUVim3QzhSepcQX6RqmTRt0aEn8yvDqKC-ZmB89aeJIZ8i0NDdyso3W5XTSEPW6PW-1Y6a0q-piKs4o676q3PbHe7Bzd5nqfocr5OcihntcfJjCrQJrmxXc9zJyRj2/s320/DSCN0210.JPG" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">13. and green growing things</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">14. and tropical plants wearing such glorious foliage of outrageous colors </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">15. that I live so close to the beach I can be there in 20 minutes by bike</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjbh0AfzTBDJHk3tOcbkoUKvRgNsmolTrlMfsDfNbW3g-1D6oW_0tTbHPSVE_dcJMXHunQCFy2m6USNLPheCl6JVNMJuDE7t7tvG-TQLeiuXzC_bgrOqQ-rBwCIObzm8YzfAfUx3Iqa7O/s1600/DSC00062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjbh0AfzTBDJHk3tOcbkoUKvRgNsmolTrlMfsDfNbW3g-1D6oW_0tTbHPSVE_dcJMXHunQCFy2m6USNLPheCl6JVNMJuDE7t7tvG-TQLeiuXzC_bgrOqQ-rBwCIObzm8YzfAfUx3Iqa7O/s400/DSC00062.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am grateful:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">16. for my bicycles</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">17. for the Pinellas trail</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">18. for bike lanes on the beach</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">19. for padded biking shorts for those long rides</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">20. for moisture-wicking exercise wear that I come close to wearing 16 hours a day during this menopausal season of life</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am thankful:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">21. for the legacy of a gentle heart and contented spirit from my father...somehow he managed to sidestep the alcoholism that had cornered his father and replace it with gentle patience</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">22. my mother, also, modeled contentment, gentleness and patience with us </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">22. for the gift of opening our eyes to appreciate beauty from my parents by continually taking us to parks, walking trails with us, pointing out things of wonder in nature</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">23. that I live now within a half mile from a wonderful park</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">24. for the amazing abundance and variety of birds in my area...one of these days I will do a post of just bird pictures</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyUeEKNC9jqUPcAxqpkCJ7uDrBX4vxUkShE4vZHrHtdQ8tySDydI7Xcc0d2j5tetaMgRsk4OyuwoIza8-K2BgY5Ei-7XH2Wk0vLk69zZoduj9UAU6NblSwtCCbGYkBOnCd9T6qrrgfPB1/s1600/DSCN0835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyUeEKNC9jqUPcAxqpkCJ7uDrBX4vxUkShE4vZHrHtdQ8tySDydI7Xcc0d2j5tetaMgRsk4OyuwoIza8-K2BgY5Ei-7XH2Wk0vLk69zZoduj9UAU6NblSwtCCbGYkBOnCd9T6qrrgfPB1/s400/DSCN0835.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">25. for the tadpoles that grew to froghood in my front porch fountain this past month</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0YTUWPHnbsWspY4E-sgUrloPMu7lNu1A5K0fdN5dH4CjzixlO7YKJpMqWXl_Feeu_Ad9N7ao4TOdlY0LW8XVm2uBDlRvbGwPKHXgTnkbNeSbNOrZxlQPATEyX7VI6fpfPFHmoGleUO14/s1600/DSCN0719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz0YTUWPHnbsWspY4E-sgUrloPMu7lNu1A5K0fdN5dH4CjzixlO7YKJpMqWXl_Feeu_Ad9N7ao4TOdlY0LW8XVm2uBDlRvbGwPKHXgTnkbNeSbNOrZxlQPATEyX7VI6fpfPFHmoGleUO14/s400/DSCN0719.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am so grateful:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">26. that I can read...my life has been immeasurably enriched</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">27. that I have had the chance to read so many amazing books</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">28. that biographies and memoirs have opened my eyes to see the world from others' eyes</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">29. for computers and </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">30. four-in-one printers and</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">31. digital cameras and</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">32. amazing software and</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">33. cell phones (even though my husband insists he can never reach me when he needs me)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">34. the world-wide web with all the innovation and staying in touch and sharing of knowledge it has spawned</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">35. for the blogosphere...so much to learn, so many people to enjoy</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1