tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56744161827362402462024-03-12T18:42:26.260-07:00Life's Journey HereAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-20226875393850339002015-08-21T15:08:00.001-07:002015-08-21T15:34:48.045-07:00Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!!!Sorry for the delay, I'm sure you have all put your lives on hold today waiting for the big winner of For the Love to be announced! But I have been so busy <strike>celebrating</strike> commemorating the last day of summer with my kids that I just haven't had time to deal with such things. So without further ado, I give you the winner....<br />
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CONGRATS to Crystal Kirby!!! You are the Winner winner chicken dinner!!! Now do a happy dance. And prepare yourself to be introduced to a whole new vocab, Jen Hatmaker style.<br />
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Oh, and my fave grade school teacher was Mrs. Meyer, my kindergarten teacher, because smelly markers. Need I say more?!?!?<br />
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By the way, isn't my assistant the cutest?!?! She is 4, going on 16, so that's fun.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that you are all winners in God's eyes...just not in my contest. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-67073121893644700982015-08-18T17:58:00.001-07:002015-08-18T17:58:40.282-07:00For the LoveDear, dear friends, it has been oh, say, around 5ish months since I have last had enough silence in my life to type. But alas, I find myself sitting in a quiet house, and decided to be productive via my computer. <br />
<br />
To all the moms out there: this is a tough time of year for our emotions. One minute we are crying tears of joy that school will be starting very, very soon. And the next minute we are crying because we have a little who is starting Kindergarten. And that is just too presh for words. I find myself doing just that these days...dancing my happy dance in the morning when they are all fighting and I get to tear one more chain off of our back-to-school paper chain, and then by bedtime I am cuddling the one I will be sending off to the scary world of big kid school for the first time next Monday. Why God created us with the ability to feel such a range of emotions in one <strike>day</strike> <strike>hour</strike> minute, is beyond me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, in honor of the kiddos getting ready to take flight, but mostly in honor of all the FREE TIME us moms will have to read and think and just do whatever man(can I get an AMEN!?!), I am doing a little give-away. Please keep in mind that last time I did a give-away I ended up buying a book for anybody that commented. That ain't happenin this time. I'm just sayin. It's a one-book deal this time, and it's once again from my favorite author, Jen Hatmaker. She just gets it, ya know!?!?! This book was just released today. TODAY!! I already glued myself to my computer and read the digital download, and now I need glasses, but whatevs, it was totally worth it. This book is pretty much chucked full of good stuff. <br />
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So here's the deal. In honor of school starting, and in keeping with the title of the book, For the Love, all you need to do to enter to win is comment either on here or on the FB link to my post about your favorite grade school teacher and what made them the best. I will be selecting the winner on Friday, so make sure you enter before that.<br />
<br />
Now I am off to cuddle my Kindergarten cutie, so that tomorrow I do my happy dance at the zoo with my crew. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that this post does not in any way, shape, or form indicate that I will be posting regularly again. I plan to fill my free time while the kids are at school with, oh wait, I still have one at home...nevermind...carry on then. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-20602586237514026752015-03-29T19:22:00.000-07:002015-03-29T19:22:20.956-07:00StonedI'm not even sure how to begin this post.<br />
<br />
God speaks to us in all in so many different ways...through song, through nature, through words, through others, through the Bible, and through his Spirit. <br />
<br />
I guess that's where I start with this one...hearing God's word through His Spirit in the middle of the night almost 2 months ago. <br />
<br />
And I've been sitting with this message since. I kept thinking that perhaps God was just kidding about having me post this message. And then I went to Coffee Break and started studying James.<br />
<br />
Ever read it? <br />
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It's, um, not for the faint of heart. Think about everything you have ever said, thought, or done, and you will get called out on all such things in this book of the Bible. <br />
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Be slow to speak, quick to listen. Do not judge. Submit yourselves to God. Be wise. Tame your tongue. If you have faith, you must have deeds. Get it? It's tough stuff that pushes deep. I believe it was while I was studying lesson 4, the one on taming the tongue, that I really felt the words in James were reiterating what the Spirit woke me up to say to me on February 2. <br />
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<i>Stop casting stones.</i><br />
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Um, excuse me? It's 2am, not really the time Lord.<br />
<br />
<i>Stop casting stones.</i><br />
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No really, God, I think this can wait until a humane hour of the day. I need sleep, thanks.<br />
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<i>Stop casting stones.</i><br />
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Apparently it couldn't wait.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVRRp2rVclYnzMGnTZHrLeaUQqo4nvo5SgVo6g8fr3Crb1eqm97AVNlPWpx_UwhQD-tvyelTFjakwW4bb1LKptvi-e7WkK8POQR0wrv1zcT6zfe5uGyFjM76yyDOmOAyv_XZibZJ2JXs/s1600/cropped-stones-and-hands-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVRRp2rVclYnzMGnTZHrLeaUQqo4nvo5SgVo6g8fr3Crb1eqm97AVNlPWpx_UwhQD-tvyelTFjakwW4bb1LKptvi-e7WkK8POQR0wrv1zcT6zfe5uGyFjM76yyDOmOAyv_XZibZJ2JXs/s1600/cropped-stones-and-hands-2.jpg" height="250" width="640" /></a>Do me a favor, dear reader. Go and find a rock. It can be big, small, round, jagged, smooth, rough...I don't really care, just go find one.<br />
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For real.<br />
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I'm not moving on until you do, so go. <br />
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Like right now.<br />
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I'm waiting.<br />
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Ok fine, I'm moving on, whether you have the rock or not. <br />
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Now, hold that rock in one hand while you read the rest.<br />
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Ladies, this is what I need to tell you today: <u>We <i>must</i> stop throwing rocks at each other.</u> Oh no, not in the physical sense, but we hurl rocks at one another multiple times each day.<br />
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"She's a terrible mom because she lets her kids play 2 hours of video games each day."<br />
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"She has gained so much weight after having 4 kids. She really needs to go on a diet."<br />
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"I shouldn't be telling you this, but I hear that Betsy had an affair with Bob. I would never do that"<br />
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"Did you see how naughty their kids were in church and they are adding another one to their family? They are completely crazy, no matter what God is leading them to. They need to be done."<br />
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"Her outfit makes her look terrible. Somebody should tell her that leggings are not pants."<br />
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"Did you see the way that she lost her temper and yelled at her kids?"<br />
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Stone. <br />
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After stone. <br />
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After stone.<br />
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We hurl them at one another without giving much thought to what that rock is doing to the one we are throwing it at.<br />
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This is what God has challenged me to think about: <u>Every single time I use my words to tear another person down, I am throwing a rock at that person.</u> And hurting them.<br />
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We do this, and if you think you don't, well, you do. We all do it. It's satan's way to unleash a beast and destroy relationships. <br />
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James 3:2-12 says, "<i>We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what she says, she is a perfect person, able to keep her whole body in check...the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts...the tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of her life on fire and is itself set on fire by hell...With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father and with it we curse women, <b>who have been made in God's likeness</b>. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My sisters this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My sisters, can a fig tree bear olives or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I am made in God's likeness.<br />
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You are made in God's likeness.<br />
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<i>She</i>, the one I throw stones at, is made in God's likeness.<br />
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So friend, lay that stone down that you have in your hand...and stop throwing them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that I in no way, shape, or form have been able to leave all my stones left unthrown..but I am sure giving it my best shot.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-7782343117957613102015-02-16T20:13:00.002-08:002015-02-16T20:26:16.184-08:00IF<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Um, yes, I look a bit tired. But WHO CARES!?!?!<br />
It's JEN HATMAKER!</td></tr>
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It's not very often that I find myself speechless. This will come as no surprise to many of you. I am a lot like my dad in the sense that I'm pretty sure people want to hear me talk about anything and everything. However, last weekend I found myself in the presence of my BFF, Jen Hatmaker, and I found myself a bit speechless. Star-struck if you will. I wish I would have just remained speechless, but instead I rambled on nervously about how my friends think I stalk her, and on and on and on. Oh.my.lanta. Just stop talking my head is telling my mouth, but I can't. I'm already in too deep and she is already thinking I am beyond psycho and worth filing a restraining order on. <br />
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But then. <br />
<br />
She stood up in front of 2,000 women, and spoke the words God gave her. And I could hear God telling me that she, although quite amazing and cool, is simply doing what He has called her to. She doesn't demand fame or fortune, nor does she live a lavish life. She is just following hard after Him. And all the sudden she went from becoming my invisible BFF who I truly do stalk, to a human walking down a narrow path in a broken world, who said yes to God, the same as I could....IF only I would.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteR8qrIzPiJeK1vobmfVqYxLArqnaPZ4CDDKIa30gVUlaO152_QGylZZPXeQiK7ZZmPxgd90zOPMwgfSgtwabXs7M1SQMXdm9LeEUEdIPbXXUtxAVuk2WZ18rcSj2L2eBwoxvseyk7EQ/s1600/FullSizeRender-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteR8qrIzPiJeK1vobmfVqYxLArqnaPZ4CDDKIa30gVUlaO152_QGylZZPXeQiK7ZZmPxgd90zOPMwgfSgtwabXs7M1SQMXdm9LeEUEdIPbXXUtxAVuk2WZ18rcSj2L2eBwoxvseyk7EQ/s1600/FullSizeRender-17.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>How do I explain this <a href="https://ifgathering.com/" target="_blank">IF:Gathering</a> I attended last weekend with 2,000 other women locally, and hundreds of thousands of other women electronically from all over the globe? It's hard to do at best. <br />
<br />
<br />
Women of Faith on steroids? Perhaps that is accurate.<br />
<br />
<br />
Beyond anything I have ever attended? You could say that.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDB2aXE_6z-IHiGhppUG7FkEtNWFE9b_Dcn3mFDyDdB8xPWOoSyBHDanClA8fEM_rZ7IFsiRxYRlBSLtq5Z20EFH7kgzaoRp2q6T2r67tW8wAmSmjGJ2gIxDpq4-fVx-HqUKBy01A7vz0/s1600/FullSizeRender-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDB2aXE_6z-IHiGhppUG7FkEtNWFE9b_Dcn3mFDyDdB8xPWOoSyBHDanClA8fEM_rZ7IFsiRxYRlBSLtq5Z20EFH7kgzaoRp2q6T2r67tW8wAmSmjGJ2gIxDpq4-fVx-HqUKBy01A7vz0/s1600/FullSizeRender-18.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><br />
God-inspired? Definitely. <br />
<br />
Full of the Holy Spirit? Yes, He was there. <br />
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Moving and inspirational? Quite. <br />
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Challenging and life changing? Certainly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKE13QPWW9sSFMxTfVAMEegPMD465v71YnCHXjNPFikeRkOlpiO_MiSb_CcQkbrs0BbiM3GX5U8ffpXdgiywqnBCRFQhylC9M5Lo2Fusjfs1TB2KbPCHRRyjadEJ_xBgL6qnXKdBlulY/s1600/FullSizeRender-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKE13QPWW9sSFMxTfVAMEegPMD465v71YnCHXjNPFikeRkOlpiO_MiSb_CcQkbrs0BbiM3GX5U8ffpXdgiywqnBCRFQhylC9M5Lo2Fusjfs1TB2KbPCHRRyjadEJ_xBgL6qnXKdBlulY/s1600/FullSizeRender-14.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for our 6:30 flight out of Des Moines. <br />
Austin, TX, here we come!</td></tr>
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<br />
Last October my man surprised me on our anniversary with tickets to this sold-out event, airline tickets, and hotel reservations. Be still my ever loving heart. This man is a keeper. To top things off, my partner in crime for this event was arranged to be none other than my mom. Hear me when I say, I was weeping like a little girl in Bravo after opening such a fab gift. What a rarity to get to take a trip without my littles, and just my mom. Bless my man for making it happen.<br />
<br />
The minute the event started on Friday afternoon we knew there was something happening at this Gathering. Something big. God's spirit was there among us, and it left us sitting on the edge our seats in eager anticipation of what was yet to come.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8OfRODKsQvx_-Tc6MM2O8gGpqT3r_9G5Z46_H3aBFCVHZ6DvV3EKZToOYLx4T4mPv-dexqWB29rgiAErXAcgohL_aBYqWPLIiH8l7i-4ScwNUESdR75WQ_eUUEj1xYuqy1PQHSlTz68/s1600/FullSizeRender-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8OfRODKsQvx_-Tc6MM2O8gGpqT3r_9G5Z46_H3aBFCVHZ6DvV3EKZToOYLx4T4mPv-dexqWB29rgiAErXAcgohL_aBYqWPLIiH8l7i-4ScwNUESdR75WQ_eUUEj1xYuqy1PQHSlTz68/s1600/FullSizeRender-10.jpg" /></a>We sang amazing songs, such as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxxYqSwJRuU" target="_blank">Break Every Chain</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djrY_eFDOwE" target="_blank">Good Good Father</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvLHg6wbj18&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Oceans</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjBtwkoPfGM&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Even So Come</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPkMbhydU9I&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Sovereign Over Us</a>, and more. Listen to them. They are good, and will move you, even while you sit at your computer and pretend to read my blog. And go ahead and sing along with them, God will be pleased with your worship, even if you're in your jammies with your hair in a messy tail and no make-up on. God still loves you woman. <br />
<br />
Speaker after speaker blew us away with what they spoke based on the topic of FAITH, and to be honest, I would never be able to hold your attention long enough to lay out what each one said. I'm just not that cool. So, without further ado, here is my<br />
<u><b>Top 10 Take-away Quotes</b></u> from my weekend:<br />
<br />
1. "Move from lives of sight to lives of faith" -<a href="http://www.jennieallen.com/" target="_blank">Jennie Allen</a>, session 1<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIaj4P9QNsYRnXVFTUmbVhXUkrMRB_ipj4D2J2JLStdlACllTxbLLMTRvVT0a2VW2Nj2Pbnf9hbaxcjLgLq9Y5TJZxsqMMPtq0RYwo-bbc6oxcxspcGoGSdeK6DxW2wwJK5GDFP8l4aM/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIaj4P9QNsYRnXVFTUmbVhXUkrMRB_ipj4D2J2JLStdlACllTxbLLMTRvVT0a2VW2Nj2Pbnf9hbaxcjLgLq9Y5TJZxsqMMPtq0RYwo-bbc6oxcxspcGoGSdeK6DxW2wwJK5GDFP8l4aM/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jen Hatmaker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
2. "God is good. You know it's true in the day, you find out if it's true in the night." -<a href="http://www.jenhatmaker.com/" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker</a>, session 2<br />
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3. "Surround yourself with those who will surround your bed on your last day." -<a href="http://www.bobgoff.com/" target="_blank">Bob Goff</a>, session 2<br />
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4. "God is the Holy Here." -<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" target="_blank">Ann Voskamp</a>, session 2<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAg1lRwLCLw8vtkBuJm_RdiBGJw9ShPnAshZeE0Z_u_xWyRHSyU7iewKHxxf3XlUoGWTyekQWAoh-vhHYiCbnWrR1W_7V_SAkZY1zU78v06kMN7-m8O5Z28uh3Ohnjg-cJERAPlkGa54/s1600/IMG_1297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAg1lRwLCLw8vtkBuJm_RdiBGJw9ShPnAshZeE0Z_u_xWyRHSyU7iewKHxxf3XlUoGWTyekQWAoh-vhHYiCbnWrR1W_7V_SAkZY1zU78v06kMN7-m8O5Z28uh3Ohnjg-cJERAPlkGa54/s1600/IMG_1297.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christine Caine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5. "I am not the God of I was, I'm the God of I AM." -<a href="http://www.christinecaine.com/" target="_blank">Christine Caine</a>, session 3<br />
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6. "Service is the key to destiny. It means you trust God more than you trust your own marketing." -Christine Caine, session 3<br />
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7. "Faithful does not equal fearless. It means you have more faith than fear." -Christine Caine, session 3<br />
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8. "Results are God's responsibility, response is ours." -<a href="http://www.inthenameoflove.com/" target="_blank">Bianca Olthoff</a>, session 4<br />
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9. "Impossible situations are not intimidating to God." -Bianca Oltoff, session 4<br />
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10. "God gives us the grace we need for right now. Not tomorrow, not next week, right now." -<a href="http://www.lynnehybels.com/" target="_blank">Lynne Hybels</a>, session 3<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzoGe1rN5wf7OWJe1RaGH_fq6qOvO1pI8zT7x2l-OdH6RkXRJWJvRCAnOP21PrOslF9TLkVQPNQXcXnMOxwLv6a4KEkEdAd955bq6vkLN2KQer3nqxm18GTBHC22PBEzpVrIxg-JN0dQ/s1600/FullSizeRender-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzoGe1rN5wf7OWJe1RaGH_fq6qOvO1pI8zT7x2l-OdH6RkXRJWJvRCAnOP21PrOslF9TLkVQPNQXcXnMOxwLv6a4KEkEdAd955bq6vkLN2KQer3nqxm18GTBHC22PBEzpVrIxg-JN0dQ/s1600/FullSizeRender-12.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The theme of the whole event remains "IF God is real...THEN what?" So I'm asking myself the same thing. It's one of those scary questions that you maybe would rather not ask, because if you ask, you <strike>might</strike> will get an answer that takes you way, way, way out of your comfort zone. <u>And it is there that you realize you need to have faith in a God that you cannot see, so you can accomplish a purpose that is impossible on your own.</u> <br />
