tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86911425694660779282024-02-19T00:55:59.875-05:00Fruit Salad PleaseChoosing to practice the Fruit of the Spirit ...in everyday lifeHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.comBlogger157125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-39991889251718473052015-01-18T15:25:00.002-05:002015-01-18T15:27:42.113-05:00What to do with change?It's January - otherwise known in this house as annual de-clutter month. Seriously. Drawers, closets, the basement. No place is safe.<br />
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Yesterday, it was my bathroom vanity. It started as a simple search for an extra button. You know the ones. They come attached to a sweater and you think you'll never need it, but can't quite justify throwing it out. SO instead you throw it in a drawer. Yeah. That kind. </div>
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In the midst of that hunt, I unearthed treasure.</div>
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We get back from trips all jet-lagged and travel-weary. With those precious hours between entering the house and heading to the office, we prioritize sleep above organization. We prioritize sleep above all else. The laundry gets sorted, we unload the essentials out of our luggage and pitch the toiletries bag under the sink for next time - often will all kinds of odds and ends still in there.</div>
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Excavating beneath layers of hotel shampoo bottles and quart sized plastic bags there it was... loose change. As I started collecting it, I found remnants from not one trip, but several. And in a fit of like-things-must-be-together, I went hunting in all the usual spots where change accumulates. </div>
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I found 11 currencies - not including our own. </div>
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We humans become accustomed to the way our own coins and currency feel, look. We attach value to those shapes and sizes. We understand the system. We can easily make sense from a pocketful of the familiar. </div>
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I spent so many years in retail and have counted out so many coins, I think I can do it in my sleep. I feel accomplished and comfortable adding and subtracting the familiar. </div>
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But there was a day that I stood at the corner market in Nottingham, hoping to buy just a few items. The clerk gave me the total and I pulled out a handful of change. I was so disoriented with the different shapes and sizes, I plopped the whole lot of it on the counter like a child buying candy. </div>
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~ Here's all the money I have plus a few bits of lint. How much will it buy me? ~</div>
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It was embarrassing. It's not like I was dealing with yen or rubles. It's was England! But there I was with a handful of new. The colors were different. The textures were different. The weights were different. The clerk gave me a withering look and counted out the appropriate pence and pounds.</div>
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A handful of change from a different country feels unfamiliar. It's not our norm. Holding those coins gives you the very real sense that you have departed from your ordinary. </div>
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Change. New. Different. Sometimes uncomfortable. Often disorienting. Change feels unfamiliar.<br />
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If we are to step out of our ordinary and into a new reality, we must embrace change. We must learn new colors and textures. Change isn't always shiny and fun, but there is always value in it.<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-51310041877014512552015-01-04T16:15:00.002-05:002015-01-04T16:40:53.587-05:00Where We Live - A response We live in New England. Right now, the ground is covered with snow and the air is thick. We are salmon swimming up stream. In the midst of a mass exodus, we moved to <a href="http://www.wfsb.com/story/27747992/connecticut-one-of-the-most-moved-out-of-states-in-the-country" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">the most moved-out-of state</a> in the country.<br />
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Originally upstate New Yorkers, we knew what we were getting when we moved here 6 years ago. We anticipated the higher housing prices, higher gas prices and the outrageous! property! taxes! But there was still sticker shock after 10 years in the south. There are the things we didn't think about - the higher costs of plant material, clothing, groceries, lumber. You name it. It's more expensive here. </div>
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The average age in America is 36. The average age in my state is 40 and rising. Young people are leaving because they can't afford to live here. Older people are leaving because they are retiring to warmer climates.<br />
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<b>The practical</b><br />
On paper, this was a bad decision. On paper, we should move back south where it's warmer and cheaper and there are more evangelical churches. We should move to a place where God is not shunned. Where there are Christian concerts and conferences. We should move to a place where <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/02/deep-laughter-and-borrow-sugar.html" target="_blank">people are more neighborly</a> and there are more jobs and more cul-de-sacs. Where you can skate board in your shirt sleeves in December.<br />
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<b>The Romantic</b><br />
We spent a short time <a href="http://fignotts.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">living in England</a> and when we mention that, people get all dreamy-eyed. There's almost always a big sigh and the question, "Did you love it." While it's asked as a question, it usually more of a statement. And yet, old England has many of the same characteristics as New England - the very same characteristics that send people running. The weather is less than ideal (um. hello. 42 degrees and raining for months on end). It's crazy expensive. The taxes are INSANE.<br />
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<b>The Emotional</b><br />
If the typical reasons for living in one place over another aren't based on weather, taxes and cost of living, then maybe it's family that drives the decision. Some want to be closer to family. Some may want to be farther away, even if no one says it.<br />
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When I think about all these reasons for living in one place over another, this one question keeps hijacking the conversation: <b>Where does God want us? </b><br />
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This is where my faith has begun to trump my logic. Logically, the move to New England was a mistake, but when I watch how God opened some doors and closed others, I have to rest in the knowledge that THIS is where He wants us. It may only be for a season, and it may be for the rest of our days. But the question must always be <b>Where does God want us?</b> He has a <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah+29%3A11&version=NIV" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">plan</a>. He determines <a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/acts/passage.aspx?q=acts+17:26-28" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">where we live</a>. This is where faith intersects everyday life.<br />
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IF I believe this is where we are called to be right now, THEN I must trust Him about the corrupt government and the high taxes and the expensive everything. IF this is where He wants me, THEN I must trust that He will provide for my needs - my financial, emotional and spiritual needs. He may not provide for my wants of family and block parties and deep friendships that propel me forward in my faith, but He promises to provide for ALL MY NEEDS <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+4%3A19&version=NIV" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">according to his riches and glory</a>.<br />
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May we walk in His way, no matter where that takes us.<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-55188924259533190362014-12-10T14:53:00.002-05:002014-12-10T16:43:31.162-05:00Stumbling and Shining + a free Christmas printable<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I was privileged to participate in a Women's Christmas Tea at a local church. This is the essence of my talk. Thank you! to the ladies of Praise for seeing past my nerves to my heart. I so loved being a part of your gathering.</div>
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“I had no idea you were a Christian.” 8 simple words spoken so innocently.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I was a senior in high school and a classmate stood there shocked. I don’t remember what we were talking about or how it came up, but that was her response. “I. had. no. idea. you. were. a. Christian.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You see, I’d transferred into the school as a junior. So here I was “the new girl” with no known history and I chose popularity over my faith. I chose parties over my relationship with Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I took my light and hid it from my classmates. It’s not that I’d walked away from Jesus. At least not in my own mind. I still went to church and sang the worship songs. I knew the Word. And yet, the only thing this classmate knew of me was my reputation of running with the party crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I’d love to tell you that everything changed after that conversation, but it didn’t. I went on living my double life. I attended a Christian college, and also knew the local bar owner by name. I called myself a Christian, but I was living in darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="woj">“I am</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i><span class="woj"><i>the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” </i> </span></span>John 8:12</blockquote>
