tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29117715703900252272024-03-08T10:35:40.138-06:00Buildin' Monuments to my GodTonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-571453681070856092015-09-28T09:27:00.001-05:002015-09-28T09:27:28.089-05:00
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mountains. I’ve been pondering them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems a little strange, given that I live in
Alabama where we are notoriously mountain deficient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My little hometown, nestled in the foothills
of the Appalachians, is located in the “shadow” of Mt. Cheaha – Alabama’s
highest point at 2,407 feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As far as
mountains go, ours is not a huge one. I’ve never seen a really huge mountain
that I can recall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s on my bucket
list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not really geographical mountains that I’ve been
pondering, though, which makes my pondering them seem a little less
strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mountains in Scripture and in the life of the Christ follower
– they are everywhere; places of refuge, indicators of the Presence and
Activity of God, places of Holiness, and of Battle; Victory, Defeat,
Revelation, Life, and Death. They are blessed as holy sanctuaries, and cursed
as the Anger of God fell. The Law was given upon a mountain, even while His
people sinned in its shadow. They are metaphors for troubled times, and
monuments to the redeeming Power of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As Christians, we experience different kinds of mountains –
those that are meant to be cast into the sea, and those that are meant to be
climbed. But how does one tell the difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m glad you asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been
pondering that as well, and have come to this conclusion:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happens when you speak to it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happens when you exercise your authority
in Christ, and speak to that mountain as Jesus instructed in Mark 11:23, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I tell you the truth, you can say to this
mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen.
But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart.”? </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does your mountain move?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
start climbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks like
I’m saying that Jesus got it wrong, that he should have said “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sometimes</i> it will happen”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not saying that at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus said it, I believe it, and that settles
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I am saying, however, is that
sometimes we have to climb a mountain to experience the mountain top. It doesn’t
mean you don’t have enough faith to see your mountain move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means God has a different plan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are some circumstances in life that God
would rather us go through than go around – and it is for our benefit that
sometimes we must climb a mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
never wastes a hurt, or a difficult situation, or a fear. He uses these life
events to teach us so many things – strength, trust, perseverance, hope,
determination (et cetera – as far as the eye can see). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Imagine the way that a climber ascends a mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t even begin to comprehend the physical,
emotional, and psychological endurance it requires to reach the top of a giant
mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I can imagine the
elevation elation that climber feels when he reaches the mountain top! It is
the same with the overcoming Believer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Climbing our mountains, ascending from the valleys is not easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes supernatural effort, faith, dogged
determination, and indefatigable trust that God won’t let us fall – and an
integral knowing if we do slip, He will catch us. The physical, emotional, and
psychological endurance required is astronomical – but the spiritual benefit is
indescribable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have you ever been on the mountain top?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever faced a giant and watched it fall?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure you have. We all have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some are bigger than others. Doesn’t matter
the size of your mountain. If you climbed it, you’ve experienced the mountain
top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 2,407 feet, Mt. Cheaha is small
compared to other mountains – but I sure wouldn’t try to climb it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if I went temporarily insane and did give
it a shot, and IF I reached the top without dying, I would sure enough have a
mountain top experience there at Alabama’s highest point. (Entre nous, I
imagine my mountain top experience would consist of paramedics and oxygen….) I
would have learned many lessons on the way up the mountain – trust my ropes,
find strong hand and foot holds and hang on tight, rest along the way, take in
nourishment, drink the water, be courageous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(OK, Mt. Cheaha isn’t THAT kind of a mountain – there’s a lovely paved
road that goes all the way to the top, frequented by hikers and bicyclists. You
get the picture, though, no?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mountains in our lives are no different, and the lessons
cross over – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trust my rope</i> - I will
trust Jesus whether He casts my mountain into the sea, or asks me to join Him
for a climb; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">find strong hand and foot
holds and hang on tigh</i>t – pray, pray, pray, pray. It is our source of
strength – pray, declare imminent victory even when it seems a long way off, worship
the One Who climbs with you and is waiting at the top to give you more of
Himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rest along the way</i> –
sometimes it’s enough to rest in His Presence and just wait for your second
wind; He is faithful to give it. Remember, He wants you to reach the top
because He has good things for you there. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Take
in nourishment</i> – immerse yourself in the Word of God. Seek out and write
down Scriptures that speak to your situation or mindset and declare them
(boldly, confidently – His Word is LIVING and ACTIVE. Use it!) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Drink the water</i> – the Presence of Holy
Spirit. He is there to strengthen and comfort you. Drink. Huge draughts of Holy
Water. Drink Him in. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Be courageous</i> –
I promise you that you can do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nothing is too big for you and God together to handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t have to feel courageous – you just
have to keep climbing and not give up in defeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the definition of courage – being afraid
but doing it anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep climbing, keep
going - look up! There’s a mountain top waiting, and the God of the Mountain is
there! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I look up to the mountains
– does my help come from there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My help
comes from the Lord, Who made Heaven and Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He will not let you stumble; the One Who watches over you will not
slumber. Indeed, He Who watches over Israel never slumbers or sleeps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lord Himself watches over you! The Lord
stands beside you as your protective Shade. The sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lord keeps
you from all harm and watches over your life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.”
Psalm 121, NLT<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-59893721185431799412015-09-11T21:44:00.001-05:002015-09-11T21:44:03.912-05:00
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought about it today - what I was doing on the day that terrorists
attacked this great Nation. Just like you, I remember every detail of that day.
Two major life events personally, eclipsed by this National horror on Sept. 11,
2001. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought about writing it all down, and telling you where I was that
day, the heartbreak we were facing, even before the first flight’s wheels left
the tarmac.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Instead, I want to tell you where I was NOT that day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT aboard American Airlines Flight 11 when it crashed into the
North Tower of The World Trade Center, carrying a crew of 11, and 76
passengers. Five evil men took the lives of the innocent men, women, and
children who were aboard American Airlines Flight 11.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT aboard United Airlines Flight 175 when it crashed into the
South Tower of the World Trade Center, carrying a crew of 9, and 51
passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five evil men took the lives
of the innocent men, women, and children who were aboard United Airlines Flight
175.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT aboard American Airlines Flight 77 when it crashed into the
Pentagon, carrying a crew of 6, and 53 passengers. Five evil men took the lives
of the innocent men, women, and children who were aboard American Airlines
Flight 77.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT aboard United Airlines Flight 93 when it crashed into a
field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, carrying a crew of 7, and 33 brave
passengers who attempted to regain control of the airplane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four evil men took the lives of the innocent
men, women, and children who were aboard United Airlines Flight 93.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s roll!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT beginning my work day in the World Trade Center, or in the
Pentagon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was NOT trapped in the upper
floors of these mammoth towers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did
NOT leap to my death, but almost 200 innocent people did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was NOT a first responder, rushing into the
unknown, risking my own life in an effort to save others. I was NOT on the
telephone, listening to the voice of my loved one, facing certain death,
reassuring, speaking words of love to me for the last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was NOT running, covered in ash, breathing
toxic air, fleeing the crushing weight of falling debris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not kiss my family goodbye that morning
with a promise to see them at dinner, unaware that I would be forced to break
that promise by 19 evil men. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was not one of 2,977 innocent men, women, and children who died that
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Different nationalities, different races, different ideologies,
different faiths, different hearts, different minds – but all, precious,
valuable, loved, and all lost to us because of the hatred of evil men.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tuesday, September 11, 2001 would have been a pretty rotten day for my
family and me, even if those 19 evil men had never boarded 4 airplanes. But, I
didn’t lose my life that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My life
was changed, but I woke up on Wednesday, September 12.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was given, what so many – TOO many – had
lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A future. So, I remember them. We
cannot let them become brief mentions in a history book, faceless numbers in
the recordings of “Worst Ever” events. We cannot let them pass into the past,
vaguely remembered, and mourned by only the loved ones they left behind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We must remember. They deserve our remembrance. Their families deserve
our unity, mourning with them for the tomorrows that were stolen from them by
evil men. Their children deserve our compassion, longing with them for the
loving guidance of a parent, taken too soon by evil men. Their mothers,
fathers, siblings, spouses ache every day for the one ripped away; they deserve
our unanimity on this day. But not just this day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Folks, look around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look at
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are we doing? What have we
become?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>14 years ago, we were
indivisible – ONE NATION – brothers and sisters. There were no dividing lines
based on color, lifestyle, religion…Evil had come to us, and we stood together
against it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, we’re murdering our
first responders – the extraordinary heroes who run TOWARD disaster and evil to
protect and serve us. Today, we’re murdering our children; we’re murdering each
other. Today, we hate each other, we’re intolerant of each other – we’re
becoming no different from the 19 evil men who brought terror to America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have forgotten, and we should be
ashamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2,977 lives lost brought this country briefly to its knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rose up as one, united and
determined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many stolen lives will
it take before we finally see each other the way we did on September 12, 2001? We
have become what we stood against – murderers, filled with hatred. We need not
fear ISIS. We need not fear another attack on U.S. soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re destroying each other from within;
terrorists need not put forth any effort. We are doing their jobs for them –
one life at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was NOT one of 2,977 people who died a horrific death that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither were you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, what are you going to do about it? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ve forgotten and we must remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">God bless America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>America,
bless God.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-65990161869301722522015-08-28T09:15:00.001-05:002015-08-28T09:15:49.241-05:00
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The R word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Retarded.
I hate the R word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate when it is
directed at someone in humor – “Hahahaha! You’re so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">retarded!</i>”. I hate when it is directed at someone in cruelty – “Are
you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">retarded</i>?”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I. hate. that. word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yesterday, my boy was on the bus headed home from school,
and some smart-mouthed wildling on the bus asked him, “Are you retarded?”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My boy is NOT retarded – as a matter of fact,
he clearly SOARS in intelligence far and away above the hellion that asked the
question. Intelligence would have looked beyond any differences that may still
be detectable in my boy to find the awesomely cool, funny, and enjoyable young
man that he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intelligence would have
recognized that sometimes what makes a person different is exactly what makes
them amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, my boy isn’t
cruel – he would never have asked another student such a question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has never used the R word against another
person. He would never reject another person. He doesn’t see differences – he sees
people and knows that we’re ALL different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He doesn’t follow the crowd, doesn’t get caught up in trends, doesn’t
rebel against authority because it’s “cool”, doesn’t disrespect his teachers,
parents, bus driver, other students, or anyone else with whom he
interacts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My boy is kind, gentle,
loving, empathetic, generous, entertaining, outgoing, helpful, friendly, and
GOOD. My boy is all that is good and right in this world that’s rapidly going
crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s a true friend when true
friends are hard to find.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bus brat
will never know all these things, however, because he only sees an opportunity
to lash out, to bully, to speak hurtful words in an attempt to be “funny” to
the other wildlings around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My boy told me about the incident, and I was livid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still livid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to jump in my car and drive to the
house where my boy indicates the wildling lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to go, knock on the door, and tell his
parents that they’re raising a hellion, slap the smirk off the offending mouth
and tell him that his cruelty and attempt at humor has blinded him to the
opportunity to know an amazing person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
want to shame his parents. I want them all to feel the same pain that my boy felt
– that I feel. I want to return cruelty for cruelty. It’s human nature blended
with Mama Bear rage – I was ready to kick butt and take names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, my boy….my amazing, wonderful boy…said,
“But, he apologized.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And that was it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right
there, in three words, my boy demonstrated the Love and Forgiveness of Christ.
