tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67852700876444231112024-03-13T00:00:08.270-07:00A Beautiful MessFrom my mess to yours...finding the beauty in it all and giving thanks...Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-70280308635211754002013-04-03T07:58:00.000-07:002013-04-03T07:58:06.831-07:00She Sings AlongHappy Easter!<br />
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My best friend told me her pastor talked about how we give up and sacrifice for 40 days before Easter with the practice of Lent and then we spend one day celebrating. What if we celebrated a little bit longer...like everyday?!<br />
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I want to invite you, friend, to a new place where I will continue to write about my journey and the ways Jesus shows himself in the everyday messiness of our lives.<br />
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In the beginning of the year the verse Psalm 104:33 was illuminated for me. It says this:<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"I will sing to the Lord all of my days, I will sing praise to the Lord while I have my being."</b></span></i><br />
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For me, it painted a picture of a living musical. I felt God begin to reveal to me that the reason he gave me a love for music, theater, even musical theater, is because of the power it has to tell a story. Over the last four months I have been seeking and praying for what God has called me to next.<br />
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This is what I believe He has shown me:<br />
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Take care of those babies. Love them. Raise them up. Teach them. Give them loving discipline. Pray for them. <b>Sing to them.</b><br />
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Love your husband. Find ways to "wash his feet." Pray for him without ceasing. <b> Sing with Him.</b><br />
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Surrender it all to The Lord. Every last thing, surrender it. Trust. Pray. Soak in His Word. And, choose to <b>sing along.</b> Choose to sing in the heights and choose to sing in the depths. Choose to sing when the tears are choking the words and it is all I can do to only hum. Choose to sing when my heart is bursting forth with the glad and the thank you's.<br />
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So, my friend, will you join me in this next chapter as,<br />
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<a href="http://shesingsalong.com/" target="_blank">She Sings Along.</a> (Click the link and see the new thing!)<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-30310289108826916102013-03-21T15:44:00.000-07:002013-03-21T15:44:09.992-07:00Requiem for a DreamThe Little Man and I went for a walk last night. The Bug needed a Daddy Date so she and The Fly went for ice cream. I needed fresh air. So we went for a walk.<br /><br />I ran into Rosalyn. She is a neighbor a few blocks up. Her daughter was in a class I taught. We chatted. She called me, “passionate.” She said I seemed to be, “passionate,” about what I was doing.<br /><br />I was passionate. A long time ago. But it’s taken a long time to let myself feel passionate again in certain areas. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 21 year old self playing a 12 year old Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden.</td></tr>
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I started singing show tunes again. <br /><br />For a long time I had a hard time listening to them, let alone, singing along. They reminded me of a dream I once had, a dream that seemed to dissipate or evaporate as the years went by.<br /><br />I told you a few posts ago that I wanted to be a country singer when I grew up. Well, that was the first of my performance and fame based careers I had my sights set upon. I was going to be famous and in my Homecoming Court article I so eloquently told the interviewer that I wanted to, “bring a touch of humanity to Hollywood.” I had no idea what I was talking about. I was always a fan of alliteration so it had a nice ring to it. Humanity to Hollywood...I’m pretty sure Hollywood is already made up of enough Humanity, human nature...perhaps, I should have said, bring a touch of humility to Hollywood. Now that would have been something to pursue.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My High School Comedy Sportz Team. I am middle row, dark brown hair, making kissy face.</td></tr>
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<br />I had big dreams.<br /><br />I doodled about them everyday in class. I was an excellent student. (Enter Sarcasm Here.)<br /><br />My senior quote was, <br /><br />High diddlee-dee <br />An actor’s life for me<br />And as they say in Hollywood,<br />‘I’ll see you in the movies!’<br /><br />Touching. I know. Inspiring? Certainly. Ambitious? You could say that. A bit self-centered? Well, I was 17.<br /><br />So I went to pursue my dream. And, before I could even get started it felt like the door was slammed shut, dead-bolted and cemented in.<br /><br />However, another door flew wide open. It was one He had been knocking on for a while. My heart opened. I let it be captured. And everything changed.<br /><br />But it came with a cost. I could have continued on my own course using anything I had control over to get me what I wanted. He would have still loved me the same. But, after feeling what I felt, after being rescued from so much I could do nothing but lay my motives down, lay my dreams down, lay myself down and say...I want what You have for me, Lord.<br /><br />So one day at a time took a step farther away from Hollywood Hopes and Stages and Songs and one step closer to young people, kids and students. I began teaching rather than singing. I began preparing experiences rather than performing musical numbers.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teachin' and Preachin'</td></tr>
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<br />I was angry deep down. It hurt so bad. I didn’t understand. Every time I would let those feelings surface for a moment the tears would flood and I would push it all back down. “What I am doing now is so much more fulfilling,” I would say to my brain and then to my heart. “This is where God has me in this season,” a sure way to turn the heat down so the contents of my heart would not boil over.<br /><br />Then babies came. You can’t pursue dreams when you have babies, right? They are dreams come true in of themselves. It would be so selfish of me to want what I used to want...I told myself.<br /><br />Time goes on and priorities change. New ones take center stage. Those who can’t do, teach, they say. So I found myself singing and dancing with 6 year olds, and 8 year olds and 12 year olds...teaching them so they can go and do and entertain.<br /><br />I love it. I love picking out the songs. I love choreographing the numbers. Dance was my number 3 (Actor/Singer/Dancer) but I have managed to retain my box steps, pivots and jazz hands...the foundations for any good Broadway number.<br /><br />I find joy in all of it. I find joy in being with little people, who, honestly aren’t that much littler than my 5’ frame. I love on them. I love teaching them. I love seeing them get it. I love their costumes and smiles on recital night. I fall in love with each of them as they sing and dance their little hearts out...so full of hope and ambition. I love it.<br /><br />But every time I am with them I feel like a little more of me is dying inside. I hate to say that. I hate to admit that it hurts. Not because I don’t want to share that I hurt but because I don’t want anyone to think that I am disappointed. I have a beautiful life. I am so very grateful for it. It is vibrant and I thrive most days...but there is a place, deep down, that doesn’t understand.<br /><br />Why God, did you give me the love for a stage? Why God, did you give me a Broadway voice? Why God, did you let me sing and dance and act only to strip me of it all just as I was getting me feet wet? Why, God did I dream big dreams just to see them slowly fade away?<br /><br />I never talk about this. But for some reason it is all welling up. And as I type I can’t stop the waters from rising and pouring out. <br /><br />These verses I have been chewing on take center stage in my mind as the emotions take center stage in my chest: <br /><br /><b>John 12:23-25<br />Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.</b><br />He also says, <b>“whoever finds His life will lose it and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:39)</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more from Secret Garden. This is with dear, talented friends. I miss them.</td></tr>
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<br /><br />I feel like it all had to die. The dreams, the goals, the aspirations...they all had to die. I had to let go. I wanted them all for all the wrong reasons. Had I not “lost,” them <i>I might die</i> searching for my worth in them.<br /><br />Sometimes something has to die...we have to let go so we can move forward to what God is calling us to. I think this is what happened to me. And, for the first time, I am letting myself grieve the loss. And, I think that is a good thing.<br /><br />It’s time for a <b>Requiem</b>, a funeral song. It’s time to just let the tears fall. It’s time to surrender the questions and the disappointment. It’s okay. My God can handle it.<br /><br />I do this. I “ugly cry” to my God. I let the feelings surface. I experience the disappointment. I sit in it. It is raw. I thank God the kids are napping and I sob some more. <br /><br />Deep breath. I remember. He is for me. He created me. He gave me my gifts, my talents. I have purpose. He wants to use those things for His good...and I want that too.<br /><br />I remember Easter is coming. We celebrate the fact that Jesus died for us. He had to. <i>“Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” </i> He died for me so I may have a new life...one where a crop can be produced if I choose to follow Him.<br /><br /><b>Matthew 16:24<br />Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be <span style="font-size: large;">my disciple</span> must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."</b><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">The cross.</span><br /><br />
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Jesus died and was raised so that when I lose my earthly life I too am raised with Him. Victory over our sin. Victory over death. Grace so undeserved. Love so generously poured out.<br /><br />The least I can do is offer him all of me. Every last toe-tapping, jazz-handing, show tune signing bit. <br /><br />So today I mourn and offer up my disappointment. But then I remember what someone once told me, “A disappointment means it just wasn’t your appointment.”<br /><br />As the grief subsides the joy sinks in. I remember that He is not done with me yet and I look forward as<b> <span style="font-size: large;">I let go.</span></b><br /><br />I will keep singing. Loudly and brightly, belting out so the world can hear me. I have good reason to sing.<br />
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-71996095716423927842013-03-11T14:59:00.000-07:002013-03-11T15:07:40.386-07:00Seeds<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to prepare the ground for something new.</td></tr>
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I have this empty patch of dirt in my front yard. Last year I planted some flowers there. They were the kind that eventually die as the seasons change. In Southern California that takes a while but, alas, they are gone, and the soil is ready for something new.<br />
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I feel like that is happening inside of me.<br />
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I am ready for something new. The kiddos turn four and two as soon as strawberries are ready to be picked. I remember craving fresh strawberries while waiting to birth them and bring them into this world. I sent the fly to the local strawberry farm over and over again. They were as sweet as candy. I won’t ever forget.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXpR4ZgtPJC94_TJk8T7p5fbtd3Be3K_DLXLu7AoSLb4IirOq7hIeBW-jAnqPwGyDCVWMaqY1lQ4qOgWdCpDdQxVBzbnoOkU7ecxKMwSu4zS_9pYbC0SmnSdRuOjLCq5WXCCLYJ24W_xW/s1600/DSC08803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXpR4ZgtPJC94_TJk8T7p5fbtd3Be3K_DLXLu7AoSLb4IirOq7hIeBW-jAnqPwGyDCVWMaqY1lQ4qOgWdCpDdQxVBzbnoOkU7ecxKMwSu4zS_9pYbC0SmnSdRuOjLCq5WXCCLYJ24W_xW/s640/DSC08803.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little Strawberry Shortcake at her 3rd Birthday Party</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Man at his 1st Birthday...look at all that hair...He doesn't look like this anymore. Tear.</td></tr>
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And, as it was with my real-life babies, I feel like this strawberry season is bringing...perhaps, birthing...a new season for me. New adventures with my family and new opportunities to tell them and the world about my greatest love...Jesus.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikelob2sOeBUzx631gL2fgqsVPeKuJ6meVJQvSAedmaM3clobjORQB-YY4ZPSPyVIfNyqgOCCIieYngezCCmdWP2sJdQBcA2tuStOMcU2ZzT6MCt5JzJEDfI2qG03aQeBg5MIa-CDkVRgu/s1600/IMG_7591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikelob2sOeBUzx631gL2fgqsVPeKuJ6meVJQvSAedmaM3clobjORQB-YY4ZPSPyVIfNyqgOCCIieYngezCCmdWP2sJdQBcA2tuStOMcU2ZzT6MCt5JzJEDfI2qG03aQeBg5MIa-CDkVRgu/s640/IMG_7591.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for The Bug. (Picture take by April at<a href="http://www.aprilsmithphotography.com/" target="_blank"> April Smith Photography</a>)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwylih_O_bMGRUcgnq2jpe_VjrW9Xa-Mn41xROogaa4n5a5VYSGD3o5dYUa0dDMu4mZjDIH8n1X-0yLOn5U-4ojh_rgqE8FGb5S9xR5K6eQxyt508q6_qL-JUDbKSG_Iy2d-Go9LwFPos/s1600/IMG_1598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwylih_O_bMGRUcgnq2jpe_VjrW9Xa-Mn41xROogaa4n5a5VYSGD3o5dYUa0dDMu4mZjDIH8n1X-0yLOn5U-4ojh_rgqE8FGb5S9xR5K6eQxyt508q6_qL-JUDbKSG_Iy2d-Go9LwFPos/s640/IMG_1598.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the Little Man. (Picture taken by April at <a href="http://www.aprilsmithphotography.com/" target="_blank">April Smith Photography</a>)</td></tr>
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I’m certain I would not be able to if I were still a captive of fear. I feel like it was a slow deliverance of so many things and so many years. But, for the past few weeks I feel like I have been thinking new thoughts about the things that once held such a tight grip. I feel free.<br />
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It didn’t come easy. Most great liberations take much effort, sacrifice...travail...to bring forth a change. It’s true when they say, people don’t change. What they forget to say after that, however, is that people can be transformed.<br />
<br />
And, there is only One who can transform a heart. There is only One who can remove a root of fear, bitterness, rejection and in its place plant seeds of trust, hope, and restoration.<br />
<br />
God is in the business of planting seeds. When a seed is placed in the ground it has an opportunity to become rooted and spring up. It transforms from a hard shell to a vibrant life.<br />
<br />
But, for a seed to grow it has to fall on good soil. <br />
<br />
Jesus tells a parable about seeds. They fall on a path; the birds snatch them up. They fall on rocky soil; they take root but not deep enough. They are scorched by the sun. They fall among thorns; they are choked out. They fall on good soil; they take root...deep...and produce a crop.<br />
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Unlike most parables, He explains this one. <br />
<br />
The birds are the evil one who snatches away the message sown in their hearts from those who hear it and don’t understand it.<br />
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The rocky soil is one who hears and receives with great joy but the root does not go down deep and when trouble, temptation or persecution come they quickly forget.<br />
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The seed falling among the thorns is the one who hears it but worries, “deceitfulness of wealth,” pursuit of the pleasures of this life, choke it out. It is unfruitful.<br />
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The good soil produces a crop. It is the one who hears and understands. A greater crop is produced...even more than what was sown.<br />
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I chewed on this parable all day. I thought about people. I thought about my family. I thought about my children. I thought about myself.<br />
<br />
I want us all to be that good soil. I want to see fruitfulness, joy, abundance and great things to come out of the lives of those I care so much about. <br />
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But I can’t change people. Only God can transform a heart. <br />
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Only God can take a captive of fear and transform her heart and mind to walk in courage.<br />
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So I prayed. I wrestled with God all day. Can the soil change? <br />
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Then God did what only He can do.<br />
<br />
We went to Saturday night church service...after a long day of discipline with the Bug...we almost didn’t go. <br />
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I sat in my seat and asked God to help me hear a word for my own heart...I am so very good at listening for everyone but myself...I’m sure I’m the only one who struggles with that. Smile.<br />
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Sitting in my chair, hoping for words to sink from my ears, to my mind, to my heart, He reminded me.<br />
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<b>God reminded me that He will never stop pursuing us. He is madly in love with each of us and “desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” (1 Timothy 2:4)</b><br />
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It didn’t stop there.<br />
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<b>“Therefore He is also able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through Him [Jesus], since He [Jesus] always lives to make intercession for them.” (Hebrews 7:25)</b><br />
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Intercession. So much of my heart aches for people to know the gift it is to be interceded for and to intercede for others.<br />
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<b>“I urge then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession, and thanksgiving be made for all people...” (2 Timothy 2:1)</b><br />
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Interceding is simply acting on another’s behalf. To intervene. Four friends intercede by their actions when they lower their paralyzed friend through the roof so Jesus can heal Him.<br />
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I have been lowered in front of Jesus by others. I think that is why I get so high-pitched, squeaky and teary-eyed when the topic comes around.<br />
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As I battled the grip fear had on me many people came alongside me on that journey. People prayed for me, people helped me, people were courageous for me. And, finally people asked God to break the chain that bound me, and He did.<br />
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Can I say something to you today, friend?<br />
<br />
I don’t just write these things because I think I know what everyone else needs. I write these things because I needed this knowledge and will continue to need it until Glory comes.<br />
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I was stolen from. The birds of the air, the evil one, stole God’s Word before it took any root.<br />
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I was rocky. The temptations and tribulations caused me to forget.<br />
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I was choked by the thorns. I wanted the pleasures this life had to offer more than I wanted Jesus.<br />
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The truth is this still happens. Thankfully, less than before, because God is in the process of transforming my heart. Because I can say, He has done great things for me, I can walk in victory and not chained to what stole, tempted and choked.<br />
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And, with tears, I cry out, wanting this for everyone...the people I love...and even the people I don’t know.<br />
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So, what do I do? I sow seeds.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>“Those who sow with tears</b><br />
<b> will reap with songs of joy.</b><br />
<b>Those who go out weeping,</b><br />
<b> carrying seed to sow,</b><br />
<b>will return with songs of joy,</b><br />
<b> carrying sheaves with them.” Psalm 126:5-6</b><br />
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<br />
God is in the seed business. He plants things. And, perhaps, today you read this and wonder what has been planted in you...and whether it is being impeded by the birds, rocks and thorns.<br />
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A word for you today, “He’s not done with you.” A word for me today, “He’s not done with me.” He is ready to do something new.<br />
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Hallelujah.<br />
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He is chasing your heart, friend. Stop running. Be still and let His Word be planted. Ask someone to intercede for you...so you may break free of the cycle and chains of birds, rocks and thorns. May you be transformed by the renewing of your mind.<br />
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And, as the sun breaks through the clouds and the seedlings spring up, as the season turns, may we hear and understand. May the knowledge of the LORD take our roots down deep. May we then produce a crop immeasurably more than we could ever imagine.<br />
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The strawberries are almost ready. The crop is yielding fruit. <br />
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May this new season upon me do the same in me and through me.<br />
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I look forward to sharing it with you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJMGlWK8_Rr9TbLm7wjZWCTfHt5Q5xs_A81w9HPNrzp38Yr_miZxXNiE_Zr6Ca-wLg9IZZ3LhD-iKZuEYoog-X-sIpnSqbZrRkJQQzy5rwJ-BVKCtvhF5lpBQyVAK7VH3sAldVc2YZ2YW/s1600/IMG_3447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJMGlWK8_Rr9TbLm7wjZWCTfHt5Q5xs_A81w9HPNrzp38Yr_miZxXNiE_Zr6Ca-wLg9IZZ3LhD-iKZuEYoog-X-sIpnSqbZrRkJQQzy5rwJ-BVKCtvhF5lpBQyVAK7VH3sAldVc2YZ2YW/s640/IMG_3447.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more from waiting for Little Man. I love how the Bug is holding her belly like mommy.</td></tr>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-48685439423213399412013-03-06T14:47:00.001-08:002013-03-06T14:47:20.183-08:00All The World's a StageMusic will always sink straight into my soul. I don’t know exactly what it is. Songs have a way of bringing what is going on deep down to the tip, top, front of my thoughts. The words and melody pour in and as the flood rises I feel things...it resonates...I connect my life and thoughts to the music.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KgdVyvDnoVCOSL0u7WSetV83xelvoK71xOR8eZMD69yeE0r0d5_GJlTaHPZXGY2NDJTxfnVX8qkL67YQOUZxV3kZfmt6zrMQcyyLJ7p_GRc4mN-Xwa4sdiRi3nzh0q8MwdCwiGRGDpFN/s1600/IMG_2652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KgdVyvDnoVCOSL0u7WSetV83xelvoK71xOR8eZMD69yeE0r0d5_GJlTaHPZXGY2NDJTxfnVX8qkL67YQOUZxV3kZfmt6zrMQcyyLJ7p_GRc4mN-Xwa4sdiRi3nzh0q8MwdCwiGRGDpFN/s640/IMG_2652.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />We saw Carrie Underwood in concert on Sunday night. Hunter Hayes opened. Those two can sing. Not only do they sing but they perform. They put on a show. <br /><br />We got to go at the last minute. A friend had extra tickets she was selling. I looked at the Fly with puppy-dog, pleading eyes and even after utterly spoiling me earlier in the weekend, he said, “See if you can find a babysitter.” <br /><br />I did. We went. And it was so good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmjulqInVw_KoiZIJX6WhOtaeHQzGtmfHYTYdx6yy3Uiw-axfxuwwC-SD0W4gBgWfZLv_jCk2gjZvWxo0u-VITV5y_Qnm2SraubHhaMpQuh0lqdo-Z-D6PeNmJh8EiLOgPmZuqV3LD0C9/s1600/IMG_2651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmjulqInVw_KoiZIJX6WhOtaeHQzGtmfHYTYdx6yy3Uiw-axfxuwwC-SD0W4gBgWfZLv_jCk2gjZvWxo0u-VITV5y_Qnm2SraubHhaMpQuh0lqdo-Z-D6PeNmJh8EiLOgPmZuqV3LD0C9/s640/IMG_2651.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
<br />Amidst the panting and screaming sixteen year olds and co-eds, the Fly and I and some good friends that do life with us sat in our seats and watched this young 21 year-old invigorate and inspire his audience.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruyaKdPfTN4" target="_blank">“I want to make you feel wanted.”</a><br /><br />What young girl doesn’t want that sung to her? What “not so young girl” doesn’t want that sung to her? What “I’m starting to feel old,” girl doesn’t want that sung to her? And, what “I am old, there is no denying it,” girl doesn’t want that sung to her?<br /><br />I pictured my high school and young, college self in the crowd that night. I thought about how those words would make me desperate for somebody to love me. It was what I was searching for...for so long. <br /><br />But it wasn’t my high school self or college self standing there Sunday night drinking in the words of that song. It was my 31 year-old self, a wife, a mommy, a person who wants to see Jesus in everything...because I need to. So I heard those words with a very different heart. I thanked God for my husband and I thanked God. <br /><br />The show continued and Carrie took the stage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OVY080ZxhwFC76i2KGYwqdZaiopt3Av9g8cNJG5drDtq6xwyT8ywSG8y9Mfx5PA8hwTccF21yF3yvi3GDVIW7OaalV50-9oppoWfR_-BgQrKL3Yk7Mbsis2oxGbef0qVFMENm_mMp3YS/s1600/IMG_2656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OVY080ZxhwFC76i2KGYwqdZaiopt3Av9g8cNJG5drDtq6xwyT8ywSG8y9Mfx5PA8hwTccF21yF3yvi3GDVIW7OaalV50-9oppoWfR_-BgQrKL3Yk7Mbsis2oxGbef0qVFMENm_mMp3YS/s640/IMG_2656.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0B78VR-lMvyxRwFNeC5S1cvE0z0UAXR7Ea5kE2yWqHLwxQlHRIJ29qJq2u4mDhh2ysMep_a8PN_lUx0WTsAW-SF0ie4EQhbM8BKPp7y5tBl-zmt9g4OqhgDnipSebVOJAAZa4Bw8AsVa/s1600/IMG_2663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><br />Talk about finding a voice. That girl found hers and let it rip. <br /><br />At one point she got on to a small stage, a platform, that was rigged to float out to the center of the stadium. We were right beneath her when it came to its stopping point. I waved at her and she waved back...we had a moment!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0B78VR-lMvyxRwFNeC5S1cvE0z0UAXR7Ea5kE2yWqHLwxQlHRIJ29qJq2u4mDhh2ysMep_a8PN_lUx0WTsAW-SF0ie4EQhbM8BKPp7y5tBl-zmt9g4OqhgDnipSebVOJAAZa4Bw8AsVa/s1600/IMG_2663.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0B78VR-lMvyxRwFNeC5S1cvE0z0UAXR7Ea5kE2yWqHLwxQlHRIJ29qJq2u4mDhh2ysMep_a8PN_lUx0WTsAW-SF0ie4EQhbM8BKPp7y5tBl-zmt9g4OqhgDnipSebVOJAAZa4Bw8AsVa/s640/IMG_2663.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />