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The Message puts it this way: <i>Jesus once again addressed them: “I am the world’s Light. No one who follows me <b>stumbles</b> around in the darkness.”</i> <br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Darkness is defined as the absence of light and Jesus says He is the light of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If darkness is the absence of light, and </span>Jesus is the light of the world, then <b><i>darkness is the absence of Jesus</i></b>. And that’s how I was living - in darkness because of an absence of Jesus.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So how could this happen? How could I be living in darkness when I <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-message.html" target="_blank">knew the truth</a>. I knew that Jesus humbled himself and came into this broken, sinful world as an infant with the sole purpose of living a perfect life and becoming the atonement for our sin and giving us life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I’d "accepted Jesus into my heart" as a really small girl and never questioned that decision, but I certainly wasn’t shining with the light of the world. Instead, I was stumbling around in darkness because I my all-day, every-day life didn't have Jesus.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>There was a gap between my theology and my reality.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There were 3 fundamental truths from John 8:12 that I needed to better understand to close that gap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Jesus spoke to the people</b></span></h2>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I grew up in church. I went to a Christian college, but with all that, mostly I read these familiar passages as past tense. Anybody else guilty of that or is it just me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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And while this verse is written in the past tense, the truth is that it is actually present tense. Throughout scripture we see the consistency of God.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Psalms 89:34 says </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>My covenant I will not violate, Nor will I alter the utterance of My lips.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Hebrews 13:8 says </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Based on these verses, is it safe to say that if Jesus said it to the people then, He’s also saying it to us today? If that's the case, if we've moved from the past tense to the present tense, the beginning could read, ‘When Jesus speaks again to Heather, he says…” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Take a moment and reread the verse, inserting your own name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When Jesus speaks again to _______________, he says,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="woj">“I am</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="woj">the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Jesus speaks to the people. Present tense. I needed to understand that Jesus <b><i>speaks</i></b> to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>The Light of life</b></span></h2>
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I like to tinker in the garden, and one of the terms that I’ve come across in my gardening books is phototropic. It’s a fun sounding word: Pho-to-trop-ic.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It means that plants seek the light because it gives them life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I grew up in western NY where winters were long and we could go weeks without seeing the sun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">People in Rochester endure more than 200 days a year of cloud cover. We’re not talking about passing wispy clouds. We’re talking steel gray skies for weeks at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When we’d had enough, my husband and I moved to Richmond, VA and I’ll never forget that first winter. I worked downtown and my building had this huge courtyard. I would stand outside in my coat with my face to sun. People looked at me strangely. But, it was so novel for me – this idea of daily winter sun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">While I like the sun on my face, plants actually need it. In fact, they obtain energy from sunlight to create nutrition. The light literally gives them life. And this is the beauty of the Gospel. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Without Jesus the light of the world - without the sacrifice of His life - we have no eternal life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>I need to follow him</b></span></h2>
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Salvation is a gift freely given, but the gospel is more than the beginning of our faith journey. It’s an important part of our every day. God sent Jesus to pay for our sins – not just the sin I committed before I knew Him, but the sin I will commit later today.</div>
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<ul>
<li>That unkind thought. </li>
<li>The responsibility left undone. </li>
<li>That moment when God asks something of me and I put Him off. </li>
</ul>
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Jesus became flesh, died and rose again to pay for every one of those. My actions today required Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. </div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When we begin to understand the magnitude of the debt He paid, the love He displayed for us, that’s when following Jesus becomes more than a phrase and becomes a way of life. And we further close that gap between our theology and our reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In talking about his book, <i>Follow Me</i>, David Platt says:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">when someone becomes a follower of Jesus we begin to think differently. We begin to desire differently. We begin to want what God wants. We begin to live differently. And that's a good thing, because we believe Jesus knows what's best. Our relationships also begin to change. We see the importance of the community of faith and the church. And we become more intentional about sharing the gospel with people who don't know Christ.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We live in a state where many people don't know Jesus. They may know about Him, but they don’t <i>know</i> Him. <a href="http://cities.barna.org/americas-most-and-least-bible-minded-cities-2/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">New England is consistently ranked</a> as one of the least Christian places in the country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If there are 50 houses on your street, statistically, yours may be the only one who knows that Jesus speaks to us today, that He is the light of light and what it means to truly follow him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="bold" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. </i></span><span class="bold" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven</i>. <o:p></o:p></span>Matthew 5:14-16</blockquote>
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I don’t want anyone to ever say of me again, “I had no idea you were a Christian.” Instead, I want the light of life to shine through me so that they can know the hope that is Jesus Christ.<br />
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______________________<br />
<h2>
FREE PRINTABLE</h2>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://valleycommunity.cc/printable" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lfhiSFYwxguuiqJmn0T5Rbed_mIFA5uef1Y2Rvv5hX5yQnpbBrqJrTjU1-Pkr8LuJHZNHVOft-Tddj78a7BsUKO9BBThR3AEiVuKrjE32pI3c8DvhHjdkyk6x5_7tADwml4rgPGZV0gw/s1600/christmasprintable.jpg" height="600" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> p.s. My church has created this <a href="http://valleycommunity.cc/printable" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">free printable of Isaiah 9:6</a>. <a href="http://valleycommunity.cc/printable" target="_blank">Download your own copy</a> today. </span></div>
Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-25145781147235576052014-10-14T23:04:00.000-04:002014-12-10T14:18:49.787-05:00The Promises of RestThe words of that old hymn's been running through my head these last two weeks.<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Standing on the promises that cannot fail, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">by the living Word of God I shall prevail, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">standing on the promises of God. </span></div>
<br />
The promises that cannot fail. The promises of God.<br />
<div>
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<div>
As I've been <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/10/wrestling-day-3-of-31-days-on-rest.html" target="_blank">w[rest]ling</a> with this idea of rest, I've found myself seeking out and standing on the promises... specifically, the promise of rest.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the version I memorized as a child (the one that I know by heart?), Jesus says, </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"COME unto me, ALL ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I WILL GIVE you rest." </blockquote>
<div>
This translation with it's extra, unnecessary vowel brings to mind the image of one of those overloaded buses in Asia or Africa - the kind with the chicken coops strapped to the roof. Suit cases and trunks piled high. Bodies determined to get to where they're going by hanging on to the smallest hand hold - grasping to not fall off at every bump and turn.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And maybe that's what we do to ourselves. We think that this must be the only way to get where we're going so we keep piling things on until the only space left is the roof and the weight of it all is threatening collapse. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As we desperately hold on, there He is looking kindly into your face, my face - all - and He says, "C'mon. Let me help. I WILL help." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgbMg09NkLIiwXlR-ShURjPfnbCxSwJtbBvThQUL8pqX1WDCuWp7EuxRmo1CtgHe7SPM-E5zNkbNYnvtN-A6JT4rG6LUS7vYnFUfhfZFn5-J7hWwXJxxttMayHZWDw82E2xl4fvAIYQhO/s1600/Matthew11_28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgbMg09NkLIiwXlR-ShURjPfnbCxSwJtbBvThQUL8pqX1WDCuWp7EuxRmo1CtgHe7SPM-E5zNkbNYnvtN-A6JT4rG6LUS7vYnFUfhfZFn5-J7hWwXJxxttMayHZWDw82E2xl4fvAIYQhO/s1600/Matthew11_28.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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<div>
Can you hear Him gently urging, "Get off the overcrowded, overburdened bus. Get away with me. Let me teach you the unforced rhythms of grace. Learn to live freely and lightly."<br />
<br />
The unforced rhythms of grace. The voluntary repeated pattern of mercy, goodwill, favor and pardon. This is the way of Jesus. He voluntarily, repeatedly extends grace.<br />
<br />
He promises to give us real rest, and it takes the smallest of efforts on our part. We need only to walk down the road with Him a while to recover life. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-77315760514342228132014-10-05T01:29:00.000-04:002014-12-10T14:20:42.530-05:00w [rest] ling with restIt's midnight. I'm writing this post and honestly, for the love, I should NOT be writing about rest. It makes me anxious because seriously, this is NOT something I've mastered. I'm wrestling with rest.<br />
<br />
I wrote about rest even in sleeplessness and then spent all of Thursday night tossing and turning. Friday, I felt like I'd been through a washing machine. <br />
<br />
AND we have a foster puppy on the weekends which requires our undivided attention every second of every minute. (On a side note: isn't she the cutest thing ever?)<br />
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<br />
<br />
So, then. Where do we go from here?<br />
<br />
For me, often when I'm confounded by a problem, I start with definitions (thank you Merriam Webster).<br />
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rest </h2>
<span class="main-fl" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.6000003814697px;"><em style="color: #717274; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;">noun</em></span><span class="pr" style="color: #717274; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-left: 10px;">\<span class="unicode" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: 'lucida sans unicode'; font-size: 0.9em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">ˈ</span>rest\</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #45818e;">"repose, sleep; specifically: a bodily state characterized by minimal functional and metabolic activities"</span> Well, that's out. What's next?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #45818e;">"freedom from activity or labor, a state of motionlessness or inactivity, the repose of death."</span> Uh. Hello? It's 2014. Who has freedom from activity? We've assigned 4-letter word status to the word rest. We've made busy the best thing, when really shouldn't rest be the best thing?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #45818e;">"a place for resting or lodging"</span> hmmm. That one has potential, but let's face it. We can't always hang out a country manor in England and even when you do you're not guaranteed rest... More on that later.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #45818e;">"peace of mind or spirit, free of anxieties."</span> Doesn't that sound ideal?</blockquote>