I have no doubt the words still sting him – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but,
he apologized.</i> So, we have to forgive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can I be honest and say that I don’t WANT to forgive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to write a scathing letter to school
administration, have the boy yanked from the bus and disciplined, reprimand the
bus driver for allowing hate-filled words to be uttered on his bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s illogical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t matter; I’m
a Mom and I want justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But, he apologized.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, to have a heart like my boy – that doesn’t bear grudges,
that readily forgives, gives a zillion second chances, and then starts over on
third chances when the seconds run out. 70 x 7 fleshed out by a boy who sees
life through different eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world
would be a beautiful place if there were more eyes and hearts like his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be a better person were I more like
he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny, how as parents we watch
our children and look for ourselves in them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More often, I find myself watching him and looking for him in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is my teacher, more than I’ve ever been
his. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, I’ll step back from my agenda of retribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll wait to see what the future bus rides
bring – perhaps a friendship, perhaps more cruel words. It remains to be seen
how this will play out in the coming days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If a friendship grows, I’ll be glad I held my tongue and accepted my son’s
words, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But, he apologized.”</i> If more
cruelty comes, then I’ve got more ammunition to use in my scathing letter – and
perhaps a good defense should I resort to mayhem. Mama Mayhem. It has a certain
ring to it. I like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can call me
that. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-75372342829709263042015-08-12T23:44:00.002-05:002015-08-12T23:44:43.346-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last First Day of School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Words that make the faces of shiny new high school seniors beam with joy
and anticipation…and make the worry-worn and weary faces of their mothers
pucker with barely contained tears - commingled sorrow and pride. Today was
that day for my youngest son – and for me. He is my baby, all 6’3” of him – in my
mind and heart, still a hip-high Kindergartener walking into the school,
slightly ahead of me – and then RUNNING into the waiting arms of a beloved
Speech & Language Therapist, leaving Mommy to walk, solo, the remaining
distance to his first classroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found
him there, the Traitor, already settled in a desk with bright, colorful things
taped to the desktop to draw his attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember standing, not quite certain of what to do next…I hadn’t
expected this; I hadn’t expected him to not need me that day - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of all days</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I needed him to need me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worry,
sorrow, and pride fought for control of my emotions. A brief word with his
wonderful teacher, aide, and SLT; a kiss & hug from my guy and I was on my
way out – tears winning the war with my eyelids and dripping from my lashes, all
hopes of a dignified, stalwart exit dashed as I hurried, head bent to hide my failed
attempt to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> cry, to the door and
to my waiting Jeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast forward – LITERALLY! We went through a time warp or
something! – a dozen years later to today. Last First Day of School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hip-high baby is now a towering Gigantor,
with a quick wit, amazing talent, and a sharp, intelligent mind who can match
his Mom’s (no longer Mommy; I graduated to “Mom” somewhere along the way)
sarcastic tongue lash for lash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drove
him to school, asking questions along the way – “Do you have your pens?” “Do
you have your house key?” “Is your phone charged?” “Do you know where your
first class is?” “Are you sure this is where I need to drop you off?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each question answered in a tone increasingly
frustrated until finally, “Mom. I’ve got this.” brought a halt to my questions.
I can’t help it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I needed him to need me, just one more time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>A quick air kiss, “Thanks, Mom. I love
you.” and he was out the door, walking the confident, sure walk of the upperclassman
toward the building to begin his Senior year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I drove away, not daring to look over my shoulder, lest I embarrass him.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, I know he needs me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All boys need their Mom – no matter their age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that there are lessons to be taught,
corrections to be made, comfort to be offered, wisdom to be shared – my work
isn’t done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will need me for a while
yet – and then, when he no longer <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needs</i>
me, it is my prayer that he will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>
me to have a supporting role in his life…in the background, blended in to
remain unobtrusive, cheering, encouraging, advising – coach, friend, Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ours is a relationship that is as unique, different,
and wonderful as he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it
always will be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That makes me happy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tonight, on the eve of his Last <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Second</i> Day of School, I finally told him the story of his diagnosis
with autism. Oh, he knew of the diagnosis, but I’d never taken the time to tell
him the story. I told him of the questions and concerns that led me to request
a referral from his doctor. I told him of the initial diagnosis of a severe
language delay, and ultimately, of the diagnosis of autism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him of the school system’s request to
send him to an autism classroom at another school in another district and how I
had refused and fought for his placement in our home district, in a general
education classroom, with an aide, because I REFUSED to just give in to autism.
I refused to give up on him. I told him how proud I am of him and how far he
has come; how I know there is nothing that he cannot accomplish, no dream he
can’t reach because he is an overcomer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His eyes shone with tears. I asked him not to cry – his story
is a happy one; it is a story of victory! He briefly excused himself to blow
his nose, then he returned to my side to thank me for fighting for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For not giving up on him. I had mistaken his
tears for sadness; they were tears of gratitude. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He thanked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hero thanked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Senior year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Class of
2016.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>8 months until graduation. 279
days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can do this. I’ll be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll both be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Run, Daniel, Run!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hebrews 12:1. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-69513209111516537902015-05-14T08:37:00.001-05:002015-05-14T08:37:47.607-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Don’t you know who
you are? What’s been done for you? You are more than the choices that you’ve
made, you are more than the sum of your past mistakes, you are more than the
problems you create, you’ve been remade.” ~ You Are More, Tenth Avenue North<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was my earworm this morning when my alarm awakened
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This song, repeating through my head,
and I realized it had been there all night. Every time I would wake up to roll
over, or uncover (hot flashes, don’t you know..) or re-cover (they don’t last
forever..), there it was, scrolling through my brain like a marquee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have it in my music on my phone, but I’m
not sure when I heard it last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Apparently, it had wriggled its way into my heart and mind in order to show
up in my dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After I was awake enough to fully realize it was there, I
began to ponder the words more closely, searching out the lyrics in order to
read them over several times (how I miss lyrics inside of CD jackets!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Check this out: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“ ’Cause
this is not about what you’ve done, but what’s been done for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not about where you’ve been, but
where your brokenness brings you to. This is not about what you feel but what
He felt to forgive you, and what He felt to make you loved.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wow. That makes my heart smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so thankful for His Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s something so freeing in the
realization that it doesn’t matter what I do – or don’t do, doesn’t matter how
I look, feel, or what I weigh. Bad hair days, good hair days, rattled,
frustrated, busy, energized or tired, irritable (did I mention hot flashes?),
or silly and happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The things that
affect us on a daily basis, causing changes in mood or emotions; our choices,
decisions, failures, successes – none of those things change HIM. None of those
things change His vast Love for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
completely life-giving!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes, I can be a bit on the irrational side – I’m “of
an age” where these things begin to happen…sometimes, I take it out on my
family, and they get ill with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who
can blame them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re right – they don’t
deserve to bear the brunt of my mood swings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I’m learning to keep my mouth shut rather than allowing frustration
over minor things to spew out of it. Thank You, Lord, for Grace.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so thankful that God isn’t moved by my
irrationalness (yes, it’s a word..kinda ugly, ain’t it?). It makes my heart
soar to realize that He still looks on me kindly, with Love that I cannot
comprehend and Mercy that I cannot outrun. Jesus saw the ugly mess that I can
sometimes be before He ever went to the Cross – loved me anyway, and He carried
it there for me so that I could sit here on this laptop and type out my
feelings for you to read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can be hard on myself. I bet you can, too (on yourself,
not me...well maybe me, too?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of
us are our own worst critics, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thankful, thankful, THANK-FULL that the weight of regrets, missteps, and
failures don’t define me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my
self-talk turns to the “I can’t believe you did that – so STUPID.” I’m beyond
thankful that His Voice tells me that I’m enough – that He loves me anyway –
despite it, through it, above it, I am loved. So are you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immeasurably, vastly, immensely, enormously,
exceedingly, extremely, greatly, hugely, mightily, tremendously, especially,
exceptionally, powerfully, remarkably, abundantly, incalculably, incomparably,
incredibly, intensely, supremely, surpassingly, deeply, eminently,
extraordinarily, profoundly, acutely, astonishingly, dearly, decidedly,
emphatically, particularly, truly, wonderfully – you are LOVED by the Ancient
One, the King of kings and Lord of lords.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Period.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is finished,
done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(and yes – I pulled out my
thesaurus for that..)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See each one of
those words up there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I challenge you to
do this:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Read them each, individually,
out loud, followed by the words: I am loved by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(For example – Immeasurably, I am loved by
God. And so forth through the entire list.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Go ahead. Do it now. I’ll wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finished?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How special
are you?!?!?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Want me to get my thesaurus out again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You get the picture, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we’re
loved like that by the very God Who created us – what on earth should ever make
us feel less?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing. On. Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know about you, but that makes me want to sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe I will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have a great day, friends!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-45003979091104956682015-05-09T10:40:00.001-05:002015-05-09T10:40:52.974-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Y’all, my heart is so heavy this Mother’s Day weekend. As a
mother, this weekend always makes me reflect on the things of motherhood – did I
do a good job raising my boys? Will their memories of their childhood be
pleasant ones?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will they remember me
with an abundance of wonderful memories when I make my journey Home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know – standard Mom fare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, today, my heart is heavy for mothers that I do not
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This week, I watched the tragedy
of three families unfold before me; I am wounded for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During the first part of the week, I was selected to sit as
a juror on the trial of a young man who had inadvertently, but recklessly,
caused the death of a young woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
much as my heart wanted to display the Grace and Mercy of God to him, I had to
weigh only the evidence and cast my vote on that alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I left that courtroom after the verdict
was rendered and the young man led away in handcuffs, I had to walk past two
grieving families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young woman’s
mother stepped forward, hugging a photograph of her beautiful daughter to thank
me even as the young man’s family glared with tears in their eyes; my heart
broke in two. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no winners here
– in this situation, everyone loses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without
speaking, selfishly without offering words of comfort, I ducked my head,
allowing my hair to fall in front of my face to hide my tears, pausing only
briefly to offer a weak nod to her, and fled the courtroom. I could not face
their pain in the midst of my own. I am thankful that Jesus is our Righteous
Judge, and our Advocate before the Father; I, too, would stand convicted
without His Intercession on my behalf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My prayer is that
this young man, a precious creation of God regardless of his behavior and
choices, comes to encounter the Living God and the transforming power of His
Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray that the families of these
children – to me, they are children – find a place of peace, forgiveness, and
hope in Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never
forget them or their beloved children, and I will always, always pray for them.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Later in the week, my youngest son came home from school carrying
the news that a classmate’s younger sister - 14 years old - had taken her own
life as a result of bullying at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t even have the words to describe the depth of the grief it placed
in my heart. This poor girl…and her poor family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t even begin to imagine their
pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw her picture on social media –
she was beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What words could have
been spoken and absorbed into her spirit to cause her to believe she wasn’t
worthy of life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, sweet child of God,
their words do not define you; His Word says you were fearfully and wonderfully
made, precious and honored in His Sight – a child of the One True King.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so sorry that you were hurt; I’m so
sorry that you doubted your beauty and your worth. My sincere hope is that
those whose words so wounded you will come forward, repent before the Father
and your family, and somehow justice will be done where there is no justice
that will ever be enough. They, too, are just children. My heart hurts for them
and their families as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Such a tragedy, such a loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My friends, our world is hurting; our children
are suffering and dying at the hands of one another. How sad it must make
Father God to see how far we have fallen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is only one answer – Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We all need Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-24018297981710761892015-04-27T08:38:00.002-05:002015-04-27T08:38:36.023-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And I will give you a
new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn
heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ezekiel 36:26<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes I read things or see something on television that
will just stay with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually, it’s
useless information that might come in handy occasionally, say, during a trivia
game. Occasionally, from the recesses of my memory, something will come to the
surface at a seemingly random moment, and suddenly God is using it to reveal
his heart. There is no random with God; He is all about design.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A long time ago, I was watching one of those medical shows
on Discovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know the type – where
they show actual surgeries, and you have to close your eyes when they make
incisions?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of those (<em>shudder</em>!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one was about heart transplants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A narrator was discussing the intricacies of
the procedure, while we watched it take place. In this case, the donor and the
recipient were in side by side operating rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The narrator made the statement that the donor heart continues to beat
for a few moments after it is harvested, as does the damaged heart of the
recipient after its removal. He stated that if the two heart muscles are placed
side by side, they continue to beat with their own, individual and unique rhythm.