She floated back to the main stage and went on with the rest of show. <br /><br />And, boy, did she own that stage. From the beginning to end she belted and worked it. At one point she introduced a couple of songs that she said meant so much to her. She sang <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LraOiHUltak" target="_blank">Temporary Home</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lydBPm2KRaU" target="_blank">Jesus Take the Wheel</a> into<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhvaDJTUmrU" target="_blank"> How Great thou Art</a>. <br /><br />I had noticed hands in the air all around us as she had been singing since she stepped on stage, but, in the moment she transitioned to How Great thou Art, I saw more hands fly up into the air. It was hard not to get to your feet or respond somehow. The lyrics coupled with the power in her voice created an undeniable Holy Moment in my opinion. <br /><br />Then something interesting happened. She couldn’t hit the high notes. We all know she can...we’ve heard it before...but in that moment her vocal chords had hit their limit and she brought it down to a safer place. She didn’t let herself crack...She humbly did what she needed to do so the show could go on. <br /><br />It was beautiful. No one cared. The moment was not about how great she is...it was about how great He is. With a smile she headed to the back of the stage to be lowered for a costume change.<br /><br />I said a quick prayer for her. I don’t know if she was upset about the moment...she handled it so graciously, it did not seem to bother her. <br /><br />If it were me I would have been beating myself up...I’m sure of it. But as I watched her I learned something from her whether she intended to teach or not. <br /><br /><b>The show must go on.</b><br /><br />I have heard and said these words many times. It is common vernacular for the theater crowd. But Sunday night gave me a new freedom to tie to this phrase.<br /><br />I am human. Carrie is human. The things I am able to do I am only able to do because the God who created the universe gave me the ability to do them. And, as long as I am using those abilities properly to glorify Him he will take what may look like error, failure or mistakes and bring glory to Himself. <br /><br /><b>I just need to take the stage He has given me and do what He is asking me to do.</b><br /><br />I believe God has given Carrie her gifts and talents. I believe God has given Carrie a stage and a platform and she is using it well. She even used it that night to sing about the greatness of our God. And, as I watched her I thought about how when I was a little girl I wanted to be a country singer. She sang<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbycvUQzVD8" target="_blank"> I Told You So</a> originally by Randy Travis and talked about how she wore out her sister’s cassette tape listening to it. I remember wearing my mom’s same cassette tape out! Another moment.<br /><br />Obviously, I am not a country singer today, although, in my car I am. However, I do believe that there is still a stage for me to take, today. And, that my friends, make me so happy to say. I’ve missed a stage for a long time now. I’ve missed performing, acting, singing, dancing. I’ve missed my character shoes and costumes and lights. But, Sunday night, as the music washed over my soul I was confident that God had given me a stage as well.<br /><br />Right now, it is mainly for the little people in my life. I sing from it. I dance on it. I teach, guide and discipline. I speak words that hopefully bring life and encouragement to those who listen. <br /><br />Shakespeare wrote in As You Like It, <br /><br /><i>All the world's a stage,<br />And all the men and women merely players:<br />They have their exits and their entrances;<br />And one man in his time plays many parts...</i><br /><br />Shakespeare goes on to talk about the stages of life and how we eventually end up as infantile as we entered this world.<br /><br />When I think about this quote, one I’ve held on to and savored, I am reminded that my love for a stage was wired in me by my creator. And although at 7 and 17 I thought my stage would look one way and bring much glory to me, I am so thankful that God interfered. My prayer is that every stage I find myself on, whether it be in a family room, a theater ,or a stadium would bring glory to Him.<br /><br />So, thank you, Fly, for the night out. It did more in heart than I can express.<br /><br />Thank you, Hunter Hayes, for reminding me where I came from and where I am today.<br /><br />Thank you, Carrie Underwood, for bringing glory to God and teaching me a most valuable lesson.<br /><br />Thank you, dear Lord, for the stage I am on now and the part you have given me to play, today.<br /><br />And as new exits and entrances come may I be humble and gracious with every part I am given....<br /><br />...because the show must go on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and the Fly guy. He makes me feel wanted.</td></tr>
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<br /><br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-8914741032195111882013-02-17T22:54:00.001-08:002013-02-17T22:54:24.935-08:00Whom Shall I fear?<div class="MsoNormal">
She’s learning to ride her bike without training
wheels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's hard to believe this was only 3 1/2 years ago. (Photo taken by Amanda at April Smith Photography)</td></tr>
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She can get her own snacks out of the refrigerator now.</div>
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My favorite thing is when she sings along in the car…at the
top of her lungs.</div>
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Honestly, the child has been singing along with songs for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mean to be that mom on the
popular talents competition shows that says, “She’s been singing since
birth!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, that’s exactly what
I’m saying. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now singing and...dancing.</td></tr>
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When she had just turned two, right around the time the
Little Man was born, she had a favorite song on the Veggie Tales <i>Oh, Brother
Where are Thou?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> CD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would sing along with the chorus
and everyone that heard her do it would melt as she sang, “Ba Ba Ba…I’m a
little sheep!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adorable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But as her little legs have grown a little longer and her baby
face has leaned out a little more and her little fingers have stretched
further, her little voice has become clearer and louder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, when she sings, she is passionate,
committed and full of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were driving to church one Saturday night and her current
“favorite” song shuffled to the top of my playlist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She began to sing at the top of her lungs…every word of the
song…she knew them and she sang those words like she believed them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled out my phone to record the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had heard her do it before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She learned it fast and asked for it
every time we got in the car but in that particular moment I knew that I needed
to remember it…for both of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I played it for good friends…friends that love her and know
her Ba Ba Ba phase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played it
for our small group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played it
for myself over and over.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago I watched it up on the big screens in our
main church service. I stood there and she stood on the chair next to
me…excited to see herself but more excited they were going to sing her favorite
song.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I know who goes before me,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I know who stands behind,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The God of angel armies</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Is always by my side.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Whom shall I fear?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I think about my sweet babies the last thing I want for
them is to fight that battle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t want them to be afraid like I have been.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyJaBn9FNUr4e3CjdwWC9haU_8wvjmDmUCAZUhTGu3rUHFCGLBiWmEb8TuuOYuftF7vBxeUcTT6r2ADvAxL_ex0jpnVeGW_pdCzLi0f-mlFAVGuV5X-lwG6bYHvlk9QcrcNFhfeEdbwbX/s1600/IMG_2462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyJaBn9FNUr4e3CjdwWC9haU_8wvjmDmUCAZUhTGu3rUHFCGLBiWmEb8TuuOYuftF7vBxeUcTT6r2ADvAxL_ex0jpnVeGW_pdCzLi0f-mlFAVGuV5X-lwG6bYHvlk9QcrcNFhfeEdbwbX/s1600/IMG_2462.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have felt that way for a while now…so I began praying
about it…a while ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s no secret to those that are close to me and maybe even
those that don’t know me but read what I write, that I am a huge advocate of
the power of prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen
it move mountains in people’s lives.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This weekend I experienced God demolish a mountain in my own
life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As with most things spiritual, it’s hard to explain, but I
will do my best with the words that tumble out of my very full heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have found when something happens in a heart it’s hard to
articulate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It often takes time to
show itself in a life, in a way of living a life, I should say.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this is what I can tell you with certainty:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">God
awakened my heart to prayer, again, at this time last year while I was
awake at night with my Little Man.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I
began to dream again.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I
began to pray for people that would come to my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I didn’t know what to
pray anymore I asked the Holy Spirit to pray through me, and He did, just
as the Scriptures says He does.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I
committed certain people to prayer for seasons at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked God to lead me to
scripture to pray for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He did.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I
tried fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hard
but it changed my prayer life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It stretched me and took me deeper.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I wrote
things down…not just here…but in a journal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(When I die, whoever finds these journals may think I
was certifiably insane…oh, well!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My best friend, who journals also, told her husband to never read
hers…just burn them…perhaps I should have that conversation with my Fly.)</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I
prayed with other people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was HUGE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
doubt crept in, when I sensed His face was hidden from me, when I was
unsure and needed wise counsel…others came alongside and joined me in
pursuit of what God was doing.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when Friday came, and some ladies joined together to pray
for me, for our church, for The Church, it was not unthinkable or unimaginable
that God might show up and move a mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t unthinkable or unimaginable but I did not expect
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not expect it to be so
simple and so powerful all at the same time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the course of 3 days, prayers I have been praying for at
least 10 years, and probably longer, have been answered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10 years for 3 days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was worth it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our Pastor talked about three days this weekend. A Friday, A
Saturday, A Sunday That Changed The World.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those days that Lent prepares us for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentioned three days on
Friday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The past three days have
been transformational…ushering in new things…new hope…new life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It never ceases to amaze me how God lines things up and
comes to a person from all sides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some call it Providence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday morning I looked at the mountains above our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were so clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later that morning I was reminded, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-125-1"><i>Those who trust in the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><i>Lord</i></span></span><span class="textps-125-1"><i> are like Mount Zion,</i></span><i><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-125-1">which cannot be shaken but endures forever.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-125-1"><i><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Psalm
125:1</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight I go to bed, trusting in a new way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holding to promises I saw Him keep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peace and courage now residing in the
deep places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Believing with the
conviction of child like faith,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know who goes before me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know who stands behind,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The God of angel armies</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is always by my side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whom shall I fear?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what does my tumbling of words mean for you tonight,
friend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>know that they make much sense but I
can tell you sometimes sense is over-rated. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My truth-telling for the night:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not only does He love you just because.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But He cares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cares so much that He listens to your cries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows what keeps you up at
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if you engage it, if
you are willing to walk the days of pain, the days of waiting…you will
experience the transformation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The third day always comes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-27634001550697954032013-02-15T21:41:00.000-08:002013-02-15T21:41:44.358-08:00My Lent Project<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlz-Vd6xwAkDRaZ0O9-zlxxJfQSzcAVOshNcylUpGVlWKmaGbT9m_rGJCWNsnGc0g_ZwJDpzQ9XB0_AcTDrx1llLkILko9RlpEFk7D8hx7aQdmOFfVGyE8YK9x5zoEGWedAtUC_2W1IWJk/s1600/IMG_2610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlz-Vd6xwAkDRaZ0O9-zlxxJfQSzcAVOshNcylUpGVlWKmaGbT9m_rGJCWNsnGc0g_ZwJDpzQ9XB0_AcTDrx1llLkILko9RlpEFk7D8hx7aQdmOFfVGyE8YK9x5zoEGWedAtUC_2W1IWJk/s1600/IMG_2610.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for Valentine's Day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been three days since lent began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember, clearly, for four years of high school, walking
the giant flight of stairs to the gym.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In dress uniform, the girls climbed to what felt as far as heaven, to
gather for Mass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One at a time we
would be marked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cross on our
foreheads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ashes. A sign of
repentance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A reminder to turn
toward Jesus.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I would have understood that then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God has reminded me today what He can do with a repentant
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I knew then what I
know now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would I chase the same
dreams? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicivsCzn9hZeNVeUxhVbsZ5jbggIoQyosSfnB40KIHSA2AWco5f2ogTnrK45w_skPmnvZnAh07Ps5enRAb-U7CYztPtj-KpD1jPQbi4LyMH_9fueriEG4xVye5z_6FgfzBTQiE3TSCOIZv/s1600/IMG_2603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicivsCzn9hZeNVeUxhVbsZ5jbggIoQyosSfnB40KIHSA2AWco5f2ogTnrK45w_skPmnvZnAh07Ps5enRAb-U7CYztPtj-KpD1jPQbi4LyMH_9fueriEG4xVye5z_6FgfzBTQiE3TSCOIZv/s1600/IMG_2603.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dreaming boy after a hard time falling asleep.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need to focus on what I do know now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that Lent has begun and this
girl who grew up going through the motions of it but not fully understanding
it, is ready to embrace it and be transformed by it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hallelujah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I searched my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth be known, I have been searching for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Desperate to know what the next step
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hungry for more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Tuesday, it hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like a tidal wave that had been
building for months, years, perhaps my lifetime, it hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to be afraid anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afraid of people’s opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afraid of parking lots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afraid of not being accepted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afraid of being rejected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW-WKqc43m4Z7SepRJZeVmzHcrhVWZeozsfDAYq98dykbfSmlYf-91obnZcXcOWox9Ko8LYuQlhrh-LKUY3xRWkL8YXlnpqHrGpnF_KkENLA3bo80MCsWdrR1jVsy1efQRFR8tPnXIe6D/s1600/IMG_2605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW-WKqc43m4Z7SepRJZeVmzHcrhVWZeozsfDAYq98dykbfSmlYf-91obnZcXcOWox9Ko8LYuQlhrh-LKUY3xRWkL8YXlnpqHrGpnF_KkENLA3bo80MCsWdrR1jVsy1efQRFR8tPnXIe6D/s1600/IMG_2605.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afraid I might leave. No more fear, sweet boy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, it is time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know in
my head that I don’t want to live this way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to blow away with the winds of compromise
because I am scared to say what I know or what I believe. I want my words to
hold weight of wisdom and conviction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want to speak truth…in love…but always truth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to say, surely, my trust is in the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have placed my confidence in
Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I say it, I want to
mean it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I’m giving up a few things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the next six weeks, from now until the sun rises on
Easter Sunday, I will be asking God to break things, break me, break
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am creating space and
removing the things I numbingly go to for acceptance, “community”, inspiration,
and affirmation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, for Lent, I am giving up social media.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Facebook, Twitter, Instagram,
Pinterest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize that I am not the first to fast from social
media.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is always healthy to
take a break from the screens in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more importantly, for me, I want space to trust in God
alone for ALL my needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will also not be reading any BLOGS!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'm in pursuit of my own voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UDpnt8mmJAyw-ET3Gz4pyhbgwWfTlJ6rUITs5SVN8pwrCZSYS-lA_gU7T1o7Oj7j3grbWZkPNZFXMrBjhsCQguuxfjW87r4Tu6tJsHdjBs3AD-6dL2NwtYXlltWBEM4f5Kv0CIMOXDSP/s1600/IMG_2624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UDpnt8mmJAyw-ET3Gz4pyhbgwWfTlJ6rUITs5SVN8pwrCZSYS-lA_gU7T1o7Oj7j3grbWZkPNZFXMrBjhsCQguuxfjW87r4Tu6tJsHdjBs3AD-6dL2NwtYXlltWBEM4f5Kv0CIMOXDSP/s1600/IMG_2624.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This kids got a voice...but now he doesn't have a guitar!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I want to keep writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to share my stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to bless others and encourage people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want people to know that they are not
alone and there is great hope in the One we can call our Savior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He binds up the broken hearted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sets captives free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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But first, I need to be set free so I can tell the truth…the
whole truth and nothing but the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So help me, God.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will keep writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Starting this third day of the Lenten season and culminating on the
third day that changed the world.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It changed me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m praying that through this I will discover my voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I sing along through the next
40-some days I will speak afresh and anew.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know it’s there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m ready for it to be unlocked so I can tell the world, without fear,
how fearfully and wonderfully made each creature is by a creator who loves
them.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not because of anything you ever did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just because.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I will leave it there for now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let it sink in.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Blessings this Lent and looking forward to The Third Day. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinr6XyW6q9nO_jgAIlqRjdUsaMrzqZwg4YlABhGSG8J_fDexKfo03i5GB-FGUNi2j0Jck7yUg2G7wN5up9ufsBywvACFnvQ3iuaxTBEvOmI-ygWH4ka3UdzvG2gTdCx-OmS0Krso1j3UWt/s1600/IMG_2587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinr6XyW6q9nO_jgAIlqRjdUsaMrzqZwg4YlABhGSG8J_fDexKfo03i5GB-FGUNi2j0Jck7yUg2G7wN5up9ufsBywvACFnvQ3iuaxTBEvOmI-ygWH4ka3UdzvG2gTdCx-OmS0Krso1j3UWt/s1600/IMG_2587.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mommy and The Bug. I pray she knows how fearfully and wonderfully made she is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-2242184507491696002013-01-31T22:46:00.000-08:002013-01-31T22:46:34.421-08:00Memorize<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am memorizing more this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was inspired by three best friends and the “Siestas” over
at the <a href="http://blog.lproof.org/" target="_blank">LPM blog</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Um, I love Beth
Moore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have learned so much from
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I think we are
really friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also think that
Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, Chandler, Ross and Joey are my friends too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I have a problem identifying
reality…topic for another post, I guess.)
