tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22757979632396632332024-03-04T23:43:07.719-08:00He is jealous for me...iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-69978949524441090642011-05-26T12:08:00.000-07:002011-05-26T12:08:34.192-07:00The Son Shines ThroughThis spring has been full of storms. I'm so thankful that the sun always seems to shine through in the end. I'm thankful for the many that have reached out a hand to help those around them, and those far away. I'm thankful for hearts who dare to listen to God's gentle whisper. After all, we are His hands and His feet. We were called to serve Him.<br />
<br />
Prayers continuing from Alabama, to Joplin, MO, to my neighbors two doors down.<br />
Thank you God, for your love is new with every morning. Thank you for always making the Son shine through in the end.<br />
<br />
<embed allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#EDE7DB" height="309" menu="false" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" quality="high" src="http://sketch.odopod.com/flash/OdoSketch.swf?sketchURL=/sketches/373954.xml&userURL=/users/80317&bgURL=/images/bigbg.jpg&mode=embed" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="470"></embed>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-24547123468330205072011-02-03T14:06:00.000-08:002011-02-03T14:06:26.988-08:00#FAIL!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb3E2x6iZxEVOiB8vYAulIJSnwq8Mc6NZH_exXNWCl32435YwYhk27rBsBXP8IgBVdqZDvkwbb-wIUcqavvG2_qNieX15eVF4NP8I1OLTjjwLYCIkXpjnGEmgfOeqGN0kSS0pUZKb9g/s1600/FAIL%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb3E2x6iZxEVOiB8vYAulIJSnwq8Mc6NZH_exXNWCl32435YwYhk27rBsBXP8IgBVdqZDvkwbb-wIUcqavvG2_qNieX15eVF4NP8I1OLTjjwLYCIkXpjnGEmgfOeqGN0kSS0pUZKb9g/s320/FAIL%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had a small break through today. I realized something. Why today? Well, because God is very good at hanging around and waiting for us to wise up and listen. He loves us so much and He hates to see us hurt. So, if that means waiting until we are in the shower or driving home from work to have five minutes of uninterrupted time with us, He will. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He opened my mind to something today, and I think that the reason that He did, was because this part of my life that was quite senseless and unnecessary. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Calm down. Don't get all worked up. I wasn't wrapped up with the mob or anything. I was, however putting unrealistic standards on myself. I was using the wrong measure of success. Ok, yes. Writing it down and saying it out loud does make it sound silly. I admit it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here: I'll explain... but it will take a while. Sorry, but you know I'm a talker.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Several factors come into play here, and they all start with this: I have been called. That fact, in and of itself can absolutely positively be misinterpreted as pious or boastful. I hope that you will open your mind though, and continue reading, because I believe that you have been called also. We all have, so you aren't off the hook here. ;) The thing that God has called me to do is to serve. To minister to people. To go spread the good news. I believe that someday I will speak to large crowds of people. I believe that God has whispered this to my heart many times. I do, I will admit, have a pretty amazing testimony to share. Also, anyone who knows me will tell you that I love to make people laugh, and I am a Class A ham. I love to be in plays and do skits, and I'm not anxious in front of people. As for the "when", I don't really care. Waiting isn't an issue for me. I think that the scripture in Song of Solomon can be applied here: </span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Song of Solomon 2:7 NIV</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After all, I do trust God's timing. My kids are very young! I waited a very long time for them. I enjoy being their mama every single day. Whatever God has planned for me as a public speaker will come along when the doors are ready to be opened, and I am very, very okay with that.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> It will be a great ride when it happens, but until then, I will wait.</span></span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></i> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so this is all nice, but what does it have to do with the topic at hand? What is the mystery character flaw that God refined today? Okay. I'll spill it.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is another part of my personality. A part besides that, love for people and onstage charm. (Did I mention that I'm really humble too?)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A desire to be liked. Yes, we all want to be liked, but I'll take my statement a step further. A NEED to be liked. Well, needed, I should say, since I have had that talk with God today. What good is divine intervention if we don't apply it to our lives! Okay. Let's try that again... I NEEDED to be liked. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let's break it down a little. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't that I was measuring my self worth by people. I know that the King of Kings chooses to memorize each of my many smiles, and that they make Him smile in response. My worth is much, and it is in Him.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't that I felt unjustly self satisfied when people would need me, or ask for my advice. I praise God for using me as His tool, and for each time that I make a difference in someone's life. Thankfully, I wasn't swimming in pride.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't even that it just made me happy to be liked. Everyone likes to be liked, but I know that true happiness can only be found in Jesus. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In their own ways, each of the things that I listed can be true for any of us, to some degree, but none of them was my issue. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My real problem was this: I felt that being unliked (or not being really really liked) was equal to failure. Now we are back to the "sounds silly to say it out loud" part. Nonetheless, here are a few examples of the lies that I was allowing to live in my head:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> 1: So and so does not read or have interest in my blog = I'm not writing well = I have failed. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">2: What's their name does not want to hang out with me/ be my Facebook friend = I'm not a good friend= I'm not being an example of Jesus to them = I have failed.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So here is what God had to say about it when He and I talked today. I've gone to the liberty of writing it out in skit form to follow the theme of the first part of this blog. I hope you enjoy!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>DUH! </b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> A short skit, about a girl who finally "gets more".</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">staring: God <i>(as Himself)</i>, and Me, <i>(as myself)</i></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Setting: It's afternoon in the present day Midwest. My kids are having rest time and I have sneaked away for a shower.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (gently) "Who is it that you say that you want to be like, Brandi?" </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Me: Washing my hair, "It's You, God! I want to imitate Jesus!"</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: "Well, how well was/is Jesus received? Does everyone 'like' Him?"</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: (Rinsing) "....noooo.... Lots of people didn't/don't."</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (Patiently),"Does that change His value to you?"</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: "Of course not!....Okay, God. I get it. Being like Jesus is my goal. I need to keep my eyes on the finish line." (feeling smarter, and grabbing my Oil of Olay)</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (Still, ever patient), "Did Jesus worry about these things during His ministry? Did He doubt that He was reaching people?" (Implies:This is doubting God)</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: </span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Washing my face, and sort of hoping that this was all that God had to say to me, since my toes were starting to hurt a little) </span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"No, He didn't. He was confident in You, Lord. Really, I get it...". </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God:"Brandi, what was that you said about me on your Facebook status last week?"</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: (still exfoliating), "Um, I wrote, 'Love God, love others. Yes, it really is as simply said as that". (I remembered that I chosen my words well when I wrote it, because it is in fact easily said, but not so easily done)</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (Still patiently), "So, let's recap: You want to be like Jesus, and your life philosophy is, 'love God, love others', right?"</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: (Just sort of standing there, letting the water run), "Yes God".</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (Full of compassion & grace), "Have I given you a Spirit of failure, or of fear of failure?"</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me: (Lifted) "No Lord, you haven't. {insert giant light bulb here}You simply asked me to love, in Your Name." (smiling, and breathing a nice long sigh)</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">God: (Smiling, almost laughing with excitement) "Daughter, My silly girl, go write a blog and share the wealth".</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Point taken. Sometimes God puts on my heart to write a blog. Sometimes He tells me to smile at that woman in the store, and sometimes He asks me to love someone who the world has labeled unlovable. Trying to be like Jesus while trying to love God and others is what God has asked of me. I am only asked to do that part! I am not responsible for anyone but myself. How others chose to react to me is completely between them and God. He may smile at them, or He may end up having a talk with them. Either way, neither success or failure should be defined by anyone's reaction to me. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So what if I never get @brankamkoie mentioned in Twitter. Who gives a tweet? (sorry, I had to) It isn't failure if I don't get loads of comments, or if so-and-so never comes around. Success is touching one heart. Success is being the love of Jesus to one person. Success is making a difference in one life at a time. Failure would be if I did not continue this race. Failure would be if I had let water get in my ears during that shower today. Ironically, that's the beautiful thing about God. He will never, ever give up on you, even if you do fail.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Keep your eyes on the finish line, friends. We have a pretty good Helper, Who is willing to carry us there if we let Him. Now go succeed!</span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-2510661284397060582011-01-26T22:08:00.000-08:002011-01-26T22:08:13.126-08:00Kid Stories Of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8xRQLNfsLNUUL6eXWbafIa_IUfSSu9zvIcTseDw83Mn3vPXvNYkla0duUC_3Cl1Sorzr-iTmsm4E7bd5i554W9r6qEblSZSoFjdQ8-z9CxhcCrThEZUF_Y7iC0MFXWyph5u6XUi3pw/s1600/seahorses.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8xRQLNfsLNUUL6eXWbafIa_IUfSSu9zvIcTseDw83Mn3vPXvNYkla0duUC_3Cl1Sorzr-iTmsm4E7bd5i554W9r6qEblSZSoFjdQ8-z9CxhcCrThEZUF_Y7iC0MFXWyph5u6XUi3pw/s320/seahorses.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ok friends, this entry is strictly for laughter's sake. I hope that you will find these as funny as Kamran and I did. We got a good chuckle out of each. Enjoy! (Let me know if you like this, and I'll consider making it a regular weekly post.)</span></span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b style="color: orange;">A Random Conversation Between Grant & His Mom</b></span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(Setting: Grant was in the bathroom. I was in his bedroom down the hall getting things ready for bedtime. The entire conversation took place through raised voices, so I guess that's why we elongated the words.)</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Grant: "MoOOOom!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me:"Yeeeees."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Grant:"I like seahorseeees!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me:"(???).....You do?... Okaaaay."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Grant:"Yeaaaaah, I do like them, but not scary cloooowns!"</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me:"(??????????)....Okaaaaay." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<div style="color: orange;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Addison quote of the week:</span></span></b></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(<i>In a calm and thoughtful sort of "warning" tone</i>) </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Graaaaant.... You're making me bossy." <br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-2119764801799423372011-01-12T11:54:00.000-08:002011-01-12T11:54:07.982-08:00Well balanced<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRwayZqVWrXbcA-l9-sBeb15zi2E-hNyQeVtS8cA7HEdOwgPDi4N_b6o0817dnRdD8akwEkjN8mplpYiP_z_hkUwqhJ_uznLmPG1PSFYgRntmAffxV452SZQ9NRldHM-ajaFfXuJi3A/s1600/balance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRwayZqVWrXbcA-l9-sBeb15zi2E-hNyQeVtS8cA7HEdOwgPDi4N_b6o0817dnRdD8akwEkjN8mplpYiP_z_hkUwqhJ_uznLmPG1PSFYgRntmAffxV452SZQ9NRldHM-ajaFfXuJi3A/s400/balance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our daughter is intelligent. Obviously, so is our son. Everyone knows that their children are geniuses, right? Well, the kind of intelligent that our daughter is is worth blogging about. She has, since infancy achieved most all intellectual development months and months ahead of schedule. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Addison could keep rhythm with music before she could hold her head up. She tapped her foot perfectly in time. This is something that I still haven't figured out in my thirties. Within the genre of music, we are also amused at how quickly she picks up on lyrics and tunes of songs. She knows them and recites them in no time at all- sometimes months later.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She could recite the alphabet before she could walk, and was sight reading hundreds of words before she was potty trained. (Ironically, she was a late trainer though.)</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At times, the thought of her being so bright scares me to death, in hopes that I nurture her in the ways that she needs. For the most part, I'm pretty sure that we are doing a good job with both children. They both learn by leaps and bounds, and that is just our normal.... </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Still, it does blow me away from time to time when our daughter exhibits a new or improved behavior. Today I sat down at my computer to answer some emails that needed attending. Addison persistently begged me to let her sit on my lap and type her name. I gave in and let her have a few minutes. Once again, I was surprised by her. She typed all of our names, and then began sounding out basic words and typing them as well. I didn't know that she could spell some of those words! I praised her and sent her on her way, careful to not go overboard on the praise, thus making our son feel inadequate in spite of being an otherwise very smart three year old. You know, keep it simple. Keep it positive, and keep it balanced.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fast forward ten minutes. I finished my emails and went back into the living room to work on laundry. That is when Grant let out a gasp. He spotted a dark blue, errrr I mean, "INDIGO" streak of colored pencil drawn on the living room wall. I looked over to Addison just in time to see her tuck her chin into her chest. Guilty.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, once again it all comes down to balance. As a mom it is my job to balance. I must balance play time with clean up time, and t.v. time, (even if it's educational!) with play time. Time with just Grant and Mommy is balanced with time with just Addison and Mommy. If we are going to have a cookie, we have to make sure that the rest of our meals are... "well balanced". You get my point. God is everywhere at all times, but I am not, so I try my best to balance my responsibilities while trusting that He is overseeing the whole thing. If I do a good job, then not only do I honor Him in the end, but I also succeed at not driving my family off the side of a lopsided life.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, why did my little whiz kid draw on the living room wall today? That's easy: I would say, because she is a four year old child! She and I used a magic eraser to clean the wall, and she promised to write on paper next time. Honestly, I would say that she is showing signs of being pretty well balanced. What do you think?</span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-89746827080130924322010-10-07T13:40:00.000-07:002010-10-07T13:40:24.052-07:00Where's the Blog?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYusZOn7Ryj6TeVaaCOlj87wCIGy8OeZzIlB164PMbhqU05dEGjpqvQj4LfZ2HU8MrGTk3lXdTIxyvDtPjvvhgQK3EyckER0AEPbvpgDNYKw9FznDISKHZ6Cen5F9BGCFWnAloOacfDg/s1600/question-marks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYusZOn7Ryj6TeVaaCOlj87wCIGy8OeZzIlB164PMbhqU05dEGjpqvQj4LfZ2HU8MrGTk3lXdTIxyvDtPjvvhgQK3EyckER0AEPbvpgDNYKw9FznDISKHZ6Cen5F9BGCFWnAloOacfDg/s320/question-marks.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well everyone, I know that the time is approaching when I'm about to get pounded with inquiries about where my latest blog is, so I thought I would send out a message.