tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709443253576103642024-03-13T02:47:22.651-07:00I've Got to Share or I'll Burst!My purpose in writing is to encourage you and assure you that the grace of God is with you no matter what happens. 1 Peter 5:12Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-88211513730546175752014-09-06T11:05:00.001-07:002014-09-06T11:06:33.259-07:00The Big PictureI've been meaning to blog about The Big Picture ever since Mallory surprised us by showing up one day in June. Every time I see him I'm reminded again that there's a really big picture. I desperately need that reminder from time-to-time!<br />
<br />
Of course, this story doesn't start that day. It's hard to figure out quite where Big Picture stories start. I suspect it's something like, "Before the foundations of time..." My awareness of this particular story started when I was sixteen. As is always the case with Big Picture stories, I didn't have a clue that day or, in fact, for many years.<br />
<br />
I certainly wouldn't go so far as to say I was a <i>normal</i> sixteen-year-old (whatever that is), but I did struggle with the same things lots of teens struggle with...zits, body image, homework, wondering if I had what it takes, would anyone ever choose to love me, the usual. I was living in Nova Scotia and one of my aunts was living in British Columbia. She sent me a cassette tape. Yes, a cassette. Not an eight-track, though I did have some of those too, just a regular little ol' cassette. <br />
<br />
It was a homemade one with a sticker label that said, "From Brian and Mallory With Love." It wasn't from them directly to me. It was just a cassette that a couple of people had made and their friends had enjoyed it so much they made a bunch of copies. My Aunt thought I would like it and I did! The songs spoke to my heart. The guitars were beautifully played and the vocal harmonies were extraordinary. One of the voices often sang a clear, higher harmony so I assumed Mallory was a girl, like the Mallory on <i>Family Ties</i>.<br />
<br />
I played that tape all the time. Especially when I was trying to sleep at night. I struggled a lot with anxiety and sleep seldom came easily. That cassette calmed me.<br />
<br />
Because this is a Big Picture story, I have to fast-forward a decade. Ten years in which I finished High School, went to college, got engaged to a guy that I didn't marry, moved across the country...and then met Brian. Who sang and played the guitar beautifully. He had a friend named Mallory. Mallory was a guy but not the guy who sang the high parts on my tape. That was Brian. <br />
<br />
I married Brian and Mallory sang at our wedding. Just as God knew I would. I don't think He just knew, I believe He planned it "before the foundations of time..." When I was sixteen and tormented by anxiety and couldn't sleep and played a cassette to calm myself He knew I was listening to the voice of my future husband. He had a Plan. A really good Plan. I think He smiled over those moments with the same kind of delight I feel when I <a href="http://www.gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2013/07/happy-birthday-friend.html">plan treats</a> for my kids.<br />
<br />
Now I can see that part of The Big Picture. It's really beautiful. It was His plan along I just couldn't see it. <br />
<br />
Today is part of a Big Picture too. Strands of a tapestry are being woven together. The strands are all I can see at the moment. I have no idea what the final picture for this chapter is going to look like. Many of the strands are really, really lovely, my favorite colours. I can easily see those hues coming together in a way that makes my heart burst with joy.<br />
<br />
There are a few though that aren't very pretty. In fact, when I look at those ones I don't like them at all. I've seen some pictures woven in those colours and they're ugly and make me feel sad. Some days feel like they are dominated by those ugly threads. My stomach gets all queasy and I can't think straight. Grief and fear are paralysing. What if... What. If. <br />
<br />
In desperation I seek the eyes of the Weaver to whom I've entrusted my life. His eyes are beautiful. So beautiful. I'm transfixed, but it's different than being paralysed. His gaze fills me with peace and calm. His love starts to soak into the pain and fear. If I stay there long enough, it fills me with courage and I can move again, breathe again. He makes beautiful, glorious pictures. Even out of really ugly colours. He weaves in grace and redemption and they become masterpieces. <br />
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This seeking of His eyes... Sometimes it requires fierce determination. It's an <a href="http://gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2013/04/dance-on-your-disappointment.html">act of war</a>. A refusal to believe the lies that His love and grace aren't big enough. <br />
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Again, today, I will release the strands I'm clutching. He promises to take them and make something that will take my breath away. I'm looking into His eyes. The love in them is making me sing a song.<br />
<br />
It's a song I learned from a cassette a long time ago.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTy-Cp-InoDKWgjqfKcCspCxnZEwmdZ-vtikMQ06m6Me5SXn674FKccHJtsfdq4TV4QRnCLWnV72OFDBIPyqRUIo3IxGskSzhXpFdRX6klhFvXvYj6gep1efcJHeTsDjFW87RXvMolA/s1600/Brian+&+Mallory+June+2014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTy-Cp-InoDKWgjqfKcCspCxnZEwmdZ-vtikMQ06m6Me5SXn674FKccHJtsfdq4TV4QRnCLWnV72OFDBIPyqRUIo3IxGskSzhXpFdRX6klhFvXvYj6gep1efcJHeTsDjFW87RXvMolA/s1600/Brian+&+Mallory+June+2014.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Brian and Mallory in June ~ I wish I had a picture of them recording their album!</span></i></div>
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-82280574784603246992014-06-20T09:55:00.000-07:002014-06-20T09:55:48.217-07:00Please Stand BySometimes God speaks to me audibly.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying that the woman in the Costco self checkout is God--He'd use better grammar ("Your savings is..." *<i>shudder*</i> I've seriously thought of writing to the corporation)--but Monday I heard him speak to me through that voice. (It's surprising how often He uses imperfect vessels.)<br />
<br />
Whenever possible I use the self-checkout. It's just so hard to be patient while someone else is pokey and packs the hamburger buns on the bottom. Yes, I say something about the buns (much to the horror of my children, but seriously!), and, no, I don't have control issues, just an appreciation of things done well. However, it is inconvenient when there's a glitch. Like on Monday when I swiped a shirt and placed it on the belt. Wouldn't take. I tried again. And again. <br />
<br />
"<i>Help is required for this item. Please stand by. Help is on the way</i>." Thankfully, her grammar was correct at this stressful moment. The only way I was going to leave the store with that shirt (half price and a lovely shade of blue!) was if I waited. Waited for help. Help that was apparently on the way.<br />
<br />
That's when I laughed out loud. <br />
<br />
Indeed.<br />
<br />
Help is required for this item.<br />
<br />
Please stand by.<br />
<br />
Help is on the way.<br />
<br />
That thought which had been pinging around in my head all morning... How could I solve that particular problem? I could...what if I...or maybe if I... "I" was part of every solution I could imagine. Yet clearly help was required for this item. <br />
<br />
Please stand by, Michelle. Help is on the way!<br />
<br />
I don't always wait well (see above regarding self checkout). I frequently wear myself to a nub trying to solve problems. Sure, action on my part is usually required, but I'm a hamster on a wheel when I think I'm the source of the solution.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;">"<i><b>Be still</b> in the presence of the Lord and <b>wait patiently </b>for him to act. <b>Don't worry</b>..."</i></span><br />
<i><span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #073763;">"I <b>waited patiently</b> for the Lord to help me and <b>he...heard my cry...lifted me</b> out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire..."</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #073763;">"No one who waits for you will <b>ever be put to shame</b>."</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Wait. Patiently. Don't worry. Worry causes mire in my brain. While I waited for the clerk...in that moment of stillness...that stillness I frequently avoid though my impatience...truth surfaced.<br />
<br />
God was definitely speaking to me in that annoying and often grammatically incorrect android voice. Help was required. In that moment I determined to "stand by" and believe that "help is on the way."<br />
<br />
That was five days ago... At least half the solution has unfolded. I have every reason to believe that if I continue to stand by, all the help I need will arrive. <br />
<br />
It's kinda peaceful.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 37:7; 40:1-2 NLT</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 25:3 GN</span></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-71073730629663316182013-07-31T09:32:00.001-07:002013-07-31T09:32:37.588-07:00Happy Birthday, Friend!I'm a planner and an organizer. I'm the CEO of a small but forceful organization and most decisions require the consideration of a minimum of five people's schedules. Even though today is ONLY midway through summer, I must make some decisions about the kid's schedules for the winter. Trying to consider every eventuality and how we can make everybody's everything jive just about pops a muscle in my brain. And then there's a nagging anxiety that I'll have forgotten something that will make us crazy trying to deal with all winter...<br />
<br />
That anxiety makes it a good time to ponder the coolness of God's kindness toward me. On this day many years ago one of my very best friends was born. My kids get the biggest kick out of considering our age difference and what that looks like at their ages in relation to other people they know. "That would be like me being best friends with _______ !!" (Incidentally, it is the same age difference between my husband and I, but I'm the younger one in that scenario.)<br />
<br />
On this day ever-so-many years ago, I was planning how I would celebrate my eighth birthday; reading my first full-length novel, <i>Treasures of the Snow</i>; biking to my friend's house; weeding the garden with my mom; maybe going to the beach. It was the year I switched schools and encountered God in a way that marked me forever.<br />
<br />
All the while, unbeknownst to me, clear on the other side of the country a baby girl was born. I wouldn't meet her for more than twenty years. What is so cool to me is that away back then God knew the plans He had for us. I <i>know</i> it was with delight that He planned the ways we'd just "get" each other. That our husbands would be bemused but relieved that we make sense to somebody. That our kids would be friends. That we'd both say yes to Him in ways that bring a little bit of heaven to earth. That He planned everything just right so that we would lend each other strength and a whole lot of happiness. It gave Him great joy to plan it all out for us! And we had no idea...<br />
<br />