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IF you dare ask yourself what your life should really look like if God is real, then take comfort in this verse as you move forward, because trust me, you will need something to cling to when God calls you to do something crazy...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am before all things, and in Me all things hold together.</i></div>
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<i>-Colossians 1:17</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Please note that my feelings were only a little hurt when Jen Hatmaker didn't address me by name when I met her. It's hurtful when your BFF doesn't acknowledge you in public, but I'm over it. </i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLXa4UGQ_RSP3ubrgYKQbZ4wS3d_nS9RgU5aWmbIVMnZyszbO5AWYCQHgRQ0FXVahWk2C4Gwb58Wgk4y374Z_F4sAxJqTMsvE-zxg_5d8Ylmca0D9U7vq1a-R_kroY8nOPHxG5jggN5c/s1600/FullSizeRender-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLXa4UGQ_RSP3ubrgYKQbZ4wS3d_nS9RgU5aWmbIVMnZyszbO5AWYCQHgRQ0FXVahWk2C4Gwb58Wgk4y374Z_F4sAxJqTMsvE-zxg_5d8Ylmca0D9U7vq1a-R_kroY8nOPHxG5jggN5c/s1600/FullSizeRender-16.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Um, this cutest little necklace<br />was our ticket to the event...<br /></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-56063547797884168052015-02-03T11:52:00.000-08:002015-02-03T11:52:57.446-08:00the boyOn July 23, 2004 I was given a promotion. One that I had been expecting for awhile, but as with all promotions, the timing has to be just right, and everything needs to line up in order for it to happen. The thing about getting a promotion is that there is so much unknown... you are walking unchartered territory, you are expected to work harder and much longer to earn the title you were just given, and others begin to look at you in a different way.<br />
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My promotion gave me a title that I knew I would keep the rest of my life: <i>Mom</i>.<br />
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This sweet <strike>little</strike> pudgy boy entered my life...just one week past his due date.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyl457VK8__pV7_B33a1uHtn0RomhQo6kJrYg9hmSLiNnpoXt1hH5ikgcaxeucxkijUdPGcg3Jdo2EgGJEsBzXl8_AL3kOqaL0IPf8cVzVl086cvKFh2vjtBgU6IOHMI0vsMmtxVXV50/s1600/IMG_0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyl457VK8__pV7_B33a1uHtn0RomhQo6kJrYg9hmSLiNnpoXt1hH5ikgcaxeucxkijUdPGcg3Jdo2EgGJEsBzXl8_AL3kOqaL0IPf8cVzVl086cvKFh2vjtBgU6IOHMI0vsMmtxVXV50/s1600/IMG_0030.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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I almost died. I mean, not literally of course, modern medicine would hardly allow for that, but seriously, I almost died.<br />
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The funny thing about having a baby boy is that almost immediately people check out the size of his hands, or his feet and then comment on how he is going to be a great basketball player someday or how he has the perfect start to be an outstanding football player and he is destined to play baseball because just look at him, he's a boy.<br />
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So you buy balls. Footballs...soccer balls...basketballs...baseballs...all of them in toddler size...collegiate size...professional size...because, well, he's a boy. And boys play sports.<br />
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Then at 4 months old you start dressing your boy up in football jersey's and dream that someday, maybe 18 years down the road, after a lot of practice, your son might be wearing that jersey for real.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing though, and you might want to sit down for this, not all boys have a passion for sports.<br />
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I know. I will give that one a minute to process. <br />
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My boy is one of them.<br />
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Again, I will give you a minute.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong, the kid loves the rush he gets from flying down a mountain at top speeds on his snowboard, all while I sit at the top of the run crying and figuring out how to get down without breaking my old lady hip. And he will shoot hoops or throw the football around a little bit. But his eyes do not twinkle when he has a ball in his hand.<br />
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Our son turned 10 this past summer, and I have learned so much over the past decade about what our culture values, what is acceptable boy behavior, and how we, as a society, make our children feel like they have worth.<br />
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***I feel like I need a disclaimer here...please do not hear what I am not saying. If your child has a passion for sports, is thriving in them, feels valuable and accomplished because of what they do, I think that's great. I get it. And this post is not meant to belittle that at all.***<br />
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Moving on.<br />
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Since the time Holden was a baby it has been my prayer that he would be a boy/man after God's own heart. That God would grant him wisdom. (Sort of like King David, minus the affairs and what-not.) And part of what comes when you pray a prayer like that for your son is that if he is following hard after God, he may not be running hard after the things that his mom or his uncle or his grandpa or his peers or society feels are worthy.<br />
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A few months ago we were sitting in a doctors office and when the doctor came in he asked Holden what he liked to do, to which Holden just sort of shrugged his shoulders. The doctor pried a little more and asked him if he like to play sports. Nope. Then asked if he was a big gamer. Nope. He went on and finally said, "Then what is it man? What do you do for fun?" To which Holden replied, with a sheepish shrug of his shoulder, "I like to work."<br />
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There is no doubt that this child of mine lives to work. He feels validated, important, and fulfilled when he has a job to do. Perhaps much the same way your child feels after hitting a home run or making three pointers for his team. <br />
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I think so often we try to make our kids fit into a mold that our culture has produced. Rather than seeing our kids for who God created them to be, each with unique gifts and talents, we assume they will participate in a particular sport or activity, because "I played it when I was in school and loved it."<br />
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I love in Ephisians 2:10(NLT) where it says, "<i>For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.</i>" And the really neat thing about all of this is seeing how different and unique God made each of us, and how it all works together for His good.<br />
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A few years ago I had to come to terms with reality...I am not a good decorator; I do not love to clean; I can lead praise team at church, but you will never hear a song of mine on the radio; I don't have the desire to run a marathon; my cookies never turn out how they are supposed to; and crafting feels like a form of torture to me. God obviously did not gift me in these areas. And I have wasted so much time comparing myself to others, and pondering what I am not, that for a long time I missed out on some of the good things that God planned long ago for me to do.<br />
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Bummer.<br />
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I'm not sure if it's just a North America thing, or a Pella, Iowa thing or if it's that way all over the world. But I feel like there is so much pressure to always act perfect, look put together, have children that are quiet and well behaved, maintain your figure even after bringing 4 children into the world, bake gourmet treats that are only found and successful on Pinterest and the list goes on. And quite frankly, I have had <i>enough</i>. I have tried to add more flour and less butter to my cookies, but the truth is, baking just really not my gift or passion.<br />
<br />
I have come to realize that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much time, money and effort I put into it, there are certain things that God simply did not create me to do. So take a minute and examine your gifts, and consider what it is that God created you specifically to do. <br />
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And go do it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> took bit of a break from the world of blogging(3 months to be exact) so that I could survive the holidays. Mission accomplished. And now I'm back. Pretty sure the only one that even noticed my hiatus was my mom, but that's cool.</span></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-23413154035372322512014-11-07T13:09:00.000-08:002014-11-07T13:09:44.884-08:00Cleanse: The ReviewWell, I am now on day two post-cleanse and I am still trying to completely form my thoughts and opinion of my cleanse. On one hand, it's nice to not have to start my day off with some pills and my "fiber smoothie." On the other hand, since my ban on certain foods has been lifted, I am more tempted to just start my day off with a bowl full of sugar(i.e. cereal) and load up from there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LEKXakmV3BR563BobtyO7l6ZDRizaLy40_ZC63aXag8WFQyqpyHFes8mSMwg_80BKeqy5hTXBIXH2AWSW1zDkRAl2blXuku0ce2I-30Pl8AsPXCLtUfrgmheUMWKfdVG8bxYW-Lya6c/s1600/IMG_0636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LEKXakmV3BR563BobtyO7l6ZDRizaLy40_ZC63aXag8WFQyqpyHFes8mSMwg_80BKeqy5hTXBIXH2AWSW1zDkRAl2blXuku0ce2I-30Pl8AsPXCLtUfrgmheUMWKfdVG8bxYW-Lya6c/s1600/IMG_0636.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><br />
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Over the past two weeks I have traded Mt. Dew for a Spark drink, chips for carrot sticks, candy for almonds, guacamole for mayo and pizza for salad after salad after salad...<br />
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So here is the good, the bad and the ugly regarding my 10-day cleanse.<br />
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<b>The Good</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FsPAfkJ0zoUnk2qBtgTdmcXBQyS8T3aAFyoXsDI3e-7089JWnfLfju3Ep5xyJMcd_cXEzIfg3wEdelUqDFy6gqP1ZBTzGkKrTZIATP05azyOUNjAv-L3Z1uH4btFycuQBXPgHZwaan4/s1600/IMG_0611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FsPAfkJ0zoUnk2qBtgTdmcXBQyS8T3aAFyoXsDI3e-7089JWnfLfju3Ep5xyJMcd_cXEzIfg3wEdelUqDFy6gqP1ZBTzGkKrTZIATP05azyOUNjAv-L3Z1uH4btFycuQBXPgHZwaan4/s1600/IMG_0611.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
My man and I took our kids to Des Moines last Friday night. At first I was a bit concerned about where I would find something at a restaurant that I could eat. After about 36 seconds of research I decided that Panera was going to be my best option, and the kids love it, so it was a win-win. I ordered a salad that I had found on their website that wasn't on the menu. Hello high maintenance. Instead of the salad I ordered, they brought me their <a href="https://www.panerabread.com/en-us/menu-categories/salads.html#power-chicken-hummus-bowl" target="_blank">Power Chicken Hummus Bowl</a>. I wasn't super excited about the hummus, since I think hummus resembles baby poo, but with 4 hungry kids, an empty stomach of my own, and a desire to please, I thought I would give it a shot. I was pleasantly surprised with the taste of this salad! I'm not sure it looks so appetizing in the picture I took, but it was good, and I would recommend it! So one good thing that came out of this cleanse is that <u>I tried something new, and liked it.</u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wSkfDDeTGWtcWiPEa_vMb9QPD4vE9BhbtLz7yxB3ar7v78N7TqxHfMtEB2ILM62D9z-O5lzI1gHzvURzMF3aLd08J4H1nshBDFNmTTQFmcnUeHDEPv1EbHNwPelvDvFCprfIXy82tZA/s1600/IMG_0639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wSkfDDeTGWtcWiPEa_vMb9QPD4vE9BhbtLz7yxB3ar7v78N7TqxHfMtEB2ILM62D9z-O5lzI1gHzvURzMF3aLd08J4H1nshBDFNmTTQFmcnUeHDEPv1EbHNwPelvDvFCprfIXy82tZA/s1600/IMG_0639.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>Perk number 2 from my cleanse is <u>the amount of extra energy I have!</u> I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not out running a marathon or anything, I don't have THAT much extra energy. But instead of getting in a sugar-slump midday, I find myself perky-ish and my mind is clear(er). Let's be real here, I still have 4 kids that drain me physically, mentally. and emotionally, but I am shocked at how alert I feel. I feel almost human again. <br />
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And then remember how I wrote about that fabulous adult acne I was experiencing? It's pretty much gone. No more Greasy Gracie here. <u>I am now Glowing Gladys</u>.<br />
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On day number 3 when I wanted to quit, and on day number 4 when I wanted was tempted to eat all of the halloween candy rather than hand it out to the kids, and then on day 5 when I wanted a Mt. Dew so bad I could taste it, and day number 6 when I had to resist a Starbuck's White Chocolate Mocha, and day number 7 when I wanted to order pizza, and day number 8 when I made scotcharoos and wanted to lick the frosting bowl out, and on days number 8, 9 & 10 when I just wanted to call it quits, my<u> mom had my back</u>. And that was good.<br />
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<b>The Bad</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenbBjl6AKooPAPKKnEvieTT4zULCISJuBs8ixnfefhHAa3wEsqCKCKuxGRQ5NhJ2YsOzmcdvWHcRyss9Lu0LV202WJx2fMgcOVthofalmDJUSnfOCcthaufNYuaeNYYRTI5MiFc9xuRo/s1600/IMG_0638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenbBjl6AKooPAPKKnEvieTT4zULCISJuBs8ixnfefhHAa3wEsqCKCKuxGRQ5NhJ2YsOzmcdvWHcRyss9Lu0LV202WJx2fMgcOVthofalmDJUSnfOCcthaufNYuaeNYYRTI5MiFc9xuRo/s1600/IMG_0638.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>One of the major draw-backs of doing a cleanse is that <u>I was not always able to eat what my family was eating.</u> For example, Cheeseburgers were on the menu one night, but instead of having a hamburger with cheese, mayo, ketchup, and a bun, I had a plain burger with guacamole on it. I mean, it was good and all, but there is just something about a hamburger that requires all the fixins. Sort of like...</div>
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Love and Marriage, love and marriage, </div>
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go together like a horse and carriage. </div>
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This I tell you brother, </div>
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you can't have one without the other.</div>
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Try, try, try to separate them...it's an illusion</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOk-6ibVuvN404UE9JKIGokr76v_0IsbAsg-S6Ytdch3D3ZK2s3MaUb1x32oIv2_ucGuiZt0on2hbKpWqi_Ty7d2itEVhOQ0EeiExd45s1i_7N64jmx6nxZArweNpRnyUWs4-h8M8QQY/s1600/IMG_0634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOk-6ibVuvN404UE9JKIGokr76v_0IsbAsg-S6Ytdch3D3ZK2s3MaUb1x32oIv2_ucGuiZt0on2hbKpWqi_Ty7d2itEVhOQ0EeiExd45s1i_7N64jmx6nxZArweNpRnyUWs4-h8M8QQY/s1600/IMG_0634.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>Another thing that falls into the "bad" category is <u>my inability to eat what I want, where I want, when I want</u>. I took the girls thru the drive-thru at McDonald's for lunch one day because I am just that dumb, and had to plug my nose so I could resist the temptation of the fries. I mean, come on, THE FRENCH FRIES PEOPLE! I had been gnawing on raw spinach salads for exactly 9 days when this beautiful box of uneaten fries was left on my table. Be still my heart. I am happy to say that I was able to place them in the trash, uneaten, without cheating. And honestly, the only thing that kept me from completely inhaling them was the fact that they were cold by the time I spotted them. And cold fries aren't quite as tempting as hot, greasy, salty fries. Mmmm.</div>
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<b>The Ugly</b></div>
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Here are a few of the sweet things I wanted to eat so bad that I turned ugly when I couldn't...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LMLv4vW8szGRVN5uQVqgRgZsFZsm8pIh7RxLLiWVUEeQrQu0PTUjvGOL4zPDk0OpsXEDHAAIpcbxw5vWGrPNHRsczsVYMZPTrkpDNosUGqvUp0oamuoi4KLiu18oKqmKBSvNk78en34/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LMLv4vW8szGRVN5uQVqgRgZsFZsm8pIh7RxLLiWVUEeQrQu0PTUjvGOL4zPDk0OpsXEDHAAIpcbxw5vWGrPNHRsczsVYMZPTrkpDNosUGqvUp0oamuoi4KLiu18oKqmKBSvNk78en34/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Raw chocolate chip muffin mix. <br />
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By the spoonful if I could.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIluSL26-mb8ITztM8sq801VWkd7AwIKoC9xqwt0S09Irpc7eHd_H67QacU5T__8TMfUYXAEGrirsGakBrDIKx8IeaZbadFuGcORYJSuFpxlqLqXPLz6ANShezyX9YjKviu3M16w-dxw/s1600/IMG_0626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIluSL26-mb8ITztM8sq801VWkd7AwIKoC9xqwt0S09Irpc7eHd_H67QacU5T__8TMfUYXAEGrirsGakBrDIKx8IeaZbadFuGcORYJSuFpxlqLqXPLz6ANShezyX9YjKviu3M16w-dxw/s1600/IMG_0626.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Scotcharoos. Yum.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfiW7kNnRY1JOCx5nM4b909gLV2XrtobQtuHbW9tR_hgaeq25eKB7a75cHEfGHz04vdhwA9QOq38tZTq9L8HMKg1B_C2laOtQ9HNS3mgFjkg_cQPEpNQqeCmxS0Zd3whDfGsC8N2s-0k/s1600/IMG_0605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfiW7kNnRY1JOCx5nM4b909gLV2XrtobQtuHbW9tR_hgaeq25eKB7a75cHEfGHz04vdhwA9QOq38tZTq9L8HMKg1B_C2laOtQ9HNS3mgFjkg_cQPEpNQqeCmxS0Zd3whDfGsC8N2s-0k/s1600/IMG_0605.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Halloween Candy.</div>
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Dying here.</div>
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Overall I am very glad I did the cleanse, and since I am scared to death of the repercussions that come with eating "real" food after doing a cleanse, I am still avoiding sugar and all greasy foods. Which means that my life is still boring. No pop. No candy. No raw cookie dough out of my freezer....yet.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that this cleanse has in no way, shape or form made me better than you. It just made me full of a few less toxins than you, whatever that means. </span><br />
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I am happy to report that yesterday was much better, as is today! Here is a recap of my last 36 hours...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FCV4Dg4qXYN6Mpjncjf-kh6WolUihnOAC8zxy9aaQe81azPNKQ2tRhgtCXGeI-o7CjCpQwXWWtPI6S6zRpZPz3ysjK-tUak6jAz0d53cYJr_GGh_x5bOSPw_QDBq4c2GngMFQOHFwE0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FCV4Dg4qXYN6Mpjncjf-kh6WolUihnOAC8zxy9aaQe81azPNKQ2tRhgtCXGeI-o7CjCpQwXWWtPI6S6zRpZPz3ysjK-tUak6jAz0d53cYJr_GGh_x5bOSPw_QDBq4c2GngMFQOHFwE0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>Yesterday I started my day off on a better foot, found 36 seconds to make and eat breakfast instead of the standard 23, which meant I had time to make an egg, peel a banana, and mix my fiber drink in the blender with ice so it was more of a smoothie per say and less of a glorified cup of Pepto Bismol. <br />
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Then I was off to Des Moines for a shopping day with my mom (and no kids!!! YAAAAAYYYY!!!) My mom is so sweet, she made me a pumpkin flavored smoothie to drink on the way since she knows I like pumpkin pie so much. Aren't mom's the best!?!? So we enjoyed a energy-packed drink on our drive, which totally got us off on the right foot. <br />