But, if the hearts are allowed to touch each other, almost instantly, the pulse
of the weaker heart changes, aligning with the stronger heart, until they
pulsate in matching syncopation, beating as one. How amazing is the creation of
God? How like God to use a barely remembered television show to speak to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yesterday, during our worship service at church, I was
suddenly reminded of the show about these hearts, and I could see clearly the
impact of worship on the hearts of God’s people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How deeply we are loved by our Father! He
desires so much the place of intimacy with us. When we reciprocate that love
and desire, something incredible happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Author of the Universe, the Ancient of Days, Majesty – draws near to
His Creation, and allows His Heart to be touched by ours – and ours by
His.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our weaker, so very human hearts
are enveloped by His, and as one they begin to beat in matching rhythm, as
Father and Child dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Troubles fade
away, worries are without power, fear is replaced by the peace that comes from
being held secure in the arms of our Daddy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What unmatched joy awaits within the Heart of
God! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beloved of God, your Father’s Heart longs for yours. He
cherishes you and promises His Presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Worship isn’t about a posture, it’s not about your words, or whether or
not you can carry a tune. There’s no need to wait until you’ve got it all
together – God sees your mess and isn’t appalled by it; His Love is too great,
His Mercies too deep. As a parent, there were times when my children were small,
and they’d show up with sticky hands and dirty face, wanting a hug and a kiss. I
didn’t see the mess; I saw my child whom I love so deeply, and I hugged them,
kissing them without regard for their messiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daddy God loves us so much deeper than that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Worship isn’t a place, it’s not a program, there’s no
formula, no pattern…worship is as individual and unique as our heartbeats. It
doesn’t matter how it looks – what matters is that we allow our hearts to rise
to touch the Heart of our Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
an act of opening your spirit to His, a dropping of walls, a stirring of faith,
an act of the will. We worship because He is worthy of worship and adoration.
He responds because of His great Love for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Face to face; Heart to heart; Father to child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Precious one – your Daddy is waiting. He has a dance
reserved just for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are you
waiting for?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-2052575493594144392015-04-22T22:54:00.001-05:002015-04-22T22:54:52.364-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It began like any other morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alarm screaming in my ear, followed by the
requisite 5 or 6 taps on the snooze button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Arising finally to whines, mumbled complaints, and general grump. And
that was just from me. Shortly, I awaken my son, Gigantor, to whines, mumbled
complaints, and general grump – his reprise of his mother’s lack of morning
personness. He is his mother’s son. Half an hour later, coffee in my hand,
breakfast in his, we head out the door to school. Like any other morning, we
giggled at Laugh USA, chatted a little, quick kiss, wishes for a good day, and
Gigantor was out of the car headed inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One last wave, and I headed toward work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I came to a stop at the intersection, I
noticed a new sign posted just beyond the sidewalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked, blinked – not quite trusting my
still sleep-addled brain to be reading it correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My jaw dropped open as I read it again,
ensuring that I had, indeed, read it correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Posted before me, mockingly, was a sign – nay, a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> banner</i> – announcing the soon coming of a play to the Oxford Center
for Performing Arts….a play entitled, “Menopause. The Musical.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe something like, “Wha? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wha?</i>” was escaping from my agape mouth, but before I could regain
my senses, a horn honked lightly behind me urging me to move through the
intersection. I didn’t glance at the driver behind me, but I’m certain it was a
man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A woman – a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sister</i> – would have understood my pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Menopause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Musical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know what to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know how they’re going to pull it off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m sure as heck going to go and see it
for myself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I wouldn’t miss it
for the life of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For just a moment, I
thought that perhaps someone had written a play just for me – I love musicals…I
love stage productions..but I don’t love menopause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, more precisely, perimenopause. Technically,
I’m still 6 months out from being a bonafide member of the big M society. That’s
neither here nor there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Menopause is
anything like her little sister Perimenopause, we’re going to have issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wonder…will the ushers hand out paper fans along with the
playbill – or will the playbill be fan-folded?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Will there be copious chocolate at intermission?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will ice water be handed out along with
blankets? Will the local Heating and Air guys be onsite earlier in the day to
ensure that the AC units are all operating properly, Freon is topped off, and
thermostats are set to Antarctica? Perhaps anti-itch cream will be offered by
concessions girls, along with magnifying make-up mirrors, hot wax samples, and
indigestion aids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m certain that Xanax
in Pez dispensers personalized to resemble the face of each theatre goer’s
husband would be a welcome addition…I can imagine the glee to be had at
flicking their little heads back with a perfectly manicured thumbnail. Ah, the
joy…………………………………………………sigh………………..Oh, ahem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pardon me. I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know how they’re going to do it, but I’m going to
see for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Comedy, yes...I can see
the humor in menopause...when I’m not in the midst of a hot flash, or the
middle of a sleepless night, or a mood swing, or skin clawing full body itch…but
any other time, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Menopause makes me
laugh regularly. Mostly in a maniacal fashion following a comment to my husband
such as, “Go ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fall asleep”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Musical, I’m not so sure about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have yet to feel like bursting into
song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flames, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Song, no. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We shall see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few
hundred women at varying stages of the M society will be there judging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They better hope it’s good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or they better have a LOT of chocolate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-27243060989272033332015-04-02T22:26:00.001-05:002015-04-02T22:26:19.006-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, about a hundred years ago, around Easter 2000, I was
pondering one day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty prone to
pondering, and sometimes my pondering gets put onto paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On this day in 2000, I was pondering the
crucifixion of Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thinking
about what it must have been like for the legions of angels who had known Him
since their creation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagined a
conversation between those angels and Father God during the crucifixion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, keep in mind – this is my imagination,
and probably not scriptural. Just how I imagine it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">might</i> have gone…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Can you hear the angels asking, “Why? Why, Jehovah, must
Your Son die?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re humans, Lord, so
full of sin! How, O God, can Satan win?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let us go and take Him down, bring Him home, replace His Crown!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Can you hear God answer, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Be
silent! Wait! It is only their sin that I hate. Don’t you see that on this day,
by His death, I’ve made a Way?”<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“But, Lord, how? We don’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can this be in Your Plan?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You see, My Son is a
spotless Lamb. Remember My Promises to Abraham?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, yes, Lord, but You promised a King – One would come
and His praises they’d sing!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s true, I
promised they would be freed, but first, as a Sacrifice, my Son must bleed; for
their sins must be atoned by shed blood – His Blood alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“But, God, behold! Your Son is dead – a crown of thorns upon
His Head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cried out to You before He died;
why didn’t You rush to be by His Side?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because My Plan is
not complete. Soon, you’ll see My most awesome feat!”<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“But, Lord, they’ve laid Him in a tomb; it’s dark and cold:
a death-filled room!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve sealed the
opening with a stone. Oh, He’s in there all alone!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Smiling, God said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Be
patient, wait – you will see I’m not too late!” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One day…two days…, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Gabriel,
come!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go and gently awaken My Son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roll the stone completely away, and when His
disciples come looking say, ‘He is not here, but risen. See – the place where
He lay is now empty.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell them, ‘He’s
living! He is not dead! Go and seek Him, forget your dread!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God’s Redemptive Plan is done – He’s
resurrected your Lord, His Son!”<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Holy!” the angels began to cry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Holy, the Lamb Who came to die!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worthy, the Lamb Who was slain, Who shed His
Blood to wash man’s stain!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">God smiled and said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Come
Home, My Son. I am well pleased, My Will You’ve done.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then Father and Son in joy embrace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve given the Cross to the human race!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was and is
and is to come!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-74236641910056717802015-03-27T22:24:00.001-05:002015-03-27T22:24:23.186-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Aren’t you the little
one that hid in my arms afraid of the thunder?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Are these the little hands that held so tight to mine?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t we both agree you’d never grow up, and
now here we are and here you go? Of all the things I want to say, the thing you
really need to know is, I believe in you. Everything you are. Everything you
are becoming. I believe in you.” (Steven Curtis Chapman)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow, my firstborn son – the child who made me a mother
– will turn 21 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to be
honest and say that this week has been very emotional for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t tell you how many times it has hit me
and I’ve dissolved into tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not
sure if all moms go through this when their first child becomes an adult – a
full-fledged, legal-in-the-eyes-of-the-world (and the law) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actual </i>ADULT. I’m not sure what is causing the emotional upheaval
for me – he isn’t getting married, isn’t moving away from home…nothing much is
changing except a number…so why does it feel so very much like EVERYTHING is
changing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I feel as if I’m losing
my boy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I guess, technically, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am</i>
losing my boy-son and gaining a man-son. I’ve never been the mother of a man
before; I’m not sure I know how one mothers a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if he doesn’t need me for advice
anymore?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">does</i>? Will I know what to say? I remember asking myself similar
questions 21 years ago as I watched my belly grow with his new little
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">IF</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was terrified then, and I think I’m
terrified now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, of what I was
gaining, and now, of what I might be losing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It makes me sad to think that, as he ages, he won’t need me in the same
way he has in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, over the
years, as he has grown toward this milestone birthday, he has become
increasingly independent – but something about this birthday feels different,
transitional. I don’t think I like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So many prayers we’ve
prayed; so many dreams to get to this moment. Now this is where we stay, while
you go change the world. But I’ll be where I have always been – up in the stands,
cheering you on, and singing this song. The song the very God Who made you has
been singing all along, ‘I believe in you. Yeah, I believe in you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So spread your wings and fly on the winds of
knowing I always believe in you.’”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ah, this man who is my son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m so proud of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has given
me more gray hairs that I can count; the worry wrinkles on my brow are my
tattoos of motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been a
perfect mother, which is perfect because he wasn’t always the perfect son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite his missteps, occasional rebellion,
and a thousand other gray hair and wrinkle producing behaviors, he was and
always has been a good kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From a very
young age, he decided that music was his future, and set his face like flint in
that direction, learning as many instruments as he could get his hands on,
teaching himself how to play them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
practiced for hours in his room, door closed, over and over again until it was
just so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he would come out and play
it for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t know that I had
already been listening, ear pressed to his door, silently crouched in the
hallway, unseen and unheard, my heart singing along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was – and is – dogged in his pursuit of
perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am his biggest fan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And when you rise and
when you fall, I’ll still believe in you. Just close your eyes and hear me
calling, ‘I believe in you. Oh, I believe in you!” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From his very first performance in front of a crowd – he was
8 or 9 years old, and he played Third Day’s “God of Wonders”, he has always
been comfortable on a stage, in front of people. He has always had this
intrinsic ability to draw in a crowd; to engage them, to encourage them to join
him in song – or in worship. He can lead the people of God into worship,
because he has known the place of worship. Even on the few occasions he has
performed secular songs in various venues, he still interacts with the crowd
