tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42730224537954277512024-03-14T00:00:43.782-07:00Life By the HandfulA 40-something mom with eight kids who is tired of people saying, "My, you have your hands full." But mostly she's just tired.lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-46916533434158556432019-08-31T09:17:00.000-07:002019-08-31T09:17:31.893-07:00Creating Space for Community - Rethinking the Proverbs 31 WomanI've begun speaking on a monthly basis for a non-traditional church service through the United Methodist Church. The service, called Discover Depth, has committed itself to finding God in every aspect of life, especially the matters that affect us everyday. We know that many churches are not discussing the burdens that afflict us, modern culture/politics and controversy or even the mundane, but we believe that God's word has something to say whether it is directly stated or not. We might not have all the answers, but we are willing to ask the hard questions, search scripture together, ask experts in the field and rest in the mystery of God if the evidence is inconclusive. <br />
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I thought I would start sharing some of my rough notes to help others with understanding scripture or sermon prep. Here is my introduction from our April service where I interviewed the owner of a local coffee shop that is making huge waves in our community by creating a safe and welcoming place that loves its neighbors well...<br />
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We have begun the evening a bit different. Instead of our call to worship being a reading and response I wanted to share with you a song called, Eshet Ḥayil, that is traditionally sung in almost every Jewish community before the Friday night Shabbat meal to the woman of the house. (Search YouTube to find some amazing renditions.) One Jewish woman describes it as a sign of respect and thanks for blessing their families with “energy and creativity”. Before this week I had never heard this particular format of this very famous Bible passage, most likely because I’m not fluent in traditional Hebrew and I’m not Jewish. I’m guessing that some of you here this evening are very familiar with it as well. In the Western Christian church it is known as the Proverbs 31 woman and the Hebrew translation of Eshet Hayil is Woman of Valor. Let me read it for you:<br />
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<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v10">Who can find a virtuous and capable wife?</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v10">She is more precious than rubies.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v11">Her husband can trust her,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v11">and she will greatly enrich his life.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v12">She brings him good, not harm,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v12">all the days of her life.</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v13">She finds wool and flax</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v13">and busily spins it.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v14">She is like a merchant’s ship,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v14">bringing her food from afar.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v15">She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v15">and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v16">She goes to inspect a field and buys it;</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v16">with her earnings she plants a vineyard.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v17">She is energetic and strong,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v17">a hard worker.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v18">She makes sure her dealings are profitable;</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v18">her lamp burns late into the night.</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v19">Her hands are busy spinning thread,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v19">her fingers twisting fiber.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v20">She extends a helping hand to the poor</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v20">and opens her arms to the needy.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v21">She has no fear of winter for her household,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v21"><span class="content">for everyone has warm</span><span class="content"> clothes.</span></span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v22">She makes her own bedspreads.</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v22">She dresses in fine linen and purple gowns.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v23">Her husband is well known at the city gates,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v23">where he sits with the other civic leaders.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v24">She makes belted linen garments</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v24">and sashes to sell to the merchants.</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v25">She is clothed with strength and dignity,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v25">and she laughs without fear of the future.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v26">When she speaks, her words are wise,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v26">and she gives instructions with kindness.</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v27">She carefully watches everything in her household</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v27">and suffers nothing from laziness.</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v28">Her children stand and bless her.</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v28">Her husband praises her:</span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v29">“There are many virtuous and capable women in the world,</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v29">but you surpass them all!”</span></div>
<div class="b">
</div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v30">Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v30"><span class="content">but a woman who fears the </span><span class="nd"><span class="content">Lord</span></span><span class="content"> will be greatly praised.</span></span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="verse v31">Reward her for all she has done.</span></div>
<div class="q2">
<span class="verse v31">Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.</span></div>
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In all honesty I do not know this evening’s guest very well. We have met in person and have spoken a hand full of times and although just an acquaintance, she has such a hospitable personality that even after a brief encounter you leave feeling warm and as if you have a friend, someone to be on your side. When I was thinking about how to introduce her, the thought of Proverbs 31 popped into my head because this woman is a Rockstar. She seems to balance life well and if Proverbs 31 was a checklist, she seemingly would have every box checked. Even though the passage was correct about her, I couldn’t figure out how to tie in this evening’s topic of Creating Space for Community or how to make it relevant to everyone else here tonight. That was until I started looking into the meaning and context of Proverbs 31. It then was no longer about a woman who was phenomenal and has her stuff together but was about the characteristic of valor. Valor is defined by dictionary.com as “boldness or determination in facing great danger, especially in battle; heroic courage; bravery”. Valor. That we could all strive for—male or female. The byproduct of living a brave life is community! It seemed like a win-win so bear with me for a few while I give you some insight on how I came to this conclusion.<br />
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You are going to need to be familiar with the book of the Bible that this passage comes from. It’s obviously from the book of Proverbs. It is considered a wisdom book of the Bible. It’s main author is King Solomon with two other authors mentioned. The passage we have read tonight is attributed to King Lemuel whom some scholars believe was a pen name used by Solomon. The purpose of this particular book Solomon says is to gain wisdom and to behave in ways that are just, right and fair. He writes it to his sons. In Chapter 1 and throughout the first part of the book a woman is spoken about. Wisdom. Was this an actual woman? No. Solomon personified wisdom as a woman, most likely because the Hebrew language has grammatical gender unlike English. So we are introduced to this woman, Wisdom, and according to King Solomon we should want to be around and she wants to be around us too, she is actually calling for us. But then this other woman is introduced, the Adulterous Woman and she is calling to us as well, we are to avoid her because she is going to ruin our life, make no doubt about it. The father instructs his son to cling instead to his Wife. Is the Adulterous Woman a real woman? No, she is meant to represent the pursuit of idolatry and sin. So then what does the Wife represent? I believe that is answered at the end of the book. Proverbs takes a turn from its poetic prose and gives us some great chapters of pithy wisdom before ending in Chapter 31. This chapter is claimed to be written by King Lemuel and is inspired by his mother words. He starts off with warning against the woman who will derail you from your job and will only destroy you. His mama-inspired words instead give great advice about staying the course and living a life that is just, right and fair like we heard in the first chapter. She tells him to find a Woman of Valor and here we are…. Proverbs 31:10-31. Although it doesn’t read like poetry in our English translations Eshet Ḥayil was in fact written as a poem. In its original Hebrew it is written in the form of an acrostic, the twenty-two verses composing it each start with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The passage also contains the poetic device of chiasm, meaning it uses parallel lines that have corresponding themes. The website <a href="http://www.glorybooks.org/">Glory Books</a> explains it this way: “The parallels are not one after the other; instead, the top line and the bottom line are parallel, then the second line and the next to last line are parallel, and so on. The very middle line is the emphasis — the main focus of the poem.” If you were to diagram this out with indentations it would look something like an arrowhead with the tip being the main takeaway.<br />
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So what is the main takeaway? I will have you wait a minute for the reveal. For years I have sat in a pew and heard this passage preached as an ideal goal for womanhood. I heard it read like an ancient Tinder profile for Christian men to seek out. It boiled down in my mind: women, be the infamous Proverbs 31 woman; and men, go get chu one. What I discovered is that some commentators do not believe that this woman of Valor was and actual person rather the personification of Valor. Given what we just learned about Proverbs this makes sense! Now I see this passage as a Word for all of us, female and male, to be and get. The ancient Torah reader would have immediately drawn parallels between the woman of Valor that Proverbs 31 is about and the female personification of wisdom and immorality in the beginning of the book. Valor although personified as a wife and mother, is neither, rather it is a character trait to be clung to and loved as if it were one of these dear relationships. The real-life practical example of a Woman of Valor would appear in another part of the Old Testament in the book of Ruth. Ruth was a Moabite woman who lost it all; her husband died, her brother-in-law died, her father-in-law died. So in ancient culture they were pretty much doomed. It was just Ruth and a severely depressed Jewish mother-in-law that weren’t sure how they were going to survive. Thankfully they did given their wisdom and valor. Ruth greatly lacked the prestige and wealth of the proverbs 31 woman’s luxurious life, yet she is the only real-life woman ascribed this title in scripture--woman of valor. She cements the central lesson of Proverbs 31 with her story and exemplary character. Interestingly enough, her future man Boaz is described as a Man of Valor as well in the book of Ruth. If you have never read their love story take a look at the Book of Ruth.<br />
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Still with me? Here is where I get a little Bible nerdy on you, okay, maybe a lit bit more Bible nerdy. The word valor or Chayil in Hebrew is formed by three individual characters the first means "under strong leadership"; the second "performing a mighty work"; the third "providing a place of protection". We as women and men are to ascribe to the virtues personified in the book of Proverbs, both wisdom and valor. Wise protectors doing mighty works under the authority of God.<br />
So going back to the chiastic takeaway of Proverbs 31? To bring honor to her husband. Before anyone gets upset over this main point, I want to remind you that this was written in and to a man dominated paternalistic culture. I believe the Bible time and time again gives validity and approval to the work, gifts and contributions of women. The Bible is a book that when read properly, demands a mutual respect of everyone to include and especially when it comes to marriage. And as much as I love my husband Brian, and believe that together we are better, I do not believe that worth comes from marriage; after all Paul wrote that he wishes we all had the gift of celibacy. So what to make of it? As a Christian with access to both Old and New Testaments and a knowledge of Jesus, when reading this my mind immediately goes to the symbolism Paul uses for the relationship between the church and Jesus which is marriage. The ancient church was not a building, rather a strong interconnected community of individuals that believed in Christ and serving others. Today, we here at Discover Depth, hold tightly to the belief that this building where we sit is just a facility and the church is each person individually and collectively serving and loving others from the overflow of God’s love for us. So, If we use the symbolism of being married to Christ, then the main point of Proverbs 31, the tip of the Chiastic arrow for everyone, is to <strong>honor God</strong>.<br />
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Our guest tonight is an amazing Woman of Valor. She has created a space for community within our town that I believe is a needed and mighty work. Those that sit in the coziness of the café created by her family feel at home and protected. Her kindness and concern for others radiates Jesus. And her wisdom and discernment have helped her to create the number one coffee shop in all of Cecil County. Please help me welcome wife, mama, entrepreneur and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RiseNGrind.MD/">Rise n’ Grind </a>owner Angelina Vanderhoef.<br />
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<img alt="Angie and Erica" class=" wp-image-2040 aligncenter" height="452" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2019/08/angie-and-erica.jpg" width="477" /><br />