</div>
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Back to reality…</div>
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I have always had a knack for memorizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, when it comes to memorizing
scripture I often find myself making silent excuses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea floats by and I pretend that I have more important
things to do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The truth is that if I really made it a discipline I know I
could do it well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a trained
memorizer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I basically majored in
memorizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I was a theater
major…well, technically a communications major with a theater emphasis but it’s
a long story…again, perhaps another post.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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My heart began to feel convicted as I could easily recall my
very first memorized line from my debut performance as a three year old playing
the Shoemaker’s wife in the classic tale of The Elves and The Shoemaker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can recite monologues from
Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, The Tempest and Romeo and Juliet, however,
my Scripture memory bank consists of verses like Jeremiah 29:11 and John
3:16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both are powerful, both are
living and active, breathed words from the mouth of God, but there is so much
more.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This last fall I read a book called<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heavenly-Man-Remarkable-Chinese-Christian/dp/082546207X" target="_blank"> The Heavenly Man.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It changed my mind, no, it changed my heart, about memorizing
scripture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made me crave
it…like carbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The book is about a
man named Brother Yun and his story of spreading the Gospel in China through
the 80’s and 90’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His story is
inspiring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It taught me and gave
me knew and fresh perspective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
one of the greatest things I took away was how God ministered to him and others
because of the Word that was written on his heart…in a place that no one could
destroy or take from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I wanted that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wanted more of His Word to well up in me in the hours of my greatest joys and
greatest despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is “sharper
than a double-edged sword, splitting bone and marrow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It brings healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
creates…love, beauty, clean hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is powerful and when spoken, it gives life.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I started here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is the first one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
found it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I was brought to it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>January 1<sup>st</sup></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Psalm 104:33</b></div>
<b>
</b><div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I will sing to the LORD all the days of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will sing praise to the LORD while I
have my being</b>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It is a gem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have turned it and chewed on it and savored it. I have been inspired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been transformed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am singing again…at the top of my
lungs. Really. ask my neighbors.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As I began to sing loudly, everyday, I began to feel free
and something wonderful happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>God used this verse to plant a new thing in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now it is a seed, but it’s
growing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope to share it with
you soon.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3064bgYDP_sEvdLK0RS6Nh4DVE1dQd6dHV5yXNxtB9_GXEn_FKUOtU-fSxelabpFszwqmNJZLc_qh_Ad1S7hcN2hjqDEeifJ84TC3fKpzNcfldarENoD7cd7dTeyO1f5CSmGWOL9SAzhq/s1600/IMG_2407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3064bgYDP_sEvdLK0RS6Nh4DVE1dQd6dHV5yXNxtB9_GXEn_FKUOtU-fSxelabpFszwqmNJZLc_qh_Ad1S7hcN2hjqDEeifJ84TC3fKpzNcfldarENoD7cd7dTeyO1f5CSmGWOL9SAzhq/s640/IMG_2407.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More music makers in my home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The middle of the month came fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I memorized this one next.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>January 15<sup>th</sup></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Psalm 27:8</b></div>
<b>
</b><div class="MsoNormal">
<b>When you said, “Seek my face,” my heart said, “Your face,
LORD, I will seek.”</b>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This one was reminiscent and a driving force simultaneously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last February, I felt God say this to
me…not in these exact words then but this is the exact<i><b> Word</b></i> to
describe the scene now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through
promptings, miracles and visions of His over-arching, never-ceasing love in the
day but mostly in the night hours awake with my Little Man, God told me to seek His
face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wL7Nivf4qQA/T3VA4iSsykI/AAAAAAAAAWM/GKAFtpLmz9A/s1600/IMG_0927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wL7Nivf4qQA/T3VA4iSsykI/AAAAAAAAAWM/GKAFtpLmz9A/s640/IMG_0927.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saw the sky like this one night right after my heart was set to seek His face. I couldn't help but see His Glory. Looking at it again tonight it looks like a horse pulling a chariot...that's on fire...wow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I sought it out through worship in prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my knees, rocking in a big blue
chair, scrubbing Johnson & Johnson in baby fine hair and curly locks…I
sought…it was either that or drown in exhaustion and believe the lies that I
wasn’t doing anything of any importance.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Remember when He said, “Seek me and you will find me…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did and I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, I’m not the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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My heart, my will, everything in me, knew I needed
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t have anything left
to give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sought the one who
gave it all for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In real
weakness I experienced His real strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, I’m not done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
the beautiful thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We get to
seek and continue to seek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t
ever stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is so much more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow is February 1<sup>st</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is my number 3.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Psalm 119:103</b></div>
<b>
</b><div class="MsoNormal">
<b> </b><b>How sweet are Your words to my taste,</b>
</div>
<b></b><div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sweeter than honey to my mouth!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The Bible is always equating its words to my greatest
cravings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sweets and
Bread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sugar and Carbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4RlTcPi8WKzg7oLeE0NtkYptsXrSHKOrHBad9FneuQJcWPKet-KWlCHYmoo8GLNj9_YXj1mnyiqtDvhrXV9ryHRhLMu1Bpib4rCYhh2Z6uK8sUvgJiEx9t8SujRTsIvHX09I_VjYs4U6/s1600/IMG_2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4RlTcPi8WKzg7oLeE0NtkYptsXrSHKOrHBad9FneuQJcWPKet-KWlCHYmoo8GLNj9_YXj1mnyiqtDvhrXV9ryHRhLMu1Bpib4rCYhh2Z6uK8sUvgJiEx9t8SujRTsIvHX09I_VjYs4U6/s640/IMG_2521.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left overs from a night of good food, good friends and good laughs. If you leave sweets at my house I WILL eat them. All of them. You have been warned.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, here I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Three verses in and 21 to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I write them out by hand every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s how I would memorize my lines in a play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the muscles in my hands worked the
words to the paper I would see them and read them in my own handwriting,
learning the part, the person I would play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would identify as I began to make-believe they were words
from my very own heart.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I write His Words in my own hand-writ, I see them, and
do-believe them and receive them into my very own heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I start to remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I said I would write more this year…not just my own words,
though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to write His Words
on my heart so that <b>The Word</b> will be the overflow pouring out of my mouth as I
speak and my fingers as I type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m praying, this year, I will sing more, and sing louder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m praying I will not stop
seeking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m praying I will crave
His Word like never before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMOTeNOo6l4p0oxDTOlp3aTBACeVWHin7MhaTcSv6FHeAJPbuP68Bgec-A23qT8ywyHUiKQsgDUU9iUbk8egQiaaTvfN2zb7ckFRSriz9W6fK4a1QCYo633dbLALRgQzyLTIEFq26iCMd/s1600/IMG_2481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMOTeNOo6l4p0oxDTOlp3aTBACeVWHin7MhaTcSv6FHeAJPbuP68Bgec-A23qT8ywyHUiKQsgDUU9iUbk8egQiaaTvfN2zb7ckFRSriz9W6fK4a1QCYo633dbLALRgQzyLTIEFq26iCMd/s640/IMG_2481.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug said, "Smell it, Mommy. It smells like sunshine." Oh, that we may be child-like!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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And, I desperately want others to experience this too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So. Why not join me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehPm34I_O-oQ-yz6vPPg5Zhs4vDz0TMPfxHC88tmJ8AXJIFQ9SR0DVDO3LI7w5m7xRdC50aQgMdTRiypwG_bC24vrSObzOJyLYzFygKU9B6Jxb90bFPrGfaRs1VzKSgU-BG71RNunbs26/s1600/DSC00973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehPm34I_O-oQ-yz6vPPg5Zhs4vDz0TMPfxHC88tmJ8AXJIFQ9SR0DVDO3LI7w5m7xRdC50aQgMdTRiypwG_bC24vrSObzOJyLYzFygKU9B6Jxb90bFPrGfaRs1VzKSgU-BG71RNunbs26/s640/DSC00973.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more...since it is #throwbackthursday, after all. Me, singing As Long As He Needs Me, as Nancy in Oliver. I will never forget this moment. I was loud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-32993021969879932032013-01-23T22:31:00.000-08:002013-01-23T22:33:00.949-08:00If I Die<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR7CjGAhC7HxIx5FYAVPrxN9KKq7ritScxwKfHPi-CQEqmrgHTri41GqZKhRHZLpmkOIN8SK6osRgf_JAP5eSJtvj6oCNeGFHcnXHv1J3P1X4crk2M9qnTEhfuBV3JYyiAxD0A3xEXErb/s1600/DSC00886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR7CjGAhC7HxIx5FYAVPrxN9KKq7ritScxwKfHPi-CQEqmrgHTri41GqZKhRHZLpmkOIN8SK6osRgf_JAP5eSJtvj6oCNeGFHcnXHv1J3P1X4crk2M9qnTEhfuBV3JYyiAxD0A3xEXErb/s640/DSC00886.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They play together now.</td></tr>
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-</style><b><span style="font-size: large;">“He hit me!!”</span></b></div>
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I’ve heard this too many times in the past few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I scoop him up and place him in the
time out spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t
spank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have our own personal
reasons why we don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may have
strong opposing opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
respect them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now that I’m 31
I don’t feel like I have to agree with you and we can still be lovely
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Look at me, growing up!)</div>
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I tell the Little Man why he was in time out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say, “We do not hit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Show me gentle.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He leans in for a hug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With tears sliding down his cheeks he
rubs his face into my shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
mama shoulder wipes the residual wetness from his face and eyes as he buries
his head next to mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2WWmLJRDHcvteTVXKoCApmM1bCBKPsDaN4E2fxZr52bOV-1kYjM7OxbYkF-ESnGjPAuMx7PbTtyTgY0VmVOC3Gsm0-KL061cmox_jX-TN_j4kl-accb3Ay5eInLXy0nSo_IjX9ZaFl0L/s1600/DSC00887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2WWmLJRDHcvteTVXKoCApmM1bCBKPsDaN4E2fxZr52bOV-1kYjM7OxbYkF-ESnGjPAuMx7PbTtyTgY0VmVOC3Gsm0-KL061cmox_jX-TN_j4kl-accb3Ay5eInLXy0nSo_IjX9ZaFl0L/s640/DSC00887.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's always more fun when you turn the toys upside down.</td></tr>
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I tell him to go and tell his sister he is sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walks up to her and in his baby
voice with his baby words he says it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She understands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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“I forgive you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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And they play on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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I sit and watch them and think to myself, “How do I do this
better?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I teach and correct
and guide?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I steer them
away from my own pitfalls and shortcomings?”</div>
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I check my email on my phone, my habit for when I am
overwhelmed with thoughts and want to disengage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I see <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" target="_blank">one of the blogs I love to read.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I look through the older email seeing if there is something
else to read but I am drawn back to it, my soul just knowing that I need to
read it, my spirit urging me on.</div>
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My eyes well up and I am so grateful her words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They bring me peace and remind me of
grace.</div>
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As I continue to fight this battle of what it looks like to
live a life not perfect but being perfected I hang on to reminders that grace
covers me…and them.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaO78G5A_leetJOMVoTn-No_yMZ2EIIawkPBi9ge6Xkgw6Uj1jiszLYewLf6hRb3ECCNy9N8_ecXvVjqzUI0-b_5JpdpRziXjN8oaCLHzErCgAibzxUX9T4gp9wfWsz7qAKM8gqR1J7Rtn/s1600/DSC00894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaO78G5A_leetJOMVoTn-No_yMZ2EIIawkPBi9ge6Xkgw6Uj1jiszLYewLf6hRb3ECCNy9N8_ecXvVjqzUI0-b_5JpdpRziXjN8oaCLHzErCgAibzxUX9T4gp9wfWsz7qAKM8gqR1J7Rtn/s640/DSC00894.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iRyEX7vIJjnDg6eWxbf-VRSCSzwVC6zqL8xy0tadGSw9NWaR6Ug793-cUodeQy-LvCM3Cemc-XGX3ezoX1TIa8AjizNVjUr11cDvATVhZkFxUBQ305MoU6evVfTYiTfudW1pHo2zS1TG/s1600/DSC00898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iRyEX7vIJjnDg6eWxbf-VRSCSzwVC6zqL8xy0tadGSw9NWaR6Ug793-cUodeQy-LvCM3Cemc-XGX3ezoX1TIa8AjizNVjUr11cDvATVhZkFxUBQ305MoU6evVfTYiTfudW1pHo2zS1TG/s640/DSC00898.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He is so active these days. He keeps me moving...running I should say.</td></tr>
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I wrote about <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Legacy</b></span> not long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, now all of this has me thinking of what I want to leave
behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coincidentally, I had a
dream last night that I was going to die and I told the Fly that there were 3
things I wanted him to make sure the kids knew and understood.</div>
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<b>They are loved.</b></div>
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<b>Be in authentic and faith-filled community.</b></div>
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<b>Pray real prayers.</b></div>
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If I could add one more today, I would say,</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And always, no matter what, Forgive.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhI9xCFLA6S0TZd7sI5zVqcs_FOPNJVwjE7KCNBcPJeLnq6jfcUpkmd4Z8fyz4imoSDnZ8c-QRCEcPTsMGnEjLpdhnH4Blim9XRYJF4U4S0judWRUriEVEb7JiL8YPcR6kzztbYcWR7QD/s1600/DSC00904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhI9xCFLA6S0TZd7sI5zVqcs_FOPNJVwjE7KCNBcPJeLnq6jfcUpkmd4Z8fyz4imoSDnZ8c-QRCEcPTsMGnEjLpdhnH4Blim9XRYJF4U4S0judWRUriEVEb7JiL8YPcR6kzztbYcWR7QD/s640/DSC00904.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbml6DDLsA2w9SOc3YqBswArlullxnJKEwveJCdaiyfnky1Ffr_DoJOkRlFCIYEC8603lcS7z6SMwm7UvFnnu_LPOFcvKDHrzxjSqiQdWL-nXqco3jWiaKdEQQXkcf6vYBMKEf5lygFjTx/s1600/DSC00916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbml6DDLsA2w9SOc3YqBswArlullxnJKEwveJCdaiyfnky1Ffr_DoJOkRlFCIYEC8603lcS7z6SMwm7UvFnnu_LPOFcvKDHrzxjSqiQdWL-nXqco3jWiaKdEQQXkcf6vYBMKEf5lygFjTx/s640/DSC00916.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She loves to hang. On anything. Even me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Only forgiveness frees us up and unlocks the chains that
keep us from understanding and fully experiencing the others listed above.</div>
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I know that I will try hard and I will fail hard as I
stumble and stride down the path of “leaving legacy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, my hope is, when they are grown and they wash their own
clothes and feed their own bellies they will continue to say, <b>“I forgive you.” </b></div>
Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-37336467690521431322013-01-21T23:20:00.001-08:002013-01-21T23:20:57.936-08:00Resolve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It’s 21 days into the new year and I want to
write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For fifteen minutes every
night,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to get better at getting the
thoughts that race through my mind during the day onto paper…or the
screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hJRl05PbW-k/UPZJgwm8l6I/AAAAAAAAAf8/uPlaYlX0le0/s1600/DSC00721.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hJRl05PbW-k/UPZJgwm8l6I/AAAAAAAAAf8/uPlaYlX0le0/s640/DSC00721.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am beginning to see Him everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some days I find that the desire to
tell my story, His story, overwhelms me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then the small people in my life overwhelm me and between all of the
feelings of being overwhelmed the holy moments slip through and I forget them
as soon as I realize them.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q8471pJ588U/UPZJg6K7DiI/AAAAAAAAAgA/sTbzsKuGuqE/s1600/DSC00719.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q8471pJ588U/UPZJg6K7DiI/AAAAAAAAAgA/sTbzsKuGuqE/s640/DSC00719.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Uncle and the Bug. "Tend-Pre" dinner. I don't want to let this one slip. It's too precious.</td></tr>
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So, although I don’t believe in resolutions, mainly because
I always fail, I am asking God to give me the resolve to write…everyday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Grace is a huge word in my vocabulary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is much needed…more than calcium or
vitamin C, in my opinion, mainly because I forget to take those things
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grace will be needed.</div>
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So here we go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Lord, help me to capture your heart on the page. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vKhQZ1TZTvg/UPZJgwxe_SI/AAAAAAAAAf4/ZUKvsa2TGaE/s1600/DSC00714.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vKhQZ1TZTvg/UPZJgwxe_SI/AAAAAAAAAf4/ZUKvsa2TGaE/s640/DSC00714.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This boy captures my heart. He's the cutest little trouble maker. </td></tr>
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Good night 2012. Thank you for waking me up. Thank you for bringing me back to life.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AtSJOyDD_-Y/UPZJlCTylQI/AAAAAAAAAgU/BjN3gngMRek/s1600/DSC00744.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AtSJOyDD_-Y/UPZJlCTylQI/AAAAAAAAAgU/BjN3gngMRek/s640/DSC00744.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take One. Hilarious. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-IJGtEjgjw/UPZJlHIVsQI/AAAAAAAAAgY/Gnc3bCGO8hs/s1600/DSC00745.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-IJGtEjgjw/UPZJlHIVsQI/AAAAAAAAAgY/Gnc3bCGO8hs/s640/DSC00745.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take
two. This is my side of the family in front of the "Grizwold Family
Christmas Tree." Seriously, that sucker was 12 feet high. I love these
people and our tendencies for the extravagant.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Cheers to 2013. Oh, how I welcome you and the new thing that springs up!</div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-4374340057152412512012-12-22T22:08:00.002-08:002012-12-22T22:08:53.705-08:00Every Heartbeat <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-06oUhY7vLbA/UNacnqtlUrI/AAAAAAAAAd4/y6EZIDjtjVo/s1600/DSC00371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-06oUhY7vLbA/UNacnqtlUrI/AAAAAAAAAd4/y6EZIDjtjVo/s640/DSC00371.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