and ensures that they are not just observers, but participants in the music. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His dreams are slowly but surely coming to fruition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is becoming known in ever-widening circles
of musical-type people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is centered
and based in the amazing worship team at our church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is his primary focus, as it should be,
but he also now travels to lend his talents and skills to other worship leaders
in surrounding areas, and even other states. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so PROUD that he has chosen to pursue the
Christian music industry as a singer/songwriter/worship leader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His is a high calling, given by God at a very
young age, and I have no doubt God will complete the work He began in my
boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If time shows that his dreams need to be reexamined, perhaps
redefined a bit, I will still believe in him, wholeheartedly. That’s sort of my
job as his mother, right? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Young mommy, cherish your sleepless nights, little toothless
grins – or if your children are a little older, love the busy schedules, the
endless homework, even the rolling eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It all passes so quickly, and before you know it – before you’re ready –
you’ll be facing a milestone birthday…the last single digit…the first “teen”
year…DRIVER’S LICENSES…the first 20…and then, like me, 21. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s funny, as I began typing this two days ago, I truly was
worried that I would become a part of his childhood, laid aside like his toys –
another trapping of childhood no longer needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today, as I pondered the way I could possibly end this Blahg with so
many questions still remaining in my heart, my phone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my man-son calling to tell me that his
car had broken down about 40 miles from home as he traveled to play with our
worship team at another church, and he didn’t know what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened as he griped, as he told me I wasn’t
helping with the advice I was giving him and I pointed out that it was because
I was telling him what he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i> to
hear & do, not what he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted</i> to
hear & do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was frustrated with
him, and he with me….and soon I realized – yep…I’m still his mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of numbers won’t change that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will always be help needed, advice to
be given, and rescues to be orchestrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, in true Mom fashion, I donned my cape (glad I hadn’t yet stored it
away like a pressed rose!), secured he and his equipment a ride home with
loving church family, and explained how we would handle getting him to a
commitment early tomorrow morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then,
I gave him the phone number to Roadside Assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You go, boy-man! You call that Tow Truck! </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love how God answers our questions, and calms our
uncertainties. I’m pretty sure He giggled as He orchestrated THIS rescue of
this mom’s worried heart. I can almost hear Him whisper, “Oh, he will need you
for a while yet…watch this…” Shhhhh…don’t tell my boy-man that I giggled
along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happy Birthday, Son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You will always, always be my baby, and I will always, always be your
Mom….even when you don’t want me to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I love you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-9053764794457490572015-03-23T09:43:00.001-05:002015-03-23T09:43:14.539-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Physical training is good, but training for Godliness is
much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1 Timothy 4:8<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reading that Scripture set me to pondering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know about you, but the older I get,
the more like a toad I feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
metabolism is slower, the weight is harder to lose, and the chins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s not even talk about the chins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, let’s talk about them a little..I have
this no-so-irrational fear that one day I’m going to sneeze and my chins are
going to inflate like a big old bullfrog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Children are afraid their eyes will pop out when they sneeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not me. I’m afraid of the chin balloon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Getting older stinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My knees make noises, my back aches, my stomach seemingly tries to
devour itself with acid, gravity has a ridiculous hold on body parts
unmentionable (this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> a family
oriented Blahg after all).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folks, I can
hear myself wrinkling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know, in your car or your home, when a thermostat stops
working properly, you replace it, yes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
fairly certain my thermostat has gone out in this traitorous old body of
mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One minute I’m chilly…the next, my
hair is on fire. What is the deal??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Where exactly is this faulty thermostat located, and where can I buy a
new one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jiminy Cricket – why is there
no middle ground here?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What, you ask, does any of that have to do with the
scripture posted at the top of this page?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everything, I tell you. Everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t LIKE being a toad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t LIKE getting older and dealing with the aches and pains, weakness and
fatigue, sags and wrinkles of an aging body. I LOATHE the hot flashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband might tell you I have mood swings
on top of all of that….he MIGHT…if he weren’t afraid of me…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yeah, getting older stinks, and if you’re anything like me,
you’re finding it increasingly difficult to manage “physical training”, or at
the very least, you’ve altered the way you train your body to accommodate new
weaknesses and pains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting older is part of living; we gain
wisdom as we gain mileage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m okay
(ish) with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exercising your body is necessary to good heart health,
increasing energy, regulating mood, lowering cholesterol, and strengthening
aging muscles, among other things, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, the benefit is limited to this life – such a short time,
really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Scripture above tells us,
it is training in Godliness that will benefit us not only here in our daily
lives, but also in eternity. It is this training in Godliness that reveals to
us the mind and heart of God toward us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is this training that steadies the heart, gives peace to the mind,
and encourages the spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is this
training that floods us with joy, fills us with promise, and works through us
with power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is this training that
allows us to become conduits of the Grace, Mercy, and Love of God to the world
around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Training…what a funny word to
use for an act of Love….we “train”(spend time in His Word, spend time in His
Presence) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">because</i> we love vertically –
we love God, we desire to know Him as much as He can possibly be known this
side of eternity…and, conversely, we love horizontally because we “train”
vertically…we love people, we desire that they come to know Him so we “train”
in order to be ministers – ADministering the Kingdom of God to the world around
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the training that is
eternal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Getting older stinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s just truth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But physical
age and ability mean nothing in the Kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s all about the heart of His People – toward Him, toward others. We
learn because we love; we love because we’ve learned – and we do it all because
He first loved us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s pretty simple,
really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body may fail me, but my Lord
never will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of His Faithfulness,
I desire to be faithful. And so I train myself in Godliness, desiring the
benefits that it brings for myself – and for others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Speaking of hot flashes – they are of God, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See Revelation 3:16….apparently, there’s not
supposed to BE any middle ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dang it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-67688132448447705052015-03-19T09:48:00.001-05:002015-03-19T09:48:49.389-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What shall I talk about today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain is completely empty of ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I sit here typing random words, watching
the letters push the cursor across the blank page, hoping that inspiration
comes. Funny how I long so much to write, yet struggle terribly with coming up
with subject matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the letters
continue to push the cursor, and the brain continues to be blank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think about my every day, and how little
time I have for just sitting here doing this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Probably busy-ness is the culprit for my lack of creativity; I’m sure
there’s a legitimate reason – I simply don’t have time to sit down and be
creative unless I take the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
now, I’m thinking of all the things that I should be up doing instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The things of life that are necessary for the
every days to continue uninterrupted: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laundry, dishwashing, cleaning…..the mundane
tasks of living that get in the way of the things we’d rather be doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wonder how much of our lives are spent that way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if God intends us to live in the
mundane of the every days? I really think the answer to both of those questions
is no. Oh, I know that God understands that every days are vital in our lives –
we work, we do our chores, we go to school, we eat and sleep and do it all
again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t think He is troubled by that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I do think He has more for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think His Design for us is much more that we can imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two
paragraphs above were started a week ago, early one morning. Then, as usual, I
had to start my day, and never returned to finish my thoughts. Over the
weekend, we had a guest speaker at church, and she answered my questions
above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said, “You’ve got to learn to
stand in the Glory, experience the Glory, yet still function in the earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day should be a supernatural
occurrence.” ~Ruth Mangiacapre<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then she shared from Ephesians 5:15-20 which says, “So be
careful how you live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t live like fools,
but like those who are wise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make the
most of every opportunity in these evil days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t be drunk with wine, because
that will ruin your life. Instead, be filled with the Holy Spirit, singing
psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, and making music to the
Lord in your hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And give thanks for
everything to God the Father in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (NLT)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It isn’t easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are, after all, bound by time; it’s just one of the complications of life this
side of eternity. But it’s possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
even practical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think about it with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With man it’s not possible, but with
God nothing is impossible, right (Matthew 19:26)?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Him, we live and move and have our being,
correct (Acts 17:28)?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We know these
Scriptures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are as familiar to us
as is John 3:16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have we truly considered
them, though, as our means for living out our daily lives? Try to follow me
here: If nothing is impossible with God, shouldn’t everything we do be “with
God”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we live and move and have our
being “in Him” – are we ever apart from Him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Of course not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, if we are at
all times “in Him”, then it follows that everything we do is “with God”. Do you
see how those two Scriptures intertwine with each other, and with our daily
lives? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I know I’m no Bible scholar,
and I’m probably grossly over-simplifying two very deep and meaningful
Scriptures. I’ve often heard it said that the Word of God is like an onion, and
you peel back layer after layer after layer as you delve deeper into each
Scripture’s meaning….so bear with me while we look at the outer layers. You
okay with simple?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fits me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know. I KNOW.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Easier said than done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re so
not telling me anything I don’t already know. Let me tell you, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People who live each day of their lives in
just this way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Full of the Spirit of
God, walking in Kingdom Authority, accomplishing amazing things for God – and live
out their every days getting done all the things that life demands of
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, now that I think about
it, I’m pretty sure that a few of them are like Dash from The Incredibles, able
to move at speeds that aren’t visible to the naked eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh sure, as with anything, there’s a learning curve to this
lifestyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a shift in our thinking,
a setting in place a list of priorities, perhaps scheduling out our days or
weeks. How we accomplish it will look different for each one of us, simply
because our every days are so radically different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How easy it would be if there were a formula
to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t serve a formulaic God,
however, so life in His Service won’t be spelled out that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“After all, He’s not a tame Lion…but He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> good.” I think that is pretty much
the crux of the matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He desires more for our lives. He desires
that we accomplish great things for Him as well as accomplish the duties of our
every days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, lest you worry that a “great
thing for God” only consists of a trip to Myanmar to feed orphans or something,
keep in mind that God tells us that, “WHATEVER you do, work at it with all your
heart, as working for the Lord rather than for people (Col. 3:23).” And “I tell
you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters,
you were doing it for Me (Matt. 25:40).”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Something else our guest speaker said this weekend, “We deal with our
lives as days, but God deals in them as seasons.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter what season you happen to be in
today, there is a purpose for it, and God still desires you to do great things
for Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether it is cleaning a tiny
little bottom & wiping a runny nose before it drips down into a snaggle-toothed
smile, or laying hands on the sick & watching them recover – the season you
are in is God’s Design for your every days right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They won’t always look this way; seasons
change, and the tasks that we are called to do each day change with them.