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Want to read more on Biblical womanhood? Read this by the late Rachel Held Evan's: <a href="https://amzn.to/2zJWuSx">A Year of Biblical Womanhood</a><br />
(The above is an affiliate link for Amazon, meaning I will receive a small percentage of the sale if you purchase through that link. Rather just order it without an affiliate link? That's cool, click <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Year-Biblical-Womanhood-Liberated-Covering/dp/1595553673/ref=sr_1_1?crid=D0E9K6F5B271&keywords=a+year+of+biblical+womanhood+by+rachel+held+evans&qid=1567266704&s=gateway&sprefix=a+year+of+bi%2Caps%2C174&sr=8-1">here</a>.)lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-83857118683526199262018-02-13T13:44:00.000-08:002018-02-13T13:44:38.447-08:00I'm With the BandI am watching my children lip sync with pretend instruments to songs on Pandora. They are sweating and dancing, Keely's style is interpretive with intermittent somersaulting across the living room. Meanwhile Rhys is laying on the floor in the middle of it all looking at a Curious George coloring book eating his boogers. Vance, a part of the band, takes a stoic role, standing there moving only his lips while wearing a 4-inch wooden fish around his neck. Ryleigh plays any instrument necessary for the current song and effortlessly imagines nearby items fit the bill. Sadie plays pillow drums while sitting on a red plastic motorcycle while dressed like Frozen's Elsa.<br />
It's raining outside, foggy and gray.<br />
In here it's a weird concert with stage props and an artistic plot line that is obviously over my head. It's warm though. And comfortable. And even if I don't get what they are putting out, it's enjoyable to see them play, because I like the music and I know the band.<br />
Lately, I've been in the Word more than usual. I've been rushing through my morning routine so I can sit down at the table with my breakfast drink and crack open my duct-taped book. I like it there. Much like the concert living room rock concert it confuses the heck out of me. So many parts I don't know what they mean or why God would do what he does, but I keep going back; determined to figure something out. I've begun exploring parts I've glossed over for years or avoided altogether. I've returned to the familiar underlinings, the tiny hearts, arrows convicting me of my need to love others more. I keep opening the Bible, again and again, because even if I don't always understand what the seemingly artistic plot is, I know the band and in this cold gray rainy world he sings of Love.<br />
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(This was originally written a couple of years ago, but for whatever reason I never published it. With my seven day posting promise, I am counting this as good.) lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-61197637955672879152018-02-12T14:17:00.000-08:002018-02-12T14:17:19.671-08:00Decades of DealingBecause I am trying to post everyday I have taken to reading from my journals for inspiration. You know what? I have been writing about and asking God for the same things for a long time. He answers the prayers, but then I fall into the same patterns again. If you didn't read the dates on my entries you would think it was from the same time period, most likely from this week, but nah, it spans the last 3 decades. This could have something to do with the fact that I have been having babies for 20 years and I am stuck in some crazy remake of the movie "Groundhog's Day" Toddler Edition or that the same frustrations, the same tendencies rear their heads in my life again and again. I believe that there has been improvement and that I don't stay as long in the issues that plague me before I ask for help or move forward, but there is no mistake they are there and still the same. The same struggles, the same sin, the same unbelief, the same victories, the same repentance, the same celebrations. Maybe this says something about my immaturity and that my walk with God is not what it should be or maybe it's just the trajectory of a normal life. Maybe it doesn't shoot straight up or even have a steady consistent curved ascent. Maybe it's that we take 3 steps up the staircase of life and one step back down as we fight the battle, the boredom, the unbelief, and then we take another 3 steps up. Maybe life is more like a sine wave where we praise God from the spiritual mountain tops and ask where he is in the valley and beg to catch a glimpse of him. Where we get dinner on the table and the laundry washed, folded and realize we haven't showered in over 3 days. Where we think we have it all together because our kid is wearing matching socks and then we see the mom on Instagram who is dressing her toddler in freaking white clothes. (Really, white? Are you even a human?) Anyway, my point is that I am working for progress not perfection. And maybe this sudden realization that I keep dealing with the same crap despite the decade can lend me some insight in how to deal even more quickly and get back on top of the waves or a bit further up the staircase.<br />
<br />lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-28186283377855926742018-02-11T12:08:00.000-08:002018-02-11T12:08:31.159-08:00Random PostI still remember a dream I had when I was five, except for a long time I didn't know it was a dream; I believed that it really happened.<br />
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My mom and I were out back in the yard playing on a summer day. She said it was time to take a nap and we went into her room to lay down. I remember the white walls of her bedroom that needed a fresh coat of paint and the white thin blanket on the bed. I remember her falling asleep and me sneaking from the bed to continue playing outside. When I slid the screen door open and stepped onto the small wooden porch I looked to my left and down the four steps leading to the well worn path to our driveway. There at the bottom of the steps was a folding chair with a little boy sitting on it. The chair was one we used at holidays and when anyone came for dinner so we could all fit around our table. It was black metal with a gray hardly-padded cardboard seat cover with a splash of red paint on it right near the edge by his knee. He wore sneakers without socks, cutoff denim shorts and a shirt although I don't remember what it looked like. His arms were straight by his side grasping either side of the chair and on his head was a brown paper bag, like the kind we got our groceries in. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. I was afraid though. Panic welled up in me and to this day I can still remember the fear as I screamed trying to turn and run into the house while struggling with the screen door. I wasn't afraid because of surprise. I was afraid because I knew he was the Devil. I believed for whatever reason that the this kid on a chair in my yard was Satan. I felt the fear and the evilness and ran. My mom grabbed a crying me and pulled me into bed and held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up the chair was still there but the boy was gone. For years I didn't recognize it as a dream but as reality and refused to sit in that chair. Thirty Six years later I still feel that dream and if given the opportunity will sit in a different chair. (Yes, my parents still own it.)lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-92118592208106877772018-02-11T06:17:00.000-08:002018-02-11T06:17:47.552-08:00Evangelism 101<br />
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*Love others well and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Be patient and kind and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Don't demand others see your point of view, just live out your convictions and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Don't act rudely, be jealous, or brag about your accomplishments and belongings and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Don't hold grudges or be easily irritated and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Rejoice when truth wins, not when injustice reigns and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
*Don't give up, don't lose faith, and bear every hardship in life with the hope of better things to come and the world will know you follow Jesus.<br />
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Put away the tracts, love is always relevant. Love always wins.lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-78852672279781817302018-02-09T13:32:00.000-08:002018-02-09T13:32:30.453-08:00Still Wrestling with the Purpose of the ChurchToo often I get hung up on thinking that this space has to be pretty, lengthy, and somewhat cohesive. I'm not sure why because these boundaries are stifling and then I don't write anything. So I am going to brain dump every day for the the next seven days as an experiment of sorts. To push past the imaginary fence posts I have erected and I'm not going to paint the barn, ie. not polish my words. Let's see where this takes us. Maybe nowhere. Maybe I'll just have seven days of random posts and then I won't post again for another year. Either way it isn't going to matter because this doesn't have to be pretty, lengthy, or cohesive.<br />
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We are to be agents of God's plan to give himself to a hurting world--a world that desperately yearns for a wholeness and rightness that can only come from him. When we serve as his representatives to alleviate the struggle and pains of those in need we create this dynamic that automatically draws others in. There are those who benefit from the service that find help and healing through having a need met and there are those who want to join in helping others. In both of these instances relationships are initiated and fostered. As we live authentic lives alongside others we are given opportunities to share our beliefs and hopes. Those that agree with our belief system will desire to know more and want to fulfill the calling God has put on their lives. This recognition of purpose then creates a space to corporately wrestle through the ambitious and challenging writings of scriptures and to apply them to our lives, as difficult as that can be. When those that don't share in our belief system continue to engage with us in service and relationship a symbiotic connection occurs. They enrich our lives because of who they are while holistically challenging our walk with God, in turn, hopefully they benefit from the kindness of God, a healthy equally challenging friendship, all while achieving His purpose through acts of service. It's a win-win. Seismic waves that ripple from our lives, resonate with others and waves of God's love concentrically reach those surrounding them and so on it goes. When the church's purpose is service, disciples of Christ are made, lives are transformed and his kingdom is brought closer to the here and now.<br />
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"Historically, religion has more often been a belonging system or a belief system, than an actual system of transformation. When belonging and believing is your primary concern, you do not really need healing or growth, or even basic spiritual curiosity. All your homework is done for you and handed to you. If you let the group substitute for your own inner life or your own prayer journey, all you need to do is attend." - Richard Rohr<br />
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-49003115959703292532017-02-02T15:07:00.000-08:002017-02-02T15:14:23.548-08:00Grace Before Social Services<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Grace before Social Services” has become somewhat of
a motto in my house or at least in my own mind.
It probably lends more insight into the parenting of my seven, soon-to-be eight, children than
I care to admit, but it’s a principle I want to exercise because I so much want
others to reciprocate it. It’s an
up-to-date version of “walk a mile in another person’s shoes.” We don’t do this enough in today’s
society. We barely walk, let alone slip
on and lace up another’s kicks on our own pedicured feet. The tendency of</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0R-IrFRYW8/WJO39qW_MJI/AAAAAAAAUkc/6zRHBSvJfaUt46w3uCPSdRUGBv5DeIp3QCEw/s1600/grace%2Bbefore%2Bpic%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0R-IrFRYW8/WJO39qW_MJI/AAAAAAAAUkc/6zRHBSvJfaUt46w3uCPSdRUGBv5DeIp3QCEw/s200/grace%2Bbefore%2Bpic%2B2.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> late, is to automatically
assume the worst of others and situations.
In general, we lack grace—and dare I say it—especially those of us who
self-identify as Christians! Ever read
the comments section on a news story or on Facebook? Then you know that what I am talking about is
true—crushing. People demanding justice,
monolouging online the error of everyone’s way, and the irony of this; this
behavior is the exact opposite of what we want so badly. We want people to
think and desire the best for us, to conversate with us, and listen to us. We want cheerleaders, encouragers, mentors,
and realistic grace-filled friends. Grace-filled strangers would be even
better. Amen? However, it seems that the exact opposite is
happening. Empathy has seemingly left
the building and armchair activism has taken its place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of my friends works at a child development
center. She adores her job and all the
little ones she gets to love on. It
suits her mama bear personality well. As
she was recounting various stories to me about the darndest things kids say and
the crazy things they do, she told me about a little guy that shirked away from
her when she reached for his arm to get him out of harm’s way. She inquired as to what was wrong with his
arm and he told her he had a really awesome tattoo and his mom removed it. My friend asked if she could see his boo-boo
and as he lifted his sleeve, she could see that his bicep was red and swollen
and even looked a bit blistered. Probing
deeper, she asked how his mom removed it. He replied, “with an eraser.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gasp! I am sure
that as you read this you are probably grabbing your chest in horror as you
imagine an angry mumbling mom with a Papermate Pink Pearl Premium eraser
rubbing aggressively on a preschooler’s arm.
At least that’s where my thoughts went. I was hoping that my friend
dialed the phone right then and there to Social Services. This woman was obviously dangerous. Concerned,
she continued her Sherlock Holmes style investigation and found out the eraser was
the white Magic kind, which left the little guy with a chemical burn in place
of his temporary tat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJV3pxycpf0/WJO2D0OPpxI/AAAAAAAAUkM/vAmu9Sh78aA9suMazjyDSqv5vsTUUp60gCLcB/s1600/grace%2Bbefore%2Bpic%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJV3pxycpf0/WJO2D0OPpxI/AAAAAAAAUkM/vAmu9Sh78aA9suMazjyDSqv5vsTUUp60gCLcB/s200/grace%2Bbefore%2Bpic%2B1.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Magic Eraser!? The brakes of my pessimistic imagination
came to a screeching halt and I told the lynch mob in my mind to lower the
pitch forks for a hot second while I figured some stuff out, because maybe this
mom was—even bigger gasp—like me. Say what you will, but this tattoo removal
process suddenly made complete sense to me.