There's no limit to the goodness in our Father's heart toward us!! Celebrating all this goodness makes my heart so happy--and a little bit less anxious about planning my future. I get so furrow-browed over trying to figure everything out, but who knows what other happy surprises He has up His sleeve for me?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>I will be your God throughout your lifetime--</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>until your hair is white with age.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>I made you, and I will care for you.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>I will carry you along and save you.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Isaiah 46:4</i></span></div>
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-46209700246532883772013-07-27T18:40:00.001-07:002013-07-27T18:40:20.123-07:00Destiny FocusedEvery year I print my blog posts for a few seniors I love. Next to my Mom and Dad, Hanny and Otto may be my biggest fans. If I had a million Hanny and Otto's, my husband could retire. So, they were checking up on me to make sure I've been writing and I had to confess that I haven't been... I had a couple speaking events in May that consumed my creative energy and then June ran me over as it usually does, I'm trying to write papers for a course I'm taking and then it had been so long since I'd blogged...where to start? So I stayed stuck. I <i>wanted</i> to write. They told me that wasn't okay, that there are people who need to read what I write, they would pray, and I'd better sit down and prepare to write!<br />
<br />
You get a bit of expectation when people like Hanny and Otto pray so I was waiting for it. Sure enough on Wednesday I hit the web looking for pictures of our new little Prince George...and BAM!<br />
<br />
American relatives recently grilled me on "the whole monarchy thing" and I really don't think I enlightened them much. I told them how I love the Queen's Christmas message and how my heart shivers when she prays for us, her subjects. How I respect her so much and how she believes her role is God-given and a serious responsibility. I'm not sure I have an opinion on the future of the monarchy, but I do have an opinion on the disrespectful ways people express their opinions...<br />
<br />
Anyway, Wednesday...snooping for royal baby pictures. You know what I saw? The same thing I've seen three times over. I could relate to the look on Kate and Will's faces. Their titles make no difference in that moment of wonder. Kate's face told the story I know: her world has been turned upside down by a squalling bundle. A chunk of her heart will forever roam the world outside of her body. Will, bursting with pride and protective joy, encircling wife and baby. The wonder and the joy of it all is akin to ache.<br />
<br />
And the little Prince!! He's yummy! A squishy little guy. And completely oblivious. He doesn't care that there are a million camera lenses aimed at him. He's just snuggled up with his mamma. He'll squawk when he's hungry...and stink when he poops. In fact, he's not a whole lot different than the thousands of other babies born that day.<br />
<br />
Except for his destiny.<br />
<br />
And that was my ah-ha moment. Knowing destiny makes all the difference.<br />
<br />
It's what makes the difference in how we spend our time. The risks we take. The choices we make. Knowing our destiny inspires us to push forward. It lends courage. It makes the opinions of others matter less.<br />
<br />
Nehemiah had the destiny thing nailed. Even though he was terrified, he boldly asked for the impossible. Why? Because <i>God had put plans in his heart</i> for Jerusalem. He knew they weren't just his own good (crazy?) ideas. He <i>knew</i> they were God's plans. It seems everything that could go wrong did go wrong, but Nehemiah was undeterred in his vision. He was scoffed at, insulted and assaulted. His enemies went to ridiculous lengths to distract him but he remained calmly focused. "<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">I am in engaged in a <b>great work</b>, so I can't come. Why should I stop working to come and meet with you</span></i>?"<br />
<br />
This great work of Nehemiah's? It involved laying one stone on top of another, refusing to stop until it was done. Moment by moment unremarkable, yet worthy of opposition and epic in it's completion.<br />
<br />
You know the plans God has put in your heart. Maybe you're afraid to start or even to admit you know. Maybe you've believed the lies and insults of jealous and small-minded people. Maybe you feel you've disqualified yourself along the way. Maybe in the one-stone-after-another monotony you've forgotten that each stone is part of an epic destiny.<br />
<br />
It's time to silence the devices. Extinguish the flashing screens. <i>Be still</i> and <i>know</i> that He is God and <b>He's created you with a destiny</b>. What 'great work' is He calling you to?<br />
<br />
"<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">I am the Lord and there is no other. I publicly proclaim bold promises. I do not whisper obscurities in some dark corner. I would not have told the people of Israel to seek me if I could not be found..." </span></i><br />
<br />
Are you seekking? Does the answer sound too good to be true? Bigger than you? His plans usually do.<br />
<br />
I know the plans He's put in my heart though I might be afraid to spell them out for you. I have wavered and I have floundered. Felt disqualified by weakness rather than empowered by grace. Been cowered by taunts and afraid I'm getting it all wrong. But I'm picking up the next stone and praying you will too. Hopefully you have a Hanny and Otto to cheer you along to your glorious destiny.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">I knew you before I formed you in your mother's womb. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you... </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">You saw me before I was born...every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. </span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">The Lord called me before my birth; from within the womb he called me by name. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">He said, "You are my servant...and you will bring me glory."</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">"I, the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d;">have made you glorious."</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nehemiah 2 & 6</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Isaiah 45:18b-19</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Jeremiah 1:5</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Psalm 139:16</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Isaiah 49:1 & 3;</span></i><i style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> 55:5b</span></i></div>
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-52389456124627424532013-04-14T07:45:00.001-07:002013-04-14T07:45:18.592-07:00Where the Grass is Greener<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We sat across from each other over coffee and crumpled, crumby napkins, catching up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She told me how long her evenings had been with her hubby working extra hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I tried to feel compassionate but was mostly wondering how she could complain...after all she has three solid days of solitude every week. What I wouldn't give for that! I'm certain if I had 21 blessed hours of peace and quiet I could leap over tall buildings in a single bound.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I felt horrible immediately. If we had to pick challenges, I'd keep mine over hers any day. Yet there I was peering over the fence at her presumably greener grass. Because we have that kind of friendship, I confessed. She 'fessed up too. Apparently she'd been thinking my grass was looking pretty sweet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The seductive allure of that emerald green grass on the other side of the fence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I heard a message last summer about longing for your neighbor's greener grass, and how our own would be greener if we'd take care of the weeds. My head assented to the sound logic, but my heart was heavy. I know better than anyone else just how weedy my lawn is and how hard I've worked to eradicate all the nasties. How many times I've been certain that I finally annihilated one only to find it as hardy as a wretched dandelion. Exhausting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is, however, a place where the grass is green beyond my wildest dreams.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This green meadow is not of my own making. It's a place discovered while following the Shepherd. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I follow Him I have everything I need. He lets me <i>rest</i> in those green meadows. There He <i>renews</i> my strength.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He leads me in the paths of righteousness. He <i>wants</i> to. He's a shepherd. <i>He leads</i> me into righteousness--it's not the result of my own efforts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The key to greener pastures is not in seeking weeds, but in seeking the Shepherd. If you see a weed, by all means, ask the Shepherd how He wants you to deal with it. Otherwise, let's keep our eyes on the Shepherd and our ears tuned to His voice and follow. If you feel lost, find His voice in a favorite Psalm or begin to worship, giving thanks in all things. This will lead to pastures so green you'll never long for the turf on the other side of the fence again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Lord is my shepherd;</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have all that I need.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He lets me rest in green meadows;</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">he leads me beside peaceful streams.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He guides me along right path,</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">bringing honour to his name.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My cup overflows with blessings.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 23:1-3, 5b NLT</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-34692483244875284932013-04-03T20:20:00.001-07:002013-04-03T20:20:51.725-07:00Dance on Your Disappointment<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Monday we stood on the dusty roadside of a mountain pass peering under the open hood of our van. Acrid, too hot scent stinging our noses. An irregular knocking filling our ears. Only one set of eyes knew what they were seeing, but five hearts were sinking. We were supposed to be off on an adventure, having a change, a rest. The only wise choice was to turn around and try to get back to the nearest town.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Naturally, there were tears and questions. The little one leaned against me with a small sob and said, "We've had a lot of disappointments lately, Mommy." I knew she was thinking of the Big Disappointment which was now about six weeks past but still fresh in our hearts. Then she asked how I could bear this one. The simple answer was, "I know He loves me." Deeper than that, I had an epiphany right there in that melting mountain pass--I'd claimed Hope Territory in the time of the Big Disappointment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We'd gone more than three months with mom, the heart and soul of the family, out of commission. Quiet Christmas sans turkey dinner, limping along through the basics, postponing holidays, and continually praying for healing. Into the fourth month and there was a cancellation, they would take me in for surgery. Hope rose. Only to be crushed after hours of waiting. I'd have to be bumped to another day...a month away. We cried together, feeling quite like we'd been taken out at the knees. The long struggle had worn on us all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'd been sixteen hours without food, water or medication while waiting for my surgery. With all those needs finally met, I slipped into the blessed relief of sleep while my family cuddled together with a movie. A few hours later I returned to cognizance with one urgent thought, "You need to dance on this disappointment."