5th grade was a hard year. I did not like school. I clearly remember sobbing at the dinner table as I was trying to finish my "composition technique" homework. I had to write three sentence paragraphs about Native Americans. I had memorized <u>The Song of Hiawatha</u> in its entirety, no problem, but composing a topic sentence with two supporting sentences wrecked havoc on my 10-year-old brain.<br />
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<i>Little did I know that writing would one day become a source of creativity, an outlet. Little did I know that writing would reveal the mysteries and the miracles I so easily sped by before.</i><br />
<br />
Getting the sentences on the paper would prove a struggle for much of my schooling, however, there was an avenue where my synapses fired and I thrived. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Creative Arts.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug's first Recital.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3EA2FFvN-B0/UNact4JDvzI/AAAAAAAAAe8/154yg2UDvG8/s1600/DSC00633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3EA2FFvN-B0/UNact4JDvzI/AAAAAAAAAe8/154yg2UDvG8/s640/DSC00633.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
Whether I was dancing, acting, singing, gymnastic-cizing, (yes, I know, I made that word up,) ice skating, or creating with my hands, I put my whole heart into it. I loved to create. I<b> love</b> to create.<br />
<br />
If you head back to my very first post, <a href="http://www.allisonschrader.blogspot.com/2011/08/lesson-from-amy.html" target="_blank">A Lesson From Amy</a>, you will learn of my fond feelings for Amy Grant. They were woven in at a young age. And, once again, Amy inspires yet another story.<br />
<br />
With big bangs, black, ribbed bicycle shorts and floral tops with a tie-front, chiffon overlay that flared at the bottom, all purchased at Mervyn's, four <i>extremely talented</i> 5th grade girls performed an interpretive rendition, if you will, of the 1991 hit single, Every Heartbeat, at the school talent show. <i>( I heart run-on sentences. Take that, composition techniques!)</i><br />
<br />
It. Was. Epic. Oh, how I wish I had the video to show you...or at least a picture.<br />
<br />
"Every heartbeat bears your name<br />Loud and clear they stake my claim<br />My red blood runs true blue<br />And every heartbeat belongs to you." <br />
<br />
<i>(It's okay to sing along if you know the words.)</i><br />
<br />
Yes. Just like I remember, "By the shores of Gitche Gumee, by the shinging Big-Sea waters..." (Hiawatha, my friends!) and the tears at the dinner table, I remember the truly inspired choreography of the chorus. With strong windmill arms, grape-vines, and bended knees the four of us told the "classic story of boy meets girl...moving the same direction." <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We told the story. </b></span><br />
<br />
Tonight, as I sit and wait for Christmas to come with a child's anticipation, I am remembering the stories. Stories of my childhood. Stories that I read. Stories that I told. Stories that I lived.<br />
<br />
In the middle of all the remembering I found myself reading about Abraham. The Bible gives him an incredible eulogy. One I so desperately want to be true of me.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Then Abraham breathed his last and died at a good old age, an old man and full of years; and he was gathered to his people."</i><sup> </sup><i>Genesis 25:8</i></span><br />
<br />
It made me think about my kids, the stories I tell them and what I want them to remember. It made me think about the stories I am living with the people in my life and what I want them to remember. What do I want to leave behind?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Legacy.</b></span><br />
<br />
This word has weighed on my mind. I continue to come back to it. <br />
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<br />
As life unfolds and these days become the next ones I remember I desperately want all the days to point to One. The One who ordered them. The One who redeemed them. The One who breathed afresh on them.<br />
<i> </i><br />
If every heartbeat I was graced with could bear <i><b>His</b></i> name...what would that look like? If I could point my kids to Jesus as we walk to the park or look at the Christmas lights, what would they remember? Will they look back at their own 10-year-old tears and see how the sweat, the ache, the frustration, the failure, the perseverence and their need for help could lead to a beautiful revelation of His goodness and grace?<br />
<br />
As Christmas comes in a few days and the new year sweeps in right behind, I am praying <b>LEGACY.</b> I want to leave behind a <b>grace-filled </b>story. A story that reminds the ones I love and even the ones I may not know that the God who came to be <i><u><b>with us</b></u></i> is <u><i><b>for us</b></i></u>. <br />
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<br />
Amy was singing about a boy, and at 10, I was too. But tonight, as I remember the cheesy 90's pop chorus (sorry Amy!), I am reminded of a baby King who grew into a boy and then a man whose red blood ran even though it was <b><i>Royal</i></b> blue. <br />
<br />
This baby King came to save me and wrap His love around me so I could tell His story to a broken world and pray those that hear it will remember it and tell it again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug and her proud mama who curbed her inner "stage-mom," and never fixed the head-band. Let's just say it was a proud night for both of us.</td></tr>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-79743791553661120982012-12-06T15:29:00.000-08:002012-12-06T15:29:57.340-08:00My Grown Up Christmas List<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is the email I received from my hero, my dad. <br />
<br />
So many prayers have been answered in the last month. My reaction? Wanting more. <br />
<br />
Instead of recognizing answers and God's outstretched arm and His right hand moving in the dark spots and hopeless places, I sulked in self-pity. I steeped in loneliness, letting myself be infused with doubt. My eyes were closed and my ears were deaf.<br />
<br />
But as I read, for a second time, "Your prayers are being answered," I confessed in my heart and humbly thanked God for hearing my cry...giving an ear to little ol' me. I let my heart soak up the joy that He was
so longing to fill me with.<br />
<br />
Then I stared at the next sentence. <br />
<br />
My daddy is the greatest gift giver. His gifts are thoughtful. His gifts are sought out. They are wrapped with pretty bows and love pours out of them as you unwrap them. It's not because of what it is but because his heart, his love, is obvious in the contents. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my Daddy...dancing as my sweet sister serenaded us.</td></tr>
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<br />
For a few days I've struggled with the gift receiving and gift giving questions. I have battled it all...guilt for wanting things for myself...guilt for not knowing which charity to give to...guilt for being overwhelmed with all the stuff I need to do to point my family toward Christ this Christmas...guilt about whether to buy or not to buy...you get it, guilty. <br />
<br />
So, today in a quiet moment, stolen from the to-do list, I sat down with my anxious heart and wrote this:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What do I want for Christmas?</i></span><br />
<br /><ul>
<li>I want my family to fall more in love with Jesus, desperately seeking Him for all they need. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want my kids to learn that people are not perfect but are only made perfect through the gift of grace that comes through knowing Jesus as their Savior.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want people, myself included, to humble themselves and learn the power of servant leadership in the community, their homes, their jobs, the Church.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li> I want to hear God's voice, feel His promptings everyday and I want to want to be obedient.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want to be with people. I want to eat and laugh and love people. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want to see my three bestest friends in one place at the same time.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want my marriage to continue to grow and flourish. I want to love my Fly better.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>When I buy presents for people this year, I want to buy them things that are meaningful. I want them to know how they are loved.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I want to teach my kids the true meaning of Christmas. I want them to enjoy receiving gifts without guilt but as they grow I want them to understand the yearning they have for more will never be satisfied in this world. Only He fills us. Our souls long for Him, even when we don't realize it.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>And, completely selfishly, not in the least deserving, I want my Disneyland pass renewed. I love that place. It makes me happy. </li>
</ul>
<br />
I'm not sure these things can be packaged...but if there's one guy who is creative enough to try...it's my dad.<br />
<br />
His gift-giving gifting points me to my Heavenly Father's Gift Giving...so creative that the spoken Word became flesh and dwelled among us. He knew exactly what we needed. He knew it when we couldn't articulate it. His gift wrapped in the delicate, velvet skin of a newborn. Oh, to smell the newborn head of God...to place your cheek to His and breathe in. Life. Abundant life. Zoe life. Wrapped in clothes. Lying in a manger.<br />
<br />
Yes, the greatest gift has already been given.<br />
<br />
May the gifts we give be ones that point people to Him.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoie Cheek to Zoe Cheek.</td></tr>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-62219830101591630622012-11-22T09:37:00.000-08:002012-11-22T09:37:49.930-08:00A New Thing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A New Season. Once the seed has been under ground, covered, broken open, rooted and established a crop springs forth. Then it's time for the Harvest.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Forget the former things;</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>do not dwell on the past.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>See I am doing a new thing!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I am making a way in the desert</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>and streams in the wasteland.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Isaiah 43:18-19 </i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
I am a closet clutter queen. Literally, I stuff my closets with my clutter and hope and pray that no one sees it. I give myself the title queen because...well, I can, and because it makes it sound a little less emabarrassing and shameful.<br />
<br />
Embarassing and shameful. Those are words that can cut deep. But truly, this is what I feel when I look at or think about my clutter problem.<br />
<br />
But those doors that had been shut up and had hid my clutter were flung open wide, thankfully not for the world to see, but for my eyes specifically.<br />
<br />
Let me back up. On October 10th I began a Daniel Fast. This is a type of fasting a person does for health or spiritual reasons. It is based on the scriptures in Daniel chapter 1. You eat anything that came from a seed that has not been processed and drink water only. My purposes for the fast were spiritual. As I started out I had an idea in my mind of what my prayers would be directed toward. That quickly changed. I thought other's hearts needed to change. Little did I know my heart would be the most affected.<br />
<br />
On the first night of my fast I had a heated conversation. The person with whom I was speaking made mention of looking in a mirror. These words stung and branded my heart but I believe they were a Holy Catalyst. I held on to them, at first out of hurt, bitterness and anger, but then out of a desperate desire to see what others see.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard , but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does." James 1:23-25</i></span><br />
<br />
I starred at myself. I starred good and hard and long. First I saw the lines. The tiny wrinkles reflecting the experiences and the years. I saw the things I try so hard, every day, to cover up. I looked into my own eyes, the window of my soul, and I saw something ugly.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pride.</span><br />
<br />
Typing it is hard enough. Pushing the "Post" button will be an act of humility but that's exactly what I need.<br />
<br />
Gently, but without relief, the Lord pressed. Pushing me through the fire that would purify and refresh me. And He brought me to His Word. I began to read it with new eyes. Eyes that desperately longed to know the freedom His perfect law gives.<br />
<br />
He showed me things. My pride was seeded in my need to be perfect, to follow all the rules and do my very best to be good enough. For others it can be the opposite, seeded in rebellion, making your own rules.<br /><br />Pride is dangerous. It is a weed that chokes out all that is good. It suffocates and closes off the receptors to what God is doing. Pride says, "I have it under control." It couples itself with idolatry and we become our own gods. After all, if I can be good enough, what do I need God for? <br />
I have learned: I am not good enough, nor, will I ever be. <br />
<br />
And it's okay.<br />
<br />
I am not justified by my closets. I am not justified by being the best...wife, mom, person...The only one who can make me right, the only one who can make this desperate rule follower free is the one who actually did follow all the rules for me...He fulfilled them by following them all the way to the cross. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am not justified by my baking skills...thank you, Jesus!!!</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
As hard as it's been, as the tears have flowed daily, I have slowly felt my heart transform. The anecdote? Humility. Yes, it's obvious, but the daily practices are subtle and easy to miss.<br />
<br />
I have confessed, to God and to others. Confession is so important. Telling someone, out loud, brings it's own freedom. <br />
<br />
I have prayed. I am a pray-er. This is how God meets me and I meet Him. I sit before Him and I listen and a speak and I listen and I speak. <br />
<br />
I devoured His Word. I really did. Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. This has become so real to me. I am so thankful for the revelation.<br />
<br />
I have served. I heard a sermon from our pastor last weekend. He spoke of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. Jesus saw a need. He got down and did what needed to be done. So often, I let things go for others to do. I am now seeing things that need to be done and asking the Lord to give me a servant's heart and do them...nothing magnificent, things like the laundry and the dishes. The things I did before seeking recognition, a merit of "good enough," now doing the things that need to be done with a heart of gratitude for what's been done for me.<br />
<br />
I am not claiming perfection. It would be counter-productive at this point. But I feel a new thing happening in my heart. <br />
<br />
Today I am thankful for that new thing. I am thankful that my God continues to pursue me even when I work for my righteousness or when I give in and rebel. I am thankful He is not done with me. I am thankful that He is always doing a new thing.<br />
<br />
On a day set aside to remember what we are thankful for, I am thankful for all the hard things...all the pain and all the suffering that has revealed my need for a Savior. <br />
<br />
Thank you, God, for taking my mess and making it beautiful. Not because of anything I have done but because of all that You have done.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Thanksgiving. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">May you see the new thing He wants to do in you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And with a heart of gratitude, let Him do it.</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EVyrGggmFL8/UK5fn1D6h0I/AAAAAAAAAck/CuC-mWDfA3o/s1600/IMG_2203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EVyrGggmFL8/UK5fn1D6h0I/AAAAAAAAAck/CuC-mWDfA3o/s640/IMG_2203.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fly and his NEW guitar. New music in our home.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zy3KQEQzxjs/UK5fpTCiwHI/AAAAAAAAAcs/aii2U_xEcoQ/s1600/IMG_2218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zy3KQEQzxjs/UK5fpTCiwHI/AAAAAAAAAcs/aii2U_xEcoQ/s640/IMG_2218.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday celebrations. New Year for new things. Little Man got a NEW hair do too...growing up too fast.</td></tr>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-214301249744696492012-09-20T14:44:00.000-07:002012-09-20T14:53:14.111-07:00Let Us PrayToday I had the wonderful opportunity to speak to a group of women about prayer and praying for their families.<br />
<br />
I informed them from the beginning that I am in no way an expert...just a practitioner.<br />
<br />
It has been an incredible journey as God has taught me the importance and power of prayer. I was blessed to be able to share it today.<br />
<br />
I promised a list of resources. Here are the ones I mentioned and a few more:<br />
<br />
<u><b>Books</b></u><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Circle-Maker-Praying-Greatest/dp/0310333024/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1348177050&sr=8-1&keywords=the+circle+maker" target="_blank">The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Intercessory-Prayer-Prayers-Heaven-Earth/dp/0830745165/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1348177083&sr=1-1&keywords=intercessory+prayer+by+dutch+sheets" target="_blank">Intercessory Prayer by Dutch Sheets</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Praying-Scriptures-Children-Jodie-Berndt/dp/0310232163/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1348177113&sr=1-1&keywords=praying+the+scriptures+for+your+children" target="_blank">Praying the Scriptures for Your Children by Jodie Berndt</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Guide-Fasting-Elmer-Towns/dp/0830746048/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1348177894&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Beginner%27s+guide+to+fasting" target="_blank">The Beginner's Guide to Fasting byElmer L. Towns </a><br />
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<u><b><br />Websites</b></u><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">www.aholyexperience.com</a> by Ann Voskamp author of One Thousand Gifts<br />
Click on the Free Gifts for you Tab for some great resources<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jeniferjernigan.com/" target="_blank">www.jeniferjerigan.com </a> One of the table leaders, a good friend of mine, found a great resource on praying scripture for your family on this site. There are other tools as well.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>Prayer Tools</b></u><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.thefathersbusiness.com/" target="_blank">For the Family by Sylvia Gunter</a> <br />
<br />
<br />
The resources above are wonderful. They answer questions. They inspire. They can help give direction. However, there is nothing more powerful, in my opinion, than praying God's Words. Here are some scriptures that I personally suggest to pray over your loved ones:<br />
<br />
Psalm 91<br />
Ephesians 6:10-18<br />
Colossians 1:9-13<br />
Ephesians 1:15-23<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This not a comprehensive list of all the resources I've ever used. These are the ones that stand out in this season. I would LOVE to hear about what you are reading...even if it doesn't have to do with prayer!<br />
<br />
If you have a resource or a book suggestion please leave it in the comment section!<br />
<br />
I leave you with this today and pray these words for every reader,<br />
<br />
Psalm 20<br />
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<span class="text Ps-20-1">May the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> answer you when you are in distress;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-1">may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-2" id="en-NIV-14185"><sup class="versenum">2 </sup>May he send you help from the sanctuary</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-2">and grant you support from Zion.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-3" id="en-NIV-14186"><sup class="versenum">3 </sup>May he remember all your sacrifices</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-3">and accept your burnt offerings.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-4" id="en-NIV-14187"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>May he give you the desire of your heart</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-4">and make all your plans succeed.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-5" id="en-NIV-14188"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>May we shout for joy over your victory</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-5">and lift up our banners in the name of our God.</span></span><br />
<div class="poetry top-05">
<div class="line">
<span class="text Ps-20-5">May the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> grant all your requests.</span></div>
</div>
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<div class="line">
<span class="text Ps-20-6" id="en-NIV-14189"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>Now this I know:</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-6">The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> gives victory to his anointed.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-6">He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-6">with the victorious power of his right hand.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-7" id="en-NIV-14190"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>Some trust in chariots and some in horses,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-7">but we trust in the name of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> our God.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-8" id="en-NIV-14191"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>They are brought to their knees and fall,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-8">but we rise up and stand firm.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-20-9" id="en-NIV-14192"><sup class="versenum">9 </sup><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, give victory to the king!</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-20-9">Answer us when we call!</span></span></div>
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-8455438644002243112012-09-11T10:31:00.000-07:002012-09-11T10:31:56.960-07:00I RememberIt is with a heavy heart that America greets today. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We remember. We will never forget. </b></span><br />
<br />
We have said those words for 11 years now.<br />
<br />