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm going through a couple of things right now. We all know that the busiest time of year is coming as well. I ask that you please pray for my family as we have had a rough month.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago Kamran's aunt took her own life. We are praying for his Uncle as he goes through this difficult time.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This past week has been equally trying on my family as we learned that my grandmother has colon, liver, and lung cancer, and is already in stage 4. It is very hard to absorb, but we must. She is active and of healthy body and mind, which qualifies her for chemo and radiation treatment. Her cancer doctor said that if it weren't for these factors, she would not be eligible. Her first treatment is next Tuesday. Her lift expectancy is drastically larger with treatment, so we are praying that she is one of those people who fairs well with chemo and radiation, knowing that so many don't. I feel it my responsibility to go and be with her as much as I can. That's what family is for. I love her dearly and I am glad to do it. I ask that you please join with us in prayer for this very special woman in my life. Oh how I would love to see her have a church home and family at this time. That choice is hers to make.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm also working on a project on the side. I'm keeping the details a little quit for now, but it needs to be done, and now is the right time. It will serve as a good distraction for me at times, and I look forward to the outlet that it provides. Sorry to be so secretive, but more details will follow soon enough.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thank you for being faithful readers. You don't know how much your reading and positive feedback mean to me. Entries may be even more scarce for a while, but who knows, there may just end up being more!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now... I'm going to take a deep breath and keep on going. Here's to hoping we talk again soon.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Brandi</span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-54241052343876930372010-09-28T11:29:00.000-07:002010-09-28T12:11:32.994-07:00Butterfly Effect<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9jtaO6SqEKv_8tatZWr4GK3tFTW__MPlKdv99e1-MfI3d17bc-XXjkuE7mLh-sE8y1uwf8iDZu3Ww-SvKyrv1qtp2crvU-383lSl0Qsl2bnrURUunOJb_hvnVRgYrRnvz_Bzyjp4Yw/s1600/mms_picture(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9jtaO6SqEKv_8tatZWr4GK3tFTW__MPlKdv99e1-MfI3d17bc-XXjkuE7mLh-sE8y1uwf8iDZu3Ww-SvKyrv1qtp2crvU-383lSl0Qsl2bnrURUunOJb_hvnVRgYrRnvz_Bzyjp4Yw/s320/mms_picture(3).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I saved a butterfly last week. Our family had just arrived at Wal Mart to grab some groceries for dinner. (Pretty easy to relate to, huh!) When we got out of the car and began to walk to the entrance, I noticed this little creature kind of struggling to not blow away on this windy day. It would appear that it had become trapped in the middle of the parking lot, much like a cat up a tree. So, I leaned over and picked the little thing up and watched it watch me. I showed both of my preschoolers the upclose view, which was a treat. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Next, my husband and our son proceeded to go into the store, but instead of following, I took our daughter and did something else. We walked hand in hand, and I talked to her about how this butterfly was lost, and it needed our help. This quickly became one of those, "everyday moments, that is a teaching moment". We took the butterfly and put it in a tree away from the parking lot. It climbed around happily. We said goodbye and proceeded on our shopping mission.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What if this mattered? No, what if this, REALLY mattered?! What if taking the time to help this tiny, seemingly insignificant insect impacted the entire world?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It seems that often in this world, we are handed out hefty doses of discouragement, and disappointment. But what if we saw things differently? What if everything we did mattered? What if it mattered, and someone proved it?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Have you ever heard of the scientific principle, The Butterfly Effect? It is defined as this:</span></span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">the phenomenon whereby a small change at one place in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere, e.g., a butterfly flapping its wings in Rio de Janeiro might change the weather in Chicago. </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm VERY EXCITED about today's blog, because the point that I am trying to convey to you, has not only already been PROVEN scientifically, but has been beautifully described in a new book by author and speaker, Andy Andrews, whom I was thrilled to hear speak last month. His book is appropriately titled, "The Butterfly Effect", and if I could, I would like to recommend it as a gift for someone special in your life. That act alone, according to this scientific principle, would change the world.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Much to my delight, when I went to his website to add a link to this blog, to pay homage to this talented author, I discovered something even better! Below you will find an online sample of this beautiful book!!! And let's add some icing to that cake: Andy has also graciously added an online sample of the children's version of the book, "The Boy Who Changed the World"! Thanks Andy. What a gift, you have given us.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Please take a few minutes to flip through and read these short books, found at your local bookstores and I promise that you will walk away with, not just encouragement, but a new sense of certainty through scientific PROOF that YOU MATTER! (The links at the bottom of the page do not include the books in their entirety, they are online samples.)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Taking this idea one step deeper, let me also remind you what the book of James says about life: </span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i style="color: #b45f06;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">James 4:14 NIV </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> I challenge you to spend this brief life making a difference and bringing honor to The Creator of the Universe with every breath you take and every move you make, bringing honor to Him. Overwhelmed? Then just take it one day at a time.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I saved a butterfly last week. How will you change the world today? </span></span><br />
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><b style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here is, "The Butterfly Effect" sample link:</span></i></b><br />
<div style="color: black;"> <a href="http://issuu.com/tnelson/docs/int-fb-the-butterfly-effect?mode=embed&layout=http://skin.issuu.com/v/color/layout.xml&backgroundColor=FFFFFF&showFlipBtn=true">http://issuu.com/tnelson/docs/int-fb-the-butterfly-effect?mode=embed&layout=http://skin.issuu.com/v/color/layout.xml&backgroundColor=FFFFFF&showFlipBtn=true</a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i> </i></div><b style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here is, "The Boy Why Changed the World" sample link:</span></i></b><br />
<div style="color: black;"><a href="http://issuu.com/tnelson/docs/fb_boy_who_changed_the_world?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Fdark%2Flayout.xml&showFlipBtn=true">http://issuu.com/tnelson/docs/fb_boy_who_changed_the_world?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Fdark%2Flayout.xml&showFlipBtn=true</a></div>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-43146770800732542412010-09-22T19:07:00.000-07:002010-09-22T19:07:24.040-07:00Where's the Crab?<object style="background-image: url("http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/SGEu0zOQ2MA/hqdefault.jpg");" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SGEu0zOQ2MA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SGEu0zOQ2MA?fs=1&hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-28666010576609107132010-09-05T23:18:00.000-07:002010-09-05T23:18:56.207-07:00Leftovers<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">(3 of 3 in the Grant inspired blog trilogy)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIScehIH6QNNGpcpWuNmsk7oxHqy5zBR5hDMnxgRultI1qK9reUmE8MrE3kM9MP5HXvW4HS59g8ptob7AzhXu1kLMO4Ad3SFQ4tPOmTOBsdsGOoJA3fOVATmMX_vDqMi7J_EgaYssV_w/s1600/leftovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIScehIH6QNNGpcpWuNmsk7oxHqy5zBR5hDMnxgRultI1qK9reUmE8MrE3kM9MP5HXvW4HS59g8ptob7AzhXu1kLMO4Ad3SFQ4tPOmTOBsdsGOoJA3fOVATmMX_vDqMi7J_EgaYssV_w/s400/leftovers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was able to join some friends a couple of weeks ago for a two day trip to the Women of Faith conference when they stopped in Indianapolis. I was so happy and thankful to go, and had an amazing and inspired time.</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That being said, like any mama, I was also happy to get home and have those tiny arms wrapped around me again. They missed me, and it showed. Luckily we arrived home early enough to spend some family time together before bed time. Treasured.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next morning was Sunday. We had breakfast, and were off to church. All was well until we dropped the kids off at their Sunday School class. Grant had a bit of anxiety at the thought of me being out of sight again. I was able to convince him, because he has learned that he can trust my word, that we would all sit together and sing in the sanctuary very soon. Reluctantly, he agreed.</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sunday School finished up and as I exited my class, there was Grant with our friend Joe. Joe's daughter was teaching the toddler class, and he had gone in to say hello. During that time, he and Grant had buddied up. The way that Joe translated Grant's requests was: "Hey, can I sit on your lap? It's all girls in here, and I need a guy pal". haha</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, we all went into the sanctuary and began greeting and visiting before the worship began. Grant pleaded to go sit with Joe and his family. Since Joe was smiling, I figured that he was ok with it. They were sitting a couple of rows up, and just to the right. Kamran and I had a perfect view of Grant, and he also had a perfect view of us. He was being adorable. Smiling. Waving. Grinning. Singing the words that he knew.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That's when he looked over to his side. His face lit up. Nothing magical, out of the blue, or overly amazing happened. He simple saw Nikki and Eric.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nikki and Eric are our friends, and they usually sit a pew or two in front of us. We visit most every Sunday. Grant grew more and more excited about seeing them. He smiled, and his eyes grew wide. He motioned again and again for his daddy and I to see them. "Look!" He would say in an overly loud whisper, as he pointed. I was giggling at his cuteness, and at the humor of him getting so excited to see the same sight that we always see....</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And there was my moment with God. My lesson. Thank goodness I was paying attention! Did you catch it?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There isn't a whole lot of lesson to teach here, is there? It's all in the story. Grant, in his childish innocence exhibited the behavior that we so often lack as supposed learned adults.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He showed passion filled joy to see the friends that are ALWAYS THERE... </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think we are kidding ourselves if we don't think that we don't short change God. Too often we give Him:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our last thoughts, rather than our first.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our pocket change, rather than a cheerful giving.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our halfhearted attention, rather than being sold out.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our leftovers.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh Lord, forgive me for my arrogance. Forgive me for my lukewarmness, and please forgive me for being a spoiled-rich-kid. May I always greet you with that same passionate joy that my son displayed, BECAUSE You are ALWAYS THERE.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*I feel that it's important for me to point this out. God shared that moment with me, but it wasn't in a shameful kind of way. He simply pointed out some inspiration for me. He didn't shove it down my throat, He didn't force me to act on it, and He even had me smiling in the midst of my conviction..... You have to give Him bonus points for using those giant brown eyes to get His point across. ;)</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want to be like Grant when I grow up :)</span></span></span></div>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-51125662570832456042010-09-01T13:00:00.000-07:002010-09-01T13:00:51.181-07:00Oh WHERE is my hairbrush?!?!?<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I supposed it's no coincidence that the day that I sit down to write the blog about the sweet and selfless reminder that my son gave me last week falls on the same day that he is pushing my patience to the edge. I guess in many ways, knowing his contrasting mood possibilities makes today's post ring sweeter still. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Enjoy post 2 in my series of 3 consecutive blogs inspired by my 3yr old son, Kamran Grant.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFEuahBlhsqmrlEkuEf5jx415chCN20ZYsMHgnN8SS9pE2puWfEhRrVcIO0m8yepuDVbqFz2JGT3sVt3elO62GKPvcD4q7Jo5se55eCxVyLDvEpLLnQQB4cAbgdrybmPmMLBflcaMaw/s1600/Hairbrush09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwFEuahBlhsqmrlEkuEf5jx415chCN20ZYsMHgnN8SS9pE2puWfEhRrVcIO0m8yepuDVbqFz2JGT3sVt3elO62GKPvcD4q7Jo5se55eCxVyLDvEpLLnQQB4cAbgdrybmPmMLBflcaMaw/s400/Hairbrush09.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm a flake. You know my type: We can never find anything. If we are used to carrying 3 items out the door, but randomly have an extra item to carry, we will most likely subconsciously check off three items, one of which is the random item, thus causing us to forget one of the regulars. We, of course, don't realize this until we are half way down the road, unless we are lucky enough that the forgotten item was our car keys. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm a perfectly otherwise intelligent and otherwise mature person, but indeed, I do find myself looking for my bra, my cell phone and my hairbrush on a nearly daily basis. (Sorry for the bra image, but it's a fact.) </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was getting ready for work the other evening when I was searching for my hairbrush, regardless, I was in a pretty good mood, and I was joking out loud with my husband that you think that as frazzled as looking for these things makes me, I would practice more prevention. During this time, my three year old son Kamran Grant decided to intervene. He put down his toys and came into my bedroom and began searching right along side me. We chatted a little, and then he was gone. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I decided to take a little break from my quest and do some other prep work for my show. About five minutes later Grant excitedly ran back into my bedroom. He couldn't wait to share his hairbrush with me. It was the one that he had gotten as a baby from a friend, with the soft bristles, designed for smoothing peach fuzz. "Here you go Mommy! You can use my hairbrush". </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSAiHY1yE0RyP7r68szbXmdH7QYpJDOWPybIm4AFjmFz2wl3kbMv4ZegZFQieml_ndGxb73yy2LgOj7nl2lOLSC7-10RCLnvIVBJoqoJpDEWDAaQqhsvreC4F_kJwPVJH4_dq3VFf5g/s1600/P1120304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSAiHY1yE0RyP7r68szbXmdH7QYpJDOWPybIm4AFjmFz2wl3kbMv4ZegZFQieml_ndGxb73yy2LgOj7nl2lOLSC7-10RCLnvIVBJoqoJpDEWDAaQqhsvreC4F_kJwPVJH4_dq3VFf5g/s400/P1120304.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, obviously this hairbrush would not do the intended job. It wouldn't begin to tame or part my thick hair. But don't you think for one minute that I let that steal my son's blessing. I showed him the appreciation gratitude and excitement that his actions warranted. I'm not trying to brag on myself here, but this is just one of those times that I knew that I did the 100% right thing. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I whisked the brush out of his hands and began delightfully brushing my hair on all sides. I looked in the mirror, just as I always do when I get ready. As I brushed I poured out my thankfulness in elevated tone. Next I rushed off through the house calling for my husband by name. When I found him I shared with him the happiness that I felt because of Grant's offering. I will never forget the look on my son's face as he listened in the kitchen doorway. It was much better than the satisfaction that I got from knowing that I had taken time away from getting ready for work. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The look on Grant's face was one of smiling eyes. He knew that he had made me happy and had gained absolutely nothing from it in return, and yet that was enough. He was happy that he had made ME happy. Even now, as I sit here and write this I almost tear up.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We Americans are all rich, whether we care to admit it or not, and that makes it very important that we make efforts of properly teaching our children the importance of taking themselves out of the center of the universe sometimes and practicing selflessness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the moment that I stood there in the kitchen looking into Grant's eyes listening to his father join in on the praises I felt a surge of different joys.