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What a silly idea! And not because, as my curly-haired family frequently tells me, I dance like a white woman. Physically, I was no condition to dance and who dances anyway when they haven't got a clue how they're going to get through another month of <i>this</i>? But I know that Voice and I've learned it's worth listening to...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I found the song that said what I needed to say and I played it. On repeat. Loud enough to saturate my senses. And I sang and sang and twirled around as best I could until hope rose. I sang and twirled some more until I was bursting with hope. When I finally flopped down breathless I still didn't know how...how anything, but I knew that I knew that I knew that God loves me and that nothing is impossible for Him. I knew that as long as I could dance on my disappointment, thereby declaring my confidence in His goodness, He would make something glorious out of this whole big mess. For me and for my family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Navigating disappointment isn't easy. It's important to be honest and process our sadness. But we can't live there. Disappointment pulls with a tremendous gravitational force, trying to hold us down. Self pity encourages us to put down roots in that place. Disappointment is a place to go <i>through</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We can, in fact, be "<i>perplexed, but not in despair...cast down, but not destroyed</i>." Whether your setback is great or small, I encourage you to dance. Dance on your disappointment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dance. As though your life depends on it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord</b>,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>When they walk through the Valley of Weeping</b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>it will become a place of refreshing springs.</b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>They will continue to grow stronger,</b> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 84:5-7</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">2 Corinthians 4:8-10</span></div>
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-40098600187451269592013-03-31T06:19:00.000-07:002013-03-31T06:20:27.538-07:00The Basis of Hope<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She told me. Right to my face. She suspected that cheerful, hopeful people couldn't possibly be very intelligent. Really smart people comprehend the full ramifications of the dire straight that is the state of our universe. And it's impossible to be very hopeful or cheerful when you're so fully informed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I laughed. I really did. I couldn't help it! Maybe I didn't try, I don't know. It's just that this joy is irrepressible. Which probably confirmed her point.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It really is foolishness to believe that the impossible could be possible. To have hope when there's no hope of our circumstances changing. When the prognosis is bleak. When the relationship has been fragmented for years. When we've failed repeatedly to change.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's <i>utterly foolish</i> to believe that a crushed lifeless body, devoid of heartbeat for three days, could live again. Yet it happened. It's been historically validated and it's power is still evident in our lives. Even death is impotent in the presence of the Spirit of the Almighty God!</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>We have this hope that is an anchor for our souls...</i></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></b>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, this hope we have! It's so much more than a lackadaisical, Pollyannic good cheer. Much more substantial than the vapor that is the power of my own positive thinking which burns away quickly in the heat of the marathon. This hope we have is based in the resurrection. Every promise we've been given is backed by the same power that raised Jesus from the dead! This same power lives inside you who are called by His name.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Hebrews 6:19</i></span></span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-36543877300865827042013-03-29T16:12:00.002-07:002013-03-29T16:12:56.608-07:00The Bride PriceWhat on earth does Good Friday have to do with a wedding feast? How on earth could a bloody, gruesome death be connected to the finest of all occasions?<br />
<br />
Yet, it is.<br />
<br />
I can't quite bear to look straight at all that it meant for Christ, the perfect sinless Son of God, to be pierced and mangled and cast into hell on my behalf. Him, <i>tormented</i> in hell, <i>instead</i> of me. A glimpse is all it takes to send me to my knees...it's hard to breathe when I think of what He's spared me.<br />
<br />
How much more the crushing despair of the disciples? That ragtag lot who'd abandoned everything and placed their hope in this Messiah. They <i>saw</i> Him with their own eyes. Crushed and lifeless. <i>Their</i> sky turned black. They <i>felt </i>the earth heave beneath their feet. Terror and grief. Utter hopelessness.<br />
<br />
We have the privilege of knowing what those grieving disciples couldn't even imagine. It might be Friday, but Sunday is coming. We know the rest of the story...there's a resurrection.<br />
<br />
Not only is there a resurrection, but we're invited to a feast that trumps all feasts, not just as honored guests, but as the Bride herself!<br />
<br />
To we who have fallen in repentant grief at the foot of the cross, the risen Savior has come and lifted our faces to meet His eyes. His Spirit has called us to come...to be prepared for a Wedding Feast. This unfathomable groom doesn't just call us to the feast, but also provides the dowry and makes us His Bride.<br />
<br />
Good Friday is the invitation to the wedding. The invitation is open to everyone. Respond and receive the gift of freedom from the deadly cost of your sin. He paid the price willingly, even eagerly, so great is His longing for you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>"Come!" say the Spirit and the Bride.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>Whoever hears, echo, "Come!"</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>Is anyone thirsty? Come!</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>All who will, come and drink,</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><b>Drink freely of the Water of Life!</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Revelation 22:17</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-71675005862830420572013-03-21T16:54:00.001-07:002013-03-21T16:54:08.471-07:00Do Ya Dare?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hope is risky business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That sense of eager expectation. Anticipation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It involves vulnerability.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Only those who hope can be disappointed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Through all these months of medical ups and downs this purveyor of hope has been challenged. One disappointment and delay after another. There have been times when it felt like too much work, too much risk, too much potential pain...to dare hope again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cynicism is such excellent armour against disappointment. Funny and witty! Sophisticated, even. But in the alone times it's a soul desert devoid of real joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Between the proverbial rock and the hard place. To live without hope is to suffocate, but to hope again might be...will be, at times...costly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There really is nothing new under the sun and 3,500 years ago there was a group of people who had endured slavery for many years, enough generations to have hope bred right out of them. Along came Moses who told them that God says he's going to set you free! Yeah, right. They refused to listen. "<i>They had become too discouraged by the brutality of their slavery</i>." Who can blame them?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The good news? <b>The state of their emotions didn't change the nature of the One who promised or the power of the promise.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Actually, things got worse before they got better for those ancient people. It's often that way. Still the power of the promise was not lessened. Its fulfillment only nearer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The only difference between those who dared to hope and those who didn't was the joy they had in the waiting.</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Selah. Pause and think on that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Two weeks post surgery and I'm definitely feeling better. Dare I hope? I don't have the pathology report yet. What if...? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What if, indeed. I have a Papa who knows the contents of that report before it is even written. Not one iota of it will be a surprise to Him. And He is faithful. He will never leave me or forsake me. He delights in every detail of my life. His plans for me are good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pondering all of that goodness fuels hope.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><b><i>Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, </i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>fill you up with peace, </i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>so that your believing lives, </i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, </i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>will brim over with hope!</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Romans 15:13 MSG</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-61100975317658116062013-03-04T21:36:00.001-08:002013-03-04T21:37:53.848-08:00Perfect Weakness"My grace is sufficient...my strength is made perfect in weakness."<br />
<br />
I feel like I've known these words my whole life. In fact, I think my mother may have muttered them a lot. Moms need a lot of grace.<br />
<br />
They're beautiful words. Poetic.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, as I laid on a <a href="http://www.gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2013/01/coming-out.html">hospital bed</a> for hours, these words ran insistently through my heart, on repeat. I was hungry for understanding. <i>Needed</i> that strength.<br />
<br />
Weakness. It's not something I like. It might even be something I despise in myself. Okay, it is.<br />
<br />
Energy! Competence! Efficiency! Helpful! Those are my kind of words.<br />
<br />
And I am all too aware of their absence in my life. Recent weakness has been devoid of any loveliness, much less perfection. It's humbling me. It's costing others.<br />
<br />
