tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63751191823116684242024-03-13T05:34:31.427-05:00Treasure from the Junk DrawerSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-46822310923903480882023-04-23T21:25:00.003-05:002023-04-23T21:29:32.573-05:00Eighteen.<div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-style: italic;">For Sydney on her 18th birthday, with love. </span></div><div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen is windows opened wide,</div><div><span> </span>a hint of springtime on the breeze;</div><div><span> <span> </span></span>When hope wells up</div><div><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>with joy and love and every possibility. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen is sunshine on her face,</div><div><span> </span>strength in her arms,</div><div><span> <span> </span></span>and feet that take</div><div><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>her dance out to the world. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen is leveling up!</div><div><span> </span>With gifts revealed as life unfolds;</div><div><span> <span> </span></span>A flower in bloom</div><div><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>for everyone to see.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eighteen steps through the door, </div><div><span> </span>out to the path.</div><div><span> <span> </span></span>She trusts the One who wrote her book</div><div><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>to lead her and make everything come true. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>~ Sara Shull ~ </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyqrfjGBQDBvdyIU4BYenZMI_M7K7-rBok1m8JvV2Etoots8-PMQPTs6v7sjLKZ0DQ4XzQ7Ck0mcI6u0y3Zyfj1mWxLMutTYhM1DuR5KH4WbxgfJ1Idm6lwub5Hh73Y9A5ne_Jw8VMa4Uk4YtnW2KTzBxQ3oVAJ5NcbLwP98RdM6A3cVMeAiIjzS09g/s3522/8C0F46D6-6EB5-4ACA-B1A1-879A038086B4_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3522" data-original-width="2756" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyqrfjGBQDBvdyIU4BYenZMI_M7K7-rBok1m8JvV2Etoots8-PMQPTs6v7sjLKZ0DQ4XzQ7Ck0mcI6u0y3Zyfj1mWxLMutTYhM1DuR5KH4WbxgfJ1Idm6lwub5Hh73Y9A5ne_Jw8VMa4Uk4YtnW2KTzBxQ3oVAJ5NcbLwP98RdM6A3cVMeAiIjzS09g/w313-h400/8C0F46D6-6EB5-4ACA-B1A1-879A038086B4_1_201_a.heic" width="313" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>(Art credit, pen and watercolor: Ruthie Shull) </i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-48197641384200227362016-12-23T19:58:00.003-06:002023-04-03T15:06:49.785-05:00Merry Christmas, Mr. Friend... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few days ago, I had the most extraordinary visit with my dear neighbor, Mr. Friend. I don't know if he thought it was extraordinary. But it knocked me right out of the ordinary, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.<br />
<br />
It was my first visit to see Mr. Friend since his older brother, age 96, passed away after a long illness with a lot of suffering. Now, our Mr. Friend is the last surviving sibling of a group of ten. His siblings were very close growing up and throughout their lives. He seems to be handling this well, but I told him that it makes me think of my own group of eleven kids. One of the things they love about being in a big family is the idea that they will never have to be alone in life unless they want to be. There will always be someone to call, to help, to live with, to rely on in an emergency. Really thinking it through to the time that one of our children might be 93-years-old and all alone out of all our immediate family made me get all teary, and made him get all teary, and then we shared a hug and cried a little more before wiping our eyes, smiling, and going on to a more cheerful subject... Christmas!<br />
<br />
Me: "So, are you going to be going out anywhere on Christmas?"<br />
Mr. Friend: "Well... I certainly hope not! My niece wants me to go with her to her family. But, driving all that way south of the cities on bad roads and in snow storms... they keep bugging me about it and think it would be good for me!"<br />
Me, smiling: "That's because we all love you. Everyone wants you to come over."<br />
Mr. Friend: "Yes, well. But, Christmas is just for kids anyway. All that...'what gift for him'... 'what gift for her'... even for the adults! All that money! And parents telling lies all the time to make their kids behave... it's just not right. All that Santa stuff, I mean. "<br />
Me, laughing: "Well, OK. I'll just call you Scrooge and NOT tell you we were hoping you might come over for dinner the day after Christmas, that's when we are doing our dinner. It was OK at Thanksgiving, wasn't it?"<br />
Mr. Friend, laughing: "Well, I guess that's ok. It was good to catch up. But, I don't like going out anymore in the bad weather."<br />
<br />
(We sat quietly together for a little bit.)<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend, talking again: "What I don't understand is why we give presents at Christmas to our own families and make a big fuss. They didn't have anything like Christmas at all when Jesus was alive or his disciples either. Someone told me that. Is there something in the Bible about people giving presents to Jesus? I thought I remembered that and that would be ok, to give presents to Jesus."<br />
<br />
Me, surprised: "Well, yes! Don't you know that part? I'm not sure that's why we give gifts to each other, but yes... Wise men from the East... traveling far...following the star... bringing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the new baby King. The great King of the Jews they knew had been born because they saw his star when it rose in the East?"<br />
<br />
(Me thinking to myself, wow... how DID they know so much about that, believe it enough to travel to Israel?? They saw a star and knew a King had been born in Israel??)<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend: "Yes, I think I remember something about that, but I didn't know if that was a real part or part of the made-up part of the story. You know how people are always making stories bigger and bigger, and I know they make up parts on the TV when they show it on TV. Do you think any of that really happened? Or do you think people just made it up."<br />
Me: "I do! I think it is the Truest Story that's ever been told! I really do. I mean that with all my heart... I think the parts that are in the Bible are the real story."<br />
<br />
We talked a little bit on a historical level about there being no doubt that Jesus was a real person, and that we know when he lived, and that it's supported not only from inside the Bible, but from other known history as well. He guessed that was right. He believes the Bible, he just thinks a lot of people mess up what is in the Bible and what isn't – an opinion I certainly share.<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend; "Well, Ok, then. What part of the Christmas story is in the Bible then?"<br />
<br />
And so, hardly believing it could be true that this 93-year-old Swedish farmer really didn't know the Christmas story, I tried to organize my thoughts so I could tell this True Story in the right way, even if I did have to tell it from memory and figure out where to begin.<br />
<br />
I told him about part of the story being in the Gospel of Luke. And part of the story being in the Gospel of Matthew. And an important thing about this True Story is that it doesn't start Once Upon a Time like a fairy tale. It starts at a very specific time, with real Emperors and real Kings and other known people mentioned in written histories and old documents. And both Luke and Matthew tell us a lot about Jesus's family... his family goes back to King David (have you heard of King David? Sort of? Ok)... and even back further to Abraham, and Noah, and Adam. It even lists some of the mothers in the genealogy, which is unusual. The genealogies tell us that the human family of Jesus was very real, he has a real history and he came to us here in a real place and a real time. And it's a time in history you can figure out because of Roman history and how good they were at keeping records.<br />
<br />
Me: "Is this all making sense?"<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend shrugs, but sits up close to listen and makes a "go on" motion with his hand.<br />
<br />
"Ok. Well, that's one reason Jesus ended up in Bethlehem anyway, because the Romans were taking a census and were making people travel all over the place to make sure they got counted properly. Mary and Joseph travelled to Bethlehem together, because of the census. Well, wait.. I don't think Mary really had to be there, Joseph had to go back to his original hometown. But maybe Joseph didn't want to leave her at home, or maybe she didn't want to be left at home... you know, because of the scandal of her being pregnant before they were married. But really, she did have to be there... because of the prophecies about where the Messiah was going to be born. They weren't thinking about the prophesies, it's just that there really are dozens, maybe hundreds of prophesies about Jesus in the old testament and some of the interesting things about the Christmas story happened just the way the prophesies said it would happen. Some of the prophesies are mentioned specifically in the Gospels when they are telling this story."<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend, very interested: "Well. I wondered how he ended up in such an out of the way place!"<br />
<br />
Me, trying again to organize my thoughts: "Right. So right when he was born, in Bethlehem... angels, a lot of angels, appeared to some shepherds who were nearby in some fields with their sheep, at night time. And the angel of the Lord told them the good news about the baby's birth, a Savior who is Christ the Lord, and they told the shepherds to go and find the baby lying in a manger - and they went to find him right away and did find him - just like the angels had said... they found Mary and Joseph and a baby lying in a manger. This is the part you always see in Nativity scenes."<br />
<br />
He nods. I still can't believe he doesn't already know this story by heart. I'm wondering what I'm leaving out.<br />
<br />
Me:"Ok, so the part you are asking about is actually in the other book, in Matthew's book. He tells the story about wise men who see a star and somehow know that a child has been born who will be King of the Jews. They travel a long distance to find this King, and they assume that the King of the Jews will be in Jerusalem, so they go to the palace in Jerusalem and ask to see the child... and the interesting thing is... they want to worship the child! They somehow know that this child is not just a normal baby. They seem to know this child is the long awaited Messiah that the Jewish people have been waiting for..."<br />
<br />
(I'm getting sort of choked up telling this story at this point. It is an amazing experience telling this story to someone who really hasn't heard it before! Telling it like it is real news! It's pretty amazing news and an incredible story!)<br />
<br />
Me, continuing: "But, here is the bad part. There is no new baby king in Jerusalem, and the king the wise men went to see was a very wicked king. He was very concerned about this news and seemed to believe it was true right away. He found out from his advisors where the Christ was to be born, where he would be, according to the scriptures. They told him it would be in Bethlehem, where Jesus really was... and then the wicked king told the wise men to go find the baby and come back and tell him where the baby could be found. The wicked king told the wise men he wanted to worship the baby, too. But he was really lying about that. He actually wanted to destroy the baby, so his own kingship wouldn't be threatened. "<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend, eyes wide... shocked!<br />
<br />
Me, tears in my eyes: "I know! He was a very wicked man. So the wise men DO find baby Jesus and they do bring him presents of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Royal gifts, for a King, not just for a baby. Well, he probably wasn't a little tiny baby anymore - this was some time after his birth, I think. I've heard that his star appeared when he was born, and that is why the wicked king asked what time the star appeared - so he could do this next thing. I don't even want to tell you, because it is really, really bad. Anyway, the wise men are warned in a dream from God not to go back to the wicked king and they don't go back, but the bad king does the next part anyway. The wicked king sent soldiers to Bethlehem and told them to kill all the baby boys up to the age of 2 years old... (I'm holding back tears and Mr. Friend is on the edge of his seat) - and they did it. They really did kill those baby boys.<br />
<br />
(The horror of this is really hitting me. Mr. Friend can't believe it. He obviously has never heard of this before).<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend: "But Jesus!? What?"<br />
<br />
Me, remembering the next part. "No, no, he's ok. He got away. God sent a dream to Joseph to tell him to take the boy, his mother , and himself and go away to Egypt. He had dreams from God before and they had all come true, and so, I think the Bible says they left - right that night of the dream... they got up and left and so they weren't there when the soldiers came."<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend, looking relieved but still listening for all he's worth.<br />
<br />
Me: "Well, you know we were talking about the gifts that people brought to Jesus? There is a tradition that Joseph used the gold to finance their travel to Egypt, but I don't know if that part is true. There is another tradition about the frankincense that I don't remember. And I think that the myrrh was possibly used during his burial, when he was crucified, before he rose from the dead. That part is tradition. The gifts aren't mentioned again in the Bible that I know of. Anyway - they stayed in Egypt until Joseph had another dream that it was safe to go back home, that's the real Bible story again. The evil king had died. But they didn't go back to Bethlehem, they went back to a town called Nazareth, where Joseph and Mary lived before going to Bethlehem. And that actually fulfilled another prophesy, because the Old Testament tells that the Christ shall be called a Nazarene. It really is neat how many things about the birth of Jesus can be found in the prophesies. It helps us believe that it is true."<br />
<br />
By the end of this - we both had tears in our eyes again, and he said. "Well, I really hope it's all true. I mean all of it. I think about it every day. I have a lot of questions as soon as I see Jesus."<br />
<br />
I asked him if I could pray for him.<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend: "Well, what do I have to do?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Nothing. You just have to hold my hands and don't worry if you can't hear me very well with my head bowed down. God can hear me."<br />
<br />
Mr. Friend, held out his hands.<br />
<br />
After that we were both sort of crying again. It was a very tearful visit! Nothing like any other visit of all our visits in the past 13 years. We went on to talk about a lot of things that he was wondering about. Some questions I could answer. Some questions I couldn't answer. All questions that Jesus can answer. Lord, please answer all his questions!!<br />
<br />
And then we went on to talking about cell phones! Because he had been wondering about that as well.<br />
<br />
Did I think he could learn to use one?<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
<br />
So I showed him how easy it is to make a call to my "Favorites". I showed him how to check the weather. I had to teach him what kind of touch to use on the touch screen. Just touch the App lightly. The what? The App. What's an App? Well, think about it like a special TV channel. Each one does it's own specific thing. One is a clock. One is the weather. One is a compass. One is for games. This one is for photos and this one is a camera! Yes, a camera.<br />
<br />
And we took Mr. Friend's first selfie.<br />
<br />
And he agreed to at least think about coming over for dinner, because it doesn't hurt to think about things. <br />
<br />
I certainly left his home thinking about things.<br />
<br />
It was an extraordinary visit.<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-61154645719858451262016-02-23T13:55:00.000-06:002016-02-23T15:44:01.704-06:00Unexpected thaw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X51VjWmgOH0/TyGD9oBVlnI/AAAAAAAAAcw/ZHNkcLIPuT0/s1600/100_4505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X51VjWmgOH0/TyGD9oBVlnI/AAAAAAAAAcw/ZHNkcLIPuT0/s400/100_4505.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Unexpected thaw<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The frozen giants were surprised to hear the dripping water.<br />
The gentle sounds creep into sylvan dreams.</div>
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The spluttering rivulets.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><br />
The burble of little
streams cutting through the ice along the road.</div>
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Squirrels swoop up their tails to dance across the softening
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stopping in dramatic pose to sniff the sweetness on the air. </div>
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On tiptoes,
they leap, avoiding puddles in their daily path. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The trickles barely graze the woody minds. </div>
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Like distant
sounds of breakfast way downstairs on Sunday morning. </div>
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Dozing, while joyful sun
is dancing through the window. </div>
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The cozy warmth and brightness keep eyelids
closed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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That bright sun bathes the frozen, sleeping giants with a rosy-orange glow. </div>
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Warmth begins to seep into the
heartwood; </div>
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bark expands as sap begins to flow. </div>
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Content, the giants murmur in their sleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Birds swoop out to meet the southern wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> Wild melody</o:p> bursts out in empty landscape, </div>
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the bird himself surprised to hear the sound. </div>
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Followed by a hush, solemn and still. </div>
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After a moment far longer than an echo, </div>
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All the while, the water droplets drip, the drips turn into
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the rivulets begin to widen into pools and puddles all around. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A SPLASH as children run after the dog. </div>
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Splash and stomp and
soak the boots clean through. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The laugher bounces here and there, then fades. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The trees begin to itch to stretch their spines, </div>
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and crack their bony knuckles. </div>
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But wait, the frozen giants try to think… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it can't be time for Spring?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Just let me sleep a little more. </div>
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I’ll get up soon. </div>
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I promise.</div>
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~Sara~ </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He
sends out his command to the earth;<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>his word
runs swiftly.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>he
scatters frost like ashes.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He hurls down his
crystals of ice like crumbs;<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>who can
stand before his cold?<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He sends out his word,
and melts them;<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>he makes
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-84740961696160186382015-08-15T00:11:00.001-05:002023-04-03T15:24:38.266-05:00Blurry Beauty<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VU9xZ5_1VhA/Vc6i3M_U7iI/AAAAAAAAA5k/wFYc4x2KNrU/s1600/IMG_1191.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VU9xZ5_1VhA/Vc6i3M_U7iI/AAAAAAAAA5k/wFYc4x2KNrU/s400/IMG_1191.JPG" width="400" /></a><i>Three years ago today - on August 15th, 2012 - three-month-old baby Hannah was diagnosed with Infant Leukemia and we were all plunged into the deep waters of a previously unimaginable trial. Every member of our household has been affected in profound ways. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Our oldest daughter, Grace, now a Senior in college, wrote a powerful piece about her experience that was published this past spring in the Bethel University literary journal <b>Coeval.</b> Reading it reminds me of the darkest days surrounding Hannah's initial diagnosis, when any attempt to look forward was shrouded in a dense fog of fear and uncertainty. And it expresses the joy we experience in having Hannah with us now, happy and whole. And it also points to the brightest Hope, regardless of our current joys or trials. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
Grace has given me permission to share it with all of you who have prayed and loved us so well through the past three years - such a long time to remain faithful through another family's journey. Each and every one of you is a gift to all of us! I hope to write more about our overwhelming thankfulness for all of you as we celebrate three years of survival since Hannah's diagnosis -- and also a year off of treatment in just a few more days. In the meantime, it means a lot to me to be able to share Grace's words with you, and I think many of you will appreciate remembering and pondering these things together, as we celebrate three years of miraculous life for Hannah.</i></span><div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>Here it is, originally written in the Fall of 2014:</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><b>Blurry
Beauty</b><o:p></o:p></span><br />
by Grace Shull</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like waiting.