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<div>
How do you really find peace of mind and spirit? Can we really be free of anxiety? This is all a bit of midnight rambling, but maybe - just maybe - the rest (noun) we crave is a consequence of the rest (verb) we choose. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-76989436372288506142014-10-01T23:26:00.005-04:002014-12-10T14:23:17.295-05:00No RestWhen I think about writing again, I come up with all kinds of excuses of why I shouldn't... Here are all the excuses.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I'm so rusty. I haven't blogged regularly in over a year...<br />
I'm so busy. I've been so busy for months that the word busy feels like a 4-letter word... There are days I don't get lunch. There are days I don't have time to pee.<br />
I'm so tired. Like bone-weary, haven't slept in a month tired.<br />
I don't know what to write about because I'm so busy and so tired and so rusty.</blockquote>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then my friend and colleague stood in my office doorway and said, "There will be no rest in October." She already looked tired and it's October 1. The first day of the month.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The first day of an entire month of NO REST. 31 days. 1/12th of the year. NO REST. </div>
<div>
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<div>
But maybe there should be. Maybe there can be. Maybe you and I need to explore this topic of rest. Maybe we need to drink in the colors and the cooler temps and the goodness of God and rest. </div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-71940370349311143412014-09-01T13:59:00.001-04:002014-09-01T13:59:29.785-04:00Summer Interruption and a Give AwayIt's Labor Day, and while I could be swimming with family or helping my husband paint the exterior of our cottage, instead I feel compelled to share this book... this idea... that has had my attention for the last 6 weeks.<br />
<br />
I'm a devour-er of books. Usually 48 hours and done, but this one caused me to sit back and take a slow read, to get out highlighters and sticky notes. To underline and write in the margins. To sit in the quiet and drink in words that sparked in my soul.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Jesus came to the foulest, filthiest place possible (earth), a place full of ungrateful, self-destructive people who would betray Him far more than they'd love Him (a whole planet of Judases). He broke His body for rich people who would curse Him the second their prosperity was endangered. He poured His blood out for those who would take His Word and use it as a bludgeoning tool. He became the offering for people who would slander His name with ferocity, yet His grace was theirs for the asking until they drew their last breaths, even if all they could offer Him was a lifetime of hatred and one moment of repentance." - Jen Hatmaker, <i><a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank">Interrupted</a>: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity</i>.</blockquote>
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<br />
This Gospel. This sacrifice. This grace is staggering. Life changing. And yet I find that many days the details of my life aren't changed at all. What if? That's the question so beautifully presented in <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank"><i>Interrupted</i></a>. What if this truth changed "the way we celebrate holidays," the way we "spend our excess," the way we see other people. What if?<br />
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What if the call to <b><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+12%3A30-31" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">love my neighbors</a></b> and the <b><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+25:31-46" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">least of these</a></b> applies not just to one week of the year in another community, but in the way I live my Tuesdays in MY community? What if?<br />
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This isn't a new way of thinking for me because just a few short years ago my all day, every day was framed by these principles, but then a job change and move uprooted and replanted us and that way of living was suspended. It's amazing how quickly life became consumed by home and family.<br />
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<a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/interrupted" target="_blank"><i>Interrupted</i></a> was a grace and humor infused shove to rethink my everyday. As Jen says, "we spend the majority of our lives in our homes, our neighborhoods, at work, in school." "How would our communities be transformed if our churches became servants to our cities?"<br />
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I'm not sure what that looks like for me as I type these words, but I know it doesn't look like sitting on my couch eating salt and vinegar potato chips in my free time - not that I would ever do that!<br />
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And if I'm compelled to get off my couch, I may as well drag you along. If you're feeling a bit too comfortable or a little restless, this book may be just what you need. I'd loan you my copy, but it's all dog-earred and marked up. So, I'm going to give away one copy to someone who comments right here on this blog post. I'll choose a winner at random at 5 p.m. Thursday, September 4.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-30053230522959230382014-08-04T22:21:00.000-04:002014-08-04T22:21:00.290-04:00Cucumber Salad Recipe <br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">This is a summer staple at our house when the garden cucumber start coming in. It's originally from the Hungarian-American cookbook by the Lutheran Ladies' League, Cleveland Ohio, 1968. It's the perfect, light summer side. </span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">2 medium sized cucumbers (I use 3)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">2 tsp salt</span></li>
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<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Wash and pare cukes, slice very thin, put in a bowl and sprinkle with salt. Mix lightly and set aside for an hour.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">3 tbsp white vinegar</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">1/2 cup water (I reverse the measurements for vinegar and water - more vinegar less water)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">1/4 tsp pepper</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">1/2 tsp sugar</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">1/4 tsp Hungarian paprika (I'm told the type matters, but if your audience doesn't know better...)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">2 heaping tbsp of sour cream (add 3 tbsp if using light sour cream)</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Combine the above ingredients and set aside.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Squeeze cucumber slices (I just drain them well) and discard the salty liquid.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Pour vinegar mixture over cukes and toss together.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Sprinkle a little paprika over them for color.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Chill.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 20px;">Options that I never bother with: add 1 clove minced garlic OR 1 small thinly sliced onion.</span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-77002086673035146922014-07-31T18:03:00.000-04:002014-08-01T13:03:43.462-04:00Mechanical pencils and bindersAt age 2, she started speed dialing me. I loved that about her.<br />
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At age 5, she called my cell phone and informed me, "Aunt Heather, I love you, but I talk to you all the time. I don't ever talk to Uncle Mark. Can I talk to him, please?" And talk she did. For 20 minutes. I love that about her.<br />
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FaceTime happened, and at age 8 she carried my electronic self into her newly decorated room, showing me the "not pink or purple" bedspread and curtains. Then she laid on her new comforter and told me all about some facet of life that I've now forgotten. I thought I couldn't love her more.<br />
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But she did me in last night. The topic was recent school shopping and that one thing that was her favorite. She told me it was her binder - because she's always wanted a binder for school - and her mechanical pencils. And then that sweet voice, "I LOVE mechanical pencils."<br />
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She's nine. She can't wait for school. She loves school. I love that about her.<br />
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But soon, someone will look at her love of mechanical pencils and binders and assign a label.<br />
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They will decide that the her-ness of her is not enough. That the perfect plan of God in creating her uniquely, wonderfully, fearfully doesn't measure up to some arbitrary standard.<br />
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All those labels. They are lies. The very opposite of truth.<br />
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My fervent prayer is that she she binds the truth of His love and faithfulness to her soul and writes it on the tablet of that beautiful heart. I pray that she fills that binder with page after page of the Truth. And that she scratches out all those false labels with her mechanical pencils.<br />
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I pray that she always speed dials her Creator.<br />
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I pray that she always pursues the hearts of others.<br />
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I pray that she spends time every day talking to her Maker about some facet of her life.<br />
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I pray that she BINDS love and faithfulness and truth around her neck and WRITES them on the tablet of her heart.<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-83834117662745826142014-07-19T23:44:00.001-04:002014-07-19T23:44:58.279-04:00When Neighboring is HardWe have new neighbors at our little cottage where we go to rest—for peace and quiet and amazing sunsets that let you drink in the glory of God.<br />
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When we bought the place, the next door neighbors were friends. Literally. It’s not quite how their last name was spelled, but it was pronounced FRIEND. They were kind and laughed easily and helped us split wood and played cards with us. He was a World War 2 veteran. We loved them.<br />
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But last year, they sold their camp to new folks.<br />
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We welcomed our new neighbors. We were friendly. We approached this new relationship as if they, too, would be our friends. Instead, it felt like they approached us as the enemy. It appeared they were just looking to be disagreeable, that they’d made assumptions about us that just weren’t true. It never occurred to us that it could all go south so quickly.<br />
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They did not intervene when their dogs stood on our dock and barked at us while we swam. There were strong statements about lot lines and boundaries. There were tantrums and hurtful words that left us stunned and taking two steps back.<br />
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It was a tough summer. I did NOT want to be kind.<br />
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But as I prayed, I was challenged by Matthew 5:44-48.