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~I was joyful that a three year old took five minutes of his playtime and devoted it to helping someone else. (In my opinion, that is a long time for a toddler to stay focused on something that isn't self-benefiting)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~I was joyful in the feeling that I had, that I am doing something right in my parenting. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~I was joyful that I took the time to make the fuss that I made, even though the clock was ticking and I still wasn't ready for work.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">and, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">~I was joyful to see this example of how perfect worship between us and God should be. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Too often we have the attitude that loving and serving God is a trade off. That they are requirements that we must fulfill to stay in good graces with Him and hopefully have our needs met. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Could it be that we usually miss the mark? Could we maybe be making this harder than it should be? I believe that true worship or service to our Lord is a heart issue. They are to be done for the pure joy that it brings to Him.... with no strings attached. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">2 Corinthians 9:7 NIV</span></i></h4><div class="ResultText" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a <span class="Highlight">cheerful</span> giver. </span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(this is not just about tithing.)</span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the moments that we spend with Him, in whatever way is most fitting for each of us individually, if we can loose ourselves in Him... if we just... delight in His delight, if we can just cry out knowing that He deserves all that we could give and more... I believe THAT is true, unpolluted, unadulterated, genuine worship/or service. If I were to guess, I would say that He smiles within His joy in those moments. The moments that we actually GET IT. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'll bet that these are some of God's favorite moments. On this day, He decided to share one with me. I was proud of Grant, and He gave me a small glimpse of how I make Him feel when my agenda is pure. Thank goodness for the times that we listen. The times that we "get it". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the end, I didn't find my hairbrush before work. It didn't even matter, since I realized that I was also out of hairspray. (geez, I need to get with it) I smoothed back my hair halfback into a clip and went to work smiling anyway. Why wouldn't I be? I realized that Grant had "gotten it" and so had I, and that was all that mattered. </span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-41008118816435469812010-08-23T12:48:00.000-07:002010-08-23T12:50:40.595-07:00To Scrapbook, or Stroke Out..... That is the Question.<div style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For whatever reason, God has chosen my son specifically to inspire my next 3 blog entries. Here is the first of the three. I hope you will enjoy them all.</span><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of months ago I was thrilled to not only join a group of wonderful ladies from my church family for an evening out, but also, to be the group leader. The event was our annual Wabash Valley Ladies Unity Night. As always it was wonderful, and the best part: It's always FREE! (The ladies that put on the event go to a lot of hard work, and put in a lot of prayers to make this happen. Kudos to them!) This year's special guest speaker was author, speaker, actress, wife and mommy: Lisa Whelchel. Lisa did a great job. She spoke about many things from growing up as a child actress on "Facts of Life" to surviving in healthy adult friendships. That night she shared a very sweet story that stuck with me...That story will define this blog entry.</span></i></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, as hard as we try, us self-declared Super Mom's can't do it all. We can't get everything done, we can't always make everyone happy, and we can't be everywhere at once. That last one can be frightening sometimes. Sure, in all sorts of serious, "Mommy needs to protect her babies" ways, but also in other ways.... Like when you have a "budding artist" for a son.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I will recount the event for you. It was a Saturday. My husband Kamran was out picking up the childrens' new playhouse/swing set. (Yea Craigslist deal!) I was in our home office playing Princesses and Strawberry Shortcakes with Addison while Grant was planted in front of the television watching Saturday morning cartoons. (We don't have cable, so this is a big deal.) I noticed that he was being sort of quiet. I had just checked on him about 5 minutes earlier and we had "thoroughly discussed" how he should not play with the automatic water dispenser on the refrigerator door. My suspicions of him playing in the water sent me to check in. Well, my suspicions and </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">also a pleasant smell that was filling the air....</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He had listened to me. He hadn't touched the water at all. Not one drop. Instead, he decided to spend his time more creatively. What I walked into next was... One of those times when a mama must decide if she will grab her camera or have a stroke. Grant had gotten a hold of a full container of baby powder. I'm impressed at all he accomplished in less than 5 minutes.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Here is where the Lisa Whelchel story comes in. During her talk, Lisa shared this story about her two, then quite young, daughters. She set up and easel outside in the backyard and put out several shades of paint. She could see them through her window one minute, but not the next, so she went to investigate. She found her two daughters buck naked out behind the shed and they were painting one another. She grabbed her camera and snapped the memory on film forever. In this moment, God taught her a priceless lesson. He instantly took me to Lisa's story as He taught me the lesson firsthand, (although I'm thinking, "Hey Lord, Lisa's example would have done". ha ha)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we misbehave, God isn't just some stern parent waiting to punish us. How many times is He tickled with us? How many times does our Father shake His head while laughing to Himself, "Oh, Brandi, my sweet and silly girl"? And then He does what Lisa did, and what I did. He takes us out of the mess and cleans us up. How comforting is it to think of Him in this way? I truly believe that God made us parents for this reason alone: So that we can have the best idea possible of how He loves us. Obviously, our minds can never grasp His love in its entirety, but being a mother has given me the closest and deepest coloration that I think I can experience.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm not saying that our consequences don't have actions, and I'm not saying that God likes it when we misbehave. What I am saying is that there is a difference between being childish and misbehaving. In this instance I think that Grant's actions were a sort of mix of the two. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I believe that God knows our hearts, and our intentions. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Imagine being 3. The texture of baby powder along with the fact that it's it makes smoke in the air and sort of drifts its way around would make it worth exploring. However, being 3 you would probably recall something about not touching the baby powder too. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, what did I do? I didn't raise my voice, but I didn't let him see my enjoyment either. (No need to let him think that this is how we please Mommy!) I simply picked him up and told him on the way to his nap, (a full 5 minutes early. I'm so mean) as I undressed him from his powdery clothes that he should not have touched the baby powder and that he made a mess that mommy would now have to clean up. I told him that I loved him and to have a good nap. Then I left him to go clean up the mess. He was screaming from the other room, "Mommy, I want to clean up the mess! I want to help clean up the baby powder!" Now I know that some of you have tilted your heads and let out an "awww". Not so fast. Let me translate for you, "Mommy, I wasn't done playing in that yet!". The little stinker LOVES to sweep. We got him a play broom for Christmas that sings while he uses it.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I won't go into great detail about the clean up. I will sum it up instead. Headache from fumes and breathing in powder while sweeping. It took 3 complete times with a broom and a bandanna on my face. Um, yeah. I was the Johnson and Johnsons bandit. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After his nap, Grant and I had a little bit more of a talk about things and I suggested that he sweep a little to "help me" clean up ;) </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kam came home and added a hefty mopping to finalize the duty.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My hope for you today is that you see our Heavenly Father as the loving parent that He is. He is ready to kiss your boo-boos and brush you off if you let Him. He designed you to be you, and He simply delights in your silliness sometimes. God DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES, He makes MASTERPIECES. You are one. A work in progress. Trust the refiner's fire continue to smooth out your edges, but just know that He chooses to enjoy the process each step of the way.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #274e13;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today's blog is a treat. You will also get to experience the entry through photo. No clever words that I could ever come up with would come close to describing this properly. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In fact, without the pictures I'll bet that you might accuse me of exaggerating a bit.... Enjoy the art show and make sure to read the captions beneath each photo. (Thanks Lisa for mentioning the camera, I'm so glad I took pictures!)</span></span></i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcW1VxYikl35Lp1o0AbYhI4OLT47aPQy_tCXdep6bn05flvHO6A8e78jOcVcyFfZAGEtzy7Y3IPBB9VbbydDi3CpJmHMVz7h0SociC8ubS5FnrGKKV0irhDoKc880gEEf-y_4Ivou2xg/s1600/P1120064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcW1VxYikl35Lp1o0AbYhI4OLT47aPQy_tCXdep6bn05flvHO6A8e78jOcVcyFfZAGEtzy7Y3IPBB9VbbydDi3CpJmHMVz7h0SociC8ubS5FnrGKKV0irhDoKc880gEEf-y_4Ivou2xg/s640/P1120064.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Artist's "Signature"</span></span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rqhU6_OOSiQMtIQ8ned4pM5IbcsDGMTy1hkvveBNn9eh5f-GU7gqfSfMFzuztNBfWK7Yp2Tiqs8AU5ueXtrOJxtmPUVcxo8VS7PvDMsOI6SDW_k5WQ50ZuHg6n9PtBYnkWFTm2b0gA/s1600/P1120065.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rqhU6_OOSiQMtIQ8ned4pM5IbcsDGMTy1hkvveBNn9eh5f-GU7gqfSfMFzuztNBfWK7Yp2Tiqs8AU5ueXtrOJxtmPUVcxo8VS7PvDMsOI6SDW_k5WQ50ZuHg6n9PtBYnkWFTm2b0gA/s640/P1120065.JPG" width="640" /><i><b></b></i></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;">His medium of choice. Tantalizing to the senses from sight, to touch to smell (I can not testify to the taste, however)</span></b></i></span></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/AVvXsEgVar8bakQDYFF2Vf8uWVxuB5yq_Kig6yUJAgqFu8WI2SyYQGnC6PR3o1tvts_Wwqor-nGlRlppb-gqK4iVeXK7GBMBOChyphenhyphenO52gLuMtHVxKXW0_7I-RuzubY0KtAVp4g_gfEz7XxZ75MQ/s1600/P1120068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVar8bakQDYFF2Vf8uWVxuB5yq_Kig6yUJAgqFu8WI2SyYQGnC6PR3o1tvts_Wwqor-nGlRlppb-gqK4iVeXK7GBMBOChyphenhyphenO52gLuMtHVxKXW0_7I-RuzubY0KtAVp4g_gfEz7XxZ75MQ/s640/P1120068.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;">As you can see, a spoon was a tool he used</span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkzKXysnnxCyvLaPuzfhyphenhyphenLxhk8R2rViNy0ZO0XXtnGs3yWGx0_T1kz4tbh0jinkN9HvBnEn18Mpb9gMvVMg7L1J9Eg4sTz_0vd89kWv2cExWBuUbFZrl5Ro75Ju-imWMkCHDkM1dTiA/s1600/P1120066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkzKXysnnxCyvLaPuzfhyphenhyphenLxhk8R2rViNy0ZO0XXtnGs3yWGx0_T1kz4tbh0jinkN9HvBnEn18Mpb9gMvVMg7L1J9Eg4sTz_0vd89kWv2cExWBuUbFZrl5Ro75Ju-imWMkCHDkM1dTiA/s640/P1120066.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A lifelike snowy scene</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkraMDrn5wsfhptjI4qZHFAn-Cj9N4EVnylkmP1PAcy5iSNPwUROdL2jtBvGIAqv8k8UHij5y6c4fUDK20kRZCaaEfV2sNKAkyDUhzXIDnlzlYPwN8hoeSjVIIzM1cNaef520TFNkWMA/s1600/0807001436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkraMDrn5wsfhptjI4qZHFAn-Cj9N4EVnylkmP1PAcy5iSNPwUROdL2jtBvGIAqv8k8UHij5y6c4fUDK20kRZCaaEfV2sNKAkyDUhzXIDnlzlYPwN8hoeSjVIIzM1cNaef520TFNkWMA/s640/0807001436.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It takes most artists years to come up with this </span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">kind of depth to their work</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpK97nJKT_hPsS9FFWDMzgtmIgrKkGIS0IwIU0CvFID-Zol-cIjeRi0FnMyVSeDASRWCRVlTDv8lwbQ_UKeGfbxZ3d1CelOTXvsQneGcAGRGOhOoZBS5Za_JafDu717y6pm7LWwHEow/s1600/P1120070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpK97nJKT_hPsS9FFWDMzgtmIgrKkGIS0IwIU0CvFID-Zol-cIjeRi0FnMyVSeDASRWCRVlTDv8lwbQ_UKeGfbxZ3d1CelOTXvsQneGcAGRGOhOoZBS5Za_JafDu717y6pm7LWwHEow/s640/P1120070.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm not really sure what the artist was</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">trying to express with this one</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhfcomZBVYeeHLb3_rjBFuN5tdUnjJuWD91WM4nCtQTNRIPOELKaxz-c4BvenR8ueglRIFMxMxvo5Y1t5opEEcDhNPxMeP0mAD7cE3rlTPwsMVZkyhUCzEZs8wcxIx3aIB22f4GpWKg/s1600/P1120071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhfcomZBVYeeHLb3_rjBFuN5tdUnjJuWD91WM4nCtQTNRIPOELKaxz-c4BvenR8ueglRIFMxMxvo5Y1t5opEEcDhNPxMeP0mAD7cE3rlTPwsMVZkyhUCzEZs8wcxIx3aIB22f4GpWKg/s640/P1120071.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This piece personifies how Woody felt during the</span></span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">first half of Toy Story 2 </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXsUS_9ZaC188sXCYPNBLzpns6pdFnqTADnUhhhCaxFeYuhxsnXtVwUb6YbwxQ0ehiW8rsgFKdJ7CTELjzZVbfs3X8m3DleDpxA0K0SsIJjg-3Gm4CcxN6kZ2jZ_AtUjFzTij4H9XWA/s1600/P1120067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXsUS_9ZaC188sXCYPNBLzpns6pdFnqTADnUhhhCaxFeYuhxsnXtVwUb6YbwxQ0ehiW8rsgFKdJ7CTELjzZVbfs3X8m3DleDpxA0K0SsIJjg-3Gm4CcxN6kZ2jZ_AtUjFzTij4H9XWA/s640/P1120067.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here we see the,</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I'd better try to clean this up" section</span></span></b></i></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCSvoYjqGRrIlCgqA66fEyiYSTr4oUxuoVHXcpYxH5y8QjvJSMN8RAtk2810n3iEM_K2ZyY1YiBv9I3wDQj_FGmNeig2prq2uBqB0WDd8FL9KuM-43Ztkkqcnrh2AMH3bfpB9fOX7nA/s1600/P1120077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCSvoYjqGRrIlCgqA66fEyiYSTr4oUxuoVHXcpYxH5y8QjvJSMN8RAtk2810n3iEM_K2ZyY1YiBv9I3wDQj_FGmNeig2prq2uBqB0WDd8FL9KuM-43Ztkkqcnrh2AMH3bfpB9fOX7nA/s640/P1120077.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I feel a sort of chaos being expressed here </span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kind of similar to a crime scene don't you think?</span></span></b></i></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhTVSOWZbyLMW8O-6mezjns1vU3mKIwP8OrLwI46Ojs7Zxo6wIm_7WlEL5Vd1Gu4k3FA8lq4QSps08tVLEQ-lPw3IjTML2qenY1f5UXlxb6P53FGjMmIsy2EpJaARk-P-qtuLqptcKw/s1600/P1120072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhTVSOWZbyLMW8O-6mezjns1vU3mKIwP8OrLwI46Ojs7Zxo6wIm_7WlEL5Vd1Gu4k3FA8lq4QSps08tVLEQ-lPw3IjTML2qenY1f5UXlxb6P53FGjMmIsy2EpJaARk-P-qtuLqptcKw/s640/P1120072.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b></b></i></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">From chaos to serenity, this piece is like a </span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">peaceful labyrinth or rock garden</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMMdU4akM47G5N4OQupOeJpHGoJy1oupEHf7Gu_Kp6clS4QCh_4vQBXrKDojlqZPGO9wsZghcq2YH-mCu_7vqFPI2RD65MgAfq9avnxILymr3eAjc-KTqLzNqwsMsivssEId2bRBobw/s1600/P1120076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMMdU4akM47G5N4OQupOeJpHGoJy1oupEHf7Gu_Kp6clS4QCh_4vQBXrKDojlqZPGO9wsZghcq2YH-mCu_7vqFPI2RD65MgAfq9avnxILymr3eAjc-KTqLzNqwsMsivssEId2bRBobw/s640/P1120076.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I doubt that Buzz's years at the</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Academy prepared him for this.</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(I like how he is covering his mouth as if coughing on the particles. If only his helmet was down. Poor guy.)</span></span></b></i></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2iwRFbJJdvi_rl5JCv4dgAfvOyNHMrkNsJHz821JdiS1xuT4zi2fKBPKrsMAaUTiPbTOQDwusDSQAIAHocyJVlsg1u80pqyNwJ_g8U3TJUXLtpLx8UGrBJXgBJYvLu1M5InhzfOW_FA/s1600/P1120075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2iwRFbJJdvi_rl5JCv4dgAfvOyNHMrkNsJHz821JdiS1xuT4zi2fKBPKrsMAaUTiPbTOQDwusDSQAIAHocyJVlsg1u80pqyNwJ_g8U3TJUXLtpLx8UGrBJXgBJYvLu1M5InhzfOW_FA/s640/P1120075.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> I don't particularly like this entry. Our dishwasher is broken, and we just use the rack for drying. What I'm feeling here is that dishes must be rewashed by hand... Not my favorite theme, by far.</span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8G1NWXVH_qHjLKxnRLUXzqD_ijlsPkCUEzhplnW0JvQBb8Ar7NnY2EMSIEbcE8mP64onKelbj498AtYjdPMNkT_WX-5XqP_boHqmr9i6YqowmCwp1zA_mz3z2XA43KajKliHnO8iKA/s1600/P1120074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8G1NWXVH_qHjLKxnRLUXzqD_ijlsPkCUEzhplnW0JvQBb8Ar7NnY2EMSIEbcE8mP64onKelbj498AtYjdPMNkT_WX-5XqP_boHqmr9i6YqowmCwp1zA_mz3z2XA43KajKliHnO8iKA/s640/P1120074.