This past August I ordered a pair of Chuck Taylors from an online shoe
catalogue. They were to be my first Chucks, and I was eager to pull my hot pink
high-tops from the long, narrow box in which I knew they would arrive.
Estimated shipping time was about four days. I checked the tracking website
frequently, following the shoes’ slow progress from Kentucky to Minnesota. It
was highly unsatisfying. Movement showed up only a few times a day. I was
forced to go on with my life in between my checks. Go out to feed the ducks.
Check package. Wash my hair. Check package. Look at Face - check package -
book. Check package. Check package. Check package.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A little over two
years ago, in the same month I bought the sneakers, my family received some
shattering news.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I remember where we
were when my dad took the call from the doctor’s office. One of my sisters and
I were in the living room with him, the afternoon light coming through the big
glass window behind one of the couches. Our pediatrician explained to my dad
what my mom, sitting in a small white exam room and hugging her youngest
daughter against the shock, couldn’t possibly relay over the phone. I could see
the fear in my dad’s face as he sat there and listened, his hazel eyes flicking
back and forth as he tried painfully to grasp the doctor’s words. My stomach
grew heavy as I began to understand, from my dad’s half of the conversation,
how serious things were.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He explained to us,
after getting off the phone, that they had taken my baby sister’s blood and
counted her white blood cells. They believed she had more than 200,000 cells
per microliter of blood, which was extremely high. The most likely reason for
this, the pediatrician had told him, was that Hannah had leukemia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Pain squeezed my
chest, and I gasped, tears jumping to my eyes. No. It couldn’t be. Not my
little sister. She was only three months old. She couldn’t have cancer. There
had to be another explanation. They’d miscounted her cells. Something else,
something weird and harmless, was messing with her blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“God,” I prayed,
“please let it be something else.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I said I hated
waiting. I do. The part that really gets to me is the fact that I, as a human
being, must experience time as a linear progression from one point to the next.
Yes, I understand that this is necessary, given our creaturely limits. I know
I’m not big enough to contain and comprehend all eternity at once. I get that.
Sometimes one moment at a time is almost too much to handle. Still, following a
timeline is hard. I want to jump ahead for a peek at what’s next, but I’m stuck
here. It’s a little like flipping through a photo album, where every moment has
its own snapshot, but you can’t look ahead. You can look back all you want, if
you thumb through the pages of memory. Sometimes it takes multiple tries to see
everything that’s there in those old photos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My mom and dad went
with my sister to the hospital and began to watch and wait, hour after anxious
hour. They tested her blood again, and the diagnosis was confirmed. Hannah had
acute leukemia. The first blood count <i>had</i> been off - it had been much
too low. When her blood was counted by the children’s hospital’s more
sophisticated equipment, we learned that her true white count was over one
million. A normal count is considered 5-15,000.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fear gripped my heart
again when I was told that the enormous amount of white blood cells slogging
through her veins put her at immediate risk of a stroke. It was crucial to get
rid of some of the leukemic cells. They hooked her up to a big machine that
pulled her blood out and pumped it back in, filtering out as many white cells
as it could. They did this twice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I stayed at home with
my nine other siblings, experiencing most of this from a distance. We began to
pray together, pleading for Hannah’s life. My mom had rarely spent even a night
away from home in the past eighteen years, so it was strange as we began to run
the house without her. Several days went by, and she and Hannah remained in
intensive care. The doctors managed to reduce the number of white cells in
Hannah’s blood. The immediate danger subsided a little. She wasn’t dying <i>now</i>.
We began to exhale some of the fear that had lodged inside. A prognosis was
given: she was given about a 50-50 chance. The medical plan began to be
explained: if Hannah’s cancer cells responded to chemo, we were about to enter
into a grueling two years of treatment. An ache eased in to replace the
original sting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One. Moment. At. A.
Time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That’s a long time to
wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Another thing about
waiting is that it’s usually not a sedentary experience. Maybe princesses
locked in towers with nothing to do but brush their hair and look out the
window can manage it, but I have rarely found waiting to be a passive activity.
This is a big bummer, and a big blessing. If I had my way, I’d rather not do
anything until I get what I want. But that’s not how things work. In the
meantime, life must be lived. Time may crawl when I’m doing the laundry,
running errands, eating dinner, but if I stop trying, stop moving, stop forcing
my feet to slide off the bed every morning, time will drag like the trailing
skirt of a widow’s dress. Crying is good. Collapsing onto my fading flowered
quilt in exhaustion and telling God I can’t take another step is perfectly
fine. But I then have to let Him hold me up and help me hobble forward. Giving
up is not an option, because there is <i>always</i> hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A moment in life is
like a single photograph. When I’m inside that moment, when it’s a hard one,
and the pain has buried itself behind my ribs, it’s difficult to see everything
that’s going on. It’s difficult to focus on the glimmers of light and snatches
of laughter because the darkness feels so real, so cold and empty and black,
like a spot under the ocean that catches a bit of sunlight only on the clearest
days. In moments like these, the fear and grief cut in so deep that I’m trying
to see through tears. Usually the image is blurry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Blurry photos are
hard to make out. The colors blend and I can’t tell exactly what’s happening.
Gestures and expressions that surely mean something are just a smudge of
motion. There are probably some smiles there, but they’re hard to hold onto.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Life is a photo album
with an end I can’t yet see. When my eyes dry a bit and my hands grow a little
quieter, sometimes I riffle back through the old pages. And I begin to see
patterns. Some of the pictures look clearer than they used to, even a few of
the painful ones. When my brain unfogs for a minute, I can see that there is
some beauty here, maybe even in the dark photo I’m in right now. I can’t seem
to find it, but maybe - just maybe - it’s there. And I turn back to the current
page and try to look around more carefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two years. A long
time. Chemo was hard. Danger was never far away. Fatal infections were often
possible. Relapse was never out of the question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two years. A lot can
happen. A lot did. A lot of things, including a lot of really bad things, also
didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two years is a long
time to wait. And we waited. We ate, struggled, laughed, cried, fought,
floundered, and prayed our way through the waiting. The darkness was real. But
God, the unconquerable Light, was there, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hannah is still
alive. She is a beautiful, wonderful miracle. Her light brown hair is getting
shaggy. My mom doesn’t want to cut it. If you put the hairbands in just the
right spots, you can almost pull all her hair into three short pigtails. It’s
not yet long enough for just one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She’s the only one of
eleven kids without blue eyes. They’re “sea foam green,” as we like to call
them. Sometimes they look almost gray. They sparkle when she laughs, which she
does often. She is unique. She is special. We love her to pieces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s actually
difficult not to take her current health for granted. Even after those two long
years, it’s hard to remember to pray that she will continue to do well, that
she won’t relapse. We think all her cancer cells were killed, but it only takes
one. God forbid that there are any left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hannah is still here
with us, but there is another family at our church who just lost their father
to cancer. I know their prayers for his life were no less fervent. I know their
faith was no weaker than my own frail confidence in our faithful Savior. I know
that God loves them just as much as He loves us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But He let their
father die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It is still hard for
me to look at that photo. It’s hard to see how there is possibly light in it.
