tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80976591704547327862024-03-13T09:51:59.498-07:00The View From HereSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-45360788146608995472011-08-09T12:30:00.000-07:002011-08-09T12:30:38.886-07:00Gardening Lessons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVWxc9lYHuJCawnxlreztRbEkMYQhvYfdlHUmJOQyEb-GHgjVQUjM-M8znvJ3Ai3izozYhK7GdXRwFgCQHDkz7zlGjRQ7dKp-scgKJ_3Mz3nFhyphenhyphenI58M6wt21i8s6PgeYGeUJ3Tw0qOhs/s1600/DSCN4082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVWxc9lYHuJCawnxlreztRbEkMYQhvYfdlHUmJOQyEb-GHgjVQUjM-M8znvJ3Ai3izozYhK7GdXRwFgCQHDkz7zlGjRQ7dKp-scgKJ_3Mz3nFhyphenhyphenI58M6wt21i8s6PgeYGeUJ3Tw0qOhs/s320/DSCN4082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Childhood memories of corn stalks towering above me in my parents' backyard garden in New York, and rows of glass jars of home canned fruits and vegetables stirred a little bit of hope in me about tending a small garden in our suburban Florida yard (tropical south gardening zone.<br />
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I'd made one try at growing tomatoes in our sand back yard when our boys were young, and that dismal experience along with a very full schedule had pushed home gardening totally off my radar until recently.<br />
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My daughters-in-law have enriched my life with so many joys and new experiences and "the garden experiement" this year came about largely because of the two of them. Michelle has been nurturing an interest in modified suburban "homesteading", and Amber has shared wonderful memories of gardening with her grandmother as a child and eating the bounty from her families' gardens all summer long. A garden at Grandma's house would give each of them another experience to share with their kids.<br />
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I dipped my toes in last summer with a couple pots of basil. That went well. I used the basil in cooking, made a couple batches of pesto, but mostly enjoyed glimpsing flourishing pots of herbs from my windows. Kyle made me a compost pile enclosure and I faithfully added and turned it all year. I found fruit and vegetable plants sprouting in the compost and started saving seeds when I chopped up our veggies.<br />
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After a month or two of skimming through a square foot gardening book and listening to pre-school grandchildren urging me forward - "When are you going to get chickens , Grandma?" and "You <i>DO</i> have room for a cow in your backyard, Grandma"- any vestiges of self-restraint departed when I passed easily assembled gardening boxes and seed collections for sale in Sam's Club. <br />
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I ordered a couple huge bags of vermiculite from a local garden center, added peat moss and cow manure to my compost and vermiculite, assembled my garden boxes (recycled plastic) and planted seeds with my grandchildren. Trips to garden centers for more "supplies" meant I also came home with more seeds - "Sunflowers for the grandchildren!... I should have planted lettuce - ohh, they have heirloom varieties!", starter plants - "ummm, rosemary and mint and ... pineapple sage?...I wonder..." <br />
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We've been in the middle of helping to build Kyle and Michelle's house every weekend (and plenty of other days) and common sense was shouting "RESTRAIN YOURSELF" so I told myself "no grand goals for this season's garden other than to water it, learn from it, and hope to harvest SOMETHING.<br />
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It has been enjoyable. Except for the mosquito bites I get every single time I "tend" the garden for 60 seconds or longer, if I'm not covered head to toe in clothing or repellant. <br />
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I was able to harvest at least a tiny bit of tomatoes, green peppers, yellow squash, jalapeƱo peppers, eggplant, and bush beans. I forgot to pull the onions. <br />
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Tomatillos are ready to pick now and I have used some of all my herbs: basil, rosemary, oregano, mint and pineapple sage. <br />
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The critters got all of the cucumbers and most of the tomatoes.<br />
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A couple things I've learned from my Gardening 101 course:<br />
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1. "Mel's Mix" is good stuff. It's made of equal parts vermiculite (coarse, if you can get it), compost (5 different sources, if you can manage) and peat. My mix ended up being a 4 part mix with purchased "garden soil" as the fourth part, since I didn't have the book to refer to on planting day. This mix is crumbly not clumpy - it holds water and plants well and supposedly I will only need to replenish the compost each season. <br />
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2. Tomatoes eaten within minutes of picking from your own garden really do taste way better than store bought, and tomato plants really do need supports to lean against. <br />
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3. Beautiful flowers on some of the vegetable plants can compensate somewhat for small veggie yields.<br />
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3. Small critters and bugs REALLY love tender veggies. Getting my harvest before the critters do is definitely going to be the biggest challenge I'll face. More research is in order.<br />
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In tropical south Florida we have spring and fall gardens as summer is just too much sun and heat. I hope to plant some cabbage, broccoli and a few other fall crops. Next spring planting I hope to make a vertical support as described in Square Foot Gardening and train some of the plants to grow vertically for better air circulation, and hopefully less pest feeding and more more people feeding.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-14364226325027655772011-08-05T05:19:00.000-07:002011-08-06T14:16:58.032-07:00Bungalow Heaven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEi4-9hgfMC89BmwK7sJyc1U5Bc5_E_xgAIQglsPvHkSn8_WyC-tbfBaekWEjvf4olJ8W9nY0dyRN4GzbbFAk7LCgI8u4PWiqKchLPekL77-q76Jhd8vaLYSMBYO47YGcWpNGa44SrFuw/s1600/DSCN4373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEi4-9hgfMC89BmwK7sJyc1U5Bc5_E_xgAIQglsPvHkSn8_WyC-tbfBaekWEjvf4olJ8W9nY0dyRN4GzbbFAk7LCgI8u4PWiqKchLPekL77-q76Jhd8vaLYSMBYO47YGcWpNGa44SrFuw/s400/DSCN4373.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Funny how things work out sometimes. It's been a crazy busy time as we've been helping our firstborn son and his wife build their new house and get their existing house ready to sell, hoping it would sell by the time we were done with the new house. As it turned out, the old house sold before we were done with the new one, and so son, wife, and 3 kids moved in with us for the time being. <br />
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We lived together before for a few months 6 years ago when grandchild #1 was a newborn....when we didn't also have a young woman living with us....who had just returned from her summer vacation. We all get along pretty well, but husband and son also work together all day 5 or more days of the week, and what young American mother wants to share tight spaces with her mother-in-law 24/7? <br />
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Enter the bungalow heaven. Sam and Amber graciously offered to share their restored bungalow in the city with us for for a bit, to give us all a little more space. So I am taking a break from our busy pace and enjoying quiet evening meals with my husband (no TV-hooray!) and slow starting mornings with coffee and computer (in spite of a couple disagreements with the coffee maker) in a beautiful old home in an area filled with restored craftsman and bungalow houses, with front porches aplenty on quiet streets lined with mature oaks. (For regular readers of <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/">Amber's Blog</a>, the homes pictured are typical examples of the scenery, not the Samber home.)<br />
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I marvel that I can walk or ride my bike a short distance through these relatively quiet neighborhoods for restaurants or groceries or banking or library, pedal to downtown museums, a local university, or along the gorgeous 3.5-4 mile bayshore boulevard overlooking the bay for walking/biking. <br />
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I've lived in this area for most of my life, but because I live and work across the bay, I haven't made time to explore the city much for history and culture and fun activities. I'm usually driving through or stopping only at contractor's offices or government buildings, or the Samber house. But this week I discovered opportunities for a group bike ride featuring city restaurants and a walking historical tour of Ybor City, both of which made my "fun things I'd like to do" list.<br />
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I've watched fish jumping in series and shore birds fishing with the downtown skyline and harbour shipping yards for a background. I found the locations (previously unknown to me) of two great photos by Amber, posted to her <a href="http://http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2011/06/warm-tampa-welcome-to-zander.html">blog</a> (note the difference between her shot and mine :-), and I hope to find <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/p/few-photos-by-me.html">another</a> (the chain and tank) in my meanderings. <br />
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I watched a rider in training coax her horse through some jumps at a stable just steps from the water's edge of the bay. I ate a gyro and overheard a t-shirt and jean clad couple at the table next to me discuss their potential partnership, marketing strategy and profit, with the slowly dawning realization that their business was prostitution for out-of-town clientele willing to spend BIG bucks for a "high-class" "model". wow. what a person can do in the city. <br />
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Tomorrow will have to be a heavier work day to make up for what I have NOT accomplished these past two days, but I definitely do not regret taking time to enjoy this bit of bungalow heaven.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-49718812346879631392011-04-04T15:18:00.000-07:002011-04-04T15:18:07.721-07:00The Happy Discipline<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a><br />
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Our desktop computer (with all my photos) has been paralyzed since the heavy storm that moved through our area last Thursday, but hopefully, soon, I'll have it back, with all bits fully restored and accessible. My body is reluctant to fully cooperate with my ambitious to-do list today, but at least I can post thank you's from the sofa with a borrowed laptop...<br />
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I am grateful for:<br />
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246. the almost four-year old's enthusiastic rendition of "Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho" (with much repetition of "Jericho, Jericho, Jericho, Jericho, Jericho, Jericho...etc.) throughout the day<br />
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247. the same child saying, "Listen to me hum, Dama" (imagine the same tune, hummed with great emphasis)<br />
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248. happy celebration of grandson's first birthday...a year of vibrant health and development and engaging personality <br />
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249. simple, joyful decorations from creative daughter-in-law, which I could adapt and copy for other grandchildren's birthday celebrations - all four birthdays fall within a 5 week time period.<br />
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250. sons and daughters-in-law who have been so gracious and generous in inviting us to be a part of their children's lives<br />
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251. getting to know Amy, who has lived with us for about 10 months now. She enriches us with her laughter and with skills, gifts, personal history and perspectives that differ from ours.<br />
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252. Prema's self-occupied, quiet deportment at the library<br />
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253. that our grandsons love books and stories so much<br />
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254. the "nesting tree" during nesting season at the <a href="www.seabirdsanctuary.com">Suncoast Seabird Sanctuary</a> - although standing directly below it can be a messy affair, the sheer number of nests with attending parents in one tree is pretty amazing<br />
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255. Prema shooing a bird off the "people path" at the sanctuary, while signing "wrong" <br />
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256. fluffy, grayish-white baby pelicans on their nests (the one time I don't take my camera!)<br />
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257. young women with busy lives, "baby bumps" and laughing children, reminding me of those chaotic years filled with so much energy and purpose, seeking healthy friendship and growth in the practice of intentional gratitude <br />
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258. those same women modeling good listening and balanced participation for this older woman, so in need of practice in humble listening <br />
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260. delicious left-over taco salad at the Samber house<br />
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261. home-made chocolate chip cookies and mmmm good coffee<br />
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262. Sam sharing his protein shake that included romaine and blueberries...light and surprisingly tasty! (I have not liked the taste of any shakes or smoothees I've made that have included green veggies - and I love most green veggies) <br />
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263. Front row seat for a dramatic electric storm, in my car, on the Howard Frankland, above the middle of the bay<br />
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264. that the large oak limb, torn from a tree in our yard during the high winds the next day, did not hit our house or my car <br />
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265. neighbor and helper who were sawing it into manageable chunks and throwing it on their trailer to haul off before I was even aware that it filled my driveway<br />
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266. windows surrounding me at home, providing theatre to the incredible energy and rains of the storm<br />
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267. that our desktop mac did not fully fry in the multiple power surges and drops<br />
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268. that we have a wonderful mac repair company across the bay<br />
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269. that we did not lose electrical power and I was able to keep sewing birthday projects<br />
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270. for birthday secrets, arriving by mail, and coming to life by our hands, and the happy anticipation of Isaac's enjoyment of all of them<br />
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271. the joy of finding and giving simple gifts that are in sync with an un-spoiled, creative child's development and play interests<br />
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272. family fun with water balloons <br />
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273. readily available, affordable gasoline<br />
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274. another weekend of cooler, dryer, WONDERFUL weather for painting, electrical installation, and clean-up at the new house<br />
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275. Prema's continued excitement/enjoyment over wearing her birthday Mary Jane shoesSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-12544646885327954632011-03-21T07:48:00.000-07:002011-03-22T10:56:32.632-07:00Nails of Gratitude<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience"/></a></center><br />