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></b></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And the </span></span></b></i><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>pièce de résistance:</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>I was actually speechless</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b> </b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b> </b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ95oIOYHNmUtng7PE2z32ClSOpRsm_d-omcBfRNUIQlDYv4mQHXGucu8vxL7uEZrmT8Ff0PIZLjti4tbgrHqtEYCpi8CglF6-dJwHHli8a9t49DmYJWX2p-V9KO_ZiJhTwRJjDWXWw/s1600/0807001616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ95oIOYHNmUtng7PE2z32ClSOpRsm_d-omcBfRNUIQlDYv4mQHXGucu8vxL7uEZrmT8Ff0PIZLjti4tbgrHqtEYCpi8CglF6-dJwHHli8a9t49DmYJWX2p-V9KO_ZiJhTwRJjDWXWw/s640/0807001616.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Maybe my having this photo of him</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>will be punishment enough </b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>(sorry about the blur, I grabbed my cellphone to snap this shot) </b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b> </b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxT3MVgudFRevrBz_DOwZd97H6rIaMJIOBQmM9n9Tc4M_Sqa9G47fL4W2j6__DkVH7mh-w4YKITtlaWjUzpJ2v_NMerCwnyqtR_eEBDOkhroIm5s1Hkm2x9FGfAfbrrun-qWXmVwd1Q/s1600/P1120079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxT3MVgudFRevrBz_DOwZd97H6rIaMJIOBQmM9n9Tc4M_Sqa9G47fL4W2j6__DkVH7mh-w4YKITtlaWjUzpJ2v_NMerCwnyqtR_eEBDOkhroIm5s1Hkm2x9FGfAfbrrun-qWXmVwd1Q/s640/P1120079.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And God loves us both. That is what it GRACEFULLY comes</span></span></b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">down to in the end <3</span></span></b></i></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-37006876266762933262010-08-18T22:44:00.000-07:002010-08-18T22:47:06.030-07:00The Stubborn Biker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNrFzQnMNZuSsJOye3hHJasFV1f6SsjJrzepgW4qIDXzvbR3PJN_02pRF-ajh5EM342wvLt-CBtmYwwb355vjJznFCjivxpbqtgUy_T35CWZrCXWlDCD3bofJxHAk-SxfSGxyVgD2gw/s1600/601px-Bicycle_Route_sign.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNrFzQnMNZuSsJOye3hHJasFV1f6SsjJrzepgW4qIDXzvbR3PJN_02pRF-ajh5EM342wvLt-CBtmYwwb355vjJznFCjivxpbqtgUy_T35CWZrCXWlDCD3bofJxHAk-SxfSGxyVgD2gw/s320/601px-Bicycle_Route_sign.svg.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago I was on my way to our monthly jeweler training, one of the few times that I am ever in the car alone, enjoying the drive when this happened.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was admiring a new bike trail that our city has put in. There have been several efforts in the last few years to make our area more biker friendly, and I for one am quite pleased with this. This newest path extends along side a sort of narrow and slightly curvy and hilly road. Before the bike path the road was surly less biker friendly and maybe even dangerous at some points. It will be well used also, because it connects with a State Highway at one end. To add to the appeal the path turns at the other end and heads into one our city's most loved and well known parks. Why yes, that is one nice bike path. I have been watching it's progress. The path is wide and well paved. I like the several points of entry and exit along the way where it crosses the driveways of many homes. In fact, when I borrow the bike that Alex is going to lend me, I may have to go take a ride on that paSCREEEEEEEECH!!!!!!!!!!! <i>(Like the sound of a record player being abruptly stopped.)</i> What?! ......What is that in front of me?.... What does that guy think he's doing?! Why, the nerve of him! </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yes, you guessed it: My happy fuzzy dreams of enjoyment on the bike path were interrupted by.... A MAN ON A BICYCLE. :/ He wasn't enjoying the path. He was on the road in front of me. I was behind him for the entire remainder of the road. He made no efforts to more or even get over so that I might pass.(And I know that he saw me in his fancy mirror!) He peddled as quickly as he could to get up the road's most prominant hill. All the while I am sitting behind my steering wheel looking back and forth between him and the empty bike path thinking, ".....really?!?".</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Now, this blog could go in the obvious direction of PATIENCE, but it won't. (You can all thank me for that later since we all know that reading anything insightful about patience usually means that you will be going through a trial with it.) Instead I'm going in this direction: <b> </b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>The Paths We Choose.</b> In the scenario that I'm presenting I want us to be the biker instead of the frustrated driver in the car behind the biker. We are "The Stubborn Biker". God paves the way for us. He uses His Spirit and His Word, and encouragement and healthy examples through the lives of others. He does not send us out there blindly. Don't get me wrong, I'm not under the impression that God's path is always sunshine lollipops and rainbows, (ok. That song is in my head now too, so here's the link:)<span style="color: #4c1130;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j09r7Km7JdE" style="color: #4c1130;">http://www.youtube.co/watch?v=j09r7Km7JdE </a></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">God never promised that our paths would be that. In fact, quite the opposite. We will be persecuted because of Him and our love for Him at times. Someone will stumble on this very blog someday and think that I'm a nut job just because I have faith in a God that I can't see in His own living flesh. Regardless.... I choose this path. Possible persecution won't scare me away from my Father's plan.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, what does God say about our paths then? Well, this subject is mentioned so many times in God's Word that I'm not even going to count them. Before I continue, I will list a few examples though.~</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/numbers/22:32/'); return false;">Numbers 22:32 NIV</a></span></h4><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The angel of the LORD asked him, "Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your <b><i><span class="Highlight">path</span></i></b> is a reckless one before me."</span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/2-samuel/22:37/'); return false;">2 Samuel 22:37 NIV </a></span></h4><h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">(also Psalm 18:36)</span></h4><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">You broaden the <i><b><span class="Highlight">path</span></b></i> beneath me, so that my ankles do not turn.</span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText"><h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/nehemiah/9:19/'); return false;">Nehemiah 9:19 NIV</a></span></h4><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the desert. By day the pillar of cloud did not cease to guide them on their <i><b><span class="Highlight">path</span></b></i>, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take.</span><br />
</div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/psalms/119:104/'); return false;">Psalms 119:104 NIV</a> </span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">I gain understanding from your precepts; therefore I hate every wrong <b><i><span class="Highlight">path</span>.</i></b> </span><br />
</div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText"><div style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/psalms/119:105/'); return false;">Psalms 119:105 NIV</a></span> </div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my <b><i><span class="Highlight">path</span></i></b>.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> (Notice that He only lights enough to get us from day to day on our path rather than lighting the whole thing. If He did that we wouldn't need faith. What kind of character would we have then?</span></span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/proverbs/23:19/'); return false;">Proverbs 23:19 NIV</a> </span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">Listen, my son, and be wise, and keep your heart on the right <i><b><span class="Highlight">path</span>.</b></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"></div><div class="ResultText"><div style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>And this last one is my favorite <3 :</i></b></span></div><h4 class="ResultTitle" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/my-bible/#" onclick="Salem.HistoryManager.LoadLeft('#/passage/niv/proverbs/3:6/'); return false;">Proverbs 3:6 NIV</a></span></h4><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: small;">in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your <i><b><span class="Highlight">paths</span></b></i> straight.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="ResultText"></div><div class="ResultText"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There are a lot more, but you get the point. </span></span></span></div><div class="ResultText"></div><div class="ResultText"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today, I want you to know why that that bike rider drove me crazy. It wasn't because he was more fit, it wasn't because he was going to make me late to my meeting, and it wasn't because the sun blinded me reflecting off of the fancy mirror that I mentioned before. It was because he was missing the point! In fact, I think it's safe to say that he was missing out, all together. This isn't me being judgmental either. Remember, in this scenario we are the bike rider. Keep following me here. How many times do we peddle our hearts out and end up completely exhausted trying to keep up with "traffic" when there is a perfectly serene and well paved path that we could have taken instead? How many times do we ignore the several chances that we are given to reenter the right path? And how many times in this life do we continue to fight to prove that we can make it on that wrong path? It seems to me that we too often fight for the wrong path and find that it isn't something that we needed or even wanted when all is said and done. Just think about that nice bike path that we could have been riding on instead. It promises to meet all of our needs. I hope this has gotten you thinking a little. But I'm not done! I have one more <u>very important</u> point to make.</span></span></span><br />
</div><div class="ResultText"></div><div class="ResultText"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you have read this blog and you might agree that what I'm saying is true, but you, well.... don't really care, then this is for you: There was one more factor greatly affected by the bike rider's poor decision. That factor was me. Not to mention every other car behind me. When we blatantly choose our own path over God's not only are we thumbing our noses in insult to Him, but we are also hurting those around us. It's selfish of us. We grossly underestimate the effect that we have on others. Think about Random Acts of Kindness. Think about The idea of "Overflow"ing to our families, our community and our world, (which is our church's theme this year.) Think about the young people that are looking up to you whether you like it or not. God wants to use us to bless others. He could just do everything for Himself, but then we would never understand a thing and would end up terribly spoiled. And, if we do it right, He does get the glory. In that same way of thinking though, when we don't make efforts to live lives that are pleasing to Him, we hinder others. We don't overflow to them and at some point, everything dries up. I remember many years ago I was living a life that I knew could have been more Godly. It wasn't until I realized that my actions could influence others in a bad way that I cared enough to make some changes in my life. I am claiming in NO WAY to be perfect, better than. I'm simply making efforts on a daily basis to take God's path for me and am trusting that the God who created the Universe may know what He's doing in my tiny little life.</span></span></span></div><div class="ResultText"></div><div class="ResultText"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Taking the "Bike Path" is also a treat. They aren't available on many roads around here. Just imagine how much more peace and rest that our rider's journey would have had if he would have taken part in the oasis while it was there to enjoy. I'm thankful that God's path always is.</span></span></span></div><div class="ResultText"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*Oh, and here's a bonus for you: Always wear your "Helmet of Salvation". ;) </span></span></div><div class="ResultText" style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(I can just hear my husband's groan when he reads that.)</span></span></div><div class="ResultText"><br />
</div></div></div></div></div><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-22742611461658921232010-07-31T00:51:00.000-07:002010-07-31T00:51:19.720-07:00She is Wise<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRggIooaNewbxrXIvJX-YsoWy_mQjy-la3fBGgGHR0Dj1lgnFaghTE2nd95cVyloh2_kABI-iY2cUDGUYjslb8NcyiB0d9o6sg0MAgIFwlDbSS1DPTXbmAY5oHWhovE5Ft8h_CVNKvQ/s1600/The+Face+of+Wisdom+by+Ezshwan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRggIooaNewbxrXIvJX-YsoWy_mQjy-la3fBGgGHR0Dj1lgnFaghTE2nd95cVyloh2_kABI-iY2cUDGUYjslb8NcyiB0d9o6sg0MAgIFwlDbSS1DPTXbmAY5oHWhovE5Ft8h_CVNKvQ/s400/The+Face+of+Wisdom+by+Ezshwan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The Face of Wisdom, by Ezshwan Winding</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We have been doing a study of God's love of women this month. In a time when they were devalued, and thought of as "less" God, and later Jesus, continuously lifted women up in equality. Because this has been our topic of study, more and more things have been opened up to me. I noticed tonight that in Proverb 3: 14-18 Wisdom is referred to as "she". Another example of God lifting and honoring his daughters. If God did not hold women up high then He would never have allowed Solomon to give something as sought after as wisdom the title of "she". So many times I have found throughout scripture that God can take you deeper and deeper into His word, and the same verse can speak to you in a new way. When I look at versus 13-18 and think of wisdom as a "she", I can draw a parallel between wisdom as an asset and an actual woman.</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">13 Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, 14 for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. 15 She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. 16 Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. 17 Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. 18 She is a tree of life to those who embrace her; those who lay hold of her will be blessed.</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If a woman is a Godly woman, a woman of wisdom, then how blessed would that man be to find her? Reread the versus and consider wisdom as being his Godly Wife. If a woman is the wife that God has called her to be, then the attributes in these verses would also be present in her marriage as she in turn lifts her husband up as well. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Just as I count myself blessed to have a wise and Godly husband, I believe that he considers himself blessed to have a wise and Godly wife! ;)</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you want to take your mind one step deeper, consider the following verse:</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">19 By wisdom the LORD laid the earth's foundations,</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This one of many examples of a verse that helps women to see that God relates to all of what and who we are, even though He is a... well, a HE. Wisdom is called she, and the very next verse says that God used it to lay down the earth's foundations.</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We are all failed and flawed human beings, but that does not mean that God does not have expectations. (Not to be misunderstood with earning one's own salvation, which is a gift) I believe that He asks a lot of us because He knows that when we have faith and trust in Him, we have the wisdom and the strength to follow through.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /> <span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*And just in case you were wondering, yes, Proverb 31, "The Woman of Noble Character" chapter does include wisdom also:</span><br style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /> <span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">26 She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.</span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-61170375387963705682010-07-15T11:45:00.000-07:002010-07-15T11:46:03.823-07:00The Blue Bucket<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrtinotZ-PV4YuyEkAYReka7n3Gle76of6GiQyOD1x2aVO4qHgvt9KsBOrqVuftRHvpoDCs4G4vKzrySNdfR54iOnxpAB4C353COjiIErd0ovLZwo1tkf3lKRDipciO_Aya_dmz_7qw/s1600/P1110735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrtinotZ-PV4YuyEkAYReka7n3Gle76of6GiQyOD1x2aVO4qHgvt9KsBOrqVuftRHvpoDCs4G4vKzrySNdfR54iOnxpAB4C353COjiIErd0ovLZwo1tkf3lKRDipciO_Aya_dmz_7qw/s320/P1110735.JPG" /></a></div><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">In this scorching heat my kids, like most, have enjoyed playing in a backyard kiddie pool. It's a figure 8 shaped double ringed blow up pool, and you bet your sweet tan lines that I'm not too proud to hop in with them. I am after all the lifeguard and the referee, and it gets pretty hot on the sidelines. ;)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">We have a Little Tykes slide set up for perfect entry (for the smaller swimmers anyway) and just before they step onto the slide, I have set up a blue bucket. This blue bucket is important. It is filled with water and the kids must step into it and rise their feet off before getting back into the pool. If not, they carry in dirt, sand, and oh so many grass clippings!