While a cancer patient’s still alive, there’s always at least that small sliver
of hope that they can make it. But once a person dies, what hope remains? What
is there possibly left worth waiting for?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To find the hope in
this photo requires looking at some other photos, too. And they’re actually
photos that haven’t been taken yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Did I say we can’t
look ahead in the photo album? Sorry, I guess I wasn’t clear. We might not be
able to see our own future photos, but there’s a “cheat sheet” album God’s
given His children to grab whenever they’re confused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s called the
Bible. It has some old photos - some really old ones - and some so bright and
colorful that the printer inks of this world can’t even begin to mimic their
vibrancy. The Promise Photos. There’s a huge wedding party in one of them. I’ve
seen a dazzling golden city in another. In one of my favorites, there is a
King, with snow-white hair and scars in His wrists, standing with lots and lots
of joy-filled people around Him. The label under the photo says, “Death shall
be no more.” Our friends’ father is in that picture - perfectly healthy and
happy. There are thousands of people there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s these sorts of
photos I have to look at, over and over again, when the pictures in our albums
are too dark and fuzzy for me to understand. It was these that kept my heart
from flying apart in those two years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So, the Chuck
Taylors? Waiting so eagerly for them must be silly compared to the heavy
waiting our friends must be pushing through, right? Of course the shoes are not
nearly as important. But God is the King of <i>all</i> joys, both great and
small. He gave Eve to Adam, and He also gave them daisies. He gave my family
many joys in those two years of waiting. Light came in sparkles and in
sunbeams, piercing through the darkness. Shoes can be rays of light sometimes,
and so can laughing little sisters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Chucks did come,
and wearing them makes me smile. So does Hannah. “Soo,” she calls my pink
sneakers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They’re <i>shoes</i>,
Hannah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Soo!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"> And I laugh.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-10104629453499689902014-08-20T00:09:00.003-05:002023-04-03T15:36:32.742-05:00Sometimes, the driveway declares the glory of God... <div><br /></div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">Our older four children are away on a trip, so this week, driving the weekly trash to the corner fell to me. And since the oldest three boys home were helping me with the task, I couldn't leave the youngest four alone in the house. We all piled into the van. Adventure ensued as the kids, gloriously free from seat belts on our own long driveway, huddled in the back to make sure the two bungee-corded, wheeled-trashbins continued to follow the van down to the corner. A minute later, the boys jumped out, set the bins neatly on the side of the road and hopped back in, laughing, and proud of their work. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">It's been good for them to be the "older kids" this week. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">A glorious evening. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">We decided to drive a hundred yards further to visit our 91-year-old neighbor for a few minutes. The long way round to turn the van back to home. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">Our neighbor and I watched the kids play tag, and run shouting around the house, as beams of slanting sun shot long shadows at their feet. Moments like this I always turn to smile at our neighbor and try to imagine him running barefoot in the grass at dusk as well. He was ninth of ten growing up in that house after all. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">On the way back home, I drove, blinded by the sun, back to the west then turned right to go up our long gravel driveway. Trees, and weeds, and all manner of wild have grown up along the left side of the drive and I was struck by the darkness of the path. Here and there a beam of light would break through and shine a patch of shining light upon the ground. But largely, night had claimed the drive. If anything, the few beams of light only intensified the darkness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I slowed before continuing back home, and thought... "Too bad we have to take this path, with all that sun still filling up the fields." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">Immediately, I thought of the past two years. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">We had to take that path. It was the only road. And although the sun still shone as bright as ever in the fields, sometimes the glimpses of light we saw only accentuated the darkness and the length of the road, curving on ahead to points unknown. And now, once having gotten used to the dimness of the path, it's a little hard to believe we have the freedom to get out again and walk back into the field and feel the heat of sun, and have even a minute to breathe again. We're shy and uncertain, even in the gentle evening light. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I had someone send me a note the first year, urging me to write again, besides the <a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/hannahireneshull">CaringBridge</a> reports. A kind note intended to encourage me. But, I just couldn't. I remembered all the promises of God, believed them more than ever in my bones, knew He was Good and True and Eternally Shining like the sun. Like the sun that shines the same whether we are blinded with glory facing West, or resting in the sunny field, or trudging down a dim uncertain road. But it's hard to speak that Praise out loud, or write it down, when hidden in the shade. </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes, even a driveway declares the glory of God.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ~Sara~</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i>The heavens declare the glory of God,</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i> and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i>Day to day pours out speech,</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i> and night to night reveals knowledge.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i>There is no speech, nor are there words,</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i> whose voice is not heard.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i> ~Psalm 19:1-3~</i></span></span><br />
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-46747073239805310692013-08-20T15:00:00.000-05:002018-12-29T21:55:05.193-06:00In hope, believe that peace will come again.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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I’m small as sand beside those waves that crash the shore. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Yet, I know
the joy of the chosen. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I know
this, though all around may seem but cold and fog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Keep me safe, O my God. Let me not be lost along the shore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Forgotten, kicked, and sifted by the sea. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p> May I be as one plucked up and held tight in your hand.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Saved for a purpose yet unseen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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And, so I stand, a witness to the wild dance of the shore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The roar of wind and waves demands I listen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My weary soul
obeys the call to rest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The setting sun, a warm wrap on my shoulders.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The glow of home
to come shines in the dusk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F1SEWM6OkMs/Ur54CcOeRtI/AAAAAAAAAfs/jL0wmcGw9mU/s1600/100_2327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F1SEWM6OkMs/Ur54CcOeRtI/AAAAAAAAAfs/jL0wmcGw9mU/s200/100_2327.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
Be still. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breath deep.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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In hope, believe
that peace will come again. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
~Sara~</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-54183543229652184102012-09-05T11:03:00.001-05:002013-12-28T10:07:43.431-06:00Baby Hannah Irene<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cDBSzmkLxLw/UEdzE39IG2I/AAAAAAAAAdY/FuB_HB5AXS0/s1600/100_8431_3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cDBSzmkLxLw/UEdzE39IG2I/AAAAAAAAAdY/FuB_HB5AXS0/s320/100_8431_3.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
On August 15, 2012, we discovered that our youngest daughter–just three and a half months old–has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Her name is Hannah Irene and if you'd like to read about our journey with her and pray with us along the way, you can find our <a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/hannahireneshull">CaringBridge Journal here</a>.<br />
<br />
Maybe you will be encouraged, as we were, by the words a friend wrote to me and our whole family.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><i>"In my darkest times of sickness, loss, and grief, the hope to which I clung is that God is Able. I love the story of Daniel's 3 friends, when facing the fiery furnace they said, "Our God is able to deliver us from your hand, even if he does not."<br /><br />God is able to deliver Hannah from the hands of cancer, even if he doesn't. Every plan he has for her is good. No one but him knows the length of her days, and nothing can take her from this earth until all the purposes for her life have been fulfilled. "Every day ordained for her was written in your book before even one of them came to be." <br /><br />May each of you find rest and comfort today in the merciful, mighty, and very able hands of Jesus."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div>
We are held in His arms and blessed by the love of Christ expressed through the hands and feet, and prayers, of our dear Brothers and Sisters. Thank you to all of you.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
~Sara~</div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-54326145025783823982012-04-12T22:20:00.002-05:002023-04-24T01:08:29.248-05:00So Teach Us to Number Our Days<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">One day, several months after our ninth baby Zac was born, I managed to get my four oldest kids close to tears after starting what seemed to be a happy conversation.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3sYLH-WufI/AAAAAAAAAFI/mNAxxq2_h9Q/s1600-h/l.GXCYctMCfnEcJQYo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3sYLH-WufI/AAAAAAAAAFI/mNAxxq2_h9Q/s200/l.GXCYctMCfnEcJQYo.jpg" width="150" /></a>"Do you know that Mr. Friend was the ninth of ten children in his family? He's just like baby Zac! They lived right there in that house where he lives now. They had even numbers, too–five boys and five girls, pretty close to our family."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Oh, everyone thought that was wonderful. We all looked at Zac and made him laugh. We thought about 87-year-old Mr. Friend being a happy baby with lots of big brothers and sisters. And they remembered happy and funny stories, too, that he has told us about his growing up time.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">We talked about that for a while, and then 6-year-old Ben asked "But, if he's got all those brothers and sisters, why does he live alone?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">"Well, he never got married and he loved farming, so he lived with his mother and father all his life and helped them farm until they died a long time ago, and his brothers and sisters all got married and moved to homes of their own. He ran that farm by himself for over thirty years. And now eight of them have died and he has one brother still living, but he (we've met him) hasn't been feeling well lately and can't come over to visit anymore."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Ben took this in matter-of-factly and went on his way, but I looked up to see my older four children standing there wide-eyed and silent. They were feeling it in their gut for the first time that eventually they too will grow up, their lives will unfold and they will be separated by time and place and circumstance and some way or another all of them would die. And Mom and Dad, too!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Lydia broke the silence. "But . . . that's so . . . sad!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">And there they were. Four children aged 15, 11, 10 and 8, near tears, looking at me and me looking back at them. Thinking.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">It's rare that I sit across the table from my old friend in that quiet house, that tidy house, that bachelor's house, where he lives alone– and not try to imagine that space filled with five young men and five young women talking and laughing while they eat their meals. Their mother sitting to the side and watching her growing and grown children, catching most of their words while she turns to comment in Swedish to her husband. In my mind the empty barn is filled again with sixty dairy cows and fifty, or sixty or one-hundred chickens and a dozen pigs are over in the yard. The diesel tractors parked in his garage are gently replaced by three teams of horses–the six of them the only animals with names on the farm. Except for the dogs, of course.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3otBcG5pWI/AAAAAAAAAFA/tqhfpJUO85Q/s1600-h/hayride_0891.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3otBcG5pWI/AAAAAAAAAFA/tqhfpJUO85Q/s200/hayride_0891.JPG" width="200" /></a>My friend grows young before my eyes as I hear stories from his youth–jumping from wood beam to wood beam on the lawn while his older brothers and father and friends built that big red barn in 1929 when he was 7-years-old. Or later, strong from daily work, when he could carry ten-gallon-pails of water in each hand to the pig pen fifty yards away from the pump. Or back further when he was a small boy, and his sister fell through the soggy land shelf by the stream in the wild area and they thought she'd drown–but they got her out safe and sound after all. Or when they'd all try to look busy doing something all the time (or at least keep out of sight) lest their dad would find some job for them to do, even the youngest set to work in the yard digging dandelions to get out every root. Or when four brothers were called up to serve in World War II, but the local draft board decided that my friend should stay at home and help their father farm, so our country would have enough to eat during the war.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Can you imagine the joy around that table the first time they ate together after all four brothers came back home alive from that war?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">He tells me where they slept when they were all still living at home–here, there and everywhere in the house depending on the hunting season or the harvest and who needed to get up at 3:00am and who could sleep in until 5:00 or even 6:00.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">I look at all the neatly placed cookware on the shelves, and pretty plates set up above, and the place where the pipe went through the wall when they used an old cook stove and wonder if his mother could ever imagine a time when that house would be still, and quiet, and tidy, and chores all finally, finally done and the house–now home to just one aged son–would nearly echo with the lack of busyness. A dish or two a day now washed in that sink, and one glass used all day long. And though the laundry is no longer done by hand, the machine is only needed once a week or so.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Five sons and five daughters and a man and a wife once occupied these rooms where my friend has lived every day of his life and where he continues to live since he retired from farming but not from life. Just my friend and one older brother are left from that generation that built that house and farm. But a patient stream of nieces, nephews, neighbors and friends pull in and out of the yard through all his days.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3osOoxepKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/eqplxqMOmq8/s1600-h/100_2798.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nyYVd0qjejU/S3osOoxepKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/eqplxqMOmq8/s200/100_2798.JPG" width="200" /></a>And as I think these things, I remember that I really should not talk so long–for my own kids are back in our house around the curve in the road. A house not quiet, or tidy and with many chores still needing to be done! This is my time to go home and live it. I look over at the ninth child born to his house, while I hold the ninth child born to my house in my lap. Old, sparkling, blue-eyes are bringing laughter into young, blue-eyes from across the table top. Laughing myself, I rise to go.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">It's hard to imagine a moment, let alone day after day when my house could ever be quiet, tidy and chores all finally, finally done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Yet, it is a certain thing that this life is fleeting. Kevin helped me realize this from the start. When we were first left alone with minutes-old, firstborn Grace in the hospital, we were both looking at her sleeping in my arms with tears in our eyes. Then he quietly said, with his hand on her head, "Tomorrow she will be burying us." It was jarring. At first I couldn't even fit that into that moment, couldn't understand his words. But I keep that in mind now that the days seem long, and the years seem short. And as much as I want my children to grow up in the shelter and safe harbor of a happy and loving home, much more do I want their foundation and source of joy and security to rest upon unshakable and eternal realities so that when their life unfolds with its joys and trials and inevitable loss they will rest upon our sure hope in God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">O Lord, teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