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I raced through my first reading of Ann Voskamp's <u>One Thousand Gifts</u>, gulping it down, feeling the sharp pierce of pain that shattered hearts and dulled lives into numb existence, and nodding in agreement, through mouthfuls of words, at the discovery and practice of the life-giving, life-sustaining discipline of gratitude expressed with such aching beauty.<br />
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I am reading it slowly this second time, reading, re-reading lines, paragraphs, quotes; copying portions into my journal, thinking about the difference that the deliberate, frequent practice of gratitude has had at various points in my own life. I am also trying, once again, to be more deliberate about <i>writing</i> down some of the "small" gifts I notice and receive each day, pounding nails of gratitude to displace nails of accusation and scorn.<br />
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A few thank you's from my journal this past month:<br />
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203. quiet comraderie with sister and mother<br />
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204. buckwheat crepes filled with ratatouille<br />
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205. in tiny french restaurant, with dark wood walls and bottles<br />
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206. and open door that embraces sun drenched sidewalk and small shops<br />
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207. creeping in traffic past famous shopping circle with car show I had once imagined as a "possible weekend getaway" and realizing the stress the crowds and traffic would have caused us and the utter disappointment I would have struggled with at the unfulfillment of expectation of joy, had we made that excursion<br />
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208. passing many singles, couples, and families on the bike trails of this Gulf coast island<br />
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209. serendipitous happening upon weekend art show with travellers who want to "stop and take a look"<br />
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210. moments of reading stretched on pool deck lounge chair with bright music filling my ears<br />
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211. tiny, eager hands choosing packet of flower seeds to plant<br />
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212. same hands "needing" Grandpa's hammer to pound post on brick patio<br />
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213. scaffolding set up by the stucco crew and loaned to son for us to use for remainder of the rental month, giving us access to the second story roofline trim, soffit and walls to paint before the roofers install edging<br />
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214. Eli's enthusiasm for filling the fountain and mixing peat moss, vermiculite, and compost<br />
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215. Isaac's excitement over planting the seeds<br />
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216. morning songs of birds, calling to day<br />
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217. Eli, just shy of 4, swinging, laughing, "Look, Grandma! My shadow is following me!...Why is it following me?"<br />
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218. lightning flashing in black of early morning<br />
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219. doors open to all the sounds of first waterfalls, then fountains of rain from the roof and gutters, which eventually slow to a quiet drip and a whisper rain, and the birds begin their morning songs<br />
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220. the prized possession of berry stained face, tongue and fingers<br />
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<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-9182452892508544872010-12-31T06:37:00.000-08:002010-12-31T06:37:07.688-08:00Long Loved Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Our son and his wife left a "Happy Anniversary voice message the other day when they couldn't reach me in person. I laughed when I heard the smile in his voice and a laugh from his wife at his side: "We're glad you're still married."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So am I.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">During the first decade or two of our marriage when many thunderstorms of conflict seared our souls with pain, David and I frequently reminded ourselves that we had meant our vows of lifetime commitment to each other, and we would not consider divorce as a viable option of "solving" our problems. At one point we even agreed not to wield it as a verbal weapon in our fights - just as we promised not to storm off angry or hurt in a motorized vehicle, setting ourselves up for vehicular manslaughter or suicide. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There were a few occasions when each thought the other so disgusted or disappointed on multiple relationship fronts that we wondered aloud if our partner desired divorce ; but always, upon further reflection, the answer was "no - divorce would make more problems than it would solve."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We have been married long enough now for each to have gone through some pretty devastating dashing of hopes, desires and expectations in our relationship. We have each had, at different times, to very deliberately <i>choose</i> to find ways to live with, love, respect and support each other in the face of (still!) unyielding differences of values, motivations, and goals. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I look back now, I see the first twenty years of our union as necessary training to strengthen our "humilty muscles" to prepare us for complete exposure within the transparency of our relationship. We needed the humility practice to be willing to allow the skin of self-protective reasoning to be pulled back, to see the tentacles of SELF beneath so many actions and motives we had previously labelled pure. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It has been our attempts these past 15 years or so to know, communicate and reconcile the deep, unyielding differences between us that have really stripped the scales from our eyes to see our "SELF" motivations and agendas, to empathetically </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">feel</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, not simply know, just how much we have unintentionally wounded the other - simply by being ourselves, by pursuing our goals, powered by our differing pasts, values, sin patterns, and ego drives.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This truth-telling and stripping, painful as it has been, is one of the treasures to me of our long-term relationship. Like Eustace's experience in C.S. Lewis' </span></span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Voyage of the Dawn Treader</span></span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, it has taken Another, with better eyesight, sharper claws, and a willingness to tear deep to the diseased underlayers, to uncover and strip us of our deepest layers of SELF. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm not saying that the process is done. Only that the divine claws within the paws of our mate have done what we, by ourself, cannot do, even with the best intentions and disciplines. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQANKkGn5_hJBaYmPHH6LoBfWtXbKnIb5H2alrSVRkkGrvEaWMgzfSvQw9-2sPx0Gy5gqcu_52ycv6bmKL4gZtNDuYCqJz5fvhJBgfSW2uhZzsHOyOTkcXQnerZPsN7-FQ5aIJgrN4fA/s1600/sc0005baf6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQANKkGn5_hJBaYmPHH6LoBfWtXbKnIb5H2alrSVRkkGrvEaWMgzfSvQw9-2sPx0Gy5gqcu_52ycv6bmKL4gZtNDuYCqJz5fvhJBgfSW2uhZzsHOyOTkcXQnerZPsN7-FQ5aIJgrN4fA/s400/sc0005baf6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-70686689249000168482010-12-27T15:41:00.000-08:002010-12-27T15:41:11.692-08:00Working Man<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><center><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">On this Multitude Monday I give thanks for David, my husband of 35 years, as provider. </center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">Thank you, David, for working so diligently to provide so well for me, our children, and our grandchildren over all our years together. I am grateful that you are a man who sees the opportunity to work hard to provide for your family as a blessing and that you simply love to work.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">Thank you for being willing to leave the house in the dark of morning all these years of our marriage, to work long days, and then come home to love and play with your family.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful that you've been willing to dream, push forward and take calculated risks that have enabled our business to grow and provide for many.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">I'm also very grateful for your integrity. I've seen you tell the truth and do what was right, even when it was costly, time and time again. </center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">I thank God for the care and compassion you have for the employees (and their families!) who have worked alongside us in the business.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">I greatly appreciate your humility in apologizing to me, you sons, and your employees when you have realized your "bad behavior" toward of us. So many people refuse to humble themselves publicly when they have been wrong - what a gift to have a strong husband who nevertheless humbles himself before a child, a wife, an employee, a contractor. Thank you.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
</center><center style="text-align: left;">Thank you for trusting God to provide work and payment and wisdom during some very challenging seasons of our company.</center><center style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</center>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-82894395196612077802010-12-19T18:29:00.000-08:002010-12-23T05:16:10.723-08:00Advent Wait<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08VUYhAiJm8AeAAi2hsFYlkE_ssOLgDTyemKFCij-cFZdjyf5qkuBqfdtiaiXneqhi23_65Vuz91JWEGMm7bTx8bY1H9xyG2pkT2bJb6XUdsnBYlB3-USTRhPDXcSdryAP5tbU2xgevY/s1600/DSCN2390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08VUYhAiJm8AeAAi2hsFYlkE_ssOLgDTyemKFCij-cFZdjyf5qkuBqfdtiaiXneqhi23_65Vuz91JWEGMm7bTx8bY1H9xyG2pkT2bJb6XUdsnBYlB3-USTRhPDXcSdryAP5tbU2xgevY/s400/DSCN2390.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
One of the first ASL (American Sign Language) signs I learned after Michelle and Kyle brought Prema from Kolkata, India into their home was <i>"wait"</i> - both hands extended, palm up, with all the fingers waving, like an upside down movement on a computer or piano keyboard. Prema had NO symbolic language and I had very few ASL signs at my command, so I used it a lot in all my interactions with her those first few months.<br />
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<i>Venir: to come. Advent: 1. an arrival; a start or commencement 2.a. (usu cap), the coming of Christ into the world 2.b. (cap) the penitential season beginning four Sundays before Christmas</i><br />
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It's a season of waiting, looking forward to a Coming. We celebrate the waiting with candles and colors, with words and song, with groaning hearts that strain to see.<br />
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Last Sunday evening, I sat with Eli on my lap and Prema at my side at FBCIR's Christmas program, listening to Grandpa David play his trombone with the orchestra and enjoying all the choral groups and ensembles. We try to take advantage of local programs that have a chance of communicating Biblical stories visually in the forms of nativity tableaus and re-enactments as well as great music, because Prema's world, even at Christmas time, with all its boisterous activity and noise, is silent. <br />
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We sit up front, directly in front of the interpreters for the deaf, close to the manger and hay, three year old Eli looking and listening intently to everything, eleven year old Prema watching with wandering attention the interpreters, the changes in spotlights and choral ensembles.<br />
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I watch my grand-daughter move in and out of attentiveness, think about the scarcity of visual story for her in this sound-focused performance and wonder how she will ever understand God's story and offer of life and love for her: <i>How can she know the choice You give her to know you, God? Her ability and motivation to take in and learn are so scant, her language so limited .... Kyle and Michelle have, with much purpose and pain, been living a daily definition of love for her this side of the veil....but having once been abandoned by love, can she know it now? </i><i>Will she recognize it and draw near when she sees in it You?</i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."</span><br />
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The music is wonderful, the narrative thread simple and cohesive. Delight sits on my left with Eli, while Sorrow, mourning Prema's loss and alone-ness, squeezes in on my right.<br />
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Children skip down the long aisles waving circlets of streamers, banners of "light" call forth joy.... I love it......but I am waiting for the drummers. <br />
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David had informed me earlier that my favorite part of last year's program would be repeated: a drum corps regiment, pulled from various local high schools marching bands, spread out in the aisles of the mega church sanctuary, each drummer standing erect in uniform with a spread of drums hanging from his shoulders, waiting for the "Drummer Boy" soloist to finish, awaiting the haunting choral descant, "I'll play for you.....play my drum for you". <br />
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The sound explodes in the air as sticks hit drum rims, skins and sides, clacking, pounding, reverberating, piercing the night. We thousands of listeners almost collectively hold our breaths as we experience the cadence performed by the drummers around us, among us. The sound fills our ears, our bodies, our souls. I turn away from the drummer four feet to my left to look at Prema on my right to guage from her reactions if she can feel <i>any</i> vibration from the engulfing sound. No. She does not.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him....Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God..."</span><br />
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<i>You became man for me, but what will You do for her? How can she receive You? How can she understand and believe in Your name? Will You take her in Your arms at her passing from earth, open her ears with the breath of Your whisper? Put language and understanding into her being? Will you beat a cadence that envelops, enchants, enflames HER with knowing? Will You? Will You?</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The drumming continues, drummers' bodies erect, hands flashing, pounding rhythm. My lap still holds and my arms still surround Eli, but my body is shaking with sobs that no one hears over the sound of the drums and tears are coursing down my face. "I'll play for you....play my drum for you..."<br />
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<i>This is the joy, the purpose held out to us.... to play for You, to offer our best, to live Your love day after day, in desire and discipline, in dream and despair, in delight and drudgery...while we wait. Wait for the day when eyes and ears will be opened. Wait for the day when WORD will be known. Wait. With arms outstretched, palms turned up, fingers moving. Wait. While all creation groans. </i><br />
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<i>Wait and watch, </i><br />
<i>groan and hope. </i><br />
<i>for God to become baby, </i><br />
<i>baby, </i><br />
<i>slaughtered Lamb, </i><br />
<i>Lamb, </i><br />
<i>triumphant Lion.</i><br />
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I do not want the drumming to stop. I want to bury my groaning and hope in the crack of the sticks, in the flash of the hands, hide in the beat, hide in the sound.<br />