Seeking and hungering for more, I found what I needed. Not in the morphine (though it was really lovely), but in the Greek dictionary on my smart phone. The deeper layers of meaning in the beautiful words. <br />
<br />
These words that were from the heart of God to Paul regarding physical weakness:<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;">My grace...</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
...<i>the merciful kindness by which God keeps, </i><i>strengthens, </i><i>increases faith, knowledge and affection...</i></div>
<br />
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;">...is sufficient for thee.</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>...to be strong, to be enough, to defend and ward off, as though raising a barrier.</i></div>
<br />
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;">For my strength...</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>...the inherent power of God which resides in him by virtue of his nature, a miraculous power...</i></div>
<br />
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;">...is made perfect...</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>...to carry though completely, to add what is yet wanting in order to render a thing full...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;">...in weakness.</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>...want of strength of the body (feebleness of health or sickness) </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>or of the soul (want of strength and required capacity).</i></div>
<br />
In other words,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">"Michelle (add your name), </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">I--your Heavenly Papa--</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"> gladly extend my merciful kindness to strengthen your faith </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">and your knowledge of My affection for you. </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">All that is in my nature I extend to you </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>to carry you through </i>completely<i>. </i></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">All that is in Me I extend to you</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"> to fill up what is lacking </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">in the strength of your body </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">and the capacity of your soul."</span></b></i></div>
<br />
It really is enough. <br />
<br />
It's for you too...whether its health in your body, mind, relationships...wherever the need. He will add to what is yet wanting in order to render a thing full. <br />
<br />
It's not you. It's Him. He will carry you through completely and make up all that you lack.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">2 Corinthians 12:9</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-30761915816373468802013-02-28T11:24:00.001-08:002013-02-28T11:24:36.309-08:00An Invitation to Trust<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It seems like it was ages ago, but perhaps it was only three months...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I was sitting, endless hours, in the waiting room. Keeping anxieties at bay with an ebook, but my reader died. Amusing myself listening to the darling nonagenarian blurting out commentary on the current state of affairs...but her name had been called. Along with almost everyone else. Wondering if they forgot me? If the pain in my bottom might soon be greater than the one on the inside? Shushing all the what ifs. Grasping at gratitude.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">A young, very young, woman came in with four little stair-step children, all preschoolers I would guess, the youngest still in a carrier. They quietly followed her through the registration process in wide-eyed silence. In a little row, they filed along and sat down across from me. Six big eyes stared at me. Six little legs swung. Six little hands folded in three little laps. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">This is usually when I begin to bemoan the fact that my children seem to be completely devoid of whatever gene is required for such calm and orderly behaviour...</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Just then a large and odd looking bath chair contraption rattled by. Six wondering eyes followed and then turned to mamma. She smiled.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">A nursed wheeled a severely handicapped woman by and legs stopped swinging. Once out of sight all eyes turned to mamma. She smiled. Legs resumed swinging and eyes watched.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">An eerie cry echoed down the hall. Eyes widened and turned to mamma. She smiled...extra reassuringly. Shoulders relaxed and legs swung again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Babies cried. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Nurses called out. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Alarms rang. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Six little eyes sought mamma's and she smiled.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It was enough. For now. Maybe answers would come later. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">My turn finally came. Kind nurses and gentle doctors did all they could but they couldn't budge the system. Anxiety rose. Uncertainty and pain are a nasty combination.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Then I remembered. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Seek His eyes. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">He smiled reassuringly and invited me to trust.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">My shoulders relaxed. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Months have passed. Waiting has wearied. Uncertainty has vexed. Friends have hugged and prayed. I've fallen apart and gotten up again. Panic rises quickly when the mind is focused on the pain.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">However, I've had frequent reminders of those six little eyes and six swinging</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"> legs. Every time I remember, I seek His eyes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Every time I find His eyes are already upon me, anticipating my need.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">All I can see is love. And an invitation to trust.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It is enough.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">For today.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Maybe all the questions will be answered someday when we go Home.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">For now the warmth of His tender gaze is enough.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><i>I will be with you, and I will protect you wherever you go...</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><i>I will be with you constantly </i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><i>until I have finished giving you everything I have promised.</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><div style="display: inline !important;">
<b><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Whom have I in heaven but you?</span></i></b></div>
</b></div>
<b><div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>I desire you more than anything on earth.</i></b></div>
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i>My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i>but God remains the strength of my heart;</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i>He is mine forever!</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Genesis 28:15</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 73:25-26</span>
</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">NLT</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-60443395602219697032013-02-20T17:54:00.001-08:002013-02-20T19:57:42.421-08:00The Original Ideal WomanA few weeks ago I came out of the closet about some of my health issues. I <i>think</i> I even promised to be more vulnerable in my writing. Well, this could be more than you bargained for...<br />
<br />
Four months now I have been inactive. Not only am I not exercising in any formally recognizable manner, I find myself moving as little as possible in all matters of daily living. It's just a little less painful that way. There's a geeky corner of my brain that would like to calculate the precise number of unburned calories this would amount to, but the rest of my brain is currently too doped to quite make sense of the numbers. Add to that fact, the current disturbance in my pelvis is causing some bloat-like symptoms...and, well, none of my clothes fit. Except for the stretchy ones, that is. I've become adept at all kinds of wardrobe disguises, but nothing hides the bare facts. <i>Bare</i> facts.<br />
<br />
Full disclosure: I also ate a lot of barbeque chips on the way home last night. More than anyone needs to...however many that is. They were <i>so good</i>. Anyway, now that you know that...<br />
<br />
More vulnerable means admitting that I looked at an old picture and found myself wishing I was that thin again. I <i>detest</i> of this kind of thinking!<br />
<br />
When I taught English to recent immigrants I learned how absolutely cultural are our concepts of beauty. My Asian students commented when they thought I was getting "fatter" (ya gotta love the lack of euphemisms in a limited vocabulary!) and my African students thought I was too skinny. I vowed to remember that beauty is culturally defined, therefore hardly a standard to be too worried about.<br />
<br />
<i>Three times</i> this week I had encounters with other women wherein the issues of weight and body image came up. Sigh. I look at my beautiful friends and I love <i>them</i>. I have written posts about how God made us beautiful and I believe it with all my heart.<br />
<br />
However, all this excellent head knowledge isn't helping me one bit this week. You're in luck though--I am going to share a thought that has helped a lot...<br />
<br />
I'm about to let you in on a little unscientific and perhaps unorthodox theory I have: I don't think Eve looked like Megan Fox. Seriously. <br />
<br />
When God created woman...it seems likely that He would create the most beautiful woman possible. Keeping in mind that he created peacocks and the Himalayas, His ability is obvious. Yet she probably didn't look a bit like any magazine cover we've seen.<br />
<br />
The beauty of this original woman inspired her name. When Adam saw her he said, "Whoa, man!!" and we've been called "whoa-man" or "woman" ever since.<br />
<br />
Have you seen pictures of the oldest human bones that have been discovered? Apparently, scientists think they're about 7,000 years old (which coincidentally lines up with the general timeline of when Eve would likely have walked the earth). I sincerely doubt that she was hairy like an ape, but the general shape is pretty clear:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKUSwAjzDuz5EbsHXBEjif6vIundxu-6YHpbHnFtGaQCpYhGDSfs-tH8jq7B0qZ6ZoCp9AO5gqQZm6o3WdGMVOx91pVzNuec8QfhgnRhEklMj7ztqgbVVrYsWoy9z3N4IxCOmijxsXA/s1600/oldest+woman-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKUSwAjzDuz5EbsHXBEjif6vIundxu-6YHpbHnFtGaQCpYhGDSfs-tH8jq7B0qZ6ZoCp9AO5gqQZm6o3WdGMVOx91pVzNuec8QfhgnRhEklMj7ztqgbVVrYsWoy9z3N4IxCOmijxsXA/s400/oldest+woman-001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
The good news, sisters? We look more like the original ideal woman than like Paris Hilton. <br />
<br />