<br /><i>This is our 9th baby Zac and my dear friend Mr. Irwin Falk (a.k.a. Mr. Friend) on one of our many visits to his home, a short-walk country next-door to ours. Zac was born in the summer of 2009. Zac is less than one-year-old in this picture. Irwin was 87-years-old. Irwin was the 9th of 10 in his family and lived in this home his entire life.</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><i>In loving memory: Irwin Falk (September 27, 1922-August 3, 2019) </i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwDWcBhVNrN0R5SOpw5tGAmgZq9hWC0hixpl1iBVClJr9wGpohpMI7ONC8BrEsNvIyJy3Lc8xRLqMfL3FK4E9hsiuDP3OPl7T4eMfh3_plvEfwL5g9p-clEsHs-IYxaZdjvTTS-tEjxg_kzXzoitU0KmI-tf45BbWgTBedaH13fj5R19yK6G4CG7Dxw/s720/474F2553-D622-41A2-8DDE-4FD9E76A13E1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwDWcBhVNrN0R5SOpw5tGAmgZq9hWC0hixpl1iBVClJr9wGpohpMI7ONC8BrEsNvIyJy3Lc8xRLqMfL3FK4E9hsiuDP3OPl7T4eMfh3_plvEfwL5g9p-clEsHs-IYxaZdjvTTS-tEjxg_kzXzoitU0KmI-tf45BbWgTBedaH13fj5R19yK6G4CG7Dxw/w400-h300/474F2553-D622-41A2-8DDE-4FD9E76A13E1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><i><br /></i><div><i>So Teach Us to Number Our Days</i> was included in the Chapel column of <i><a href="http://thehomeschoolmagazine.com/index.php">The Old Schoolhouse ® Magazine</a></i>, Summer 2011. My writing agreement stipulated that I had to remove this article from my blog until six months after publication. I'm happy to be able to share it here again with friends and family. <br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><blockquote><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><i>"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls." 1 Peter 1:3-9</i></div></blockquote><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-1680465754912180612012-04-05T17:24:00.001-05:002012-04-05T22:55:59.865-05:00Irrepressible light on Good Friday...<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Recently, I was thinking about the meaning of communion and the symbolism of His body broken for me, and His blood poured out for me, and unexpectedly I had an upwelling of love for our Lord Jesus and His sacrifice for us. It was wonderful for affections for Him to break through the mundane superficiality of my life and the experience was received as a gift. I knew there was nothing in me that had changed. He had opened my heart and I was grateful. Heading into Holy Week and Easter weekend I was hoping that by my own observance of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and then the joyful Resurrection Sunday that I could somehow recapture those feelings I had a few weeks ago, and also, somehow think deeply and dig deeply into my heart to get the whole picture of what He has done for us, for me. Instead–I've been sleep deprived, busy, irritable and distracted and I'm flying up to Easter with only surface attention to the passing days. How like God to give me a gift when it is obviously not of my own work and then let me see what happens when I try to "make" my own experience!</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7VS5IKFm1n8/T34ZqyQWe4I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/Cc2CfsMBiaI/s1600/102_6787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7VS5IKFm1n8/T34ZqyQWe4I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/Cc2CfsMBiaI/s200/102_6787.JPG" width="200" /></a>When I was in the middle of my deeper affections a few weeks ago, I found myself reading through the Passion Week scriptures and really noticing the experience of the women who were closest to Jesus. Oh, what love! What darkness they experienced to the core of their being! And finally, what joy! They followed Him to the cross; they watched the horror unfold; they clung together; they watched their last hope fade; they watched Him suffer on the cross; they stayed until He died from crucifixion; they watched as His death was confirmed with a spear thrust to the side; they stayed to see Him taken down; they followed to see Him laid in the tomb; they left to prepare spices and ointment as darkness fell; they observed the Sabbath and left the tomb alone for agonizing hours as He lay alone, His body unprepared; they came again to anoint His body as soon as they could possibly call it dawn; they arrived to find an empty tomb; they were greatly distressed; they received the good news and explanation of the resurrection from angels; one stayed and heard the Lord Himself speak her name; they returned to the disciples to share the news of the angels and with the report of seeing Him alive... only to be received as women speaking idle talk.</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But–their story was confirmed–He appeared again, and again, and again.</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They loved, they feared, they followed, they watched, they were devastated, they were confused, they grieved, they cared, they waited, they went to care for his body–all dark, dark days. I try to imagine the darkness of their grief, but it is well beyond my experience. Then they were the first to hear the good news from angels, to find the empty tomb on the third day . . . just as He promised. Mary, lingering and thinking that her grief had been compounded by enemies stealing her Lord's body, is instead called by name by the resurrected Jesus. Her joy is well beyond what I can imagine.</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Thinking through my impossible plan to try to feel my way through the weekend really experiencing the dark leading up to Easter, and then the joy–I find that I'm never able to get to that place of grief because the joy and light keep poking in. I'm too tired to concentrate on keeping them out and feel the darkness. I know He is alive! I can't forget the Good News because it is the strength and joy of my life. I don't feel separated from my Lord during Good Friday. I am, at times, overwhelmed with what He has done to atone for sin, once for all. But death could not keep Him in the grave. His sacrifice is perfect and He conquered death for Love and His Glory. At the same time He is here with me on my superficial, tired days, leading me and carrying me and taking me where I need to be step-by-step and giving me the gifts of feeling His presence and feeling deep affection for Him when it is best for me.</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Let us remember His suffering. Let us believe in Him and receive His salvation. Let us be transformed into His bride. And if in our weakness, poor affections and pale imagination we can't grieve properly on this Good Friday for our Lord's dark day or for our sins, let us rejoice that we live on this side of Easter and that what He has accomplished is not dependent on what we do at all.</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Yes, let us rejoice this Easter and every day, for the Lord is Risen, Indeed!</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> ~Sara~</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">ps. I wrote this on Good Friday 2010, but it reflects so much of my feelings this year as well, I decided to repost. We are weak . . . Rejoice!</div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-79095428268046381142012-03-05T14:08:00.001-06:002012-03-05T14:39:40.861-06:00Awake in the dark on a full moon night<div class="line" id="p19148013_01-1" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5.5em; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: -3.5em;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
Awake in the dark on a full moon night. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Tranquil heart to match the even breath of sleep </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> throughout the house.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Peace pours through the window pane <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> and makes a lovely pool upon the floor.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Outside all is beauty, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> frozen beauty in the moon’s blue light. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Standing wrapped against the chill, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> but warm in deepest soul,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">forehead pressed against the glass to look out on the scene. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> The trees stand sentry in the night, <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Their faithful shadows long upon the snow. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Bare branched lacy silhouettes against the starry sky.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> The snow a satin gown for all the world. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> So cold. So calm. So quiet.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The hush of holy awe upon my lips,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I whisper to the night . . . <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Praise the Lord, O winter moon,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> praise Him, all you shining stars!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Praise Him, too, you highest heavens!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Let them praise the name of the Lord,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> for His name alone is exalted;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> His majesty is above earth and heaven.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> O Lord, our Lord,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> how majestic is your name in all the earth!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Praise the Lord!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> ~Sara~</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #363030; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pWn1aXdLWhw/T1Ue0X3aM4I/AAAAAAAAAdI/jNFXbqr1B2E/s1600/100_9757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pWn1aXdLWhw/T1Ue0X3aM4I/AAAAAAAAAdI/jNFXbqr1B2E/s200/100_9757.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: x-small; line-height: normal;"><i>Psalm 148~</i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div>Praise the Lord!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a>Praise the Lord from the heavens;<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> praise him in the heights!<br />
Praise him, all his angels;<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> praise him, all his hosts!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a></i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>Praise him, sun and moon,</i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i> praise him, all you shining stars!<br />
Praise him, you highest heavens,<br />
and you waters above the heavens!<br />
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</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>Let them praise the name of the Lord!<br />
For he commanded and they were </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i> created.<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a>And he established them forever and </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i> ever;<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> he gave a decree, and it shall not pass </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i> away.<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Praise the Lord from the earth,</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> you great sea creatures and all deeps,<br />
fire and hail, snow and mist,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> stormy wind fulfilling his word!<br />
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</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>Mountains and all hills,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> fruit trees and all cedars!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a>Beasts and all livestock,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> creeping things and flying birds!<br />
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</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>Kings of the earth and all peoples,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> princes and all rulers of the earth!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a>Young men and maidens together,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> old men and children!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>Let them praise the name of the Lord,<br />
for his name alone is exalted;<br />
his majesty is above earth and heaven.<br />
He has raised up a horn for his people,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> praise for all his saints,<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6375119182311668424&postID=7909542826804638114&from=pencil"></a> for the people of Israel who are near </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i> to him.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Praise the Lord!</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
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</div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-7190727490341989782012-02-22T10:47:00.009-06:002012-02-23T11:56:54.736-06:00Ash made life by Father's love<i>Thoughts in the sunshine on Ash Wednesday morning...</i><br />
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Sunlight spills across the floor,<br />
<div>Hot and piercing through the window's chill.</div><div>The dark of Winter unremembered in the light, </div><div>Strong rays soak in deep to bones and flesh.<br />
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Spring is coming! </div><div>Rejoice, O weary soul!</div><div><br />
Look to hints of glory in the thaw, </div><div>And resurrection gleams in melting rivulets. </div><div>Our frames of dust seek mercy by our holy fear, </div><div>And hope in ash made life by Father's love. </div><div><br />
</div><div> ~Sara~</div><div><br />
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<i>As a father shows compassion to his children, </i><br />
<i> so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear Him. </i><br />
<i>For He knows our frame; </i><br />
<i> He remembers that we are dust. </i><br />
<i> ~Psalm 103:13-14</i><br />
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<i>* * * </i>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-53005237422999339342012-01-28T17:09:00.001-06:002013-01-19T12:34:50.811-06:00The teaching of kindness is on her tongueProverbs 31... <i>the one about the excellent wife who is up before dawn, still burning lamp oil while prospering the house at night, and doing amazing things in business, real estate, household management, making fine clothing, helping the poor, and making the heart of her husband trust in her in every way... </i>always makes me a bit nervous. It helps to remember that she (probably) didn't do all these things every single day. And also she had those maidens to help her. I remember thinking when I had four kids, ages seven and under (and no older children), "That's it! I need some maidens around here! Where can I get some maidens?"<br />
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That chapter was part of my regular Bible reading today–so I opened the Bible to bookmark number 4, found Proverbs 31 waiting for me and began to read with a little sigh. I read all those things I just talked about and wondered if she was very likable (and yes, I know she is most likely a composite of a person, an ideal) or if she was the type of woman that other women stand back from with envious admiration mixed with a bit of fear of what she would think of them.<br />
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Then I came across a verse I don't remember ever seeing before. End of verse 25, and 26.<br />
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"...She laughs at the time to come. <b>She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue</b>."<br />
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The type of woman I always want to spend more time with.<br />
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That also reminds me of some other verses that have stuck with me over the past few months. Verses that make me want to have this type of mouth and tongue. I went back to find them in my journal . . . I have a little note with the prayer, <i>O Lord, grant these to me! </i>before a listing of these verses.<br />
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<i>A gentle tongue is a tree of life. </i><br />
<i> ~Prov. 15:4</i><br />
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<i>The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life. </i><br />
<i> ~Prov. 10:11</i><br />
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<i>For with you is the fountain of life, in your light do we see light. </i><br />
<i> ~Psalm 36:9</i><br />
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<i>The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life. </i><br />
<i> ~Prov. 13:44</i><br />
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<i>The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life. </i><br />
<i> ~Prov. 14:27</i><br />
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<i>Good sense is a fountain of life to him who has it. </i><br />
<i> ~Prov. 16:22</i><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UisOsRyl2II/TyQ9C1VWNFI/AAAAAAAAAc4/dez8mrSkWoc/s1600/100_8566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UisOsRyl2II/TyQ9C1VWNFI/AAAAAAAAAc4/dez8mrSkWoc/s200/100_8566.JPG" width="200" /></a>And reading through those again today, I remembered that I was thinking about these tree of life and fountain of life verses during Thanksgiving weekend. And I found that I had recorded in my journal an image that formed in my mind of the beauty of these verses. An image of gratefulness and thanksgiving dripping from our cupped hands, merely holding up and giving back to God<b> </b>a tiny portion of that very fountain of life that we have scooped up... that He is providing. <br />
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And I found a prayer that I had completely forgotten. A prayer I wrote for me and all of us as mothers...<b> </b>the type of mother we want to be, but how can we be? This trait of the Proverbs 31 woman that I admire the most is one we cannot gain except as a gift of His grace. A mother with wisdom, with the teaching of kindness on her tongue, a fountain of life and a tree of life for her children by the mercy of God...<br />