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The drumming stops. Silence reigns. Then with collective breath we shout and cheer.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So we wait. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We trudge with bags heavy </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with groaning and hope </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to the top of the hill </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the dark of night </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for a glimpse of a star, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a stable, a babe,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to remind us LOVE hears, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">LOVE knows, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and LOVE, also, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">waits.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emmanuel. God with us.</span><br />
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<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-25749931864232622042010-11-22T19:11:00.000-08:002010-11-22T19:11:13.121-08:00What I Really Want For Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdLThtIJHGULct36ImtpueLlh9hCK1iOSV3xoEWIZZZLwyLnbcqn_t6KwUuS0Rc7v01_pv31xuUbCzhe91MkxlZCyStIVmGDzFPvSYLlsIYPQugSnxw867B6SjMUmS4LcZBLUz_uI59g/s1600/DSCN0193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdLThtIJHGULct36ImtpueLlh9hCK1iOSV3xoEWIZZZLwyLnbcqn_t6KwUuS0Rc7v01_pv31xuUbCzhe91MkxlZCyStIVmGDzFPvSYLlsIYPQugSnxw867B6SjMUmS4LcZBLUz_uI59g/s400/DSCN0193.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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Very soon I will need to answer the "what do you want for Christmas?" question. Hmm....<br />
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What I would <i>REALLY </i>like for Christmas, if someone could give it to me, would be the gift of being a good listener.<br />
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This morning when I pulled up in her driveway to take my granddaughter to school, my daughter-in-law greeted me with a smile, "There's no school today.....remember.... I told you last week." I remembered the conversation, but I had been so focused on the piece that was the answer to my immediate question, that I did not take in or remember the other school schedule details she had given me. <br />
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At least twice within the last week, my husband has brought to my attention something he told me earlier of which I claimed no awareness. I could remember one of them after he jogged my memory with particulars of the conversation, but the other two were lost somewhere in non-listening or non-hearing land.<br />
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To some charges of not listening, I can protest "But I can't hear you when you talk to me from the other room or while you're walking away from me or while I'm working in the kitchen next to running water or appliances - you know I can't hear you over those noises." Because those things are all true. I do have some hearing loss, and I have great difficulty discerning conversation correctly in a crowded room with much ambient noise.<br />
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But it is also true that I often don't pay enough attention when someone speaks to me. I don't zone in to his/her words soon enough or stay focused long enough. I am all too often a lazy listener, moving my focus, without my notice, between the speaker and my thoughts. I am always thinking, reasoning, figuring something out, connecting ideas. That can be a good characteristic, but it can also be a major impediment to effective listening.<br />
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I remember seeing a picture definition of the character trait of "attentive" when our boys were young: a line drawing of two children in a small tent, with alert eyes and cocked ears, listening, listening to a coyote howling at the moon. I've spent decades learning to listen to God.....but how much real practice have I given to the discipline of listening well to His people?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I've wanted to be, tried to be a better people listener for a number of years now....to be able to routinely give whoever is speaking to me the gift of my full attention. But honestly, some days I don't think I've made any progress.<br />
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Perhaps carrying pen and paper to write details of what others say to me would help me focus - I usually took superlative notes during class lectures and sermons in church. Perhaps I should ask my family members to give me pop quizzes on what they've said to me - maybe repeated poor grades would motivate me. Perhaps someone else has an idea that can help me learn this discipline. Because I'm pretty sure its not a gift I'll find under my tree this Christmas.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-76008272451588391102010-11-15T10:52:00.000-08:002010-11-15T10:56:44.753-08:00Character Mirrors on Multitude Monday<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A brief conversation with my husband got me thinking about how grateful I am for some of the "Character Mirrors" in my life. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A "character mirror" to me is any person who or circumstance that holds up a mirror to me, so I have the opportunity to see what I look like to them (and very possibly to God, also :-). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been a bit slow and resistant at times to pay attention to those mirrors, especially when the the people who held those mirrors were people whose actions and life choices I didn't respect, or whose messages were delivered in ways that seemed harsh or hurtful to me. My loss - I've learned that valuable critiques can come from those character mirrors, too, if I will humble myself and turn my head to gaze into their mirror, then look inside myself and to God for confirmation, clarification and correction.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I thought I'd post and give thanks for a few of the memorable "character mirrors" from my life thus far for my Multitude Monday gratitude exercise:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. A high school friend who rebuked me sharply for telling someone else something he had told me in confidence. That was my adult introduction to the importance of guarding confidences - something that was an absolute basic requirement for the prayer and mentoring work I would do decades later.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> A young mother who slammed me openly in a small group of women for leading a Bible study and NOT controlling/disciplining my young sons in the other room to her satisfaction. I learned I would not be allowed to influence others the way I wanted, if I did not have their respect. A KEY principle I needed to learn.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. How I <i>wish</i> I had taken a good hard look when my brother-in-law first told me I was a know-it-all at the family dinner table.....was he ever correct!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Luckily, for me, I DID pay attention when he told me, years later, that I always had to be RIGHT (in any disputed matter). That comment pierced my pride and became God's surgical knife that opened an infected area of my past for careful examination, my choice to forgive, and huge healing to my psyche, which I had been praying about for years. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. A car trip, during which, my husband and sons listened to me rant about a relative, then told me my reactions were quite out-of-proportion to the "offense" she had committed. I initially strongly denied it, but had the sense later to look long enough in the mirror they held up and to choose to "step back" and "jet down" from my anger. Not until much later did I realize I had made a scapegoat of the person I'd been so angry with to avoid confronting the woman I was really angry with and risk a close relationship being destroyed. That SELF-DECEPTION was so powerful and effective, that it has slowed me down in "pronouncing judgement" many times since then.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got many others, but you get the idea....:-)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think listing more of these people mirrors as well as circumstance character mirrors would be a fruitful thanksgiving discipline for me. How about you?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(This picture was originally for a post idea that was to be titled "What person, in their right mind, would pay good money for these?" The rhetorical answer was SO obvious...... why waste time writing it? </span><br />
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</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-76068118792690813532010-10-24T12:22:00.000-07:002010-10-24T12:22:56.563-07:00Friends<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
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<a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"> Amber</a> asked us recently to tell the story of an answered prayer. You can read her story and 6 others <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/10/journey-of-faith-friday-answered-prayer.html">here</a>. I'm late, but I figured I'd tell my story anyway.<br />
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A couple years ago I came across a piece of notebook paper on which I had written a prayer for our sons who are now 30 and almost 32 years old. I believe I wrote out the scripture prayer when they were about 9-13 years old. <br />
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"Best of friends, worst of enemies" flew off my tongue many times when Kyle and Sam were young boys as my answer to people who would ask about how they got along with each other. They played great together for hours every day, but when they disagreed, they could, with amazing speed, employ shoves and punches to make their point. One of them, in particular, never considered an argument won when the other one said, "I give up - you win". The argument is not over until the one giving up declares full acknowledgement that the victor's argument was TRUE and RIGHT!<br />
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My husband, David, has often told how a dispute during a family game of Rack-0 quickly became a boxing match, with the two boys "standing toe to toe, slugging each other". In addition to a multitude of baseball games and practice sessions at home, our family played a lot of basketball on the front driveway and many games involved bodies slamming into bushes, or the garage wall or to the concrete driveway as a result of self-control gone awol - "FOUL!" I often feared we would be making a trip to the hospital emergency room. <div><br />
</div><div>When David tried to reassure me that our sons' highly competitive personalities would help them succeed in our very competitive society, I pleaded for him to structure family games so our sons had to work together on the same team, instead of against each other. I feared broken hearts more than I feared broken bones. As the boys got older, I worried that the frequent conflict "resolved" in such physical fashion would result in unforgiveness that lodged in our sons' souls, destroying their friendship, and infecting all of their relationships with bitterness.<br />
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So, at some point during their late elementary and middle school years I began to pray that kindness, compassion, and forgiveness would reign in their relationship. I took a passage from Ephesians 4, along with some other passages and prayed that they would use their tongues to encourage and build one another up, that they would get rid of bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, and slander, and that they would be "kind and compassionate, forgiving one another, just as in Christ, God forgave them." I prayed that God would give them a great love and appreciation for each other. For a season, I prayed that prayer every day.<br />
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Gradually that prayer got replaced by others, and one day when they were in high school, I came across that old "scripture prayer" in my handwriting, with blanks to insert my sons names, tucked away in a journal or book. I didn't remember exactly WHEN that prayer had been answered...I knew only that our sons seemed to fully enjoy and prefer each other's company, respect each other's wisdom, and root for one another's success. Somehow, miraculously, they had been able to forgive the many offenses against each other. They played together on the same high school baseball team, and ended up, eventually at the same college for a year, playing baseball together there also. <br />
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Their friendship deepened far beyond the simple thoughts I had when I began praying. I know they have a friend in their brother that many men long for, and one of my greatest joys is watching them together, whether playing with the children, discussing issues and ideas, or engaging in the raucous humor for which they are known. <br />
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A week ago, I tagged along on a brief car trip peppered with laughs and practical jokes, as the two of them drove to the start location of "The Hilly Hundred" - a group bike ride over a course that wound its way for a hundred hilly miles. They took off together in the early morning light and pedaled back into the parking lot, hours later, still together, still talking and making jokes. It was a great day.</div></div><div><br />
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</div></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-81018167613463587192010-10-18T16:30:00.000-07:002010-10-18T16:30:55.235-07:00To Be Understood<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
<br />
On this "Multitude Monday" I give thanks to God for the "simple" gift of being understood in basic, everyday conversation with those around me.<br />
<br />
My granddaughter is deaf. Which wouldn't be as huge a hinderance to our communication with each other if she had been born into our family. She would likely have had otherwise good health and a lively intelligence as do our three grandsons - an inheritance that comes "naturally" to children born to dedicated, nurturing parents with the circumstances, resources and will to provide superior nutrition for body, mind and spirit. Her deafness wouldn't be as huge a hinderance to our communication if she had entered our family as an infant, because our daughter-in-law and son would have taught her symbol and language from the knowledge of her deafness.<br />
<br />
But instead, she entered our family as a child alone, an "unaccompanied minor" from the streets of Kolkata (Calcutta) India. Some women who lived with their children on the streets knew our son and our daughter-in-law as people who cared about them and their children's well-being, people who would care about the child wandering the streets alone, and who would - because they were Americans and of course wealthy beyond imagination - find the little girl and do something. <br />
<br />
Our son and his wife did search for the girl and find her. She was obviously deaf and obviously alone. She climbed onto my daughter-in-law's lap and fell asleep - a harbinger of other troubles which neither they nor we had knowledge to see. They took her to some trusted others where they knew she would be safe and eventually oversaw her placement into one, then another orphanage, while they talked and prayed and decided to seek adoption to bring her into their family. If the adoption went through she would be their second child. Their first child, a delightful, well-loved son, who would bring the hope and reality of laughter into their lives after the darkness of Kolkata, was already in the womb, growing in darkness.<br />
<br />
This "unaccompanied minor" came into our lives 14 months after the birth of the healthy and charming firstborn son, and with her came much chaos and anger and heartbreak. Within six months we all became too familiar with the hope-strangling enormity of attempting to parent a child with reactive attachment disorder (RAD). Terms like "childhood trauma", "deprivation", and "safety" filled our conversations and this child's new parents, who had already spent an inheritance to bring her into their family, faced mounting financial drain and emotional bankruptcy as they faced one problem after another, rising to the surface like bubbles in carbonated water that is being continually poured out - a seemingly unending litany of problems which forced major adjustments to our concept of "normal family life".<br />