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We did a little shopping, and ended up at <a href="http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/" target="_blank">Whole Foods</a> right before lunch. Who knew that there were enough people trying to be healthy in this world that they require their own somewhat over-priced grocery store. Well, my man knew I guess. <br />
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Since we were both feeling a little hangry (that's when your lack of food causes you to become both hungry and angry, frustrated, or both. Look it up, it's in the Urban Dictionary. For reals.) we decided to grab lunch there. Anyway, Whole Foods has this salad bar that is a-ma-zing. 3 different salad bars, with 2 sides each, 90% of which we could eat. Score. This is what we ended up with: Detox Salad(obviously had to get this one), Quinoa, and a corn salad.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is some version of quinoa on top, </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">and a </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">will all want to get some next tine you are near </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a Whole Foods, so you are welcome for the info.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSePE9FbjWqermaCG6UUB_7Ee_iXLhy_ksNBIm_OFNi2ET94J723i95f9snkf4srWsM21dqGNloL5MbLlmCsMzAalqmQ7y10qqt3uP3XoxzUKrAT98Vj6sK8I1MpCQm_viEIZtCLTj0_A/s1600/IMG_0579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSePE9FbjWqermaCG6UUB_7Ee_iXLhy_ksNBIm_OFNi2ET94J723i95f9snkf4srWsM21dqGNloL5MbLlmCsMzAalqmQ7y10qqt3uP3XoxzUKrAT98Vj6sK8I1MpCQm_viEIZtCLTj0_A/s1600/IMG_0579.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
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I'm not sure if it tasted heavenly because we were so hungry, or just because it was that good. But it all totally hit the spot. Even if we were sitting in my mom's truck in the mall parking lot eating it. Classy. You can do that when you don't have messy kiddos in the backseat.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Again, the quinoa is on the left, and a corn radish salad is </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">That is what my pumpkin smoothie was in. Love.</span></div>
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Off to the mall, where, HELLO, things like this are taking shape:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn48uwEOQlh8rD36lwa5oN2eMKklq0G87AbhaP7RmI-nwaq7Iyj3rrli4m2kxEAfdPdpMxBPM51lKcktKFfU0XsgG3jk1e66PEHmB_wFBKO5_hrb1jgDd_4ynKDhCMmyzUdldEwQOI3n8/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn48uwEOQlh8rD36lwa5oN2eMKklq0G87AbhaP7RmI-nwaq7Iyj3rrli4m2kxEAfdPdpMxBPM51lKcktKFfU0XsgG3jk1e66PEHmB_wFBKO5_hrb1jgDd_4ynKDhCMmyzUdldEwQOI3n8/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8TvJhoge2tMMkFHIgjWGal_cfefGv77kzH3I3iVAE5b_C9_OGPtVlVGkWALjiB9UQGbEg4e-I7-zh-_oMkC_dpL0RL5zo0eAYsMfH7WVYBrxtyr7W4b7pacnarsUmEDZrNDI5Y8adFk/s1600/FullSizeRender-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIpAU_nxCI2iuR8B1BANyRyCTjVVhD_7k48gjH8iwMGX_WLK-AU5-86mDaKhqFgQeMRlyiXWWgxULyhNKLEylBs3tS1de_iKeMOD7NfxO0ttcUhOyKw5LSZTADbI4xhipqdqG0zJALzI/s1600/FullSizeRender-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIpAU_nxCI2iuR8B1BANyRyCTjVVhD_7k48gjH8iwMGX_WLK-AU5-86mDaKhqFgQeMRlyiXWWgxULyhNKLEylBs3tS1de_iKeMOD7NfxO0ttcUhOyKw5LSZTADbI4xhipqdqG0zJALzI/s1600/FullSizeRender-8.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8TvJhoge2tMMkFHIgjWGal_cfefGv77kzH3I3iVAE5b_C9_OGPtVlVGkWALjiB9UQGbEg4e-I7-zh-_oMkC_dpL0RL5zo0eAYsMfH7WVYBrxtyr7W4b7pacnarsUmEDZrNDI5Y8adFk/s1600/FullSizeRender-5.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></div>
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Shenanigans! I don't even have costumes for my kids to wear tomorrow night for beggars night, and already Christmas decor has taken over department stores. I mean, Younker's was kind of pretty, but still! The crazy reindeer was a bit overpriced in my opinion. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUO9fxEe9dK94vGGJr7FIv681PZiO_tFzHr-VZLenvgNqzDyfNv5KyDe9Tm4_kedbB4e5TYSS8LzJ695s_6nF1_pDp3TBpr4XPt8vsjRNUIns3l8wk4LTIqA6HcVlRPL06BPxHWKM9dvY/s1600/IMG_0581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUO9fxEe9dK94vGGJr7FIv681PZiO_tFzHr-VZLenvgNqzDyfNv5KyDe9Tm4_kedbB4e5TYSS8LzJ695s_6nF1_pDp3TBpr4XPt8vsjRNUIns3l8wk4LTIqA6HcVlRPL06BPxHWKM9dvY/s1600/IMG_0581.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
Mid afternoon Starbuck's started calling my name, but I held strong and mixed up a grape Spark drink instead. Trust me when I say that it didn't quite taste the same as a white chocolate mocha, but it was ok. <br />
<br />
It did refuel me for a few more hours, and I grabbed a handful of mixed nuts for a little shot of protein, and made it through the afternoon full of energy and happy to continue to shop. Typically by mid-late afternoon I am done. I have no energy left, I am crabby, and my legs hurt. But between the 60 ounces of water I was chugging and these energy drinks, I was shopping on fresh legs all day. Great news for my man.<br />
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One of our stops before dinner was to Nordstrom Rack and Home Goods, which both just opened up by Jordan Creek Town Center. I walked out of Nordstrom Rack empty handed, but I did make a couple of purchases at Home Goods. <br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> This is what I wanted to buy:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPA_-ShbUHh7gOnUlK0h89SQn7kdX4_Pud3PKLckp_ihpw2tLopKmso8c2I85iBHzr50ES4QbpGZdUc0g-FK5FwPiaQA6ukMTi_tma1H2lt-sov_iSKD6WRZ5IP3MPIW-qWTe8oMSCtfA/s1600/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPA_-ShbUHh7gOnUlK0h89SQn7kdX4_Pud3PKLckp_ihpw2tLopKmso8c2I85iBHzr50ES4QbpGZdUc0g-FK5FwPiaQA6ukMTi_tma1H2lt-sov_iSKD6WRZ5IP3MPIW-qWTe8oMSCtfA/s1600/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is what I bought though:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxbCX8sFRCIpibrSV9wvcvxoUFo1RLGQZZWKR62S0MTcXc_WxVG_xByKnd-06fe-_kETiMo1KqfxThRgPG4syfka6vmHOepUzPIggaEdVKX9i_LowrQCL2fXEanIb-emXs8Cjtu_1SrM/s1600/FullSizeRender-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxbCX8sFRCIpibrSV9wvcvxoUFo1RLGQZZWKR62S0MTcXc_WxVG_xByKnd-06fe-_kETiMo1KqfxThRgPG4syfka6vmHOepUzPIggaEdVKX9i_LowrQCL2fXEanIb-emXs8Cjtu_1SrM/s1600/FullSizeRender-9.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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They are pretty much incomparable. Trust me friends when I say one is NOT a substitute for the other. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVTY3G6_fehmB6QIFVOfwIYw1N7cxN9mmroFASm7IEK5gcjNHFoDCSSIJy-Z2vx1DJQTn90zsTxk4W03HkSVN9gmKNGvoX3mNOB1kW-dBC9nsn43tPWJ3IEsQ_qA5PJJmAZXMldvmvgs/s1600/FullSizeRender-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVTY3G6_fehmB6QIFVOfwIYw1N7cxN9mmroFASm7IEK5gcjNHFoDCSSIJy-Z2vx1DJQTn90zsTxk4W03HkSVN9gmKNGvoX3mNOB1kW-dBC9nsn43tPWJ3IEsQ_qA5PJJmAZXMldvmvgs/s1600/FullSizeRender-7.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>Since I was about to cave, it was clearly time to eat again. And again, my amazing mom pulled through with these salads for each of us, which was Organic Spring Mix lettuce with a hard-boiled egg and homemade salad dressing. You can call her Becky Homecky. The only thing that would have made this salad better would have been some of Momma Jane's homemade croutons. But alas, this are on the naughty list for the next week. Sigh. </div>
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<br />
We ate these delish salads in the parking lot of Costco in an attempt to help us resist the aisle of samples, all of which are also on the naughty list this week. Amazingly enough, we were both feeling energetic yet at this point, and conquered Costco like it was our job. <br />
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Here is a picture of my mom and I on our final stop of the night, Target.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAVIMludoaSw8wiYaRPV0Hpf49ChLFYwJUZUsKrxCiVb8C3KdAIAaL9oFT0DmfUuvGMnJqMpvPFg3SkwXqY_7tuvZxBLao4SwVXhlK6Vlko_KGGT8hNZAl-EbrxUwstUWAXAm6YuoIio/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAVIMludoaSw8wiYaRPV0Hpf49ChLFYwJUZUsKrxCiVb8C3KdAIAaL9oFT0DmfUuvGMnJqMpvPFg3SkwXqY_7tuvZxBLao4SwVXhlK6Vlko_KGGT8hNZAl-EbrxUwstUWAXAm6YuoIio/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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We had such a great day, we both felt great all day, even after a 12 hour shopping day. Now maybe I will need to do another spending fast after I get rid of all of my toxins. I can only work on one thing at a time here, friends.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that I am sorry if you're mom isn't as cool as my mom. Mine can't be borrowed or rented out, so don't even try.</span></div>
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<br />
I am not talking about my marriage here. I would say yes to my man a million times over. Although I wonder if he would ask me again if given the chance to do it over? Well, for the sake of argument we are going to say that he would, and move on.<br />
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A good friend of mine started selling <a href="http://www.advocare.com/?gclid=CjwKEAjw2reiBRCaobK3udOj-Q4SJACXWyYmQV-x4_MjMf5tq5HIm7sLxlQnwaYA3Dj0DCfZdWTX7RoC3Prw_wcB" target="_blank">Advocare Products</a> a couple years ago. For awhile I avoided her like a plague because I didn't want her pressuring me into doing something wack like eating healthy. Then after a few <strike>days</strike> months, I realized that she wasn't the pushy type, so I could hang out with her again. <br />
<br />
Fast forward a couple of years.<br />
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About a month ago I was starting to feel very sluggish, and noticed that my face was starting to resemble that of a j-high girl going through the awkward puberty stage. Adult acne is about as awesome as, well, nothing. I did a little research, googled "cleanse" came up with a millions options, of which 'Advocare' was at the top of. Lovely. Clicked on the 'Dr. Oz Cleanse' option, decided I wasn't dedicated enough to go about this on my own....I mean who really has the time or ingredients to make a smoothie each morning that includes flax seeds, coconut water, ginger-flavored kumbocha, silken tofu, carrot juice, beet root, and the like!?!? I have approximately 23 seconds each morning to eat breakfast. Which is pry why I am in this predicament to begin with. Anyway, then I clicked on the Advocare link and read this:<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">Toxins are everywhere – in the foods we eat, the air we breathe and the ground we walk on. These toxins build up in our body and may contribute to weight gain, loss of overall energy and poor skin tone, among other detrimental effects. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiz-tJlflzeurwkn0fItQ1nOEb-DTShkJaCdDOgfrPpHyih4hJQdYplIQ5QnMG7cqXsg3FLdEfyOWFmQtoUAvBn88gAY1zTcoG-aeo0Vu2cXt7CWJD1LqE5dl4L0up3pkhjE0o__G8UM/s1600/W3171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiz-tJlflzeurwkn0fItQ1nOEb-DTShkJaCdDOgfrPpHyih4hJQdYplIQ5QnMG7cqXsg3FLdEfyOWFmQtoUAvBn88gAY1zTcoG-aeo0Vu2cXt7CWJD1LqE5dl4L0up3pkhjE0o__G8UM/s1600/W3171.jpg" /></a></div>
Who knew!?!?<br />
<br />
I was sold.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtycrS7WNfQxfSuGjMMPqKIZ5c90I_NkGm_I1uJBus2WXhXjN5Vjm99Dn1sjv266IKHz55U7B9jW0yMT9KLE6avW80FIA5JaJaZg5SQytC-vohRHvLcq6KITYNtp3ymhBusorSqqrVYT0/s1600/IMG_6630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtycrS7WNfQxfSuGjMMPqKIZ5c90I_NkGm_I1uJBus2WXhXjN5Vjm99Dn1sjv266IKHz55U7B9jW0yMT9KLE6avW80FIA5JaJaZg5SQytC-vohRHvLcq6KITYNtp3ymhBusorSqqrVYT0/s1600/IMG_6630.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a>So then I did what any awesome daughter would do, I suckered my mom into doing this crazy 10 day Herbal Cleanse with me, because I need somebody to lean on when I'm not strong....or laugh with when all I want to do is gnaw my own arm off because I am in udder and complete sugar withdrawal. Anyway, our regiment includes drinking this Peaches & Cream Fiber Drink in the morning. Don't be deceived by the pretty package. It is ew. Just ew. I don't care who makes it, the reality is that no fiber drink is good, and you can't convince me otherwise. I literally gagged it down this morning. Only 5 more of these to go...it's going to be a serious game of mind over matter here.<br />
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And we have to eat healthy, natural foods. Say what!?!?! That's all good, except that I pretty much live on Mt Dew and candy pumpkins right now. THEY GET ME THROGH MY EVER-LOVING, NEVER-ENDING, HOMEWORK-SATURATED, PIANO-PRACTICING, LONG DAY WITH 4 KIDS! The reality is that when I gave up shopping a year ago, I took up eating sugar. Oh, fine, I've lived on sugar my whole life. Read this fine print on the cleanse brochure and weep with me:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RskTiwtwnHNBuehhcdHT_qCyS_2gee1024-xsft9ENhMiLJXdgw1DDM2uFRXOXSmD9fN2MkL44XWmXAuWdLhZ7IIO9fKfOTIyA_txc8wvHVXLueQDiG6ujPlLoVjPc2rCC8PtPGb99w/s1600/IMG_6626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RskTiwtwnHNBuehhcdHT_qCyS_2gee1024-xsft9ENhMiLJXdgw1DDM2uFRXOXSmD9fN2MkL44XWmXAuWdLhZ7IIO9fKfOTIyA_txc8wvHVXLueQDiG6ujPlLoVjPc2rCC8PtPGb99w/s1600/IMG_6626.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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I cannot even.<br />
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When I am hungry, I am crabby. Like, I am talking a 6-week old baby screaming, crying, and kicking their legs crabby. When I am crabby, life goes to pot here. So it was important that I be able to eat something while doing this to keep my energy level up as well as my happy mommy attitude. The beauty of the Advocare cleanse is that for those 10 things I need to avoid for 10 days, there is a whole gammet of things I can eat. And a green smoothie is NOT a required drink. Bless. <br />
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So here's a recap for all of you, showing what I eat on a normal day vs. what I ate today. Please be impressed.<br />
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<u>Normal</u> <u>Cleanse</u><br />
Breakfast: 2 pieces of toast with margarine and Grandma Jam 1 banana<br />
a glass of milk a glass of <i>delicious </i>fiber drink<br />
<br />
Snack: 1 can of Mt. Dew 1 20-oz. bottle of water<br />
A handful of candy 1 banana<br />
<br />
Lunch: Whatever I can find...sandwich, mac'n'cheese, Raw spinach salad with<br />
leftovers, Culver's, etc. chicken breast, blueberries,<br />
And maybe another Mt Dew if I am feeling thirsty apples, and walnuts, with<br />
raspberry vinaigrette*<br />
Water to drink<br />
<br />
Snack: A few crackers and more candy... Spark Energy Drink(not as<br />
bad as it's fiber friend)<br />
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Dinner: Whatever is on the menu board...Strombolli, Grilled hamburger, no bun,<br />
Corn Casserole, BLT's, chips, etc. with tomatoes, onion and<br />
Water lettuce, spinach salad<br />
Water<br />
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*not sure this is legit, but throw me a bone here people, I have been gnawing on raw spinach the whole live-long day<br />
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So far on day one I have not snapped at or strangled anyone yet, so I would consider that a success.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that you are all full of toxins, but Jesus still loves you, so carry on. </span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-58279433707125675562014-10-04T06:41:00.000-07:002014-10-04T06:41:54.965-07:00Unconditional Love12 years ago, this happened:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OHTllOMr9lWOlfWT3KrTS6-EnBm5XRBTUqrX9jsfDMZnJVrOPXBL7E59DUPpp_IhUSOYbOMAAADE40x3apa5vq3eUxpwoPFEmXfcPmWGgpkk1bmWVLrrW_OuEhTQdKNbNoXUBM1biFM/s1600/10:5:02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OHTllOMr9lWOlfWT3KrTS6-EnBm5XRBTUqrX9jsfDMZnJVrOPXBL7E59DUPpp_IhUSOYbOMAAADE40x3apa5vq3eUxpwoPFEmXfcPmWGgpkk1bmWVLrrW_OuEhTQdKNbNoXUBM1biFM/s1600/10:5:02.jpg" height="320" width="230" /></a></div>
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What!?!? And yes, that is my natural hair color, for those of you that have always wondered.<br />
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On that day my man stood up in front of all of our family and friends and spoke these words to me:<br />
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I, Zach, take you Lindsay,</div>
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to be my wife in Christian marriage.</div>
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I promise God, and I promise you that </div>
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I will be Christian in my actions and attitudes. </div>
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I will serve the Lord with you; </div>
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I will provide Christian leadership in our home. </div>
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I will work to meet our financial responsibilities;</div>
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I will be faithful to you and to you alone. </div>
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I will pray for you and encourage you, </div>
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I will weep with you in sorrow, rejoice with you in blessings, </div>
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and be your faithful companion until Christ calls us home. </div>
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I make these promises to you, with the help of God. </div>
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I'm pretty sure I cried. And I'm also pretty sure that I didn't hear a single word that he said to me. Instead, I heard something like this:</div>
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I, Zach, take you Lindsay,</div>
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to be my wife in Christian marriage</div>
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as long as you look put together, never gain weight,</div>
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always do your hair and make-up,</div>
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keep the house clean and organized,</div>
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never wreck a vehicle,</div>
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raise perfect children, </div>
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be amazing all the time,</div>
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never make a mistake,</div>
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never fail.</div>
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I make these promises to you, may God help you.</div>
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From the time we started dating I had myself convinced that my man would only love me <i>if </i>I was perfect. And why would I think differently?!?! We are living in a society where you can get a drive-thru divorce if you want one....not literally, but close(don't worry babe, I just did the research on that for blog-related reasons). </div>
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You don't like how your spouse look? Divorce them. They drive you crazy in a not-so-good sort of way? Divorce them. You found somebody else that is better suited for you than what you have? Then divorce your current spouse and move on. Your marriage is hard and you just don't really want to work at it? Please don't inconvenience yourself or put forth any effort, rather just walk away from that commitment.</div>
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Media and celebrities, and all of culture alike do a great job at hammering home the message that if you aren't <i>the perfect</i> person, then your spouse isn't going to love you. And taking it even further than that, if you don't satisfy your spouses needs or meet their every expectation, then they have every right to walk away due to irreconcilable differences. I don't even know what that means.</div>