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">It wasn't common yesterday to hear myself, my husband, or one of the kids simply shout out "blue bucket!" as a warning to whomever was about to muck things up. I started to notice something after awhile. My son (age 3) would randomly say, while still in the pool, "mom, I'd better go get the blue bucket" or "I need the blue bucket" Obviously, he is missing the real point of the blue bucket, and how it washed off the ick from when he is outside of the pool, but as I sat there, trying unsuccessfully to avoid being splashed in the face, I felt God bring a parallel to my mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">In many ways, the blue bucket in our lives is repentance: Asking forgiveness and getting the "ick" out of our lives. I believe that when I asked God to forgive me for my sins, that He was (and still is by the way) big enough to take them all away, even the ones that I hadn't yet committed. However, that does not mean that I as a follower of Christ can live life full of rebellion without consequence either. I want to live a life that brings honor to God, and so when I see grass clippings in my life, I know that it is time to step in the blue bucket rather than have them floating all around me, and messing up the life that He wants for me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">How many Christians fail to keep on the Helmet of Salvation mentioned in Ephesians 6:17? A helmet protects your head. </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">To wear the Helmet of Salvation means to protect your mind from the World and the doubt of one's own salvation that it can cause, which ultimately leads you to doubt everything. Think back to Satan's temptation of Eve. <span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-57" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1</sup><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?" </span></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">He made her doubt the truth. "Did God really say....." Now let's look at the when he tempted Jesus at the beginning of His ministry. <span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Matthew 4 </span></span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-23213">3</sup>The tempter came to him and said, "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread."</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">and </span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-23216" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">6</sup><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down. For it is written: </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> " 'He will command his angels concerning you, </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> and they will lift you up in their hands, </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.' " </span></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Doubt, yet again. I have known many believers who have doubted, and will admit to even doubting at times, as a young Christian myself. That makes us like my son wanting to get out of the pool to go wash off our feet to get back in the pool. I have learned the true meaning of the Helmet of Salvation though, so I never have to live in doubt again. Yes, it's hard to imagine, and our minds can't comprehend it, but God's love does in deed stretch that far. He saves lossers, and sinners. No exceptions. The beauty in the whole thing is that our gracious God probably just smiles and shakes His head at us when we waste the time thinking, "oh my silly child" just like I did with mine. He does not expect us to walk through this life without err, but He does expect us to learn as we go, and I'm sure that He hopes that we err less along the way, because that means less heartache for us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Oh, and one side note, I caught my daughter putting only one foot into the blue bucket at times. Don't try this. Jesus paid it all, go ahead and give it all to Him.</span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-32354251773519093152010-07-15T10:54:00.000-07:002010-07-15T10:54:22.521-07:00Telling girls how beautiful that they are, and that it's the beauty within that really counts<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">I wanted to post this to my site because it goes hand in hand with my last couple of blog entries. I can't wait to watch this show with my little princess :)</span></span><object height="345" width="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.bigidea.com/tv/flash/miniplayer.swf"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name=FlashVars value="loadvideo=126"></param><embed src="http://www.bigidea.com/tv/flash/miniplayer.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" FlashVars="loadvideo=126" width="350" height="345"></embed></object>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-9375330835644261002010-06-26T00:40:00.000-07:002010-06-26T00:47:12.063-07:00You can sleep in high heels, attend funerals barefoot ....or, live in the middle.<div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCx6kuhF8K0UugflJmCcWO_Z4hC7J-aWH0_y0Q9coVn8KxYCirgxltuL76oePsGHjEbIvItL47AUb0IsiHNxoOJnSJ5iB6rbrpAqLmsraygOF-oXjIFyiiqwet8yECRqrmrFPr-ppOw/s1600/bongo+kyra+pump+paisley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCx6kuhF8K0UugflJmCcWO_Z4hC7J-aWH0_y0Q9coVn8KxYCirgxltuL76oePsGHjEbIvItL47AUb0IsiHNxoOJnSJ5iB6rbrpAqLmsraygOF-oXjIFyiiqwet8yECRqrmrFPr-ppOw/s320/bongo+kyra+pump+paisley.jpg" /></a></div><div style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>For those of you who don't remember, I fell in love with these shoes, but alas, I never found them. Bummer! ha ha</i></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It's my prayer that God will help me to express myself well in this blog, because the thoughts behind it become rather complex and can get a bit "muddy" at times.</i></span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How many times have I seen the same old behavior from my fellow women? The behavior of going to extremes. I've done it myself, I'm sure, and most likely, so have you. My hope is that being aware and enlightened may help keep me on track to living in the middle. Hopefully I can inspire you to do the same. </span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #990000;">There is a beautiful medium between vanity and self neglect. The key is in finding and residing in that place. It's where God wants us to be.</span> (You can quote me on that. It may be the most profound thing that I've ever written!)</span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></b></div><div style="color: #274e13; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Sleeping in high heels:</span></i></b></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is obvious. It's vanity. Putting on make-up to go pick up the mail at the end of the driveway, being too busy shopping to pick up your mother at the airport, and flat out thinking that you are a level above the common people. The truth is that in my experience, a majority of the people that I know or have met are not "High Heel Sleepers".</span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></b></div><div style="color: #274e13; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Barefoot in Public:</span></i></b></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(I have to laugh at this description, because it's probably much more likely than the first, but bear with me and see where I'm going.) Much more common in my experience, but just as dangerous is Self Neglect. Having NO CLUE what size dress or pants you wear, going gray and frizzy because you "aren't worth the trouble", and letting people walk all over you are all examples of extreme self neglect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I think that most women are smart enough to see that living life vain isn't a healthy choice. However, I must admit that I can't say the same about the other extreme. It seems as though we somehow tell ourselves that doing without and putting ourselves last is always the right choice.... This is the muddy area that I mentioned before. Is it right to put our childrens' needs ahead of our own? Well, any mother will tell you that it is. I'm not suggesting that we neglect our children. What I am suggesting is this: Our children are watching us. They are learning from everything that we say and do. Too many women fail to see the beauty within them that God placed there. I know too many women that don't think that they are worth a new pair of shoes. We somehow believe that we are martyrs of some sort and that we are being humble and selfless, and too often this leads to self neglect. I hope you are following what I mean. Being humble and selfless are admirable traits, but sometimes they aren't the issue at hand. Sometimes the issue is loving yourself enough to buy something pretty for yourself. Sometimes the issue is just letting someone call you beautiful and accepting it. Our daughters and nieces and so many other young girls are watching us! I for one delight in seeing my 3 year old run to the mirror when she is wearing new clothes, or dressed up as a princess as she exclaims, "I look beautiful!" She isn't being vain, she is being honest. Why are we afraid of sounding vain, but not of sounding full of self pity? We vocalize about our wrinkles, our gray hair, our extra pounds and our ratty clothes. Obviously, the hope for others to relate or reassure us comes to mind. But hold on to your seats girls, I'm about to break the cycle. I'm giving you permission to say that you are beautiful...because you are!!! What?! You don't believe me? Well read your Bible then. 1Peter chapter 3 tells us about our inward beauty. I can honestly remember reading that chapter once and feeling like God was calling me beautiful. (sigh :) What about the fact that we were "fearfully and wonderfully made"? God didn't use a grab bag when He made you! Read my favorite Psalm (139) and remind yourself that He carefully designed and knit you together in your mother's womb. God is TRUTH. His word is TRUTH, and His word calls you beautiful. So be honest like my daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am an independent distributor for a wonderful jewelry company. I love my job. The company honors God and is successful because of it. One of their main objectives is: "To enrich lives". So, it isn't about the product really, it's almost a fellowship at times! I get to help women feel more beautiful, and I LOVE IT!!!!! Whether they purchase a piece from me or not, I get to laugh and smile with them. Share my love and some brownies too! ;)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> During my time as a jeweler, one thing that I have found to be true is that the way that I dress ABSOLUTELY affects how I feel, and how I behave. It has really brought to light the "middle" that I try to live in. I didn't realize just how far to the "barefoot" side that I was hanging out. What if I'm on to something here? Think about it: If we neglect ourselves and dress dumpy everyday we may just end up feeling... well, dumpy. The next thing you know, you sort of think you ARE dumpy, and you don't even realize that you think it. It just becomes a part of you... And all the while, there is that niece watching how to become a woman someday.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not trying to come down hard on anyone, I'm just trying to open some eyes, as mine have been. Just as I wouldn't want my children to learn to speak profanely or abuse others, I also would hate to see them grow up without a balanced scale in the self-worth department.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I absolutely love my cute shoes and pretty earrings, but I am not wearing them to bed ladies! I will walk barefooted in the mud in the backyard during playtime and then wear my adorable pointy toed heels and matching handbag to church the next day, wishing that women still dressed in lovely hats as well. Ahhh yes, I like it here in the middle. Join me, won't you!?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #4c1130; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-50536895424946655002010-05-16T14:00:00.000-07:002010-06-17T18:54:24.069-07:00From "Blah" to "Blessed"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyGNnjY34Xy_cjkMKws2efMqg12re2ZQ5blpi5Z49TK77etKgxjRWg6Ak8v98P8rd74W5R6aiG2PYbEwnGPi1yu1jlVUIS8SjcHIQVXuqa7HR4saAg1YSgIP-tSXnop4nb0moXs7new/s1600/Hem.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 351px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyGNnjY34Xy_cjkMKws2efMqg12re2ZQ5blpi5Z49TK77etKgxjRWg6Ak8v98P8rd74W5R6aiG2PYbEwnGPi1yu1jlVUIS8SjcHIQVXuqa7HR4saAg1YSgIP-tSXnop4nb0moXs7new/s400/Hem.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472035171304665042" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >This blog entry is inspired by the story of the woman with the issue of blood, as found in the Gospels of Matthew (9:20-22), Mark (5:25-29), & Luke (8:43-48) You might want to refresh your memory by reading up before you read on.<br /><br />I will admit that this blog is directed toward women, but I certainly hope that any of my male readers who check it out will be blessed also, and perhaps come out of this reading with more thought toward this story, tha</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >t is probably hard for you to identify with. (But consider yourselves warned that this is a womanly topic ;)<br /><br />Blah! :P That's how she must have felt. Imagine.... She had her period for twelve years. Let that sink in, in real terms ladies. Think about what it must have been like for women in the past to get thorough each month without modern conveniences. Now quadrupole that inconvenience and you have this woman's every day life FOR TWELVE YEARS. It was m</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >ore than just the physical inconvenience also. Let's break it down a little:<br /><br />As I already pointed out, she certainly must have felt BLAH. Cramps, bloating, headaches, and low iron. She was probably oh-so-tired all the time. She most likely had some pretty bad mood swings and terrible food cravings too. (and no chocolate anywhere!!!) Her breasts ached and felt heavy, and she had no proper bra to support them, so her back hurt too. She had no Midol, or Ibuprofen, no tampons or panty liners, no wet wipes, n</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >o shower, and no disposable tissue.<br /><br />I know, when you think about it in detail, you feel even worse for her. But, there is more:<br /><br />Socially, she was an outcast. According to the old law women were "Unclean" while they cycled, and had to perform a ceremonial cleansing after, each month to be considered "clean" again. While one was considered "unclean" they were forced, by law, outside of the city and a certain distance away from people all together. When they approached they had to shout out "unclean! unclean!" to inform others, so that they may be av</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >oided. How humiliating.... While every woman went through this embarrassment once a month, she would have had to do it every day for twelve years. There would have been snickers and rumors as to what awful thing she had done to deserve this "punishment". Her friends and family would have gotten used to life without her around. They may have considered her an embarrassment and a disgrace. She could not visit them because anything she touched would also be considered unclean. She missed hugs and fellowship and meals with family. She didn't get to welcome nieces and nephews into the world or watch them grow. It would have seemed similar to as if she had simply moved away.<br /><br />What about her love life? Well, scripture does not say if she was m</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >arried or not, and If she was, I'm pretty sure that she would have had to live away from her husband according to law for this entire time. And let's face it ladies, even if that law weren't keeping her from him, she sure didn't feel sexy. Reread the above paragraph if you have any </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >doubts there. So, even if she wasn't married, she probably still felt unattractive. She must have wondered if she would ever seem appealing to a man since she had probably grown to see herself as unclean and unattractive. An outcast. If marriage was something that she longed for, she must have wondered, "Will I ever become a wife?"<br /><br />How about a mother? It is unclear how much the physicians in her time knew about fertility, but we know that the number of eggs that a woman is born with never increases. We also know that a woman sheds one egg with each cycle. My goodness, I wonder how young this woman was. She was within her childbearing years, but by all accounts would never become a mother herself because of her issue. To make matters worse, menopause was more quickly approaching, due to the frequency of the cycles. While the relief of that solution must have seemed welcoming, I'm sure that the thought of the infertility that would come with it brought much heartache as well.</span><a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC0hnyv4msJvIKygIg3TQ1sIgAzM1iNDD4HjPjCl_PGO87_0rpXT-7Rnj0DZV_doKZ_BuTDlIv2IEn2b4_x8c2se62iWLyUGmGws2LeBHpykhUvS_4MPUeHiGK-gOOtALJuBbe18vfQ/s1600/Hem+upclose.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC0hnyv4msJvIKygIg3TQ1sIgAzM1iNDD4HjPjCl_PGO87_0rpXT-7Rnj0DZV_doKZ_BuTDlIv2IEn2b4_x8c2se62iWLyUGmGws2LeBHpykhUvS_4MPUeHiGK-gOOtALJuBbe18vfQ/s400/Hem+upclose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472037085882057586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />Desperate. She was a fighter. She didn't give up. Her picture belongs on one of those billboards with the word "PERSEVERANCE" under it. She went to every doctor imaginable, no matter the price. She spent all she had, in fact. Sadly, the end result only left her suffering worse. And then one day.... He came into town.<br /><br />She had, no doubt, heard about this man, rumored to be the Messiah. Scripture tells us that when she met Jesus the crowd surrounding Him was so large that He was pressed from all sides. So it is safe to say that all the buzz had been about this Miracle Man as He approached town. It would mean breaking the rules if she went to Him, but if what they were saying was true, the ends would justify the means. Perhaps she could hide in the crowd and no one would notice her because of the focus on Him. One thing is a</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >bsolutely 100% clear: She was filled with faith that Jesus was the answer. At long last, she had found her answer, and nothing was going to keep her from it. He wouldn't have to make a big fuss, she could just touch His garment and it would be enough.