<br />
Perhaps one of the most frustrating aspects of trying to nurture and train and help heal this emotionally traumatized child was the challenge her deafness added to the mix. We often did not know, could not tell, through much of the next three years of intensive home and professional intervention and therapy, whether her refusal to follow simple instructions, communicated through ASL, pictures, repeated demonstrations and acting out, emerged as a symptom of her psychological emotional disorder or because of her complete poverty of symbolic language. <br />
<br />
The RAD specialists available to our son and his wife through appointment, book, and internet spoke only of experience with hearing children, with children who possessed language, children who could at least name everyday objects and understand simple instructions, even if they could not voice with words the great wounding within them, and many of the suggested therapeutic strategies required that the child have ability to hear and understand common language.<br />
<br />
This child's adoptive mother and father had invested much time, the year before her arrival, in college level ASL (American sign language) classes and attending local ASL conversation and story-telling events, holding to a thread of a hope that money and instruction they had sent for the purpose of sign language instruction for the girl resulted in lessons. That had not happened, and though this new daughter started public school in a program for the deaf within two weeks of her arrival, the task of teaching her rudimentary language largely fell to our daughter-in-law and son, both consummate and excellent teachers, and for a season of home-schooling, necessary to address the most pressing aspects of her reactive attachment disorder, they were her only teachers.<br />
<br />
Little by little, as I listened to my son and daughter-in-law share what they learned from their classes, specialists and books about language development in the deaf person, and as I watched, the unending frustration of getting her to understand ANYTHING we attempted to communicate to her, her utter BANKRUPTCY OF SYMBOL gradually seeped into my comprehension. Her poverty in this regard stunned me then and continues to stun me whenever I ponder it.<br />
<br />
I have lived my entire life filled with the richness of words and language and symbol. I love to read and write. I had had multiple arguments with my husband and at least one conference with our son's teacher over the proper use of words. Language and the ability to communicate has been so much a birthright in my thinking, that even working alongside and attending classes and worship events with deaf people in our area did not prepare me for my granddaughter's poverty, because the people I saw engaged in lively hand-conversation with one another, their communication punctuated with loud grunts and stage-quality facial expression, obviously understood one another, and the ASL I saw as songs and sermons were translated for the deaf often impressed me with the richness of the visual symbol.<br />
<br />
But this "unaccompanied minor" who changed everything when she entered our lives was poor beyond measure in the acquisition of language. She had come so late in her development to this family to whom language and symbol mattered so much and her emotional wounding stole the remaining "developmentally fruitful" years before puberty.<br />
<br />
So on this Monday morning, like every school day of this new year, I am picking my granddaughter up to take her to school. No longer a literal "unaccompanied minor" she is still a stranger and an alien when we attempt to communicate - I with my six weeks of "ASL for seniors" instruction interrupted by three years of "signing silence" between us ( to encourage the establishment of proper bonding of this child with her new parents) and she with her hasty signing embellished with much grunting, pointing and facial expressions but very little grasp of words that are not symbols of things that can be pointed to or actions that can be demonstrated, very little grasp of sentence structure or tense or story telling order.<br />
<br />
Last year, I picked her up from school each afternoon, and required her to sit in the back seat - a therapy guideline prescribed at that time for her to feel safe and protected. She usually grunted and gestured with a stream of "signs" tossed into the mix...newly learned words tossed indiscriminately into a list of words that meant something to her....her standard signing of past endlessly repeated events "me-go-fly, dog-my-baby" tossed in with the name-signs of her teacher, therapist, or classmate with no regard for coherency of subject or timeframe to help me understand. I, newly released from the linguistic prison that the constraints of therapeutic process had imposed upon me as grandparent, attempted to revive the tiny remnant of ASL in my brain and understand her. <br />
<br />
This year my granddaughter sits in the front seat, her vocabulary has steadily increased, and she feels she has things, sentences, stories! to tell me. But my proficiency in ASL has not increased enough to keep pace with what she is trying to communicate to me, and several ASL "mis-speaks" and mis-understandings are making it obvious to me that our inability to effectively communicate is now my responsibility as much, if not more than hers, and frustrating to her as well as me.<br />
<br />
This morning she repeatedly pointed to the outside "bus entrance" to the doors next to her special education unit, circling her fist next to her jaw in a sign I did not recognize. I signed "No. Before, I tell you we not go that way (pointing), we go that way (pointing to the front entrance - the much longer, prescribed entrance route)". Frustrated, she repeated her signs with more vehemence and volume and threw in a "clothes" and a "my" sign among others I did not recognize. I thought she was telling me that her clothes were over there, and when I signed "your clothes there?" twice to confirm that guess, she signed "yes", gave me a puzzled look, then resigned, followed me to the entrance.<br />
<br />
We snaked our way through crowded hallways to her classroom door where I asked one of the aides if my granddaughter had left some of her clothes there. When I asked if she knew any sign language she brought the new interpreter over to me. During my parking lot interchange with my granddaughter I'd forgotten the upcoming personnel change. "Are you Sue?" I asked, pulling from my usually inaccurate name files of casual mentions and newly introduced people. <br />
<br />
"Susan", she answered. <br />
<br />
"How do you sign your name?" <br />
<br />
She answered with fist circling at her jaw....and recognition slowly dawned within me of my granddaughter's "S" hand circling at her jaw was meant to signify a female whose name began with "S". My granddaughter had either spotted the interpreter entering the building or had anticipated seeing her, and her "clothes-my" sign had perhaps referred to the clothes of the interpreter or was an ASL sign or partial sign for "interpreter" (I struggle to retain for later repetition and translation a fast stream of signs I do not understand).<br />
<br />
So, in my halting sign, with gestures and facial expressions to fill in for my lack, I tell my granddaughter I understand what she was trying to tell me. <br />
<br />
Her entire body smiles.<br />
<br />
On this Multitude Monday, I give thanks to God for the gift of being understood.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5QkXGV_Xz8GDfmIbDLIc_9Kh_Q1FFWlEB0xN9nj2Xt_PrABuiEX4tx46ibUO_9TLU8h2uxvkyexTn43rjX7AZ56Q9tyapHbyeCXFtbn2AjjLs5VaRhDBvk9slZzNclG-u_DQcvsVT9Y/s1600/DSCN1995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5QkXGV_Xz8GDfmIbDLIc_9Kh_Q1FFWlEB0xN9nj2Xt_PrABuiEX4tx46ibUO_9TLU8h2uxvkyexTn43rjX7AZ56Q9tyapHbyeCXFtbn2AjjLs5VaRhDBvk9slZzNclG-u_DQcvsVT9Y/s400/DSCN1995.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-81226902600078140412010-10-14T14:38:00.000-07:002010-10-18T16:42:04.439-07:00His Ways<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br />
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I've been thinking about <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/10/journey-of-faith-friday-gods-work-in-my.html">Amber's recent writing invitation</a> for just shy of two weeks now, trying to figure out what I would write about what God was up to in this season of my life. For much of my adult life, I would have had a ready answer, so certain was I of my intimate realtionship with Him, of listening to His voice and recognizing His fingerprints.<br />
<br />
I remember pondering this verse for months from one of my many favorite, oft-prayed psalms:<br />
<br />
"He made known his ways to Moses, his deeds to the people of Israel:" (Psalm 103:7) <br />
<br />
What follows that phrase is a brief listing of some of the personality traits, or characteristics of God's interactions with humans. Though for many years I had read "ways" and "deeds" as a simple literary repetition for emphasis, at that time I began to focus on the difference between knowing God's "deeds" and knowing God's "ways" - his habitual ways of acting. It seemed to me then that seeing or recognizing God's deeds was a first and necessary step to knowing his ways, but that knowing his ways- his likely ways of acting, his inclinations, his motives- was an indication of intimate relationship and that was what I wanted - and what I thought I had. I spent a lot of time reading, studying and praying the Bible, journaling the movements of my heart and tracking His footprints in the lives of others.<br />
<br />
<br />
But now....NOW what is God up to in my life? What has He been working on in this questioning, doubting, grieving, pondering and longing season of life, so filled with noisy celebrations of life concurrent with drawn-out mournings of disappointment and loss? My own questions have clamored for so much attention in this season that I've either been deaf to or highly suspicious of any questions God might be asking me. What questions or challenges might He be throwing down for me on which I've yet to stubb my toe? I do not know.<br />
<br />
But I do know that I am still alive. For this day, this moment, I have been given life and health, sustenance and safety, and the ability to choose what I believe to be true and how I will respond to people and events. I have been given husband and sons and daughters-in-love and grandchildren to know, love and encourage; brothers, sisters, mothers and more to respect and love. Though there have been heartaches aplenty in this season, moments of joy and laughter have sparkled through my days like the bright morning sun transforms the surface of the bay into a million sparkling diamonds.<br />
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I know I have learned valuable life habits and insights in this season of withrawal and winter that I did not learn in other, more green and "fruitful" seasons of life.<br />
<br />
At certain moments in these past 6 years I have whispered to my soul, "I have become weary in well-doing" (Gal 6:9) and "I do not please God now because I am not sure He exists, I am not certain of what I do not see" (Hebrews 11:1, 6).<br />
<br />
At quite a few moments in these past 6 years, my husband of almost 35 years has asked me, sometimes with fear and sometimes with teasing in his voice, the question I have asked myself "Sandy, are you a Christian now?"<br />
<br />
My answer, both to him and myself, has been rooted far more in my experience of God's compassion, patience and covenant, then in my intellectual struggles or even in my desire to live love and truth: "I do not think he has abandoned me, even though some days I doubt He exists." My answer is rooted in my experience of the psalmist's words of His ways that follow the "ways and deeds" phrase in Psalm 103:<br />
<br />
"The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.<br />
He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever;<br />
he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.<br />
For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him...<br />
As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;<br />
for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust."Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-11626259730438642372010-10-04T12:24:00.000-07:002010-10-18T16:47:51.843-07:00Gratitude Walk<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVWOfcwDhpDNBrrws3zz6eWZb3_FzlqRBDyAiXFV7XIL85Z1RHJ207U0an2CtVjCaVM7bL5HR4uk52qQhru32wJZZbl7sAo0-9fknRPBcsbHCs9EI3VI0k5o1YXjRmgk3fCrNROycGjoQ/s1600/DSCN1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVWOfcwDhpDNBrrws3zz6eWZb3_FzlqRBDyAiXFV7XIL85Z1RHJ207U0an2CtVjCaVM7bL5HR4uk52qQhru32wJZZbl7sAo0-9fknRPBcsbHCs9EI3VI0k5o1YXjRmgk3fCrNROycGjoQ/s400/DSCN1867.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>133. I had a brief, unanticipated meeting with an old friend as I walked in the park Sunday morning.<br />
<br />
134. Though I smiled inwardly at this friend's ready assertion to me of personal attendance at a worship service earlier that morning and wondered if a smile might come to his face if he knew how few corporate worship services I'd taken part in these past few years<br />
<br />
136. I greatly appreciated his transparent admission of entertaining world view quandaries and theological struggles similar to some of mine<br />
<br />
137. and the few moments of empathic conversation.<br />
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138. I returned to photographing the water lilies before hurrying home to dinner with my husband and son and his always lively family.<br />
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139. The intentional "gratitude walk" with camera in hand, had succeeded, as it almost always does, in turning my thoughts to thankfulness to God for the beauty that surrounds me<br />
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140. and for the gifts of a safe community in which to walk<br />
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141. and the awe and inner relaxing and reordering of thoughts that awaits when I step outside.<br />
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141. Thank you, God, for healthy grandsons and a morning at the park staging "zoo animals" for photos<br />
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142. and for missing the small "no swimming" logo on a nearby sign even though I searched for it before allowing <br />
<br />
143. the boys to play in "the river" fountain for many fun-filled minutes<br />
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144. feeling like a community trouble-maker when parents walked past refusing water access to their young'uns<br />
<br />
145. and for those boys' quick obedience to end the water play once I spotted the prohibition...sigh...the threat of litigation spoiling fun once again...<br />
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146. for noisy, tiring, but happy family meals together<br />
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147. where babies can get baths in the kitchen sink<br />
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148. and attentive cousins can get a sink-side tutorial<br />
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149. and hang together when the bath is done.<br />
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150. For generous friends to lay-out and form and family to help pour the footer for the new family house on the old family lot<br />
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151. for the blessing of grand-parenting<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>152. and afternoons of working together<br />
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153. while listening to the Rays CLINCH the American League East<br />