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Over the last 12 years I in no way have been the perfect spouse. I have thrown temper tantrums. I have been selfish, demanding, and all sorts of unloving. It's hard to believe, but I might have one or two annoying habits(but really, it's probably just one). There have been ugly haircuts that made me all sorts of unattractive. There have been bouts of morning sickness and days of waking up to morning breath. My chest has deflated itself and my love handles have grown. Grey hairs have taken over my head, and varicose veins now decorate my legs. I know there are <strike>many</strike> more things about me that gives my man reason walk away from me in the worlds eyes, yet he hasn't. And the devil reminds me often(at lease once an hour) about how imperfect I really am. How I am completely unworthy of love. <br />
<br />
God's love. <br />
<br />
My man's love. <br />
<br />
Anyone's love. <br />
<br />
He spews lies at me, telling me that there is no possible way my man would ever want to be "with" me based on how my body looks right now. He can't possible be turned on by this aging, sagging, deflated, jiggly body. He has me convinced that my man's love is very dependent on me. The devil is trying to get a foothold, create a crack on our marriage, so that he can wedge himself in there and create distance and pain. And you know what, some days it works. There are days that I eat up those lies he feeds me like a yummy piece of Hershey's Chocolate cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory(SO, SO good, by the way, and worth every calorie). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt__CzhJBrMN2ULFnPQMHekufZspAEcdmhhSYzGqJvksK-PVyL3WTOgCgG2PNcUkSkuzqaDS9-rwjlivL4vhHZPuCyo3q2_1Fo17FNx5dUGgy5ZwtaYwPhsh3jMtxi7Frkgl9hjM-XUUo/s1600/IMG_3106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt__CzhJBrMN2ULFnPQMHekufZspAEcdmhhSYzGqJvksK-PVyL3WTOgCgG2PNcUkSkuzqaDS9-rwjlivL4vhHZPuCyo3q2_1Fo17FNx5dUGgy5ZwtaYwPhsh3jMtxi7Frkgl9hjM-XUUo/s1600/IMG_3106.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
But this guy, the one I committed myself to long before we said, "I do," he doesn't believe those lies. And he doesn't love me only on a good day or a pretty day. He loves me on those days that I can't find time for a shower and my hair is a mess. He loves me when I am dressed up and on a date with him. He loves me when I am acting ugly, and when I am being lovely. He loves me after a disagreement and when I am cordial. <br />
<br />
<br />
His love is not conditional. </div>
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The pastor that married us used 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, which also happens to be the verses Zach used when he proposed to me. I'm sure you just about know that passage by heart...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_AwV5n9zg6j92y3C5HoRCmMEDd_qh2RO25ehCFVCOWGcwHY3vMk66LTUM4EVAr7sPh6RbffbeMKlV5YK0dqdzVvsNIRW1y-9vueFCRv9Y-390YLdRYDYjAl4vWTNXnmdKMJPhjho_nk/s1600/cadc3f5efe279f517876e5c20fd3e273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_AwV5n9zg6j92y3C5HoRCmMEDd_qh2RO25ehCFVCOWGcwHY3vMk66LTUM4EVAr7sPh6RbffbeMKlV5YK0dqdzVvsNIRW1y-9vueFCRv9Y-390YLdRYDYjAl4vWTNXnmdKMJPhjho_nk/s1600/cadc3f5efe279f517876e5c20fd3e273.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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It's some-what cliche, but it still speaks volumes, especially in our world today. I came across these footnotes in my bible a couple of years ago, based on Matthew 5:31-32:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOtpOTQIFRo7oZbcGE0rgaoCeKtFPhwuCnoUO8tWYQi34FSL8VrqKo8Jr1H9_Z9gr0HUh9U1dL8g1Q1M5S0jqLFnty-yXmU3RV_hQr7RV1DEDt6Ncfa77FuOTTdRD7Vg5kZpvGABH3ys/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOtpOTQIFRo7oZbcGE0rgaoCeKtFPhwuCnoUO8tWYQi34FSL8VrqKo8Jr1H9_Z9gr0HUh9U1dL8g1Q1M5S0jqLFnty-yXmU3RV_hQr7RV1DEDt6Ncfa77FuOTTdRD7Vg5kZpvGABH3ys/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" /></a></div>
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<u>Unconditional love doesn't just happen on it's own. It has to be very, very intentional</u>. And what I've found, especially after having kids, is that for me it's easier to give unconditional love than it is to receive it. The devil is always ready to pounce on my flaws and remind me that if only I was better at this or more of that, then people would love me. </div>
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I think what I hate the most is how hard the devil works at convincing me that I am nothing and not worthy of love. </div>
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But what I love the most is that I have this great guy and an even greater God on my side working harder to convince me that what the devil says simply isn't true.<br />
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And you're gonna have to face it, what it really boils down to, is that my man is simply addicted to love...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/XcATvu5f9vE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that my blog is a form of free therapy for me. Sorry if I say too much, but rest assured that with each paragraph typed, there is one that I leave untyped in my head. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-13171383807283139262014-09-28T12:11:00.002-07:002014-09-28T12:11:53.698-07:00WalkFor the past 10 years I have pushed a stroller on my walk. A single stroller, then a double, back to a single, back to a double, and finally a single again. I have pushed my children hundreds of miles around the streets of our quaint little town. For many years my stroller chased the wheels of a bike ridden by one of my older kids. <br />
<br />
That all changed about a month ago, when this happened:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDQas9s3ShIEJFtxk92_QKgGyjui5akGHFZFCxvWkbJMS1JWy97-ijQLZZtPLJi97UkmMeRQb_TnEghd4A5DDGAk7h2H9Sfm-ZrmaS8R7UJgiLMCCzmJY2292eMo-VlwdHEKnitiZiiA/s1600/IMG_6418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDQas9s3ShIEJFtxk92_QKgGyjui5akGHFZFCxvWkbJMS1JWy97-ijQLZZtPLJi97UkmMeRQb_TnEghd4A5DDGAk7h2H9Sfm-ZrmaS8R7UJgiLMCCzmJY2292eMo-VlwdHEKnitiZiiA/s1600/IMG_6418.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Our baby started school. Three School to be exact. And that left me with an empty stroller on my walk a couple of mornings a week. For a moment I considered pushing an empty stroller on my walk around town, but after considering how much crazier that would make me look, I decided to leave my wheels at home and hit the pavement solo.<br />
<br />
I had been longing for this day for, well, 10 years. A walk. By myself. Quiet. Relaxing. No snacks to dish out. No one begging me for a drink of my water (that I desperately need to survive). No one asking me questions every 2.5 seconds(I'm not even kidding about that number. I've timed it before.) No one chucking books or toys in the grass when they are done playing with them.<br />
<br />
Just me.<br />
<br />
And when I took off that first day after dropping our baby off at school, I suddenly felt very, well, exposed I guess is the word. For 10 years I have hid behind that stroller. As long as I had the stroller in front of me I had an excuse to stop mid-jog, for the "needs" of my child. My legs, which aren't exactly that of a teenager anymore, were hidden quite nicely behind the stroller. And with that stroller out in front me I had my hands full, so I wasn't able to take on more.<br />
<br />
And that all changed, quite quickly on that Tuesday morning in early September for me as I left my baby behind and took off on my own.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I could hear God speaking to me, which I'm sure He tried to do earlier, but was drowned out by the one in the stroller seat. And what He said has changed me, "No more hiding. No more using your kids as an excuse for your lack of involvement in My Kingdom. Take your eyes off of the space in front of you and look around at the needs that surround you. Those hands that are accustomed to gripping a handle? Use them. Stop hiding and start working for Me."<br />
<i><br /></i>
And I immediately wanted my stroller back. <br />
<i><br /></i>
I wanted to hide. I preferred to be too "busy" with my own life to hear God calling me to do more. <br />
<i><br /></i>
I had heard that voice before, the one that calls you when you are least expecting it. The voice that asks you to do something that you weren't exactly thinking about. And I wanted to ignore it then too. But all of the sudden it makes sense. If I want a real faith, one that takes me places I don't really want to go, then I have to be listening for that voice that will prompt me towards "good works, which God prepared beforehand, that I{we} should <i>walk</i> in them." (Ephesians 2:10, ESV, emphasis added).<br />
<br />
After 10 years of hiding, God is calling me to take steps of faith in my journey, trusting Him when things don't make sense. Leaning on Him when I am at the end of me and He has called me to give more. Walking a road that is not one on my map. <br />
<br />
It's scary, it's crazy, it's overwhelming, but it's good, because God is good. All the time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Please note that I fully believe that raising kids who love and know God is kingdom work in and of itself. But apparently doing that with 4 kids isn't quite enough, and God has something more in mind...so if I look crazy scared or tired or stressed out next time you see me, give me grace as I walk in faith....oh wait, I've looked that way for the past 10 years, so I will probably just look "normal". </i></span><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-2626417337756811022014-08-25T14:15:00.001-07:002014-08-25T14:20:28.756-07:00Drumroll, please...Thanks to all {5} of you that left a message on my last post. It was good for my soul to read that we would all struggle to give things up. It's hard to open yourself up and be honest, but when you do, I think God starts working. Before you know it, you will all be doing a spending fast, starting a blog, and telling your man all sorts of crazy stuff that you think God is telling you. Maybe my man needs to start a blog for a support group...hmmm.<br />
<br />
Anyway, today was the day to pick the winner of Jen Hatmaker's book <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank">Interrupted</a>, and I am just so, so excited to pass this book on. So without further ado, here it goes(and in the absence of my editor, his cute assistant stepped in to help)...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsfmSdbrQhunUeiKjmEmKdcS2F_Cjw2gr9e_P9YlHiUB9EqpGGRez5_TrTKJOI3iRXRJI11JnBqKW8E5BUdgE-NlrEBuP0VVTxg7ydPvK3cS0V6LJQJAszCWtPIgxM0lcB0N_BvGgAeA/s1600/IMG_6383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsfmSdbrQhunUeiKjmEmKdcS2F_Cjw2gr9e_P9YlHiUB9EqpGGRez5_TrTKJOI3iRXRJI11JnBqKW8E5BUdgE-NlrEBuP0VVTxg7ydPvK3cS0V6LJQJAszCWtPIgxM0lcB0N_BvGgAeA/s1600/IMG_6383.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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The names of 5 fabulous ladies...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmhc2KchKjUtKIE6ra0ivF8aCUoyThCtGt2mW0ISvNNReQdrHUqf_M63Ze_sTLPoeQ6DzqfFha8j0BY-F4-rkAF0bQSNBEWxJZUJXZBG2Zn52jZRqGGM0ocXI9v2EcKmfX2LbWQsbxa8/s1600/IMG_6387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmhc2KchKjUtKIE6ra0ivF8aCUoyThCtGt2mW0ISvNNReQdrHUqf_M63Ze_sTLPoeQ6DzqfFha8j0BY-F4-rkAF0bQSNBEWxJZUJXZBG2Zn52jZRqGGM0ocXI9v2EcKmfX2LbWQsbxa8/s1600/IMG_6387.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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...are carefully folded up and put in the bucket... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WCoNNWXn0vep0-SVWVcw_c3H9CybfGVat8AfsoRwAMFZ4C4GFTapmI2C81jI2QJ2Pw5vfHRgH0ZOGtQDbkt1B5hEjbZgCrwIuPM6v_nQ3MwbOtPPWU9A3MjWVNAPDDNgbEy7nMhGBw8/s1600/IMG_6388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WCoNNWXn0vep0-SVWVcw_c3H9CybfGVat8AfsoRwAMFZ4C4GFTapmI2C81jI2QJ2Pw5vfHRgH0ZOGtQDbkt1B5hEjbZgCrwIuPM6v_nQ3MwbOtPPWU9A3MjWVNAPDDNgbEy7nMhGBw8/s1600/IMG_6388.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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...the bucket gets a shake... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbEbwjrVjERHJdnFFX5N2y99_lYqY3ewgbjQOawqrzRwqULrdWjZ79-hjUjScAP20x8VVO2iaC-VIRj5eBcyzG2koPeXl13DnqpkKAx_pFk4gs0gRgrsQJm-zzSE5qx83-MlOtm81yBY/s1600/IMG_6392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbEbwjrVjERHJdnFFX5N2y99_lYqY3ewgbjQOawqrzRwqULrdWjZ79-hjUjScAP20x8VVO2iaC-VIRj5eBcyzG2koPeXl13DnqpkKAx_pFk4gs0gRgrsQJm-zzSE5qx83-MlOtm81yBY/s1600/IMG_6392.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...and the winner is Becky!</div>
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Now, in true Lindsay-fashion, when I was ordering my book from Amazon, I put not 1, but 5 copies of this book in my cart. I have a little problem, which includes giving things away(ask my man, I would give you the shirt off his back if you really needed it). So, although Becky's name was the one drawn from the bucket, I am going to give everybody that commented on my <a href="http://lifesjourneyhere.blogspot.com/2014/08/interrupt-me.html" target="_blank">last post</a> their very own copy of <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank">Interrupted</a>. I know this is not quite as exciting as when Oprah gave away her favorite things at Christmas time, but if you want to jump up and down and scream and fall on the floor in excitement, I would appreciate it. </div>
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To the rest of you that are looking to have Jesus wreck your comfortable Christianity, order your copy of Jen's book by clicking <a href="http://www.navpress.com/Interrupted-Jesus-Wrecks-Comfortable-Christianity/dp/1631463535#sthash.HpyUQB8i.pzVSBIE8.dpbs" target="_blank">here</a> or you can find it on Amazon and at your local Barnes and Noble. You will be changed after reading this book. Now go get wrecked for Jesus.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that I wish I could send every single one of you a copy of this book....but then I wouldn't be able to feed my family, and apparently that's a problem. So Courtney, Jen, Jean & Sarah, please e-mail me your mailing address at zldevries@hotmail.com and I will get your copy in the mail, and feed my family too.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-83841421144796870562014-08-18T15:54:00.000-07:002014-08-19T15:04:34.389-07:00Interrupt MeHave you ever picked up a book, just for the "fun of it", and then a couple of <strike>chapters</strike> <strike>pages</strike> paragraphs into it you realize that after reading it your life will not, cannot ever be the same? (It's at this point that you wonder if you should keep reading, or perhaps just tuck that precious little book away for another day.) That is what this book:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVFBTJUkRTC1sXLS3cXpRnHLRg1Kt9HUmiL5XDdfHN51lkYwcX_KtEbUlErBeSC5V0abW-8utjlgSgPnsiRBy8c55EW7hoYZKU3ttbKrm61mNmqgUK0IVDkfkOyQXPfBOmNURw90jvCA/s1600/interrupted.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVFBTJUkRTC1sXLS3cXpRnHLRg1Kt9HUmiL5XDdfHN51lkYwcX_KtEbUlErBeSC5V0abW-8utjlgSgPnsiRBy8c55EW7hoYZKU3ttbKrm61mNmqgUK0IVDkfkOyQXPfBOmNURw90jvCA/s1600/interrupted.png" height="320" width="282" /></a></div>
did <strike>for</strike> to me. <br />
<br />
God bless you <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker</a>. I'm pretty sure we would be bff's, if only we didn't live 5 states apart. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLml78_yJfzREc6wTxveCE5cLjXNOYPfShXlsuAErjS2HSvbJTiyUI5ZR0cscYA9Mvhyphenhyphen7-QqdOGjhBwHes26hzl65UOK6yW4j8ra-er2mAsLccmkJdzgGOTVI1YsQUYkQWACBS5T3vR4/s1600/Hatmaker_Jennifer_Author_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLml78_yJfzREc6wTxveCE5cLjXNOYPfShXlsuAErjS2HSvbJTiyUI5ZR0cscYA9Mvhyphenhyphen7-QqdOGjhBwHes26hzl65UOK6yW4j8ra-er2mAsLccmkJdzgGOTVI1YsQUYkQWACBS5T3vR4/s1600/Hatmaker_Jennifer_Author_photo.jpg" height="259" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
And in case you are unfamiliar with her<br />
(I feel sorry for you), here's a little info:<br />
<br />
Jen Hatmaker is the author of <i>7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess </i> and A Modern Girl's Bible Study series. With a heart for her generation, she speaks at conferences around the country. Jen resides in Austin, Texas, with her husband, Brandon, and their five children. </div>
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I started with her book <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/7-jen-hatmaker/1110788490?ean=9781433672965" target="_blank">7: an experimental mutiny against excess</a> and when that didn't rock my world enough(insert sarcasm), I moved on to <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank">Interrupted</a>. And my whole world shook. This is not a warm-fuzzy book, or one for the faint of heart. It hits home, and it hits hard. <br />
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You are going to want the following items with you <strike>if</strike> when you sit down to read this book:<br />
-Pen/pencil<br />
-notebook<br />
-highlighter<br />
-kleenex(for when you cry because your heart is breaking, and for when you cry because you are laughing so hard)<br />
-a nice quiet place to just be you, every sniffle-nose and runny mascara part of you<br />
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I underlined and/or highlighted about 90% of the book, all while feeling God nudging me to move. Jen touches on how to go from being essentially on the top of the economic ladder to falling to the bottom, to serve those at the bottom. The challenges keep coming, one after the other. Making you question if you are really doing enough for God. Here is one beautiful quote:<br />
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When Jesus told us to "take the lowest place" (Luke 14:10), it was more than a strategy for social justice. It was even more than wooing us to the bottom for communion, since that is where He is always found. The path of descent becomes our liberation. <i>We are freed from the exhausting stance of defense.</i> We are no longer compelled to be right and are this relieved from the burden of maintaining some reputation. <i>We are released from the idols of greed, control, and status.</i> The pressure to protect the house of cards is alleviated when we take the lowest place.</div>
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(page 72-72, emphasis added)</div>
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About nine months ago, God started interrupting my journey, and challenging me with the same question Jen has challenged all of us with...<i><u>What would you struggle to give up if Jesus wanted to use your life to make a difference in the world?</u></i></div>
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Well, there's shopping, spending money on useless things, finding comfort in material possessions, and maintaining a certain reputation...just to name a few. After my 6-month shopping fast I was thinking that perhaps God was actually done interrupting my life, but as it turns out, He wasn't. I read Jen's first release of <u>Interrupted</u> in January, and then along came this awesome opportunity to read and review the revised version of it, and I could just hear God saying, "Dear naive one, you have so, so, so much to learn yet. What you think you have loosened your grip on, you are still holding onto way too tightly. And things are about to get real. Enjoy the ride."</div>
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God spoke to me through Jen time and time again in this book...in regards to American consumerism, Jen had this to say:</div>
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Americans living in excess beyond imagination while the world cries out for intervention is an unbearable tension and utterly misrepresents God's kingdom. While the richest people in the world pry to get richer, the rest of the world endures unimaginable suffering with their faces pressed to the window of our prosperity...and we carry on, oblivious.</div>
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(Page 31)</div>