The seemingly harmless rectangle that removes crayon from my wall would
probably do an amazing job getting off those supposedly temporary symbols that
taunt me with their longevity; lingering on my kid’s skin for weeks like bad
perfume in a cheap motel. I am not promoting using household cleaning supplies
for eradication, because chemical burns are a real thing, but if I’m being
honest, I would have totally done this! I
was most likely three or four kids into life before I learned about the danger
of chemical burns. Did this make me a
bad mom? No it made me a naïve one and there is a difference. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The realization that this could totally be my story,
pushed me to stop and ask if they had ever suspected abuse before? “No. Nothing.” My friend answered, “In fact,
she’s really great with him and always sweet to the staff.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She continued to tell me that she called in coworkers
to examine his arm, they took pictures and prepared to call the Child Welfare Department,
but first someone suggested they phone the director of the center who was on vacation. At this point in the story I am hanging on
every word and cringing, because what if the mom really did have a lapse in
judgement? Was the government going to take away her boy for an unintentional
mistake? The crisis was adverted when the center director after reviewing the
photos and hearing the details, told them to record the information in his file
and to talk with the mom to see if the stories matched. At the end of the day, they erred on the side
of grace, before making a possible life-altering phone call. When asked that
evening, the mama embarrassingly shared her mistake and thankfully she left the
center with her little guy to enjoy dinner together and their normal bedtime
rituals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am not trying to downplay the possible seriousness
of the matter, the potential for abuse is a reality, and there is definitely a
time to phone our friends at Social Services. What I am suggesting is
that before we call assuming the worst of someone, before we write an outline
for our standards on how to be better humans, could we speak in love with
individuals, entertaining the thought that there might be more to the
story? Could we slip our foot into the shoe
of another for a moment and consider the process that led up to the now?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Eugene Petersen’s The Message phrases the words of
Paul in the beginning of Galatians 6 perfectly and points to a life embracing
the “Grace before Social Services” principle:
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“<span style="background: white;">Live creatively,
friends. If someone falls into sin, forgivingly restore him, saving your
critical comments for yourself.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>You</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>might be needing forgiveness before
the day’s out. Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their
burdens, and so complete Christ’s law. If you think you are too good for that,
you are badly deceived.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Live creatively, because empathy requires imagination.</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;"> To be able to
identify with others and their possible motives for their actions we need to
imagine what they could be feeling or thinking.
It’s grown-up imaginary play or as I prefer to call it, mind LARPing
(Live Action Role Play, minus the costumes).
Whether we realize it or not we do it all the time. For example, my son, Jace, is late getting
home from work and didn’t reply to my text, it’s raining outside and I am
certain he is dead in a ditch on the side of a windy back road. In my mind, I see the police car turning in
my drive, a knock on the door by a uniformed officer has me collapsing to the
ground on the entry carpet between a pile of coats and boots wondering if he
suffered for very long before meeting Jesus.
Here’s another one; my friend hasn’t responded to my texts and she
always replies quickly. I glue the phone
to my hip waiting for the magical “you’ve got a text” chime, but meanwhile I begin
a laundry list of possible offenses I could have committed, because surely that
is the only reason she wouldn’t reply. We don’t know the reality of the situation but
we build off of what we know, our past experiences, or worst yet, our fears to
answer the unknown. Our creativity is wasted on the negative, but what if
instead we ran the situations through a positive filter. Our thought life would dramatically change
and go something like this; Jace is a responsible kid and a defensive driver
I’m glad he doesn’t answer my texts when he is driving. Maybe with it raining
like it is, he is helping salamanders cross the roads before they get hit by
cars. Such a good kid. My friend must
have taken the homeschool lessons to the outdoors on this beautiful day or
maybe she ran to the post office with that pile of packages in her office, I
know she’s been putting it off. I’ll
check back in a couple hours after I get dinner ready. This way of thinking
allows our creativeness to assume the best of others and ourselves. The reality of the situation is still unknown
but our imagination crafts a story framed in grace by utilizing what we know,
past experiences and our hopes, not our fears and paranoia.</span></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Restore others.</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;"> If you
believe in Christ and have been walking with him for a while you know there is
nothing beyond his restorative power. We
need to speak that power over people, because restoration is encouraging. Believe it or not most people are aware of
their faults and mistakes, we don’t need to set up pie charts and board
meetings to make everyone else aware.
What most don’t know is that beyond the faults and screw-ups there is a
hope and a great love. Another
translation says to “gently and humbly help the person back on the right
track.” Judgment is far from humble or
graceful and it’s not our job, most of us want it to be, so many of us think we
are chief judge (ahem, comment trolls), but the truth is, it belongs to God
alone. Ironic that most tattoo parlors get that word out about this better than
churches, “Only God can judge me.” Don’t
go collecting the unemployment check yet, we still have a job; love God; love
people—want for them the same stuff you want for you. Simply put; Praise
God! Encourage folks! If you don’t have
anything nice to say, figure out something nice to say!</span></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Examine yourself</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;">. Maybe,
just maybe it is possible that you could wind up in the same situation. “Well, Erica,” you might be thinking, “your
example of the mom was an accident, she didn’t know any better, what about
people who <i>choose </i>to do sinful
things? I know better, that wouldn’t be
me.” To that I reply, “Oh, do you
now?” Funny how we know things are
wrong, but yet we do them anyway. My boy
Paul says in Romans 7, “I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what
is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I
do what I hate.” Every morning I wake up
with the best intentions of being a great person and living for God and then I
walk out my bedroom door. Life comes at
me and the battle with my sinful nature begins. I know it’s not right to speed,
but I’m late for an appointment and I push the gas pedal a bit further than
allowed. I know I shouldn’t yell at my
kids, but for the fifth time this week an entire roll of toilet paper has
mysteriously found its way into the commode and one of my precious offspring
has decided to repeatedly flush in an effort to help. Maybe for some it’s bigger than plumbing
induced screams, maybe it’s I know I shouldn’t take a hit of this joint or my
nightly glass of wine is turning into a nightly bottle of wine, but I just need
to make it through the crazy that is my life.
Or, I know that this relationship is not healthy but this guy at work
seems interested in getting to know me for me and it makes me feel young and
important again. Failure and mistakes
are not very far from any of us, in fact they are like mythological sirens
singing to us waiting for us to follow their songs, disguising the dangerous as
harmless or necessity.</span></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stoop down, reach out, share burdens.</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;"> You might be thinking, “Ain’t nobody got time
for that.” You’re right, we don’t have
time for it. You’ve got to make time for
it. Reaching out and sharing burdens
means relationship. It’s tedious and
time consuming and most times really hard work, but all good things are. Wanting the best for someone, like really
truly wanting the best for another human, means giving the best of ourselves
and get this, giving the worst too. We
are not saviors, Jesus has that job. Remember ours? Lovers.
We are called to love God and love people. So instead of pretending we have our crap all
together we need to be honest. Share our
struggles, our weaknesses, our failures because this is what makes us
human. This is what makes us
relatable. This is what makes real
relationship. When we humble ourselves
and begin to let people see behind the velvet curtain of our lives, our God
suddenly become more attainable and their lives might not seem so sucky after
all. People don’t need handouts they
need hands out to help lift them up and then, at least for me, I want that hand
to hold mine and journey with me at least for a little while. </span></li>
</ul>
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<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t think yourself better than</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;">. In Deuternonomy 17
Moses relays the message from God that if when they enter the Promised land and
are tempted to get a king then they need to make sure that he copies for
himself “this body of instruction” which were the laws of the time. The newly selected King would need to do his
copy work in the presence of the Levitical priests for accountability. After he wrote it all down, which certainly
had to be a task, that scroll had to always be with him and he was to read it
daily because as Moses wrote, “this regular reading will prevent him from
becoming proud and acting as if he is above his fellow citizens.” (Deut. 17:20) I profess to know pretty much
nothing about monarchial societies, but I would assume that the king of a
kingdom would definitely carry some leverage and would be held in higher esteem
by the people than an everyday worker.
However, in God’s plan he says the king and the peasant are equal. In Proverbs 22:2 It says, “the rich and the
poor have this in common; the lord made them both.” Children’s author Taro Gomi puts it this way,
“Everybody poops.” God wanted to make
sure that the king should not think or feel he is above everybody else, there
was an equality regardless of class, assignment, or position. People, we’re equal.</span></li>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Grace before Social Service. This
motto, isn’t for chumps and it can’t be done alone. We need others to encourage us when life gets
tough, to help us up when the world beats us down, and share stories so that we
know we are not alone. Most of all we
need God to help us live creatively and love well, because this is hard stuff
and it stretches us outside the safe boundaries of our comfort zone. It also knocks us
off the pedestal we have unintentionally, or maybe even intentionally, found
ourselves upon. Jesus tells us in
Matthew 7:1- 2 that if we don’t judge others, we won’t be judged. However, if we choose to not heed the warning
and start dispensing our arbitrary opinions, well then we need to be prepared,
because the standard we use in judging others is the same standard which we
will be judged by. Together we can do
this. We can extend one another grace
before assuming the worst of each other and in doing so can avoid causing
additional harm. We’ve got to love, it’s
that simple. </span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Here’s some additional encouragement:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Galatians
6:2-3 Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.