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<i>"...with gratefulness and thanksgiving dripping from our cupped hands. Our feet like roots standing in the stream of the fountain of life. Our arms outstretched against the winds that come, laden with fruit, laden with fruit. Our mouths speaking forth as a fountain of life. Grace held up in our cupped hands, overflowing and dripping back to the stream at our feet. A fountain of life is a gentle teaching tongue ~ making brave the fearful, making beggars and ragtag children into heirs of the King. O Lord make our desire be for your fountain of life! May we thrist for it as if death were near for lack of this fountain! May we not drink to our death, but to Life in You. By your Spirit, send us your gifts of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. Let me laugh at the dawn after sleepless nights. Show my hands and feet and weak knees how to work. And for my children, I ask that their souls be filled with your Spirit - a teacher and helper in all things. Let not one be darkness to your light. May they see light by your light. True. Piercing joy. Beauty seen and cherished. True beauty as in You. Loving Your glory and desiring to know You, know You, know You. O God, make me a faithful witness to these things ~ may I pour out my life to this task. Renew me though your everlasting living water, a fountain of life welling up and flowing out of my mouth in gentleness - a tree of life to those around me. Make this true of me <u>and my Sisters, too</u>. Show me what to shed and what to put on. In all gentleness, I beg. Amen." </i><br />
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<i> ~Sara~</i>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-40211666025284043992012-01-26T10:53:00.000-06:002012-01-26T10:53:06.370-06:00O, weary soul ~ Rejoice!<div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X51VjWmgOH0/TyGD9oBVlnI/AAAAAAAAAcw/ZHNkcLIPuT0/s1600/100_4505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X51VjWmgOH0/TyGD9oBVlnI/AAAAAAAAAcw/ZHNkcLIPuT0/s200/100_4505.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div>Sparkling, frost-dressed trees this morn;<br />
Sun breaking through the mist.<br />
Winter beauty whispers, "glory..." in this still-life season.<br />
<div> O, weary soul - Rejoice!</div><div> </div><div> ~Sara~</div><div><br />
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</div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-60932436527578956372012-01-22T23:25:00.001-06:002012-01-23T01:26:26.479-06:00You fill me with joy in Your presence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nHpbeOXo2pU/TxzrD2tzr-I/AAAAAAAAAco/tqCqfZ3-oao/s1600/100_4669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nHpbeOXo2pU/TxzrD2tzr-I/AAAAAAAAAco/tqCqfZ3-oao/s320/100_4669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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You make known to me the path of life;<br />
in your presence there is fullness of<br />
<div> joy;<br />
at your right hand are pleasures<br />
<div> forevermore.<br />
~Psalm 16:11~</div></div><div><br />
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</div><div>This is the memory verse I've been pondering this week. It is one of my favorite verses–reminding me that it is in His presence that there is fullness of joy–even though in my tired flesh and amnesia of spirit, I try to pursue joy in other things again, and again, and again.<br />
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This is also one of the few verses that I memorized years ago that I can remember easily word for word. Back then, it was a different version than the ESV that I have settled on as "my" version of choice for reading and memorizing.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have a distinct memory of standing in my old, small, cozy kitchen in the house we lived in for seven years in downtown Minneapolis. At that time, all of the kids were young and it was up to me to copy down the verses each week and I enjoyed decorating them with simple colored pencil designs and scrolling around the edges. Then I would tape them up in the kitchen or the kids' room where a few times a day I could read them over and try to work the memorizing into my day whenever I happened to look at it. This wasn't something that usually led to worship. It was more like brushing my teeth or checking the weather, by habit, to tell the truth. That day I was leaning back against a counter, looking over at the words I had written and taped up on a cabinet, and repeating them a few times. My highly systematic method for learning Bible verses...</div><div><br />
</div><div>But the Word of God is living and active ~ it does not return empty, and as I repeated this verse over and over by routine, I became aware that I was in tears, amazed by the truth in these words. God in his mercy had pierced through my distracted, fuzzy mind with the presence of His love right there with me in my kitchen with the piles of dishes. Here are those words that went out of my flesh as plain English words and at the same time by the power of the Holy Spirit, rose up in my soul as the living Word of God–indeed filling me with Joy.</div><div><br />
</div><div><i><b>You </b>have made known to <b>me</b> the </i><br />
<i> path of Life;</i></div><div><i><b> You fill me </b>with <b>Joy </b></i><br />
<i><b> </b> in<b> Your Presence.</b></i></div><div><i>With Everlasting Pleasures </i><br />
<i> at <b>Your Right Hand.</b></i><br />
~Psalm 16:11<br />
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Peter also echoes this verse, quoting it in his sermon as recorded in Acts (verse 2:28). The Old Testament verses that are quoted in the writings of the Apostles of our Lord Christ Jesus always make me sit up and pay attention.<br />
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I thank you Lord that it is You who<b> fills us with Joy </b>in your Presence. For surely, we would not have Your joy any other way.<br />
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~Sara~</div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-31475278654866354662012-01-10T18:42:00.015-06:002023-01-05T14:30:59.345-06:00The Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
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For those who want "Just the plan, please!" - here it is:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181b23; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold;"><b><i><span style="color: #181b23; font-size: 11pt;">The no-dates, you're-never-behind...</span></i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #181b23;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181b23; font-weight: bold;"><b><span style="color: #181b23;">Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan:</span></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zup43586yVo/TwzXANJQdqI/AAAAAAAAAY4/Qn8dc8DWYN8/s1600/100_3022.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zup43586yVo/TwzXANJQdqI/AAAAAAAAAY4/Qn8dc8DWYN8/s200/100_3022.JPG" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed";">Sara’s Five Bookmarks </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed";">• </span></b></span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">Read one chapter per day, per bookmark. At the end of a book, start the next book on the bookmark. At the end of the bookmark list, go back to the beginning. </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">Use all five bookmarks, or pick one or two for now - just keep moving the bookmarks a chapter at a time. If you miss a day or more… no catching up! Just find your bookmarks and jump back into the Word right where He has led you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">1. <b>Gospels and Acts</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">• Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts ( 117 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">2. <b>Books of Moses and Psalms</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">• Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Psalms • (337 chapters) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">Note: I recommend starting with Psalms if you are beginning this in January and you've tried many plans over the years - just to avoid reading Genesis again first, in the dead of winter.</span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">3. <b>Poetry and Prophets</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">• Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi • (312 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">4. <b>Wisdom and History</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">• Proverbs, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings, 1 & 2Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther • (280 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">5. <b>New Testament Epistles</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">• Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, Hebrews, James, 1 & 2 Peter, 1, 2 & 3 John, Jude, Revelation • (145 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">Note: One thing I have found helpful in using the bookmark system is to make a tiny dot (.) at the end of each chapter when I finish it, so that if the bookmarks fall out or if I miss several days of reading, (or if they are taken out and chewed up by a baby–as happened more than once to mine), I can easily find my place and get going again. I like to read a paper rather than digital Bible so the tiny dot markings work well for me.</span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CO_Bra3Pt4k/TwzXM8XnhuI/AAAAAAAAAZA/lny4IoFCPKk/s1600/100_3055.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CO_Bra3Pt4k/TwzXM8XnhuI/AAAAAAAAAZA/lny4IoFCPKk/s200/100_3055.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;">My goal is not to get through these lists in one year, but simply to read widely and consistently in the Bible.<i><b> (Although if one did read these five bookmark lists consistently, one would get through all the Bible at least once, and the New Testament books at least twice- even skipping 28 days entirely.)</b></i> One of my own personal rules is<i> "never try to catch up,"</i> just pick up the Bible and read where the bookmarks are, and abide in the Word that day by His unmerited grace. </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><b>By the grace of our Lord Jesus, may we all be eager to enjoy the privilege of reading and dwelling in the Word – for our joy and His glory. Blessings! <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><b> -Sara-</b></span><span style="font-family: "papyrus condensed"; font-size: 11pt;"><b> </b> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "papyrus condensed";"><b><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed";">If you'd like the Sara's Five Bookmarks .pdf (and these instructions)</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "papyrus condensed";"><b><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed";">to print and cut out at home. . . </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "papyrus condensed";"><b><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: "papyrus condensed";">E-mail me at sara.junkdrawer@gmail.com </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e;"><b><i>Note: Sara's Five Bookmarks adapted from: </i></b></span><br />
<b><i>Professor Grant Horner’s Bible Reading System (The Ten Lists)</i></b></div>
<i>(Which I highly recommend if you can read ten chapters a day in this season of your life!) His system is fully explained in this document…. He encourages the sharing of his system and his bookmark lists: <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System">http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System</a></i></div>
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<b>*Nothing special about “Sara’s” bookmarks . . . </b>just The Ten Lists combined in a way that makes sense to me. All books of the Bible are included on one of the Five Bookmarks. Read 1 - 5 in order, they start and end in the New Testament, vary in genre, and over time the readings line up in different seasons and with different scripture passages.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e; font-family: inherit;">Why FIVE Bookmarks, where the original idea came from, and my thinking on it... <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/12/tis-seasonfor-bible-reading-plans.html">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e; font-family: inherit;">Tips on using the plan <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/12/tips-for-using-bookmarks-reading-plan.html">here</a>.</span></div>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-3653878571767769272012-01-09T00:12:00.003-06:002014-08-18T20:14:29.911-05:00How beautiful are the feet...<i></i><br />
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>For "everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." </i></i></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? </i></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to hear without someone preaching? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to preach unless they are sent? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!"</i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i> ~Romans 10:13-15~</i></i></div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
The first time I heard this verse referenced, I didn't realize it was a verse at all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mStGrO4JOfo/Twp48QUEGFI/AAAAAAAAAX4/-l2hP1pqpBU/s1600/100_8513_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mStGrO4JOfo/Twp48QUEGFI/AAAAAAAAAX4/-l2hP1pqpBU/s200/100_8513_2.JPG" height="98" width="200" /></a>I was just out of college and we'd been married two years (no children in sight) when we moved into married student housing at Southwestern Seminary for Kevin to begin working on a music ministry degree. One of the first people we met was Joe. Joe was a big guy and he was building bookshelves in his front yard the day we moved in. In fact, we bought a bookshelf from him that we call "Joe's Bookshelf" to this day. Designed to be the largest standing bookshelf possible that could both go through the front door of our duplexes and be maneuvered into an upright position, dozens of "Joe's Bookshelves" were to be found throughout the neighborhood. Twenty years later, it's still the largest and sturdiest bookshelf in our home. Joe (who did not look like any Pastor I had ever met) was the Pastor of a church serving the homeless in downtown Ft. Worth, Texas––and the ministry he worked with was called Beautiful Feet Ministries. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Laugh at me if you want, but not knowing the Romans passage above, or the Isaiah 52 passage containing these words––I had a vague impression of Jesus washing the (beautiful?) feet of the disciples and encouraging his disciples, likewise, to serve others. It's funny now, but I clearly remember puzzling a few seconds over the name of the ministry and I wondered what a church for the homeless would be like. For some reason I still have a mental image of Joe and his wife serving hot dogs under a bridge somewhere. Obviously, I had a lot to learn about the Bible...and about non-traditional ministries and churches.<br />
<br />
In more recent years, this passage (fortunately now familiar to me) has been sweet in my mind as I daily pray for dear friends of ours who are serving as missionaries in a place so closed to the preaching of the Good News that I hesitate to mention even the initials of their names–and certainly, I can't mention the remote town in the country where they are serving–because I am afraid that to do so might endanger their lives and the lives of their small children. The path they are walking while following the Lord Jesus and sharing His good news in this dark land is hard. Daily... it is hard. <br />
<br />
Their dusty, bruised, and weary feet are indeed beautiful.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rgSc53dnGqs/Twp5Md7jW3I/AAAAAAAAAYA/b9CnV9FUvhM/s1600/100_9759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rgSc53dnGqs/Twp5Md7jW3I/AAAAAAAAAYA/b9CnV9FUvhM/s200/100_9759.JPG" height="92" width="200" /></a>This passage from Romans is the memory verse that our church is working on this week, and inspired by a new resolve to memorize scripture as a family (as well as a new, super-amazing USB microphone that works with Garage Band on his iPad to create and record truly amazing music right here in our living room...ahem...) my husband has put the memory verse to song for the second week in a row. And, since I now have the ability to easily and quickly post the song on this blog, I will. <br />
<br />
Because this song is another new favorite.</div>
<div>
<br />
You can <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hyCZPyAD8A">Listen Here</a>.<br />
<br />
Kevin had our friends in mind when he wrote this song. You'll hear our love for them in the chorus about the beautiful feet.</div>
<br />
~Sara~<br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>For "everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." </i></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to hear without someone preaching? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>And how are they to preach unless they are sent? </i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i>As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!"</i></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><i> ~Romans 10:13-15~</i></i></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<i>How beautiful upon the mountains</i><br />
<div>
<i> are the feet of him who brings good news,</i></div>
<div>
<i>who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness,</i></div>
<div>
<i> who publishes salvation,</i></div>
<div>
<i> who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”</i></div>
<div>
<i> ~Isaiah 52:7</i></div>