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #351c75;">“If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else?” </span></blockquote>
We are called to be different from everyone else. We are called to love our neighbors, and we are called to love our enemies. So what if our neighbors are acting like an enemy? Maybe we’re called to love them twice as much.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #351c75;">“In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven. For he gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike.” </span></blockquote>
If I’m going to be like Jesus, I need to love those who don’t love me. I need to ask God for a double measure of patience and kindness. I need to work twice as hard to not be rude. I shouldn’t keep a list of the offenses. I should love them because Jesus loves them.<br />
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<a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Amy Lively</a> says, “Girlfriends, we represent Jesus until He comes again! Does this terrify you as it does me? Just when I’m not sure I can measure up, the Holy Spirit whispers, ‘I’m right here. Trust me.’ When Jesus has disappeared from your neighbor’s view, He will use you to help her find Him again. He will use your arms to strengthen her. He will use your words to calm her. He will use your home to comfort her.”<br />
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This summer, I have a new attitude and a new God-given love for my neighbors – even when it’s hard.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-41375207069349526892014-06-26T18:28:00.001-04:002014-06-26T18:28:35.792-04:00DIY pallet headboardFor reasons involving slanted ceilings, my bed at the cottage doesn't sit against a wall. And for reasons involving laziness, there's been no headboard for 8 summers. Imagine all the times the pillows fell off the end! But that's all changed now that we built a a headboard out of pallets.<br />
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A simple search on Pinterest will yield all kinds of furniture made from pallet wood. We looked at several designs, but needed to create our own because of all those slanted ceilings.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzGN96e0xU9PzWc7NFiidcZwpDtM2QS7vLuodwc_UrfB7IdfL5Wjjid7d1cMHZ__BOpFrji-wMIytiJ4OQo-FgHA3XWLHZUWSr9_XZD51Kq__7v2zRX-35WG-abfmMT00_TblHDRbk_2S/s1600/palletdiy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzGN96e0xU9PzWc7NFiidcZwpDtM2QS7vLuodwc_UrfB7IdfL5Wjjid7d1cMHZ__BOpFrji-wMIytiJ4OQo-FgHA3XWLHZUWSr9_XZD51Kq__7v2zRX-35WG-abfmMT00_TblHDRbk_2S/s1600/palletdiy1.jpg" title="DIY Pallet Headboard" width="600" /></a></div>
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Step 1: Find pallets - due to the popularity of this fad, I figured it would be easy. I was wrong. Our neighbors had several they donated to the cause, but that wasn't enough wood, so we went hunting. Many of the big box stores return theirs for credit. Apparently, you can find them on Craig's List. We found a few behind a smaller grocery store and asked permission to take them.<br />
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Step 2. Dismantle. Our pallets were weathered and filthy. We started dismantling the best ones but found that the rusty nails made it tough to get them apart. We broke quite a few boards in the process.<br />
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Step 3: Remove 1 million, 6 hundred and 23 nails. Some were really stubborn and went flying once they finally came loose. Make sure you find them all so there are no punctured feet, soles or tractor tires. No one wants to stop what they're doing for a tetanus shot or a flat tire.<br />
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Step 4: Start picking out the boards that will work. I looked for similar widths, but different colors and textures. We got really lucky and had some fantastic variation. There was even a board that has bark in the center of it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgPQIdolNrgBd4XfcDVlQ1bqgBknPmxXmI9GsTphnQXe4a-oBgrFxf_-FDzjUHRxaSnslkT6Hm7djDiJejMGSrfwN0yRJuBL_fUlQmadEwSA4X9RTBpyhjE5ntp2FsmIpDd699uc9l9tA/s1600/palletdiy5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgPQIdolNrgBd4XfcDVlQ1bqgBknPmxXmI9GsTphnQXe4a-oBgrFxf_-FDzjUHRxaSnslkT6Hm7djDiJejMGSrfwN0yRJuBL_fUlQmadEwSA4X9RTBpyhjE5ntp2FsmIpDd699uc9l9tA/s1600/palletdiy5.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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Step 5: Start laying out your design. (We actually built 2 headboards - one for each bedroom at the cottage. Both are about 18 inches high and 64 inches long. We used most of the wood from 3 pallets.) Several boards had cracks or splintering pieces. We didn't want our pillow cases snagging on the boards so we used a bit of wood glue and clamps to fix the bad sections.<br />
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Step 6: Assemble. We used scrap deck boards to screw all the pieces together and give it stability. Make sure you use the correct length screws so they don't go all the way through the pallet wood. Once they were assembled, I cleaned them. Then we added boards down each side and across the top to frame them.<br />
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Step 7: Sand and stain. You don't have to sand these. The look is so rustic you'd probably be fine, but these are going to have bed sheets and pillow cases up against them so I gave them a rough sanding on the worst areas. I also applied 2 coats of clear satin poly.<br />
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Step 8: Attach to the bed. We measured the height (measure both sides because the pallet wood isn't even widths!). We screwed 2x4's to the back and bolted the 2x4's to the metal bed frame. Done!<br />
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<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-14643085939990432242014-06-17T12:43:00.000-04:002014-07-11T09:45:00.384-04:00Neighboring for Introverts, part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How can introverts love their neighbors?<br />
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In <a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/neighborhood-cafe/neighboring-for-introverts-part-1/">Part 1 of Neighboring for Introverts</a>, I talked about the difficult truth that I – an extreme introvert – am commanded to love my neighbor.<br />
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While this seemed like a paradox to my particular personality, I need to rest in the truth of God’s Word. He promised He will provide what I need to do what He’s commanded.<br />
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Once I let that glorious reality settle into my soul, I found that I needed to take some practical steps:<br />
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1. Concentrate on individuals rather than groups. </h4>
If you’re like me, the idea of inviting all your neighbors into your home causes a mild panic attack. Instead, pray that God would put you in contact with two or three of your neighbors. We introverts do much better on a one-to-one basis or in small groups. Embrace that and let God use it.