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</center><o:p></o:p>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-86161713750407895372010-09-25T19:27:00.000-07:002010-10-04T18:25:29.407-07:00Experiencing God's Goodness Through People<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>Seven years ago I was preparing to host an open house to celebrate Kyle and Michelle's wedding with all our Florida friends. Kyle had been serving with Word Made Flesh in Kolkata for a couple years, and had met and fallen in love with Michelle when she had volunteered there the previous summer. They'd been courting long distance most of the year and had gotten married in Wisconsin in July. We wanted to host an open house for our many friends in Florida to meet Michelle and visit with Kyle who had been away - at school and then India - for so long. Our house is plenty large enough for David and myself, but rather compact when considering having 100-150 people over. <br /><br />My friends helped me plan the menu and spent hours helping me prepare a number of the dishes. One made several desserts and spent the hours during the open house plating hors d'oeuvres and cleaning up. One friend ran a food pick-up for me, and one friend with mad scrapbooking skills took an hour or two to lead me through making wedding photo posters - a process that would have taken me days by myself.<br /><br />One friend even helped me clean out and organize my garage a couple weeks prior to the event (a mountainous task that had been overwhelming to me) to gain much needed storage and prep space for the party supplies and food. On the two nights of the open house, because my friends had been so good to me, sharing their time and expertise, I was able to fully relax and enjoy all our friends and Kyle and Michelle.<br /><br />I experienced the same kind of goodness in getting set up for Sam and Amber's wedding rehearsal dinner. Family and friends helped us prepare food, set up tables, displays and games and made short work of the clean-up at the end of the evening.<br /><br />Over the years I've learned to know myself, in part, by noticing how I differ from others...in the motivations that drive us, the ways we work and communicate, our skill sets and preferences for doing things together or by ourselves, etc. Though I've spent waaay too much time moaning about my dismal rate of productivity over the years, I've worked to exchange moaning about my weaknesses for a willingness to ask for help and gratitude for the people in my life with the skills, gifts and willingness to help me bring about the plan I've envisioned.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-86123689706903206072010-09-20T18:49:00.000-07:002010-10-04T18:25:29.411-07:00Counting Blessings<center></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" alt="holy experience" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br /><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;"></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;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />101. While taking Prema to school in the mornings this fall, I've seen the pastor who served as Kyle and Sam's middle school pastor.<br /><br />102. He's still at it - caring about kids at one of their most awkward stages, investing in their lives with prayer, fun activities, group Bible studies, and opportunities to serve.<br /><br />103. One of Kyle's and Sam's high school teachers stopped by the lot where the new house will be going up when he saw David and Kyle working the other day. He too, invested himself in the students way beyond the requirementsof his paycheck...he cared...and it showed.<br /><br />104. These two have made me think of many other men and women who served as teachers and pastors and coaches during our sons growing up years...who served, who cared, who invested in my children.<br /><br />105. Amber's posts about people who encouraged/influenced her made me think about all the "everyday folks" who gave of themselves in the small church in which I grew up...<br /><br />106. the older gentleman who cut out wood parts for our VBS projects<br /><br />107. and his wife who taught us girls some hand sewing skills<br /><br />108. who together offered their acreage for the annual sunday school picnic<br /><br />109. and who served corn picked fresh from their garden and cooked in massive quantities<br /><br />110. the pastor's wife who always seemed glad to see me no matter how much I was interrupting her day<br />(she never let on, but now when I look back I shudder at how often I barged in to "parsonage"<br /><br />111. and who cleaned the church sanctuary every week (did we pay her?)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>112. and could keep us kids interested in the flannel graph stories she wove<br /><br />113. in a voice so quiet we listened intently to hear her<br /><br />114. and the three pastors who served during my growing up years at that small neighborhood church<br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4426004275791108566&postID=8345505553927669895" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />115. who knew me personally<br /><br />116. and visited my family<br /><br />117. sometimes just to connect<br /><br />118. and sometimes to comfort<br /><br />119. who never seeemed to mind my interruptions of their study time to ask them questions<br /><br />120. who never made much money, but kept caring about people, investing in lives.<br /><br />121. I'm grateful to live in a neighborhood where I know and like my neighbors<br /><br />122. and their dogs<br /><br />123. and a spirit of helpfulness and cooperation is the norm.<br /><br />124. I'm grateful we got to see the incredible, full rainbow<br /><br />125. seemingly springing out of the water by the boat ramp at thelake<br /><br />126. during our casual family bike ride late Sunday that turned into<br /><br />127. a rainy biking adventure<br /><br />128. where the shower refreshed us with its drenching<br /><br />129. and brought cooler temperatures this morning.<br /><br />130. I'm grateful for my husband who shows his love for his family by acts of service<br /><br />131. and provision<br /><br />132. and for two sons who do the same.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-28147886203332330562010-09-13T12:49:00.000-07:002010-10-04T18:25:29.415-07:00Daily Gifts<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br /><br /><br /><center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">This week I give God thanks:</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">101. for honey bees</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">102. that have lived within our walls for more than a year </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyiAIWN7xigATUDcRTBkRSRupBrRyDeYdh75SC7oX25W3V0GLTJOHzSFl77adNPVpsEXHSPQLg93QC70sfIYgvFzygEreAyLjt57riY324Cr20IHyGJq-wcxFpUQ6wUg6qUsuroMmMUbk/s1600/DSCN0471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyiAIWN7xigATUDcRTBkRSRupBrRyDeYdh75SC7oX25W3V0GLTJOHzSFl77adNPVpsEXHSPQLg93QC70sfIYgvFzygEreAyLjt57riY324Cr20IHyGJq-wcxFpUQ6wUg6qUsuroMmMUbk/s400/DSCN0471.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">after they first came to visit "the homestead"</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeC7pdLqQ8h5B5GQp3oStBzSWKRkscotdhg_yQ5eNA2BimyO59qY82LpRR_2WUjUZz2FPDLuprZKZ_UeleTc1AlHmktkORSrDu4QY1KUMIR_uBm2LEkb0oGy8Kj7R_jIQMLVCH3qW1UknC/s1600/FH000001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeC7pdLqQ8h5B5GQp3oStBzSWKRkscotdhg_yQ5eNA2BimyO59qY82LpRR_2WUjUZz2FPDLuprZKZ_UeleTc1AlHmktkORSrDu4QY1KUMIR_uBm2LEkb0oGy8Kj7R_jIQMLVCH3qW1UknC/s400/FH000001.jpg" width="270" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">103. with their gentle nature </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">104. and their daily work</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">104. of harvesting and making (in addition to pollinating plants)</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">105. honey....its distinct taste.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">106. for the hope and inclination to find a skilled beekeeper</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">107. willing to give instruction and move the hive to a better location in our back yard </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">108. for sitting on the curb with my 3 year old grandson</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA_9N_9MuHuHhxuU2CmClywxRR9av8vgPqJhKJqfgIkWEgaDA1Yr4MEv-vBUnj8w481qszBYmHwWaiNUX5_YLN_qJNtJsgQJYDXS3U01heL0qBuaINlOSFMtv3zThRFjRzbxmYCQrDnIo/s1600/DSCN3840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA_9N_9MuHuHhxuU2CmClywxRR9av8vgPqJhKJqfgIkWEgaDA1Yr4MEv-vBUnj8w481qszBYmHwWaiNUX5_YLN_qJNtJsgQJYDXS3U01heL0qBuaINlOSFMtv3zThRFjRzbxmYCQrDnIo/s400/DSCN3840.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">109. on a hot sun-drenched morning</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">110. after he finished explaining the A/C system of the John Deere tractor (riding toy) to me</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">111. listening together to the squirrels quarrel</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">112. and the birds sound</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">113. and seeing three honey bees fall to the ground</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">114. and two different butterflies dance for us.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">115. for brushes and paint</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">116. for glorious color</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">117. for little boys who love stories and books</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">118. and moms and dads who wisely feed that hunger and stoke that fire</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">119. for the satisfaction of long-distance bike rides that our sons are doing together</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">120. and the physical and emotional benefits</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">121. for the privilege of getting to know our sons as adults</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">122. and watching our daughters in law "build" their lives, their homes, their families</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">123. for the gift of music</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">124. and David's pleasure in playing trombone</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">125. and in the "community" that takes place in band and orchestra rehearsals and performances</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">126. for "family/community dinner" nights at our house</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">127. the discipline and joy of planning and preparing house and meals</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">128. for the connection and conversation and deepening friendships</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">129. for C.S. Lewis </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">130. and his "Chronicles of Narnia"</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">131. and David's enjoyment of the same </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">132. for Leanne Payne's knowledge and perspective of the writings of Lewis</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">133. and her sharing her marvelous intellect and insights with us through books and lectures</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">134. for delicious conversations with good friends</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">135. and paintings that make my heart sing </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-32489186591197823442010-09-10T13:26:00.000-07:002010-10-04T18:25:29.418-07:00Only One Savior<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">I had already practiced the much-needed discipline of telling myself, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"I am not the junior holy spirit!"</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> regarding insights or changes I thought might benefit my husband, when I discovered Leanne Payne's wonderful intelligence and insight and her passionate knowledge and experience of Jesus. Either </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> or </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Restoring the Christian Soul through Healing Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> introduced me to Leanne's writings, and very quickly I devoured every book by Leanne that I could get my hands on. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">I have read most of her books at least twice</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> and have given away numerous copies to others. I currently have </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">The Broken Image</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Real Presence</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, and </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Healing Presence</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> on my bookshelf.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span">I came across Leanne's writings about 15-20 years ago when I had been getting my toes wet in the waters of intercessory prayer, bringing hurting people to God's throne, asking for His grace and mercy for them. Influencing others is one of my strong personality traits and since I had been barred from teaching at my church and I hadn't developed the necessary disciplines and skills to write and publish on a regular basis, I moved toward the next best thing for someone not allowed the use of manipulation tactics or holy spirit status - prayer on behalf of others. I felt like God had done so much renovation work in my own life and I was hungry to see Him use my prayers to help others.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span">Leanne Payne's understanding of the psychological and spiritual processes at work in our lives, and her teachings about the presence of God in our lives - incarnational reality, the role of forgiveness in healing prayer, the writings of C. S. Lewis, the dangers of inviting gnosticism and Jungian symbolism into our thought lives and Christian communities has been a skillfully sharp sword in my life, and I could quote many passages that have helped me over the years. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span">I am choosing a passage from </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> that confronts and exposes a type of "prayer" that has been around for centuries: substitution. A quick scan may not yield its treasure, so I encourage you, if you spend any time at all helping, praying for or mentoring others, to read it again when you have the time and focus to read it fully and use the very specific prayers.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> <br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"When we receive the gift of tears and strong crying out to God in intercession, we are not given special merit. Rather it is a gracious "work" of God's Spirit. We should be grateful and thank God for it. Trying to duplicate this grace </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span">is folly and gets in the way of intercession. Much of our best work of prayer will be done without sensible knowledge of this grace. When it comes, we simply give thanks for it.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Having said this, there are bona fide ascetic practices that, when absent from our lives, pretty well guarantee that we will not do much interceding. We are powerless when fasting, solitude, silence, and the classic ways of training our bodies to be temples of the Holy Spirit - as we see in our Lord, those He taught, and the early church - are missing in our lives. Dallas Willard's book, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">The Spirit of the Disciplines,</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span"> should be read by all who are serious about true ascetics as applied to prayer and the Christian walk.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Besides the matter of false ascetics with its misbegotten ideas about God or ourselves, two other practices that hinder us in prayer are widespread today. One involves the practice of </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">substitution</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. This occurs when we pray to take someone else's pain, illness, fear, or sorrow into or upon ourselves. In such a case, we do not intercede to God for them,but try to substitute for them. Rather than looking to Christ as the One who died to take their pain, sin, or darkness </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">into Himself</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">, we ask to take it upon and into ourselves. Rather than looking to the Savior, we attempt to be one. Instead of helping someone carry their burden of guilt, pain, sickness, or whatever to God in prayer, we ourselves fail to trust God. We attempt to carry the person's need in our own strength.