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Listen, dear, lovely readers, we(meaning you and me) are included in those Americans living in excess. Sorry if that stings a little. But I'm not really. I have food to feed my family of 6. I drive a bus that gets about 14 miles to the gallon on a great day with a strong tail-wind. My kids go to an amazing school that is loaded with above-average teachers, and it's clean. My family drinks clean water, right out of our tap. My house is almost cold inside on a 90 degree humid Iowa day. My life is cushy...and there are people living "out there" whose aren't. </div>
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And to that Jen says:</div>
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The blessed and the lost will be separated based on one principle: </div>
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the care of the oppressed. </div>
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The end.</div>
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(page 103)</div>
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I mean, just let that soak in. And I am in NO way trying to guilt-trip you here. I think it all goes back to the idea of "blessed to be a blessing." And rather than <i>just</i> blessing the blessed, because honestly, it's quite easy to do that, take it one step further and bless the least, for <i>whatever category renders a person least in our minds--bear the face of Jesus.(</i>page 106) It's amazing how different this can look for each of us too. Are the <i>least</i> living in your town? In your neighborhood? In your state? In another country? Serve them wherever they are...wherever God has placed a passion. Serve there. And perhaps not just with money, but with your hands, as Jen talks about:</div>
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I'd like to be great because we battled poverty with not just our money but our hands </div>
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and hearts. I desire the greatness that comes from seeking not only mercy </div>
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but justice for those caught in a system with trapdoors.</div>
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(Page 83)</div>
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You guys, I cannot say enough good about this book. Jen loves, she steps up to the plate, and then she challenges. And if you are not up for a God-awakening challenge, then please do not even think about reading this book. But if you are ready to step out, to do something far beyond yourself, if you are ready for God to interrupt you, like He <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/7-jen-hatmaker/1110788490?ean=9781433672965" target="_blank">Interrupted</a> Jen, and like He is doing to me, then please, please, please read <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/7-jen-hatmaker/1110788490?ean=9781433672965" target="_blank">this book</a>. And watch God work in your life. </div>
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So, again, the question:</div>
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What would you struggle to give up if Jesus wanted to use your life </div>
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to make a difference in the world? </div>
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<u>Leave your answer to that question below for a chance to win a free copy of <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank">Interrupted</a>.</u> </div>
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{1 winner will be chosen at random by my cute editor}</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that if you want to read her book, but don't think you want to really buy it, I have exactly 2 things to say...1) You can't borrow my copy because it's so marked up you wouldn't even be able to read it, and I'm just not really into sharing, and 2)You might as well just buy your own copy because if you are lucky enough to find it in-stock at your library, you will have to pay for it after you are done reading it because you too, will highlight all of it.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-2604725017928401562014-07-23T18:51:00.000-07:002014-07-23T18:57:36.151-07:00Issues of the heart: jealousyHe had already put in a full day of work, leaving well before my eyes were ready to open for the day. His job that day had taken him out of town, and after his work day was done, he drove straight to his next project, which left me sitting at home barefoot and pregnant entertaining our nearly 1-year-old son on my own for yet <i>another</i> evening. Alone.<br />
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I knew what my next step had to be. I was planning in my head how I would pack a bag for my son and I, and we would drive out to my parents house and stay with them, assuming they would have us as house guests, indefinitely. It seemed like the best solution, according to the little voice in my head. The little voice that tells me that if my man really loved me he would put me before any project. He would see that I needed him at home helping raise our son worse. He would be giving me the time and attention I need each day to feel loved. That little voice had me so convinced that the only solution to the problem was giving up on my marriage. This is not what I had signed up for when I said, "I do". When I made that vow less than 3 years earlier to love my man, I had visions of taking family strolls around the neighborhood; sitting on the floor reading books to our son together; taking our baby to the park to play; spending time together. Not sitting at home jealous of a project that was stealing my man's time from me.<br />
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I was burning with anger, and my love tank was on 'E'.<br />
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Not <i>that</i> kind of love tank. Ew. <br />
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The love tank that Gary Chapman talked about in his book "<a href="http://www.5lovelanguages.com/" target="_blank">The 5 Love Languages</a>." We had read that book together, and established that my love language is quality time. Which would explain why I was overcome with jealousy towards a project. I was jealous that my man would give his few free hours each day to something other than me. I understand that makes me sound, well, a little immature or childish or whatever. But I need <u>time</u> to feel loved. (If you want to find out what you need to feel loved, read that book, you will not be disappointed.)<br />
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I remember when I was in about 5th grade and my teacher, Mr. B, would talk about how God was a jealous God. It was such a funny concept to me, because it had been hammered in my head that we weren't supposed to be jealous of others and what they have, yet this God who is over all and above all is jealous. <br />
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Exodus 20:4-6(NRS), states, "<i>You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a </i>jealous<i> God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments."</i><br />
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If that passage isn't clear enough, flip a few pages to the right where Moses tell us in Deuteronomy 4:28, "<i>For the Lord your God is a devouring fire, a </i>jealous<i> God."</i><br />
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God demands my exclusive loyalty and affection. Just as I was demanding that from my man. And all the sudden I understand what my teacher was talking about a few years ago. God wants all of me...my time, my attention, He wants to know that He matters to me. It seems to me that God has lots of love languages...quality time, acts of service, gifts, etc. And when I fail to show my love to Him in those ways he becomes jealous, just like I did.<br />
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And it makes sense, doesn't it? <br />
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Just as I was jealous of the time my man was giving to his project, and I was left feeling forgotten, so God feels when I fill my time with things other than him...Facebook, e-mail, movies, television, exercising, and the list goes on. One pretty awesome thing about God though is that he isn't tempted to pack His bags and call it quits. We are given that promise in Hebrews 13:5, "<i>Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you."</i><br />
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Praise the Lord for that.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that even if I would have gotten up enough courage to pack my bags and drive out to my parents, I am about 99.9% sure that my dad, in all his wisdom, would have told me to get my bottom back in my car, drive back home, and fight for my man and my marriage....dad's really do know best...</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-5030880683158122692014-07-14T12:46:00.003-07:002014-07-14T14:44:37.479-07:00On becoming 35It didn't just happen overnight. It took 12,780 days to accomplish what I am about to do.<br />
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That's right friends, I am on the brink of turning 35 fabulous years old. Well, 35 used to be old, like when I was 21. But I am starting to think that 35 is the new 21. Right? Just smile and nod.<br />
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Well, if I could talk to my 21-year-old self, there are so many things I would say, like the following...<br />
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Enjoy those smooth legs that don't jiggle or resemble cottage cheese, your lack of love handles that really aren't that lovely, your bladder control, abs, non-jiggly toned upper arms, and your perky chest that is a far cry from the deflated-balloon look that is coming. Ok, who am I kidding, I've never really had a chest, but I had to put it in there. You might think your body will never age, but you are oh so wrong. You too shall fall victim to gravity.<br />
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Have fun, but not too much fun. Soon enough you will be watching Barney and eating stale Goldfish, so take time to enjoy the here and now, and don't get lost longing for "someday".<br />
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Read your Bible. Over. And over. And over again.<br />
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Try not to get so caught up in the little things, that you loose sight of the big picture. <br />
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You are not the center of the universe. So stop acting like you are.<br />
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Save yourself $20,000 and quit school...your real job someday won't care if you know about Corporate Finance or Business Law or Computer Programing or Calculus. Your employer will be more concerned with your ability to build towers, play house, read books, and give good-night kisses.<br />
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Have patience. And remember that His ways are not your ways. And that's ok.<br />
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Sleep. A lot. To make up for the years to come when you will not sleep so much.<br />
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Don't be scared to try new things. People will always have opinions on what you should or should not do, but the most important thing is to follow hard after what God is calling you to. Learn how to play the violin, sky dive, grow a garden, sing on praise team at church, start that blog...oh wait, when I was 21 there was no such thing as a blog...<br />
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Break up with that boy. He might be a great guy, but there is one that is even greater for you, so don't waste your time on another.<br />
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Give grace...especially to that greater guy I just mentioned.<br />
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Stick with only getting your ears pierced.<br />
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Love your brown hair...it will not always be just brown.<br />
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Eat dessert after every meal...your metabolism is at it's prime, and by the time you reach 35 you will only need to <i>think</i> about eating dessert for those calories to haunt you.<br />
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Stop judging everybody and start assuming the best in them. <br />
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Don't blink, because before you know it you will be 35.<br />
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And last but not least...The best is yet to come. You might think life is good and full right now, that going to college and hanging with friends all day is as good as it can ever get, but you are so, so wrong. Pretty soon you will be hanging out with mini-yous all day, watching them develop into these little people and every milestone will be amazing. You will be married to your best friend, the one who laughs with you, hugs you when you cry, and holds your hand when times get tough. And that is better than anything that being 21 could offer.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that despite the fact that I am starting to feel a little older, I would never trade being 35 for being 21 again...well, maybe for like 1 day I would trade my body. But that's all. Oh, and perhaps a full night of sleep.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-91744038225910210342014-07-11T13:42:00.000-07:002014-07-11T14:24:27.509-07:00Smart {phone}I said I would never do it.<br />
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And then I forgot 2 of my girls' doctors appointments. And a few-ish tutoring sessions for my son. And a dinner date with some friends. Ok fine, and an Art Center class for my daughter.<br />
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Then this showed up:<br />
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This is like my man's dream come true. He is so techy, and I am so, well, not.<br />
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I bet you are thinking to yourself, "What the what!?!? She just cut up her credit card only to spend an unreasonable amount of money on a phone!?!? I don't get it!"<br />
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Well, neither do I sweet readers, but I do know that this gadget has a calendar app that I plan on wearing out. This sweet little rectangle of wires is going to remind me, multiple times when I have an appointment that I am about it miss. When I am on a bike ride with the kids at the lake, it will let me know that I am really supposed to be sitting in the doctors office with 2 of them.<br />
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Bless.<br />
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But from the minute this pretty white life-organizer showed up, I can feel it pulling me.<br />
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"Check for messages!"<br />
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"Take a selfie, because you can now without having to guess where to hold your phone all while smiling at nobody!"<br />
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"Make sure nobody has updated their Facebook status in the last 2 1/2 minutes."<br />
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"Text somebody. ANYBODY!"<br />
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Ugh...and it beeps all the whole live long day about who knows what!?!?! <br />
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So my question today is this: Is a smart phone <u style="font-style: italic;">really</u> that smart?<br />
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And my answer is: the verdict is still out.<br />
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iPhone's slogan is, "<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You're more powerful than you think. With iPhone 5s you have the power to do everyday things in extraordinary ways, and extraordinary things every day."</span><br />
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I think cell phones are great for a multitude of reasons, one being that my kids can get ahold of me if they have an emergency. But on the flip side, I have noticed that my son especially thinks that <i>everything</i> is an "emergency." <br />
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I also think they are great when it comes to communicating with people who are difficult/impossible to get ahold of, like a busy mother of 4. However, they take that mother of 4 away from being a mother to those 4 when said mom is on the phone at the grocery store...and park...and in the <strike>bus </strike>truck.<br />
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It's fun that my kids can sit quietly through an entire dinner out while entertaining themselves with a game on my phone, yet I have just lost precious time that I could have been talking with them.<br />
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I love that I will have the ability to take video and/or pictures of my kids doing essentially everything all day everyday, but I have come to realize that sometimes the only lens we need to look through to capture the moment is the one God gave us.<br />
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Oh I could go on and on, but I will wrap it up by saying that I think as long as I am smart about using my phone, it will make me "smarter," but it can quickly turn even the smartest people into the dumbest...especially when they walk into a pole while looking down to check Facebook. Apple, there isn't anything extraordinary about that.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that this post was not intended to brag at all about what phone I have, but rather to warn myself especially of the dangers that come along with such a smarty pants.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-62687195794115124122014-07-08T12:41:00.001-07:002014-07-09T07:51:53.333-07:00The Break-upDear Credit Card,<br />
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This relationship is not working out.<br />
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We've been having problems for some time now, as you may know.<br />
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It's not you, it's me.<br />
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But ok, really it's you...</div>
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I hate the way you let me use you, abuse use, and take advantage of you. I wish you had a backbone and put up a fight sometimes. And I really wish that you would tell me 'no'. Instead you sit there in my bilfold all red and shiny and pretty, just begging to be used.</div>
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I hate how easy you are. Instead of sliding through the credit card machine while I am checking out, I wish you would give me a shock like a taser so I would have to really, really want something bad enough to go through pain for it.</div>
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I hate the way your statements show up every month in my inbox, all cheery and happy-go-lucky, when the numbers I find inside make me feel anything but cheery or happy.<br />
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I hate the way I find comfort in you in a moment of stress. You act as if you can solve all of my problems with a little retail therapy, when really you just create more. <br />
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You deceive me. <br />
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Lie to me. <br />
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And leave me feeling empty.<br />
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I hate the way you whisper sweet-nothings to me, even though you don't have a voice. You tell me that as long as I have you, I don't need anything or anybody else. Certainly not a Savior. He can't buy me fancy shoes or nice clothes or soft toilet paper the way you can.<br />