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<a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/neighborhood-cafe/neighboring-for-introverts-part-2/" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; color: #515151; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.600000381469727px; line-height: 14.7839994430542px;">I'm guest posting over at </span>The Neighborhood Cafe<span style="background-color: white; color: #515151; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.600000381469727px; line-height: 14.7839994430542px;">. Come join me for the </span>rest of this post<span style="background-color: white; color: #515151; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.600000381469727px; line-height: 14.7839994430542px;">.</span></a>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-634866026559022962014-06-16T15:38:00.000-04:002014-06-16T15:38:56.780-04:00God of the gaps"God is a God of the gaps. Even if your earthly father doesn't get it all right or gets it really wrong, God can fill those gaps." These were the words from my pastor this weekend as he started a sermon on the hard, complicated, amazing truth that each one of us deserve to be at the receiving end of God's wrath.<br />
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And yet! Because of Christ's love for us... because he stood in the way of that wrath... <b><i>we are spared</i></b>. </div>
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There's something about that overwhelming sacrifice of Christ that gets me - catches me - brings me to tears on a Monday morning. It's a concept that is hard to grasp. It's also a staggering reality that sometimes seems so removed from the details of life.</div>
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But there's a truth here that trickles down into the every day. Stay with me, okay?</div>
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I am an imperfect mess who actually deserves God's wrath. Christ, on the other hand, is perfect. He laid down his life for mine. Stood up and said, "take me instead." It's a gift that I just needed to receive.</div>
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He forgives (active present tense) me when my attitude is bad. When I make a poor decision. When I give into my selfish wants. <b>Every day, I blow it and am in desperate need of forgiveness and grace.</b> </div>
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Every.Single.Day. </div>
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That's not an unhealthy self-image; it's an honest assessment. I need God and others to extend grace and forgiveness to me because I blow it. </div>
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Yet, I look at someone else who has blown it differently than me, and I... what? sit in judgment? ouch. The truth is that judgement doesn't always sound like, "you're a horrible person." </div>
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Sometimes, it sounds like this:</div>
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<li>"That jerk" while in traffic.</li>
<li>"Who do you think you are?" when dealing with someone who cut in line.</li>
<li>"You have GOT to be kidding me!" </li>
<li>"Bless her heart."</li>
<li>"I can't believe you did that... said that... acted like that" about a loved one who, in a moment, hurt our feelings or our pride.</li>
<li>"I should have known better" which should actually be "I have no hope for that person."</li>
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In reality, I've been that jerk in traffic. I've probably cut in line. I've said and done things that hurt those I love. I've missed deadlines and let people down. And I pray that God fills those gaps that I create. </div>
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I'm so thankful for the grace He extends to me, but now comes the tricky part. <b>Can I extend that grace to others?</b></div>
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Before you go thinking I'm saying something I'm not, let me be clear! We should be cautious in traffic (and we should NOT be texting). We should draw boundaries with those who continually hurt us (emotionally and physically). We should leave unsafe situations (immediately). </div>
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I'm not talking about the dangerous. I'm talking about the run-of-the-mill, you caught me at a bad time and I snapped at you moments. </div>
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In those daily interactions with friends and family and strangers in the grocery store, can I keep God's forgiveness in the forefront of my <strike>mind</strike> heart enough to extend grace and forgiveness to those around me?<br />
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Can I CHOOSE to see that person as God sees them - dearly loved? Can I CHOOSE to extend compassion instead of worrying about my pride? Can I CHOOSE to be in relationship rather than always trying to be right?<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-8372289669381512332014-06-09T13:29:00.000-04:002014-07-11T09:37:08.056-04:00Neighboring for Introverts, part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I live on five acres on the side of a mountain. You can’t see my front porch from the street. My husband and I have busy jobs, and our family lives out of state. We never had kids. We’re from the northeast. And as if all that isn’t enough…<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">We. Are. Introverts. </span></b><br />
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So, that big commandment of loving your neighbor. That’s a tough one for us... <br />
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I'm guest posting over at <a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/neighborhood-cafe/neighboring-for-introverts-part-1/" target="_blank">The Neighborhood Cafe</a>. Come join me for the <a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/neighborhood-cafe/neighboring-for-introverts-part-1/" target="_blank">rest of this post</a>.<br />
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Update: Read <a href="http://www.theneighborhoodcafe.net/neighborhood-cafe/neighboring-for-introverts-part-2/" target="_blank">Neighboring for Introverts, part 2</a>.
Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-78095205628787106792014-05-27T19:15:00.000-04:002014-05-27T19:15:22.840-04:00Why #YesAllWomen matters to me and youThe first time it was on a beach as a teenager. The last time... It's that panic response when you hear foot steps behind you on the street, when you're home alone and the dog gets agitated. The swirling of your brain as you ready your phone to call 911.<br />
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Last night, Mark and I were discussing the #YesAllWomen twitter phenomenon- over 1.2 million tweets about the reality that all women feel threatened. We talked about my story. We started counting.<br />
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<li>That <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/06/dishonesty-and-danger-in-daytona.html" target="_blank">incident in Florida</a> when I was a teenager</li>
<li><a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/02/hardly-day-6.html" target="_blank">Sexual assault</a> and having my life threatened in college</li>
<li>Cramming for finals with friends at an all-night diner and having to leave because of the things a group of men were saying they'd do to me if they could get me alone</li>
<li>Mugged at knife point in the <a href="http://withart.visitphilly.com/museums-attractions/azalea-garden/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">museum gardens</a> in Philadelphia</li>
<li>Followed on the highway by a car of men who paced me, taunted me, tracked me until I pulled into a police station</li>
<li>Approached by a stranger in my work parking lot at 8 a.m. and told he'd seen me on my commute several times and wanted to ask me out </li>
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That's 6 incidences. SIX. Not one happened in a bar. Not one happened while I was under the influence. Not one time have I feared for my life at the hands of another woman.<br />
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These events don't count the lesser incidences at conferences, in airports, the cat calls, the whistles, the guy who stands too close or cops a feel in a crowded room, the never putting your glass down in public. How about the coworkers who knew I needed to work on their computers and left their porn up? Or the sixteen thousand times a group of business men thought it would be cute to proposition the waitress? Never mind the guy who jumped out at me in Africa just a few months ago.<br />
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And here's how off-kilter our world is. I didn't want to type that last sentence. I didn't want to hear the comments that I should "expect that in a foreign country."<br />
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Or how about the other ones I've heard: Your being ridiculous; He didn't mean any harm; If a boy's being mean to you it means he likes you; You must have deserved/asked for it; You should have known better than to be there... Really? in a restaurant/public road/beach/garden/work parking lot?<br />
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Even as I type this, I find myself wanting to explain to you that I'm a conservative girl, as if that should matter. As if any girl/woman deserves to be harassed, threatened, raped, or killed because a man felt like it.<br />
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The public discourse is scary because of words like misogyny and feminism. In Christian circles, we don't talk about these things, but that doesn't mean they don't happen. This is not a partisan issue. We can't ignore the conversation.<br />
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After a weekend of reading the stories on #YesAllWomen, I <strike>want</strike> need to say these 5 things.<br />
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<b>I believe</b> our reality won't change if we don't talk about it. Openly. honestly. Without judgement or defensiveness.<br /><b>I believe</b> that there are really decent men. My husband is one of them. I believe fathers should think about how they treat their wives because that is what their daughters will think is acceptable.<br /><b>I believe</b> in modesty, but not as body armor. Modesty is about respecting my Creator; not a defensive weapon against unwanted advances.<br /><b>I believe</b> that boys need to be taught self-control - control of their hands, control of their eyes, control of their bodies, control of their tongues - from a really young age. I believe fathers need to model respect for women.<br /><b>I believe</b> girls should know <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/01/identity-check.html">who they are in Christ</a>. But I also believe they should be taught caution and self defense because there will always be one jerk. While I'm hopeful for change, I'm not foolish enough to believe that wishing for change will protect them.</blockquote>