Just sayin'.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Splendor and beauty mark his craft...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 111:3a</span></i></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-88873245963248728272013-01-23T17:42:00.001-08:002013-01-23T17:42:10.160-08:00An Autographed Original<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Someone posted this silly picture on Facebook recently:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbHZSxCS1svk06w9LqZazK_REtdXxw8siNp31dQU5xPK95JSgrqKN-75OXqEzf9AiA6BaI4jGlZfAmuGU6mHyDsH6yVdSFntInAIBvdSGf6yc3ujhSZMyKXJDCaynRQJ4nJ1LN74wzQ/s1600/207821_152413628241721_185167214_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbHZSxCS1svk06w9LqZazK_REtdXxw8siNp31dQU5xPK95JSgrqKN-75OXqEzf9AiA6BaI4jGlZfAmuGU6mHyDsH6yVdSFntInAIBvdSGf6yc3ujhSZMyKXJDCaynRQJ4nJ1LN74wzQ/s320/207821_152413628241721_185167214_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My first thought was that it would be sooooo cool to have a copy of the Bible with God's signature on it! What would it look like? Or would it be autographed by Moses, David, Matthew...? A variety a scripts and scrawls?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The thoughts were barely formed before I heard the whisper, "<b><i>I've autographed your heart.</i></b>"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which choked me up immediately... My heart. Signed by God? The God that made the northern lights and wove the delicate lace of the snow flakes. The God who pulls children onto His lap and raises the dead. The God who sets the captives free. <i>His </i>signature on <i>my</i> heart?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I vaguely remembered a verse that said something like that...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> "<span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>You are a letter written not with ink </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>but with the Spirit of the living God. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>You are a letter written not on tablets made out of stone</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i> but on human hearts".</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">But isn't my heart "deceitful above all things and desperately wicked"? I used to think that was talking about me. There's certainly enough evidence to prove the point. I don't know how it was that a little girl would know that verse so well without knowing the rest of the story...</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">The part where we cry out, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>"O Lord, if you heal me, I will be truly healed;</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i> if you save me, I will be truly saved."</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">And He responds, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>"I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean...</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i>I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i> <b>I will take out your stony, stubborn heart </b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i><b>and give you a tender, responsive heart. </b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; line-height: 18px;"><i><b>And I will put my Spirit in you..."</b></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b><i>Tender. Responsive. Filled with His Spirit!</i></b> Given when we ask that He would heal and save us. An extravagant grace that takes your breath away. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">On that new heart He's writing a letter. It's a story of redemption The story of a deceitful and wicked heart that is made new and chooses love. It's so extraordinary that there is no question that this "great power is from God, not from ourselves." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">That letter He's writing on your heart is precious. I <i>need</i> to read it...it gives me hope. With trepidation I share the letter He's writing on my heart...it's a love letter, a promise that He makes all things new, makes all things possible.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">That tender, responsive heart, filled with His Spirit... A gift. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">An autographed original.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;">2 Corinthians 3:3 NIRV; </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Jeremiah 17:9 KJV</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Jeremiah 17:14 NLT; </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Ezekiel 36:25 NLT</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">2 Corinthians 4:7 NLT</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-37053642797695949132013-01-07T17:08:00.001-08:002013-01-08T07:04:27.824-08:00That Stuff on the Wall<span style="font-size: large;">"I need some of that stuff on the wall."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Mystified, I glanced around...at animal posters, a string of Christmas lights, the skin of a long-dead critter, an adorable baby picture, and...cooties, definitely cooties. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not enlightened, I had to ask, "What stuff on the wall, Buddy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You know, the stuff you need all the time. The letters you put on the wall." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm somewhat strangled by emotion. Laughter and tears <i>can</i> be felt at the same time. Intensely.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The "stuff" I "need...<i>all</i> the time." It appears that I have modelled failure...often? I know immediately to what stuff on the wall he refers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Those letters I have stencilled on the wall in the hub of my home where they are needed often and desperately. G...R...A...C...E. <a href="http://gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2011/09/grace.html">Grace</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His cry for grace pierces my heart. I burrow through tangled covers to wrap my arms around the sweating, heaving chest because I absolutely cannot refuse this cry for grace. Impossible to be anything other than entreated.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"<i>So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask Him...</i>"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Indeed. Why do I hesitate? Frantically, foolishly, trying to remove stains with my own filthy hands. Desperately trying to undo what's been done. Justify. Defy. Clarify. Who did what and when. You. Me. Us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What has been done cannot often be undone. There is only one glorious cure. Grace. His divine presence entering the mess we've made. Empowering the wronged to forgive. Granting the guilty the privilege of standing free of shame. <i>All</i> to be made beautiful. Even that which cannot be undone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Those letters have marked that spot for much more than a year, but it was only today that I recognized the irony of the fact that the "time out" bench has sat beneath those letters all this while. The spot in which one sits to catch one's breath, to breathe deeply before any more words explode. The spot to think for a moment before anything else thoughtless erupts into the atmosphere. The spot one only gets sent to when it's too late. When the damage has been done.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Except for grace.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b>"So let us boldly approach the throne of grace. </b></span></i><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i>
</b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b>Then we will receive mercy.</b></span></i></div>
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i>
</b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b>We will find grace to help us when we need it."</b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Boldly approach...receive...grace...we need.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Come and sit with me a while? Let's stay long enough. Long enough to soak up so much grace that all shame and distress is washed away. Long enough that grace begins to run over and wash the chip off the shoulder. Long enough to be filled to overflowing with grace for that one who feels like a thorn in my side, a pebble in your shoe, the spark to our fuse. Long enough to worship.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Let's<i> rest</i> a while under the writing on the wall.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because we <i>all</i> "need some of that stuff on the wall."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Matthew 7:11 NLT</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hebrews 4:16 NIRV</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-41804443008120739302013-01-01T18:54:00.002-08:002013-01-01T18:54:39.671-08:00Coming OutI didn't mean not to tell you. In the beginning it just didn't seem like a big deal.<br />
<br />
When it became a big deal I couldn't figure out how to casually mention it. It would have been awkward to suddenly shout into the blogosphere that I felt like I was dying! No one likes a drama queen. Or a hypochondriac.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to worry anyone. Honestly.<br />
<br />
Sometimes we need to process a bit before sharing. This is true.<br />
<br />
Besides, the internet is rife with "too much information"! VERY true.<br />
<br />
Then the medication made my brain so foggy I was sure nothing I could write would have made sense anyway (though I've enjoyed a few blogs that I'm pretty sure were written in a chemically-induced haze). I hated feeling so dull and inarticulate!<br />
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It was just awkward!<br />
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It took over everything until really there was nothing else I<i> could </i>have written about.<br />
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Little threads of pride were woven through the strands of common sense.<br />
<br />
I missed you.<br />
<br />
One day I found myself with a fresh wind of hope but I didn't know how to go about sharing it as I'd been so reticent. How could I explain without explaining? But if I <i>don't</i> share...well, you know, I'm quite sure I might burst.<br />
<br />
"<i>My purpose in writing is to encourage you...</i>" Ah, yes. And <b>how can one encourage unless they've been in need of it themselves? </b>Hope isn't hope unless it's what you're hanging on to when there's little reason to hope. <br />
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How do you get yourself out of a tangle once tangled?<br />
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Apologizing is almost always an excellent place to start. <br />
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I'm sorry, truly sorry, that I've been awkward...and prideful...I really didn't set out to exclude you. I'm sorry that I haven't invited you to share my burdens. So now I will share the struggle. Without acknowledging the struggle, the encouragement really is quite meaningless.<br />
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I've been unwell for a couple of months now. Many trips to outpatients, clinics, and specialists, poking, prodding, jabbing, stabbing and scanning have lead the reassuring news that I'm not at risk of dying imminently. Organs are malfunctioning, but I don't really need them any more anyway. I would prefer to keep them, but not if they keep this up!<br />