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Memory Verse Resources: For those who are interested in the memory verse program that our church has designed and uses, information can be found here...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.hopeingod.org/resources/scripture-memory/fighter-verse-program">Fighter Verse Program</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">. A list of this year's suggested weekly verses can be found on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.hopeingod.org/resources/scripture-memory/fighter-verses">this page</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> on our church's website (our family prints that list, which includes the scripture texts, and we make our own resources out of it). For professionally designed curriculum resources related to the program, go here... </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://childrendesiringgod.org/resources/resource.php?id=2&productPageId=1"> Fighter Verse Resources</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">. If you are interested in using songs to help you hide the Word of God in your heart, CDs from the Fighter Verse Song project that my husband has been involved in can also be found on that resource page. The songs (some in the early production stage) can also be found for FREE, posted week by week, at the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://fighterversesongs.com/">Fighter Verse Songs blog</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">.</span></span></i></div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-8650810603149650442012-01-07T00:19:00.183-06:002014-08-18T20:18:04.622-05:00The Word of Our God Will Stand Forever<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>The grass withers, the flower fades,</i><br />
<i> but the Word of our God will stand forever.</i><br />
<i> ~Isaiah 40:8~</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KTFWPMUDfRc/TwjQ9BN0UdI/AAAAAAAAAXg/x0jaKbMMP-M/s1600/100_1005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KTFWPMUDfRc/TwjQ9BN0UdI/AAAAAAAAAXg/x0jaKbMMP-M/s200/100_1005.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>Isaiah 40:8 has been a favorite scripture of mine for a long time. When we began homeschooling thirteen years ago, this was the verse we chose to capture our vision of what would be most important to pass on to our children among all the many things I found exciting and beautiful to share with them.<br />
<br />
On those long days when all the children were little–homeschooling the oldest one, with a pre-schooler, a toddler, and a baby–I would literally whisper this to myself....<br />
<br />
...<i>the laundry piles will fade, these dishes will be ground to dust ~ but the Word will not return empty...the Word we teach to our children will stand forever...</i><br />
<br />
Over the years, when the light was just right, I would stand in amazement, struck with the beauty of a sunset over a field, the flowers dazzling in the light, the colors of the grass shifting and seeming to praise God with their dance and I would remember... <i>The grass withers, the flower fades but the Word of our God will stand forever...</i> and have a moment where awe struck deep in my soul.<br />
<br />
Last Summer, the same day I really looked at <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/07/grass-of-field.html">the grass of the field</a>, I discovered that Peter declares this Word to be the very Gospel of God...it was as if the light of the glory of the Gospel just pierced into my heart.<br />
<br />
<i>....love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God; for </i><br />
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
<i>“All flesh is like grass </i><br />
<div>
<i>and all its glory like the flower of grass. </i></div>
<div>
<i>The grass withers, </i></div>
<div>
<i>and the flower falls, </i></div>
<div>
<i>but the Word of the Lord remains forever.” </i></div>
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
<i><b>And this Word <a href="http://www.esvbible.org/Is40.9/"></a>is the Good News that was preached to you. </b></i><br />
<i> ~1 Peter 1:22-25</i></div>
<div>
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div>
This truth puts my life in perspective, sifts my priorities, and causes me to humbly and joyfully bow in worship.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, what better verse to start off a year of recommitment to memorizing scripture.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mvrKPrDFAEM/TwjTe6ImcuI/AAAAAAAAAXw/k-bKJP1YdjQ/s1600/100_7575_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mvrKPrDFAEM/TwjTe6ImcuI/AAAAAAAAAXw/k-bKJP1YdjQ/s200/100_7575_2.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>Each week our church is encouraged to <a href="http://www.hopeingod.org/resources/scripture-memory/fighter-verse-program">memorize</a> a verse or passage of scripture. This week has been the beginning of a new cycle of verses... a fresh start... and the verse for this first week of 2012 has been Isaiah 40:8 ~ which was especially nice for me as I have been stumbling in recent years with only half memorizing and then forgetting the verses and I already have this one memorized! So a bonus gift for me. <br />
<br />
And another gift, is that my husband put this verse to song this week... and I love it. <br />
<br />
I really, really, love it. I love it so much that I have spent hours figuring out how to use HTML formatting on this blog (which I assure you is not my gift) to share it right here with everyone! So here it is... (Now edited with an Official Link to the song! Aug 2014)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bvj5qYvnOkI">Listen Here!</a><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
May the Lord cause us all to cherish his Word this year and always.<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Memory Verse Resources: For those who are interested in the memory verse program that our church has designed and uses, information can be found here...<a href="http://www.hopeingod.org/resources/scripture-memory/fighter-verse-program">Fighter Verse Program</a>. A list of this year's suggested weekly verses can be found on <a href="http://www.hopeingod.org/resources/scripture-memory/fighter-verses">this page</a> on our church's website (our family prints that list, which includes the scripture texts, and we make our own resources out of it). For professionally designed curriculum resources related to the program, go here... <a href="http://childrendesiringgod.org/resources/resource.php?id=2&productPageId=1"> Fighter Verse Resources</a>. If you are interested in using songs to help you hide the Word of God in your heart, CDs from the Fighter Verse Song project that my husband has been involved in can also be found on that resource page. The songs (some in the early production stage) can also be found for FREE, posted week by week, at the <a href="http://fighterversesongs.com/">Fighter Verse Songs blog</a>. Blessings to all of you in 2012.</span>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-30962199593612057652011-12-30T14:11:00.021-06:002023-01-05T14:32:51.496-06:00Tips for using the Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix" style="margin-bottom: 20px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-wrap: break-word; zoom: 1;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsG-2wUlPWs/Twvj25_btfI/AAAAAAAAAYw/uQhJqvP4FYo/s1600/100_3005.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsG-2wUlPWs/Twvj25_btfI/AAAAAAAAAYw/uQhJqvP4FYo/s200/100_3005.JPG" width="200" /></a>It's been really fun to hear from people who are getting excited about Bible reading! For those who are going to use my <i>no-dates, you're never behind,</i> <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html"> Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan</a> (my five bookmark lists can also be found at the very bottom of this post), I thought I'd copy in Grant Horner's Secrets to Success from his original <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System">Professor Grant Horner's Bible Reading System</a>. <i>I do recommend his original Ten Bookmarks plan though I'm not able to do that much reading during this season of my life. And his entire original article is worth reading for inspiration and understanding how I am using my bookmarks.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><strong>And now... Grant Horner's "The Secrets to Success" </strong>(I use the system more freely!) </span></div><div><ul style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; list-style-type: square; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; margin: 10px 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 25px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 0px; padding: 0px 10px 0px 25px;"><li>Read one chapter from each list each day; in one sitting or two. At the end of a book; go to the next book. At the end of the list; start it again. Do it in the order of the numbers on the bookmarks...1...2...3, etc. (Sara's note: He has stated other places that the order of the bookmarks is the least important aspect. I do like the order as it starts and ends in the New Testament and has poetry in the middle.)</li>
<li>Read quickly (without “speed-reading”) in order to get the overall sense. Read as fast as you comfortably can with moderate retention. You’re not studying deeply or memorizing; shoot for 5–6 minutes per chapter. At the end of a chapter, move immediately to the next list.</li>
<li><strong>Get through the text</strong>— no dawdling, back reading, looking up cross-references!</li>
<li>There are different ‘kinds’ of reading: super-quick skimming, careful moderate-paced, studying the text, deep meditation. You should be between the first and second kind.</li>
<li>Most people decrease their time spent and increase their retention after just two-three weeks! I now read and retain the entire text of Matthew in 35 minutes, Romans in 20, Genesis in <em>one hour</em>!</li>
<li>Don’t look up anything you ‘don’t get’ — real understanding will come through contextualizing by reading a <strong><em>lot</em></strong> of scripture over time. Get through the text!</li>
<li>If you miss a day or two — ok, get over it, then keep going. Don’t cover yourself in sackcloth and ashes and quit! Move the bookmarks along, to find your place(s) quickly next day.</li>
<li>The goal of this system is simple, and twofold: To know scripture, and to love and obey God more!</li>
</ul><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em;">SOLI DEO GLORIA</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em;">Professor Grant Horner</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em;"><br />
</div>My favorite line is <b>"no dawdling, back reading, looking up cross-references!"</b> I've found my retention actually increases when I take that drastic advice. :)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
And remember, my personal rule of <b>"No catching up... and no guilt!"</b> Just find the bookmark, read, and dwell in the Word right there where the Lord has led you for this particular day. Abide with Him and enjoy His unmerited grace! Many times in the past few months, I've only headed for my "favorite" bookmark or whichever one sounds most interesting, and just read one chapter right before total exhaustion hits at bedtime (or I'm interrupted mid-afternoon as the case may be). I think that is fine! The Lord is speaking to us through all of His inspired Word–one verse, one chapter, or five chapters at a time. The Bible wasn't written with a calendar and schedule attached. The bookmarks are designed to be ongoing and rotating no matter the pace of reading. I started this plan <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/07/times-of-refreshing.html">originally</a> in July. . . no dates and no pressure. I just love that part.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6BZiPP_L_uM/TwvCz_iY1PI/AAAAAAAAAYY/pqwOvEDvQ8Q/s1600/100_3085.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6BZiPP_L_uM/TwvCz_iY1PI/AAAAAAAAAYY/pqwOvEDvQ8Q/s200/100_3085.JPG" width="200" /></a>Again ~ anyone who'd like my five bookmarks (see the bottom of this post), just <b>please email me at sara.junkdrawer@gmail.com and I'll be happy to send you a pdf to print, cut out, and use (including <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">instructions</a>).</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">By the grace of our Lord Jesus, may we all be eager to enjoy the privilege of reading and dwelling in the Word, for our joy and His glory.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Blessings!<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Sara's Five Bookmark lists, and the <i>no-dates, you're-never-behind</i> Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan can be found here<i> . . . </i> <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan</a>.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e;">My original post on why FIVE Bookmarks, where the idea came from, and my thinking on it...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e;"> can be found </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e;"><a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/12/tis-seasonfor-bible-reading-plans.html" style="color: #473624; text-decoration: underline;">here</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e;">.</span><br />
<br />
(Sara's Five Bookmark Lists can also be found right below this picture of the bookmarks!)</div><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></b></i><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H39v2ayNnI0/Twz4AnLSTKI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/vJLBB8a3svo/s1600/100_3055.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H39v2ayNnI0/Twz4AnLSTKI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/vJLBB8a3svo/s400/100_3055.JPG" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">Sara’s Five Bookmarks </span></b><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• </span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div style="color: black; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">Read one chapter per day, per bookmark. At the end of a book, start the next book on the bookmark. At the end of the bookmark list, go back to the beginning. </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">Use one bookmark, two bookmarks, or five - just keep moving the bookmarks a chapter at a time. If you miss a day or more… no catching up! Just find your bookmarks and dwell in the Word right where He has led you.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">1. <b>Gospels and Acts</b></span><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts ( 117 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">2. <b>Books of Moses and Psalms</b></span><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Psalms • (337 chapters) <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">Note: I recommend starting with Psalms if you are beginning this in January and you've tried many plans over the years - just to avoid reading Genesis again first, in the dead of winter.</span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">3. <b>Poetry and Prophets</b></span><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi • (312 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">4. <b>Wisdom and History</b></span><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• Proverbs, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings, 1 & 2Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther • (280 chapters) </span><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">5. <b>New Testament Epistles</b></span><b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;">• Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, Hebrews, James, 1 & 2 Peter, 1, 2 & 3 John, Jude, Revelation • (145 chapters) </span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><i><b>Email me at sara.junkdrawer@gmail.com if you'd like the Five Bookmarks .pdf to print and cut out at home (plus <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">instructions</a>).</b></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mx7YmCA8Jrk/Tw0QHyUUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Xc5UVDOVXEc/s1600/100_3081.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mx7YmCA8Jrk/Tw0QHyUUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Xc5UVDOVXEc/s400/100_3081.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Bookmarks adapted from:</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Professor Grant Horner’s Bible Reading System – Ten Lists Plan</span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(Which I highly recommend if you can read ten chapters a day!)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 12px;"> </span>His system is fully explained in this document…. He encourages the sharing of his system and his bookmark lists :<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--><span style="color: #1f242e; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 9pt;"> </span><!--EndFragment--> </div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System">http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System</a> </span></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #181b23; font-family: 'Papyrus Condensed'; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div></div></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #850c09; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 18px; line-height: 18px;">Romans 15:5 ~</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13px; font: 13px "Lucida Grande"; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #850c09;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Gabriola;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Gabriola;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">May the God of hope fill you with all</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">joy and peace in believing, </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #850c09; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 18px; line-height: 18px;">so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. </span></div><br />
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</div></div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-30914908768016237912011-12-29T01:41:00.017-06:002012-01-11T15:04:26.797-06:00'Tis the Season...for Bible reading plans?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P_6hJQYpOTE/Tv0VHNCY_TI/AAAAAAAAAVg/NtSsCgEhH5o/s1600/100_3010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P_6hJQYpOTE/Tv0VHNCY_TI/AAAAAAAAAVg/NtSsCgEhH5o/s400/100_3010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>'Tis the the season for me to try to figure out what plan to use for Bible reading in 2012. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Earlier this year I <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/07/times-of-refreshing.html">wrote</a> about discovering, using, and enjoying Professor Grant Horner's Ten Lists system. He has Ten Lists which can be turned into ten bookmarks that have you reading one chapter from ten different places in the Bible each day. It's sounds chaotic and overwhelming at first, but there were many things I liked about his system. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>A few favorites...<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>•No dates, so no feeling behind. No guilt for missed days! Just find your place, read, and keep going. </div><div> I repeat...no guilt!</div><div>•Variety of Bible book genres each day. (Gospels, Poetry, History, Prophets, Epistles, etc.)</div><div>•The "lists" are all different lengths so the Bible readings line up differently with each other over time, speaking to me in new ways and showing new (and exciting) things about God and His redemptive plan that is revealed and woven all the way through all the books.</div><div>•The lists put books in different seasons over time, again because the lists are of varying lengths. </div><div><i> If, like me, you have tried many reading plans over the years </i></div><div><i> and are quite tired of reading Genesis in January, </i></div><div><i> it is a real treat to have a plan that varies seasonally! </i></div><div>•Plus, I really did enjoy reading in ten places. It captured my attention and, surprisingly, I didn't have any trouble following the flow of things even in so many places.</div><div><br />