<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-47391753666663427862014-05-14T22:52:00.003-04:002014-05-15T10:15:10.763-04:00Hostessing Made Easy - Paper Napkin CenterpieceWe looked at this plain table with a wrinkled table cloth and scratched our heads. This would never do. The last-minute details of the high school year-end celebration dinner were under way at church. The kids had decided on the color scheme, the theme, the music.<br />
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Every last detail except for this lonely check-in table. I looked over the supplies at hand and spotted packages of green polka dot and blue swirl paper napkins, and I taught them my favorite hostess trick.</div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><b><i>A paper napkin centerpiece!</i></b></span> It's the perfect way to make napkins available and add some visual height and interest to your table - especially when serving food buffet-style. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQqJsoVJtO0fHhK0NxZc5xof3WYhULQWLqnEFjPZv6Ogtr0ZPHNTiqVjMqlwCJr9wzqVAu9vF9zmAIP5x8_p6lV4BKbDtYoHlq7KLqJHgtXbN1lr-0zMzto3sUpgtRBJjtbF1A1S24eWU/s1600/napkin-holder2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQqJsoVJtO0fHhK0NxZc5xof3WYhULQWLqnEFjPZv6Ogtr0ZPHNTiqVjMqlwCJr9wzqVAu9vF9zmAIP5x8_p6lV4BKbDtYoHlq7KLqJHgtXbN1lr-0zMzto3sUpgtRBJjtbF1A1S24eWU/s1600/napkin-holder2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>We went hunting around the church and found a wide-mouth vase. To accommodate the height of the vase, we unfolded the napkins and rolled them from corner to corner. Those first few have to be kept rolled until you have enough to fill your container. After that, add some at different heights to give it a little dimension. </div>
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At home, I use a Southern Living at Home plant holder that I bought at least 10 years ago. (What happened to that fad from the early 2000's?) When you use a shorter container, you don't have to unfold the napkins before you roll them.<br />
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You could use a clay pot, a plant holder, something made from pallet wood - whatever you have on hand. Happy Hostessing!<br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-61975098932757161782014-05-07T10:14:00.000-04:002014-07-11T10:14:44.129-04:00When we forget that everyone doesn't have the same story as usWhen we started meeting weekly, there was a deep freeze in this record setting winter of New England. We didn't all know each other and the chill ran deep, but shoulder to shoulder we've worked our way through the story of Nehemiah and the rebuilding of the walls. And as the weather has warmed, we have heard each others stories and celebrated God's greatness.<br />
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There is always a thawing when we come together in humility and grace.<br />
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And so, here we are in week 10 of meeting and her story spills out. It's filled with abuse and heartache and little boys she needs to protect. She's new here at this women's study that meets in a room full of old books. This group of women she didn't know 10 weeks ago wrap their arms around her and love her and cry with her.<br />
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You see, we didn't know that as we studied the rebuilding of the walls, that we were supporting her in rebuilding a life. For 9 weeks, we assumed her story looked like ours.<br />
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Except that's just it, isn't it?<br />
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None of our stories are the same. They are all different. And those different life experiences. Those oftentimes painful steps of faith. Yet we share the same <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-message.html" target="_blank">glorious hope</a>.<br />
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All of us in that room, in the body, are leaning on the same God. The same fortress. The same shelter. The same <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2012/04/towering.html" target="_blank">strong tower</a>.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">You are my rock</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">When storms are raging all along,</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">You shelter me, God</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m safe with you on solid ground,</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m hangin’ on</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m leaning in, to You</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I don’t know where you’ll take me</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">But I know You’re always good</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">My hope is built on nothing else,</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Than Your great love, Your righteousness</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I will not walk another way</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I trust Your heart, I trust Your name</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m holdin’ on</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m holdin’ on, to You</span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></span><br />
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-73525566535796867192014-05-05T16:52:00.001-04:002014-05-14T21:40:16.275-04:00The not-so-easy project - photo gallery wallA holiday weekend. Three glorious days all strung together with so much promise. Some folks plan ski trips. Some visit family. We tackle projects - paint a room, lay a kitchen floor at the in-laws, re-do a closet, whatever.<br />
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We were project people before <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/hfignar/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> and DIY blogs made being projecty cool. We've built decks<!-------></div>
and docks and put up walls. We've molded crowns. We've wired and plumbed and rewired and replumbed. We've dug out stumps and <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2012/03/stones.html" target="_blank">dug deep</a> for below-frost-line-post-holes. And not one single solitary project has been as easy or taken the amount of time it 'should' have.<br />
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And yet. We never learn.<br />
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This one began on a 3-day weekend and took 3 long months.<br />
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You see, we have all these photos from the places we've visited and we had this giant wall and Pinterest makes it look so easy. So we thought, "It will only take a couple of hours and we have three days. Fantastic winter weekend project. Yeah, us."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0KVWUTFXo3HX1SKV7GP0af6I_AHR3Sa2ABy-QVRrXN_HrnfOr8f13UsgYvwKwL68tTpoe4pyzo6Dzb5MxnLzf9GByYuVZs3koP_9wb0ik0ZIl7lfVNVkKvfL2atWqkRyP8wBwmJarKZD/s1600/DIYCollage-Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0KVWUTFXo3HX1SKV7GP0af6I_AHR3Sa2ABy-QVRrXN_HrnfOr8f13UsgYvwKwL68tTpoe4pyzo6Dzb5MxnLzf9GByYuVZs3koP_9wb0ik0ZIl7lfVNVkKvfL2atWqkRyP8wBwmJarKZD/s1600/DIYCollage-Wall.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMB6kMe3QFPC_YM89lEkWNdTAfRNcK0Lgjwzal4BLqEocA7UJqPqjq8Ok8uZxBnESvEqvYleJmMjeUFTIxJXrkJJDyGvwydD-r7i3KKKGxhg0-SWR0cgt7Zv9tYip5j3KBbr4aCBrLglV/s1600/DIYCollage-Wallcloseup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMB6kMe3QFPC_YM89lEkWNdTAfRNcK0Lgjwzal4BLqEocA7UJqPqjq8Ok8uZxBnESvEqvYleJmMjeUFTIxJXrkJJDyGvwydD-r7i3KKKGxhg0-SWR0cgt7Zv9tYip5j3KBbr4aCBrLglV/s1600/DIYCollage-Wallcloseup.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>
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Here are the steps we took for this <strike>so</strike> not-so-easy, <strike>quick</strike> 3-month project.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSekeRSI1xsv4hkDWNaFkkAKo7tsOzbkwHBmcrN70Iv8ZNQbiykBpuVjoMnCChu3Dc5XA2Ls9toGPrGNUsY5oYgCkVduHynKBsN4KJikr_P53QbMfKP6ByAPX90g8ERvjilfd8wnm9rvQD/s1600/steps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSekeRSI1xsv4hkDWNaFkkAKo7tsOzbkwHBmcrN70Iv8ZNQbiykBpuVjoMnCChu3Dc5XA2Ls9toGPrGNUsY5oYgCkVduHynKBsN4KJikr_P53QbMfKP6ByAPX90g8ERvjilfd8wnm9rvQD/s1600/steps.jpg" height="400" width="220" /></a></div>
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<li><b>Choose your frames.</b> We chose a system of frames we liked from Michaels. I'd link to them, but they don't seem to sell them online. These particular frames are black and came in a variety of sizes. </li>
<li><b>Choose your photos.</b> We went through all 14,657 photos from all our trips (you think I'm exaggerating) and chose the ones we really liked. There were a few photos we couldn't agree on, so insert some time for debate. </li>
<li><b>Print out the images</b> on plain paper so that you can move them around as you adjust the frame layout. </li>
<li><b>Find a space</b> where you can arrange the frames. We moved all our dining room furniture in order to create enough floor space for all these frames. [IMPORTANT: remember to hoist the dining room fixture up high.] </li>
<li>Take time to love on the dog who thought this was interesting for the first three hours, but is so over it by day three. </li>
<li><b>Measure the wall space</b> you have and configure your frames to fit. You might get it just right on the first try. <br />We. did. not. We finally agreed to option number 7...17...70. Then we called our friends who were supposed to visit that evening because this took WAY longer than expected, our house was a wreck and we hadn't showered.</li>
<li><b>Add hangers</b> to every single frame. This requires a fair <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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amount of measuring to ensure that the hangers are centered. [At this point you can either wait til your poster size prints come in or you can hang the frames as is and fill them later. We chose the latter... er ladder... you know. The one that stayed in the entry way from the beginning of this project until the end.]</li>
<li><b>Start hanging your frames.</b> We started on the left and worked right. We had to be sure we started high enough, but not so high that you couldn't see the photos. Fortunately, I am <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/search/label/marriage" target="_blank">married</a> to a very smart man with an engineering degree who understands math. For the life of me, I can't figure out how regular people do this stuff. </li>