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Substitution occurs, then, when we blur the distinction between being a savior-redeemer --something only Jesus could ever be and do -- and being His disciple, a sacramental channel through whom His life is to flow. To substitute is to attempt to do the work Christ has already finished, while simultaneously missing our own proper work.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> To take upon or into ourselves as mediators the darkness of others is at best based in ignorance, at worst based in pride. Either way, we fall into a messiah or savior complex and will have to confess pride to get out of it.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">One of the great dangers in substitution lies in the fact that spiritual forces we do not understand or fail to discern can be directly involved in sickness of spirit, soul, and body. In the case of demonic presences, these are quite amenable to "transferring" themselves from the sick person to the one who asks to "substitute." Such a person unwittingly opens his or her soul and body to darkness, saying to the enemy "Come in" while simultaneously sending messages to his or her own mind and body, "Disintegrate, I give you full permission."</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">This action, of course, is not rooted in looking to and trusting God -- that is, in true prayer. The well-publicized movie </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span">The Exorcist </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">did not feature an exorcism at all, but a substitution. A priest, failing to pray to God and exercise the authority of his office, instead took into himself the demonic force afflicting a child. The movie ends with the priest leaping from a window to his death. This illustrates most graphically the price to pay in substitutions. This price is not one connected with legitimate Christian suffering.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">An interesting sidelight here: in PCM conferences, we bring the gospel to bear on the healing of souls. Since we are psychomatic unities--body and soul--our bodies begin to heal as a natural course and sometimes even instantly. Near the end of each conference, we are often led to pray for physical healings, especially those connected to the emotional and spiritual healings received by the people. Invariably, however, when people have the opportunity to renounce their substitutions, we see dramatic and instantaneous physical healings--as well as mental and emotional. There have been miraculous healings of cancer, emphysema, and others from these renunciations. Healings, such as those connected to the practice of substitution, do not seem to occur apart from specific teaching and opportunities to pray for them. Our grief is that there is never enough time in these meetings to get all the teaching and healing prayer exercises in.</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">If after reading the above, you know or even think that "maybe" there has been a substitution of this kind, now is the moment to name it, repent of it, and renounce it. You can look straight up to God and pray as follows:</span></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"Lord, I asked to take on [so and so's] pain, disease, or darkness of [name the spiritual darkness, physical disease such as blindness, crippling condition, or mental and emotional depression or darkness of whatever kind]. I name my foolishness and pride before You right now. You alone are Savior-Redeemer. My faith in you was lacking, and I asked to do what You have already done--You carried our sicknesses, our sins, our sorrows. Forgive me, Lord, even as I renounce this substitution."</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">The substitution is then renounced, specifically:</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"Lord, I have confessed as sin the pride and unbelief that was in this substitution. I now renounce it before You. [Renounce as specifically as possible the substitution you made, for instance, 'Lord, I asked to take on so and so's blindness, I renounce that substitution, confessing as sin the pride and unbelief that was in it.'] I look directly to You for [so and so's] health and wholeness, and thank you for removing from me, as far as the East is from the West, this malady I've suffered due to this wrongful practice.'</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> </i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">This prayer ends in praise and thanksgiving to God for His forgiveness, for His release from the substitution, and for all the healing that accrues from it."</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Leanne Payne, </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span">Listening Prayer</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span">, copyright 1994, pp 58-60, Hamewith Books, a divsion of Baker Book House Co., Grand Rapids, MI 49516</span></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span><br /><i></i><br /><i></i><br /><i><div style="display: inline !important;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/080105916X?ie=UTF8&tag=thethrrem05-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=080105916X">Listening Prayer: Learning to Hear God's Voice and Keep a Prayer Journal</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thethrrem05-20&l=as2&o=1&a=080105916X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></div></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span><br /><i></i><br /><i></i><br /><i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">Though I cannot remember wanting to take on another's physical or mental illness, I have definitely, on occasion, fallen into a "savior complex", which really only, in my experience, impedes or delays the true work of God. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span">I have been able to steer myself away from commitments and entanglements motivated by the "be the savior" temptation many times by reminding myself: </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">There is only one Savior, and I am NOT Him.</span></b><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj28muV0JgzIq4P2mCB1_4rBZXVoaokppAHxHSjmyxKVzhtZLk6-1KqMCtw7mUzsbaS7C99-lm4Kw45tS_hyW4NrkOQrDLtOagKwd5acouK5ZSxNDpV_KiNhHU7nzzLhO6DlvmM6bMPbEFM/s1600/DSCN0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj28muV0JgzIq4P2mCB1_4rBZXVoaokppAHxHSjmyxKVzhtZLk6-1KqMCtw7mUzsbaS7C99-lm4Kw45tS_hyW4NrkOQrDLtOagKwd5acouK5ZSxNDpV_KiNhHU7nzzLhO6DlvmM6bMPbEFM/s200/DSCN0338.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-56312394648052767492010-09-06T10:22:00.000-07:002010-09-08T04:37:25.995-07:00Grateful<center></center><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><br />
<img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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I'm grateful:<br />
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71. for the discipline and public "accountability" of of multitude monday<br />
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72. for the "nuggets of joy" that seem to eventually come to the person looking for them<br />
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73. for my husband's faithfulness to love me, day in and day out, over 35 years<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0iHc8LXqLREKjITqXf6cxfzj5tF6AarEW87mMIygQePqIf7fD8At4GF9whwRywlxeXvCXQ2DFUdVNPo9NIaM6f2YKmAbVoKp5J-XVrXTfKodLsdOnI248Oh26IzR4nX_QF-Id3O5DXR5/s1600/DSCN0703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0iHc8LXqLREKjITqXf6cxfzj5tF6AarEW87mMIygQePqIf7fD8At4GF9whwRywlxeXvCXQ2DFUdVNPo9NIaM6f2YKmAbVoKp5J-XVrXTfKodLsdOnI248Oh26IzR4nX_QF-Id3O5DXR5/s400/DSCN0703.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>74. for gorgeous sunsets<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfg9-8bzkdEeag6j7trzClJvsqd9kFwaU-iBeR19ZIxupl_3Lo7wNkn3r78-MXZSescDUXTkm5g6WbAxRMx35f0F7oldHR__RmXubQmz0GMoZ9uuLniak8XIsawCWZDC4zac3zArMqQOC/s1600/DSCN0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfg9-8bzkdEeag6j7trzClJvsqd9kFwaU-iBeR19ZIxupl_3Lo7wNkn3r78-MXZSescDUXTkm5g6WbAxRMx35f0F7oldHR__RmXubQmz0GMoZ9uuLniak8XIsawCWZDC4zac3zArMqQOC/s400/DSCN0938.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>75. that happen over and over and over <br />
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76. for living in a place where I get to watch pelicans fish on a regular basis<br />
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77. for children who help waken their napping infant cousin with kisses<br />
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78. and parents who allow and encourage it<br />
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79. for grandchildren bursting in through the front door with hearty greetings and tales of the latest adventure<br />
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80. for David's flexibility in welcoming my mom on our trip to Alaska<br />
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81. and chauffeuring us all over the place<br />
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82. freeing me to drink in the scenery<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vfVqLCgN_dT2k0Vg03lzACpQX8Xkzv4OTu1gBP4dB8yxEgWpiRYdUsCHsOA-LEgvQ7ZS5Z-ClcY1JWRVW3jaYWdoKgURgRlFprkFskV2JmLAIlBtWqCh3jbeD9u-SAKsyTqyetarLAGd/s1600/DSCN0985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vfVqLCgN_dT2k0Vg03lzACpQX8Xkzv4OTu1gBP4dB8yxEgWpiRYdUsCHsOA-LEgvQ7ZS5Z-ClcY1JWRVW3jaYWdoKgURgRlFprkFskV2JmLAIlBtWqCh3jbeD9u-SAKsyTqyetarLAGd/s400/DSCN0985.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
83. for the joy of reading books for learning and pleasure<br />
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84. for the musician at "our beach" playing a xylophone last night just before sunset<br />
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85. for Eli's interest and joy as he danced in the water to the jamaican beat<br />
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86. that I could see his mom in his dance<br />
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87. for the fiercely strong waves<br />
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88. so far out, yet still shallow enough for the little ones to make it all the way on foot<br />
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89. and have so much fun trying to body surf and withstand the pummeling<br />
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90. for ground broken and work begun on preparing the land for the "construction shed" and future home for Kyle and Michelle's family<br />
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91. that the children will be able to watch and help throughout the process, building knowledge and good stewardship that comes from helping to build it<br />
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92. for my two daughters-in-law<br />
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93. who are very different in so many ways<br />
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94. but who each contribute so much to who our family is becoming<br />
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95. and also to their friends and communities<br />
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96. for the many varied ways I get to witness our sons loving their wives<br />
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97. and children<br />
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98. for all the young adults we've had live with us for a season...and all the new life and perspective they have brought to David and me: <br />
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99. Kyle and Michelle, Joanna, Sam and Amber, Amy<br />
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100. for abundant health and the ability to workSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-90499674492064374832010-09-04T08:30:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.429-07:00Where in the World...? Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Wl5ZzAjXxNC56ZK-zqUemflyZ1aPgFHSuMGOhIjH27uiMQERLv37plkH8Z9FdttS8UKipNHU5EPkzAH8RbmmIsf6NOihphsZRf-_hgsofekqlO_vWOr14cnZqFISaAXRtRmjcEikWKfp/s1600/DSCN0880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Wl5ZzAjXxNC56ZK-zqUemflyZ1aPgFHSuMGOhIjH27uiMQERLv37plkH8Z9FdttS8UKipNHU5EPkzAH8RbmmIsf6NOihphsZRf-_hgsofekqlO_vWOr14cnZqFISaAXRtRmjcEikWKfp/s400/DSCN0880.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />While these posts designed for a game of observation and memory will be geared mostly for my immediate and local family, any others may join in guessing. I live in Pinellas County, Florida and travel between Largo and Tampa for most of my weeks, with occasional trips farther north to Brooksville and Floral City (mothers). <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLUT0jShFTqlPGp1zz31Y82tqbUftGkeEsIB8IqhBmNcN7va_6cCM2D9qeWiE2EG9vzBD6tRExNPUyn0OlhEv5pOFVszV97Lv4-fWW-RKNeSzf5wJrneByOizUYF6Flg4R-F7myKGxWiP/s1600/DSCN0933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLUT0jShFTqlPGp1zz31Y82tqbUftGkeEsIB8IqhBmNcN7va_6cCM2D9qeWiE2EG9vzBD6tRExNPUyn0OlhEv5pOFVszV97Lv4-fWW-RKNeSzf5wJrneByOizUYF6Flg4R-F7myKGxWiP/s400/DSCN0933.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Most recent vacation trips have been to Alaska, Minneapolis, and Seattle, with older pics from Chicago and maybe even Boston and Baltimore if I get around to loading older photo cd's.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsuBKapSDurelhyphenhyphenjINswPkrWdAXnbvBOqZmxIDUk0-dVBa5lcOspJx9SVadtfgUXl0InK-hJHU64jx6JHKrGRsCO8oErSeZmAixvlGQey70hkX3BOfOFTslwURHDy1i7JYlPGwXU1LzIA/s1600/DSCN0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsuBKapSDurelhyphenhyphenjINswPkrWdAXnbvBOqZmxIDUk0-dVBa5lcOspJx9SVadtfgUXl0InK-hJHU64jx6JHKrGRsCO8oErSeZmAixvlGQey70hkX3BOfOFTslwURHDy1i7JYlPGwXU1LzIA/s400/DSCN0879.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />At times I will post pictures already featured on this or other blogs to which I contribute . I will try to post a variety of "easy" and "harder" pics, to encourage the kids in their observation and deduction skills. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXSbqvpNH0FoaOvBW0dDXQlGMMtwOObzOgAGpHaOByWxVicwwcxMESwFZ1eK6zeqUyCH3B5R7qVRGL4Ifb3wvphNQUgnRKNBD2_5Uh4Z1BkUbOGfT0qPooBZJ7Z6HM8Ja9IHVi9KdnYBr/s1600/DSCN0429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXSbqvpNH0FoaOvBW0dDXQlGMMtwOObzOgAGpHaOByWxVicwwcxMESwFZ1eK6zeqUyCH3B5R7qVRGL4Ifb3wvphNQUgnRKNBD2_5Uh4Z1BkUbOGfT0qPooBZJ7Z6HM8Ja9IHVi9KdnYBr/s400/DSCN0429.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Have fun, and be as specific as possible when you post your guesses, please.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-58353171013755733622010-09-03T09:32:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.438-07:00God Will<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLNMkMSpb1Yfy5mLJRFLa_8F2iWz_0hNxLfMvIHNtdcK33EZB-zXuJleqyzOmkoRXolWXYFzTJPXXMaYapxpwHvVSY_Z-835NEth3gzKKmhQZzxqupHAEaPR9XuYhXMZ0gjrs559uH_4A/s1600/DSCN0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLNMkMSpb1Yfy5mLJRFLa_8F2iWz_0hNxLfMvIHNtdcK33EZB-zXuJleqyzOmkoRXolWXYFzTJPXXMaYapxpwHvVSY_Z-835NEth3gzKKmhQZzxqupHAEaPR9XuYhXMZ0gjrs559uH_4A/s400/DSCN0123.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />I don't remember now what the conflict was. But I do remember it was a seemingly unscalable, impassable mountain in my relationship with my husband. I'm guessing that conflict took place somewhere in the 15th-25th year of our marriage. It wasn't even close to being the first conflict of that level, intensity, and insurmountability. It certainly wouldn't be the last. Or the longest. Or the worst. But I was undone -- completely. <br /><br />I saw no way out, around or through. My husband exited the room -- or the house --and I slid down the wall in a heap on the floor, weeping, flinging my broken heart and intractable husband at the feet of God, crying out for grace.<br /><br />Quietly, from a still place deep within/beyond me, came words and music, and I began to sing: <br /><br /><i>"God will make a way where there seems to be no way. </i><br /><i>He works in ways we cannot see---He will make a way for me. </i><br /><i>He will be my guide, Hold me closely to His side. </i><br /><i>With love and strength for each new day </i><br /><i>He will make a way, He will make a way." </i><br /><br />I sang the lyrics once, twice, four times, then stood to my feet in that spot with a quieted heart. I knew that God had seen, heard, and answered. I would wait with a heart that trusted Him, to see what He would do.<br />All the rest of that day, and throughout the several days that followed, I sang and hummed that song. No matter what other activity I was involved in, I could hear the words and melody:<br /><br /><i>"God will make a way where there seems to be no way.