I was in my college apartment sleeping under my Urban Outfitters bedspread. My phone rang. The Fly asked me if I had seen the news. I didn't have class until 11...of course, I hadn't seen the news. Groggy from late nights, papers, friends, work, fun, college-life, I laid my head back down.<br />
<br />
I couldn't fall back asleep. I didn't understand the depravity that had occurred. I had hardly understood the words coming out of the phone. I got up and walked into the other room to turn on the TV.<br />
<br />
Then I saw...over and over as they replayed what had happened.<br />
<br />
Shock and disbelief. Then the fear. Where was my dad? Flying from coast to coast and home on the weekends, this was his life. <br />
<br />
Relief rushed through me as I heard his voice. He had been at LAX when it happened. He was coming home.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>He was coming home.</b></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2,996 others did not go home that day.</span></b><br />
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Today we remember them. With flags and banners, names read aloud, memories and stories told of those who suffered the consequences of another's evil plot.<br />
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As a nation we wonder. We cry. We form strong opinions. We argue. We plan. We protect. We do whatever we can to cope with the reality that evil and wickedness are very real.<br />
<br />
We ask questions. We blame God. We defend God. <br />
<br />
We don't want to admit it but we are still afraid. We fear what might happen. What's next?<br />
<br />
These things well up in us today. And, as we remember the past, we remember that our future is ahead of us. Our near future holds some critical moments that will determine the direction of our country in the next 4 years. Today our remembering not only brings the emotions of the past but it also causes the emotions surrounding the next 56 days.<br />
<br />
This week's rhetoric will be charged with emotion of the whys and why-nots and how-to's and how-not-to's of our decision making.<br />
<br />
So what do we do?<br />
<br />
<div class="left-1 child-first-line-1 top-05">
<span class="text 2Chr-7-14" id="en-NIV-11339"><sup class="versenum"> </sup><i>if my people, who are called by my name, will <b><span style="font-size: large;">humble </span>themselves and <span style="font-size: large;">pray</span></b> and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.</i></span></div>
<br />
2 Chronicles 7:14<br />
<br />
<br />
It's been impressed on my heart to <span style="font-size: large;">pray</span> the Psalms for <span style="font-size: large;"><b>both</b></span> presidential candidates, the American people, and the election itself. <br />
<br />
Today was the 11th day I've done this. I opened my Bible to Psalm 11. I read this:<br />
<br />
Vs 6 and 7,<br />
<br />
<i>Upon the wicked He will rain coals;</i><br />
<i>Fire and brimstone and a burning wind</i><br />
<i>Shall be the portion of their cup.</i><br />
<i>For the Lord is righteous.</i><br />
<i>He loves righteousness;</i><br />
<i>His countenance beholds the upright.</i><br />
<br />
Fire and Brimstone have a bad rap, rightfully so. But as I read this today I felt a unity with my fellow Americans, those that think the same and those that think differently. <br />
<br />
Wherever our opinions place us in the war of politics, today we can come together and remember. Remember that our God does not look at what happened 11 years ago and sit passively by. He too hates wickedness and evil. His plan is for redemption.<br />
<br />
As you remember today, I humbly ask you, set down your opinions, set down your agendas and if you are the praying type, humble yourself before God. Ask him to direct your prayers. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>And pray.</b></span> <br />
<br />
Pray for those that are still with us today, hurting from those evil actions of others. <br />
<br />
Pray for your fellow Americans; pray they experience peace today. <br />
<br />
Pray for President Obama and Vice-President Joe Biden. Ask God to give them wisdom and direction. <br />
<br />
Pray for Republican Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney and Vice Presidential Candidate Paul Ryan. Ask God to give them wisdom and direction. <br />
<br />
<br />
A final note...<br />
<br />
As I was researching a few facts for this post I came upon this headline...<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Mitt Romney, Barack Obama campaigns avoid negative politics on 9/11 anniversary</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
Proud to be an American. <br />
<br />
God Bless America.<br />
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Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-31730200249167221092012-09-04T15:23:00.002-07:002012-09-04T15:45:15.621-07:00In the Morning<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day. I have a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way." -- Oklahoma!</i></span><br />
<br />
Nothing like a little musical theater throw-back and good sunrise picture to inspire your day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/419329_4458027329236_1166247950_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/419329_4458027329236_1166247950_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fly took this picture of the sunrise this morning. It was breath-taking. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="text Ps-5-3" id="en-NIV-13977"> </span><br />
<br />
<b><span class="text Ps-5-3" id="en-NIV-13977">I</span><span class="text Ps-5-3" id="en-NIV-13977">n the morning, <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, you hear my voice;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-5-3">in the morning I lay my requests before you</span></span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-5-3">and wait expectantly.</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-5-3"><b>Psalm 5:3 </b></span></span><br />
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<br />
Why? Why is it so hard sometimes to open this? Why does the extra long to do list suddenly appear in my mind as I reach to pick up the life-giving words? Why does my phone end up right in front of me and robotically I tap the screen to lead me to time-wasting and minute-filling? The news feed entertains me and even encourages me at times but it does not feed my soul.<br />
<br />
I see the Fly carry his up the stairs and my eyes fall back upon my own. I put the phone down with all the self-control I can muster. It really is emabarrassing, the hold that little piece of technology has on me.<br />
<br />
I open up the book that will curb my hunger and sustain me for the day.<br />
<br />
Psalm 5. I've been reading one a day. Sitting in it and soaking it in as the words effervesce, issue forth bubbles, of Life.<br />
<br />
I come upon these rich words:<br />
<br />
Verse 7, "But as for me, I will come into Your house in the multitude of Your mercy;"<br />
<br />
They strike a deep chord.<br />
<br />
I read the New King James version...not because I think it's the best but because it sounds the most like Shakespeare. Laugh, roll your eyes, or try it yourself.<br />
<br />
The words in verse 7 hang on. I feel my heart clinging to them.<br />
<br />
The truth is I NEED a multitude of mercy. It is the only way I can survive.<br />
<br />
I want to be a good person, a good wife, a good mom. Good. Good. Good. I try so hard to be good. And everyday, EVERYDAY, I fail myself and those I love. And, the worst part of it all is that I beat myself for it. I hang my head low and walk in the guilt and the shame more often than I stand in the grace and the multitude of mercy.<br />
<br />
I cry. Okay, so I cry often. But this morning I cry because I know better. I know the grace. I know the mercy that my God offers me. I know it is worse to not receive it. I know it is in vain that I ignore His gentle nudges.<br />
<br />
Forgive me. Forgive me for being swept away in my self. I carry the burden of "not-good-enough" because I constantly try to do it all...all by myself. <br />
<br />
It's kind of like idolatry. Ouch. But it is. If I put all my faith in myself then what do I need Him for?<br />
<br />
For His multitude of mercy. I will never be good enough. And, I'm so thankful I don't have to be.<br />
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<i>If you have time to read more today follow this link to more inspiration...</i><br />
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<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" /></a>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-54446969315885093062012-08-09T22:43:00.001-07:002012-08-09T22:43:08.880-07:00One YearToday is my "Blog-i-versary." <br />
<br />
Well, technically July 29th was my first entry but it doesn't really count. I was just trying to see what it would all look like and make sure it was pretty.<br />
<br />
It was a year ago today that I wrote<b>, <a href="http://www.allisonschrader.blogspot.com/2011/08/lesson-from-amy.html" target="_blank">"A Lesson from Amy..."</a></b> and poured my sleep deprived thoughts out through the keypad on to the computer screen.<br />
<br />
It was a few days before when I sat down with a dear friend in her backyard. Her daughters took the Bug swimming while Little Man slept in his seat and we chatted under an umbrella by the pool.<br />
<br />
She told me she had been praying for me and that I should start writing. It was confirmation. I had been praying, and in the quiet, was feeling a supernatural urge to do something I never thought I was very good at. And since I never fancied myself, "a writer," I figured that perhaps this really was the Holy Spirit urging me forward to do something that certainly intimidated me.<br />
<br />
A few nights later, with this chorus in my head, I began to spill out the brokenness, that was more than just exhaustion from a baby who didn't sleep. I had been tired for many years before my babies came. I just didn't understand why.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>We pour out our miseries<br />
God just hears a melody<br />
Beautiful, the mess we are<br />
The honest cries of breaking hearts<br />
Are better than a Hallelujah</i></span><br />
<br />
I find it amusing that I had already titled my blog, <b>A Beautiful Mess</b>, and those words happen to be right there in the middle of that chorus. Providence maybe.<br />
<br />
So there I was, tired. And, little did I know that it was only the beginning. <br />
<br />
Day by day, week by week and month by month I became a little more sleep deprived, a little more broken, and a little more moldable. My desperation brought me to a place of dependence. I had a choice to depend on Him or depend on me. And frankly, depending on me would soon raise flags for CPS. <br />
<br />
Then one night in February the flood gates broke open...the good kind of flood gates. I began to see a purpose, I began to sense the magnificent, unmistakeable power of the Holy Spirit and I began to pray. I began to believe again that God hears my prayers and is faithful to answer them.<br />
<br />
The nights became a rendezvous with my Little Man and my Comforter, my Healer, my Protector, my Strength, my Shield, my Refuge. There I sat in the Big Blue Chair guarded by the shadow of His Wings. I cried out...but now, not just for myself, but for those that burdened my heart and the day time brought glimpses of those cries being heard.<br />
<br />
The year came full circle. As Little Man's 1st Birthday approached I sensed sleep was near. Within two weeks after his birthday we were all sleeping through the night.<br />
<br />
I have now slept through the night for approximately 7 and 1/2 weeks. New. Person. I. am.<br />
<br />
But can I tell you something? I wouldn't trade those sleepless nights for anything.<br />
<br />
God changed me. My heart is willing. I want to know my Jesus more than I ever have before.<br />
<br />
Those nights saved me. They saved me from a life of mediocrity. They made me desperate, desperate to seek him and find him and respond to His love anywhere and anytime.<br />
<br />
Now I look for moments, in laundry, dishes, walks to the park and everyday conversations when Holy meets ordinary and Heaven crashes in. I am slowly learning the art of living. <br />
<br />
Writing down has caused me to hold on to the details, the small things that make it decadent. I'm thankful.<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading my words this year. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vI4SnnMd06A/UCSRlfeZQRI/AAAAAAAAAbc/ENZmg10AQDk/s1600/DSC00105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="404" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vI4SnnMd06A/UCSRlfeZQRI/AAAAAAAAAbc/ENZmg10AQDk/s640/DSC00105.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug's First Official Day of Preschool. She loves her brother.</td></tr>
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-7550242615571748322012-08-07T21:37:00.000-07:002012-08-07T21:59:47.409-07:00The Bug's Not-So-Normal, A Little Unusual, Very First Day of Preschool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
The Bug woke up early Saturday morning. "I'm going to school on Tuesday!" she shouted with a grin.<br />
<br />
The Bug had been excited for days about preschool and Tuesday was even closer today than it was yesterday.<br />
<br />
"That's right," her mommy said. "And today, we get to go get a 'First Day of School Outfit!'"<br />
<br />
The Bug jumped up and down. She could hardly contain all the excitement. She could even feel it on in her belly! It was like 100 little butterflies took off in flight all at the same time. She couldn't wait to set out on their shopping trip.<br />
<br />
Mommy and Daddy, The Bug and the Little Man, her baby brother, loaded into the car and headed for the mall. The Bug looked out the window and imagined what colors she would wear and the new friends she would make in their first day of school outfits.<br />
<br />
The whole gang went to a few stores looking for the perfect outfit and finally found the one. Purple was The Bug's favorite color that day so she and her mommy decided that a shirt and skirt with purple leggings would be the best.<br />
<br />
As they headed home The Bug held her bag on her lap. She was so proud of her first "First Day of School Outfit" and couldn't wait to put it on and head to school. Thinking about it made those butterflies fly off again.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Monday morning came fast. It was the day before school would start. But that morning, instead of butterflies, The Bug felt something very different in her tummy. It was not a good kind of different. She hurried downstairs to tell her mommy that she did not feel good...at all.<br />
<br />
The day went on and The Bug, Mommy and Daddy and even the Little Man hoped and prayed that she would feel better but nothing seemed to help.<br />
<br />
That night Mommy told The Bug, "I think we are going to have to have our first day of school on Thursday instead of Tuesday. But don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy will make tomorrow a special day. Just get some rest and try to feel better."<br />
<br />
They did the "silly count," (this was a silly part of their bedtime routine,) they sang their song and they prayed for God to heal The Bug's tummy. Then off to sleep she went.<br />
<br />
The next morning was Tuesday, the day that should have been the first day of school. The Bug woke and waited a moment before getting out of bed. Her tummy was feeling better! Maybe she could still put on her purple leggings and make it to school! Her daddy brought her downstairs and she told her mommy that she felt better. But Mommy and Daddy decided it was best that she wait a few more days just to make sure.<br />
<br />
The Bug was so disappointed but Mommy reminded her that she had a special day planned for them. The Bug ate a little breakfast, not much, since her tummy was all troubles the day before, but just enough to be ready for whatever Mommy had planned.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Mommy said, "Okay. First thing is first. Today you may not get to go your first day of preschool but that doesn't mean we can't have a first day of preschool right here! Let's go upstairs and you can pick out your outfit. You can wear anything you want!"<br />
<br />
The Bug ran upstairs. She loved picking out her own outfits. After a few minutes of decision-making she decided on a light blue Cinderella shirt with a hot pink polka dot skirt, two different socks, her light up shoes, and two different bows to accent her pig tails.<br />
<br />
Once she was dressed Mommy got out the camera to take The Bug's first "First Day of School" picture. The Bug posed in her outfit ready for the fun to begin.<br />
<br />
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Mommy told her to gather some of her animals and dolls to be her friends in her class. The Bug gathered as many as she could and set them on the couch.<br />
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"Alright," said Mommy. "Let's start with some music!" The Bug, Mommy and the Little Man begin to dance and sing to the music Mommy put on. Some of the animals and doll friends joined in the fun with the help of Mommy and even Little Man.<br />
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<br />
After the singing Mommy said it was story time. The Bug picked out a story about Jesus' first miracle. The Bug didn't know what a miracle was. Mommy told her and they read the story together.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
After story time it was time to color. Mommy asked The Bug, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"<br />
<br />
The Bug had been asked that question before and she knew the answer right away.<br />
<br />
"A Doctor Mommy," she said proudly.<br />
<br />
"Great!" said Mommy. "Why don't you draw a picture of what that look's like and Mommy will make it look special when you are done."<br />
<br />
The Bug went to work. Using her crayons she drew her very best "Doctor Mommy." Her Mommy typed some words out on the computer and put the drawing through her printer.<br />
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<br />
"There." Mommy said. "Now we can keep it forever!"<br />
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<br />
<br />
By this time Little Man was getting sleepy. Mommy let the Bug color some more while she went to put him down for a nap. The Bug decided to draw a picture of her little brother. She loved him very much.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
When Mommy was done. They went downstairs to make a snack. Mommy called it "Critters on a banana."<br />
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<br />
After snack time Mommy said they could do an art project with paint! The Bug loved to paint almost as much as she loved to dance.<br />
<br />
Before Mommy got out the paint she opened her Bible and read Psalm 139:14 to The Bug.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Mommy helped her begin to learn it as she set up the paint.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Together they made The Bug's hand prints and then Mommy told her that God made her wonderful just the way she is. Mommy asked her if together they could think of 10 wonderful things about her, one for each finger God gave her.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
The Bug loved the art project and when they were done Mommy let her paint some more.<br />
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<br />
Soon it was time to clean up and head downstairs. Little Man woke up from his nap and mommy had one more thing for them to do.<br />
<br />
When they got downstairs Mommy turned the music on real loud.<br />
<br />
"Dance party!" she shouted.<br />
<br />
The Bug was so excited. She loved dance parties. Together The Bug, Mommy and The Little Man danced and laughed and were super silly to the music.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
When the dancing stopped The Bug looked at mommy and said, "I'm hungry."<br />
<br />
Mommy was so excited to hear The Bug say that since she hadn't been hungry for a while.<br />
<br />
"It looks like God is answering our prayers and you are getting better! Should we go and drive through Chick-fil-a?!"<br />
<br />
"Yeah!!" The Bug hollered. Chick-fil-a was her favorite.<br />
<br />
As they drove down the street The Bug looked out her window.<br />
<br />
"Mommy," she said, "I love you."<br />
<br />
"I love you too, Bug," Mommy answered.<br />
<br />
Even though the morning didn't go the way either of them thought it would they both knew that they wouldn't want it any different. After all, this meant The Bug got two, very first, "First" days of preschool. <br />
<br />
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-35531489464761974232012-06-22T15:27:00.000-07:002012-07-09T09:26:58.546-07:00Forgiving Again<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6y_FsSH86Ns/T-TwHOe3BmI/AAAAAAAAAXM/Wbo7GUTwJ9g/s1600/IMG_1462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6y_FsSH86Ns/T-TwHOe3BmI/AAAAAAAAAXM/Wbo7GUTwJ9g/s640/IMG_1462.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She found the nail polish while I was putting Little Man down for a nap. She miraculously didn't get it on anything but herself. I forgave her and then painted her nails for her:).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
"Excuse me. Could you spare a couple dollars for the bus?"<br />
<br />
Through the window I shook my head. Sympathetically, I rolled down my window a crack to speak words.<br />
<br />
"I don't have any cash on me," I lied through a stutter.<br />
<br />
He startled me. I saw him walk behind my car as I was ordering my avocado chicken burrito and a quesadilla for the kids. I saw him walk behind the giant menu. I'm quite vigilant these days. <br />
<br />
I rolled my window up right away after I ordered, after noticing him, hoping my crazy thoughts would not play out. My heart was racing. My mind was spinning out of control.<br />
<br />
Ever since the<a href="http://allisonschrader.blogspot.com/2011/09/glad-game.html" target="_blank"> <b>gunpoint incident</b></a> this happens a lot.<br />
<br />
I imagine the worst. In split seconds I see scenes of horror and destruction played out. My adrenaline pumps and my fight or flight is ready to react.<br />
<br />
Then he approached and simply asked. He looked so defeated. <br />
<br />
Immediately after I lied the guilt sank in. Why? Why did I lie? <br />
<br />
As I sat waiting for my order, I quietly processed.<br />
<br />
Then, the anger began to rise. The young man. I was reminded again that the young man with the gun who stole my wedding ring stole so much more from me.<br />
<br />
I prayed.<br />
<br />
What do I do now, Lord?<br />
<br />
I confessed and decided that if I did see him again and it appeared safe I would roll my window down and apologize for speaking so rudely.<br />
<br />
He was not there.<br />
<br />
What do I do <i>now, </i>Lord?<br />
<br />
<i>"Write about it."</i><br />
<br />
So, here I am, writing and wondering when I will ever be able to trust people again. I don't mean that every time someone asks for money I should give it to them but when will I be able to seek sound discernment rather than be paralyzed by fear.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Forgiveness.</b><br />
<br />