Treasure your season. Live and move and BE in Him, because there is nothing
impossible as long as you are with Him. You ARE accomplishing great things –
even the tiny things are great when they’re done for Him and with Him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Authors Note:
Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes my Blahg meanders along
with my mind, and what began as one topic may swing into something different
before I’m finished with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fingers
follow my mind, just as the letters follow the cursor….or do the letters push the
cursor?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either way, when you read my Blahg,
read it as a conversation – we’re just talking, you & I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as a conversation flows from topic to
topic, bending, twisting, turning and returning, so you’ll find that my Blahg
often does the same, and I write exactly as if I were just talking to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope it’s not all too confusing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-48849913126678650102015-03-03T08:49:00.001-06:002015-03-03T08:55:55.175-06:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">3/2/2015<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">Today is my 49<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hard to believe, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t <em>FEEL</em> 49.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, okay, maybe in body…but definitely not
in mind or spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still feel like a
young person – maybe mid 20’s?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to
think of myself as young at heart, with a reasonably sharp mind, and youthful
spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, I like to <em>THINK</em> of myself
as a size 8, with sharp eyesight, smooth skin, and muscle tone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reckon it’s my thinking and I can do it any
way I want, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></o:p><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">Yep. I’m getting older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hopefully wiser is going along with that at a comfortable pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not yet to the “repeating stories”
age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m thankful for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus, I’m not yet to the “repeating stories”
age…so clearly I’m not old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a
difference between being old and just getting older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me give you some examples: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
at the “repeating stories” age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom
is at the “can’t remember if I told you this story” age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband is at the “you did NOT tell me
that” age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me – I’m just at the “I was
going to tell you something, but forgot what it was” age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My oldest son is at the “you can’t tell me
anything” age, and my youngest is at the “yeah, yeah, I know. You already told
me that; I get it!” age. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">I’ll tell you another age that I’ve reached…the age where I
wonder what my legacy will be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a
mother, I know that part of my legacy will be in my children, and in their
children and so forth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Davey is well
on his way to living out the dreams he has always had of being a
singer/songwriter/musician/worship leader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember walking into the living room one day when he was about 4
years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a video playing of
an old contemporary Christian group, 4-Him, singing a song called “A Man You
Would Write About”, and there was my Davey, standing in front of the TV, both
hands in the air singing the lyrics to this song at the top of his lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wanna be a man that You would write about.
Oh, a thousand years from now that they could read about – The servant of
choice in whom You found favor – a man who heard Your Voice.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, his journey here to this place of purpose
hasn’t been easy or smooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy
built his testimony; I’ll give him that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let me break down the word for you – Test, I moany (or money!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he has come out on the other side with an
understanding of Grace, Mercy, and the unmerited Favor & Love of God that I
truly believe he will carry the rest of his days – and share with others
through his passion for music that glorifies God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m proud to have him as part of my legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">My Daniel, also, is a huge part of my legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because he’s still in high school, we don’t
yet know what path he will choose for his life, but we can look back and see
that his life has been a testimony to perseverance, patience, and love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From a very young child with few words, and a
host of the idiosyncrasies that accompany autism, to a young man who
consistently tests at the top of his class in all things language oriented, has
friends, an amazing talent at drawing, singing, and songwriting (which he is
often too shy to share – but trust me – he’s every bit as talented musically as
his brother!), who hopes someday to be a computer animator, creating his own
characters & story lines…Daniel’s life is a testament to the power of
prayer and sheer determination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Hey,
Pixar! In a few years, have I got a guy for you!!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, indeed – my children are truly a part of my legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re also my current retirement plan, but
that’s a different blahg all together!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">There’s nothing like a birthday to fire up the old
introspective mood, is there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dude, I’m
49 years old, and what do I have to show for it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to look outward – at your children
– and see that you weren’t a perfect parent, but you were okay and they’re okay
and it’s all gonna be okay. Someone – couldn’t tell ya who – said, “There are
only two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other is wings.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think, hope, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">PRAY</i> – I’ve done that…. But it’s the looking inward – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">realllllly </i>looking inward – that gets
scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man, I don’t want to leave the
earth and stand before God with nothing to show Him for the time that He has
given me here. Erma Bombeck once said, “When I stand before God at the end of
my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and
could say, ‘I used everything You gave me’.” There’s my heart, right there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white;">It can be concerning, this introspection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t have to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does God ask of me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Micah 6:8 spells it out, “O people, the Lord
has told you what is good, and this is what He requires of you:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with your God.” Oh, those are not the ONLY things He asks of us – but I
think all the specifics stem from these generalities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bear each other’s burdens, take up my cross
& follow Him, love as He did, be His Hands & Feet, give, grow, seek His
Face, worship Him alone, be courageous, defend the weak, be kind, don’t worry,
be faithful, stand firm trusting Him, preach the Word, avoid evil, embrace
righteousness, be honest, know Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
list goes on and on…it looks pretty intimidating, huh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really
</i>– it’s just about Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loving like
Jesus did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loving Him, loving others,
and seeing ourselves through His Eyes enough to know who we are in Him so that
we can love Him, love others, and see ourselves through His Eyes….you get the
picture?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04;">I think, perhaps, Legacy is not so much about having the
world remember US when we’re gone, but more about how the world views Him
because our lives were lived in a way that pointed to Him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charles Spurgeon once said, “A good character
is the best tombstone. Those who love you, and were helped by you, will
remember you when forget-me-nots have withered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.” And I think that’s really the
crux of this thing Legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the grand
scheme of things, it’s not about how we are remembered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s about how HE is remembered because we
lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My life – your life – is about
how we walk with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Legacy – your Legacy
– is about who we touched for God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
life touched with the Love of God by a Lover of God will echo not only throughout
the history of earth, but throughout eternity as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They become our Legacy – a hundred years from
now, our names may not be heard in the halls of memory, except perhaps in
Family Tree listings…but a hundred years from now, there will be someone alive
who is a Lover of God simply because someone you once touched, touched someone
else..and so forth and so on – until time passes away and we stand before God
all joined together, dots all connected, lines all drawn – and we see clearly
our Legacy and know that it always was and always will be about Him.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-69071300171259233902015-02-23T23:24:00.000-06:002015-02-23T23:24:13.491-06:00<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Give me words to speak, don’t let my spirit sleep, ‘cause I can’t think of anything worth saying but I know that I owe You my life. Every night, every day, I find that I have nothing left to say. So I stand here in silence awaiting Your Guidance. I’m wanting only Your Voice to be heard. Let them be Your Words.”<br />~Aaron Shust, “Give Me Words to Speak”</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Listening to the radio recently, the lyrics above grabbed me with a force that almost took my breath. I was stunned by my own reaction to a simple song lyric. It occurred to me that what I was hearing was the cry of my own heart.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Can I be transparent, y’all? Can I just lay it out there and hope that you won’t laugh? I have this dream – I want to write. I want to spill words onto a page that will reach out and impact someone the way Mr. Shust’s words impacted me. I want to write words that give life, and hope, and encouragement, and joy, and laughter, and peace….and whatever….but I want them to be words that are straight from the Heart of God for His People – and those He longs to BE His People. I want to write words that make a difference in someone’s life, words that make change possible – and desirable. I’m not out to change the world – I just want to change a life – or a thousand. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It’s silly, aspiring to be a writer, when there are so many out there. So many with greater vocabularies, greater knowledge, deeper understanding of the things of God, more creativity, more wisdom. Who am I to have anything of value to say? I’m honestly at a loss for an answer to that question. I’m nobody….but then, so was Ananias…we don’t know ANYTHING about Ananias. He was referred to simply as “a certain disciple named Ananias”. He’s never noted in Scripture again…but, it was this unknown, seemingly insignificant, unimportant man that God called upon to open the eyes of Paul – Saul, the persecutor of Christ Followers. I have a quote on my wall that I look at often. It says, “God used Paul to touch the world; He used Ananias to touch Paul. That may be your job. You may touch the one who will touch the world.” </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My desire is not to touch the world. My desire is to touch the one. So, y’all bear with me. You are my experimental audience. Ain’t you blessed? </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So, that being said…here’s something I wrote back in February. I’m just going to tack it on here because basically – it’s the exact same thing that I just said up there ^^^^^. <br /> February 23, 2014</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I love Disney movies. My favorite scene of all Disney movies is from Beauty and the Beast. It’s the scene where the Beast shows Belle into his library. Floor to ceiling, every wall save one is covered in books. The one wall that is bookless is a wall of windows. Sigh. Belle’s reaction would be my own. I could be happy there – just bring me food and water. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Shortly after I gave my life to the Lord, I was in a church service where a guest speaker was ministering. At one point in the service, he came to me and told me, “I don’t know what it means, but when I look at you, I see row upon row upon row of books. I don’t know if it means that you just love books and God wants you to know that He knows what is important to you, or if it means you’re supposed to write books. So, just take it, pray about it, and God will reveal what He is saying to you.” As he said that, the scene above flashed into my mind, and I was encouraged that God was just telling me that He knows my heart. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I never thought about writing; other than the occasional scathing letter written to complain about poor customer service, or some such, I wasn’t much of a writer. Hated writing essays in High School and College, even though English was my favorite class. Go figure.