<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >So, the woman took her unclean self among the people and </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >joined the crowd. Can you imagine the scene in town? Picture the people pressing themselv</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >e</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >s </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >in</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >to Jesus. All of them shouting out requests as He walked through the crowd. The disciples pr</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >oba</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >bly did their best the surround Him, but it did not keep the multitude away. The woman </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >weaved in and out of people drawing closer and closer until she was FINAL</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >LY close enou</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >gh. </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >She touched his clothes. (Mark 5:28) Immediately she was healed. Just like that. After all she had gone though, after all she had suffered: It was all over. She was healed, and s</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >he knew it.<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >What happened next is astounding to me. Jesus stopped. He was busy and on His way to do more, but He stopped. He felt the power leave Him and He stopped to find the source. How many times did I read this scripture through the years and miss something magnificent?! I want to share this treasure with you. When He stopped, Jesus said, "Who touched me?". Ok friends, don't miss this... Jesus asked who, but obviously, He knew who. As I pointed out, He was being touched from all sides. When He</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > walked through that crowd they were glued to Him like teenage girls would be to Robbert Pattinson today. Different motives maybe, but it would have been similar in appearance, nonetheless. Even the disciples were puzzled</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > as to w</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >hy was He asking who touched Him when He was being clobbered by so many. So friends, why DID Jesus do this?</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > Why? </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Why draw public attention? Why separate her from the crowd? Well, this just my interpretation, but I feel pretty strongly about it. I think that that Jesus did it for her. For years she had been looked down upon, neglected, and isolated. Her worth must have seemed small to everyone, including herself....but not to Jesus. I think that another healing took place at that moment. Not a physical one this time, but a mental and spiritual one. This outcast had gotten the attention of the One that none of them could. Not only did He commend her for her faith publicly, but He addressed her by the tender and loving title of "daughter". Nowhere else in the gospels do we see this from Jesus. She was His very special girl, beautiful and worthy in His eyes. I can only imagine the respect that she had from those among her after this. It makes me smile to think of the complete difference that Jesus can make in a life in an instant.<br /><br />Even as He was speaking, Jesus was pulled away to another urgent matter. Where does that leave the woman in the story? She has a new life. A second round, with better cards. Jesus could have just healed her very bad physical problem and that would have been more than enough for her, but Jesus overflowed Himself into all areas of her situation instead. He went above and beyond. She walked away....healed, more completely than she had even hoped.<br /><br />I close with these thoughts for women. You are so beautiful to God. Allow His Spirit to overflow in your life and you will find that you then overflow that same Spirit in love to others. </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >As the woman in the scripture knew, Jesus IS the answer. </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Don't be afraid to call Him "Abba" (Daddy) ladies. I believe that He will hold you close and call you Daughter if you let Him. :) After all, you are His very special girl.</span><br /></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-42371324739650260282010-04-22T10:54:00.001-07:002010-06-17T18:59:11.220-07:00Duck Season ALREADY??!??!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKkDbG02wS7TLsLvm6TQdDdaQoL57wrog1Zt2VZCFXP-KawIzmHcVVUFlH-gKSc-9u_pakr7w77ehUmmj-JjdTkjBAJqgmSygxU9Tg6ZEJ_iB9JNEEOeV50NtPGd5WS2EXnD7k_28NQw/s1600/DaffyNoFeathers.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKkDbG02wS7TLsLvm6TQdDdaQoL57wrog1Zt2VZCFXP-KawIzmHcVVUFlH-gKSc-9u_pakr7w77ehUmmj-JjdTkjBAJqgmSygxU9Tg6ZEJ_iB9JNEEOeV50NtPGd5WS2EXnD7k_28NQw/s400/DaffyNoFeathers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463021863123801202" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Well, that just about says it. How has my week gone? In a word: FEATHERS... It makes me feel better to think that there is a lesson to learn in everything that we experience. If I couldn't learn something from my latest "Lucy Moment" then I might just go apes...well, "ducks" anyway.<br />It is spring cleaning time, and I have been in full swing over the last couple of weeks. I'm proud to say that my pantry looks better than it has in years, down to the new labels that I hope help us to keep it that way. Our taxes are filed, and this took a certain amount of special care also since it was my first year as a business owner. Our spare room is now called "the Office" and this brings hope and excitement for my business this year. I now have a desk and everything that I need for Premier has a place to make things work as efficiently as possible. The kids even have desks in there so that they may also "get some work done".<br />Yesterday I moved on to another task: I planned on washing all of the bed clothes in the house down to the pillows and even our feather bed. I began with the feather bed because I knew that it would be the biggest chore, and that it would also take the longest to dry. What a mess. (Understatement of the year) I should have know better when I had to press twice to get the washing machine door to latch.... but I didn't. I figured that I could wash the feather bed in our machine since it is large capacity, and since it has no agitator. It was not a wise decision. Because it was so large it rubbed against a protrusion inside the washer, which you guessed it: ripped a couple of large holes in in feather bed. So, I sat on the floor in a pile of wet feathers sewing a wet feather bed for about an hour yesterday, just so that I could dry it... and then I began the lengthy task of cleaning wet feathers out of the washing machine. I planned to dry the feather bed in the dryer for a while and then drape it over our deck to air/sun dry the rest of the afternoon. I got into a fight with some carpenter bees, so that plan didn't work out. A little while later I began to smell something...hot. I am so glad that I took the feather bed out of the dryer when I did, before it caught fire! It now has large scorch marks down the side of it. Our feather bed looks like it went through some sort of harsh battle yesterday. Although I laid it in the sun it was still not dry enough to sleep on last night.<br />So, now lets fast forward to today. I woke up with sciatic pain. I missed my feather bed last night. We need a new mattress badly, and that soft plush layer on top is the only thing that keeps us hanging in there until we get it. So I was all too happy to get up with the sun and put that dry feather bed back on. Ahhhhh :)<br />Fast forward a little later. After breakfast it was time to put some towels in the dryer. Oh... my... GOSH! Where did all of those feathers come from?! Seriously!? We cleaned out the washer! :S Let me tell you, we had, in fact, NOT cleaned it out at all. If you could guess the worst possible thing to wash with feathers, it would have to be towels too. I can not begin to tell you how many feathers I actually pulled out of that washer again today! I sat there in piles and piles of feathers. Apparently, they got down into the holes in the washer and came back out and embedded themselves into the towels. After re-spinning the towels and shaking them all individually, I dried them and lent catcher got oh so many more. Meanwhile, I was still bagging up feathers from the floor and the washing machine. I began sweeping them up and no kidding, they clogged my vacuum. So, I had to take the vacuum completely apart and de-feather it as well, all the while, covered from head to toe myself. Kamran was home for lunch by this time and made us a salad for lunch. I got washed up and sat down thinking about the feathers and the lesson in it all, and just as I bowed my head for Kam to bless the food, I noticed a fluffy white feather on the top of my salad. (Yes, we laughed.) So, which lesson did I learn? Well, a few things stick out to me:<br /><br />1) Warning Labels: How much trouble would we all avoid if we just followed the directions every time? (I'm a directions reader too, so this is embarrassing for me to admit.) If I would have just headed that warning "dry clean only" I would have saved myself A LOT of trouble. I didn't have the money to dry clean it, so I ignored the warning and didn't follow the directions. My mom used to say "Poor people have poor ways". I say, "Yip!" haha The truth is, we need to stop thinking that we are the exception to the rule and realize that rules are rules for a reason. The texting while driving and properly securing your children while in vehicles are the first things that pop into my mind. Come one people.... these kind of accidents are easy to prevent, and the mess you could end up in is way messier than feathers.<br /><br />2) Sometimes God allows us to go through something for the outcome. I've said it a million times: God is multifaceted. In this case, He used one mess to clean up another. There is nothing you could say that would convince me that my vacuum would have been so well cleaned today, or any time soon for that matter, if it hadn't been pointed out to me. While I was picking up feathers it made perfect sense to clean the crevice where the carpet meets the wall. I went through a lot, but what a nice looking hallway and vacuum I have now. It wouldn't have been how I would have chosen to spend my morning, but then again, I wouldn't have had the positive outcome if I hadn't gone through it.<br /><br />3) GRACE: If you think about it, this whole fiasco is a really beautiful picture of God's grace. I am so glad that He knows my heart and my true intentions. I didn't have evil intent, but all I did was make a mess that made a mess, that made a mess. That's all that we can do on our own, isn't it? If we try to clean up our lives without God, no matter how hard we try, we are just going to spread the mess around, and it will end up in every other part of our lives. We can not expect to ever get rid of every feather on our own, can we? We are kidding ourselves if we think that we can. Just when you think that you have cleaned yourself off, you will find a feather in your lunch. One of the most comforting and restful things about God is found in the book of <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Romans 5:6-8</span> </span></span><sup style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" class="versenum" id="en-ESV-28038">6</sup><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. </span><sup style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" class="versenum" id="en-ESV-28039">7</sup><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— </span><sup style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" class="versenum" id="en-ESV-28040">8</sup><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Did you get that?!?! God loves you IN YOUR SIN. He died for you, not because you were good enough, but because He loved you enough. If we love God, then we will, and are even commanded to, do good works, but do not ever let yourself believe for one second that your good works will get you one step closer to Heaven. If was HIS GRACE and by it alone, that He opened that door. I can't imagine living with the pressure of feeling that you have to first clean up your own mess before you could attain salvation. You will never be perfect, so how could you ever know for sure under those conditions? </span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Ephesians 2:8-10 8For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-9n</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >ot by works, so that no one can boast. 10 </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >God made me who I am. He molded me and formed me to be silly and spunky and to be able to laugh at all of the "Lucy Moments" that I manage to find my way into. I could get frustrated and cry about those feathers, but where would that get me? Let's face it: I'm going to be lucky if I'm done cleaning feathers by Christmas. They will continue to sneak up on me and find their way into my days I'm sure. Instead of crying, I will look at those little white fluffy things as a lovely picture of God's grace. "If His grace is an ocean we're all sinking". (How He Loves, John Mark McMillian) In my case, if His grace is a feather, then I can't escape it! :) Not to mention the symbolism for the better night's sleep that I will get tonight cuddled up in that feather bed. I don't even want to think about going one day without grace, it would be like sleeping on that old lumpy backache of a mattress without the feather bed. Instead, I can curl up in His grace and rest assured of my own salvation, knowing full-well that it is covered. Someone else paid that bill for me. I don't need to lose any sleep over that! </span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-55881038971523589422010-03-25T11:05:00.000-07:002010-06-17T19:00:49.175-07:00Finding wonderful when Mr. Potter shows his ugly face<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibQTOE9Y8Q8YtU6C_tGvs6oojnXNvNynoJ7hdykFkQu3-cdCAoqFr03dFPopBecZsE5Mqbq0u-NFjw08Ni1XLJgrvOBtYv7ZRho-re1bW_k9GdHVQnB91tEI9L4KINblkBMNJoh-JTQ/s1600/uncle+billy+%26+mr+potter.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibQTOE9Y8Q8YtU6C_tGvs6oojnXNvNynoJ7hdykFkQu3-cdCAoqFr03dFPopBecZsE5Mqbq0u-NFjw08Ni1XLJgrvOBtYv7ZRho-re1bW_k9GdHVQnB91tEI9L4KINblkBMNJoh-JTQ/s400/uncle+billy+%26+mr+potter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452653090079992258" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >*SPOILER ALERT!* IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN "It's a Wonderful Life" #1: I'm going to talk about key plot moments here, so stop reading! & #2: Go now!!! buy it, borrow it, rent it, whatever... Just watch it, for Pete's sake!!! </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">What are you waiting for!?!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">So, I was watching the news last night when they shared a local story. It was about this older woman who had lost her life savings. I was, of course expecting to hear that she was swindled by some "slick youngster", but that wasn't the case. She went to the bank and withdrew her life savings from a safety deposit box and placed those contents in an envelope...but the money was gone, without a trace, when she got home. I was dragged into this sad story hook, line, and sinker. I can tell you the exact look on my face: My head was tilted to the side slightly, my eyes were full of compassion, (and nearly tears!) and my mouth was open in a little sad pout. That is when Kamran walked in. He asked me what was wrong and I brought him up to speed as the reporter continued with the story. I said to him, "It's just like It's a Wonderful Life! All that money, and even in an envelope at the bank! How sad...". About that time the reporter finished the story by saying that the family is offering a reward for any information that could help their loved one. Then they gave her name.... It was: Mrs. Potter. Wide eyed, I double gasped. "Potter!!!! Oh my gosh!" My husband, who was obviously not as emotionally invested in the story as I was, simple erupted into laughter. He isn't cruel, anyone who knows Kam knows that. But- he wouldn't miss the opportunity to poke fun at me either. To tease me even more, he turned to the screen and pointed his finger, and said in a funny, yet grumpy voice: "What goes around comes around, Potter!" Then he laughed again, and at that point I also found myself laughing hysterically at the whole thing, then feeling bad for the real Mrs. Potter, I tried to stop, but eventually conceded to laughing again at the irony.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I was a grown woman of nearly 30 before I saw "It's a Wonderful Life". It </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >is </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >such a good story, with more than one very deep message. I, like many, love it for that, especially from a Christian view point, applying the same ideas to my own life. God has a plan you know, for you and your real life, just as He did fictitiously for George Bailey in the story. I have to admit though, that when the movie was over I was pretty surprised that Mr. Potter never got what he had coming to him. I felt a little unjustified in that old geezer not being brought to justice. That is when, this story went from fairy tale to real life for me.... This part of the story was 100% real life, without the Hollywood cherry on top. This happens to you, and to me. Sometimes Mr. Potter wins, and the world is none the wiser. Sometimes Mr. Potter wins, and the world just doesn't <span style="font-style: italic;">care</span>. BUT, its ok, isn't it. Those of us who put our faith in trust in Jesus know a few things that can help us past the nasty ol' Mr. Potter moments our lives. Here are 3:<br /><br />1. God says that vengeance is His in Romans 12:19. He is omnipotent and He knows the other side of your situation. He sees the big picture with every view He takes. We are to let Him take care of it.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > He has our back. Sometimes He lets us see the other side, but there is no promise that we ever will, so don't hold your breath waiting, like Jonah did.