If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling
yourself. You are not that important.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">1
Corinthians 10:24 Don’t be concerned for your own good but for the good of
others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Galatians
5:14 For the whole law can be summed up in this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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1
Peter 3:8 Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each
other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a
humble attitude<o:p></o:p></div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-38675977711959643042017-01-06T07:10:00.000-08:002017-01-06T18:41:32.470-08:00Choosing a WordI’ve chosen a word for my new year.<br />
<br />
<br />
I’ve never done that before, but I know scores of others have selected a word instead of making a New Year’s resolution to keep them focused and headed in a direction they wish to go and want God to take them. Mine came before 2017 even hit, it started late in November, when twinkle lights started to appear on trees in the neighborhood windows. <br />
<br />
<br />
I tend to be a bit more reflective during the Christmas season, perhaps bordering on melancholy, and this year was especially so. I was overwhelmed with the thought of buying my kids more stuff and them receiving more stuff from family members when my living room and their bedrooms already lay in shambles. I was questioning all things Christmas and trying to figure out how all our traditions and decorations really fit into our belief of honoring a Savior who came and is coming again. Even in my struggle, I allowed the kids to decorate the house for Christmas and because of my holiday funk, I did not withhold certain sentimental decorations I had protected from tiny hands in the past. Within the first week several of them were broken and I buried them beneath used coffee filters and paper plates. At first I shed some tears at their internment, but then as more snowmen and Christmas mice gathered into the plastic bag graveyard I didn’t care—I actually wanted to dump it all in there. I wanted to sweep furniture tops of holiday cheer and rip paper snowflakes off of walls and just be done with all of it except for a simple lit tree. I didn’t do it. I felt torn between simplicity and emotional guilt. I kept the decorations on practically every flat surface of my home so the children could enjoy holiday whimsy, but soon hallelujah angels and joyful shepherds from years gone by were heading to their final destination of a landfill.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's no secret that documentaries lead to major life changes for me, hence the reason our family has been vegetarian for over four years. A week before Christmas I watched a documentary on minimalism titled Minimalism: A Documentary About the Important Things. Something in me started to churn and I began to understand what my internal conflict was stemming from. I have always found the lifestyle of a minimalist very appealing, yet impossible. I love stuff and although I try not to shop big box stores for things other than food, I frequent thrift stores at least every other month and come home with a haul of treasures. The other reason I think becoming a minimalist is farfetched is because we are a family of ten. I can easily limit my stuff and the babes in my belly, but everyone else needs to weigh in on their belongings and they aren’t going without a fight. Regardless, I thought I could work on me and I started in my closet and I got rid of two big trash bags full which didn't appear to make a dent. Frustrated by the lack of visible progress I felt defeated. Brynna gently reminded me that, “progress is progress, no matter how small.” Encouraged, I kept going. <br />
<br />
<br />
I began looking for more tangible results; I moved to the bathroom counter and ruthlessly tossed lotions never used and makeup from years ago. My counter that was once covered in half empty containers, disgarded clothing and jewelry, and beauty products was now totally visable. When I walk into my bathroom, I feel the difference, I feel sane and I like it. I didn’t get rid of every decoration or every lip gloss, but I did get rid of the useless and ugly. Some might claim this not to be minimalism and honestly I don’t want to label myself something restrictive so have decided that instead of aiming for minimalism I could shoot for a more doable goal of simplifying. <br />
<br />
<br />
Simplify.<br />
<br />
That's my 2017 word.<br />
<br />
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I have been taking life a drawer and a shelf at a time and pairing down what I don’t need, what I don’t think is beautiful, what doesn’t make me feel good, or that I don’t think I will realistically use. I am currently over 12 trash bags of clothing and housewares to a local mission and several eBay sales into the process of simplifying. I am working on my stuff, but letting everyone know what it is that I am doing in hopes they will jump on board. The results are becoming visible too. Some of the children are more hesitant about the shedding of items than others, but they too are making small steps. To make it more understandable I have been reading a children’s book every day with the younger kids that has a simplifying/minimalistic theme and sharing what God’s word has to say about our stuff and our hearts. <br />
<br />
<br />
Here are the books: <br />
<br />
The Biggest House in the World by Leo Lionni is the story of a snail who learns that bigger can be crushing. My kids are still talking about the surprise ending of the story within this story.<br />
<br />
The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch is a tale of a princess who loses her belongings, but never her wit or the desire to do what is right. The book and illustrations look a bit dated, but the lesson learned is timeless.<br />
<br />
The Gift of Nothing by Partick McDonnell is about a cat who wants to honor his friend who has everything by giving him the gift of nothing. Simple drawings add to the charm of this short story.<br />
<br />
More by I.C. Springman a sweet story with fantastic illustrations about a bird and his treasures.<br />
<br />
The Quiltmaker’s Gift by Jeff Brumbeau won book of the year for a reason. This story has artwork that could draw you in for hours and the storyline is even more powerful. Having it all does not bring happiness.<br />
<br />
Too Many Toys by David Shannon is probably most humorous for parents as it pokes fun at all the trouble we go through in trying to get our kids to part with toys. The story is a good jumping point for discussing how we acquire so much and the importance of imagination. <br />
<br />
Next to read on our list is The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. A classic story from 1943 that skillfully shares what is really important in this life.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Bible verses we have been discussing so far are:<br />
<br />
Luke 12:15 “Then he (Jesus) said, ‘Beware! Guard against every kind of greed. Life is not measured by how much you own.’'<br />
<br />
1 Timothy 6:5b-8 “…To them, a show of godliness is just a way to become wealthy. Yet true godliness with contentment is itself great wealth. After all, we brought nothing with us when we came into the world, and we can’t take anything with us when we leave it. So if we have enough food and clothing, let us be content.”<br />
<br />
Matthew 6:19-21 “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven where moths and rust cannot destroy and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.”<br />
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Matthew 16:26 “And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul?”<br />
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Mark 10:17-22 “As Jesus was starting out on his way to Jerusalem, a man came running up to him, knelt down, and asked, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ ‘Why do you call me good?’ Jesus asked. ‘Only God is truly good. But to answer your question, you know the commandments: “You must not murder. You must not commit adultery. You must not steal. You must not testify falsely. You must not cheat anyone. Honor your father and mother.”’ ‘Teacher,’ the man replied, ‘I’ve obeyed all these commandments since I was young.’ Looking at the man, Jesus felt genuine love for him. ‘There is still one thing you haven’t done,’ he told him. ‘Go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’ At this the man’s face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.”<br />
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I’ve been studying and meditating on these scriptures as well, trying to muster courage to part with inanimate objects that clutter my house and heart, that have sat on shelves for fear of hurting someone’s feelings or afraid that I will forget the significance of the moment associated with the memory the piece instills. Even more so, I have been analyzing my actions and activities that keep me from the important moments of investing in people and creativity—there are too many of them. Things need to change, things need to get simpler because the things life throws at us certainly aren’t going to. <br />
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2017 has me working toward my word for the year, “Simplify." I don’t think I will meet minimalist status, but I recognize everytime I choose not to buy or bring something into the house; with each item that finds its way to the trash or goes to charity; by the paring down of unnecessary activities my life becomes a little bit simpler and my hope is that I draw closer to my family and my God.<br />
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Simplify.<br />
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Hey I would love it if you chimed in on the topic! I’ve been reading/listening to books on minimalism; The More of Less by Joshua Becker and The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. If you know of any books, children or adult,on the subject that have impacted your walk toward simplifying let me know. I would also love to know the Bible verses that speak most to you about simplifying. </div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-41469626135788458152016-10-26T12:15:00.000-07:002016-10-26T12:15:27.253-07:00Lines and Gardens: Stories of Slavery<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LvINF-IyzuM/WBD7pufAiiI/AAAAAAAAS4o/K1ILZAfyx3sAusCKpkFaDKS0BhE1HBVUACLcB/s1600/Mason%2BDixon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="319" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LvINF-IyzuM/WBD7pufAiiI/AAAAAAAAS4o/K1ILZAfyx3sAusCKpkFaDKS0BhE1HBVUACLcB/s320/Mason%2BDixon.jpg" title="Photo cred: R. Nibbelink" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stateline Rd Nottingham PA</td></tr>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I live a few miles
south of the Mason Dixon line, the perimeter that served as a resolution in the
border dispute between Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania in the mid 1700’s. Later the line became the boundary that separated
freedom from slavery, the imaginary divider that caused very real division
between North and South, between brothers.
Many of the markers originally placed between 1763 and 1767 have
disappeared, but in certain places the original stone monument-esque markers remain
standing. Aside from these reminders
which were originally placed every 5<sup>th</sup> mile along the line there was
no physical barrier, no wall, that kept anyone or anything from crossing to the
other side. Yet being born on the
northern side of the line meant freedom for many. It meant a different view of humanity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In a small settlement,
located north of the line, called Nottingham lived two sisters with the last
name of Parker. Their first names were
Rachel and Elizabeth. They were African
American and they were free, but a slave catcher, named Thomas McCreary,
without an eye for detail and a hunger for money would soon change that. He would claim that they both were runaway
slaves and he would drag them across that imaginary divider, the one that had for
the previous two generations before them, kept their family safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Both young ladies
were employed as domestic servants for neighboring farmers and their family was
known by locals and even the slave catcher knew of them as his primary job had
him delivering mail to the area. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">Elizabeth was only 10
and with the cooperation of her crooked employer, she was boxed up and sent to
Baltimore to be sold into to slavery for the price of $1,000.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">In contrast, Rachel, age 16, was defended by
her lady employer, Rebecca Miller.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">After the mailman/slave catcher requested to speak with Rebecca,
McCreary entered the home at Rachel’s invite. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">After being welcomed into the home, he
forcibly grabbed Rachel as Rebecca tried to fight him off and her four children
gathered in the room screaming for the release of the young girl they had most
likely known for their entire lives.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">Joseph Miller, the man of the house, hearing
the screams ran as fast as he could from the other end of the property to see
what was going on, but the undoubtedly frightened Rachel was already loaded on
the wagon and McCreary was wielding a knife.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">Joseph attempted again to rescue the girl with the assistance of a
neighbor who blocked their getaway with his farm wagon, but both men backed off
when McCreary and his accomplice again brandished weapons.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joseph and four of
his neighbors continued the pursuit on horseback as they rushed to the closest
train station, located in Perryville, Maryland, 16 miles away. The train had already departed before they
reached the tracks, but by the sovereign grace of God, two friends of the
Millers, Eli Haines and a young man named Wiley, who were on their way to
Philadelphia recognized Rachel and quickly switched trains to Baltimore to keep
an eye on her and the captors. They knew their neighbors well and that a search
party would be on the way to rescue the girl. They planned to keep track of the
young lady and assist by giving the rescuers directions to her whereabouts upon
their arrival. I would like to think
that the gentleman’s familiar faces and presence on the train was noticed by
Rachel and that it brought her a sense of strength and hope for what was to
come. The very next train brought the rescue party and with the help of Eli, Wiley,
and a local Quaker Friend they quickly formed a plan to rescue her from her
newest reality, a slave pen, the temporary holding grounds where slaves were
kept before being sold. The Quaker was
well acquainted with Campbell, the owner of the slave pen, and when approached
by the team he willingly released Rachel into the hands of her grateful
rescuers. As pragmatic men and believers
in justice, they took Rachel to the jail house for her safety and to await the
hearing of her case, with hopes her release would be imminent. With nothing more for the men to do at the
jailhouse and with optimism running high they went to the Quaker’s house for a
celebratory dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The Quaker Friend
knew the men would be targets for the angry slavery advocates and he devised a
route for them to safely arrive at the train station under the cover of
darkness. The rescue team was warned to
not leave the group at any moment, but with a false sense of security, Miller
left the group before the train pulled out to smoke a cigar on the busy train
platform and he disappeared. The rescue
party’s feelings of hope and happiness soon turned to panic and fear. Young Wiley, being the least known in the
matter at hand, ventured throughout the cars in search of Miller but he
returned without finding him. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_FX2bdx9jEw/WBD-I-RapDI/AAAAAAAAS5A/DP8TDsCkOaYBb9-X1dW0pnoiCmVunHFxgCLcB/s1600/Miller%2Bgrave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_FX2bdx9jEw/WBD-I-RapDI/AAAAAAAAS5A/DP8TDsCkOaYBb9-X1dW0pnoiCmVunHFxgCLcB/s320/Miller%2Bgrave.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grave of Joseph Miller Freemont Rd. Nottingham PA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joseph
Miller was found several days later hanging in a tree, declared suicide by
Maryland newspapers. His friends and
family did not believe such a preposterous claim and went to Baltimore to bring
his body home. Upon arrival, they were
directed to a 2-foot deep grave where Miller was interred in a primitive box
that allowed dirt to fall around his dead body.
His friends had a proper coffin made and traveled home with his body via
train. Miller did not Rest in Peace
though, as his body was exhumed several times thereafter to perform
autopsies. Miller’s death was no
suicide, his body bore the marks of manacles around his wrists and ankles, he
had rope burns around his waist, signs of a torture device being hooked to his
nose, he was drenched in arsenic, explaining why his bowels and stomach were
completely empty of the earlier celebratory meal; he had retched everything up. Lastly, he was hung from a tree, a message
that spoke loud and clear to the abolitionists of the North. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The story of the
Parker sisters’ kidnapping is horrific.
I cried more than I care to admit learning about and imagining this
story, not only for the betrayed Elizabeth and the terrified Rachel; children
ripped from all they had ever known and taken to a “land” that believed them
somehow to be less-than-human. I also
cried for the frightened fighters mustering courage to do what was right in the
face of evil; the mama, Rebecca Miller, pounding dainty fists on the post man,
the Miller children raising their voices in opposition to their friend being
drug from their own home, the neighbor who tried to stop a reckless wagon, the travelers
who changed their plans to be the eyes of the rescuers they had faith would
come, the Quaker Friend who used his connections and his hospitality which
later earned a brutal beating by pro-slavery thugs, Joseph Miller and his
friends who didn’t know what to expect but knew they had to do <b><i>something</i></b>. All that God required of every one of them
was to do what was right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God. I cried because I wondered if I could do the
same.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Micah 6 asks:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What can we bring to
the Lord? What kind of offering should
we bring him? Should we bow before God
with offerings of yearling calves?