It always comes back to this. I read something today in a book of blessings and it reminded me that forgiveness brings healing. It also said,<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<b>"Your soul may justify your resentment for a the terrible thing. You may even feel that you have a right to hold a grudge, or that the person does not deserve to be forgiven. But God is very clear. He commands you to forgive from the heart, and in forgiving from the heart, not just with your will, you will receive healing for your soul. I bless you to forgive others to the point that you actually feel yourself cleansed of resentment and bitterness, allowing the cleansing and healing to flow to your soul until you can pray for them and bless them." </b><i>-- Silvia Gunter, You Are Blessed In the Names of God</i><br />
<br />
We have all been hurt by many people. We have all done the hurting. If we all do the forgiving we can all move toward healing. It really is simple. And, sometimes it really is hard.<br />
<br />
I prayed for the young man again today. I prayed for his life. I prayed for his children. (I don't know if he has any but I did anyway.) I forgave him again.<br />
<br />
That's the thing with forgiveness sometimes. We can say we forgive. We can even will ourselves to forgive but it's in those unpredictable moments that our hearts are tested when we know if it was for real.<br />
<br />
I think today it was for me. I know my adrenaline might betray me again but when a blessing replaces my anger that's when I will know I've truly been healed.<br />
<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-67377914018575408682012-06-19T21:58:00.000-07:002012-06-20T07:37:56.650-07:00Celebrate Good TimesThe last two months have been blissful in a sense. My babies are another year older. Mommy and Daddy were celebrated on their own respective days. Good friends, best friends, in from out of town, have sat at my table again.<br />
<br />
As I type these sentences I can't help but think of people I love who have not had a blissful two months. Death, loss, and desperate want are looming over them and new normals are being sought out. As I reflect on my happiness I can't help but feel a prick in my heart for each of them. I'm a feeler and the burden weighs heavy.<br />
<br />
Though it may sound insensitive, these people and each of their plights, cause me to want to celebrate more. The truth is that celebrating can be healing.<br />
<br />
Food.<br />
<br />
Presents.<br />
<br />
More Food. These are good things.<br />
<br />
But it is the people, the friends, the family. It is the people who usher in the healing.<br />
<br />
Being an extrovert I thrive on gatherings...the larger the better in my book. Regardless, though, if you are extroverted or introverted we were created to need people. We were created to pour in and to drink from the relationships bestowed on us.<br />
<br />
The last two months have been a fountain of life bubbling over in regard to "my people".<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Bug's 3rd birthday.</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/481324_10150911364291593_503626548_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/481324_10150911364291593_503626548_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a Strawberry Shortcake Party</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/575716_10150911364101593_215360288_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/575716_10150911364101593_215360288_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little Shortcake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540630_10150911364701593_290209013_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540630_10150911364701593_290209013_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opening presents.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/269355_10150911364881593_549015409_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/269355_10150911364881593_549015409_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good friends. Just wait 'til they really drive.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/534402_10150911365011593_226856400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/534402_10150911365011593_226856400_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug and her favorite person. She calls him her "Daddy Buddy." (I'm not jealous...it thrills me that daddy is her favorite:))</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/428489_10150911365226593_998775480_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/428489_10150911365226593_998775480_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday Big Sister!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Mother's Day.</span></b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/401880_10150911365291593_1756528898_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/401880_10150911365291593_1756528898_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First camping trip with the cousins. Eating watermelon without a care. Memories.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/205321_10150911365841593_1203368194_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/205321_10150911365841593_1203368194_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Auntie Carica" or Auntie Erica teaching the girls how to take a jumping picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/421452_10150911366011593_756361956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/421452_10150911366011593_756361956_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She is an awesome mommy and an awesome auntie. Love her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Little Man's 1st Birthday.</span></b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/552887_10150911366176593_834299631_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/552887_10150911366176593_834299631_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's root beer. It's funny.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/556467_10150911367181593_1663994585_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/556467_10150911367181593_1663994585_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a Mustache Bash.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/165881_10150911367351593_520426140_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/165881_10150911367351593_520426140_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He did not enjoy the cupcake:).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/556093_10150911366911593_525901946_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/556093_10150911366911593_525901946_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Man with a 'stache.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/282649_10150911366361593_983350752_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/282649_10150911366361593_983350752_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stick the mustache on your parent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/599446_10150911367091593_1012471656_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/599446_10150911367091593_1012471656_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good friends.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/542432_10150911367461593_756077335_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/542432_10150911367461593_756077335_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends eating cake. Such fun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/389697_10150911367586593_1641625444_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/389697_10150911367586593_1641625444_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful sister, Auntie Lyndsey, and her boyfriend, Mr. Miles. They are wrapped around the babies' fingers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/250707_10150911367961593_2067876654_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/250707_10150911367961593_2067876654_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auntie Robynn and Baby Penelopi. One of my "bestest" friends and her beautiful girl...Little Man's "betrothed."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/319717_10150911368436593_868728214_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/319717_10150911368436593_868728214_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monique and her girls and nephew. One of those steadfast friendships. We've done life together for a while. Appreciate her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/601139_10150911368501593_333061862_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/601139_10150911368501593_333061862_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justin and Christy. Good friends and always a good time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/401952_10150911368146593_75622962_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/401952_10150911368146593_75622962_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Other Schrader's minus the oldest daughter...she must have been busy helping. So thankful for each of them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/246422_10150911368996593_1738650025_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/246422_10150911368996593_1738650025_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nana and Rick. They love our babies and bring out the giggles every time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/527812_10150911368811593_347360910_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/527812_10150911368811593_347360910_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's my mommy holding my baby. She is the best mama...the type that still runs right to me when I'm crying and brings me Lipton's Chicken Noodle Soup when I'm sick. Oh, how I love her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/577727_10150911369271593_1554218887_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/577727_10150911369271593_1554218887_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bug...so silly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/542380_10150911368881593_337693075_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/542380_10150911368881593_337693075_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family. Tears. So thankful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Father's Day.</span></b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/527861_10150907407261593_1330924614_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/527861_10150907407261593_1330924614_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peanut Butter Cup s'mores...excellent. Panning for gold...so fun. Shooting bb guns with a One Year Old...only my Fly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/552902_4062096351209_1999699677_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/552902_4062096351209_1999699677_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Precious daddy time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/551822_10150911369346593_73018212_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/551822_10150911369346593_73018212_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Ron and Little Man. Mr. Ron held Little Man all evening...and fed him A LOT of chicken:).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/224946_10150911369446593_1707998539_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/224946_10150911369446593_1707998539_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Ron and Miss Viv. The Fly's business partner and dear friends. Grateful for them in our lives.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/481280_10150911369541593_156691022_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/481280_10150911369541593_156691022_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Christian and his big girl. Neighbors and great friends.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/181818_10150911369681593_669366015_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/181818_10150911369681593_669366015_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Man's Big Buddy...they are gonna get into some trouble soon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/182350_10150911369886593_1825415782_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/182350_10150911369886593_1825415782_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These two are already trouble.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The people you see in these photos and many others who couldn't join us in person or may have been a little camera shy:), are the reason I can celebrate and they are reason I can mourn. They are the reason I can laugh and they are the reason I can cry.<br />
<br />
I do life with these people.<br />
<br />
Many of them know of my shortcomings. Many of them know of my fears. Many of them know of my bad habits. A few of them know the things I don't want anyone to ever know. Yet...they love me.<br />
<br />
When I say love, I don't mean they just say it, I mean they show me...in so many ways. The best part is that they don't only love me they love the people I love the most.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/185134_10150911366816593_1834897512_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/185134_10150911366816593_1834897512_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I could bottle this moment up and keep it forever, I just might. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We need people. We need each other to not just get through life but to celebrate life even when it's hard to find something to celebrate.<br />
<br />
Who are your people? I found mine as I found Jesus. Really. I did.<br />
<br />
If you are reading this today, I pray for you, "Lord, as they are seeking whatever it is they are seeking would they find you first, then would you give them people...the kind of people that love like you do."<br />
<br />
If you do have "people," thank God for them today. Sometimes it's through our earthly relationships that we get the greatest glimpse of heaven.<br />
<br />
I was searching for a verse to close out this post and I couldn't help but use Romans 16.<br />
<br />
These are Paul's "people." Just as the book of Hebrews has it's own walk of fame of the heroes of faith, I couldn't help but see this list as a walk of fame for the friendship...good friends who do life with you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Romans 16: 1-16 <br />
<div class="chapter-2">
<span class="text Rom-16-1"><span class="chapternum"></span><i>I commend to you <b>our sister Phoebe,</b> a deacon<sup> </sup>of the church in Cenchreae.</i></span><i><span class="text Rom-16-2" id="en-NIV-28339"><sup class="versenum">2 </sup>I ask you to <b>receive her</b> in the Lord in a way worthy of his people and to give her any help she may need from you, <b>for she has been the benefactor of many people, including me.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-3" id="en-NIV-28340"><sup class="versenum">3 </sup>Greet <b>Priscilla</b> and <b>Aquila</b>,<sup> </sup>my co-workers in Christ Jesus.</span> <span class="text Rom-16-4" id="en-NIV-28341"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup><b>They risked their lives for me</b>. Not only I but all the churches of the Gentiles are grateful to them.</span></i></div>
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<span class="text Rom-16-5" id="en-NIV-28342"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>Greet also <i><b>the church that meets at their house.</b></i></span></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-5">Greet my dear friend <b>Epenetus</b>, who was the<b> first convert</b><sup> </sup>to Christ in the province of Asia.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-6" id="en-NIV-28343"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>Greet <b>Mary</b>, who <b>worked very hard for you.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-7" id="en-NIV-28344"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>Greet <b>Andronicus</b> and <b>Junia</b>, my fellow Jews <b>who have been in prison with me</b>.<sup> </sup>They are outstanding among the apostles, and they were in Christ<sup> </sup>before I was.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-8" id="en-NIV-28345"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>Greet <b>Ampliatus</b>, my <b>dear friend</b> in the Lord.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-9" id="en-NIV-28346"><sup class="versenum">9 </sup>Greet <b>Urbanus</b>, our <b>co-worker</b> in Christ, and my <b>dear friend Stachys</b>.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-10" id="en-NIV-28347"><sup class="versenum">10 </sup>Greet <b>Apelles,</b> whose fidelity to Christ has <b>stood the test.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-10">Greet those who belong to the<b> household<sup> </sup>of Aristobulus.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-11" id="en-NIV-28348"><sup class="versenum">11 </sup>Greet <b>Herodion</b>, my fellow Jew.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-11">Greet those in the<b> household of Narcissus</b> who are in the Lord.</span></i></div>
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<span class="text Rom-16-12" id="en-NIV-28349"><sup class="versenum">12 </sup><i>Greet <b>Tryphena</b> and <b>Tryphosa,</b> those <b>women who work hard</b> in the Lord.</i></span></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-12">Greet my <b>dear friend Persis</b>, <b>another woman who has worked very hard in the Lord.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-13" id="en-NIV-28350"><sup class="versenum">13 </sup>Greet <b>Rufus</b>,<sup> </sup>chosen in the Lord, and <b>his mother, who has been a mother to me, too.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-14" id="en-NIV-28351"><sup class="versenum">14 </sup>Greet <b>Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas and the other brothers and sisters with them.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-15" id="en-NIV-28352"><sup class="versenum">15 </sup>Greet <b>Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas</b> and all the Lord’s people<sup> </sup>who are with them.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Rom-16-16" id="en-NIV-28353"><sup class="versenum">16 </sup>Greet one another with a holy kiss.</span></i></div>
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Holy Kisses for my people today. I love you dearly and can't imagine life without you. </div>
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More of my people that were not pictured above and some who were:<br />
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<b>*Warning...there are many pictures to follow...I won't be offended if you stop reading here...I just couldn't stop!*</b> </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/598956_10150911358676593_1150516033_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/598956_10150911358676593_1150516033_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my friend Sue. She has prayed for me and my babies. She made each of them special blankets that I treasure. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/577640_10150911358866593_1456336337_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/577640_10150911358866593_1456336337_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was almost 8 years ago. Amanda is someone who God used to change my life. She also captures beautiful moments in her pictures. I spent a season meeting with Jessi as we talked about life. I love her and am so thankful for her friendship. Her family has also loved on my greatly. I had the privilege of watching Heidi grow and get married and have a baby. She is so dear to my heart. Her family has been a family to me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/185093_10150911359301593_1602607518_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/185093_10150911359301593_1602607518_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This man baptized me and married me and the Fly. He and his wife loved on me as I began to figure out my faith. They were Fly's "people" before they were my "people." They welcomed me into their "family." Forever grateful. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/538565_10150911359411593_221545833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/538565_10150911359411593_221545833_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These ladies prayed for me. There will never be enough words to say how thankful I am for them and that season. They taught me the power in prayer and that has changed my life.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/303570_10150911359521593_1046640210_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/303570_10150911359521593_1046640210_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This man changed my life. He asked me to do something I never thought I could do. He taught me to take risks, to be bold and that God is good. I am a better person for having the privilege of knowing and working for him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/283678_10150911360071593_1093087086_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/283678_10150911360071593_1093087086_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These neighbors and the ones not pictured are an answer to prayer. My family has community, "people," right outside our front door. Blessed.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/251957_10150911360351593_795678203_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/251957_10150911360351593_795678203_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my best friend, Jamie and her daddy. Jamie has been my best friend since we were 8. She is strong. She is kind. She has wisdom beyond her years. She can say things to me that I won't hear from anyone else. Her daddy was like another daddy to me. He passed away April 16th after fighting cancer. Don't be sad for him, he is with Jesus. We are sad, though. Sometimes we don't understand why things happen the way they do. What we do understand is that God is still good. Jamie is living this out day by day and teaching me through her steadfast faith.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/282893_10150911360411593_1227624038_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/282893_10150911360411593_1227624038_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lana is one of those people you can just sit right down with and pick up where you left off even if you haven't seen her in years. She is creative and lovely. Tammy is another of my best friends. She laughs at everything I say. Sometimes this leads me to thinking I'm funnier that I really am but I still appreciate her chuckles every time. Shelley was actually my youth pastor in high school. She looks like she must have been a 10 year old youth pastor:). That's because she is youthful and fun. She is an incredible mother and wife. So thankful for these ladies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/538532_10150911360546593_504584474_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/538532_10150911360546593_504584474_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Auntie Erin and Uncle Nick, The Fly's older sister and husband. They live far away and we miss them, a lot. They have huge hearts and I love them.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/229969_10150911360671593_1419009770_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/229969_10150911360671593_1419009770_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my Poppy. He just passed away in March. We celebrated his life on what would have been his birthday. He was a good man. He is now playing bluegrass music in heaven and laughing.