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I hate it when I get a notice in the mail that you have increased my limit with you, as if we don't get enough of each other the way it is.<br />
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I hate the way you make me think that I am more secure with you riding around in my wallet. Like you could save me from any old problem or expense that came my way.<br />
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I hate how truly out of control our relationship is. We keep tiptoeing around each other, thinking that things will get better. But they don't.<br />
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I'm done. I don't deserve this, I really do not deserve this.<br />
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Sorry, Red, I really wish it didn't have to end like this.<br />
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But I don't see any way around the inevitable.<br />
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We had a great run, and lots of fun. But now it's time for me to move on. Without you.<br />
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And so, it's over.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that there are really only 2 places that will be sad about this break-up...Pella Christian Grade School, because Target will no longer donate 1% of my purchases at Target to the school, and Target itself because I will no longer spend to my hearts content because of the ever-enticing 5% discount...plus free shipping...but who's counting anyway. I really, really hope that Target can make it without me.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-6728280425121578652014-06-04T14:39:00.001-07:002014-06-04T14:39:36.418-07:00Fly<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a certain amount of ebb and flow that goes along with this parenting thing. Like one day, I am obviously the coolest mom ever, and then the next thing I know I have been down-graded to the worst.</span><br />
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My man and I have held our positions as parents for nearly a decade now. And it simply hasn't gotten any easier over the years. </span><br />
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I will be the first to admit that I do not love the baby stage. There is something about this little pudgy being that is cute, but then there is this needy, clingy, crying thing that I don't see the beauty in. So when my babies were all, well, babies, I was wishing them on to the next stage. </span><br />
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Then came toddlerhood...it's not a great 'hood to hang out in some days. There have been many times that I have felt lead to call in back-up while in this dangerous 'hood. The personality explosion that occurs during the toddler years is just mind-boggling to me. I mean, seriously, there have been many days that my then 2- or 3-year-olds have acted more like teenagers, and during those days I was wishing them on to the next stage.</span><br />
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Oh, then along comes preschool, and grade school, and girls, and boys, and drama, and blah, blah, blah. And all the sudden that wrinkly pudgy being is 9 going on 10, and wrestling for a bit of independence. </span><br />
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We have 2 bird families that have lovingly decided to nest in peak of our front entry-way. I sent my man on a mission to rid our cedar of them, but upon arrival he discovered that there were baby birds in one, and eggs in the other. Well, seriously, who in their right mind could kill a nest of baby birds, fresh out of their eggs. Not me. So the birds and eggs stayed. A few days later we were getting ready to leave and noticed that one of the baby birds had fallen out of the nest, and was now struggling to survive on it's own on the not-so-cozy concrete directly below it's home.</span><br />
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I wish I had taken a picture. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>It would go right here.</u></span></div>
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But I didn't. However, the mental picture I took of that bird has stuck in my mind ever since. As well as the lessons that God is trying to teach me through it.</span><br />
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My son, who is trying to fly-the-coup isn't so different than the bird I saw floundering last week. For some reason, in his mind, he is ready. Ready to spread those wings and do all sorts of things that this mom isn't quite ready for yet. And my job, as his mom, is to know when to let him fly, and when to hold him under my wing. </span><br />
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When Holden was just a baby we were given a book by Dr. Dobson that had this little kite analogy in it, which I have copy and pasted below for your reading enjoyment...{have a kleenex handy}</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Humorist Erma Bombeck described this difficult process in terms that were helpful to me.123 She said that the task of raising kids is rather like trying to fly a kite on a day when the wind doesn't blow. Mom and Dad run down the road pulling the cute little device at the end of a string. It bounces along the ground and shows no inclination of getting off the ground.<br /><br />Eventually, and with much effort, they manage to lift it fifteen feet in the air, but great danger suddenly looms. The kite dives toward electrical lines and twirls near trees. It is a scary moment. Will they ever get it safely on its way? Then, unexpectedly, a gust of wind catches the kite, and it sails upward. Mom and Dad feed out line as rapidly as they can.<br /><br />The kite begins pulling the string, making it difficult to hold on. Inevitably, they reach the end of their line. What should they do now? The kite is demanding more freedom. It wants to go higher. Dad stands on his tiptoes and raises his hand to accommodate the tug. It is now grasped tenuously between his index finger and thumb, held upward toward the sky. Then the moment of release comes. The string slips through his fingers, and the kite soars majestically into God's beautiful sky.<br /><br />Mom and Dad stand gazing at their precious "baby," who is now gleaming in the sun, a mere pinpoint of color on the horizon. They are proud of what they've done--but sad to realize that their job is finished. It was a labor of love. But where did the years go?<br /><br />That is where you are today--standing on tiptoes and stretching toward the sky with the end of the string clutched between your fingers. It's time to let go. And when you do, you'll find that a new relationship will be born. Your parenting job is almost over. In its place will come a friendship that will have its own rewards.<br /><br />Remember: The kite is going to break free one way or the other. It's best that you release it when the time is right!</i>After I got done bawling after reading this, I looked at my man and told him that I will <i>not</i> be releasing <i>any</i> string of <i>any</i> child that comes out of my body. Never. Ever.</span><br />
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Never say never.</span><br />
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Now, I'm pretty sure that my man and I have a few years before we have to completely let go of the string. But this past month, the winds have been blowing our oldest kite hard, and we have had to figure out how to let some string out, without letting go. </span><br />
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I'm pretty sure that the baby bird I mentioned earlier wasn't quite ready to leave the nest and be on it's own. I won't tell you what became of that bird, just focus on the kite here.</span><br />
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Then yesterday as my daughter was reading to me, something blue caught my eye on our deck.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDNhCeSBYNbGAybzP8xJa4RlRN8yAlKFcdAUcLPb_SHCj6_IP0L3FSJZsXO_z_xYaxhwjPPzjYCm6ZSYRuvsvO5qV4LgJitxKJ_gF1fHm9q4GEo9kr8YFqzuY93wOO67yscPuMWlT5QI/s1600/IMG_5745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDNhCeSBYNbGAybzP8xJa4RlRN8yAlKFcdAUcLPb_SHCj6_IP0L3FSJZsXO_z_xYaxhwjPPzjYCm6ZSYRuvsvO5qV4LgJitxKJ_gF1fHm9q4GEo9kr8YFqzuY93wOO67yscPuMWlT5QI/s1600/IMG_5745.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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An egg had fallen out of the nest that the birds built on our back deck. (I would like to note here that they have 5,327 trees 100 yards away, yet they choose to build a nest on our house. How sweet.) I could take this cracked egg analogy so many different directions...but I like to think that it was God's way of reminding me to not let my little "bird" leave before he is really ready.</span><br />
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Don't give up.</span><br />
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Don't give in.</span><br />
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Keep on loving him exactly the way <i>he</i> needs to be loved, so that one day, when he is ready, I will be able to let go of his string and let him fly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note that although sometimes parenting is <strike>impossible</strike> hard, I wouldn't ever trade it for all the chocolate in the world. Most days.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-63040696110429025572014-05-22T12:42:00.000-07:002014-05-22T19:00:00.555-07:00For the First Time in Forever<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First of all, you are welcome for getting that song stuck in your head. If you have a daughter under the age of 10 living at home you have probably already heard it about 39 times today. If you don't have a daughter <strike>annoying you</strike> singing it for you, then click below to hear it. You can thank me later.</span><br />
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Anyway, on Saturday I went shopping for the first time in forever. That event in and of itself really isn't noteworthy, and I'm guessing a few of you really don't care what I did on Saturday. But a few others have asked me if I have been shopping since my fast ended, so I thought I would share a bit about my day.</span><br />
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If you don't really care about my shopping day, you have my permission to quit reading right now. Go ahead and click on the little 'x' up in the corner. You will not hurt my feelings.</span><br />
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And now I would like to thank the other 5 of you that chose to keep reading.</span><br />
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I will do my best to make this exciting, and worthy of your 3 1/2 minutes.</span><br />
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Let me first tell you <i>why</i> I <i>had</i> to go shopping. It's all my man's fault really. You see, he <i>forced</i> me to drive to Williamsburg, Iowa, home of the only noteworthy outlet mall in our state, to cheer him on during his 102 mile bike ride, which he was doing to help raise money for <a href="http://www.bethany.org/pella" target="_blank">Bethany Christian Services.</a></span><br />
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Here is proof that I did cheer him on as he rode past...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfqRyuaBwrWaMPSpAiJI1da0LaqVx6r7vBLeDlrBUaYkZVXnTQmKNts5rwHTYcl7BU8Pk380jxWBW_y1sbxRx5guCPtdXNxcHuo9ahKPmpjgpGMvoEGS4727CVL1_QJLoFalAA1q23U0/s1600/IMG_5583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtfqRyuaBwrWaMPSpAiJI1da0LaqVx6r7vBLeDlrBUaYkZVXnTQmKNts5rwHTYcl7BU8Pk380jxWBW_y1sbxRx5guCPtdXNxcHuo9ahKPmpjgpGMvoEGS4727CVL1_QJLoFalAA1q23U0/s1600/IMG_5583.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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So after I <strike>got that out of the way</strike> was done cheering and encouraging and waving and taking pictures, my attention turned to the mall. I should also note here that I had my oldest daughter, Emerson, with me. Who, as it turns out, likes.to.shop.</span><br />
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That's a problem. But she'll have to figure that out someday because I am having a hard enough time reprogramming my own brain.</span><br />
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Our first stop was at Gap, and I am so super proud to say that I only bought a boring old white cami. I know, right, who would have guessed!?!? That is a store that I typically go a bit overboard in. If I see and I like, I typically buy it. But not on Saturday. Not sure if it was the cool spring we have had or what, but I just wasn't "inspired" by anything I saw. My heart did not leave that store longing for anything. Emerson <i>did </i>find a few things there, but I don't feel like I need to go into detail...a girl needs clothes to wear, but I will give her props for shopping the clearance wall which was an additional 20% off sale prices. Bless her.</span><br />
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On and on our day went...Oshkosh, Under Armour, Claire's, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory(don't judge...I was shopping with an 8 year old, and <u>she</u> needed some sugar to make it through a few more stores), Old Navy, Carter's, Bath & Body Works, perhaps a few others in there, and then J.Crew. </span><br />
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I did really good all day. Until J.Crew.</span><br />
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I could sort of feel myself being tempted, A LOT, to buy all sorts of stuff here. But here is what I walked out with:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7UR5eI5fWK5-EXIE3gmWZj_1IHlETAiFdvdXIDcnFAAthaJLqSKrUXiGkN6SH8KYeODmWRoBE0PfMkmDgN7uNN25BV2_IVCLzx9rj_9q4a7RCbRF2Uv0IgaBAhYpQ0ZQCLZTLQiE84s/s1600/Dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7UR5eI5fWK5-EXIE3gmWZj_1IHlETAiFdvdXIDcnFAAthaJLqSKrUXiGkN6SH8KYeODmWRoBE0PfMkmDgN7uNN25BV2_IVCLzx9rj_9q4a7RCbRF2Uv0IgaBAhYpQ0ZQCLZTLQiE84s/s1600/Dress.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This dress, which I wore on Sunday and completely pitted out in. Cute dress. Not so cute when you are singing in front of church with dark rings under the arm holes. And it's dry clean only, so I am going to have to sweat in it a few more times before I pay to wash it. Whoever invented 'Dry Clean Only' did not sweat. Anyway, I had a necklace and shoes at home to pair with it, and I do love it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This baseball tee, because for some reason I think I play baseball, so I need a tee to go with it. I love it too. I'm wearing it today, and I don't feel guilty at all about it. Not at all. It's like this shirt was made for the spring we are having this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and then hello, this little cardigan that was on sale for $12.99. There are days that I just need to be comfy. And I will wear my cheap cardigan on those days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also bought a hoodie, but it's already been returned. It was, um, overpriced and winterish. Not a great combination. Pre-fast it would have stayed here and lived a good life with me, but now I have to be in love with it and it has to be cheap to live at my house. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that's it. Seriously. Three whole items were added to my wardrobe after an entire afternoon of shopping. Ok, so maybe for some of you getting 3 items is a big deal. But pre-fast, I wouldn't walk out of ANY store I went in with less than three items. For real. Crazy, I know. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So how did it feel, you wonder, to go shopping after not being able to go for 6 months?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hmm, well, I wasn't sure if I should be excited or scared or happy or sad or feeling guilty or giddy...and then I went into that first store, and I was pleasantly surprised with myself. Surprised that I could look at the clothes for what they really are:<u> </u><b>just clothes</b>. They don't define me, they can't save me, they don't satisfy me, they offer no salvation, they can't control me, they rarely fit me just right, they don't make me a better mom or wife, and they don't make me who I am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the first time in forever I can see that my fast was worth it. All 6 l-o-n-g months of it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that the reality is that I simply didn't have any money left to shop for myself on Saturday because I spent it all on the sweet girl I had with me. Just kidding. Sort of.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-50962630511305237702014-05-09T13:42:00.000-07:002014-05-10T12:34:12.696-07:00Someday<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These are the thoughts that go through my mind each day as I am trying to journey here...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to walk across my living room without stepping on a toy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to go to the grocery store without having to get hit in the shins with those "cute" little red carts. Bless the person who designed those things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't spend my day wiping things...noses, bottoms, hands, counters, floors, tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to read my devotions at 6:30am without a little knock on my door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will go for a walk without having to pack strollers, bikes, snacks, books, drinks, toys. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to go to Walmart and get through my short list without having to sprint to the bathroom for the sake of one of my girls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to hear "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" being played on my piano over and over.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to share my lunch.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to plan my day around nap time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to take a shower without an audience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to keep track of reading time and AR points and spelling lists and memory work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't hear the words 'Mom' and 'Why?' 756 times per day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday my schedule won't consist of running people from here to there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will be able to eat a warm meal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will get to watch a movie other than Frozen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to drive a bus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday my man and I will be able to have an uninterrupted conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have 8 loads of laundry to do every few days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday my purse won't be used to haul snacks, drinks, and extra clothes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't have to break up a fight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday they won't ask to go to the park every.single.day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday getting out the door won't include yelling and screaming and running late. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't feel so overwhelmed everyday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday they will be too big to fit on my lap...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will wish that time would just stand still...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I won't lose sleep worrying about their tomorrow...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will wake up...and they won't be here...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday they will grow up and spread their wings...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2n6mPhEfkJUJuhRGk8cVQu57stB8uGcK3fzMvSXNEqkk7mD0p58N1_qpL5vPg2rc2b6_mt6k5f5fu8xc59cxpWDkdvtDCkQ47mCsAogJa4yGxypMrLRbGq1Jv9UIsrd5-FZI90umiB4/s1600/DSC_2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2n6mPhEfkJUJuhRGk8cVQu57stB8uGcK3fzMvSXNEqkk7mD0p58N1_qpL5vPg2rc2b6_mt6k5f5fu8xc59cxpWDkdvtDCkQ47mCsAogJa4yGxypMrLRbGq1Jv9UIsrd5-FZI90umiB4/s1600/DSC_2527.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday he will be a dad...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday he will be able to use the gifts God has given him to work for His glory...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday I will have to let him go...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBGWjbsYRfDgcw2dBFp-IXqZTox0RiC8k2WQIRmnb-l8QPqJUrlJAtlGYnvkIxziMRRfmvEkeCGGF76S4BzH1yKo3xsIKkRhz0GpSmxFIjCuOsbay8pjmcG6evgYG_aH-El_VkYbTbvI/s1600/DSC_2541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBGWjbsYRfDgcw2dBFp-IXqZTox0RiC8k2WQIRmnb-l8QPqJUrlJAtlGYnvkIxziMRRfmvEkeCGGF76S4BzH1yKo3xsIKkRhz0GpSmxFIjCuOsbay8pjmcG6evgYG_aH-El_VkYbTbvI/s1600/DSC_2541.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday she will have a family of her own...<br />