</i><br /><i>He works in ways we cannot see -- He will make a way for me.."</i><br /><i><br /></i><br />God did make a way where there seemed to be no way. As He had done many times before and would do many times again in my relationship with my husband.<br /><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1zo3fJYtS-o?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1zo3fJYtS-o?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><i><br /></i><br />Thank You, Don Moen and Integrity Music for giving me -- and multitudes of other people over the past three? decades -- so many songs that have taught us how to praise God through song, have ushered us into God's presence and embedded His truths in our heart.<br /><br />So MANY songs have so greatly enriched my walk with God over the years...bringing hope, healing, thanksgiving, praise, intercession and joy -- more stories to tell later. I am so grateful for the ability to hear and to sing, so grateful for the wonderful gift of music.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-23629586615162913422010-09-02T08:58:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.450-07:00Surrender My Demand For Life on My Terms?<center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RkMENDocYN7UnAmpDPGkoj2CETTUEm6a3XUZvNSkJrf-xWS__hyphenhyphenaxquX5hyvyDGuTR4MUpJ1LtpHDglNoVcwh6GN5xRIr-MBo_JoiJ_8UqGQC-eaIbA405JjhUk-RJaeOzAVeVMzMkcm/s1600/DSCN1384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RkMENDocYN7UnAmpDPGkoj2CETTUEm6a3XUZvNSkJrf-xWS__hyphenhyphenaxquX5hyvyDGuTR4MUpJ1LtpHDglNoVcwh6GN5xRIr-MBo_JoiJ_8UqGQC-eaIbA405JjhUk-RJaeOzAVeVMzMkcm/s400/DSCN1384.JPG" width="400" /></a>I was a little glad when I got back to civilization/internet access, and saw that I had missed Amber's assignment of writing about surrender. After 45 years of relationship with the God of the universe I had many experiences which I had characterized as surrender, but the last five years held so much skepticism and unbelief on my part that I doubted my ability to remember and separate just one example from my tangled ball of experience. "Whew! I can excuse myself from that assignment", I thought. <br /><br />But promises I'd made to myself and years of placing my heart's desires before God joined to become a quietly insistent voice that I discipline myself to add another, older perspective to the fresh accounts already told in and attached to <a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/08/journey-of-faith-friday-surrender.html">Amber's blog</a>. I went to my bookshelves to pull Catherine Marshall'sbooks and find where she had written about relinquishment in a way that had imprinted inself into both my daily experience and long term memory. <br /><br />You young women have likely heard of Catherine Marshall only, if at all, as the author of <u>Christy</u>, a winsome story of a young teacher's first years living and teaching in a southern Appalachian mountain community which was made into a movie decades ago. Those of you who are enjoying "Redeeming Love" will probably enjoy <u>Christy</u>. Catherine Marshall has written numerous easy to read non-fiction books, which I heartily recommend to you, detailing her "own search for a meaningful life, a practical faith, and a closer relationship with God." I have on my shelves: <u>To Live Again</u>, <u>Beyond Ourselves</u>, <u>Something More</u>, <u>Meeting God at Every Turn</u>, <u>The Helper</u>, and <u>Mr. Jones Meet the Master</u> (this last book was Catherine's first, a written compilation of some of her first husband's sermons, published after his death.)<br /><br />In <u>Beyond Ourselves</u>, Catherine writes about the Prayer of Relinquishment:<br /><br /><i>"I got my first glimpse of it in the fall of 1943. The illness that I have mentioned before... had kept me in bed for many months. A bevy of specialists seemed unable to help. Persistent prayer, using all the faith I could muster, had resulted in -- nothing.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>One afternoon a pamphlet was put in my hand. It was the story of a missionary who had been an invalid for eight years. Constantly she had prayed that God would make her well, so that she might do His work. Finally, worn out with futile petition, she prayed, 'All right. I give up. If you want me to be an invalid for the rest of my days, that's Your business. Anyway, I've discovered that I want You even more than I want health. You decide.' The pamphlet said that within two weeks the woman was out of bed, completely well.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>This made no sense to me. It seemed too pat. Yet I could not forget the story.....I came to the same point of abject acceptance. 'I'm tired of asking' was the burden of my prayer. 'I'm beaten, finished. God You decide what you want for me the rest of my life...' Tears flowed. I had no faith as I understood faith. I expected nothing. The gift of my sick self was made with no trace of graciousness.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>The result was as if windows had opened in heaven; as if some dynamo of heavenly power had begun flowing, flowing into me. From that moment my recovery began.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>Through this incident and others...God was trying to teach me something important about prayer.... I got only part of the message. I saw that the demanding spirit - 'God, I must have thus and so; God this is what I want you to do for me' - is not real prayer and hence receives no answer. I understood that the reason for this is that God absolutely refuses to violate our free will and ...unless self-will is voluntarily given up, even God cannot move to answer prayer."</i><br /><i><br /></i><br />Catherine Marshall relates two more accounts of a prayer of relinquishment from the lives of others, then writes:<br /><br /><i>"Larry's story and Una's have several points in common. In each case, the mother wanted the same thing desperately -- life and health for her child. Each mother commanded God to answer her prayer. While the demanding spirit had the upper hand, God seemed remote, uapproachable</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>Then, through a combination of the obvious futility of the demanding prayer plus weariness of body and spirit, the mother surrendered to the possibility of what she feared most. At that instant there came a turning point. Suddenly and inexplicably fear left and the feeling of lightness ad joy that had nothing to do with outer circumstances. This marked the turning point. From that moment the prayer began to be answered. </i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>...We know that fear blocks prayer. Fear is a barrier erected between us and God, so that His power cannot get through to us. So -- how does one get rid of fear?</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>This is not easy when the life of someone dear hangs in the balance, or when what we want most in all the world seems to be slipping away. At such times, every emotion, every passion, is tied up in the dread that what we fear most is about to come upon us. Obviously only strong measures can deal with such a powerful fear. My experience has been that trying to overcome it by turning one's thoughts to the positive or by repeating affirmations is not potent enough.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>...Jesus is saying: 'Admit the possibility of what you fear most. And lo, as you stop fleeing, as you force yourself to walk up to the fear, as you look it full in the face, never forgetting that God and His power are still the supreme reality, the fear evaporates.' Drastic? Yes. But effective.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>One point about the Prayer of Relinquishment puzzled me for many years. There seemed to be a contradiction between the Prayer of Faith and that of relinquishment. If relinquishment is real, the one praying must be willing to receive or not receive his heart's desire. But that state of mind scarcely seems to exhibit the faith that knows that one's request will be granted...</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><i>Now I believe I have the explanation...Once I thought that faith was believing this or that specific thing in my mind with never a doubt. Now I know that faith is nothing more or less than actively trusting God...."</i><br /><i><br /></i><br />Actively trusting God - and being willing to have my understanding of who He is corrected in the process - is still a curriculum that challenges me greatly even after 45 years. I have, at various times, surrendered my children, my husband, my life, my marriage, my possessions, my lifestyle, my time and our future to the GOD whom I had found to be GOODNESS and LOVE through and through. I have practiced on a regular basis the voluntary surrender of my rights modeled by Jesus and described in Philippians 2. But I have also strongly resisted surrendering MY DEMAND FOR LIFE ON MY TERMS many times - and the older I am the more I recognize the undercover resistance movement in my actions and choices of the past. <br /><i><br /></i><br /><i><br /></i>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-12119044929083158052010-08-28T17:02:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.459-07:00Unpacked, Falling Asleep, and Grateful<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf1mdnAnlHFeJBX2QjPW1653vDoVXNVyVfj0Nm5PQx6xFFt80lwMkc8DGz100bN1Y7LK8iIsW_Wnz4I1qIuI14J8z2AErvEBXMow-hzvs6bxUDK2O91_zueGRp51WNdG6IrTK3sn07Now/s1600/DSCN0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf1mdnAnlHFeJBX2QjPW1653vDoVXNVyVfj0Nm5PQx6xFFt80lwMkc8DGz100bN1Y7LK8iIsW_Wnz4I1qIuI14J8z2AErvEBXMow-hzvs6bxUDK2O91_zueGRp51WNdG6IrTK3sn07Now/s400/DSCN0938.JPG" width="400" /></a><br /><br />David, Mom and I took a red eye flight from Anchorage to Houston to Tampa last night after spending 10 days exploring Alaska, enjoying the scenery and wildlife and COOLNESS and many great meals. As ususal, I took bunches of photos - until I inadvertently smashed our camera against a table and bent the lens. This sunset view is from our lodge, north of Talkeetna.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dzXeG7u10J80SXRgKnv_gawV8DjKbVsIQgkO34rfzxmrcebP3yblQznInK_IHRIeWaiFQt5qeBtW3kWGYn6jEbIcsiRtXNVHvQbGdPEOKgmH5a-gv7NNqNdbdKz4gKD98CGgkefuSCht/s1600/DSCN1033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dzXeG7u10J80SXRgKnv_gawV8DjKbVsIQgkO34rfzxmrcebP3yblQznInK_IHRIeWaiFQt5qeBtW3kWGYn6jEbIcsiRtXNVHvQbGdPEOKgmH5a-gv7NNqNdbdKz4gKD98CGgkefuSCht/s400/DSCN1033.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />We took a flight seeing Mt. McKinley tour with Sheldon Air Service and landed on Eldridge or Etheridge glacier for a few minutes of taking it all in. A real treat.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMg1T8ryOFtUn8HUbGclcsqMwmOWgFdZ8vzdbltv4FgfLu_BIbjxazdAw3c367wNH4K6BdpTcuXZyCZVSDQNdTTKMJ6iFV3y11MjNqrwkxuBH3NsjBdqvzGZkSJL1Ry8-93XcJOjn9yKIC/s1600/DSCN1253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMg1T8ryOFtUn8HUbGclcsqMwmOWgFdZ8vzdbltv4FgfLu_BIbjxazdAw3c367wNH4K6BdpTcuXZyCZVSDQNdTTKMJ6iFV3y11MjNqrwkxuBH3NsjBdqvzGZkSJL1Ry8-93XcJOjn9yKIC/s400/DSCN1253.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Mom and I stopped to examine so many different kinds of lichen and mushrooms whenever we were out walking. I have no idea what this type is or even if it IS lichen or mushroom...these were like flexible rubber cups.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUR_jroI8FFd2GjayI6wIdneae6RWZE_69U4lIrD-6OCQmclBLoGYfXSF9Tp5L5Z6wUAdLZacRlKAV79ONed_3WmB6CelbODpQIClXFGZBDK_wMiDcDw-eYs0KGc4NSBB9Gg366MZ6tE1/s1600/DSCN1351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUR_jroI8FFd2GjayI6wIdneae6RWZE_69U4lIrD-6OCQmclBLoGYfXSF9Tp5L5Z6wUAdLZacRlKAV79ONed_3WmB6CelbODpQIClXFGZBDK_wMiDcDw-eYs0KGc4NSBB9Gg366MZ6tE1/s400/DSCN1351.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />These guys/gals were really enjoying their lazy afternoon of sunning in Resurrection Bay/Kenai Fjords.<br /><br />I'll try to post some more photos on the Temple site later. No sleep last night...must turn in soon.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-40965197371561254252010-08-09T05:21:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.475-07:00Multitude Monday: Tasting Joy<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The overcast morning with periodic sprinkles, spits, and spasms of rain made me reconsider a solitary bike ride to the beach. While the gray sky and light rain part are perfect for the soul that is drying around the edges and feeling the need for outdoor solitude, the spasms of rain are not only uncomfortable but also downright dangerous to a cyclist on a road where drivers are already often more engrossed with the scenery than the bike lane occupant on their right. </span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So instead, after a brief survey of the back yard I grabbed garden gloves and branch cutters, climbed the ladder and tackled the overgrown bougainvillea. A few minutes of battling physical thorns should provide the space my mind needed to unkink and stretch....and savor gratitude moments, tasting the joy once again :</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">36. for the empty, lid-less plastic jar near the front door. signalling much recent bug and lizard catching activity</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">37. for the 3 year old suddenly dashing out the front door and who, when questioned, announces "I'm going to let the lizard go so he won't die"....</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yeqMhQlMh_w1TxPNMpCvikztFaUZZCx1yqxq1iv83CyF6EMOI6QVc4w9FwMSwqR7fuoZvk1HcVUcDaAaXdfbjykNw89REKd7tYGqhtUXjtCwzzE09XqaEfSW6PpqNOsO_qvL7zCtaAxi/s1600/DSCN0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yeqMhQlMh_w1TxPNMpCvikztFaUZZCx1yqxq1iv83CyF6EMOI6QVc4w9FwMSwqR7fuoZvk1HcVUcDaAaXdfbjykNw89REKd7tYGqhtUXjtCwzzE09XqaEfSW6PpqNOsO_qvL7zCtaAxi/s400/DSCN0776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">38. for the sunset so wide both in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">color range and height that I had difficulty keeping my eyes facing forward, eastward on the road in front of me, instead of staring in my rear view mirror</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">39. for the gift of a morning walk in the park accompanied by sunlight AND a gentle rain</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">40. for the 5 year old boy so entranced by the stories and people of The Chronicles of Narnia that he peppers his conversation with character exploits and Narnia trivia questions</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjU_0n1re1Boa5w5npWqr8H9AVKckX88RPxM4XoYK1VfonUP3dbXD5ytij6cNUojLKPPX0oqtuBQHEqmPlM3sPZ6aGL41B4Eo7MvKhEiqVSVwZ5WPb8tlFQijPVvF7RS6qPf0MCukKfwM/s1600/DSCN0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjU_0n1re1Boa5w5npWqr8H9AVKckX88RPxM4XoYK1VfonUP3dbXD5ytij6cNUojLKPPX0oqtuBQHEqmPlM3sPZ6aGL41B4Eo7MvKhEiqVSVwZ5WPb8tlFQijPVvF7RS6qPf0MCukKfwM/s400/DSCN0849.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4426004275791108566&postID=4393294596862847966" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">41. for the severely raw throat I garnered as consequence of screaming in rage at my husband of 35 years (I am all for mining the gold of natural consequences - in my life or others)</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">42. for a reliable, safe, "kiwi green" car to drive </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">43. with effective A/C </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">44. and a bike rack on top</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">45. and flexible seating and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">storage </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">46. and plastic, not carpeted floors, </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">47. for vacuuming out </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">sand from the beach that stuck to small feet</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">47. after a morning of play at beach and park</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">48. for the playground merry-go-round - an "old-time" treasure </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">49. amidst challenging play structures</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">50. and climbing rocks</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">51. on a playground shaded by moss-covered oaks</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">52. peopled by active day-campers playing capture the flag</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">53. and kind middle school girls who don't retreat from the "social strange-ness" of P,</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">54. who invite her to conversation and a moment of inclusion.