Should we offer him thousands of rams and ten thousand rivers of olive
oil? Should we sacrifice our firstborn
children to pay for our sins? No, O
people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this what he requires of
you: to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with God.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">He requires it.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">This is what is
good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As a believer, this
is what I have to do, all other worship and offering is like giving God whipped
cream. It tastes good and looks good,
but it’s a topping, not a dessert. It accentuates the flavor, makes it sweeter,
but the good stuff that makes it a dessert for someone other than 5-year-olds,
is a big ol’ slice of pie, a large serving of justice, mercy and humility as we
walk through life with God. I’ve been
giving God a lot of whipped cream, sometimes I sprinkle colored sugar on top. Joseph Miller gave God an entire pie with the
sacrifice of his life. My heart says, I want
to live beyond myself like the courageous folks surrounding the Parker girls. There are more slaves in 2016 than any other
time in history, an estimated 20.9 million people being forced to work in the
sex and labor industries. I want to be a
pie lady for God; I want to not only recognize what is right, I want to do it;
I want to ooze compassion and forgiveness; I want a humble God-stride, to give
him credit for every step I take. Yeah,
I really want that life, but if I could be transparent for a moment, Joseph
Miller’s death scares me. Like really,
really scares me. I want to think that
if I am serving up pie to God that I get a guarantee of safety, that my pie
serving days will continue to until I’m old and gray, but with Christ, safety
is not guaranteed. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In fact, Jesus says
in Luke 9:23-24, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from
your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will
lose it. But if you give up your life
for my sake you will save it.” </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Walking with
God does not equate our safety; walking with God equates furthering His
Kingdom. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">There is a Mexican proverb that
I love, it says, “They tried to bury us, they didn’t know we were seeds.” Joseph Miller’s death in 1852 was tragic and assuredly
devastated his family, but his death sprouted up a garden of bravery in the
face of injustice as 79 men and women from his local area traveled more than 50
miles across an imaginary line into a hostile environment to testify on behalf
of Elizabeth and Rachel Parker. Justice
prevailed and the girls returned home to their mother. Miller’s death also spurred the abolitionists
of the North to pursue their fight with even more fervor, the stakes were
higher than ever and they knew that freedom would not come without a price,
they knew that the line dividing freedom and slavery must become a thing of the
past, that along with justice, mercy, and a humble walk with God, they needed
unity. They faced fear head on and with
courage they took the risk that if they did what was required, no matter the
outcome, there would be gardens for the future to enjoy not lines of division. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">This is what is required of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt;">The fascinating story of the Parker sisters and Joseph Miller can be found in detail at the links below: </span></div>
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<a href="http://explorepahistory.com/odocument.php?docId=1-4-307">Explore PA History</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.mainlinetoday.com/core/pagetools.php?url=%2FMain-Line-Today%2FJuly-2011%2FA-Chester-County-Farmer-Went-Too-Far-to-Rescue-His-Kidnapped-Servant%2F&mode=print">Mainline Today</a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #292f33; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: .2pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Also in this book (not an affiliate link): <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Stealing-Freedom-Along-Mason-Dixon-Line/dp/0996594442/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1477508759&sr=8-2&keywords=stealing+freedom">Stealing Freedom Along the Mason Dixon Line by Milt Diggins</a></span></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-35188306213368151242016-09-23T14:14:00.000-07:002016-09-23T14:14:01.437-07:00Worshipping Crap gods<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
<img alt="bums" class=" size-medium wp-image-1742 alignright" height="295" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/bums1.png?w=300" style="float: right; height: auto; margin: 16px 0px 16px 16px; max-width: 100%;" width="300" />I would not claim to be an expert in Scatological studies, or any studies for that matter, but let’s face it with seven kids, one of which is still in diapers, and living on a small farm I deal with fecal matter more than the average person. Maybe our experience with poop is not the same, but I think we can probably agree that it’s pretty disgusting. Smell, sight, sound—all very unpleasant. Makes sense because poop is all the worthless parts of what we have ingested. We put food in our mouths and as it travels through our bodies, our bodies are intuitive enough to separate and utilize everything that is usable and needed for growth and sustainability. All the parts it deems non-beneficial is excreted from the body as waste. Dispersed as no value added. As disgusting as waste matter is, it is a necessary part of our life. If it were left inside our bodies crazy things would happen; we would become very ill and some extreme cases of non-elimination have led to death. </div>
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<br /><br />Hopefully <img alt="crap-2" class=" size-medium wp-image-1734 alignleft" data-mce-src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/crap-2.jpg?w=300" height="225" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/crap-2.jpg?w=300" style="float: left; height: auto; margin: 16px 16px 16px 0px; max-width: 100%;" width="300" />you have stuck with me through that first paragraph and I didn’t lose too many of you with such potty talk, but the disgusting nature of poop needs to be addressed in order for us to understand the seriousness of what God is trying to drive home in 2 Kings. 2 Kings is an Old Testament book of the Bible that provides snippets of insight into the royal lives of those ruling over the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. One such king was Hoshea. He was the last King of Israel and he did evil in the sight of the Lord. Chapter 17 tells us that King Hoshea was being forced to pay a really oppressive tribute to the rival kingdom of Assyria. Tired of paying the tribute, Hoshea began to feel a bit bold and decided to partner with the king of Egypt to rebel against the controlling Assyrian king. When the Assyrian leader figured out the treachery that was occurring, it didn’t end well for Israel. He imprisoned Hoshea and exiled some of the people of Israel to his country. 2 Kings says, “this disaster came upon the people of Israel because they worshipped other gods.” Publicly and in their hearts the people of Israel had sinned greatly against the God of their people for years and, well, God was getting tired of it. Scripture goes on to say in verse 12, “Yes, they worshipped idols* despite the LORD’s specific and repeated warnings.” Anyone notice the *? I love to find asterisks when reading the Bible because it usually means that there is something at the bottom of the page that is about to shed some insight on the situation. In this case it sheds a lot of light. The word used for idol in this particular verse is “<em>gillulim” </em>which according to the footnotes in the NLT version of the Bible is a Hebrew term which literally means round things and is referencing dung. It was rarely used in the Old Testament, but when it was it was to evoke a response of repulsion. The word typically used for idol is the word “atsab” which simply means “image”. The profit Ezekiel liked to put the word “gillulim” down in his writing to prove a point and even though scholars are uncertain of the authorship of 2 Kings we can be assured that he, like Ezekiel, wasn’t afraid to be contemptuous. He used this particular word meaning “dung” or “ordure” to drive his point home and offend the hearers of his words. I’m going to drag this out a bit more and let you think about the true meaning of these words because dung doesn’t carry that much power in this day and age and it’s easy to gloss over. Let’s see if any of these synonyms conjure up a feeling of disgust for you: manure, muck, excrement, droppings, stools, dump, scat, cow patties, horse apples, ka-ka, sewage, dog logs, crap. “Gillulim” wasn’t cutesy like, “poopsie in your panties”, rather it grabbed attention like if your pastor stood up in front of the congregation on a Sunday morning and said, “Stop worshipping sh*t”. Offensive, right? This is what the Israelites were worshipping according to the author; disgusting worthless waste. Now ancient god worship was weird and they definitely did freaky stuff to satisfy the false gods of their time, even offering their sons and daughters to carved images, but they weren’t literally worshipping someone or something’s dung. The author of 2 Kings was laying it out for the people of Israel about how truly foolish and more importantly how sickening their worship of the false gods was to the one REAL God. The people of Israel knew of the great deeds of their God’s rescuing hand. They knew who could sustain them and who was beneficial to their lives, yet they chose to hold onto crap gods. 2 Kings 17:15b says, “They worshipped worthless idols, so they became worthless themselves.” </div>
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Ouch. We take on the characteristics of what we worship!?!</div>
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This is what happens when our priorities are wrong. We forgo the good and elevate crap to god status. I am only sharing this because when I read it, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was reading the words on the thin pages of my duct tape covered Bible and I felt the unmistakable impression that God was saying to my heart, “Erica, you are worshipping some sh*t and despite my warnings you hold onto it like it is life giving.” I am not a person who cusses. They aren’t my go-to words when hurt or angry and they never pepper my everyday vocabulary. The only reason I can imagine that I felt God was saying that, was he wanted me to be affronted by my actions and priorities. God is good and mighty and jealous. You might be asking, “Jealous?” Yes, jealous. Right now, stuff away any images that might creep into your mind of crazy girlfriends keying trucks or ex-boyfriends threatening new handsome beaus. This is not human jealously. It is not sinful and self-seeking. God loves us so much he doesn’t want to see us waste our time on thin<img alt="chickens-in-yard" class=" size-medium wp-image-1745 alignright" data-mce-src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/chickens-in-yard.png?w=300" height="298" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/chickens-in-yard.png?w=300" style="float: right; height: auto; margin: 16px 0px 16px 16px; max-width: 100%;" width="300" />gs that don’t bring growth. He knows of our potential and wants us to live up to it. And unlike immature humans reacting out of pain, he is jealous out of a selfless all-consuming love for us. A love so grand he doesn’t want to see us spend our time and affection on crap. Also and more importantly God is totally aware of who he is. He is the Creator, the Supreme, and he knows there is nothing that is in his league—he has no competition. When we elevate grossly inferior things to a place of honor in our lives it is an insult and his jealousy burns for that place in our hearts.</div>
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Modern day idolatry is all around. In some cases, we readily recognize its power and control in the lives of others, as in the case of drug or alcohol addiction or Beyonce fandom, but typically we can’t identify idol worship easily because it is such common place. Here’s what you need to know about idols, they exist if you don’t have God at the center of your worship and you WILL fill his place with something nearby. You will. You just will. We are made to worship and if it’s not God it’s something else. True story. The things on their own don’t have to be blatantly evil and maybe their prevalence makes them all the more insidious. Kyle Idleman wrote a fantastic book entitled, <em>gods at War</em>. In this book he speaks in depth to the idols of our society; food, sex, entertainment, success, money, achievement, romance, family, and self. Personally I struggle with elevating a few of those to a position above my Savior. I look to them for value, affirmation, escape, meaning, and answers. Sometimes they deliver, but in comparison to where I could be looking for answers, in comparison to God, they are steaming piles I have placed on pedestals.</div>
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The god of me is a huge struggle on my part. I battle insecurity every single time I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and at times I am so preoccupied with thoughts of what others think of me and my writing that I am paralyzed from pursuing what I want to do or the belief that I am called to do this. Idleman says, “You can’t help but be self-conscious, because when you’re god, it’s all about you.” If God were in his rightful place above self in my life, then I would recognize that regardless of the opinion of others, despite the fact that people might complain and question my relationship with Christ because I used a four-letter word, would be irrelevant. I need to push back against my fear, place myself in a position of worship to God and not self and do what I am called to do, because we all know haters gonna hate. </div>
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Another crap god I worship is, embarrassingly, social media. I love Instagram. I use it as a personal photo album, it inspires me, I connect with long distance friends, and I use it as a creative and emotional outlet. However, there are times it consumes me, robbing me of precious time, feeding jealousy, filling my mind with negativity and discontent, and it disconnects me from what is happening in my own home--sometimes for hours a day. At that point it is taking supremacy over God, his truths and his ways.</div>
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<img alt="crap" class=" size-medium wp-image-1726 alignleft" height="300" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/crap.jpg?w=294" style="float: left; height: auto; margin: 16px 16px 16px 0px; max-width: 100%;" width="294" />There are certain things that we should never put into our mouths, and then there are things that are good and nutritious; things that benefit, grow, and sustain us. Even these wonderful things though are by God's design stripped by our bodies of the unusable and shed as waste. There are things in this life that when we consume them physically, mentally, and emotionally can enhance our relationship with Christ. We take the things that benefit and grow us, notice I didn’t say make us happy because there is a difference, and allow them to nourish our souls. However, when we try to hold onto every piece of whatever it is, we begin to make it into an idol. When it is so important that we can’t let anything from it pass through and leave, then it is time to check ourselves and see if what we are beginning to worship is a crap god. If it is, we need to let it pass and flush it away. Remember that 2 Kings said that our worthless idol worship leaves us worthless too. I do not know one person who wants their life to be worthless, we want meaning. We want meaningful things and we want to mean something to others. God’s intention of one-God worship is to give us that, he is the ultimate and he does not want us wallowing in our own excrement pretending it’s a party. We need to identify the gods in our lives, whether they are ideas, relationships, objects, or goals. Begin with prayer, asking God to reveal the priorities that are askew. </div>
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Analyze the answers to these questions:</div>
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<li>When I need escape, where do I go or turn to?</li>
<li>Where does my fulfilment, joy, value, happiness come from?</li>
<li>What are my fears?</li>
<li>What do I hope for, what are my goals?</li>
<li>What do I pray for?</li>
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These are meant as a first step. The answers don’t necessarily mean idolatry, but if something is rising into a place of lordship in our lives it will begin to surface within these questions. Our next move will be to take a break or at least a step back from said thing or activity and see if its place in our lives is appropriate and what kind of power it has on us. We need to have grace for ourselves as we begin this process of identifying where our devotion lies because it’s embarrassing to admit that we’ve been worshipping idols. Listen up though, God’s expansive love covers ALL. When we set our sights upon Him once again and realign ourselves with his Word we can rest assured that we are no longer worthless like the things we once worshipped and we begin to see the characteristics of the one we serve become evident in our lives. <img alt="bible" class=" size-medium wp-image-1749 aligncenter" height="225" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/bible.jpg?w=300" style="display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="300" /></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-80515567567055586212016-09-20T08:40:00.002-07:002016-09-20T08:41:11.084-07:00Working on Goals and Life<div class="MsoNormal">
In the past I have had a tendency to begin projects and
abandon them halfway through when something else “shiny” caught my eye. I guess some would say I lack
discipline. I guess some would be right.