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It wasn’t long after that night when, one morning sitting at home with my children; Daniel just an infant, Davey an active toddler, I wrote my first poem. And then another, and another, and another. My life, circumstances, fears, thankfulness, hopes, dreams….all flowed out onto paper in the form of rudimentary poetry. Still, I was hooked. It was an escape, a way to record my thoughts. Dozens of “poems” came – some better than others, but all from my heart.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Over time, active children and life made finding time to write – or even think – difficult, and then life took a turn we never expected. Daniel was diagnosed with autism. I dove headfirst into research and advocacy. I learned as much as I could, fought as hard as I could, and stopped writing briefly while all of my focus was turned toward this thing that had taken over our lives. The last poems I wrote were about our journey into autism. Beyond that, any writing was directed toward that end – letters to teachers encouraging, exhorting, instructing, sometimes rebuking. Letters to my representatives in Montgomery and in Washington. Internet message boards, learning from those further along in the journey, and eventually supporting those who’d just stepped into the world of a spectrum parent, offering hope and peace. I started a blog and recorded my thoughts there for the world to read. The subject matter ranged from my faith to our journey to politics to silliness. I enjoyed writing there; enjoyed the responses I got, and thought maybe – just maybe – this was something I could “do”. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It all came to a halt one morning in May 2009 when fear slammed into me, gripping my heart and life due to the actions of another. It crippled me, silenced me, and bound me into a place of uncertainty, insecurity, and inadequacy. I won’t go into it here; it’s long, ridiculously depressing – and pretty much irrelevant. Life continued, the panicked fear lifted, but the splinters and scars remained. I stopped writing. Period. End of sentence. End quote. It was just gone.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I honestly don’t even know when the desire to write resurfaced. I don’t recall. I remember a few years back a dear, precious friend – a former teacher of Daniel’s who’d been on the receiving end of many a letter offering encouragement and gratitude - sent me a message telling me that the Lord had told her that I was to write a devotional book. I laughed and thought, “Yeah. Riiigghhhttt.” Then a year or so ago, my pastor’s amazing wife asked me to consider writing something in the form of a devotional for the church website. This was still a “new” church for me – I have no idea how she knew that I enjoyed writing or what even made her believe that she could ask me and not ultimately regret that invitation. I need to ask her about that…how DID she know? </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It took me for.ev.er to write something. One day, my heart was filled with worry and fear of what the future might bring, so I sat down at my computer to just type down my fear. I typed what I felt the Lord had told me, and allowed my thoughts to just flow from that. I sent it to her – unedited and not even proofread (the horror!) – and she published it on the website. It was raw, unrefined, a little confusing – but it was my heart, and it was real. And I was terrified that I’d said something wrong; something unscriptural; something that would show the world that I really don’t have it all together.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Since then, I have had several people say something to me about writing - <br />“When are you going to write a book?” “You’re supposed to be writing.” “You need to write.” And always, silently, in response, that voice in my head would say, “Who me? What would I write ABOUT? What do I have to offer the people of God? Who am I to say anything? What do I have to say?” – effectively dismissing their words and my own desire to do exactly what they’d suggested.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I really don’t have anything to offer to the people of God. I really don’t have anything to say. Most of the time my head is as empty as my hands. I’m no theologian. I’m no scholar. I worry that I’m not eloquent enough. I don’t “talk the talk” well – you know, church talk. Those buzz words that we in the church use when discussing things of God; the things that cause the world around us to look at us peculiarly. But God. God told me a long time ago that it doesn’t matter if I talk the talk as long as I walk the walk. That I can do. I may stumble, twist my ankle, trip over a rock – but I walk. Sometimes, I plod. Even trudge. Still, I walk. This path God has me on isn’t always easy to walk, but I know that it leads to Him, and that’s really all that matters. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So, no – I have nothing to offer. No profound revelation that will change lives, break chains, and lift up the broken-hearted. But I have God, and He has me – such as I am. (Bless Him – I so got the better end of this deal.) What I have is a Loving Father Who sometimes will whisper to me, and if I am faithful to listen, perhaps I can take what He has whispered and allow it to flow out of my fingers onto paper. Maybe, just maybe, someone will read it who is walking a path so similar to mine that they can relate and can hear God whispering to them as well. <br /> Maybe one day I’ll learn to write concisely, without chasing rabbits, without allowing my meandering mind to take charge of my flying fingers. Perhaps one day my chaos can be beautiful. In the meantime, I just want it to be faithful.</span>Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-34495291682592490762015-02-20T18:33:00.001-06:002015-02-20T18:33:32.305-06:00<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_54e7d17508fc49e63712114">
Y'all know how I told you that my mind meanders? This Blahg is the result of my meandering mind this morning. It is pasted from a note on my iPhone, unedited. It's just random thoughts typed down - self talk, reminding myself of what I know to be true. Extend me grace, please. <br />
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Fear robs you of the ability to find peace. It steals your objectivity, and darkens your outlook; eclipsing hope on the horizon. Fear is an encompassing emotion, overwhelming thoughts, weakening faith,<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> and hiding wisdom. Fear tells you that the worst will happen and you are not strong enough to withstand it. Fear takes your focus off of God and turns it toward circumstances. Fear is a deceptive emotion, claiming to have knowledge of tomorrow.</span><br />
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Fear vs. Fact - it is the singular most important choice that we make when situations arise that produce fear.<br />
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Fear tells us what might come. Fact tells us what IS. Fear looks down. Fact looks straight ahead. Add Faith into the equation - Faith looks up. Faith shifts your focus above circumstances. <br />
Fear looms over us. Fact stands beside us. Faith lifts us up. <br />
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What do you fear/dread? Look at what you SEE, not at what might come. If you don't yet have knowledge/outcome/answers, then that is not what you SEE. What you see is possibilities that are not yet realities. Remove your gaze from those and look through eyes of Faith. What does God say? If He isn't speaking yet, remember what He <em>HAS</em> said. <br />
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Trust that He has said He will never leave or forsake you. Trust that He has said He makes all things work together for the good. Trust that He has said that His Ways are perfect. Trust that He has said that He has Plans for you and will not harm you. Trust that He has said He will uphold you with His Righteous Right Hand - the very Hand where you are engraved. (Who tattoos their palm? God does!) <br />
Being temporal isn't easy. We want answers now, and when we can't see answers, our minds begin to examine possibilities of what MIGHT happen, producing fear or dread, forgetting that tomorrow is visible only to One. Worrying, dreading, fearing will not change an outcome. But it will change you. <br />
So will responding in Faith to the not yet known events of tomorrow. What do you actually see? What does God say? <br />
<br /> Faith. Because He loves you. And you never walk alone into tomorrow. Ever.</div>
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Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-72336269611496647362015-02-20T18:10:00.001-06:002015-02-20T18:10:39.837-06:00<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_54e7ca85e4d540987556575">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;">This morning as I pulled into my driveway after dropping my younger son off at school, I glanced down into the back yard. My eye caught sight of the old, long abandoned treehouse perched back there, noting that a limb from it's host tree had fallen and was leaning precariously against the side of a collapsing railing. I recalled the days when my sons would play there, imagining whatever it is that boys imagine while sitting high in a tree. I could almost hear the echo of their shout<span class="text_exposed_show">s and laughter. Ghosts of days gone by haunting my longing heart. How quickly they grow, and today men stand in the place of the boys I raised; the treehouse now only a monument to childhood and motherhood. Who of us, as a mother, has not looked back and wondered, no - worried - that we're doing it all wrong, making mistakes that will cause some irreparable harm to the young psyches of our children resulting in a sociopathic adult or some such? Oh, yes, you have. Don't pretend you haven't. We all have. We're mothers. We're all neurotic. Yet, somehow, despite our flaws and failings, our children usually grow to be reasonably sane and responsible. Proof that if God can use an ass to guide, He can certainly use us.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> How like God to use such simplicity to call out to me, to remind me of His instruction to build monuments to His Goodness. Throughout the history of His people are stories of monuments being erected as reminders of what the Lord accomplished in their lives. These monuments were usually as simple as a large stone set in place for present and future generations to use as remembrance - "Look what the Lord has done!" </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's easy to forget. We live in the right now and the what if. Circumstances, situations, concerns arise. We look around and ahead, forgetting to look back at our monuments to what God has done, recalling that His Faithfulness hasn't changed.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Back then, the Hebrew people would trudge into the river for the perfect stone, or pile stones found in the desert. They would place the stone just so, and then pour oil over it, anointing it, making it holy. I believe God still desires that we anoint our monuments. I believe that God would have us, in times that we need to remember His Goodness, take out our monuments - our memories of victories past, of deliverances past, of provisions past - and anoint them yet again with the Oil of Holy Spirit by praying over them, declaring again, "Look what the Lord has done!" And will do. Again, and again, and again. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Just like that treehouse stands in my back yard, reminding me of days spent watching two happy, rambunctious boys climb and shout and risk broken limbs - their own, not those belonging to the tree - there are monuments throughout our lives, if we care to look. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> There's a running vehicle in the driveway, a roof over my head, food in the pantry. I'm warm, I'm well-fed (TOO well-fed!) - monuments to God's provision. There's receipts for prescription medicines from a recent bout with pneumonia - monuments to God's healing, through the Wisdom He has given my Doctor. There's the memory of another Doctor saying to me, "It doesn't look as if you've EVER had mitral valve prolapse." - a diagnosis I had carried for 10+ years - a monument to God's supernatural healing. There are wrinkles around my eyes, monuments to the life of laughter that God has given me. There are worry wrinkles on my forehead, also monuments - to the fact that whatever causes me to wrinkle my brow always, always passes and God is always at work on my behalf. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As I look back over my life, I recall so many times where God has been very present. I remember a time, years ago, when we struggled financially and every Sunday evening while we were at church someone would leave a box of groceries on our porch. We still have NO idea who our grocery angel was, but the memory is a monument to the Love of God touching through the hands of His People. When we began to level out financially, the grocery angel stopped coming. We had told no-one. But God knew that He had begun providing for us in our jobs, and our grocery angel knew God, and listened to His Direction. The timing was perfect and we never wanted for anything. How intimately God knows us! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> That's just our God, my friends. Intimate, Loving, Faithful. We matter to Him. The details of our lives matter to Him. Looking out at the vastness of the Universe, it's easy to consider ourselves too small to be noticed by the One who designed it all, but notice He does. Not only does He notice, but He moves closer, leaning in, listening, reminding, proving Himself over and over. And yet we still forget when the next what if comes along. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Monuments. Anointed, oil-covered monuments. Holy Spirit soaked memories of the Kingdom of God present in the mundane of our daily lives and experiences. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /> Won't you build some with me? Come on...let's go gather some stones!</span></div>
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Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-63323927040734139942015-02-19T22:07:00.003-06:002015-02-19T22:07:49.703-06:00Saturday, I spent the day kayak fishing and hiking with my husband. We were fishing in our favorite lake, a place that is very familiar to us. We noticed that one area had changed a bit. We weren't really surprised - we had seen beavers in the area on previous visits. Curiosity got the better of us, so we found a place to land our kayaks and pull them safely out of the water. We began to walk along the mountainside that surrounds the lake. As we got beyond the normal boundary of the lake and continued back into the flat land at the head of the lake, we started seeing the work of the industrious beaver community that inhabits the area. A little further back, and we were astonished. <br />