<li><b>Measure, measure, measure,</b> hang, level, plumb. Measure, hang, level, plumb. Repeat. [We highly recommend that you NOT fall off the ladder and cause your spouse a heart attack. Just bruises thankfully.] Also, you may find that you need therapy for your OCD. </li>
<li><b>Edit and crop your photos</b> in photoshop. At night, after work. In the coldest month in the history of ever. Under a blanket. In front of the fire. I am NOT an expert at photoshop, but I know just enough to get what I need eventually. If there are more user-friendly products, I'd love to hear about them in the comments. </li>
<li><b>Upload them to site that can print them</b>. We used <a href="http://mpix.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">mpix</a> because they are the only ones who could provide the sizes that we needed and the quality is fantastic (they didn't ask me to say that).</li>
<li><b>Wait FOREVER</b> for all your photos to be delivered. [NOTE: make sure you have no rogue options checked on some of your images. I ordered several with a white border without meaning to so now we're waiting for their next sale before reordering.]</li>
<li>Name this <b>"The Project That Never ENDS."</b></li>
<li><b>Take a picture </b>of your frames on the wall so that when you take them down, you'll know where they go.<b> </b></li>
<li><b>Clean the glass</b> and place photos in the frames. Realize they are a touch too big and trim them ever so carefully so as not to bend or wrinkle the photo. </li>
<li><b>Hang your photos</b>.</li>
<li>Step back and <b>admire your work</b> because this stopped being a fun project and started being work 2 months and 27 days ago. </li>
<li>Scoff at all the "easy DIY" pins for the next year.</li>
<li>Cancel all future trips because you can't even imagine adding photos from the next adventure. </li>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-26843071775059509612014-04-23T11:09:00.000-04:002014-07-20T10:05:12.843-04:00The trouble with FacebookThere it is in my news feed: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px; line-height: 17.563634872436523px;">Facebook is consuming too much time."</span><div>
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This online tool that has no personality and no choice and doesn't even qualify as an inanimate object is responsible for how someone spends their day. </div>
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Would you say that about your bed? "This bed is consuming too much time, so I'm going to give it away!"</div>
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Or maybe your stove is the offender. "This stove is consuming too much time so I'm going to get rid of it!" </div>
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The truth is that only WE are responsible for how we spend our time. The problem is not Facebook's. The problem is our's. So, in Facebook's defense, here are the ways I use Facebook as a tool throughout my day.</div>
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<li><b>I stay in touch with family.</b> All of my family live in other states. I get to see photos from the daily lives of those I love.<br></li>
<li><b>I communicate with the women in my Bible Study.</b> It's a great tool for sharing links and verses that reiterate whatever we're studying at the time. <br></li>
<li>I fill my feed with things that <b>encourage my soul.</b> I subscribe to groups that post encouragement or great articles. They aren't always spiritual. Alton Brown's posts makes me laugh out loud.<br></li>
<li>I use the privacy tools to <b>delete or hide what I don't want to see</b>. Facebook allows you to:</li>
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<li>Hide posts</li>
<li>Hide people</li>
<li>Delete ads and tell them why you don't want to see those</li>
<li>Hide game notices</li>
<li>Set the privacy for almost every photo, post and app.</li>
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Facebook is a tool, as is any social media platform. Choose to use that tool or not, but don't blame the bed because you overslept. </div>
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A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls.<br>~ Proverbs 25:28 </blockquote>
Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-28121098656043147372014-04-08T15:31:00.000-04:002014-05-05T10:26:41.043-04:00Marriage Letters - Co-workHow we co-labor...<br />
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I've been pondering this post for a month. 30 daily contemplations of this term co-labor. It has such a Biblical connotation, and we don't talk that way.<br />
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You and I didn't <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/05/hope-differed-on-mothers-day.html" target="_blank">labor in a hospital room</a>. We don't labor in the fields - even the metaphoric one. Labor is a strange word for us unless it's a September holiday.<br />
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Instead, we work. We co-work side by side. You and I have a shared language of cubical-enclosed corporate.<br />
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This past 30 days, I saw you. And I saw you seeing me. We worked side-by-side on so many days. Not physically with the unending, cold, dreary weather, or corporately with your office and mine miles apart, but emotionally and spiritually.<br />
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There was that moment when you told me that you told a story <i>about</i> me. About me and my love of a popular song that makes me dance ever.single.time. And you chuckled in the telling.<br />
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Or that day you called all my phone numbers trying to find me to talk about a lunch meeting you'd just had. The nights that we looked in the fridge together and figured out food. Side by side, laughing at dogs on the internet. Watching all the bracket-busting basketball. For the love of busted <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2012/03/brackets.html" target="_blank">brackets</a>!<br />
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And <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/03/mama-said-thered-be-days-like-this.html" target="_blank">that Friday</a> I came home and yelled and yelled until <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/02/12-years-of-chocolate.html" target="_blank">the dog</a> was hiding under the table and you just stood and listened until the yelling was over. Then we talked late and long about organizational behavior and communications styles and career dreams. That is our language.<br />
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30 days of side-by-side co-work. It's just a snapshot really. A month in the middle of decades. We've learned to leave room for each other's busy seasons of projects and deadlines. We talk numbers and HR and leadership styles.<br />
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And on the unincorporated weekends, we've also learned that when there's ax-wielding to be done, it should be you, but hanging upside down in a footer hole to <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2012/03/stones.html" target="_blank">dig out stones</a>? All me. That you make a mean chili, but I can rock a <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2013/06/strawberry-pie-with-gingersnap-crust.html" target="_blank">strawberry pie</a>. And that we can carry the really heavy things together.<br />
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<span class="pibfi_pinterest" style="display: block; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20px; position: relative;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="border-width: 1px; display: inline;"><img alt="MarriageLetters" class="wp-image-7168 alignleft" src="http://therunamuck.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/MarriageLetters-598x600.jpg" height="200" style="-webkit-transition: opacity 0.2s ease-out; border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; max-width: none; padding: 4px; transition: opacity 0.2s ease-out;" title="" width="200" /></span></span><span class="xc_pin" style="-webkit-transition: opacity 0.2s ease-out; background-image: url(http://therunamuck.com/wp-content/plugins/pinterest-pin-it-button-for-images/ppibfi_button.png); cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 50px; left: 217px; margin-left: -1px; opacity: 0; position: absolute; top: 5px; transition: opacity 0.2s ease-out; width: 80px;"></span></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20px;">Marriage Letters by <a href="http://sethhaines.com/marriage/marriage-letters-on-co-laboring/" target="_blank">Seth</a> and <a href="http://therunamuck.com/2014/05/05/marriage-letters-how-we-co-labor/" target="_blank">Amber Haines</a> go up the first Monday of every month. They </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20px;">believe “when we bless our own marriage, we bless the marriages of others.” </span></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20px;">The Marriage Letter prompt for April: How We Co-Labor.</span></div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-56495219026660986492014-04-04T11:54:00.000-04:002014-04-04T17:11:20.364-04:00On being or not being a writerI read <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2014/04/five-minute-friday-writer/" target="_blank">Lisa-Jo's post</a> this morning and I realized that I might not want to write that badly.<br />
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<b><i>"But here’s the thing – if you love to write, if you need to write, if you have to write – you will." </i></b></blockquote>
This week, when <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/surprised-by-motherhood-lisa-jo-baker/1116271960?ean=9781414387857" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">her first book</a> showed up on doorsteps all over the world, she talked about that writing process.<br />
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She knew she had a story to tell, and she <i>"called my mother in law. Prayer partner, built in encourager, she committed to be with me in spirit every 5 a.m. when I was dragging myself out from under the warm covers and into the quiet playroom to tap out my story, before I thought anyone would ever read it. <b>I do not like early mornings.</b> But I knew she would be up too, getting ready for school, waiting to hear from me about how the writing went. So I’d pull my crazed hair into a ponytail, slip on my glasses, and sit for a few uninterrupted hours of remembering the days I thought I never wanted to be anybody’s mother." </i><br />
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I say I'm too busy with this job and life and and and, but the truth is that I don't steal the time. The why of that truth will haunt me for the next few days as I work with God to uncover the hidden things that keep me from stealing minutes, hours, time.<br />
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The investment of time in a dream that feels like a shadow.<br />