<br />
Someday God will use her Spanish in ways that we cannot imagine...<br />
<br />
Someday she will understand that life isn't always fair, but that God is always good...<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWm34wlPjarUmLhXj-vM68J_BvqXCYQ8k5vwMgQWFEenhnujEJDZrLHT77jSs951JElQd6sWPVlc5JLehapOqeC4vcvV37RbtHqEsiy7FXU0lOGnOWPbkaQDM0xtl1m1Xhh98O4K_n5c/s1600/DSC_2559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWm34wlPjarUmLhXj-vM68J_BvqXCYQ8k5vwMgQWFEenhnujEJDZrLHT77jSs951JElQd6sWPVlc5JLehapOqeC4vcvV37RbtHqEsiy7FXU0lOGnOWPbkaQDM0xtl1m1Xhh98O4K_n5c/s1600/DSC_2559.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a><br /><br /><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Someday she will have the confidence to run and never look back...<br />
<br />
Someday she will giggle at her own blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby...<br />
<br />
Someday she won't ask me to read her a story...<br />
<br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYOCw0wdTyXpaU-Q7rhbOpZi0XoT9uGlOoJiu8ZxERybZbFebSYDg9esiO9F2sDkejNZ5iNWSE9a6oRP3zeipWjZhgWwcES3KCmzWNrOdYJOK-Fkb1lGS_DSu-uiMF6UxNUn7T2Y-M2o/s1600/DSC_2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYOCw0wdTyXpaU-Q7rhbOpZi0XoT9uGlOoJiu8ZxERybZbFebSYDg9esiO9F2sDkejNZ5iNWSE9a6oRP3zeipWjZhgWwcES3KCmzWNrOdYJOK-Fkb1lGS_DSu-uiMF6UxNUn7T2Y-M2o/s1600/DSC_2588.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<br />
<br />
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Someday she will be grown up, but she will always be our baby...<br />
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Someday she will tunnel her energy and do something big...</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday she will give her hugs and kisses to babies of her own...</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
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Someday they won't all live under one roof...</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday we won't be just a family of 6...</div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday God will lead them down a path that might take them away from here...</div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday I will be more than their mom, I will be a friend...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday I will be a phone call away...<br />
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Someday I will look back and wonder where the time went...</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
Someday I will long for the days when they were all little, with little problems...<br />
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Someday my today will become a whole bunch of yesterdays, and I will be left wishing for one.more.day...so for today I am going to celebrate that I am a Mom to 4 littles who have big dreams for someday...</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Please note that apparently my need/desire to blog did not end with my fast on May 1. You may notice a new name and layout, but it's still the same-old me, trying to do Life's Journey Here...</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-58166029357730979792014-04-30T14:38:00.000-07:002014-05-05T07:46:28.173-07:00Change<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Life is all about changes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Good. Bad. And otherwise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As much as we want things to stay the same, especially if we are in a good spot, they keep changing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your family of 5 unexpectedly becomes a party of 6.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A friend is diagnosed with cancer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your children's nanny leaves for college.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A grandparent is moved into a nursing home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your friend moves to another state.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Things always seem to change. And how you perceive those changes depends a lot on which side of the change you are on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can easily and honestly say that I do not like change. I may even go as far as saying that I. hate. change. There are these people out there who thrive on change. I am not one of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I cry at the start of every school year, and I cry at the end of every school year, because they both represent change (and growth). A new teacher. A new summer schedule. New classroom expectations. New. New. New. I just want to stick with the familiar and "old." I offered to pay one of my child's teachers to homeschool them for the rest of their life. The teacher did not take the bait. As if.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But maybe it's not the change itself that is hard, but instead just the anticipation of it all that gets me. Not sure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Going into my fast I knew that it would be challenging and a big change. Although I didn't go in kicking and screaming, I wasn't exactly excited about it. Case in point, the time that I walked out of Target empty handed and quite huffy because of it. As I walked through the parking lot I had a little chat with my Jesus...asking him for something good to come out of what I was doing.<a href="http://lifesjourneyhere.blogspot.com/2013/11/testing-testing-1-2-3.html" target="_blank">(Testing. Testing. 1-2-3)</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I knew 6 months ago that a change needed to happen in me. Through me. For me. But I didn't know what that change would be, until I agreed to this fast. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today is my last official day of my fast. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tomorrow I am free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm just sure Martin Luther King Jr. was thinking of the end my fast when he spoke the words, "Free at last, Free at last, thank God almighty I am(we are) free at last."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe not. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, I will be free as a bird to shop to my heart's content, and there isn't a thing you can say about it. Well, except maybe my man. He can pry say something about it. But I pry won't go shopping. Mostly because it's Tulip Time in our quaint little Dutch town. Oh, ok, fine. I guess maybe, just maybe, refraining from shopping tomorrow has less to do with parades and good food filling my schedule and more to do with the fact that something really has changed in me over the last 6 months. Not the kind of change that makes me do an embarrassing blubbery cry, but the kind of change that I didn't even realize was taking place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what has changed in me, you are wondering. Hmm. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not sure I can answer that questions exactly I guess. Can't quite put my finger on one specific thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I have changed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I know that I don't really want to go back to who I was on <a href="http://lifesjourneyhere.blogspot.com/2013/11/day-1-of-many.html" target="_blank">Day 1 of Many</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am reading this book(because, you know, that is all I really do all day besides eat bon-bons and watch soap operas) entitled Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist. It's a great book, one in which Shauna shares her thoughts on change, grace and learning the hard way. Following is a paragraph that hit home, especially at the end of my fast...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I now know that I can make it through more than I thought, with less than I thought. I know better than to believe that the changes are over, and I know better than to believe the next ones will be easier, but I've learned the hard way that change is one of God's greatest gifts and one of his most useful tools. I've learned the hard way that change can push us, pull us, rebuke and remake us. It can show us who we've become, in the worst ways, and also in the best ways. I've learned that it's not something to run away from, as though we could, and I've learned that in many cases, change is not a function of life's cruelty but instead a function of God's graciousness.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I keep praying that God will reveal to me what my next step is...but He must be on vacay with the rest of this town in anticipation of Tulip Time this weekend, because He has not revealed it to me yet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Am I going to keep blogging? Not sure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Am I going to keep fasting? Don't know.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Am I open to whatever, <i>whatever </i>God calls me to, even if it's a big change? Think so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that there are no words for me to tell you how much I have appreciated all of you walking with me the past 6 months. I have laughed at myself and my posts a lot, I have cried a few times while typing, and I have fought off the devil with the help of my God...and I hope that you have been blessed through all of it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">I would love to receive any feedback regarding my blog or stories of how God has changed you either on Facebook, in the comment space below, or via e-mail: zldevries@hotmail.com. No hate mail please. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-22560878788692819822014-04-28T19:25:00.001-07:002014-04-29T05:26:40.245-07:00Never<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What, never?</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>No, never.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>What, never?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>Well, hardly ever!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>-</i>William Schwenck Gilbert, H.M.S. Pinafore</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This little quote does a great job of conveying what I have said and felt many, many times in my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Following is my <u>Top 5 list of things I said I would never, no, never do</u>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1. Be a model.</b> This one is kind of a weird one. It goes back to those junior high days when you are all dreaming about what you want to do or be someday, and I'm just sure I would say this one so that I could perhaps gain a little attention. Then when my friends would ask why I would <i>never</i> be a model I could point at my face and create a whole lot of awkwardness...because, you know, j-high isn't awkward enough on it's own. Then a couple of years ago I was doing some volunteer work for Many Hands for Haiti, and they asked me to model some of their jewelry for their <a href="http://solidgroundforhaiti.com/" target="_blank">Solid Ground</a> website. Who would have guessed. I didn't think they were still using my picture, but behold, there it is on the 'necklace' tab. Be sure to check it out because they have cute jewelry, along with coffee, home d<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.15;">écor, </span>apparel, and hot sauce.</span><br />
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<a href="http://solidgroundforhaiti.com/products/jewelry/necklaces.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTdlafkN3u23WLlm0_yTYA92HTP1kjpi1IQvSFtQ3bmnqjLTbdHYUogkWX5Dff5DSRM3DnbJyiU6v13nVmOEiQAfboldhac1kTEkX0pAiD0cfB5YzZ5k9b1AkMOkALXFYQRvYtE4yqBU/s1600/MH4H-Lindsay.jpg" height="283" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2. Be a stay-at-home mom.</b> Sorry kids, hate to break it to you, but prior to having children I had high hopes of doing something. I'm not sure what, but something. Changing diapers and having baby conversations all day was <i>never</i> on my radar. Then this little thing started growing inside me, kicking me in all the wrong spots, giving me all sorts of heartburn, and contorting my body into a shape I didn't know was possible, and all the sudden I knew that there wasn't anywhere else I would want to be besides home with my baby. Now don't get me wrong, there are days now that I dream of a job outside this house, but then I remember that I can't wear sweats, a ponytail, and flip-flops to that certain job, and the dream quickly becomes a nightmare, and I am back to thinking that there isn't anywhere else in the world that I would want to be. And then my kids start fighting and I start dreaming again...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>3. Run a 5k. </b>Again, this one is a bit strange, but I have never really enjoyed running, or if we're being accurate, jogging. In high school I played basketball, or as my brother would say, "I was on the team," and I was always that last one crossing the line during sprints. I much preferred the laid-back tempo of golf. Walking and swinging a club, I can do. Running for fun, no way, <i>never</i>. Until I married this crazy man who loves to be active and outdoors and he decided to sign me up for 5k after 5k. Now I can jog a 5k, perhaps even without dying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>4. Have 4 kids</b>. And again, sorry children, particularly #4. But by the time you are old enough to read this I pry won't be "cool" anymore, so you won't even know these posts exist. My man and I always talked about having 2, <i>maybe 3</i> kids. <i>Never</i> 4. We knew our limits, and they ended at man-to-man parental defense Well, let me tell you something, God has a sense of humor, and if you've ever met our #4 you know this to be true. Here we are over 3 years into being parents of 4 kids, and not only are we surviving, but I feel like maybe at least 5 minutes of everyday(after the kids go to bed) we are even thriving at this parenting thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>5. Last 6 months without shopping for clothes.</b> When I started my fast just under 6 months ago I was pretty sure I would fail, yet I was determined. Never had I gone more than, let's just say a month, for the sake of my man reading this, without buying clothes for either myself or my children. Now that I am just a few days away from being done with my fast I know that it is possible to wear the same cardigan layered over different items and still be cute...although my man would disagree with me that any of my cardigans are cute. I know that we are all sick of this cold, dreary spring, but let me tell you something...it has been an answer to my prayers! I have not had the need to shop for anything really for anybody because we all have cold weather clothes that fits. I have picked up a t-shirt here and there for the kids, anticipating that at some point it in the next few <strike>weeks</strike> months it will be nice enough for them to need them, but I have held strong in the ladies-department and left it all hanging on the rack. I would like to think that my fast has something to do with the crazy weather pattern. You know, God's way of making this fast a bit easier, but then I would have the whole mid-west mad at me, so I'm just going to blame it on global warming...or lack there-of. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What is my point here, you are wondering, because you know, every good post has to have a point. My point is that when I have said "NEVER", God has said, "Uh-huh, that's what you think. Watch this." It's like when you pray for patience, and then all the sudden you have these crazy patience-buidling things happen to you, like waiting in a check-out line at Christmas time, or a husband who is late, or a 3 year old. God sees the never and turns it into an always.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that I have many, many more things that are going around in my head that I will never do, like sky diving, but believe me, I will not mention them to anybody until I am absolutely, positively sure I want God to make them into a reality.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-3443473556678650942014-04-22T13:15:00.000-07:002014-04-22T19:34:12.958-07:0030 years<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The older I get, the more I realize how God has called us all to walk a different path in this life. Some carry the burden of being overweight, while others are battling cancer, others struggle internally with self esteem issues, some are dealing with broken marriages, and still others are addicted to drugs. We each have a cross to bear. God has created us all for different reasons, with different stories to share. A little over a month ago I shared my <a href="http://lifesjourneyhere.blogspot.com/2014/03/miracles.html" target="_blank">daughter's story</a>, and today it's my turn to share my story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here we go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">30 years ago today my mom, brother, and I set out for the Easter Sunday service at our country church. My dad wasn't feeling well and decided to stay home. The ground was covered with snow, the remains of a bad storm, as we left our little house in town, to set out for church.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Shortly after we were out of town my mom lost control of our vehicle on the ice covered road and we hit an on-coming pickup head on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As was the custom that many years ago, we were all sitting in the front seats and none of us were in seat belts, and although my mom tried her best to act as a human seat belt, I slipped under her arm and my face hit the dash of our car, shattering my nose and left eye socket and pushing my left eye back into my head about an inch. My brother was pinned in the car, and my mom's head hit the windshield knocking out a number of teeth and she also broke her arm and cut her leg.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But God was on our side. His angels were busy that day orchestrating the events that happened from that point on. A doctor drove up on our accident while on his way to Easter lunch and stopped to help; the fire department and ambulance crew responded immediately, including my dad who was a member of the fire department; my grandparents were all pulled out of their Easter services and were able to make it to us to be with us; prayers were being sent up immediately on our behalf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were all taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital, then after further examination it was evident that I needed to go on, so we were all transferred to Mercy Hospital in Mason City, and then I was quickly transferred to Saint Mary's Hospital in Rochester, Minnesota.