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />2. Miserable people are usually miserable because of hurt. </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >We probably all have a relative or community member like this. </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >In the end, George scored way ahead of the game. He realized, more than ever before, that it really IS a wonderful life. He was surrounded by love and warm hugs. What did Mr. Potter have to keep him warm? His money?<br /><br />3. We live in the world, but not of the world. In John 17:14-18 Jesus talks about this. My husband used to have a tee shirt with an ichthus (Jesus fish) in a fish bowl that said, "</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >This world is not my home". </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Compared to what God has in store for us, we are limited to a novelty sized glass bowl for now. Keep your eyes on the prize: The Heavenly one. God allows us to be taken advantage of sometimes, but He will never do it Himself. Why? Because when we are stricken, we acknowledge our need for Him, and quite simply, we grow closer to Him. Besides, the treasures of this world will be gone someday, and Heavenly things last always. *And need I remind you that we will be so overwhelmed when are given those treasures in Heaven that we will all cast them at the feet of our Savior anyway.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And so, as I sit here smiling about how George Bailey's sudden misfortune brought him to more riches then he ever knew were possible, and how he finally realized that his life had immeasurable value, I say a prayer for the Mrs. Potter and her family back here in real life, and in the present day. I found an article online, and it turns out that the owner of the money was, in fact not named Mrs. Potter, but it is her daughter that is. Her mother was withdrawing the money to pay the nursing home bill of her husband after medicare benefits ran out. (Even more depressing, I know) I pray that God will bless her "exceedingly abundantly beyond all she can ask or think". Ephesians 3:20, because that is what a wonderful life is. Won't you please pray for her too?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Here is a link to the news story:</span><a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" href="http://www.wave3.com/Global/story.asp?S=12193223"><br />http://www.wave3.com/Global/story.asp?S=12193223<br /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">And for those of you who just want the added laugh of the classic SNL skit, where Mr. Potter DOES get it in the end, here's that too:</span><br /><a href="http://www.hulu.com/watch/4267/saturday-night-live-its-a-wonderful-life-lost-ending">http://www.hulu.com/watch/4267/saturday-night-live-its-a-wonderful-life-lost-ending</a><br /></span><br /></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-38961514454930585662010-02-06T14:21:00.000-08:002010-06-17T19:01:40.198-07:00Singing, Dancing, Writing, a 5K, & French Bread,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGP9491meYkjYFF3icLDt_0gZ0vBrhsfjmdqqbhGx7OH1xoaL3qNGHFHYWGvGM96eQC35jUuxPqkNUovNXGlFm4PZ3osO8M5UvZl1miTPRYgqhevcpcF26WbCsaw-Zmsk8_paLW-O0Vw/s1600-h/P1090608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGP9491meYkjYFF3icLDt_0gZ0vBrhsfjmdqqbhGx7OH1xoaL3qNGHFHYWGvGM96eQC35jUuxPqkNUovNXGlFm4PZ3osO8M5UvZl1miTPRYgqhevcpcF26WbCsaw-Zmsk8_paLW-O0Vw/s400/P1090608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435278013721314818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Do you like old hymns? I may get a tomato thrown at me for saying so, but I'm not a huge fan. It's okay to me that some people are - I'm not against them or anything. It's just that, they aren't the way that I personally connect with God. I'm no fool. I realize that my children and eventual grandchildren will probably feel the same way about the music that I listen to, and that's okay with me. Because, it isn't what you worship to, or even how you worship. The important thing is THAT you worship. Worship is connection with the Lover of our Souls. It isn't always found </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >in reading the Bible</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >, prayer, or even </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >at church</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">. Those things are good, scriptural, and necessary for your relationship to grow as well, but without worship they can each quickly become monotonous or ritualistic. Can you imagine if your spouse only went through the motions? I for one would feel staleness over time, if my husband only showed affection toward me with a peck on the lips before work everyday. If he never hugged me or told me lovely things about myself, and what I mean to him, I can imagine myself questioning a lot of things. Like commitment. Are you showing God your commitment? Are you worshiping Him in some way that is special to you?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">I am an "art person". I am not mathematical or scientific in nature at all. That is not to say that I'm not a deep thinker at times, but throughout my life my spirit has my commonly "overflown" ;) through some type of art, music, performing (I'm a first class ham), or writing. So you don't have to stretch your mind very far to imagine someone like me trolloping around the house singing out some worship song as I go about my day. I'm a night owl too, and I can't tell you how many times that my worship has come in the form of drawing, sculpting clay, colored pencil or paint at 3 in the morning. Sometimes, there isn't even a worthy end product, but that isn't the point. Many times I've come across an old notebook and flipped through the pages to find some poem or attempt at a chorus to honor God. This is my kind of worship.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">As many of you know, I am now in a cult: "The runner's club". I have been at it for about two and a half months and it is most definitely a way of life for me now. It is tricky to find the time, or a clear road some days, but running is part of who I am now. I hate to admit it, but I don't even hate it as much as I had. *Please note, "as much". I began running after I could no longer deny that The Holy Spirit was nudging me to do so. I had to get over my initial fear, but I did it. I even became comfortable enough to go public. (see former blog entry "Holy Cow, I'm a Rockstar!!!") Beginning in cool weather was a good choice for me, and I calculated that into the getting over my fear part. (Hey! What do you know! I am a little mathematical after all.) I had a heatstroke as a 7 year old, and as a lasting effect I get overheated easier then the average Joe. Also, I have exercised induced asthma.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">So, I have been running in this freezing cold, but making incredible progress, nonetheless. I am very proud of myself. I will be entering my first 5K in about a month. (If you are wondering where I'm going, hold on, I'm nearly there.) My sweet husband got me an MP3 player for my birthday, which was only a week or two after I began. It has a nice armband and a stopwatch on it. My trainer friend has me running for time rather than distance or speed, so this feature is just perfect. I have known all along that the music helped me. I have laughed out loud before as some of the lyrics seem to be custom for me at that very moment. Lines like: "I don't have time to maintain these regrets" and "my heart beats violently inside of my chest", "praise Him under open skies", and there is one that escapes me now about rhythm, but needing rest. Occasionally as a runner, you will have one of those days where you feel like you are literally pulling dead legs behind you, and you must mentally push yourself toward the goal. On those days, I swear that I can feel God encouraging me through song lyrics. Yes, there is no doubt, even to a nonbeliever: music helps one to run.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Today was cold. Very cold. We had been out earlier in the day playing in the snow with our children, but by the time that I got to run, the sun was going down, and the windchill (which is the real killer, by the way) picked up a lot. My scheduled run today was 30 minutes. I have been doing 30 for a while, and will be increasing on Tuesday, in fact, so it wasn't a problem as I set out in the cold, cold wind. Quickly I regretted not grabbing my scarf. As bulky and annoying as it is, I still wished I had it as extra bundle around my face today. Nonetheless, I said a little prayer, focused hard on the music and pressed on. Intently I got lost in the lyrics, often wrapped in scripture. The thoughts and wonders of our Amazing God soon distracted me from the cold and I ran. I ran and ran. Then, all of a sudden....silence. Now I heard: Cars whizzing. A flag's facets clanging hard on it's pole. A man's footsteps crunching in the snow. A dog barking. And most loudly, my heavy breathing.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">I'll bet you think you know what I'm going to say. Do you think that this blog is about beauty and appreciation of nature? How I found God in the silence? Sorry. Not this time. The eight minutes home was enough for me to realize that running, the thing about myself that is most foreign to me, has somehow become a form of worship for me. Isn't that just like God? The same God who "makes beauty from ashes". Yes, that's exactly what has happened here. He has called me to Him. To grow closer still. And He used a part of my life where nothing was natural or came easy for me. Oh my goodness, Yes! That is my God. He has made beauty from my ashes once again, even if the ashes were just yucky exercise.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">God wants ALL OF YOU. He wants to be the Lover of Your Soul. Is He? He won't force Himself there, but He will most definitely meet you there with lots of hugs if you let Him. And so I ask you: What is worship for you? Where can you find yourself getting lost with Him? If it is in that hymnal, then by all means honey, sing away. Consider finding Him in art like I do. Or maybe it's cooking. Mmmmm. A fresh loaf of bread smells of comfort, and all of that kneading is good for stress relief. Whatever form it is, do it. Tell Him you love Him and find Him truly awesome. Dance, sing, paint, bake, walk in the woods, rock a baby to sleep, sit in the dark with Him, or even, yes, run in that awe. Do it, and grow closer to Him.....But don't be surprised if one day He finds you in a place like changing the oil in the car and somehow makes that worship too. He is like that. :)</span><br /><br /></span><br /></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-54405686390101170882010-01-28T15:36:00.000-08:002011-01-27T10:37:01.703-08:00There may be no "I" in team, but now there is a team within Addison's EYES!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZZnBoVf3lq3i2sYwmwStFazwUoIdb7nt1lKUrElYLhu0a8UPOwJGRPfsQhTdgzyMG5tfr1zchjDaMMz1436rMA16pm1sVjw9_fDmT36uO1de20vTBVo6SdOUY2dUAt01vdbbutjKlA/s1600-h/P1100365.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431945900555042034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZZnBoVf3lq3i2sYwmwStFazwUoIdb7nt1lKUrElYLhu0a8UPOwJGRPfsQhTdgzyMG5tfr1zchjDaMMz1436rMA16pm1sVjw9_fDmT36uO1de20vTBVo6SdOUY2dUAt01vdbbutjKlA/s400/P1100365.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 300px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kamran and I are so touched at all of your love and care during Addison's eye surgery. I decided that I would blog to update you all on how today went. As you can see from the photo, taken just as she returned from recovery, Cuddling with Mocha and Daddy was the perfect medicine.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">BACKGROUND:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For those of you that don't know the specifics: Addison had eye surgery at Riley Childrens' Hospital to correct an eye problem called esotropia. Basically, her eyes were not working together, and she was in a state of constant switching back and forth. There has been quite a bit of crossing and turning in of the eyes as a result, and her depth perception has been poor. Over several months we did an eye drop treatment to strengthen a lazy eye that had developed as a side effect. Today's surgery strengthened muscles just inside the corners of each eye. Her eyes look straighter already! There is a percentage of patients who must have this procedure done twice, especially those with blue eyes, like Addison. Our prayers have been that it would be a one time thing, obviously.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">THANK YOUS:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello everyone, and thank you so much for your prayers and thoughts for us and our special girl. She is doing so well, that her doctor said, "most kids don't look this good this soon after". I had to laugh, because we had been specific in our prayers, and asked for a speedy recovery that would be "as if she hadn't even had surgery". We have felt your love and friendship pour out through your constant texts, e-mails and Facebook letters, calls, continued questions throughout, helping with Granty, and of course your personal prayers. We are blessed to have all of you.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">DOCTOR/HOSPITAL:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The surgical team at Riley was nothing less than wonderful. Orderly, professional, thorough, and at the same time kind, personable, helpful and yes, even timely. We are proud to call Dr. Neely Addison's doctor. He is good at what he does, and he cares for his patients as well. Addison was treated like a princess. She watched the Little Mermaid, got countless stickers, (a couple for Grant too!) got a mermaid toy, a pink maraca, had lots of yummy blue and violet juice and even a Popsicle. :)</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">RECOVERY:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She is doing great. She was singing on the way home, as usual. She was asking for Grant, and for Morgan. (Morgan, I am not sure if this is due to the pink maraca, or because I asked her if she wanted some breadsticks and cheese ;) Her eyes are very sensitive and bloodshot. They will remain quite red for up to a couple of weeks, but most of the discomfort will subside before that. She does not have any patches or bandaids of any sort, and the stitches will dissolve on their own. No medication other than Tylenol, including no drops (yea!) She is having double vision, which is completely normal for a day or two. How do we know? Well, she was cuddling in my lap during her recovery when she looked over at Kamran and said, "Two daddys??" Her doctor was impressed that she was able to communicate the point to us. But, that is our bright girl, now isn't it. :) She also has a bit of blood in her tears and a tiny bit from her nose. Also, she is pretty wobbly. This is a result of sedative, anesthesia, and eye readjustment. It should be better in a couple of days, but for now we are trying to get her to stay seated a little more. (Yeah right, she's 3! haha) Of course, her eyes are scratchy, but you wouldn't know it. She is acting as if nothing even happened! It may take up to 3 months for her eyes to readjusts to the position that they should be in. They said that she may have amnesia from the sedative, but on the way home she recounted most all of the days events to us. She is really something else. She may also be a little more tired than normal, although, at this point: NO. haha. As I type she is watching Aladdin, and happily playing with Daddy, Sassy, and Grant.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">GLASSES:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yes, Addison will still wear glasses. Her farsightedness is a separate issue. Although, in a month or two, Dr. Neely will most likely lessen the strength of her current prescription since her glasses will no longer be doing the job that her eye muscles are now capable of.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">CLOSING:</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There may be no "I" in team, but now there is a team within Addison's EYES! ;) Thank you all again. We will be out and about soon, and look forward to all of your hugs. Love, Brandi</span></span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-24546856345145403282009-12-17T10:51:00.000-08:002010-06-17T19:03:23.155-07:00Why should I doubt my arm?!?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8AoXHoU77ocN4ecuIGnWLguZOZdQFxMot544rnvLIRfApFK9u2OkilwCVJvCket8P84RiMydyz980tFbkbzB1_XfuUU0iLTtuffVOPYEQyLRmA2zgWkEFKUK7ve5ogNjuEgDJ8gGsw/s1600-h/P1090953.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8AoXHoU77ocN4ecuIGnWLguZOZdQFxMot544rnvLIRfApFK9u2OkilwCVJvCket8P84RiMydyz980tFbkbzB1_XfuUU0iLTtuffVOPYEQyLRmA2zgWkEFKUK7ve5ogNjuEgDJ8gGsw/s400/P1090953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416294761267054290" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Well, I guess that I will address the throwing soap to/at Rob Bell topic. Here goes....</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Friday night my husband, myself and another couple had a double date night. We drove to Indy to attend the Rob Bell Drops Like Stars tour. My husband had already purchased tickets online for the two of us, so our friends did not sit with us. They are glad, .....because I embarrassed them. :/ Sorry guys. Please don't disown me.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">I had already read the title book, and yes, I knew that the overall theme of the evening was "suffering", but that did not stop me from bringing along my crazy zany self.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Rob is a great speaker, and I consider him to have a pretty brilliant mind. He also, has a great sense of humor. I was counting on this "said humor" when my impulse created a "stunt".</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Let me do a little walk through of the evening for you....</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Early in the speech, Rob made reference to a very clever and creatively written college application. It was, HILARIOUS. Kudos to that guy. After reading the applicant's entry, Rob talked about the terms "in the box" & "outside the box" and he even went as far as saying that to people like the guy who filled out the application, the thought process is more like, "...There's a box?