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Shortly after I turned 40, I decided I was going to pursue
my dream of writing a book and teaching/speaking with a new fervor. I had tried many times before, but always with
a laidback, if-it’s-meant-to-be-it-will-happen approach. I knew I needed to be intentional and
disciplined. It was all part of the new
mantra I had adopted of, “Screw perfect, I’d rather be brave.” In my first act of bravery I signed up for a
couple online classes with the author of my new life motto, as well as, the
bestselling book “If You Find This Letter,” <a href="http://www.hannahbrencher.com/">Hannah Brencher</a>. In her class she suggested that if we wanted
to get serious we should secure our name as our web address and start
writing. I asked my lovely and talented
friend, Amy, to help me get going. She
graciously obliged. She had <a href="http://ericaberge.com/">ericaberge.com</a>
up and running within two weeks while managing her own business, a job, and
mothering her two kids. I told you, crazy
talented. She told me to write my
introduction post and then we could launch it to the world.<o:p></o:p><br />
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I was excited, but then I started not feeling that great and
I got sidetracked with life. I didn’t
write for three weeks. Some discipline,
huh? It seemed I had slipped back into
my old ways. On fire one minute and
Netflix binge watching the next. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Turns out I wasn’t being a complete loaf as I put all
thoughts aside regarding my new site, I was doing something more productive than discovering the "Gilmore Girls" for the first time, I working on creating another tiny
human. That’s right, we’ve got a new
little Berge going to join our family the beginning of next year. A family of 10! As I am
approaching full relief from the life-makes-me-want-to-hurl stage of pregnancy
I am once again determined to be intentional about my goals and the part this
website will play in it. I hope you will
join me and offer constructive feedback, because although it’s not perfect, I will be brave.<o:p></o:p></div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-54850203676454113412016-08-22T17:45:00.000-07:002016-08-22T17:45:43.682-07:00Finding Your Homeschooling PathA few years ago I wrote an article about finding your homeschooling path. As the school year is about to kick off and mom's everywhere are romanticizing their amazing new curriculums, I wanted to share part of that post here and encourage you to finish reading it in its entirity over at<a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/"> Today's Frugal Mom</a>, because homeschooling is only going to work if you seek God's direction and keep it real. <br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">Four years ago I took my two school-aged children from public school and began homeschooling. We signed up under a state charter school, and I had romanticized my role as my children’s educator. I had wall calendars, alphabets, space posters, and presidential bios posted on our walls. It was my first day homeschooling and it took exactly one hour to realize this was not matching what I had envisioned. Eight hours later, the night ended with a to-do list and nothing crossed off as I sobbed to my husband over some frozen pizza. I felt like a failure.</span><br />
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I was so wrapped up in what I wanted for my children, that my romanticized vision and academic hopes of early graduations were more important than what my children actually wanted or needed. I would like to say Red Baron pizza brought me clarity and perspective and that day two was better, but it wasn’t. I continued to make schedules, jammed curriculum down my children’s throats, iron-fisted education upon them, and “coached” them through the work samples demanded by their charter school. The times we weren’t homeschooling I enjoyed immensely. I liked being around my children and we laughed a lot. However, as soon as I metaphorically placed my teacher hat on, it happened: I spoke, they didn’t listen; I yelled, they cowered; I learned, they tuned me out.</div>
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After a year-and-a-half of hating home educating my children and secretly wishing to send them to a brick-and-mortar school..." <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/finding-your-homeschooling-path/">Continue reading here.</a></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-51381660980667779382016-04-19T13:40:00.000-07:002016-08-22T17:32:16.722-07:00Finding the Church Part II<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
Great news, after months of searching for a church home, we found one!</div>
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Interestingly enough, it has landed us smack dab in the heart of our own home. For the past 8 weeks we have been churching it here on our couches and chairs and around our kitchen table.</div>
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Crazy, right? Don't I know it! It happened within a couple weeks of my <a data-mce-href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/" href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/" style="color: #00aadc;">original post</a>.</div>
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No, we have not resorted to cult tactics to train others to look at the church like we do (although I am fearful others may think we have), rather we have found our tribe! A group of people who were genuinely feeling the same way we were. People who were frustrated by churches with upside down priorities and watered down Gospel messages to attract membership. This tribe of ours desires Jesus, genuine community, and the opportunity for Kingdom impact. We even have a couple of friends who join us that don't believe in God. They come because they like hanging out with us and we love that, because we really like hanging with them too.</div>
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We are worshipping, learning, and relearning together (thanks to our church in California, the <a data-mce-href="http://www.desertvineyard.org" href="http://www.desertvineyard.org/" style="color: #00aadc;">Desert Vineyard</a>, having a live feed), we are eating (a lot), and we are finding the community we've been seeking (within our families and our neighborhoods).</div>
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When I mention eating a lot. I'm not even joking. We have pastries and fruit at the beginning of the actual service and then afterward we have Communion like I have never had it before! Not with flattened bread and juice (although we have done that too) but with lasagna, enchiladas, sandwiches, pizza, and chili. I realize this is by no means a traditional Communion, and I am not trying to downplay the significance of the ceremonial wafer and plastic cup, but these meals we are sharing are some of the most spiritual-filling Communions I have ever partaken. Every time. Every. Single. Time. I am reminded of the sacrifice of Christ and I remember what He did for me, this unlikely group gathered around our house, and those outside its doors. We remember Him. It is sweet and I am grateful.</div>
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Conversations go on for hours; we've even watched the noonday sun disappear behind the horizon on several occasions. Laughter fills the rooms, as do screaming and shrieking kids. This gathering of ours is not for the timid or the easily annoyed, but if you can steel yourself to the fact that after service kids run laps through rooms and a pot-bellied pig might eat the crumbs that fall on the ground by your feet, you will be blessed--it is precious. Burdens are carried together, and we hang out during the week encouraging and helping one another. We even started Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University this week, can you even get anymore church-like than that?</div>
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We don't know what's next for our living room church. We don't know if it will grow or if it will even last. There are things we need to figure out if it does, like how to make singing in front of the television feel like a spiritual experience in a sun-filled living room instead of an awkward daylight group karaoke sing-a-long. We need to tighten up the "children's ministry" because kids just want to play in the yard instead of listening to older kids read Bible stories or do crafts. Despite the lack of structured lessons, our young ones are experiencing a new depth to relationships they have never had in a church setting. Right now we take it one step at a time; trying really hard to love each other well, trying even harder to love God with all that we are, hoping that in this process of finding and becoming the church we show others love in a big way while discovering who he created us to be. </div>
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Wanna join us? Push the pig out of the way and grab a chair, there's always room at the table. </div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-15949703130476334122016-02-07T13:59:00.000-08:002016-02-07T13:59:06.885-08:00The Sorting Process<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.4px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
Last night we watched the "The Good Lie" a film based on the true story of children from Sudan; their fleeing from their village after soliders came in and killed nearly everyone they loved and the opportunity to come to America after 13 years in a refugee camp. It was a good movie with an overwhelming theme of selfless love. As I watched I got teary-eyed quite a few times.</div>
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The tears continued after I got in bed and turned off the lights recounting the day. I had spent time with my family, enjoyed lunch with a friend, helped Brian work on the chicken coop, ate leftovers for dinner in a warm house, watched a movie with the kids, and here I was in my soft comfortable bed--crying. I'm glad Brian was asleep because I don't know how to explain my sadness. As much as I wish everyone had the blessings of my life, my tears weren't for the displaced refugees we had just watched, or those stuck in poverty, as much as they were for me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I can't figure out the discrepency God allows between the lives of the poor and me. I don't know what to do with the chasm that spans the materially poor and the life I live, even with my ripped couches, discount groceries, and thrift store clothes, I should call it what it is--a life of luxury. I have so much. So very much.</div>
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My tears turned to sobbing this morning as I read Psalms that spoke of God's justice and love for the oppressed and the poor. I am unsure of what I am I supposed to do with this churning in my spirit. My life of comfort has become uncomfortable as I continue to wrestle with justice and community. I recognize that gratitude is not enough, that all that I have experienced or possess cannot be simply for me to say, "thanks, God."</div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-74497803805324305782016-02-03T08:06:00.000-08:002016-02-04T09:03:31.738-08:00Here Comes the Bride...<div dir="ltr" style="color: #4f748e; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 38.2883px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
<a data-mce-href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/?preview=true&preview_id=866&preview_nonce=8339694a93&iframe=true" href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/?preview=true&preview_id=866&preview_nonce=8339694a93&iframe=true" style="color: #00aadc;"><img alt="Bride" class=" size-medium wp-image-1137 alignright" height="300" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/bride.jpg?w=203" style="border: 0px; float: right; height: auto; margin: 16px 0px 16px 16px; max-width: 100%;" width="203" />Community fellowship</a>--I'm not sure if church can be as simple as that, but there is something in my heart that tells me it is; something telling me to stop going to church and start going after the church. I am so intimidated by these feelings, not to mention frustrated and hopeful too. I don't want anyone to think the <a data-mce-href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/?preview=true&preview_id=866&preview_nonce=8339694a93&iframe=true" href="https://lifebythehandful.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/finding-the-church/?preview=true&preview_id=866&preview_nonce=8339694a93&iframe=true" style="color: #00aadc;">post</a> I wrote or the ones to come, regardless of rantings, are church-bashing. My goal in doing these posts is to wrestle out my thoughts and to figure out what my part is in the church. In doing so, I want to make sure that as I discuss church, that although frustrated by the church organizations the western world has created, I am respectful of the church as a whole. Why? Because, the Bible tells us that the church is Christ's bride and I don't know any groom that likes someone talking smack about his bride.</div>
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In case you aren't familiar with the bride/bridegroom imagery, here's the back story: The church is not a building, rather it is the people that have admitted that they are sinful (have sinned and continue to struggle with sin) and have asked Jesus to be their personal savior (a.k.a., asked him into their heart) and because of this will have eternal life. In summary, church = people saved by grace (not a building that hosts Sunday services). 2 Corinthians 11:2 says we are made pure by him so that we can be presented as a bride to him. Ephesians 5:25-27 goes on to tell us that Jesus loved the church and gave himself up for her (died) so that she could be holy and spotless. Right now, this time in history, we are experiencing a physical separation period from Christ until he returns; it's like the betrothal period from ancient times when the bride and groom were separated before the wedding (kind of like the day of the wedding for us). When Jesus comes back, the second coming, (the first is when he was born in a manager) is when the church will meet her groom at a fantastic wedding celebration (Revelation 19:7-9). In the meantime, the church's job is to keep herself pure, church buildings could probably handle that, but unfortunately church people can't.</div>
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Despite the church's haggardness, her groom sees through to her beauty. When you think about it, even with our crazy and our issues, the church is stunning; a group (not like five or six people; rather a ton) of believers; <em>all</em> nationalities, <em>all</em> ages, <em>all </em>sizes, <em>all</em> abilities, <em>all</em> worshiping the creator God, <em>all</em> trying to love like Jesus. </div>