<br />
I apologize for not telling you about... <br />
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~ The incredible peace that prevails even when you're panicking. Isn't that a contradiction? Oh, no! The body is crying out for relief, but the spirit is anchored in the Love of the Father. This is the promised peace that passes understanding<i> and it's very real</i>.<br />
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~ The day, the very worst day of almost unbearable pain, when four couples came and gathered around me and they prayed for me and for each member of our family and it's never been quite as bad since. They wrapped us in love, physically manifesting the love Jesus has for the hurting. I long for instant miracles, but I mark that day as the day something changed, slowly but definitely.<br />
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~ The good news that the change was enough to avoid having surgery just days before Christmas. It wouldn't have been the end of the world, but I count it a blessing!<br />
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~ The way I was able to shop just enough and to know that we had all we needed. Christmas was simple, but more than enough.<br />
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~ That Jesus was born into awkward and He invites us to be unafraid.<br />
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~ That there are things I don't understand about God. I truly don't. But this I know, no-word-of-a-lie, look-you-in-the-eye, truth: He is good. He is very, very good. We can trust Him. Even when we don't understand.<br />
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There's more, much more. Maybe now that I've come out in the open about it, I'll be able to share.<br />
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For now, please pray for the healing to be complete! I long to get back in the saddle! I've got places to go, people to meet, kids to raise, and blogs to write!<br />
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I resolve to be vulnerable.<br />
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Love and blessings, <br />
<br />
Happy New Year!<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-35129624901189171512012-12-16T14:12:00.000-08:002012-12-16T16:17:05.247-08:00Celebration of WaitingAdvent...it's a celebration of waiting...which makes no sense at all.<br />
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Who likes waiting? <br />
<br />
I'm waiting for something. Urgently. This waiting is sort of consuming my life, blocking out the big picture. I feel like I can't get on with things until the waiting is over.<br />
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My kids are waiting too. They can hardly stand the wondering if they'll find what they desire most under the tree on Christmas morning. <br />
<br />
We're all waiting for something...<br />
<br />
So we need this season of celebrating waiting. We're remembering that even though the waiting was long, oh, so very long, the Promise came. We're remembering all the waiting that ended with fulfilment. Some of the waiting was hope-filled and some was anguished and despair-filled. <b> The fulfilment wasn't dependent upon the emotions of the those who waited but on the nature of the One who promised.</b> This is really good news for me.<br />
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Three hundred plus promises...endless waiting...and every promise was fulfilled. Every single one. <br />
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The Son of God, Immanuel, became flesh and lived among us. Light entered the darkness and nothing, absolutely nothing...no maniacal killer, no unfaithful friend, no sickness or sorrow...can EVER extinguish that light.<br />
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I don't understand the waiting. Truly I don't. Today seems as good a day as any for the waiting to end. But this I know: <b>the waiting doesn't diminish the power of the promise</b>.<br />
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This is the promise I'm holding on to today...<br />
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<i>A child has been born--for us! </i></div>
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<i>The gift of a son--for us! </i></div>
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<b><i>...and there will be no limits to the wholeness he brings!</i></b></div>
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No limits.</div>
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Wholeness.</div>
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Come, Lord Jesus, come.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Isaiah 9:6-7 MSG</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Revelation 22:20</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-21352109792201337682012-11-22T18:42:00.001-08:002012-11-22T18:42:16.902-08:00Adoption - The Rest of My Brother StoryAs usual, when I write <a href="http://www.gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2012/11/adopted.html">a post in which I feel I am completely undressing my heart publicly</a>, I get an overwhelming response. And I am undone. Again and again. His grace and His glory shine in the vulnerable places...<br />
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Some of you would like to know more of the <a href="http://www.gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2012/11/adopted.html">adoption</a> story because you're on your own journey of Big Questions. I will gladly share more of mine!<br />
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This little-brother-by-choice went off on his own. He sought and found his birth mother, but that didn't work out in a way that anyone desired. Understandably. I grieved that she would feel she had failed her son twice. I wish I could find her and tell her about grace.<br />
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We rarely knew where he was. The nature of his disability is that it's very hard for him to hold down a job or function as a normal adult so he lives a transient life. Because he's quite childlike, he's easily led. This got him into trouble before and was the thing I dreaded most--that and the possibility he might be preyed upon by perverts.<br />
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Many nights I would lie awake and wonder where he was. Alive or dead? Hungry? Safe? I remember one night in particular...I could not sleep and tried to lift all my anxious thoughts in prayer. I imagine that it reached the Father's ears in a cacophony of anxiety and fear mixed with genuine love. I'm so grateful that He blows away the chaff of unbelief and gets to the heart of the longing.<br />
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The <i>next day</i> I got a phone call from my brother. He was so excited to tell me how he'd been hitch-hiking in the middle of the night (that didn't calm my anxiety one bit!) and how the soles of his boots had fallen off and he was walking barefoot. A trucker stopped to pick him up (my unbelieving heart leaped in fear again). This trucker took him to a store (in the middle of the night?) and bought him new boots and a warm jacket. Then he took him to KFC for a hot meal. According to my brother, this man then "disappeared". He was so excited about his new coat and boots--he hadn't a second thought for the mystery. I could barely breathe and I certainly couldn't contain the flow of tears. Man or angel, I know not. This I do know: my Father heard my prayers and He really, really wanted me to know that my love is but a drop in the ocean of His compassion! I can trust Him to care for and watch over my broken brother.<br />
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I had a lot more peace about him after this. My prayers held more faith and less fear. I'm also very grateful that he calls from time-to-time. Someone lets him use their phone to call and I get to hear his voice and have a general idea of his location.<br />
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In the summer of 2008 we were holidaying in the area where he was living. I knew he had a job as a dishwasher in a road house. I prayed he would call and he did so we made a plan to connect. I wasn't absolutely sure he'd be there, but as we pulled into a dusty parking lot by a derelict road house, I saw a fellow that must be my brother. He ran sobbing into my arms. The emaciated, toothless, unwashed body held the heart of my little-boy brother seeking comfort. Our tears mingled and that dusty corner became holy ground while my kids looked on in wonder.<br />
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We broke bread together in the road house. A surreal experience. It was a place unlike any other in which I'd ever eaten--I felt as though we were literally glowing in the dark. I tried to absorb the fact that this man was the brother I hadn't seen for eighteen years. All the while being mother to three kids who were trying to sort out this experience. Was this man who looked unlike any they'd ever met really their uncle? Why didn't he have teeth? They tried to be polite and look away when he laughed in all the wrong places and talked way too loudly, but mostly they stared. And he was delighted! Delighted to be hosting <i>his</i> family. He wanted to tell everyone I was his sister and he was an uncle and...and my heart ached because we all need to belong to somebody.<br />
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He was especially proud to introduce me to one of the waitresses. Her face and her eyes were far older than her years. She was tough, yet when she looked at my brother there was a motherly tenderness. As she refilled my coffee cup, she rasped into my ear that she was happy to meet me and that I shouldn't worry as she was looking out for him. I stopped to hug her long and hard when I left.<br />