</div><div>BUT... I totally failed at finding (making) the time to read ten chapters a day once Summer ended. And that was even before I discovered I was pregnant and had extra fatigue and (all day) morning sickness for the first time in many years. Every time I did pick up my Bible, I was very happy to find the faithful bookmarks sitting there waiting for me so my fuzzy brain knew where to read, but I hardly ever got through all ten bookmarks in one day. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Often, though, I could manage half the lists and finish up the next day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So that gave me an idea. What if I made my own book marks, my own lists, and I was only reading five chapters a day and still no pressure if I miss a day from time to time (or more often)? Something that takes 20-30 minutes a day?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Just. Keep. Moving. <i>Instead of giving up and thinking I need to wait and start all over again with Genesis and Matthew in January!</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>So, 'tis the season for me to make a plan to be in the Word in some systematic way this upcoming year and I've decided to stick with the bookmark type plan. I'm quite a ways in and will keep my place where I've been reading, but I've modified it to Five Lists which I've made into Five Bookmarks. I'm giving all credit to <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System">Professor Grant Horner</a>, because all I've done is combine his lists in a way that seems good to me, and possible during this upcoming season of my life.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>For those who might be interested, I'm going to share my lists here - along with my <i>no-dates, you're-never-behind,</i> <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan</a>.</b></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><b>Sara’s Five Bookmarks </b>• <i>Read one chapter per day, per bookmark. </i><i>(Or whatever you can manage - just keep moving the bookmarks at your own pace - one bookmark, two bookmarks, or five)</i></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. Gospels and Acts</b> • Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts <o:p></o:p>( 117 chapters) </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Books of Moses and Psalms</b> • Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Psalms • (337 chapters) <i>(I recommend starting with Psalms if you are beginning this in January and you've tried many plans over the years - just to avoid reading Genesis again first, in the dead of winter)</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3. Poetry and Prophets</b> • Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi<o:p></o:p> • (312 chapters) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4. Wisdom and History</b> • Proverbs, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings, 1 & 2Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther • <o:p></o:p>(280 chapters) </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5. New Testament Epistles</b> • Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, Hebrews, James, 1 & 2 Peter 1, 2 & 3 John, Jude, Revelation • (145 chapters) </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><i><b>Email me at sara.junkdrawer@gmail.com if you'd like the actual Sara's Five Bookmarks .pdf to print and cut out at home (<a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">with these instructions</a>).</b></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mx7YmCA8Jrk/Tw0QHyUUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Xc5UVDOVXEc/s1600/100_3081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mx7YmCA8Jrk/Tw0QHyUUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Xc5UVDOVXEc/s400/100_3081.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><o:p>Note: One thing I have done this past year in using the bookmark system is make a<i> tiny</i> dot (.) at the end of each chapter when I finish it, so that if the bookmarks fall out (or are taken out, chewed, and ripped by a baby–as happened more than once to mine) or if I miss several days of reading, I can easily find my place and get going again. One of Professor Horner's strong suggestions is using the same Bible for reading all the time, and I like to read a paper (rather than digital) Bible so this (the tiny dot markings) works well for me.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>My goal is NOT to get through these lists in one year, but just to read widely and consistently this year (and always) in the Bible. </o:p> <i>Although if one did read these five bookmark lists consistently, one would get through all the Bible at least once, and the New Testament books at least twice ~ even skipping 28 days entirely.</i> But, one of my own personal rules is "never try to catch up" just pick up and read where the bookmarks are, and abide in the Word that day by His grace.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>I thought this a wise comment on Bible reading...</o:p></div><blockquote class="tr_bq"><br />
<b>"I don’t want to master God’s Word. I want God, through his Word, to master me. And I’ve got a long way to go."</b> <i>~Bob Kauflin, in his <a href="http://www.worshipmatters.com/2010/12/29/why-im-reading-the-bible-in-ten-different-places/">excellent and encouraging explanation</a> of why and how he is using the Ten Lists plan. </i></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Most important to remember is that our Lord has called us to abide with Him, and yet nowhere in the Bible is there any requirement that anyone read through the Bible in one year or with any particular plan. I do believe being in the Word brings joy, and allows us to abide in Him, and for this reason (among others) I desire a great hunger for the Word so that I may pursue it for love and joy, and not for duty. </o:p><br />
<o:p><br />
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<o:p>(For more tips on using the bookmark system...click <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/12/tips-for-using-bookmarks-reading-plan.html">here</a>)</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><i>Lord, </i></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><i>...In Your presence is fullness of joy. Psalm 16:11. </i></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><i> Please, grant us that gift. </i></o:p></div></div><div><br />
</div><div> ~Sara~</div></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>*Professor Grant Horner's Original Bible Reading System, and his thoughts on it can be found <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/12349985/Professor-Grant-Horners-Bible-Reading-System">here</a>.<br />
<br />
For a "just the plan, please" explanation my <i>no-dates, you're-never-behind</i> <b>Bookmarks Bible Reading Plan </b>(Basically, Sara's Five Bookmarks plus Instructions) go <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-dates-youre-never-behind-bookmarks.html">here</a>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKW0x68ak7Y/TwvExLCr4CI/AAAAAAAAAYg/K9898S25IUQ/s1600/100_3020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKW0x68ak7Y/TwvExLCr4CI/AAAAAAAAAYg/K9898S25IUQ/s200/100_3020.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><b>Email me at sara.junkdrawer@gmail.com for a pdf of Sara's Five Bookmarks with instructions.</b><br />
<b><br />
</b></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-2752781454731423752011-10-13T17:27:00.005-05:002011-10-29T10:42:13.913-05:00No Child Left Inside<i>We had a bit of fun yesterday on Facebook, of all places. For those of you who missed it, and for the sake of posterity and remembrance, I'm going to share it here. </i><i>~Sara~</i><br />
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<i>ps. a big thank you to more than a dozen friends who chimed in on the original conversation, adding much delight to my afternoon. </i><br />
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</i></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j80GkJ6v4is/Tpdj0e4-tYI/AAAAAAAAAUc/_PDthQP4FvE/s1600/100_3528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j80GkJ6v4is/Tpdj0e4-tYI/AAAAAAAAAUc/_PDthQP4FvE/s200/100_3528.JPG" width="200" /></a><i>Status Post:</i></div><div>Younger kids aged 8,6,5,3 and 2 outside enthusiastically and cheerfully building a village with outlined foundations of leaves, artifacts gathered from here and there, and much imagination. In light of the six months of winter just ahead and the coffee on the table in my peaceful dining room... having trouble mustering up the will power to call them inside to "do school." </div><div><br />
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<i>Comments:</i></div><div>Ms. Shull, </div><div>I see that your students are not in their classroom today. </div><div>Could you please explain... ;-) </div><div>Sincerely, </div><div>Mr. Shull</div><div><br />
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Principal Shull, </div><div>You'll please notice that I have followed the guidelines set forth by your own policy established in 1998, entiltled "No Child Left Inside" - item 503.1 (Not Squandering Autumn in Minnesota). :) </div><div>Sincerely,</div><div>Ms. Shull<br />
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Ms. Shull, </div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z76NTDs3N1M/TqwdVDZkMSI/AAAAAAAAAU0/_0mb3KTKvXI/s1600/100_1684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z76NTDs3N1M/TqwdVDZkMSI/AAAAAAAAAU0/_0mb3KTKvXI/s200/100_1684.JPG" width="150" /></a>I am well aware of item 503.1 and grateful for your close adherence to this most important value in our schooling system. My significant concern was that you had failed to follow through with subpoint 503.1.34 ensuring that, and I quote, "students will be appropriately dressed in pajamas and barefoot during outdoor activities when said activities occur before the school day has commenced." Can you please explain?</div><div>Sincerely,</div><div>Mr. Shull<br />
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Oh, dear. Mr. Shull, </div><div>I do see that I failed in that respect. I had insisted on outdoor clothing prior to letting them go outdoors - thus the confusion regarding whether I was in fact complying with and appealing to 503.1 or intending to "do school". The majority however, were indeed barefoot, and a good time was had by all which I believe was the original spirit, if not the letter, of the law. I promise to review all the subpoints of 503.1 so as to ensure that all the children have the most benefit of the No Child Left Inside policy as established in 1998. </div><div>Sincerely, </div><div>Ms. Shull.<br />
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Ms. Shull, </div><div>It was a relief to hear your response and to know that you are indeed complying with, as you say, the spirit of our "No Child Left Inside" initiative. Thank you for kindly seeing to full compliance in the future. And what pleases me perhaps most in this matter is to know that you will still be eligible to be nominated by your students for the Teacher of the Year award. </div><div>Sincerely, </div><div>Principal Shull<br />
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</div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eqEffOpYHD4/TpdjTkQnn7I/AAAAAAAAAUU/39qCmOO9wY8/s1600/100_3489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eqEffOpYHD4/TpdjTkQnn7I/AAAAAAAAAUU/39qCmOO9wY8/s200/100_3489.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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</div></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-68828694208902577542011-10-10T21:25:00.000-05:002011-10-10T21:25:00.235-05:00Living happily-ever-after<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rVe2cOAqqiY/TpOn0ylu_oI/AAAAAAAAAUM/IjH35BIP9p4/s1600/100_3358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rVe2cOAqqiY/TpOn0ylu_oI/AAAAAAAAAUM/IjH35BIP9p4/s200/100_3358.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><i><br />
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<i>In honor of the twenty-fifth anniversary of our first date, I'm re-posting this poem...written on a perfect day for remembering. So thankful to be celebrating the first quarter-century of Happily Ever After with my true love. Very Thankful.</i><br />
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An Anniversary Day<br />
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Skipping leaves and half dressed trees<br />
seem pleased about the warmish days.<br />
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The sun grows soft and big while sailing deeper to the south.<br />
Evening's long shadows escape to chase our feet at noon.<br />
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That same sun spins out golden strands of memory<br />
that bind me to a day just like today.<br />
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Warm sun, warm hands, warm cookies<br />
dripping ice cream on a cozy hill.<br />
Kaleidoscopes of dazzled light shift across our jeans<br />
and draw our eyes to red leaves up above.<br />
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The leaves that in their lazy way<br />
drift down and down to make mosaics<br />
on the bright green all around.<br />
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The golden strands that day wove hazy screens<br />
to push out time and place and people all around.<br />
A golden day that witnessed bonded hearts<br />
those many years ago.<br />
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Those golden strands this day wrap warm memories<br />
around and leave me feeling seventeen and loved<br />
while standing in the grass.<br />
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Eyes closed with face set toward the reddish glow<br />
. . . for moments I could be both here and there.<br />
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His ringing laughter calls to me across the years,<br />
and also strong and real around the bend.<br />
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Smiling, warm, beloved still<br />
. . . I turn around and walk into today.<br />
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~Sara~<br />
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<i>"O, magnify the Lord with me,</i><br />
<i>and let us exalt His name together!"</i><br />
<i> </i>~Psalm 34:3Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-72075913698579768092011-10-08T18:20:00.002-05:002011-10-08T22:09:48.413-05:00Days of gold<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WF8rwg9gn90/TokXlUcSW1I/AAAAAAAAAUI/z-3-ezKsmUE/s1600/101_0161.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WF8rwg9gn90/TokXlUcSW1I/AAAAAAAAAUI/z-3-ezKsmUE/s200/101_0161.jpeg" width="200" /></a><br />
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Golden days, few and precious.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Roads are made in leaves under the tree. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Trucks, rakes, balls half-buried in the piles.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Orange, reds, and yellows curl and crisp and turn to brown.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And still the trees are full of blazing flags... </div><div class="MsoNormal"> their rustled thankfulness is on the wind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My soul quiets to the sound. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sunbeams filter down in Autumn angles </div><div class="MsoNormal"> through the canopy of leaves.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kaleidoscopes of brilliant, dancing patterns on the grass. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The baby laughs and tries to catch the light.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Moments to treasure when the color fades </div><div class="MsoNormal"> and all is gray…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> or is this Joy a gift for just today?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">O soul, rejoice!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My whispered praise is added to the wind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> ~Sara~</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-65551433514850614402011-09-03T20:33:00.000-05:002011-09-03T20:33:46.133-05:00A story of giving thanksLast month, in the midst of having so much to do, I decided to read a book. Although I had plenty to do in every area of my life, including pre-reading a stack of books for my 8th grader's school year, I was really longing to use some of my Summer down-time reading something good, just for me. At the same time, I started hearing about a book called <u>Hannah Coulter</u> by Wendell Berry. Now, I had never even heard of Wendell Berry or his<a href="http://www.wendellberrybooks.com/books.html"> eight novels</a>, including this <u>Hannah Coulter</u> which was published in 2004. So when, within a two-day-period, I saw this book recommended in book reviews by three people I respect it, I sat up and paid attention. I don't believe in coincidences. It seemed as if this book was being handed to me by a gentle hand, as I was lovingly urged to read.<br />
<br />
<u>Hannah Coulter</u> was sitting on the shelf at the library, waiting for me.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1v0k-Ep9xIA/TmLSIys6qOI/AAAAAAAAAUE/_MNcWVVMMFQ/s1600/100_1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1v0k-Ep9xIA/TmLSIys6qOI/AAAAAAAAAUE/_MNcWVVMMFQ/s200/100_1797.JPG" width="200" /></a>Oh, what beautiful writing. Fully prose, but striking deep in the soul like poetry. This is the story of Hannah, born in 1922, a child during the depression, mostly raised by a remarkable grandmother, widowed young by WWII, finding a new life after and widowed again, old after a 50 year marriage. A story of community and connections and generational change. Early in the telling she says, "This is my story, my giving of thanks." I'm not even going to try to make a summary, but I will say that I can't remember any other book where I so identified with the narrator: falling in love as she fell in love, grieving as she grieved, hoping as she hoped, disappointed as she was disappointed, present to the reality of her life, lived fully in her present, and yet always remembering and looking forward, too. Smiling, even laughing out loud in many places, and at other times crying quiet tears down my cheeks, tears of joy and of sorrow. Nodding my head at her wisdom.<br />