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">55. for sauteed spinach </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">56. and portobello mushrooms</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">57. and onions and ham</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">58. folded into egg and white omelet </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">59. with swiss and fat-free feta cheese</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">60. for a "savor every bite" sunday morning breakfast</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">61. for 4 month old boy who now snuggles up close, wrapping his arms so his hands grip the sides of my chest </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">62. and who stays quietly content wrapped just so, while I sway on the couch or sit on the chair</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">63. his eyes open, peacefully gazing at mother and father</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">64. or eyelids drooping, heavy with sleep</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">65. the coos, chortles, and quiet "conversation" of this same boy with his mother and father</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckWCdt0ECS_PEFffXrATT2fWV_39_Fm1C5HGuLn75d3S72oD5Ib7xp-6eaKnI_GwlpvPArpDT6PqT3B6wj0Z_w5T3H0gqYO6kArolJOP58gFgnJLhzIV6pr1f60KfUWCEft-5Z-zkbuEC/s1600/DSCN0808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckWCdt0ECS_PEFffXrATT2fWV_39_Fm1C5HGuLn75d3S72oD5Ib7xp-6eaKnI_GwlpvPArpDT6PqT3B6wj0Z_w5T3H0gqYO6kArolJOP58gFgnJLhzIV6pr1f60KfUWCEft-5Z-zkbuEC/s640/DSCN0808.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">66. his mimicry of their speech so obvious, so intent</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">67. for this repeated miracle lesson about the development of speech</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">68. and how we are all formed and shaped by our relationships, within family</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">69. for the wonderfully consistent love and provision and nurture my parents gave me</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">70. and its doorway to healthy personality and trust in a God who Loves</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-58387976529643604672010-08-04T11:28:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.490-07:00Where in the World...? One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kqur2JrXCd-vOKZqdbZ-cTdMtdxlMYSBjc1F66az4x-1fsFjdGCXdUZj3NPwjBK6tiPVchvSmGE-nZ2Wb4LKoU8FScKwuxoFQ-0HaeThG3wgj8rAXX92O_OSRyW-LGtyVmlm2irK6sEy/s1600/DSCN0864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kqur2JrXCd-vOKZqdbZ-cTdMtdxlMYSBjc1F66az4x-1fsFjdGCXdUZj3NPwjBK6tiPVchvSmGE-nZ2Wb4LKoU8FScKwuxoFQ-0HaeThG3wgj8rAXX92O_OSRyW-LGtyVmlm2irK6sEy/s640/DSCN0864.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hide and seek is a popular game with our grandchildren. Reading - or more accurately "studying" Richard Scarry books (or other books illustrated with a great deal of detail that enhance learning about our world) is a past-time loved as much by Isaac and Eli as it was by their dad. Instead of simply reading the story, the adult reader finds tiny details in the story for the child to search for - like "where's the pickle on this page?" or "who can find someone who is spilling something?"</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I thought it might be fun to play another blog game called "Where in the world is Sandy's camera?" I will post several pictures without telling you where they were taken. You post a comment with your guess. If a few guesses come in but they are incorrect, I will give a hint or hints as needed. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbRGMFH4EBgaGkyxNJToMmfQ4m1X78uwpLicVBKpzx1UgMlpAiFubk8xEjhwkMRSobvUOgy6dBW3V4zA7yC7AWTKwxk45ifxizNw3B4e3-W2qGuB91ow7aVVbECAfI_wxufeYoMLTz14o/s1600/DSCN0690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbRGMFH4EBgaGkyxNJToMmfQ4m1X78uwpLicVBKpzx1UgMlpAiFubk8xEjhwkMRSobvUOgy6dBW3V4zA7yC7AWTKwxk45ifxizNw3B4e3-W2qGuB91ow7aVVbECAfI_wxufeYoMLTz14o/s640/DSCN0690.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyone may guess, but I will require more detailed answers from those who live in the area where the photos are taken. If we have fun with the game, perhaps I'll try posting the gps coordinates with the answers so you can find the exact spot on google earth or attach a linky tool for blog readers to post their own photos for us to identify.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2J80UMuF26A1BH1CcxAxc08MAGYsLu8Xk_0ruZcR1W6Td9ASb0Ig9TDVt0DqlgUifWmcMHRDl3UnzPboPNnmKIs9mpLG5t8w7BCQy6E5C3xYdVbQCkgCsmVuC3y8v-ETWaBAGKRNsIn1/s1600/DSCN0437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2J80UMuF26A1BH1CcxAxc08MAGYsLu8Xk_0ruZcR1W6Td9ASb0Ig9TDVt0DqlgUifWmcMHRDl3UnzPboPNnmKIs9mpLG5t8w7BCQy6E5C3xYdVbQCkgCsmVuC3y8v-ETWaBAGKRNsIn1/s640/DSCN0437.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will try to post a variety of photo challenges, with some from other locales and some that have already been identified in this or other blogs. Ok, here are your first three to guess - #s 1-1, 1-2, 1-3. Questions are allowed. Have fun!</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8097659170454732786.post-65871339300417697582010-08-02T08:59:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:32:44.499-07:00Seasons of Service<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><center><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i765.photobucket.com/albums/xx298/ambo14/journeyoffaithfriday2-2.gif" /></a></center></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Elisabeth Elliott's book, "These Strange Ashes", about her first year of missionary service, has stayed with me for many years after I read it. Elisabeth spent her first term of service living with "an unreached tribe" attempting to codify their spoken language into a written language for purposes of fostering literacy and translation of the Bible into their tongue. After more than a year of working diligently on the project ALL her language work was irretrievably lost.</span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was already familiar with the story Elliott told in her most well-known book, "Through Gates of Splendor" about the murder of her husband, Jim Elliott, and several other men, as they attempted to befriend a remote tribe of people, and her subsequent story of remaining for many years, with her children, to continue to get to know that tribe of people and introduce them to Jesus Christ. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is not difficult to call the loss of the young husbands and fathers a sacrificial service that resulted in great blessing when one looks through the window provided by the results of her subsequent years of friendship with and service to the tribe. But "These Strange Ashes" is Elisabeth's reflection on the meaning and purpose of the loss of her entire year of literacy work. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't remember whether a storm or fire or something else destroyed her work, but I do remember that her story and her reflection left me feeling unsettled and dissatisfied. I wanted life to be explainable if not predictable, and to be able to clearly see and name God's movement and purposes in our lives.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the past few years I've spent an inordinate amount of time reflecting on the people, motivations, and results of my four decades of service to God and "the bride of Christ", the church, looking for possible purpose and meaning. I have been sifting fragile ashes from one hand to the other, examining what remains. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I began this blog in the middle of that reflective season, and the blog title, "These Three Remain" hints both of my struggle to make meaning of the unknowable and my hope, however faint at that time, that faith, hope, and love are truly cornerstones of life that remain when all else fades away.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So </span><a href="http://ambocullum.blogspot.com/2010/07/journey-of-faith-friday-ministry.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Amber's invitation</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> to reflect on and write about a season of service or influencing people and blessing or benefit that may have come to us through or as a result of that service has really challenged me as I've sifted the ashes of my service through my fingers. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Personality assessments" I've taken over the years have made me realize that "influencing others" has been a primary motivation most of my life - it's a very strong thread in my personality, and it shows itself in my history of church service activities which focused far more on teaching and mentoring than on preparing meals, cleaning homes, or mowing lawns. I did all those things and more as both a "stay-at-home" and working wife and mother, but I didn't routinely help people outside my family in those ways. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I grew up in small church, so I was put to work at a young age: helping with a weekly children's program, and annual summer vacation bible school, teaching a 3rd grade Sunday School class, singing in the choir, leading youth group activities, counseling at summer church camps, teaching sunday school to a wonderful group of middle schoolers while in college, and participating in community evangelistic campaigns.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Later, immersed in a much larger home church, I found myself discipling women on an informal individual and group basis as I continued in the church-structured activities of teaching sunday school (7th grade girls, then later 4 year old children ), teaching the Bible in vacation bible school each summer and writing and leading interdenominational women's bible studies in the community. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took an active role in a local women's retreat ministry for about a decade, and though I found myself locked out of the teaching structure of the church (another story for another time) I gave myself to serving in the children's wednesday night program, singing in the choir, chaperoning field and camping trips, counseling at youth camp, and praying on a very regular basis for my church's leaders, people, and programs.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I was locked out of the teaching leadership structure after 20 years of teaching, I turned to intercessory prayer (praying for and on behalf of others) as an alternate avenue of "using my life to influence others for God and Truth". </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At first I prayed mostly for my church, on my knees in the tiny prayer room or face down in the sanctuary on weekdays, and tucked away in a less traveled hallway on Sunday mornings. After awhile, I began meeting regularly with others for the purpose of prayer; sometimes to support interdenominational organizations and efforts in the community, other times to encourage individuals in their prayer life. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took to "prayer- walking" not only on my mega church and christian school campus but also in neighborhoods and on busy city streets in my community, often bringing partners along to walk and pray with me for God's blessing for the people, neighborhoods, churches and cities through which we walked. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For several years when I did not have to work outside the home, I prayed with someone, morning and afternoon, five days a week. I heartily believed God would intervene in the affairs of men and influence lives as a result of our prayers.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trying to complete the many "faith assignments" I felt God had for me was usually intuitively and intellectually fulfilling but it was also very challenging emotionally. At times I risked damage to my reputation or rejection and loss of treasured relationships in order to pursue "the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord" (Phil 3:8). </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For as long as I can remember I have had a major pride problem. During the years of intense prayer and mentoring activities, I battled pride on a daily basis, asking God to root it out in me, expose it and help me to confess it to others and turn from it. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So it may be no coincidence that looking back these past few years at the "results" of my decades of service has seemed more an act of "sifting through ashes" than rejoicing over visible results. For quite a few months I felt like my decades of service to "the church" had been a colossal mis-use of my time and resources. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During this season of my life of withdrawal from "church" activities, I have focused on giving simple life-sustaining gifts to my family: preparing many nourishing meals, caring for children, painting and planting, and offering stressed and weary parents moments of respite and a welcoming home where each person is accepted, respected and loved. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've returned with new emphasis to this service that is so very physical and largely restricted to my family mostly because we simply needed it to survive and overcome the challenges we faced, and also because it provided a "quiet" backdrop of work for me to address the unanswered questions, heartache and angst about God and the church which occupied such a large portion of my heart and mind. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I have taken up this towel, I've experienced an unexpected new joy and satisfaction in planning and preparing appealing, wholesome meals as well as surprise that a meal that takes 5 hours or more to prepare will often be dished out and consumed by 8-12 people in less than 15 minutes. I've experienced a body weariness that clamors for rest long before the day is done, and fed my appetite for learning as I've devoured books and lectures about nutrition, fitness, the brain, and personality development.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In order to serve my family in this way, I've exchanged personal activities and goals I'd looked forward to accomplishing during this "empty nest" season for more cooking and cleaning and childcare.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I've also tasted recurring delight as I experience anew the wondrous world with and through my grandchildren; reading marvelous books, cooking, baking, working and laughing together; exploring the great outdoors and its many inhabitants in yard, park, and beach; getting messy with mud and paint and glue, playing every ball game imaginable, struggling to communicate with my "special needs" granddaughter, and answering 387 questions a day.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize that I've been breaking the commonly taught rules for spiritual health by refusing involvement in the "messy Christianity" within the organized church during these recent years. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize with a clarity I lacked in my younger years just how far I am from loving others as God loves. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But after 35 years of intensive service to the organized church, investing my energy, gifts and love in that community (and the world through my intercessory prayer and our financial giving), I am content with this towel and this bowl for now. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I do not shy from truthful answers or cringe in guilt when I face the questions and responses from extended family and friends about my lack of involement in the organized church. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For this season, my "family church" has provided more than enough opportunity to practice forgiveness and model imperfection, more than enough pain to stretch my heart, more than enough heartache to keep me on my knees crying out for mercy and grace, and more than enough joy and blessing to keep me lifting my voice in praise to the God who is Love.</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05877705512670876087noreply@blogger.com1