We had come upon a large pool, created by a dam built by these amazing creatures. It was clearly a community - a beaver neighborhood. <br /> We continued walking and soon realized that this beaver community was designed as three tiers - each layer we came upon was a couple of feet higher than the one before it, and slightly smaller. We were astounded as we watched the water trickle over the dams, yet the water level of the lower pools did not increase, perfect in design. Filling and emptying in precise measure so that no pool emptied and no pool flooded, each pool filled to perfection. <br />
In the silence of nature, we could hear a rush of water; upon further inspection we found its source - a perfectly round, perfectly placed hole just behind one of the dams allowing water to rush, rather than trickle, into the pool below. At first, we were a little confused about the reason for the hole, considering that perhaps it was accidental - a sign of some damage or erosion caused by the continual flow of water against the carefully stacked wooden barrier. But soon we noticed that despite the increased flow of water, the water levels below were precisely maintained. Incredulously, we realized that this rushing water had the purpose of stirring up the water to keep it fresh, avoiding stagnation. <br /> We continued on beyond the dammed beaver community and soon came upon the stream of fresh water that fed the beaver pools and ultimately the lake beyond. The stream was simply breathtaking. Crystal clear, and lined by greenery that was in striking contrast to the stark browns and grays that made up the winter garments of the surrounding mountainside. This was the stream that provided life - year round to the waters below. <br />
It occurred to me during the worship service at church yesterday morning - How very much like the Presence of God operating within His Church is the design of this Beaver Community! <br />
As the worship team led us into the Presence, I could see again the Stream, feeding that first, highest & smallest pool. The Holy Spirit pouring into the worship team with absolutely no intent of that Water staying there on that platform. <br />
The Water flowed into the next pool, a little larger than the previous one - His Church, for me Deeper Life Ministries - and your church, wherever that may be. <br />
But it is not intended to stop there either. As it flows out from that middle pool into the largest pool - the last in the Beaver Community, it is stirred up, intended to refresh and renew the largest pool of the community. God's impact, through His Presence operating within us, flowing into our community. <br />
Finally, the Water flowed into the lake. The Presence Of God going into the world on the feet, heart, and hands of His people. <br />
All because of one Beautiful Stream, and a community of beavers, in tune with the Creator.Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-62142912930469282552015-02-19T21:53:00.000-06:002015-02-19T21:53:47.285-06:00Hello again!<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, hello again! I'm thinking it's time to resurrect this blog after 100 years, give or take. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'll spare you the mundane details of my absence - really, it's nothing other than life got busy and time just didn't allow. I could make up some dramatic story, though, if you'd like that better than just hearing that work and family just had to come first for a while. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm ever so excited to be back, though. Hopefully, I'll have something worthwhile to share from time to time. Unfortunately, life is no less busy these days, so as much as I'd like to, I'm just not able to blog every day. One of these days...one of these days...life will slow down - hopefully my brain won't follow suit...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To start off, if I can figure out how to do so, I'm just going to share some blogs that I've posted on my Facebook blog, "Blither, Blather, Blahg". I will probably continue to cross post there as well. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hope y'all are blessed! And warm. Don't forget warm. Blessed and warm. :)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Much love! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Toni</span> Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-79052284734134625082009-06-08T21:52:00.001-05:002009-06-08T21:55:36.553-05:00Questions for HeavenOne day a while back, I had been listening to a Chris Rice CD, and there’s a song called "Questions for Heaven". And I started thinkin’ (I’m prone to do that from time to time...smell the wood burnin’?)...if I could make a list of questions for Heaven - what would they be? I remember pondering that most of the day one day, and then I sat down to write them down (so I won’t forget when I get there, donchaknow...cuz I reckon I’m gonna take that paper with me...). <br />So, here’s a few of my questions for heaven - what would YOUR questions be?<br /><br />As You walked upon this earth, man-God, did You ever lay back on the ground and watch the clouds pass by?<br /><br />Did You ever watch the stars at night & remember when You created them and how they sang to You? Did they sing again?<br /><br />Were animals drawn to You while You were here?<br /><br />Did You ever watch an approaching storm and know the storehouse from whence the lightning came?<br /><br />What was the first thing You ever built as a carpenter? Did the Creator in You feel frustration at Your human limitations?<br /><br />As a Child, did You ever catch snow on Your tongue? Rain? Did it snow there?<br /><br />Did You ever stand on the shore of the ocean, or the edge of the Sea of Galilee, and remember when You drew a line in the sand and declared, "This far your proud waves may come and no further." Did You ever replay that with Your human finger? Was it unsatisfying?<br /><br />Did You ever look at an ocean and remember holding its waters in Your Hand?<br /><br />Did You ever look at someone and think to Yourself, "She has six million, four hundred two thousand eight hundred and three hairs on her head." Did you giggle because no one knew what You were thinking?<br /><br />Did You ever see a crucifixion and look upon it with knowing Eyes? Were You afraid? Did You moan, dreading Your own?<br /><br />Did You ever stare into a fire and weep in desperate longing for those souls who would reject You - knowing they were going to suffer hell?<br /><br />As You grew into a man, did You ever smile in delight ~ enjoying being Your own Creation?<br /><br />Did You take flowers to Your mother?<br /><br />As a Baby, when Your cries broke the silence of the night, were You weeping for lost humanity ~ for Your Father ~ for Home?<br /><br />Did You look upon the sands of the seashore and see faces ~ remembering Your Promise to Abraham?<br /><br />Did You play with John as a Child? What did You play ~ or talk about?<br /><br />Do You smile as I write my questions, laughing at how simple it all will seem then, even as I sit with reeling mind ~ and emotions?<br /><br />What was Your favorite food here? Your favorite flower? Song? Dance? Scent?<br /><br />Did You ever watch the sunrise or sunset and know that Your Daddy painted it especially for You?<br /><br />Do You get tired of questions?<br /><br />And at the end of my list, I wrote: It occurred to me - there is a difference between being a believer in God and a follower of God. I will be a follower of God.Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-35537795484237839722009-04-23T13:05:00.001-05:002009-04-23T13:17:51.507-05:00No-AH!Originally posted August 26th, 2008<br /><br />This morning, Daniel and I were headed to his school. As we drove over Coldwater Creek, I slowed down for him to look at the creek overflowing its banks (for you locals, it was touching the bottom of the "little bridge", and was into the parking lot on both sides.). He asked if, when it stops raining "day after tomorrow", we could come swimming. I answered, "No-ah." (You'll have to say it out loud to get the full effect...go ahead, look around to see if anyone is nearby, I'll wait...............coast clear? Okay, say it with me, "No-ah." stress on the Ah. Got it? Good.) Naturally, his answer was, "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy-ah?" to which I gave my most motherly reply, "Becuz-ah." So, startin' his whineeeeeee, he said, "Can we, Mommmmm???" Not one to back down easily and give in (yah,right), I repeated, "Noooo-ah."<br /><br />Apparently, my meandering mind is a genetic thing because my spawn, er, son, then said, "Hey. NOAH! I know who that is!! But...who's Becuz-ah?" Thinkin' on my feet, er, seat, I replied, "Um...Noah's wife??"<br /> <br />He pondered that a minute and giggled and said, "Really?" Then I told him that Noah's wife's name isn't mentioned in the Bible, which must have really been hard on the preacher that married them - "Do you Noah, take, er, um, er, ohhhhh...um...What's-her-name here to be your lawfully wedded wife?" and "Do you, er, um, er, ohhhhh...Whoever-you-are take Noah to be your lawfully wedded husband?" <em> <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">(Parental Distraction Tactic successful: Mission Accomplished!)</span></em> And he laughed & forgot all about swimming in the creek. <br /><br />So, I dropped him off at school, and headed home, recalled our "conversation", and my MM took over & I thought to myself, "Self....wonder what one's gotta do to NOT get her name written down in the Bible when her husband is pretty doggone famous?" Self didn't have an answer, and neither do I. It IS a curious question, though, don't you think? I did, however, tickle myself with the thought, "Hmm...wonder if after this election is over, if BO doesn't win -will his wife go down in the history books as Mama Obama?" I giggled quietly to myself all the way home. <br />Love to all!Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-69528019600866484992009-04-20T06:46:00.000-05:002009-04-20T06:49:45.988-05:00Priceless..(originally posted May 6, 2008)<br />I'm always tickled at Daniel's unique perspective on the world...and I often giggle at his literal understanding of things. Today, there were two prime examples - and I also remembered a third - that I want to share with you.<br /><br />This afternoon, Daniel came home from school & his weekly folder was in his backpack. It contains all the graded papers from the previous week for me to look over & then sign the folder. <br /><br />As I looked over his papers, I noticed that he'd made a 100 on his spelling test, but had missed the bonus question that she always gives them. As I read the question and his answer, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I'll type out the question here. See if you can guess what his answer would be. Think literally.....<br /><br />"If there are two weeks and three days left of school, counting today how many days do we have left?"<br /><br />Any idea what his answer was? Okay, I'll tell you. His answer was "One day". Now, go read the question again...do it out loud, because he probably did....think literally.....do you see it? <br /><br />"Counting today" equals ONE day - he counted ONLY that day.. For him to understand it, the problem should have read something like, Including today, all together how many days do we have left. I laughed out loud. Of course he got the answer wrong, but hey - he was right if you look at it literally! <br /><br />THEN...I was watching "10 Years Younger" on TLC, and he was doing his V-Math on the computer. I didn't know he was paying any attention to the TV, but the host of the TV show said, "We're gonna help Lindsay break out of her shell." and Daniel said, "But she's not a MOLLUSK!" <br /><br />And all of that reminded me of an incident last year...he was in Math class at school, and suddenly he stood up from his desk and headed out the door. His aide stopped him and said, "Where do you think you're going???" and he said, "But, my paper said to!" and she said, "Whaaa??" and he showed her his paper. It read, "Leave room to show your work." So, he was leaving the room!! <br /><br />Hahahaha!! Is that a unique perspective on the world, or what?Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-38945816366099393912009-04-16T09:55:00.000-05:002009-04-16T09:56:35.137-05:00Thinking today..Been thinking today of how to "finish" my BLAHgs about our journey. I looked back over all the posts to make sure I'd remembered everything I wanted to tell you. As I looked over our story, I thought of all the families out there with stories similar to ours. I thought of all the wonderful parents that I've met "out there" with children with autism. Many of the families I know have children with fairly mild autism, like Daniel. But for many, their children are more severely affected. I don't pretend to fully understand what they go through every day. I can imagine that I have an idea, but autism is a spectrum condition, each end, each child, being vastly different from the other. My heart goes out to those parents who've never heard their child speak. I ache for the parents who see their child self-injure themselves in an attempt to escape the sensory pain they live in. When I pray for those in the autism community, it is these families who cause my heart to cry out most fervently. I can't truly know their pain, or their fears for the future of their children. Our story holds no candle in comparison to what they've gone through. They have my heart.<br /><br />In the early days of our journey - even before his diagnosis, I turned to the internet for information and support. I didn't know anyone locally with an autistic child, so I searched out people who'd been there, done that, and could help me through all the days ahead. I found friends, true friends, who were there every time I signed on line with a question, fear, or just in pain. In the early days, there was Vikki - a wonderful mom who walked with me through Daniel's diagnosis. We'd sit up at night until 2 or 3 am "talking" via IM. We'd at first talk about autism, but then we'd begin to just enjoy each other's company - a respite from the medical, neurological, educational, and behavioral world we'd found ourselves flung into by autism. Many nights I would sit at the computer with my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter so as not to wake my family. It was a world away from covering my mouth to hide my sobs. I needed that at the time. On the day I got Daniel's diagnosis, I came home & sat at the computer and typed out the diagnosis & sent it to Vikki. She replied with an e-mail - the subject line read: In Honor of Your Arrival... and the text of the e-mail was an article entitled "Welcome to Holland". Do a Google search for that title. You'll find it. Sadly, cancer and other things took Vikki away from the computer. She is a survivor, but no longer able to be on line. We've lost contact, and I still miss her. Perhaps someday...(Vikki, if you ever come across this blog & read it - I never DID find that screw I lost!)