<br />
Afterwards when I was sharing some of this with Kevin and my older girls, Grace commented (not really knowing whether this was a true story or not), "But, Mom, she's not really real, right? I mean, it's fiction?" For a few seconds, I felt a little confused. She had become very real to me.<br />
<br />
I'm not quite sure why this book hit me so deeply, perhaps it is where I'm standing in my own life. So easily remembering my youth and the beginning of our love now continuing in happy marriage while the fullest of years of child rearing and the urgency of life presses in on all sides, I usually think of myself as young. And yet, my oldest daughter, Grace, started college last week. And though she is living at home and tightly bound to my heart, I start to understand the season that begins for a mother when children test their wings out of the nest, and finally fly away. I think I felt my age for the first time as Kevin and I stood side by side, hands upon her, praying for her, at the Celebration and Commitment Service that officially began her college years––even though later that same night I snuggled and nursed my young baby to sleep. I also can see forward to the growing old together and the seasons to come. I'm standing in the middle of it all. I want to live my life, like Hannah, like a story of giving thanks.<br />
<br />
I also became interested in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wendell_Berry">Wendell Berry</a>. What man can write a woman's story that makes another woman weep and laugh through tears? His story is interesting as well: Kentucky born, academic, <a href="http://www.wendellberrybooks.com/author.html">writer</a> who doesn't own a computer, sustainable organic farmer who uses horses instead of machines, husband of 54 years plus, activist, conservationist, consistently pro-life from womb to grave, anti-war, a progressive thinker accused of archaic traditionalism...and a Christian. I plan to read all of his novels . . . perhaps (if I can stand the wait) after I get a few more of those school-prep books crossed off of my list.<br />
<br />
I said good-bye to Hannah just this morning, and I won't forget her soon.<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-90146017747160370072011-08-21T23:25:00.001-05:002011-09-13T22:40:39.218-05:00These are the good old days. (Part 2)(Continued from <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/08/these-are-good-old-days-part-1.html">Part 1</a>)<br />
<br />
The Barn Removal Project. <br />
<br />
Or as we've come to call it, the Barn Razing <i>(as in completely destroy and remove all traces of existence)</i>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nXTHrqpsY14/TlGPfzQeWbI/AAAAAAAAAUA/8mPbkjWpWbo/s1600/100_9746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nXTHrqpsY14/TlGPfzQeWbI/AAAAAAAAAUA/8mPbkjWpWbo/s200/100_9746.JPG" width="150" /></a>When we moved to this house and property, seven years ago, there was an old barn standing on its last legs. A barn with a leaking wooden roof, rotten beams, and due to the (now wet) straw insulating the walls, rotten everything. When we had our inspection prior to buying this house, the inspector told us the barn was condemned and we should not let anyone go in it. As a matter of fact, I never did go in it. We put a barrier of snow fencing around it to keep the kids away. Our insurance company had no problem with having us sign an "exclusion" of that building and so over the past years we've let trees and grass and weeds grow up around and through that old barn while it slowly and then finally sank to its knees. Old steel siding folded in, then covered the fallen barn as if with a blanket for its last sleep. In the Summer, it was hidden by the wild of green. In the Winter, it was covered with snow. Other than glancing at it over in a corner of the now non-existent farm yard in a nostalgic sort of way, we never thought of it at all.<br />
<br />
Until the letter came. The letter explaining that we had 30 days to remove (or rebuild!) the barn or our insurance would drop us. Really? What about that exclusion? Well, that was then and this is now. The barn must go.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThCltW14bMg/TlGPDjM6IyI/AAAAAAAAAT8/mEGb91kRx4Y/s1600/100_9742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThCltW14bMg/TlGPDjM6IyI/AAAAAAAAAT8/mEGb91kRx4Y/s200/100_9742.JPG" width="200" /></a>This letter coincided with a letter from our insurance agent telling us that our insurance company had become difficult to work with in the rural areas, she would no longer be representing them . . . and would we like to switch to a new company, one that would save us hundreds of dollars in the process? "Why, yes indeed. How convenient!" we thought. Then we discovered that the new, friendly company also required removal of the barn––in fact all companies were now in agreement that the potentially dangerous old building would need to be removed. And soon. Within 30 days of our new policy's start date. By the end of August.<br />
<br />
We literally stood staring at that thing, completely hidden by overgrowth, wondering how on earth we could solve this problem. Our preference for an easy answer . . . professional demo, sorting, removal, hauling and dumping was looking to cost many thousands of dollars. So that was not an option. We heard lots of advice . . . "People love that old barnwood! They'll even remove it for you!" Or . . . "Dig a big hole and just shove it in there - that's what the old farmers do." Or . . . "Have the fire department burn it for practice! That's only $600-800." Or . . "Wait until winter, push it all into a field and just burn the whole thing." Dear Mr. Friend suggested shoving it just ten feet north of the property line (through a few trees) and then claim it was his problem! All intriguing ideas, but things we couldn't well achieve on a shoe-string budget, no large equipment, nearby flammable buildings and trees, those pesky new environmental rules about burying things, and a 30-day timeline.|<br />
<br />
Finally, we thought of one possibility. It seemed a bit too easy and so probably wouldn't work. Could we burn it gradually on a campfire sized fire, piece by piece, sorting and saving the good to give away, and burning the bad? Working on it all of August? With a five-dollar burn permit? At times we thought- "Yes! We can do it!" A minute later we thought of other details - "No! This is impossible!" After all, this was completely not on the agenda this year. How could we spend that much time on it, all of us working, even if it worked? Three weeks ago, just before the date we were set to begin, we were very discouraged. The type of discouragement that makes your eyes fly wide open in the middle of the night with anxiety, but also causes you to cry out to the Lord for help. The type of discouragement you see in each other that makes you want to smile and be brave and say out loud "It's all going to be OK."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vkqBTAjo8Fs/TlGOaEdkc5I/AAAAAAAAAT0/mL_D1ZLRB64/s1600/100_9733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vkqBTAjo8Fs/TlGOaEdkc5I/AAAAAAAAAT0/mL_D1ZLRB64/s200/100_9733.JPG" width="200" /></a>I started mentioning this "barn project" to friends and the response was always the same. A surprising enthusiasm, encouragement to ask others to help, and even to think of it as a party. A definite intrigue with the idea of an old barn whether it was going up or coming down. A universal desire to be a part of such old-fashioned, hard, manual work. A desire for their kids to have a chance to do that sort of "real" work. An outpouring of love and offers from many, and genuine sadness on the part of those who had other plans and couldn't come help. After all, that barn was put together by hand (and we imagine with the help of friends and family), why not pull it apart piece by piece with the help of friends and family? It sounds like The Good Old Days.<br />
<br />
So we asked for help. And help came. Mr. Friend came with his backhoe and his skilled use of it, and what we would have done without him I don't know. He has come early (accommodating us by waiting until 6:30am, when he'd been up since 4:00), and late–when Kevin got home from his city job. Whenever the big machine and his expertise would be of assistance. Fathers and sons have come to help, moms and a kid or two, entire families, and men alone or in pairs. One day of particular progress we had two adult men in the morning, rain in the afternoon, and then a family with six children came to help in the mud of the evening. All these friends along with our own work crew did remove that barn. I expected it to take every bit of that 30 days. I was expecting to be rushed in the end. But that's not what happened.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2BtngDgvok/TlGOwE75ScI/AAAAAAAAAT4/Jd62rCTVOYg/s1600/100_9740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2BtngDgvok/TlGOwE75ScI/AAAAAAAAAT4/Jd62rCTVOYg/s200/100_9740.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
In just six days the major work was done––and we had even taken one day off for sheer exhaustion, and the good excuse of rain. We breathed a sigh of relief and scheduled one more work day and more help arrived, just at the right time, even after we turned a few away because we thought rain would ruin the day. Now, just the odds and ends of splintered wood and dirt remain. Sorted wood, still good for use, is sitting here and there, but the barn is gone. We can prove it with photos for our insurance file. We are so thankful for the answer to our prayers that came through our Brothers and Sisters and good hard (but doable) work for our family. The type of answer that teaches us all (not just the children) that the Lord still moves mountains.<br />
<br />
Which is what reminds me that these are The Good Old Days, the days the Lord has planned for us. I want to recognize it as we go along, and not just with hindsight of years to come or through the romantic lens that doesn't see the grit in these good days. I want to see it all and still feel the goodness. The days of family, friends, and children still at home. Of hard work, too, and impossible needs. The days full of challenges that answer our prayers that our children will be prepared for lives of their own. Lessons provided by floods, and vans breaking down, and mothers on crutches when the house guests arrive, and hard work on barns, and depending on Brothers and Sisters when we'd rather not be in need. Lessons from hearing mom and dad praying for something to work out, with a feeble sort of faith. Praying themselves because they know it's something we really need, something really important that we can't make happen on our own. And then seeing the answers come one after another. And after that, seeing the greater provision of the Lord's design in all of these things, better than any <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2011/08/these-are-good-old-days-part-1.html">plan we would have made</a> for this Summer––back when we thought coffee on the deck, family bike rides, and maybe building a tree house (to teach the kids how to work a bit) was the best plan. The plan that defines and meets our needs, burns away the chaff, and draws us closer to Him.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jZMETqjBBcI/TlGN7Y0v_UI/AAAAAAAAATw/7fQt5LGIRL8/s1600/100_9732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jZMETqjBBcI/TlGN7Y0v_UI/AAAAAAAAATw/7fQt5LGIRL8/s200/100_9732.JPG" width="150" /></a>I've looked at that barn coming down, looked at the friends coming together to offer hours of hard work, looked at the pieces of old wood and the old-time nails, looked at beams of the barn made of unmilled logs, and thought of that time of tremendous hard work on this farm 100 years ago when that barn was new. Work without machines and nearly without rest. Work without a hot shower at the end of the day. An exhausted sleep on a hot summer night without fans or A/C. A tenacity to build from the ground up, with no guarantee of success, that we can hardly imagine. Building projects, hoping for a good crop, investing in animals and newfangled machines. Thousands of days preparing meals and feeding animals and cleaning up and making do. Marriages and children. Gains and loss. Hard times and good times and daily chores. Times spent on knees in prayer and times asking friends for help. Answers and help provided. <br />
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The Good Old Days. <br />
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Lord, let me lean into these days and live life to the full as it unfolds . . . with thankfulness, trusting in You for the plan.<br />
<br />
~Sara~<br />
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<i>ps. Kevin just came home and said a friend of ours (that we haven't seen in months) offered us a load of oak firewood, already cut, that they really have no use of. Could we use it? My eyes are glistening. More answers to prayer. One concern of the barn project was that Kevin and the kids had no time to begin to work on cutting the free firewood available from Mr. Friend's land for this winter (which we use for the major source of heat for our home). This friend, with no knowledge of our need, offers an answer to a prayer barely asked in passing. Whispered lest we ask for too much. I am thankful and amazed. (The "load" turned out to be THREE cords.)</i>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375119182311668424.post-75591749839931451982011-08-16T22:31:00.003-05:002011-08-17T10:18:01.729-05:00It's all humor and poetry.Sometimes people get the impression that life at our house must be all humor and poetry. I'm here with proof that this is, indeed, true.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">This summer has been a big one for big storms. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We've had storms that did damage with 70 mph straight line winds. Some of it quite severe. In our little area of Minnesota, thousands of trees went down in not one, but two separate storms. Huge, old towering trees pulled up from the roots. Oaks snapped off ten feet above the ground. Four of <a href="http://hopingingod.blogspot.com/2010/02/so-teach-us-to-number-our-days.html">Mr. Friend's</a> tree line pines, planted in 1950, fell thunderously to the ground just missing his house. We ourselves lost a few trees-including a much beloved old orchard apple tree. It fell and smashed a younger tree we were hoping would take its place. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5po6QJpg9Rg/TkszByeNoOI/AAAAAAAAATs/ZqoGJ_rfF9g/s1600/DSC02473_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5po6QJpg9Rg/TkszByeNoOI/AAAAAAAAATs/ZqoGJ_rfF9g/s320/DSC02473_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The orchard apple tree, old already in 2005</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We've seen crazy winds toss the big outdoor playhouse about 40 feet to a new location, random objects fly through the air, and heard that loud hail pounding the house. We've lost power on hot humid nights and a couple of times, we've had to make our way down to the old cellar for tornado warnings. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Did I mention the time we ran from a tornado in our van? That was last year, but still fresh in our minds. It was like a scene from a movie, with a tree limb falling across the road right in front of our path as Dad slammed on the brakes to avoid a major collision, just as it came into focus, huge in the illumination of the headlights. The screaming in the van was soundtrack perfect. We sheltered that one out actually in the vehicle, parked close up to an L corner behind a big building. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, perhaps it's not surprising that some of the kids have gotten a bit skittish about the weather and (mildly) obsessed with watching the radar for potential danger. We suspect this may actually lead our nearly 12-year-old Nat to become a TV weather man. He's got the smile, the personality, and now he's talking weather all the time. In any case, he has not yet made peace with his weather interest, though he has learned a ton about weather patterns and is frequently looking up weather news on the internet this summer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Today, he was a bit freaked out by the big storm system headed our way on the radar. It was one of those long lines of stormfront with a big area of red in the middle, surrounded by a lot of yellow, and a fringe of green. Of course, our house is a pin on that computerized radar map, and that monster was headed right towards us. Pretty much a bulls-eye. The fact that the accompanying text info included no warnings for severe weather, and the forecast called only for several hours of very heavy rain, did little to reassure him. That thing did look serious. "What if their interpretation of the data is just wrong?" he asked with a nervous half-laugh.<br />
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What, indeed? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Teasing him, I said, “Nat, you shouldn’t be scared. It’s beautiful! It’s powerful! You should write poetry about it! That’s what I do… (wink)” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nat’s quick deadpan response, “OK, how about a Haiku…" and as he counted off the syllables on his fingers, out came the following gem on his first try. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The storm is coming</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>And it is really scary</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I’m going to die</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">At this point everyone, including him, burst into laughter. His sisters begged him to let me share this and he readily agreed. After all, the storm came and it was nothing but a lot of rain. He is most likely going to survive until morning. But if not? At least he has left this poem as a legacy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">See what I mean? It's all humor and poetry.<br />
<br />
~Sara~</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
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</div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07665006856990362883noreply@blogger.com0