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We Americans, innovators that we are, have introduced the entertainment factor to our church organizations. It's like the bride of Christ getting her makeup done by Barnum & Bailey and hiring Lady Gaga to pick out her gown. Here's what I mean by that; church should be more simplistic. The church's beauty shines most when she is not trying to attract people to her, but when she simply seeks the Kingdom of God. Jesus said #1 love God, #2 love people, #3 love yourself (Mark 12:30-31). Simple. Not easy, but simple. The American church often seems to want to be loved rather than to love. They dress up and apply make-up in an attempt to attract people to them with: worship experiences comparable to rock concerts; refreshments like a Parisian cafe; over-the-top events, i.e., the biggest egg hunt this side of the Mississippi and come pet the chickens who laid them. Easy on the ears, delicious in the belly, and fun to attend. Yes! But where is the love? The new American church is focused more on Jesus' #3 of love yourself than the top two. Church organizations feel loved through numbers; attendance for services, number of programs established, money on the offering plate. If the numbers are high, the bride of Christ is looking in the mirror thinking she is looking good. Funny thing is, God isn't concerned with our outward appearance. He is all about the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). How is the worship, our snacks, and our clucky hens showing love to God or people? How is it seeking first the Kingdom of God?</div>
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Look, these things aren't wrong, but when they become the priority of the bride and they are self-serving it's hard for her to keep herself pure for her coming groom and that's our job as Christ's peeps. We are going to fail, we are human and we always do, but we still need to try to love Him and others before self. Seek the Kingdom <em>first,</em> not a church organization's agenda. Maybe instead special effects just short of pyrotechnics that accompany some worship bands we take that money and use it to love God by loving his people. Colored lights don't speak love, but paying for the medical needs of kids in third world countries does. Want to have a cafe that encourages relationship among your parishioners? Great! But how about using the money from that endeavor to hire some single mamas from the neighborhood to work it. Empower them by employing them and let then use the nursery during services as free childcare. I'm seeing some love! Event that is gargantuan for the entire community? Fantastic! (Not gonna lie, I still struggle with some of these events.) Make sure you don't have your whole congregation running an activity or executing "the plan," but have folks wandering around with the sole intent of talking and connecting with new faces and families.</div>
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Have you noticed the anticipation of a man waiting at the alter for his bride? It always gets me. When the music changes during the wedding ceremony and the doors are about to open to reveal the bride and everyone turns to see her enter in her splendor, I always look up front at the groom instead. I love to see him standing there in disbelief that this is his beautiful bride walking to him. The look of love is intense and no matter what has happened before this very moment is now obselote. That's what I want...for me...for us,his church. Because of his great love for us I want to do better. Jesus is coming for his bride and despite our often selfish failings he has made us pure. And for this reason alone, the wedding celebration is going to be OFF-THE-CHAIN. (Does anyone even say that anymore? Regardless, you get the point.)</div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-28631361717945614922016-02-01T08:57:00.000-08:002016-02-01T08:57:14.228-08:00Finding the Church<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
<img alt="Finding the church" class=" wp-image-869 alignleft" height="465" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/finding-the-church.jpg?w=200" style="float: left; height: auto; margin: 16px 16px 16px 0px; max-width: 100%;" width="310" />The church has always been a part of my life and I truly love it. Even before my church-planting great grandparents started hanging out in a basement with some friends to start a church called Community Fellowship in 1943, my "greats" to the nth degree went to church. It's what our family has done and continues to do.</div>
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Jesus lover? Go to church.</div>
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Personally, church is something I have always enjoyed, something I felt gave me purpose, and has been a comforting routine--my touchstone. For the past two years though, my family and I have been on the search for a church to call our own and we have yet to be successful. When we first began to look the criteria went something like: an outward-focused congregation; thought-provoking message; seeker sensitive, yet plainly presents the gospel; David Crowder-esque worship music; within a 45-minute drive of our home. Coming from a church similar to this in California we didn't think it would be that difficult and even though we have found a couple places that have come close to the goal list, something hasn't felt right, not only for me but for my husband, Brian, and our kids too. It seems that God is changing our list and it doesn't include the aforementioned items or even a building, instead God is ironically bringing us back to the name of my great-grandfather's church...Community Fellowship.</div>
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Months ago, Brian and I began working with a ministry that wanted to reach out to individuals being trafficked. Living in a rural area, many don't think that something as horrific as human trafficking could exist here, instead believing that it's reserved for urban areas, but with major routes I-95 and Rte. 40 running through our corn fields and backyards it is more prevalent than we imagined. As we began to raise awareness of the issue I wanted to begin a hands-on ministry that would get us out on the streets to meet those involved and was given the go-ahead by ministry leadership. After multiple interactions and ride-alongs with law enforcement, a group of men and women from different local churches who were interested in doing contact work at night in a town known for prostitution and drugs was formed. We set out to meet the girls of the streets equipped with beautiful cosmetic bags filled with personal hygiene items, condoms and lubricant. In our naivety we imagined meeting the girls standing on the corner, we would talk, offer hope....blah, blah, blah.</div>
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First wake-up call, you can't walk up to a stranger and ask if they are a prostitute. Rude! Secondly, what do you with all the people you encounter on the way to the girl on the corner? So our team of seven tucked our bags away and went out with popsicles instead and talked with everyone we met. During these outings, which we are currently offering hot chocolate with whipped cream, we have kicked it with lots of different people on stoops and street corners; business owners, mamas, daddies, addicts, construction crews, homeless, and prostitutes. The ministry we are working with is still focusing on helping abused and trafficked ladies, but my heart has changed and broadened to just meeting people. All people.</div>
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Like, God created you?</div>
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Let's be friends!</div>
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As we have been out there Brian and I have seen firsthand how relationship deprived people are; to include ourselves. It seems that loneliness spans race, socioeconomic status, age, and issue. Our eyes have been open to see that consistency and friendship are a kingdom serving ministry in itself and it's a ministry that many churches are overlooking. It's not enough to just open your doors to everyone, your demographic and impact broadens when you go out and meet everyone. Twice a month we walk up and down the streets regardless of the weather and we are recognizing faces, able to follow up on stories, praying with folks Christian and non-alike. It's because of these relationships that are beginning to form that I hear a whisper in my heart saying, "you've found her, you've found church." There on the streets a bunch of Jesus-loving redeemed sinners (that's my friends and me) are able to encourage other believers, pray for moms with cancer, talk business with a restaurant owner, share chocolate with a group of strung-out addicts, and plan sporting events with a homeless guy. Take away the "what we do's" and the "what we've done'" labels and there is just a Community of God's creation in Fellowship with one another.</div>
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Yup, there it is, Community Fellowship. We are leaving the building behind; we've found church.</div>
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DISCLAIMER:</div>
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My friend Michele encouraged me to write about the journey of "church" our family is embarking on, because if God is stirring our hearts he is probably stirring others too and right now we feel alone. She thought it would help me sort through feelings, process thoughts, and find kindred spirits. So here it is, laying it out there looking for our tribe, hoping for input, insight, and encouragement from friends. In short a virtual Community Fellowship which will hopefully lead to a physical one.</div>
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We have no idea what this is going to look like or where it will take our family. It's a little bit scary. I am afraid of failing, of backlash, of feeling foolish, of rejection, but I am more afraid of what I will miss out on if I'm not obedient to what He calls us to do. The rest of our crew is more than a little uncomfortable too, but they are willing and ready. (Seriously, is there anything that could make a mama's heart happier than teens pushing through awkward people encounters for Jesus? I didn't think so either.)</div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-89730869246089944012014-11-03T17:18:00.000-08:002016-08-22T17:20:24.332-07:00Forgetting to Say Thank YouThankful to be writing for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/">Today's Frugal Mom</a>.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">Thanksgiving is about expressing gratitude. It’s a time to reflect on the things we have been given, the things we have been kept from, and the things the Lord has removed from our lives.</span><br />
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To get into the spirit of the holidays, we moms typically create daily exercises of gratefulness by making lists of what we are thankful for and posting them on our Facebook pages. We make paper or stick trees to hang leaf ornaments on, until finally we gather around a table overflowing with food, and one by one we share our Thanksgiving appreciation with others.</div>
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Teaching our children and reminding ourselves about gratitude is a powerful tool that we should all apply to our lives, but often we miss the real point of these activities." <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/forgetting-to-say-thank-you/">Continue reading here.</a> </div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-32826260983887485312014-08-22T17:06:00.000-07:002016-08-22T17:26:06.606-07:00Consuming ConsumptionSchool is starting again and I've written another article for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/">Today's Frugal Mom</a>.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">School fliers arrive in the mail touting one-cent glue and crayons for a quarter. Week after week in August, big chain stores make me believe that I need several hundred binders; they make me wonder how I am existing without hole reinforcements for loose-leaf paper. Flash forward to September when I have enough glue for three kindergarten classes and possess more hole punches and push pins than any family would ever need in their entire life. Not to mention, my collection of binders in rainbow colors has grown exponentially and all of my children are wearing hole reinforcements like French manicures.</span><br />
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I’m not sure why I do this to myself. Not just at back-to-school time, but practically every time I am presented with an opportunity to acquire something with little or no money. A clearance rack, a yard sale, a dollar store–suddenly I should be on a TLC show because my appetite for inexpensive material things is insatiable. Please don’t get me wrong; I’m not opposed to having extra things on hand. I totally see the value in that. My issue is having things on hand and then never using them. My problem is stockpiling. Truly, if there is ever a shortage of glue at your local office supply store, it’s probably because I bought it all.</div>
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Over a year ago, God began speaking with me about my consumption and how it was consuming my life." <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/consuming-consumption/">Continue reading here.</a></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-51455457625618142162014-07-28T16:59:00.000-07:002016-08-22T17:02:49.214-07:00Because She's Happy<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px; margin-bottom: 26px; padding: 0px;">
Another article for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/shes-happy/">Today's Frugal Mom</a></div>
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"My friend posted a beautiful picture of her daughter jumping at the water’s edge on a sandy beach with the caption, “Because she’s happy!” It made me think about my own children at the beach. They jump, shriek, dance, and roll in the water and sand for no other reason than pure joy. It’s a beautiful thing, with inhibitions lost in the moment of expressing unadulterated happiness.</div>
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Her photo made my soul smile, but the more I thought about it, it made me a little sad, too. My sadness wasn’t for my friend or her daughter, but for my children and me. My friend’s daughter has Down Syndrome and, while I am no expert on the matter, every person I have ever met with Down’s has never lost their ability to express their contagious child-like joy. My kids, on the other hand, most likely will, because somewhere on this journey through life I’ve lost mine.</div>
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It’s not that I am not joyful, but somewhere I picked up and applied a joy filter to my life. I think many of you can relate. It tends to happen when we become cognizant of others and how they will perceive us, of how they will judge. We begin forfeiting the opportunity to fully embrace our joy, because we stifle the actions that our bodies yearn to express." <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/shes-happy/">Continue reading here.</a></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-88588587919292811672014-07-22T17:13:00.000-07:002016-08-22T17:14:46.083-07:00When Your Kid Stops Believing"<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">My 16-year-old son came home from spending a week at a renowned Christian camp and announced that he didn’t know if he believed in God anymore. Not the thing a mom would expect to hear within five minutes after getting in the car with the kid who was just high-fived by the entire coach bus of students and leaders and seemingly couldn’t stop smiling. Nope. I was expecting the typical camper spiritual high. The on-fire-for-Jesus excitement after total Jesus immersion for a week. Instead I got the 'I don’t know if this God stuff is for me.'” <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/when-your-kid-stops-believing/">Continue reading here.</a></span><br />