<br /><br />I met other people on line who became very important parts of our journey. As we all posted on an autism message board, we were drawn to each other & soon began to send out group e-mails. We didn't focus on autism alone. We began to get to know each other & enjoy each other's friendship. We began to exchange photographs. During a group e-mail "conversation", we were discussing our pictures, and we all decided that we were some seriously Hot Mamas. During another group discussion, we all admitted that we're not perfect parents (imagine that!), and that we sometimes scream at our children (God forgive!). As a joke, one of the women - Donna - posted that we were the Screamin' Hot Mamas of America. (Was it America, Donna, or Autistics?) And THAT is how "SHMOA" came to be. We are: Donna (president, of course...after all - she named us! I've met Donna in person!), Patti, Tammy, Laura, Jeanna, Ginny, Liane, Paul (honorary SHMOA - bein's he's a dad & all), Carla, and me. Over the years, circumstances took some people away from SHMOA (and we still miss them!) - they are: Leah, Kim, Molly, Billie, Teal (whom I've met in person as well!) and Laelah. All of these people were a life-line to me in those early days. Today, they're my friends....and a monument to the resiliency of the human spirit! So many stories I could tell you about what these people have gone through - are going through - with autism, or even within their daily lives, apart from the autism. We have walked together through diagnosis, deaths, cancer, MS diagnosis, RA diagnosis, divorce, abuse, cross-country moves, job losses, new jobs, transfers, IEP meetings, due process hearings, regressions, progresses (sometimes leaps and bounds!), miracles, and heartbreak. These women (and man!) are representatives of what has grown to be a very large community - the autism community; families affected in one way or another, to one degree or another, by autism. Today, there are 1.5 million families in America who are affected by autism. 1 in 150 children are diagnosed with autism. I read somewhere that that's one every 24 minutes.<br /><br />Our story is a rain drop in an ocean of stories out there. We are blessed. So many out there struggle far more than we ever have, or ever will. When you pray for us, please pray for them. These children are precious - each and every one of them. If you'd like to commit to praying for children with autism and their families, you can receive daily prayers/prayer points from Children of Destiny. (.org, I think it is)<br /><br />Thank you for taking the time to read our journey. Typing it out for you has been a wonderful reminder to me of all the ways in which God has blessed my family. I've smiled, remembering. I've even shed a tear or two - but not a single one has been a tear of sadness. How marvelous & faithful is our God?!?!<br /><br />If you have any questions that I can try to answer, feel free to ask. You won't offend or bother me.<br /><br />God bless you!Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-16719598020743701132009-04-15T13:34:00.000-05:002009-04-15T13:37:30.273-05:00To Give Credit Where Credit is Due...Okay, so in my month's (well, half-month) worth of autism awareness BLAHgs, I've mentioned a couple of times about crossing over the Bridge of Nevertheless. I need to give credit where it is due. That is NOT "my" terminology or idea. On December 10, 2001 - the day I found the information on the internet that pointed me toward autism - I received an e-mail (within a few minutes of finding the autism info) from Spirit-led Woman entitled The Bridge of Nevertheless. I still have it, although I can't currently locate it. (Don't ask!) Anyway, it talked about how when God allows things in our life, or asks us to do things that we don't want to do that it's okay to tell God why we're not the person for the job, it's okay to argue with Him as if trying to convince Him to choose someone else. But, in the end, it's our obedience that He truly wants and we must cross over the Bridge of Nevertheless.<br /><br />I don't think I've ever gotten a more timely e-mail. It truly ministered to me that day & I've never forgotten it. <br /><br />When I find it, I'll tell you who wrote it. But - just so ya know...it tweren't me.Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-73167847061377089052009-04-14T14:52:00.002-05:002009-04-14T14:56:53.938-05:00Letter continued..."Do I still pray for Daniel's healing? Absolutely. Do I believe beyond a doubt that God is able to heal him? Completely. Do I believe that God created Daniel exactly as he is for a specific purpose? Wondrously. Do I trust Him to fulfill His Will for Daniel, and for our family? Wholeheartedly. God is God. I'm not. I don't know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future, and that's enough for me. I still get angry, I still get frustrated, I still pray for healing. But I rarely question why God hasn't healed him - and I guess it's because God has healed ME for the most part. I don't try to claim that there don't come days when those questions don't arise. If Daniel someday hurts because he realizes how different he is, I'll hurt along with him. And when Daniel dreams his own dreams for his future, I'll dream right along with him....if his dreams get shattered, I'll try to help him find his kaleidoscope, too.<br /><br />In the meantime, I have so many wonderful memories of little victories applauded. I remember our very first actual conversation (it was about frogs). I remember so many times when Daniel's matter of factness was incredibly hilarious, and he realized that he'd "made a joke" (yes, he says that JUST like Rain Man did!) & laughed harder than anyone, even though he didn't realize what he had said. I remember the times when he has literally made a joke, knowing full well what he was saying. Twice in the past week, he's cracked us all up or melted our hearts..<br /><br />Once Davey asked, "Mom, if you're riding a bike around a pool, and you fall in, what happens?" and quicker than a flash, Daniel answered, "You get wet." And we all just crumbled in heaps of hilarity.<br /><br />Yesterday was Davey's birthday. I made him a heart shaped cake. When it was time to cut it, both boys were standing beside me with plates in hands eagerly awaiting their slice. As I began to cut the cake, Daniel said, "Mom, you're breakin' my heart. Y'get it? You're breaking my heart!" We lost it and I almost dropped the slice I was serving!<br /><br />Just today, he got into the car after school. I usually pack his lunch, and two snacks every day. He has to have a snack after P.E. because his blood sugar drops & he can't focus during the class following P.E. Today, he told me, "Mom, this morning, I gave one of my fruit roll-ups to John F. (a boy in his class from a very poor local family). He got to school late and couldn't go to the lunchroom for breakfast and he was hungry, so I gave him one of my fruit roll-ups." How sweet is that? I can't tell you how many times I've read/heard that people with autism lack the ability to empathize and show compassion. Not if God is in the picture!<br /><br />One day several weeks ago, I was watching a video on line of one of my support group friends working with her severely autistic son doing school work using a new teaching method (Rapid Prompting Method). His name is D----, and he rocks and makes noises as he works. Daniel heard the sounds D was making and came over to check out what I was watching. After a few minutes, he said something like, "What's he doing?" and I said, "He's learning. His mommy is teaching him." and he said, "What's he doing, though?" (I realized he was meaning the sounds D was making.) and I said, "He's making sounds. He likes the way it sounds, so he makes those sounds to help himself stay calm." And Daniel asked me, "What's wrong with him?" and I said, "He has autism." Daniel replied, "Like me? I have autism." I said, "Yes, like you, but his autism makes it harder for him to learn that it does for you. He's doing his school work with his mommy. Your autism isn't like his; you get to go to school." He said, "Yeah..." and walked off. Then, he said as he sat back down on the couch, "It's because I have autism in Jesus." I sobbed. He's right. He has autism in Jesus. No way that's a bad thing! <br /><br />He's got an incredible sense of humor, he's an amazing artist, and he's the most tender-hearted child I've ever known. He wept as he watched a video of mine and Joel's wedding. God has created something beautiful out of something that could have destroyed all of us, if we'd let it. Many, many families are destroyed when autism comes into their lives. We just chose instead to cross the Bridge of Nevertheless, and trust God's Plan for us. It's not always easy, but it's always worth it. <br /><br />I hope that answers your questions, and helps you see that we're not some super-spiritual, ain't nuthin' gonna faze us Christians. (Although we aspire to one day be!) We're just a mommy, and a daddy, and a big brother, who love a very special little fella a whole lot, and love a very great and big God even more. Simple."<br /><br />"P.S. A couple of other things God has shown me.... One day while reading my Bible, I came across a verse in Hosea - "I will make the valley of trouble a door of hope." and He has faithfully kept that precious promise.<br /><br />And one night I had a dream in which I very clearly heard the words, "The child has autism. Autism doesn't have the child." Interestingly, a few months later, I was browsing around on an autism website that I'd never visited before, and I came across those very words typed by another mother on the other side of the world. God is a good God....and really big. "Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2911771570390025227.post-9954494983442713992009-04-13T09:11:00.002-05:002009-04-13T09:49:14.229-05:00Open Letter to a Friend...In March of 2006, I was sitting in Bible study at church. I don't remember the subject, but the person teaching the class was discussing when God doesn't seem to be answering a prayer of faith for healing and the questions we might ask. A friend came up after class and asked me if I ever question why God hasn't healed Daniel. I answered her, "Not really." and she seemed surprised. I wanted to tell her all I meant by that statement, but time just wouldn't allow it, so I left it at that. <br /><br />Later, though, I knew that I needed to explain to her what I'd meant, so I wrote her a letter. I won't include the entire letter because much of it is just giving her the background of our journey - and you've already read that here. But, I'll share the part that caused me to answer her with, "Not really."<br /><br />"So, I thought about your question, and knew that I needed to answer it - I didn't want you to think that I believe I'm some super Christian with hyper faith that will trust God without anger, fear, doubt, disappointment, etc. I struggle with all those things from time to time - I don't know anyone who doesn't, if they're honest. But, over the years since Daniel's diagnosis, God has taught me a few things, and so those are the things that keep me saying, "Not really" when someone asks me if I question God. I want to share those things with you, since you asked. "<br /><br />"As time passed, we started getting Daniel the help he needed, and he began to progress, I began to turn my attention from focusing so much on his needs to realizing that I had needs of my own. I'd learned to speak up for Daniel with the school systems, learned some of the special education law, learned to respond instead of react when he did something (most of the time), learned to have a little compassion for the snotty clerk at the store because I didn't know what she faced at home...so many things I'd learned. But, I'd not faced what was happening inside of me. I'd not asked God the hard questions because I'd been so busy researching and working for Daniel. I'd not really allowed myself to go through a grieving process.<br /><br />I went throught times where I thought autism is part of who Daniel is, and I wondered if I prayed for his healing, would I be asking God to kill some vital part of what made Daniel so uniquely Daniel. I went from wondering if it was even okay to seek a cure to wondering why there was no cure out there. I didn't dare dream of Daniel's future, because I didn't want to see that dream shatter - again.<br /><br />I don't remember when it happened, I don't remember how it happened, but at some point, God began to work in me. I began to be angry from time to time and to question Him. It wasn't always there, but it popped up sometimes. I began to wonder what the future held. Sometimes I cried, especially when I faced an important meeting with the school, and I feared what they'd tell me. Or when I'd get so horribly frustrated with him & want to tear out my hair, then would be so appalled at the horrible mother I can be. But, I also began to see tiny miracles in our everyday life. And somewhere inside me, God placed a "picture"; one night just this past summer I was sitting at the computer, reading the autism message boards, a place I'd visited so many times before in the past few years, and one woman's post hit me. She was questioning her faith and how God could allow her son to have autism - he'd just been diagnosed. I sat down and began to respond to her, and as I did, I realized that I was typing down the "picture" that God had placed in my heart & He was healing me of the hurt, fear, and disappointment. I told her that God is the Kaleidoscope Maker.<br /><br />We've all looked through a kaleidoscope. I don't mean the cheap, dollar store version. I mean a good quality, glass kaleidoscope. There's nothing like them. At some point, God had taken the shards of what I saw as shattered dreams for Daniel, and had created from them a kaleidoscope of beauty that I could not have imagined possible before his diagnosis. You know when you look through a kaleidoscope, you turn it, and the design created is so beautiful that you stop and look at it for a while? Then, you turn it and another design emerges, and you wonder if this one is your favorite, and how could the next one possibly be better? Then something happens, and you find yourself turning the kaleidoscope again, and yet another pattern falls into place and while you miss the old pattern, you realize it's gone forever and this one is quite beautiful, too, and maybe IT is your favorite after all?<br /><br />Well, that's how autism is. And that's how God is with autism - or any shattered dream. I look through the kaleidoscope at the beautiful thing that God has created of my shattered dreams. I see progress in Daniel and growth, and a beautiful hope fills my heart. Then, I see a new behavior, some not before seen symptom of autism begin to manifest in Daniel, and I know that as he grows, he'll progress and regress until in early adulthood he'll settle into the level of functioning he'll carry his lifetime. The pattern in the kaleidoscope changes - no less beautiful, but different. Oh, maybe I like a little more green or yellow in the pattern than this one has, but I can't deny that the colors are spectacular as they are, and the pattern is exquisite and intricate. Without God's Hand in it, though, it would just be broken glass in a tube. Do you understand what I'm saying? It's God's Hand that makes it beautiful. Because I trust His Heart for Daniel, I trust that however the pattern turns, He will make it into something beautiful."<br /><br />To be continued.....Tonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07235660973489509439noreply@blogger.com1