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I could hardly stand to leave. I longed to fatten him, put him in a shower, give him clean clothes...but he'd refused that kind of help. I had to let go, recognize that I am not his rescuer. Place him in the hands of my Father. Trust. And give thanks for mysterious truck drivers, crusty waitresses, "some guy" who's letting him stay in a cabin, for the knack he has with small engines, for a welfare system that does help those who simply cannot, for random phone calls, and most of all for a Father who never abandons the helpless.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>Father to the fatherless,</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>defender of widows--</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>this is God, whose dwelling is holy.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>God places the lonely in families;</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 68:5-6</span></i></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-2445110107746640502012-11-21T21:52:00.001-08:002012-11-21T21:52:38.957-08:00Adopted<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was five when a baby boy was delivered to our door and I became big sister again. I remember that day--so much excitement for a little girl. I'd enjoyed our visits with the social worker and tried hard to appear the kind of girl that would make a good big sister. Apparently, I had succeeded and now this squalling bundle was ours. To keep! He was ours and we were his.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYsxQmwV8DXuJ9ZngFroP672OZVJthzJ0alFbLvOu8HCALNKbkIvY04RpQXZEyeU0zDAn7311q8LnIrl9muHjpNOFG4FfJUmfN4K4pJ04p4YSWcemIDeuEF24dFnkXcFD18e7jIeT5Q/s1600/Michelle+&+Kevin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYsxQmwV8DXuJ9ZngFroP672OZVJthzJ0alFbLvOu8HCALNKbkIvY04RpQXZEyeU0zDAn7311q8LnIrl9muHjpNOFG4FfJUmfN4K4pJ04p4YSWcemIDeuEF24dFnkXcFD18e7jIeT5Q/s320/Michelle+&+Kevin.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Squall, he did! A lot. There were some nasty marks on his little body too, not placed by love. Everything about him called my fledgling feminine heart to nurture. I loved him fiercely. Surely enough loving nurture would heal it all. That's what they told families in the early '70s. Treat him like you treat your own and all will be well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course, it became obvious before too long that this wasn't quite true--what could you do but keep on trying? It was almost twenty years before adoption records were opened, testing done, and we learned new words like "fetal alcohol syndrome". Too late for much intervention; small comfort that there was an explanation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now this boy was a man though his body contained a mind that had not properly developed to adulthood. He carried our family name--a rare and unusual name in Canada--out into the world...and into the news. The day I received the news was the only time in my life that I have literally wailed in anguish of heart. I could not hold it in though others tried desperately to shush me. All the years of trying. All the grief over a child who didn't choose, but had a teen barely old enough to manage her own life devastate his with drug use. The pain had multiplied, reaching out to ravage others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was also ashamed. That name in the news? It was my name. I was ashamed and at the same time ashamed of being ashamed. My brave parents had bestowed their good name on a child in an act of love and it had been tarnished. Rather publicly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I never think of this without thinking of the Good Name I've been given. The Name that is above all names, granted to me with reckless abandon, without hesitation, with a furious love. <i>He adopted me, He chose me, and made me His own</i>. I am a child of God and I wear the name <i>Christ</i>ian.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This too has been awkward, as it associates me with those who claim the same name, but have used it to wreak war, havoc, and judgement. I've barely done the name justice... If He was unafraid to share His good name with the likes of me, what shall I do with it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Boldly</b> declare that He is a God of fantastic love that embraces the weak and imperfect... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Humbly</b> extend the grace of His love that can never be earned, but is generously given...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Pray</b> for those wounded by lies about His beautiful character... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Seek</b> opportunities to repair the breach. .. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Be consumed by that Love.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. </b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> </span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”</b></i></span></span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Romans 8:15</b></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>How great is the love the Father has <u>lavished</u> on us,</b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!</b></i></span></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>1 John 3:1</b></i></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>I will be a Father to you,</b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><b>and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.</b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>2 Corinthians 6:17-18</b></i></span></span></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-17646849625728821042012-11-11T17:41:00.000-08:002012-11-11T17:41:45.822-08:00The Joyful Liberator<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the Day for Remembering...our annual pause to seriously focus on honouring those who have given their lives for our freedom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Once again I tell my <a href="http://gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2010/11/liberation.html">favourite story</a> of the day my father's village was liberated, of handsome Canadian soldiers, and joyful freedom dancing in the streets. I want my kids to know. It's their story. I want them to pass it on to their kids. They <i>need</i> to know that at one time their ancestors were captives and that others paid the ultimate sacrifice to bring freedom. The life they enjoy today was purchased at great cost by others. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The story segues easily into the ultimate <a href="http://gottashareorburst.blogspot.ca/2011/11/freedom.html">liberation story</a>. We who were once captives have had our freedom purchased by One who lived in perfect glory but willingly gave up paradise to live among us and ultimately die so that we can live.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did so willing. "<i>Because of the joy awaiting Him</i>." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I used to think this "joy awaiting" was the privilege of being seated at the right hand of the Father. But He'd already been with the Father. He didn't need to endure the cross to <i>gain</i> that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think the joy awaiting Him was the joy of seeing you and I set free! His death on the cross purchased healing for the broken hearted...liberty for captives...prisoners set free...joy for those who mourn...beauty for ashes... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anticipation of all that redemption was enough to make him "disregard the shame of the cross." It was nothing to Him in comparison to <span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>the joy of seeing you and I set free</b></span> from the chains that bind us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He loves you so much! He wants to you be free from anxiety, shame, the weariness of carrying overwhelming burdens. <span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>He is your joyful liberator</b></span>. Your freedom is worth everything to Him...so much that a hideous death was nothing in comparison. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Reach for it. Receive it. Savour the freedom. Worship.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i> <span style="color: #134f5c;">But now, by giving himself completely at the cross, </span></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">actually </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">dying</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> for you, </span></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Christ brought you over to God’s side and put your lives together, </i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: inherit;"><b><i>whole and holy in his presence.</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Colossians 1:22 MSG</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hebrews 12:2; Isaiah 61:1-3</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-551780959707088812012-10-19T11:35:00.001-07:002012-10-19T11:35:33.772-07:00Who do You Smell Like?I've been missing my friend Connie. She moved this summer and I haven't seen her for a few months. She taught piano lessons to my kids and I loved that we had a scheduled "check in". Just a moment in the doorway when we'd look into each other's eyes to see what really was the answer to, "How are you?" We'd know. Then we'd exchange a quick hug and I'd be off to make dinner and she to teach another lesson. <br />
<br />
Later on I'd catch a whiff of her lovely perfume...I could smell a trace of her scent left on my clothing from our hug. I loved it. It's not so much that I loved the aroma as much as all the joy and affection that I associate with it.<br />
<br />
Every single time this happened I would wonder what sort of scent I had been leaving behind... Not literally--though I am fairly paranoid about body odour--but figuratively. The answer to that question lies in what I've been soaking. <br />
<br />
Some days it's the cesspool of self-pity or ingratitude. I may as well get real--cesspool is just a fancy word for septic tank. So if that's what I've been soaking in, I'm going to leave behind a, well, crappy scent. You'll be so glad you hung out with me...or not.<br />
<br />
If my heart has been bent toward gratitude, I'm likely to leave behind a much more pleasant scent.<br />
<br />
There's a fragrance I want to leave more than any other...the essence of the incredible Love that has rescued me. I want you to know that no matter how terrible your day has been, no matter the challenges you're facing, no matter how miserably you've failed...there is One whose arms are wide open, longing to pour healing and hope-filled Love into you.<br />
<br />
His name is Jesus.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But thank God!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He...</i><i>continues to lead us along in Christ's triumphal procession.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere,</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>like a sweet perfume.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">2 Corinthians 2:14 NLT</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-73586457176287117182012-10-11T07:41:00.000-07:002012-10-11T07:41:41.327-07:00Crazy but True<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She sits alone in the crowd. All the other moms are in little groups, chatting. She radiates isolation. And I <i>know.</i> I know. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I've known isolation...and received healing Love that trumps the love of a hundred friends. I also know that this Love was made to pass on...sigh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I've said hello before and tried to strike up a conversation. It was about as much fun as a tooth extraction. I've done enough today. Given all I have to give. Jeepers, can't it be someone else's turn? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These thoughts are pathetic at best... despicable really. Jesus gave me Love that pulled me out of a pit of hopelessness and I must, must pass it on. I'm compelled...not by a "should" but by gratitude. But I'm not feeling it at the moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
So I ask for the will, the <i>want</i>, from the One who promises to give "<i>the <b>desire </b>and the <b>power</b> to do what pleases Him</i>." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
How crazy is that?? He's lavished an incredible, extravagant, live-changing love on me. I balk and whine about passing it on. Rather than strike me with a cosmic lightening bolt, He offers to help me. <b>He grants <i>desire</i> and <i>power</i> to do what pleases Him. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />So many times I've thought He was angry with me, thought He'd rejected me because I couldn't get it right...and I couldn't have been more wrong. He's there--ready, willing, eager to offer all the resources of heaven.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's just waiting for my yes. Yes, I'm willing to be made willing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Sometimes His grace seems too amazing! What can I do but fall more wildly, more crazily in love with Him? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