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/229873_10150911360791593_1278596249_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/229873_10150911360791593_1278596249_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my mom-mom...my mom's mom. She is a strong and wonderful woman. She loves her family.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/600232_10150911360966593_1851169141_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/600232_10150911360966593_1851169141_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Lauren. I've watched her grown into an amazing young woman who is doing great things for the Kingdom of God. She also represents so many students that I love. They changed me for the better. Thank you.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/599084_10150911361076593_857310234_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/599084_10150911361076593_857310234_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are my siblings. Sistair and Brothair. I love them. As the oldest I mother them too much but it's only because I want the best for them. They are beautiful people and they make me laugh.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/425669_10150693144144905_1649936597_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/425669_10150693144144905_1649936597_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sistair, Lyndsey, with my kids. I can't even tell you all the things I love about her. But here are a few: She is hilarious. She is loyal. She is honest. She is beautiful.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/575900_10150911361171593_95824302_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/575900_10150911361171593_95824302_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my daddy. He avoided the camera at the birthday parties so I had to throw this pic in. It captures him. He is so generous and so fun and loves me and my family so much. He is proud of me and I am so thankful he tells me so.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/521446_10150911361266593_867727864_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/521446_10150911361266593_867727864_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Nana and Papa. The Fly's grandparents. They love us and pray for us. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/543383_10150911361421593_1665251717_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/543383_10150911361421593_1665251717_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The one and only Jessica Bernard. She was one of my college roommates and is a dear friend. She is extremely beautiful and extremely talented. She loves people well. She also channels Mary Poppins.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/484292_10150911361536593_255679320_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/484292_10150911361536593_255679320_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my "birthing hat" for The Bug...no, I did not actually wear it...although, now, I wish I had. Lovely ladies already mentioned, Tammy, Lyndsey, Jessica but let me tell you about Robynn, bottom right, a heart that loves people no matter what. She bends over backwards for strangers. And "pretty" Shannon, middle top, best friend at St. Lucy's. I've always admired her and am so thankful for her in my life. Though there are seasons we go without getting time to chat we just pick right up where we left off. These women make me belly laugh. I love them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/208960_10150911361826593_1574693428_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/208960_10150911361826593_1574693428_n.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reigh Lea is Monique's twin sister (She was mentioned in the birthday party sequence.) Another beautiful person I have had the privilege of doing life with. She always seems to call or text at the right time and has a heart to help people. Thankful to call her and her sister friends. Thankful to learn from them and raise babies together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/562065_10150911361936593_1301736229_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/562065_10150911361936593_1301736229_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JD and Jaci. This is their wedding and The Bug's first big night out. JD is the Fly's best friend. They've been there for each other through much. Although we don't get to see them everyday any more we are so thankful for them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/579953_10150911362066593_1843231654_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/579953_10150911362066593_1843231654_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Scott. He is holding The Bug. He loves babies and will be an awesome daddy one day. He is a youth pastor. He loves God and he loves kids. I admire his passion and his vulnerability. He lets God use him. Read his blog: <a href="http://thechristiannerd.com/">http://thechristiannerd.com/</a></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/552870_10150911362161593_1810312419_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="428" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Meredith. I love this picture because it captures her. She is fun. And she is so much more. She is intelligent and she is compassionate. She cares about the forgotten. She is strong and she is beautiful. She loves God with a depth that comes from knowing his presence in her highest highs and her lowest lows. Her hubby is wonderful too! Read her blog: <a href="http://meredithannemiller.com/">http://meredithannemiller.com/</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/556621_10150911362276593_2068382648_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/556621_10150911362276593_2068382648_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this family. The eldest daughter and her husband are in the next picture. I want teach my kids to love God the way Wendy and Chris have taught their girls. I want to pray for my kids the way Wendy prays for hers. This pic also represents all those parents I worked with at Hillside. You are my people and I will be forever grateful for your influence and your friendship.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/308215_10150384011005049_247807940_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/308215_10150384011005049_247807940_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beau and Ariona holding "The Little Man." They were both students on the worship team when Fly and I ran the high school worship. They have a desire to use their lives to advance the Kingdom of God. I love them and pray for them. And, I can't fail to mention that they both have amazing hair. Can't wait to see what their kids look like!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/269299_10150911362396593_2003721940_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/269299_10150911362396593_2003721940_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is "Home Team." In September of 2011 we got together as a group of people who were going to have dinner once a month in each others homes. Since then we have become a family. In our short time together we have laughed A LOT and shared heartache and struggles. Amber, Aaron, Me, The Fly, Harmony, Ryan, Christy, Justin. I can't imagine life without them. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/534206_10150911362751593_737017113_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/534206_10150911362751593_737017113_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are my beautiful nieces with the Bug. The little one, Love Bug, is strong. She is going to change the world. The bigger one, The Zu Zu Bee, she is compassionate, she is going to care for the hurting. Beautiful girls with so much potential to be love to others. Their mommy and daddy are pictured above. Uncle Mikey and Auntie "Carica." They love our kids like their own. So thankful to call them family and raise our kids together. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/599455_10150911363176593_1032972103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/599455_10150911363176593_1032972103_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keely. She was my voice teacher. I found her when I was 17 years old...oh, how I wish it was when I was 7! She helped me find my voice. She led me to my love of musical theater. She told me I could sing and she inspired me. I miss our weekly lessons and therapy sessions:). </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/66832_1699666181646_3599707_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/66832_1699666181646_3599707_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harmony. My partner in crime. The hardest part of resigning from my position at the church was knowing I would not see her shining face every day. We have grown and learned so much together. She loves God and sings about it. She ushers in His presence in one soulful note. I admire her so much that often I find myself confessing my envy. God has done great things in her and through her. I love getting our hands dirty together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/182586_10150911363316593_704572848_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/182586_10150911363316593_704572848_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These people are so significant in our story. Ron and Viv and their kids have been in our lives more recently. The Fly and Ron are business partners as I mentioned above. Their family has become like family. The Moore's brought me to their church when I was little where I learned about Jesus and how much he loved me. Little did we ever know that one day I would be pastoring their youngest daughter. What a tapestry my story is...threads from my childhood weaving into the present.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/319717_10150911363441593_30352106_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/319717_10150911363441593_30352106_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erin and Nick are pictured above but here they are holding my newest niece, Madeline. I've only been able to hold her a few times but my arms ache to hold her again. I love her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/285737_10150911363741593_1977288227_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/285737_10150911363741593_1977288227_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This pic was taken at the luncheon after Poppy's funeral. These are my cousins. This pic represents family. Both my mom and dad's sides. All of my family leaves on the East coast. We don't talk often but I miss them all every day. Really. I'm thankful my kids get to see their aunts and uncles and cousins often. And although I don't get to see them as much as I like I hold on to bbq's, bluegrass music, volleyball games, hiding under the stairs, sparklers, 4th of July, crabs, swimming pools and so many memories. I love each of them and those that reared them. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/29298_601376339982_1029746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/29298_601376339982_1029746_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a pic from the time I was a volunteer small group leader. These people represent friends and students that were my community as I began the journey of knowing that God had a plan for my life. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/651_46988931147_8220_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/651_46988931147_8220_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Lucy's. Theater people. High School. What a formative time. The last thing I wanted going into my Freshman year was to go to an all girl school. The day I graduated I was so thankful that I went to this all girl school. I love my St. Lucy family and am thankful for the moments back then and when I run into an old class mate. It's like we just passed each other on the stairs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540648_10150911359696593_224816116_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/540648_10150911359696593_224816116_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best friends. I don't know where to start with these girls. Not many people experience a friendship like this one. Tammy, the encourager, Jamie, the wise and steadfast, Robynn, the servant. I can say without cliche that we will really be friends forever. Thankful for friendships that reach into eternity.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/196231_1015296543118_9968_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/196231_1015296543118_9968_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, last, but the most important. Those above are my "people." This is my "person." Fly is strong. He loves through his actions. He is generous. He is funny. He knows my best and my worst and loves me for both. He teaches me. He loves our kids. He's not afraid of much and lives his days well. God has done great things through him and so much more is yet to come. "All I wanna do is grow old with you." </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
As I look through this exhaustive post all I can do is celebrate. In every season there are "people." In and out they come and go. Some stay longer than others. Each play a role. I want to drink in all that each person has to offer. At the same time I want to pour into them and return the blessing.<br />
<br />
Feeling overwhelmed with love. Thank you, God, for people.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-14237579873509856282012-06-11T21:02:00.001-07:002012-06-11T21:02:45.818-07:00Quiet Time<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/254_31042206592_6117_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/254_31042206592_6117_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite quiet place...Maui at sunset...oh, Maui.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've been quiet again. <br />
<br />
It's hard to even know
where to start. I don't want to go so long between posts but lately
writing has felt like one more thing I need to work harder at. If I sit
long enough and think about what I need to work harder at I begin to
feel a giant burden press hard against my chest. The list begins to
roll...<br />
<br />
Be more patient with my children.<br />
Get a handle on the laundry.<br />
Show my husband I love him rather than just tell him in passing all the time.<br />
Pray more.<br />
Listen more.<br />
Be a better friend.<br />
Call people back.<br />
Return texts and emails.<br />
Get a handle on the laundry.<br />
<br />
<br />
The list goes on.<br />
<br />
<br />
The truth is that I've always struggled with believing the lie
that if I get it all together then I will have peace. If I just work
hard enough I will then be worthy. If I can appear to have it all
together then people will admire me.<br />
<br />
Really...those are
some of the biggest and fattest lies. And, I'm pretty sure that I'm not
the only one who has ever believed them.<br />
<br />
In a quiet moment, probably in the big blue chair, I heard the Spirit say, "Be still. Know that I am God."<br />
<br />
Hard command to follow...at least for me.<br />
<br />
You see, for the 81 days leading up to May 28th I was in some intense "talks" with God. <br />
<br />
Let's just say, I prayed like I never had before. It was hard. It was so good. It was raw. It was so real. <br />
<br />
During
that time I couldn't write. God was doing great things inside of me
and inside of those I was praying for and there were no words. But I
felt it. I felt it as I went through those days. As I fed my children,
as I sang them to sleep, as I took walks with them in the big red
stroller, I felt it. But I couldn't express it. <br />
<br />
<br />
It felt like hard work but the kind that I was determined to do.
I've never farmed nor do I anticipate it being part of my future, (could
you imagine?!) but just like a farmer sweats as he gets the ground
ready and lays down the seed, I sweat.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was such hard work. At times I felt that I had done it really
well and then there were times where disappointment crept in or just
plain slapped me in the face and I wavered...oh, how I got wavy! For a
specific two weeks after a specific prayer was answered the exact
opposite way I had hoped for I almost shut down. What was all this
praying for?<br />
<br />
<br />
As the 28th came and went I had expectations. I don't know
exactly what I was expecting...maybe an earthquake or walls physically
falling down. But that night as I rocked the Little Man in the Big Blue
Chair the Spirit ministered to me. That's the only was I can even
describe it. I know, it sounds strange but...such is life, right? <br />
<br />
<br />
After that night there was no earthquake...no crumbling walls. It was quiet. Too quiet for my liking.<br />
<br />
<br />
I didn't know what to do. So I did...anything...everything. I
thought If I kept "doing" then something might happen, as if I could
create or fabricate the answers myself...as if, I were God. <br />
<br />
<br />
Then those words..."Be still."<br />
<br />
<br />
It was as if God was saying, "I heard you. I know. I got this.
Watch what I am going to do now. Just, be still and, let me. I AM." <br />
<br />
<br />
That's exactly what He was saying to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's hard though. <br />
<br />
<br />
It means that I have to trust Him. It means that I have to rely
on Him. It means that I have to remember that the only road to peace
right now is through a constant dependence on Him...not on the fact I
did or did not get a handle on the laundry.<br />
<br />
<br />
Dirty socks, dirty dishes, dirty babies, dirty mommy (you mommies
totally know that there are weeks where even a shower is a miraculous
experience!)...it doesn't matter. I can "try" to "perfect" my mommy
trade until the cows come home but it won't matter. The only way I can
improve my skills is to stop trying so hard and start being quiet.<br />
<br />
<br />
The answers are coming and if I'm busy I might just miss the
beauty of watching the seeds I laid down produce the crop that can only
come from the Father.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe those words are for you today too. So, let's be quiet and watch and see what our God can do.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-52823029774810160672012-05-03T21:21:00.002-07:002012-05-03T21:26:11.334-07:00A LIttle Birdie Told Me <style>
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I have always loved birds. I think it might be a reminiscent infatuation from my
childhood. As I watched Cinderella and her little bird friends on the good old
VHS, I longed for some birdie friends of my own. I have vivid memories of playing outside and standing very
still with my finger available for any bird to perch upon. I set friendly traps in hopes to get to
sing with the sweet winged-creature just as my favorite Disney princesses did. (Don’t judge…you have your own vivid memories!)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I have gotten older birds have begun to symbolize much
more than dreams and wishes my heart might make. God loves the birds too. He even uses them in His Word to remind us of His protection
and His love for each of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One afternoon a few weeks ago I was cleaning orange
splatters of baby food off the back seat of my car. I thought my Little Man was ready to eat from a
squeezy-pouch of food all by himself…I was wrong…it was a carrot crime scene.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I plopped the kids in the grass to play and I propped open
the door into the house to easily go back and forth. Scrubbing away, a funny
thing happened. A bird flew right
into my garage, through the door, and landed on my ceiling fan.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I stood and watched it, perplexed, trying to find a quick
exit for my fine-feathered guest.
I opened the back-slider and waited. The bird flew to a shelf and landed next to a statue I
received as a wedding gift, a husband and wife embracing. It flew back to the fan. Then it ventured to the sweet picture
of the four of us on my mantle and again, back to the fan. The next place it perched was on my big
clock and then of course, back to the fan. Finally, it made a break for it and found it’s way out the
sliding door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.plantanswers.com/mitchell_lake/Content/Mitchel_Birds/contents/Passeriformes/Grt_Crest_Flycatcher/G_C_F_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://www.plantanswers.com/mitchell_lake/Content/Mitchel_Birds/contents/Passeriformes/Grt_Crest_Flycatcher/G_C_F_1.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, that's not me holding the bird...sadly...but this is my bird...It's a Flycather. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
“Weird,” was my thought in the moment. And, as any other mama might, I went
back to cleaning up the carrots…a little bewildered but determined to get the
orange out my seats.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A few days later we found a nest this bird had been building
in the garage in the leg of ladder that had been hanging from the ceiling. It was almost complete. At first, I didn’t have the heart to
disturb this mama’s hard work. She
had been precise and patient waiting for the garage to be open to do her
job. Yielding to her
responsibility, surrendering to her call, she dutifully and persistently went
to work building a dwelling place for her family. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Due to sanitation issues we had to remove it, however, that nest made me pray. I asked God about his sweet creature. And as I prayed I was reminded of our
rendezvous in my house and the places she perched. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The statue of a husband and a wife: <i>“Pray for your marriage.”</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> It was
time to pray prayers that would not just bless and protect but prayers that
would produce fruit and growth. I
prayed for unity and for the embracing to last our lifetimes. I prayed for my husband, no more prayers
laced with selfish ambition, but prayers for him that would bring the future
and hope that God might have for him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The picture of my family: <i>“Pray for your children.”</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> I prayed for my kids to
have hearts that care about people.
I prayed that we would not let our fear or even our good intentions get
in the way of what God has called each of them to be. May we see early the path they are to walk and do our best
to keep Jesus the hero of their lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The clock: <i>“Pray
for your time.”</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Then I was promptly convicted of my “time-wasters.” My minutes are precious. My babies are little and I will regret
my lost moments given to Facebook and Pinterest or even the laundry at
times. My time is a gift. I need
to stop wasting it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought about that Mama Bird doing what she was created to
do and I knew that what this little birdie was telling me was an assignment…one
too important to fail. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is not
enough to pray out of defense and worry.
As a mama I need to build.