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Maybe it's fear. Maybe I have some false image of writers as thoughtful and lyrical and I am not those things. Maybe my story - my words - are not enough. Maybe I don't want it enough to crawl out of bed at 5 a.m. each morning.<br />
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I don't know the answer. Not yet. But I know the question now. So we start there.<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #993300; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'Book Antiqua', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;">* </span><i style="color: #993300; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'Book Antiqua', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;">Linking with <span style="color: #993300;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/" target="_blank">Lisa-Jo Baker</a></span> today, where we write for five minutes and then leave it alone whether it’s just right or not.</i>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-12255482263778008412014-03-21T12:16:00.002-04:002014-03-21T13:46:05.690-04:005 Minute Friday - Joy<a href="http://thegypsymama.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://thegypsymama.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://thegypsymama.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/5-minute-friday-1.jpg" height="100" width="99" /></a><br />
Joy. I hear that word today and all I can think is "there is no joy in Mudville tonight. Mighty Casey has struck out."<br />
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My soul aches with the heartbreak of loved ones. People around me are complaining and kvetching about something as ridiculous as the weather. The dirty, left-over snow that persists even on this second day of spring. While those I love are dealing with harsh realities of life. Broken, struck out life.<br />
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Mudville - an entire town's hopes for joy pinned to one man and his bat. And he didn't deliver. Human. Imperfect. Joy struck out, struck down by one wrong swing. A poor choice. A pile of hurt.<br />
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Mighty Casey - all our human efforts - can't deliver joy. Joy is born out of hope, and all our human striving can not produce hope.<br />
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And in the midst of this gray, ice-encrusted non-spring day, a visitor stops by with a vase of daffodils and I'm reminded that this season WILL pass. That there will be spring. New life. Hope. Joy. Because there is One. One who loves perfectly. One who forgives fully. One who redeems all. One who draws near to the brokenhearted. One who saves the crushed in spirit.<br />
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The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and <br />
saves those who are crushed in spirit. ~ Psalm 34:18<br />
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He heals the brokenhearted<br />
and binds up their wounds. ~Psalm 147:3</div>
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Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. ~ Romans 12:12 </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #993300; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'Book Antiqua', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;">* </span><i style="color: #993300; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'Book Antiqua', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;">Linking with <span style="color: #993300;"><a href="http://lisajobaker.com/" target="_blank">Lisa-Jo Baker</a></span> today, where we write for five minutes and then leave it alone whether it’s just right or not.</i>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-44872766040571726252014-03-18T23:11:00.000-04:002014-03-22T13:04:19.842-04:00Zero to 60During the recent winter Olympics, there was a lot of talk about start times. The winter sports are filled with fast starts... snow board cross, speed skating, bobsled, luge, super G... In these instances, the start matters. But one bump. A skid. A small thing crashes all hope.<br />
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Sometimes, there are slow starts - a ramping up to full speed that takes time and energy - like ocean going vessels. They chug and strain to reach a level of unstoppable inertia. While there is no glamour in the slow start, there is diligence and perseverance.</div>
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We humans. We gravitate to the fast starts. We jump in with both feet. We honor speed and drama. We glorify the fast talking, fast moving, fast acting, fast cooking, fast forwarding. We see fast as right, convenient, committed. And maybe there's truth to that, but it's <b>becomes a lie</b> the minute we say that anything different is failure.</div>
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Because that big ole barge is <b>also</b> a thing to be reckoned with - all rusty and barnacled. It may be slow to start. Changes in course are plotted, plodded, intentional. Getting under way can take longer, but once its moving... Oh the power of it. Headed straight into the biggest waves, crossing the longest distances. And it CAN. NOT. BE. STOPPED. Not easily.</div>
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We should dare to see the beauty of perseverance and diligence. Of slow, steady starts. Of incremental course corrections. We should value those. </div>
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>perseverance produces. </b></span>(Romans 5:3-4)</blockquote>
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There are days I feel more like a barge and less like a bobsledder. Maybe you do too. Take heart. You and I were created in the image of God Almighty and He loves us. </div>
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<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/03/the-one-thing-you-absolutely-must-do-today-letgoofthelie/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><img alt=" http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/03/the-one-thing-you-absolutely-must-do-today-letgoofthelie/" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SfAhkwJQOU55I7s6O5M840DPP8ppB-YeM5UxQskbtergFwZ_q18N57FJtD9fI1ncz0waVe-3OwlXaIAh8S-1LpJXN7lv2Jyzdf9JsQ0NRmaVqX8pJ_HUnxER6lPLurERHSnBCjnKLmzd/s1600/lie-crushing+truth.jpg" height="456" width="640" /></a></div>
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Just read this great article: <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/nine-practical-pointers-for-plodders" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Nine Practical Pointers for Plodders</a> by Desiring God.</div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-41351849285523628712014-03-15T17:23:00.001-04:002014-03-16T00:47:24.613-04:00Partial to this playground<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, <br />
places to play in and pray in"<br />~ John Muir</span></div>
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Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8691142569466077928.post-41732330518898277152014-03-15T12:49:00.000-04:002014-03-16T00:31:01.582-04:00Mama said there'd be days like thisYesterday was a trifecta of frustrating - health, work and home.<br />
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My lungs rebelled first thing in the morning, causing me to scramble for an inhaler I haven't used in more than a year. At work, I'd been given a task that seemed straightforward, but found that (unintentionally) I'd been set up to fail. Oh! how I <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/02/5-minute-friday-choose.html" target="_blank">love to get it right</a>, and this was not that. At home, we received notification that there is a proposal to develop the land behind us. Land that we thought was designated wetlands. Land that we wander and snowshoe through. <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/03/partial-to-this-playground.html" target="_blank">Land</a> with creeks and stone outcroppings and fallen trees and silence and deer and bears.<br />
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None of these things are terrible, but I hit my limit yesterday. I let <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/2014/02/thankfulness-when-we-have-to-navigate.html" target="_blank">my circumstances</a> get the better of me. And I called my mom.<br />
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Of course, she is obligated to answer the phone because she is my mother, but she also provides <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=proverbs+11%3A14&version=ESV" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">wise counsel</a>. And she told me three things:<br />
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1. <b>There are days like this.</b> I don't think she meant to be funny, but there is something inherently comical when <i>mama said there'd be days like this</i>. (you know you just sang that in your head.) She made me laugh. She didn't deliver some version of 'it's not that bad,' but rather she confirmed that some days just suck (although, she'd NEVER. EVER. use that word).<br />
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2. <b>Listen to those who affirm you.</b> In this situation, she was referring to <a href="http://fruitsaladplease.blogspot.com/search/label/marriage" target="_blank">my spouse</a> who is business-savvy and also loves me more than I deserve.<br />
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3. <b>Go back to the Truth you know.</b> She let me cry and she confirmed I was having a gross day, but then she pointed me back to the truth of Scripture.<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://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+4:8" rel="nofollow" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4bA7yyIKKmd-GNmE6UbEJIORjIJpfu1fQdHbiQf2zpS3s2u6SDFQIgJg-WkWlrC0divjmMqDpdns7PUsQl6frChbwOiJl4CoBGxu0iYLV0GKTygcS-T4d_HMhKO1CfemGiegxqakCrcrc/s1600/Phil48.jpg" height="640" width="352" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lovely piece hangs in my entryway. I found it at HomeGoods.</td></tr>
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These words are from my favorite book. I've read Philippians over and over. I've memorized vast portions of it. I've led groups through it. I've listened to podcasts about it. There is such joy and hope in it's four short chapters. <br />
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But yesterday, my love of this verse got buried under a pile of life's rubble. My mother, acting as a spiritual first responder, unearthed the treasure of it and handed it to me with love and kindness. An act that was pure and lovely and excellent. Today, I'll think about that.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02820112161039562696noreply@blogger.com3