And greet a lonely stranger. :-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup class="versenum" style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </sup><span style="background-color: white;">“O </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white;">, there is no one like you. </span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>We have never even heard of another God like you!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">1 Chronicles 17:20</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Philippians 2:13</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-78860090025121931682012-10-02T21:53:00.000-07:002012-10-02T21:53:03.594-07:00Surrounded<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>For the Lord your God will go ahead of you...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Father goes before me in this day.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To make a way through the challenges,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>and</i> to prepare blessings.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Yes, the God of Israel will protect you from behind.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Papa's got my back.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>He will cover you with his feathers. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>He will shelter you with his wings.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm covered, sheltered by His love.</span></div>
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>The eternal God is your refuge, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>and his everlasting arms are under you.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He holds me up.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm supported by His love</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>I will give you a new heart, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>and I will put a new spirit in you...</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>I will put my Spirit in you.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">His Spirit. Inside me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Ahead. Behind. Beside. Under. Within.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have nothing to fear.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Isaiah 53:12b; Psalm 91:Deuteronomy 33:27, Ezekiel 36:26-27</i></span>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-55937156556466819262012-09-19T20:45:00.000-07:002012-09-19T20:45:49.613-07:00Not Obligated<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My dad fixes everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My husband fixes everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is how they show their love. Dull knives get sharpened, squeaky hinges get oiled, loose screws get tightened. It's what they do. It's one of the things I love about them!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The little one once said, "Dad has all the tricks that work." She and her siblings have never worried a day in their life that broken things can't be fixed. Of course they can! Dad will do it. We should have shares in the super glue company by now, he's fixed so many broken things...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know this could sound like utopia to some. Trust me, I'm thankful. I've lost sleep thinking of how utterly incompetent I am to live life without them (but that's a topic for another post).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I understand faithfulness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's not hard for me to believe that God can be counted on to help, to take care of things, to fix the messes we make.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Guess what? Even with such faithful men to model His love, I still have lots to learn about His nature. You-know-who will use any means possible to rob us of the joy of Papa's love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It came to me as a total surprise that Papa God <i>delights</i> in me. As in, dancing-and-singing-over-you-with-joy delight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I unpacked that revelation I realized that I'd been thinking God was faithful to me out of <i>obligation</i> rather than affection. Unconsciously I believed His thoughts went something like this: "Of course I'll forgive you, *sigh*, it's what I do because I'm good. Of course, I'll help you, *sigh*, it's my nature to do it so I must. *Sigh*." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In my heart of hearts I believed I was God's <i>duty</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's such a wild and crazy, hugely breathtaking thought, that I can hardly type it out loud, but it's such good news that I have to say it, "He <i>delights</i> in me! He <i>delights</i> in you!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not because He <i>has</i> to. Because He <i>wants</i> to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not because of anything you did or didn't do, but just because you're you--His kid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"He will <b>rejoice</b> over you with great <b>gladness</b>...He will <b>exult</b> over you by <b>singing a happy song</b>." </i> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Zeph 3:17 NLT)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"I <b>looked forward</b> to your calling me 'Father'." </i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Jeremiah 3:19 NLT)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"You are safe in the care of the Lord your God, secure in His <b>treasure pouch</b>." </i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(1 Sam. 25:29 NLT)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Now you are my <b>friends</b>...I <b>chose</b> you."</i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> (John 15:15-16 NLT)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The more I learn of His love, the more I love Him! If I don't share, I might burst! ;-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>We, though, are going to love - love and be loved.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> First we were loved, now we love. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><i>He loved us first.</i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">1 John 4:19 MSG</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-1580871516755818372012-07-11T20:15:00.000-07:002012-07-11T20:15:05.560-07:00Joy FuelIt sneaks up behind me and clutches my heart with icy fingers: I haven't done enough. I should have done more. It might be too late. What if, what if, what if...and my heart takes off on a hamster wheel of worry. <br />
<br />
Joy leaks out of my heart like the strength leaving my knees. <br />
<br />
Motherhood. I love my kids more than anything. I want to do it right. Love them well. Teach them everything they need to know to live a pain-free life. Seriously. You scoff because it's ridiculous, but look into the sweet faces of your own babies and ask yourself if you don't wish the same?<br />
<br />
It's absolutely true that I haven't done very many (any?) things perfectly and only some things well. Too late? I don't know. The experts say that the preschool years are the most formative and I wouldn't say I did my best parenting then. What if it is too late for some things? What if they do make some terrible choices that hurt...themselves...others...me? Anxiety can be the worst kind of agony.<br />
<br />
I fling myself at His feet, begging for mercy for my children, for some kind of second chance, for a "get out of jail free card"--and I find love-filled eyes. Did He not come just because He knew we'd never get it all right? Is it not His nature to create beauty out of ashes? To bind up the broken-hearted? To help desperate parents and imperfectly parented children?<br />
<br />
A breath of hope.<br />
<br />
Grace.<br />
<br />
It's not an excuse for sloppy parenting. It is hope for those who are doing their imperfect best. <span style="background-color: white;">I make an idol of myself and my abilities when I think it all depends on my capacity to parent perfectly.</span><br />
<br />
He loves my kids with a passion that's far greater than a mother's love. <span style="background-color: white;"><b> I can trust Him</b>. He put His life on the line for their redemption. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Trust</b>. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Joy</b> begins to well up and strengthen my feeble knees. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Trust fuels joy</b>.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The LORD is my strength, my shield from every danger. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I <b>trust</b> in him with all my heart. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I burst out in songs of thanksgiving</b>. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 28:7 NLT</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Oh, the <b>joys</b> of those who <b>trust</b> the LORD!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 40:4a NLT</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>O LORD Almighty, <b>happy</b> are those who <b>trust</b> in you!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Psalm 84:12 NLT</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Those who <b>trust</b> the LORD will be<b> happy</b>.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Proverbs 16:20b NLT</span> </i>
</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70944325357610364.post-91108429769525517742012-06-29T19:27:00.001-07:002012-06-29T19:27:15.830-07:00Overflowing Joy"<i>I have told you these things so that <b>you will be filled with my joy</b>. Yes your <b>joy will overflow</b>!"</i><br />
<br />
These words, surfacing over and over again in my thoughts, just savouring them making me feel joyful... What precisely did he tell us so that we would be filled to overflowing with joy?<br />
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"<i>I have loved you..remain in my love..."</i><br />
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He loves you. Remain in--be vitally connected to--that love. Let His love be the source of your life. Then you will overflow with joy...<br />
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As soon as the source of your life is the approval of others, the comfort of your circumstances, your sense of control over your life, the behavior of your children/siblings/friends...the joy begins to drain away.<br />
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Remain. <i>Stay </i>vitally connected to His love that never fails, is unconditional, that supersedes all circumstances...and your joy will <i>overflow</i>. Meditate on His love. Fill your mind with the truth that you can't earn it or lose it. He loves you!<br />
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<i><b>Knowing</b></i> how loved we are takes the sting out of every rejection and failure. <i><b>Letting</b></i> our thoughts dwell on that incredible love rather than all the he-said, she-said, what-if...and your joy will overflow.<br />
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He told us these things <i><b>because </b><b>He</b></i><b> <i>wanted us to be filled with His joy</i></b>. <b></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">John 15:9-11</span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13310692299691272188noreply@blogger.com0