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Sharing my heart on <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/">Today's Frugal Mom</a>.lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-21492048109489229292014-06-13T07:07:00.000-07:002016-08-22T07:50:57.650-07:00Sheltered Lives<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "bitstream charter" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">My latest article for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/" target="_blank">Today's Frugal Mom</a>:</span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "bitstream charter" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "bitstream charter" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">" </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">My children wear seat belts in the car. I make them wear helmets when they ride things with wheels. I limit their candy intake. I have a water filter on our sink to ensure the water they drink is clean. I don’t allow them to play by the road. These are typical boundaries to ensure our children’s safety that I think most people would agree upon, because they physically protect our kids.</span><br />
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However, when I say my children are not allowed to watch certain movies or t.v. shows, people tell me I’m overprotective. <span style="line-height: 21.8px;">If I mention that our teenagers are not allowed to date, people think I am robbing them of their youth. When I mention that one of the reasons I homeschool is because I would like input into who is influencing our children’s lives, people assume I am controlling.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 21.8px;">I find the irony somewhat amusing that people of today’s culture would never want their children to have skinned knees because of the scar it would leave, but they believe that a teenager with a broken heart builds character."...</span><span style="line-height: 21.8px;"> </span> <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/living-sheltered-lives/" target="_blank">Continue reading here...</a></div>
lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-76332304028047803772014-05-28T15:20:00.000-07:002016-08-22T08:03:53.007-07:00Laundry Washing World Changer<div class="mceTemp" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
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<dt class="wp-caption-dt" style="-webkit-user-drag: none;"><a data-mce-href="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic2.jpeg" href="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic2.jpeg" style="-webkit-user-drag: none;"><img alt="tohpic2" class="wp-image-522 size-full" data-mce-src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic2.jpeg" height="165" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic2.jpeg" style="-webkit-user-drag: none; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" width="250" /></a></dt>
<dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="-webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 4px 5px;">This women is an artisan in a residential program in Tennessee that provides housing, food, dental, medical, therapy, education and job training for women who have survived lives of violence, prostitution and addiction.</dd></dl>
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I think most people want to make a difference in the lives of others, but often they don't know how. <br />
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That was me. <br />
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Wanting to make a difference in my home, in my new community, in the world, but completely unaware of how to do it. I wanted to fulfill the commandment of Christ to make disciples in all the nations. It was a command I had been neglecting. I knew this command went deeper than monetary support with our sponsor child and missionary support. He was calling me to take action. I was excited at the prospect and wanted to get messy, get loud, get moving, but I still had a husband and seven kids to care for. That's when I sought out Trades of Hope.<br />
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They are doing the work. They aren't just throwing money at the world's problems, they are changing lives by empowering women; strengthening community by giving hope; transforming generations by breaking harmful cycles; and because of that they are making disciples in all the nations.<br />
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I thought, "Amen! I want to be a part of that!"<br />
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Thanks to Trades of Hope I can. I can actively pursue helping others, building relationships, being an advocate, making disciples, and still keep up with my children's neverending laundry. Life changing and Laundry? Amen, again!<br />
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I am now a voice for a woman whose voice is lost across the sea, whose voice is stifled by government, pimps, and culture. I think you will want to be her voice too and the way to get her talking is wearing her handmade goods. When someone asks you about it, you tell her story and then her voice is heard once more.<br />
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Help me change lives: <a href="http://www.mytradesofhope.com/ericaberge" target="_blank">www.mytradesofhope.com/ericaberge</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-mce-href="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic.jpg" href="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic.jpg" style="-webkit-user-drag: none; clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="This woman is an artisan from a group in Uganda that feeds, educates, and encourages orphaned and vulnerable children and families in Uganda." class="size-medium wp-image-523" data-mce-src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic.jpg?w=199" height="300" src="https://lifebythehandful.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/tohpic.jpg?w=199" style="-webkit-user-drag: none; border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "bitstream charter" , "times" , serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">This woman is an artisan from a group in Uganda that feeds, educates, and encourages orphaned and vulnerable children and families in Uganda.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."</span><br />
<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: black; font-family: "verdana" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.8em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-spacing: normal;">Proverbs 31:8-9</span></div>
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lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-13367760714378167532014-05-24T15:34:00.001-07:002016-08-22T07:50:21.844-07:00The Touch of JesusI've been missing.<br />
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I know I've been MIA from the bloggysphere before, this time my excuse was legit. We have picked up all we have known, everything our children were familiar with and left it behind as we transplanted from one coast to the other.<br />
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It's been tough.<br />
It's been tougher than tough. <br />
It's sucked. <br />
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After months of loneliness, of frustration, of loathing; I have sought the Lord and endured. It's not a hundred percent, but I'm walking. I'm lonely, frustrated, and occasionally loathing but I'm holding His hand. <br />
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I feel it.<br />
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Here's my latest article for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/" target="_blank">Today's Frugal Mom</a>:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;"><span id="goog_267762276"></span><span id="goog_267762277"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>"My family is in the midst of one of the biggest transitions of our lives. We have moved back to the state where both my husband and I grew up. It’s where we went to school, where we fell in love, and where all of our extended family resides."... <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/the-touch-of-jesus/" target="_blank">Continue reading here...</a></span>lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-17332047418405017552014-02-19T13:42:00.000-08:002018-02-03T13:43:49.075-08:00God and the Guinea Pig Yesterday a guinea pig made me angry at God.<br />
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It had been coming. The guinea pig was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. I'm quite aware of how ridiculous this sounds. I'm also aware this isn't right, afterall, who am I to be angry at the Creator of the Universe? But I was. Kinda still am.<br />
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Two months ago we moved back to the town where my husband and I grew up. For 18 years we had been living in California where we started our family, had a nice home, a church family that blessed us beyond belief, and friends that were our family. We left it behind to connect with our roots. To give our kids green grass and lightening bugs. I thought it was what I wanted, I thought it would be great, I thought it was what the Lord wanted for us and now I think I want to go back and this was all a big mistake.<br />
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Before you launch into the "How's Your Heart Checklist":<br />
✅I've been praying about it. ✅I've been in the Word everyday. I still feel the same. I still feel like God isn't saying a thing on the topic. Actually, He doesn't seem to be saying anything about anything I've been bringing to his attention. I thought maybe I am too needy and instead of asking, I should be thanking for the blessings I do have. ✅So I've been intentional in praising. <br />
All I'm getting is a dial tone.<br />
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We have found a house at our new locale, but can't do anything about it till our old house sells- which it's not. The realtor says it doesn't look promising, but I remind myself nothing is impossible with my God. We have desperately been church shopping and can't find what we want or where we feel a connection. We continue to seek, because scripture says eventually we will find.<br />
I feel like we are in limbo on every level.<br />
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It's not just been about me though, I've been petitioning heaven for those I love: a dear friend who died from cancer, his sweet wife he left behind; my friend fighting immigration laws to be reunited with her husband and how she spent Valentine's alone; a friend from high school and her devastated family who lost one of their own to a battle with cancer as well; for my lonely kids to make friends; our sixteen-year-old devising a plan to go back to Cali because he hates it here so much.<br />
It's tough.<br />
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I'm questioning God and everything else. I feel as if the things I've been praying for shouldn't be on God's radar anyway, after all, people in the world don't have clean drinking water, others need doctors and food, people are being trafficked. Who am I that I should even matter? I have the basic necessities and I'm praying for a <i>freaking</i> house. Why does it matter to me? I guess the better question is, does it <i>even </i>matter? Because if it does, He ain't talking. <br />
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I was thinking it was just his will not to answer right now concerning the house, but nothing is being answered in my favor, is it possible that I'm just asking for <i>everything</i> wrong? <br />
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Enter the guinea pig. We were having a particularly rough day yesterday. Everyone was bickering, shoving, getting on one another's nerves so I decided for sanity's sake to go for a drive. I told the kids it was a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure drive. At certain stop signs and lights I'd ask left or right and they had control over where we would go. About 40 minutes into the trip we decided to visit a farm auction so the kids could see the animals and we could stuff our feelings with soft pretzels. The time was enjoyable and as we were leaving we saw a tiny guinea pig in a cage laying on its side breathing heavily.We brought the little fella's condition to the attention of one of the nearby workers who reached in, scooped him out and headed to the trashcan. The waterworks welled up in all of our eyes and I asked the man if we could take it instead. The man obliged but his stern farmers face knew we were just prolonging the inevitable. I was determined to prove him wrong because...Jesus! And that's what we named him, Jesus. We took that little guinea pig and wrapped him in a cloth diaper I had in the truck to keep him warm and began the drive home. We prayed over this little guy, like prayed-prayed, like Benny-Hinn-heal-what-ails-you prayers. I had the faith of the mustard seed, I was certain that if I told the mountains to move, they would have said, "Sure thing, Erica, to the left or the right?" Piled in the truck with the heat going and the radio on we were joyful, singing songs, laughing and imagining how to retell the story to Brian and my parents of how Jesus entered our lives. We only had twenty minutes until we were to arrive home when our efforts failed or maybe it was just God's lack of effort. Jesus breathed his last breath and lay limp in Brynna's hands. Seriously. God, could you not have given us this? Given us little furry Jesus to show us in a tangible way that despite appearances you are still with us in this? That you care and all that other stuff was going to be okay? The answer was No. A big fat nopety-nope.<br />
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I know I have no right to question the Creator of the Universe, and you can think I am teetering on blasphemy, but I'm still kind of mad that Jesus died. That I'm doing the Christian check boxes and he is making me out to be a liar in front of my kids, in front of the friends asking me to pray, and making me question is this for real. I have no right to be angry I know, but feelings are a funny thing.<br />
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<br />lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273022453795427751.post-84560959291041697132013-09-04T08:39:00.002-07:002016-08-22T07:56:52.535-07:00Life and DeathMy most recent post for <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/" target="_blank">Today's Frugal Mom</a> still makes me cry three months after writing it. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.8px;">"Learning happens all the time. No matter what we are doing in our lives, we are gleaning new information, perfecting past actions, figuring out what will result from our current efforts. Even when we are doing 'nothing,' our brains are churning thoughts, processing past experiences, and pondering future possibilities. Life teaches. It’s what it was created to do. My husband and I believe life is a better teacher than we will ever be; after all, when a life is lived fully, few important things slip through its 'curriculum.'...” <a href="http://todaysfrugalmom.com/life-and-death/" target="_blank">Continue Reading Here...</a></span>lifebythehandfulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02844337912243724811noreply@blogger.com0