I need to be patient and persistent, yielding to my responsibility and
surrendering to my call. As I
abide, make my dwelling, in Christ so might my family and the world may just be better for it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj"><i><sup> </sup>Look at the birds of the
air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly
Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? – Matthew 6:26</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-86900341355094754212012-04-08T23:47:00.000-07:002012-04-09T07:13:29.643-07:00All You Need Is Love<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2xpSEjffsI0/T4KKAcl6hEI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bs7sDHzDbzY/s1600/DSC01006_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2xpSEjffsI0/T4KKAcl6hEI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bs7sDHzDbzY/s640/DSC01006_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Junior High Ministry at it's finest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I did some cleaning out of an old box this weekend.<br />
<br />
I
love slowly going through boxes that are filled with memories. It was
quiet. It was nap time. They were both sleeping and I was
digging...digging through moments that held some sort of significance.<br />
<br />
During my excavation I found three things that brought tears to my eyes.<br />
<br />
First,
I found a letter my dad had written me when I went on my Kairos retreat
my senior year. (Shout out to my St. Lucy fam!) As I read it through
tear-filled eyes I had to smile as he mentioned one of his favorite
memories of me was my love for Strawberry Shortcake. The Bug came to
mind. She LOVES Strawberry Shortcake too...a special something we can
share. I was reminded of how much my daddy loves me and that always
makes a girl feel good.<br />
<br />
Second, I found an old
journal. It was writings from about 8 years ago. I read every word. I
read every prayer. It was moving and conflicting at the same time. It
taught me things. It gave me hope. So much happened in my heart as I
read those words. More than I can even share now.<br />
<br />
Third,
I found a stack of pictures. They were from a winter camp or summer
camp or maybe even both. And as I looked at them more memories flooded
my mind. Those were students that I had the privilege of leading. They
were the first. They heard my stories over and over. Those girls.
(You know who you are!) Each so beautiful in her own way and each so
young, innocent and desiring to know her God.<br />
<br />
I left
the pile on my desk as a reminder to pray for them. Then at some point
in this full day of celebrating my Savior, these words found their way
into my heart.<br />
<br />
"Tell, them about my love."<br />
<br />
I
let it sit. I let it roll around a while. And as it sat it just got
bigger. I knew I could not go to bed tonight without writing to you,
the students I've had the privilege of knowing and loving...those from
the beginning to last bunch.<br />
<br />
So tonight, I write to you, young ones:<br />
<br />
<br />
This morning I heard our Pastor give an Easter sermon
that moved my heart in a way that caused it to want more. More of my
Jesus. At one point he said the words, "I love Jesus," in the most
natural, sincere way. I wanted to not only say it that way but mean it
that way. And, my heart's deepest desire is for people, people I love,
have loved, or will love, to say it that way too. Actually, my heart's
deepest desire is to share His love with anyone and everyone who will
listen and receive it.<br />
<br />
Young one, Jesus loves you. I am
not saying this in a trite, cliche tone. I am telling you a truth that
you need to hear today and remember tomorrow. Jesus loves you. You
know the story. You know what He chose to do because of His love for
you. This is good. So good. But today just focus on the Love. <br />
<br />
Young
one, no matter where you are, what you have or haven't done, He loves
you. His love is not just a feeling toward you. It is a moving and
living love that penetrates your being. It separates the yuck and the
junk from the person He wants you to be, the person He created you to
be. Love is the key, young one. His Love can heal your wounds. His
Love can set you free from whatever has a grip on you at this moment.
His love is unfailing. What does that mean? It doesn't fail. <br />
<br />
If
you spent some time with me in the past I'm sure I told you many
things...probably more than you wanted to hear! My heart for each of
you was for you to know that there is God who loves you and created you
with a plan and a purpose that was not only for you but for something
bigger...His Kingdom. But tonight, if this were the last time I could
write or say anything, it would be all about His Love. His Love
received brings transformation. His Love received heals your wounds.
His Love received forgives your mistakes. His Love received fills up
the empty space. <br />
<br />
And once you receive it...I mean really
receive it...open your hands up and ask for it...you won't want to keep
it to yourself. <br />
<br />
His Love received is meant to be given
away. His Love received is an opportunity. His Love received is Love
to give. It is the only way to live the life He has for you.<br />
<br />
Young
one, I don't know where you find yourself today. You may be far from
the God who Loves you with a Love that changes things. Or, you may be
sitting in His presence even as you read this. Wherever you find
yourself right now, please, ask for it again. Ask for His Love to be
made real to you today. Ask Him to fill you with it one more time. Ask
Him to show you just how much He Loves you.<br />
<br />
Then open your hands. Close your eyes. Sit and receive it. Fill up. Don't stop seeking it until you find it.<br />
<br />
Then
give it away because there's more where that came from. It's only the
beginning. Ask Him to show you today how to do it...how to Love like
He does. I promise it will change you. It will change your world. It
can change the world.<br />
<br />
<i>And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. -- 1Cor 13:13</i><br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-25774086833634532752012-03-30T22:18:00.000-07:002012-03-30T22:18:06.991-07:00Wrestling: A Letter to the Little Man<br />
Dear Little Man,<br />
<br />
One great thing about recording the first year of your life on a blog means that it can't burn up in a fire somewhere or have a gallon of milk spilled on it. I'm pretty sure that when you are able to read you will still be able to find these writings.<br />
<br />
When you do, you will see that it was because of you that I finally sat down and typed. It was because of your sweet, little, baby belly so full of bubbles as an 8 week old that through a sleep deprived stupor I began to hammer out my story...our story.<br />
<br />
Since that late summer evening we have been through a roller coaster in the sleep department. Sleep, or lack there of, I should say, has been a running theme for your whole little life so far.<br />
<br />
I can't even begin to tell you how many prayers I have prayed for your sleep. Countless. I can't begin to tell you how many times your daddy and I have been up and down holding you, calming you, shhhing you, rocking you, even crying with you...in the late hours of the night and the wee hours of the morning.<br />
<br />
To be fair, I must say that there have been a few times, probably a number we could count on one hand, that you slept fairly well. There was even one night that you slept from 7pm to 6am!!! (I seriously cried happy tears...but as you get older you will realize that is not surprising.) However, out of the almost 10 months you have been with us there is no arguing that sleep has been something you struggle with, something that keeps us <b>wrestling.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
For a long time I wrestled with you. I tried everything. Then one day I realized that there might be more to this. That night I said to God, <i>"Fine. If I am gonna be awake anyway we may as well do something productive!"</i> (Or something along those lines...) I began to pray. But this time my prayers were different. I stilled prayed for you but I began to <b>really </b>pray for you and for your sister. For your futures. For your friendships. For your hearts. For your future spouses and their hearts. I prayed for your protection but I also prayed for adventure and full life. I began to use the phrase "Kingdom Builders." And, as I held your not-so-tiny frame in my arms I prayed that both of you would know the love of you Savior. That you would know it in a real, deep, know it in your bones kind of way. I prayed for hearts full of compassion. Hearts that would be moved by the things that move God.<br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie...I was still tired. But my attitude changed. It was a good tired. And I was finding myself looking forward to my moments with you in the big blue chair. My pint-sized pray partner lying in my arms was my posture and it was so...good.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/297285_10150290351460759_362833045758_8349763_1883977757_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/297285_10150290351460759_362833045758_8349763_1883977757_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's the big blue chair in the background. Our "prayer closet," if you will:).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Last night I went in when you awoke with the same expectations....rock you and pray. But you would not be rocked. You would not be soothed. I heard a still, small voice say, "It is time." I pushed it away and continued to wrestle you and hoped that you would give in and rest in my arms.<br />
<br />
You wouldn't.<br />
<br />
I heard the voice again in the deep places of my heart...the places that only leave a faint echo in your ears. Being that the house was so still, I was sure this time that this was it.<br />
<br />
I laid you down in your crib and for the next two hours I rubbed your back, your belly, your legs, your hands. And I continuously said "Shhhh" softly, amidst my breathing. You would push my hands away and then claw them back. You would push yourself up to sitting and I would gently lay you back down.<br />
<br />
You screamed. Over and over again. Your breathing was quick. You choked a few times on all that saliva.<br />
<br />
I cried too. And as we wrestled three things kept playing through my mind.<br />
<br />
1) <b>Psalm 91</b>...You will not fear the terror of the night....over and over again I prayed this for both of us.<br />
<br />
2) <b>A sermon a dear friend of mine gave this last year about parenting.</b> She used the analogy of a canoe on a river. Some parents pack up their kids and send them on down the river...good luck to you. Some parents stand on the shore and cheer them on...you can do it! Then there are some parents that get in that canoe with them. They say things like. "I know this is hard. You will get through this and I will be with you."<br />
<br />
If you were going to stay awake all night, so was I. I knew it was time to help you learn. I knew it would be difficult. I knew I couldn't do it for you but I wasn't going to leave you alone to figure out for yourself.<br />
<br />
So, for the first of many times to come. I got in that canoe with you.<br />
<br />
Then, after that... <br />
<br />
3) <b>Jacob. </b> As my mind faded in and out of those two thoughts a third one entered. Jacob. He wrestled with God one night. You can read about it in the book of Genesis. He wrestled until the sun was coming up. He would not give up until he received the blessing.<br />
<br />
As that story came to life in my head and images began to form it was like my heart finally began to understand.<br />
<br />
<b>That is what this was all about.</b> It was through you, my sweet boy, that God was teaching me that if I want to pray big, outlandish, impossible prayers I needed to learn how to wrestle.<br />
<br />
As you threw your body and fought, and oh, did you fight, I saw the manifestation of what God was teaching me in you. And then it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, this lesson was not just for me...but for both of us.<br />
<br />
Little Man, I don't know what you are going to be when you grow up. But, I do know that this first year of your life, the sleepless nights are not in vain. The seeds sown in this time are nestled in a rich soil. I believe they will return a harvest greater than we can even imagine.<br />
<br />
And, one day, we will look back and thank God for this wrestling match we've been fighting because the blessing will be worth it. <br />
<br />
I love you my sweet boy. I will not stop praying for you and your sister. I will get back in that canoe tonight. I will wrestle with my God.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/p480x480/540115_10150662125136593_708326592_9567172_1919895458_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/p480x480/540115_10150662125136593_708326592_9567172_1919895458_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh those eyes. The cut on your cheek was from the fight last night. A reminder.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-34092997197115441802012-03-29T22:35:00.003-07:002012-03-29T22:35:55.318-07:0043 Days<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A-gNcdzFfiw/T3VDLji4ZOI/AAAAAAAAAWU/qM1gvDDMjHs/s1600/IMG_0972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A-gNcdzFfiw/T3VDLji4ZOI/AAAAAAAAAWU/qM1gvDDMjHs/s640/IMG_0972.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pure Joy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
My heart is so full. There is so much to say without enough words or even understanding to express it all.<br />
<br />
Backing up. It's been a while. I've wanted to write...truly wanted to...but there was a block, a hindrance and at the same time there was too much to say.<br />
<br />
In the past 43 days, since my last post, I have seen God move. My grandfather left this world to be with Jesus. The Bug has grown, learned the enticing power of a tantrum, and rode on an airplane, shouting "Blast off!" at the top of her lungs as the plane went into the air. The Little Man has also grown, learned how to pull himself up and cruise the furniture. He says, "Mama," "Dada," and "Baba." He loves Cheerios now and for the first time I can see how he wants to be as big as his big sister.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nTpVnG-ZK2o/T3VAVQwaj3I/AAAAAAAAAWE/B0gOJw0fRn0/s1600/IMG_1025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nTpVnG-ZK2o/T3VAVQwaj3I/AAAAAAAAAWE/B0gOJw0fRn0/s640/IMG_1025.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the first attempt. That's my hand. I got nervous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kb51SFrTenA/T3VEDoEsIYI/AAAAAAAAAWc/DQ9PvaRKrBY/s1600/IMG_1048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kb51SFrTenA/T3VEDoEsIYI/AAAAAAAAAWc/DQ9PvaRKrBY/s640/IMG_1048.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does this really need a caption?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OLimt1KV9tE/T3VFU03n8BI/AAAAAAAAAWk/hJptlSeDzw0/s1600/IMG_1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OLimt1KV9tE/T3VFU03n8BI/AAAAAAAAAWk/hJptlSeDzw0/s640/IMG_1096.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom-mom and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. (Little Man was asleep on his Grandad) This was taken after a beautiful celebration of my Poppy. Legacy.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the midst of these things my prayer life has been set on fire. I'm praying like I never have before. I'm praying for my family, for friends, for their families, for strangers, for guidance, for sleep, for patience, for my home church, for The Church, for the future.<br />
<br />
It's been the most wonderfully exhausting whirlwind.<br />
<br />
As I sit here trying to figure out what to share that might possibly encourage or even inspire others to give a second thought to the power that lies in prayer...the word that comes to mind is one from a conversation I had earlier this evening. It is <span style="font-size: large;"><b>experience</b></span>.<br />
<br />
Prayer can be an experience. It can be an invitation to encounter the Living God. It can be a outlet of whatever it is that has been bottled up for so long inside of you. It can be a tool...the only tool sometimes...you can use when nothing else seems to influence a situation. It can bring healing, physical and emotional. It can change you. It will change you.<br />
<br />
It has changed me.<br />
<br />
I'm still tired. My son still thinks sleep is for other people. My daughter, like I mentioned above, has tantrums now. The Horizon Vanilla Milk Box from Starbucks was bent. It was tragic. She cried for 15 minutes straight. Not kidding or exaggerating.<br />
<br />
But I'm different. I feel Him again. My God is with me. He never left me. He did not forsake me. He has heard my cry. He says I can seek Him and I will find Him.<br />
<br />
So I am. I am seeking like I never sought before.<br />
<br />
I am praying. I am experiencing His Presence...every day.<br />
<br />
I am finding my Father. I am finding Jesus. I am finding the Holy Spirit.<br />
<br />
I am finding out who He created me to be. I've been looking for so long.<br />
<br />
So tonight, I write to remind me. I write to remind anyone who is hurting. I write to remind anyone who is angry. I write to remind anyone who knows they need something but can't put their finger on it. I write to remind those who in the quiet moments can hear and feel the aching of their soul and the hunger or thirst for something more.<br />
<br />
He is there. Oh! He is there. He loves you like he loves me. He hears you just as He's heard me.<br />
<br />
Put your hope in Him. And, start the conversation.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wL7Nivf4qQA/T3VA4iSsykI/AAAAAAAAAWM/GKAFtpLmz9A/s1600/IMG_0927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wL7Nivf4qQA/T3VA4iSsykI/AAAAAAAAAWM/GKAFtpLmz9A/s640/IMG_0927.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glory. His Presence. Beauty after a storm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6785270087644423111.post-15656560733781794972012-02-15T13:00:00.000-08:002012-02-15T13:00:05.200-08:00A Lovely Valentine's DayThe Bug is "making" me smoothies right now. For Christmas she got a cute retro kitchen and a play blender with pretend fruit and pretend ice cubes. The blender actually spins. She loves it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAv7-1jc614/TzwbCKnU5yI/AAAAAAAAAVo/rqarD8JDKVY/s1600/IMG_0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAv7-1jc614/TzwbCKnU5yI/AAAAAAAAAVo/rqarD8JDKVY/s640/IMG_0917.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
She's winding down...well, we are all winding down. I bet if I mustered up the energy to get up and check, I would find the Fly and the Little Man dozing off to Slumberland. <br />
<br />
What a day. What a beautifully full day. <br />
<br />
There was so much love in my house today. How appropriate, I know.<br />
<br />
About a month ago I was thanking God for my neighborhood. We live on a street filled with kids and parents who love them recklessly. Recklessly loved kids are the kind of kids that jump off walls together, run around screaming at the top of their lungs, ride their bikes at high speeds and do summersaults in the front yard without fear. They know that mom and dad are nearby if they are needed. In the mean time, they are fearless, young and fearless, and their love-tanks are full.<br />
<br />
As I was thinking about all those great kiddos and their great parents I thought about how fun it would be to get them together for a celebration. With the big V-day around the corner it was a perfect opportunity. Plus, Pinterest basically tempts me to have a party everyday...not exaggerating.<br />
<br />
So we planned it. Some of us split up some of the responsibilities and early this afternoon my house was filled with kids...laughing, running, eating, craft-making, cookie decorating, followed by the cookie eating, of course. <br />
<br />
As the kids ran off their sugar highs the mamas and a couple grandmamas sat around my kitchen table and laughed. It was so good to laugh. We learned new things about one another. Our friendships sunk in a little deeper. <br />
<br />
As nap time neared everyone began to gather their things and trickle out the door. Smiles, hugs, and thank yous were shared among all of us.<br />
<br />
Thank you. We each said it to each other. And as they all left and I put the kids to bed for their naps I could still feel the thickness of joy that was left behind. I walked downstairs to clean up a bit and all I could do was smile. So thankful. I was so thankful for each of them.<br />
<br />
For the one down the street at the end of the cul-de-sac. She makes me smile. She cares about my kids and has been a key friend in my transition from working to staying home. We've gotten close over the past couple years and that warms my heart. <br />
<br />
For the one right across the street. She inspires me. I watch her love her kids and pick and choose her battles with wisdom and I can't help but look up to her. I treasure our middle-of-the-street conversations as our kids ride each others scooters or ride their bikes up and down together. <br />
<br />
For the one across the other street, perpedicular to the cul-de-sac. She makes me laugh. I love her silly songs and the way she teaches her kids to love the Lord. She reminds me through her actions not to sweat the small stuff and to laugh with my kiddos. <br />
<br />
For the one right next door. She wasn't here today but her daughter and her mother-in-law, whom I love as well, joined us. She encourages me. I love it every time we get a chance to chat. We swap advice and she reminds me that I'm not alone in this adventure. I love her generous heart. <br />
<br />
It was a privilege to have these ladies and two wonderful grandmamas around my kitchen table today. <br />
<br />
It's an honor to laugh with them and do life with them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E201GI4Fuqk/TzwbjhHTKnI/AAAAAAAAAVw/DdL-RnCNmIQ/s1600/IMG_0916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E201GI4Fuqk/TzwbjhHTKnI/AAAAAAAAAVw/DdL-RnCNmIQ/s640/IMG_0916.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Valentine's Day Monsters the kiddos made at the party:). That's Proverbs 17:17.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09908482126163009866noreply@blogger.com0