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At the ripe age of 4, I had a plastic surgeon. Tummy tucks and a new chest he never provided, but he did perform over 20 facial reconstructive surgeries on me over the next 17 years, including the initial surgery that was performed to replace my nose and eye brow and repair my left eye.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are so many more details to this story, but I will end it there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So often growing up I struggled with "why me?" And as I have become an adult I have started asking myself a different question "why not me?" God has used that horrible car accident to mold me and shape me into who I am today. My stomach still flips anytime I see stitches or hear of somebody getting staples; my kids ride in the backseat of my truck with their seat belts on out of fear that the same would happen to them; but I look at my life and know that I am alive only for His glory...crooked nose and scars that will never quite fade and all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In Max Lucado's book <u>It's Not About Me</u> he repeats over and over how this life that I am living here is not about me, it's not for my glory or my fame, but for God's alone. Here are a few of my favorite reminders:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-God's priority is his glory. He occupies center stage; I carry props. He's the message; I'm but a word.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-Reduce the human job description down to one phrase, and this is it: Reflect God's glory.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-It's not about us, and it angers him when we think it is.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-God does not exist to make a big deal out of us. We exist to make a big deal out of him. It's not about you. It's not about me. It's all about him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So on a day like this, the 30th "anniversary" of our car accident, it's so easy for me to get wrapped up in the what-if's, the pain of the past 30 years, the poor me mentality. But then I am reminded that I am just here to reflect God's glory, and how can I do that when I beg for the spotlight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will never know what my mom and dad, brother, and many others who walked with me through that day went through. But I am confident that God wrote this story just for me, and I am sure of this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The Lord Himself goes before me(you) and He will be with me;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> He will never leave me nor forsake me.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-Deuteronomy 31:8</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After our car accident my Grandma made a book for me, so that even though I was too young to remember what God had done for us, I would be able to look back and see that He was and is faithful. She included this poem in my book by an unknown author, and I think it still speaks to me today:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><u>He Cared Enough to Send the Very Best</u></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> My Father's way may twist and turn, my heart may throb and ache,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But in my soul I'm glad I know, He maketh no mistake.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My cherished plans may go astray,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My hopes may fade away;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But still I'll trust my Lord to lead</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>for he doth know the way.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>There's so much now I cannot see, my eyesight's far too dim;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But come what may, I'll simply trust, and leave it all to him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>For by and by the mist will lift, and plain</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>it all he'll make,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Through all the way, tho' dark to me,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>He made not one mistake!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that I did not share my story with you to seek out your pity, but rather to challenge you to reflect on God's faithfulness in your own life...and perhaps to bump you off of center stage to make room for Him.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-47686290636752999392014-04-16T19:55:00.000-07:002014-04-16T20:00:57.659-07:00Love<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember the first time I fell in love. I thought I had been in love once before, but then this other came along and showed me what true love really looked like. True love sacrifices oneself for the sake of the other...true love gives when the tank is completely empty...true love sees beauty when the rest of the world sees scars...true love offers forgiveness when the devil has tempted beyond self control.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The second time I fell in love was when my first child was born. The instant that he breathed his first breath, I knew that I would die for that child if I had to. And all of the sudden all those things I had read when I was younger about our Heavenly Father and His great love for us made perfect sense. I understood the idea of laying down ones life for another. I would do that for any of my children in a heartbeat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That love. That great love that the Father has for us comes to head during this Holy Week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Max Lucado put it so well in his book <u>It's Not About Me</u>, when he stated the following...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Want to see the size of my love?" he[God] invites. "Ascend the winding path outside of Jerusalem. Follow the dots of bloody dirt until you crest the hill. Before looking up, pause and hear me whisper, '</i>This is how much I love you.<i>'"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Whip-ripped muscles drape his back. Blood rivulets over his face. His eyes and lips are swollen shut. Pain rages at wildfire intensity. As he sinks to relieve the agony of his legs, his airway closes. At the edge of suffocation, he shoves pierced muscles against the spike and inches up the cross. He does this for hours. Painfully up and down until his strength and our doubts are gone.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Does God love you? Behold the cross, and behold your answer.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And as I'm reading this I can hear Him whisper to me, "This is how much I love you...I rescued you from near fatality at age 4...I blessed you with a man who loves you for exactly who you are...I sent my angel armies to protect your youngest from death...I healed your son's ears when you boldly called on my name...I have walked beside you everyday of your fast...I sent my only son to die for <i>you</i>..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Sunday we sang the song, "How Deep the Father's Love For Us," and if I hadn't been leading worship, I would have been standing in my pew weeping like a child. This song is just that good...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...and what my Jesus did for me is even better...</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">What shall we say about such wonderful things as these? If God is for us, who can ever be against us? </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">Since he did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for us all, won’t he also give us everything else? </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself.</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;"><b> </b></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">(As the Scriptures say, “For your sake we are killed every day; we are being slaughtered like sheep.”</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;"><b>) </b></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;"><b> </b></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;"><i>-</i>Romans 8:31-39, NLT</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 21px; text-indent: 25px;">Please note that it is my prayer that you all experience the love of God this Easter as we lay our burdens down and rejoice a King who saves.</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-76625308874179004852014-04-11T12:32:00.000-07:002014-04-11T14:58:28.327-07:00Bunny<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lent is upon us, and the Easter bunny is knocking at my door. I do love this time of year, when we can bid winter a long over-due farewell and watch the flowers and grasses come to life right before our eyes. Then you throw in the redemptive Easter story and you have a prescription to rid away any and all winter blues.</span><br />
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When I was growing up I very clearly remember how important it was to dress the part on Easter. My grandma made most of my new Easter dresses, but at some point I grew out of that, and my mom would take me shopping to find just the right one. It had to have white on it, so it would match my bonnet, gloves, white patented leather shoes, and white ruffle socks. If you are 30 or older, you know just what I'm talking about.</span><br />
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One year Super Valu(again, you have to be 3o or older to know what/where that was) brought in a big old bunny and you could pay $7.99(or some ridiculous amount of money) to have your picture taken with it...and after viewing it below you will wonder why my mom not only paid money for it, but also why she ordered any prints of it to begin with. Be still my bad boy haircut and my brother's mullet...my mom drug us in there well past the age that it was socially acceptable, or even cute for that matter, and had our picture taken with the <strike>freaky</strike> bunny. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For the love. That is pure nastiness going on. I have been scared to death of the easter bunny ever since. No lie.</span></div>
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After having kids I thought dressing the part for Easter was just what we did. It was expected that on Easter my children, and maybe me if I was lucky enough to stop shopping for them long enough to find a dress that would fit my post-pregnancy body, would show up at church donning our bright springy new duds. Almost as if we couldn't celebrate Easter without new, and might I add matching, clothes. One year I even went so far as to match all 6 of us, and a bed of tulips.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How presh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Too bad I have no idea what the preacher talked about that day. But hey, we all looked cute together, and isn't that was really matters on Easter morning?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not sure if it's my fast that is getting to me this year or what, but I am so over the whole "go buy new matching outfits for everyone in my family including, but not limited to, sweaters, accessories, shoes, shorts, hair bows, and shirts." I cannot even do it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cannot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Will not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will not succumb to the pressure this world is putting on me to appear as if I have it all together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, does that make me any better than the family I am sharing a bench with on Easter morning that is decked out from head to toe? Absolutely not. I stated long ago right here on my blog that this whole thing is about me, not you. About changing me, not about making you feel guilty. About taking a hard look at my heart, not about judging you and yours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This year, well, I'm not even really sure what any of my peeps will be wearing on Easter morning. And you know what? That's ok. It's ok. It's ok for us to show up at church on Easter morning, and any other Sunday morning for that matter, a little mismatched and disheveled. Because if I am showing up simply to put on a show; to make it appear that we have it all together; to tell my brothers and sisters in Christ how great and grand and perfect my life is, then I have missed the whole point of the redemption story. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I am standing before Jesus someday I am pretty sure He will ask how I loved His sheep, and if all I can say is that I dressed my flock cute, I don't think that will cut it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have taken Christ's death and watered it down into being about me and how great I am, rather than it being about Him and what a great thing He has done for me and my not-so-perfect heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If I'm being honest, there are a few, ok most, Sunday mornings that we are running out the door yelling, perhaps even screaming, at the kids to quick get their shoes on, grab the church bag, put on a jacket, and for the love, GET IN THE TRUCK NOW! WE HAVE TO GO PRAISE JESUS! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thankfully we have a 10 minute drive to church to get our heart rate back down to a normal pace, reapply powder to cover the beads of sweat, and put on another layer of deodorant to cover up the "we are late for church" perspiration before we pull into the parking lot, smear on our happy "we love Jesus" faces, and dance into church. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whoever said that Sunday was a day of rest did.not.have.kids. End of story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moving on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This year, when we stumble through our church doors on Easter, and we file into our pew, I will look at my sweet little family of 6 who will be wearing whatever they can find in their closet that morning with whatever hand-me-down shoes they can find, and I will be reminded that Jesus doesn't command me to have it all together. He does love me for my ability to match everyone on Sunday morning. And He certainly doesn't care if Boo is wearing the same dress for Easter that her sister wore 3 years ago. He wants my heart. He wants me. And He wants my love. And praise the Lord that I can give that to Him even when I am wearing "old" clothes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that if that bunny picture I shared ever shows up anywhere besides my blog, there will be some serious consequences...you all have ugly pictures to share too, and I know just who to call to get them. Consider yourself warned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5674416182736240246.post-32577369753465980702014-03-29T19:34:00.001-07:002014-03-29T20:23:23.620-07:00March Madness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">March is such a great month. My man celebrates his birthday this month. Two of my girls also celebrate their birthdays this month. There is basketball on TV almost every night, and they are all good games. It is the month that goes in like a lion and comes out like a lamb. I mean, how sweet is that...it is also the month where true madness took over our house this year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I won't go into specifics. Hopefully you won't die from the suspense of the unknown. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, it seems like just yesterday I changed my calendar from February to March. I blinked twice, and now here we are at the end of March already. Whew. That month went super fast. So now in a couple days when I flip my calendar again, I will only have 1 month left in my fast...just 2 blinks, and I will be done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Crazy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And what's even crazier is the fact that I just might make it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have had quite a few people ask me this past month what my next step is going to be. What I am going to do after this. If I am going to go on a big shopping spree to celebrate. What my first non-fast purchase will be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I just stand there looking all dumb because I don't really have a plan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't get me wrong, I love a good plan. But I simply don't have one for after this. And part of that stems from the fact that I wasn't really planning on doing this to begin with. Not until God spoke to me very clearly through my man. But I feel like I should have a plan. Almost like there is something amazing that I should be telling people that I am going to do, like discover the key to world peace or something. My parents could only wish I was that smart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I've sort of been struggling with this whole idea of "what's next" for a few weeks. And this morning God showed up and spoke to me through my devotions...again. Sarah Young wrote in <u>Jesus Calling</u>, <i>Stop trying to work things out before their times have come. Accept the limitations of living one day at a time.</i> The Bible verse that accompanied that little nugget came to me courtesy of Ecclesiastes 3:1: <i>There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.</i> To which my footnote spoke these words: <i>Timing is important...the secret to peace with God is to discover, accept, and appreciate God's perfect timing. The danger is to doubt or resent God's timing. <b>This can lead to despair, rebellion, <u>or moving ahead without his advice."</u></b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wanted to make sure you caught that last little bit, which is why I found it important to bold, italicize, and underline it. You are welcome.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Earlier this week I sat by at a table surrounded by other ladies, and we dissected 1 Samuel 23. God opened my eyes to something very specific in that chapter. There are two different instances in this chapter where David was under attack and had the ability to implement his own plan, but both times he inquired of the Lord, asking what His will was for him, and God provided David with clarity and insight on the battles that lay ahead. In one instance, Saul was in hot pursuit of David, longing to kill him. Yet David took the time to ask God what He would have him do. God spoke clearly to David and revealed to him what his next step should be. My footnote from this chapter goes on to say that <i>"David sought the Lord's guidance before he took action. He listened to God's directions and then proceeded accordingly. Rather than trying to find God's will after the fact or having to ask God to undo the results of our hasty decisions, we should take time to discern God's will beforehand. We can hear him speak though the counse of others, his Word, and the leading of his Spririt in our hearts, as well as through circumstances.</i>"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oftentimes while I am reading 1 Samuel I think it would be so handy to have an Urim and Thummim today, which were stones used in Old Testament times as sacred lots to discern God's will. Lot casting, if you will. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But instead we have this great thing, called the Holy Spirit that lives with us, and leads us, if we let it. I know that before I take my next step; before I declare what my next "amazing" thing will be; before I blog about what God is calling me to, I am going to inquire of Him, and listen for His still small voice to lead me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Please note that I love it when people ask me what is next, because it means that you care and that you are maybe reading my blog. Thank you for all of your support...and for caring.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09430170362444681106noreply@blogger.com0