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ok</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">, fast forward a while. We were told by Rob to look under our seats to find bars of soap. That's right, soap. (He was preparing to do a visual that explained using the process of elimination to discover something inside.) So, he said something along the lines of "everyone needs a bar of soap". Well, we were in row "K". I'm not so sure just how far that is back, but it seemed reasonable to think that it was close enough.... and as people were chattering away and passing out bars of soap, I was thinking back, to myself, about the "in the box" "outside the box" "..there's a box" from earlier. Putting that into action, I realized that Rob was on our side of the stage, and that HE didn't have a bar of soap. He had said that EVERYONE needed a bar, hadn't he? </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hmmm</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">.... So, among the chattering, I shouted out "Hey Rob, need a bar?" He asked, "Do I need a bar, ha ha, no, I'm good, thanks." and laughed..... The next part is a little foggy, but I know that at some point he asked me if I thought that I could make it to him, and I was sure that I could. He told me to go for it, and so, yes, I threw a bar of soap over the heads of several rows of people to Rob Bell, on stage, during a speech about suffering. It hit the stage just short of him and skidded all the way to the back curtain. He laughed again and gave me a little bow........At this point his original demonstration continued.....</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Fast forward a </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">liiiittle</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> bit later. We were then told that there are index cards and pencils under our chairs for the next part.... Yes, I asked Rob if he wanted me to throw him a pencil as well. I am aware that this made me sound like an absolute lunatic. My way of thinking was that it would emphasize my humor and help me to look LESS like a crazy soap throwing person. You know, kind of smooth things over, so to speak. :/ Ugh....yeah. He made a comment about having protective eye wear & laughed. I told him that "I'm outside the box".</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">So, it was little more than 24 hours later that I saw something posted on the web about it. I read John Acuff's Stuff Christians Like blog. Ironically, his blog that day was asking people to submit questions for him to use in his upcoming interview with, none other than, you guessed it.... Mr. Rob Bell. There, about 2/3 of the way down on the comments section was an entry from a lady that asked what Rob was *really* thinking when the lady threw the bar of soap AT him on Friday night at Indy.... gulp. At him?!? It was TO him! Yikes! TO him!! :S It was also mentioned on his </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">facebook</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> page. :s</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Oh crap. I AM a crazy soap throwing person. Oh dear. And my friends had teased me too! It must have been awful.... really bad. Oh my.... Gasp!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Now I was headed in a downward spiral from "sort of silly" to wearing a straight jacket at the loony bin. I could just picture it: No more soap demonstrations the Drops Like Stars tour, because of my display.... Rob's wife saying to him, "honey, I think you should take a break from touring. Your critics are mean, and now people are trying to hit you with soap"... People calling me crazy on web pages.... My picture posted by the doors at the Murat & all other future Rob Bell tour stops with the words "PUBLIC MENACE: NO ADMITTANCE" below it.... My </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">facebook</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> friends all block me, and my Twitter followers plummet from the whopping 8 down to 2....I would never be asked to speak to a church group again, because we all know that soap throwing lunatics have no place in leadership of any kind..... and no one would ever read my well intended devotional type blogs again..... :O<br /><br />At this point flashbacks of the sign posted on the door came to me. The night was being taped for the Drops Like Stars video, and by attending, we gave consent to Rob Bell & company to use our image. Holy crap. Now I pictured the incident being played back in slow motion from the film. What's worse, we had even taken a picture of that post because we were bummed that we couldn't take our cameras inside. Yip, that's the pic that I posted at the start of the blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">I felt totally embarrassed and misunderstood. I felt like.... like </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Spongebob</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Squarepants</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">!</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Yes! That's it! I felt like </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Spongebob</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> in the episode when he rips his pants: He has a good joke going, and he thrives off of the laughter. Making people laugh is a fuel to him. Eventually, he plans the biggest laugh of them all, but it goes terribly terribly wrong. He pretends to drown, and everyone is appalled. Yip, that was me. Me & </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Spongebob</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">. That's the way we roll. We planned big, but didn't think things through.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Spongebob</span> reconciled with his friends through a beach style rock song..... I think that if I tried this with Rob Bell, that I may end up with a protective order against me, so I'm going to just hope that he took it as humor. He did laugh, and say "there's a box?" in response to me :) I hope that everyone else also found humor in this whole thing. I have to tell you that I thought that my pastor was going to literally fall off of his seat laughing when we talked about it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">I posted lighthearted responses on those web pages, and received a complimentary note in my inbox last night. Apparently, someone at the show besides just me and my husband did interpret it as intended. *BIG </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">siiiiigh</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> of relief. ;)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">*And just for the record, let it be known that the soap was thrown TO him, and not AT him. The man has enough critics out there without the people that find him insightful beating him up! ha ha</span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-60708540406941353942009-12-09T21:30:00.000-08:002010-06-17T19:04:37.555-07:00Holy cow! I'm a rockstar!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNWqnVPmDeVz6aJqvqeEt2B_y5RO36FsfysrBQr3aQEMLT20DFR12IjBYOOu1k1znjMLPTQmYcdN8jFSuAASQNrESowPG7Z24bAQ2emBxtNwd-9zyjHXLs5EAi_GGTlaMYIiPVBu68A/s1600-h/P1090946.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNWqnVPmDeVz6aJqvqeEt2B_y5RO36FsfysrBQr3aQEMLT20DFR12IjBYOOu1k1znjMLPTQmYcdN8jFSuAASQNrESowPG7Z24bAQ2emBxtNwd-9zyjHXLs5EAi_GGTlaMYIiPVBu68A/s400/P1090946.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413490287116646386" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">Or, I guess I could just be boring and say I feel awesome. Rock Stars probably don't feel AS awesome at times, in fact. Why? Because I did something today that I have never done in my life, and that I thought that I never would: I ran a mile.<br /><br />Yes, that's right. I have joined the Dark Side. (That picture is me, not the Unibomber.) I could give you a list a mile long to prove to you that it's a God thing. Instead, I would like to share with you what I have come through in just a very short time.<br /><br />I ran for the first time on November 25th. It was the following Sunday that I did it again after I confirmed my "accountability friend" aka, my trainer, aka my parole officer. :/ Anyway, since I spoke with her I haven't quit running. (except for the mandatory day off that she wisely requires me, which is once a week) Just call me Forrest, Forrest Gump.<br /><br />Since I started:<br />rain<br />optical migraine<br />snow<br />another headache<br />cramps (sorry guys)<br />ice<br />ouch, my knee hurts<br />colder, heavier rain<br />hey, now my other knee is stiff too :/<br />brrrrr! The windchill is killer! It's stinking coooold........ but I just ran a mile anyway!!!!!!<br /><br />I list these things not to sound whiny, but to say: WOW! I am so proud of myself. God has changed something inside of me. I know that it sounds kind of funny, since it has not been very long, but it's true. I felt His nudge into the unknown, and heck ~the unliked, and I am so glad that I was brave enough to listen. If you put all of the obstacles that I listed on one side of a scale, they really add up. However, if you put this scripture on the other side of that scale, there is really no comparison. </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">Philippians 4:13 </span><a style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);" href="http://connect.tangle.com/bible/ESV/Phil/4/13"><span id="Phil.4.13" class="verse hightlight" val="13">I can do ALL things through Him who strengthens me.</span></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"><br />Sure, you have probably heard that verse before, but think about that for a minute. It is well known for a reason. Take it's meaning deeper in your own situation. What seems unlikely to happen in your life? What thing have you counted out of your realm of possibility just because you didn't think it was "you"? Anyone who knows me can verify that my becoming a runner is, well,... shocking. Absolutely shocking. I used to make jokes. Here are a two: "I ran once....to 2nd base after I hit a double". "I tried running once, but the ice cubes kept falling out of my drink!" The truth is, I still hate it. I'm still pretty sure that it is from the devil. But, what I don't hate is how I feel right now..... or the second that I reach my front door, or when my son states, "Mommy, you were running." when I walk inside, or how my legs feel tighter already. And I really like how I feel knowing that this is God answering prayer for not just me, but for my husband as well. I owe more credit to his prayers on the subject than my own.<br /><br />I joined the Biggest Loser League and they ask for personal goals. Mine are: 1: To honor God with this body that He gave me, 2: To be a good example for my children now, so that they don't have to figure this out at my age, & 3: To work out regularly and be in shape like my awesome husband.<br /><br />I haven't really gone public with my "new me" yet. I have been back and forth on this blog topic for a few days, but a friend urged me to write it. I'm still an "in the closet" runner for the most part, and I don't claim for one second to have any of it figured out. I can tell you this though: Philippians 4:13 has proven to be true about running for me. In case you missed it, I ran a mile today! I didn't stop, and I didn't feel like I was going to die at the end either. It was less than 2 weeks ago that I could barely breathe after running for only 2 minutes. Yes, really.<br /><br />It wasn't that I thought that it was impossible for me to run, because I believe that everything is possible with God. My problem was my complacency. I didn't CARE if it was possible or not. Complacency is a scary thing. It's comparable to being lukewarm.<br /><br />Maybe it isn't an exercise issue for you. Maybe it's showing love to your family. Maybe it's fellowship. Maybe it's just being the blameless man or woman of God that He intends for you to be.... Whatever it is, be brave enough to trust Him. Care! </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">I love my family, and I intend to live for them, not slowly kill myself via neglect. </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">Don't dare live one more day outside of God's intentions. I seem to remember reading something about abundant life somewhere... hmmm........ ;) Well, one thing is for sure: My life just got a whoooole lot more abundant!<br /><br />*By the way, if you are one of my 5 blog readers, (haha) now would be a good time to "follow" my blog and show your support with encouraging comments. hee hee (click the "follow" button to the left side) Remember, I do still hate running, it's just that now, I know that it's going to be worth it.</span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-91981651466054318502009-12-01T07:48:00.000-08:002009-12-03T08:20:43.889-08:00Joseph..... like me?I have to say that the many years that I have enjoyed reading, studying, or hearing sermons or songs about the birth of Christ I never put a lot of thought into the Joseph part. Sure, a little, but not to the point of empathy. Not until a couple of years ago.<br /><br />I was sitting in our living room full of Christmas Spirit. The radio was on in the background, and I was staring at our new sleeping baby and smiling while rubbing my stomach at the thought of the baby within. It was an amazing thing that happened to us and I realized how blessed I was. That is when the DJ announced the next song as "Joseph's Lullaby" by Mercy Me. The song wasn't new, but I had never sat down and listened to the lyrics before. This time I did. Now, granted I was teaming with pregnancy hormones, and still high on new baby emotions as well, but still... It was a God moment for me. A very emotional one at that. <br /><br />If you aren't familiar with the lyrics to the song, let me fill you in. The title sort of says it all (obviously). The song is a lullaby to the newborn king from his earthly father Joseph. For the first time I sort of viewed Joseph as "a real person", or at least found something in common with him. He held this baby in his arms while his exhausted wife slept on straw. As he looked at the baby what must he have been thinking? I appreciate the view of the song writer. It gave me an image of Joseph as an adoptive parent with a huge task entrusted to him, and I honestly looked right over at the sleeping newborn in my living room and felt the same way. God chose and trusted Joseph to love and care for this baby and to bring Him up in a Godly home. To teach Him life skills and manors. to mold Him for His destiny. What a great responsibility! What an honor. In that moment I felt, almost "oneness" with Joseph. God had entrusted me with the same thing in that little girl who I had been chosen for. I no longer view Joseph as a kind man who followed God's command and supported Mary on her difficult journey. He was so much more. He was, for all human purposes, Jesus' father. I applaud Joseph & all others who adopt for being brave enough to listen when God chose him/them/YOU. <br /><br />May God find you sitting and listening to whatever He has to share with you this oh so busy Christmas season.<br /><br />I'm attaching the lyrics to the song and video below them, so you can listen as well.<br /><br />Joseph's Lullaby, Bart Millard, Mercy Me<br />Go to sleep my Son<br />This manger for your bed<br />You have a long road before You<br />Rest Your little head<br /><br />Can You feel the weight of Your glory?<br />Do You understand the price?<br />Does the Father guard Your heart for now<br />So You can sleep tonight?<br /><br />Go to sleep my Son<br />Go and chase Your dreams<br />This world can wait for one more moment<br />Go and sleep in peace<br /><br />I believe the glory of Heaven<br />Is lying in my arms tonight<br />Lord, I ask that He for just this moment<br />Simply be my child<br /><br />Go to sleep my Son<br />Baby, close Your eyes<br />Soon enough You'll save the day<br />But for now, dear Child of mine<br />Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight<br /><br /><object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PytP9XPhP1g&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PytP9XPhP1g&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275797963239663233.post-74927273604070847722009-11-17T21:09:00.000-08:002010-06-17T19:05:22.963-07:00He is jealous for me....<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Well, I'm in love with the latest DC*B single, How He Loves. (link to the left) The lyrics are, well, stunning. I was driving home from work one evening and spending some worship time when God stopped me to join in. (love that!) The lyrics of that song are so bold and deep, and of course, I knew it, which is why I had it on in the first place....but that night, The Holy Spirit stopped me with the very first phrase. "He is jealous for me" And for the first time I saw God's jealousy in a different way. Before my perception was of God standing beside me in every situation as the voice of reason, keeping me from making foolish mistakes, if I am willing to listen. It's as if He says something like this:"Brandi, you shouldn't watch that movie. It's language and sexuality are inappropriate, and you are mine. I'm jealous of the things that keep you from me". It isn't a legalistic thing, it's a "what's best for" me thing. Each situation is unique. Well, on the previously mentioned night God took the topic of His jealousy deeper. (He is sooo like that ;) ) All of a sudden I saw his jealousy as if He is a defender. A mighty warrior surrounding his beloved girl. And now I could practically hear it go something like this:"Get back worldly things. This is MY Brandi, and I will not give her to you". Because our amazing God, through His living Word, is multi-faceted. This is my simple minded interpretation. We know that we can not comprehend His actual greatness, and even attempting to could practically drive me mad! haha Nevertheless, He chose to open up this tiny bit of wisdom to me, and I wanted to share it. Have an amazing day.</span>iam4iamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18220996203819897667noreply@blogger.com1