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Since I did not get writing yesterday AND I slept in, today is a repost of a previously published post.

It was the first one to come to my mind, since I have noticed that it has been viewed a bit over the past couple of weeks.

Although this post was directed at one particular young lady, it is applicable to most females, as we all have days, and seasons when we are particularly hard on ourselves, and we miss out on the gift that we are created to be.

“Want to know a secret?
Promise not to tell?
We are standing by a wishing well.
Make a wish into the well,
that’s all you have to do
and if you hear it echoing.
Your wish will soon come true.”
Snow White

Since I started to read blogs, and write my own, I have gotten to know such a great and growing group of writers. Some are far away, and some are quite nearby.

One such blogger lives nearby. She is a delightful, honest, passionate writer. She shares her heart, not in a guarded way, but fully, truthfully. She is more than half my age, and she inspires me to be as transparent as she. I love to read of her experiences and her feelings about whatever is going on in her life.

I recently was reading a truthful post of hers, and it made me cry.

Her post was a post of her wishes, her deepest desires. Wishes that her physical body was different. Wishes that her spiritual walk was different. Wishes that her social life was different. Wishes that her future life’s direction was clear to her. Wishes, wishes, wishes.

This post made my eyes leak, because I understood each and every wish on her list (with just a few details changed). Some of her wishes were ones I shared with her, when I was her age. Many were wishes that I have had throughout my life, since puberty. Her wishes were ones that we females share with each other. They bind us together in our insecurities around life and living, around our rejection and acceptance of ourselves.

So, I want this to be a message to my blogger friend. I wish that for all females who read my words, may they echo in the wishing wells of your lives.

I wish for you …
that you could see how beautiful you are … inside and out. You have eyes that shine with a passion for life, and for your life-giver. You have friends who back you up, who wrap their arms around you, who walk through joys and struggles with you. I wish that you could see that your size is not as important as your presence. I wish that you could know that the numbers on the scale are not as important as you think … I wish you knew that YOU are more than a number! I wish that you could see that the habits you want to rid yourself of, also give you room for learning perseverance, struggle, strength and success … I wish you knew how how this hard work will give you ways to help others, in their own struggles, in the future. I wish you knew that God hears your heart when you sing, and it is a most beautiful sound to His ears. I wish there was a way to convince you that you do not need a boyfriend, a date for grad … but that wish you have is part of who you are, and, one day, he will arrive … he is just not ready for you yet. I wish you knew that in just a few weeks, those outstanding assignments will not matter.

You are loved, you are cherished, you are awesome … you couldn’t be better!

Oh, and did you know that your name has an ‘i’ in it? But it is a capital ‘I’.

My dear blogger friend, may my words echo, not just in a wishing well, but in your heart as well.


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I love a story, and it is even better when it is read to you.

There are times when I think that I should work in an elementary school, just so that story-telling would be part of my every day (NOT! There is NOTHING that could lure me to work in an elementary school).

The guest post for today comes from author and speaker Liz Curtis Higgs, whose home page says, “welcome to the forgiven life” … ahhhhhh, what a great introduction!

When I opened my email and read her story of the woman who touched the robe of Jesus, I felt like I was there, like I was a spectator to the event, like I was part of this story of faith.

Each of the gospels that tells the story gives little detail of what happened, and yet each gives the most important details, and Liz draws out the significance of each, making the story come alive in the heart and mind of the reader.

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Here is your Sunday Morning Story:

Let me tell you a story.

Come with me to the first century, to Capernaum, a fishing village on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee—a lake, actually, and a beautiful one, surrounded by low hills.

This is the town Jesus called home as an adult: “Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake” (Matthew 4:13). A place of miracles and healings. A sacred place.

I visited there once. Took shelter from the rain beneath a grove of olive trees. Wept at the nearness of Jesus. Taught the stories of biblical women while standing amid the synagogue ruins. Two thousand years ago we would have found Jesus there, “teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum” (John 6:59).

If you love maps and chronologies, or simply long to know when and where such stories in the Gospels take place, check out this incredible timeline that walks you through the life of Christ, year by year, miracle by miracle.

In Capernaum we’ll meet someone who doesn’t just talk about her faith—she walks out her faith, and in doing so captures what it means to “Embrace Faith.”

A woman was there… Mark 5:25

A woman. No name. No age. Could be any of us.

Jesus has just arrived on the lake shore, where a large crowd gathers around him, pressing him from every side. When you’re a miracle worker, everyone wants a piece of you.

Our woman is “among them” (CJB), “in the crowd” (CEV), hoping no one recognizes her. She’s come a long way to see this man. Thirty miles, some scholars say—a great distance for a woman who is not only unclean but unwell.

…who had been subject to bleeding… Mark 5:25

I gasped the first time I read this story as a new believer. Are we talking about that kind of bleeding? In the Bible? Yes. Call it what you will—“a flow of blood” (AMP), “a hemorrhage” (CJB), “the bloody flux” (WYC)—this is every woman’s nightmare. An endless period. Not just one week a month, but every week of every month, she “suffered…with constant bleeding” (NLT).

…for twelve years. Mark 5:25

Twelve. Years.

Add a dozen years to your current age. Imagine bleeding nonstop from now until then. No, no, no.

This unnamed woman has earned our sympathy in a matter of words. The pain, the shame, the hygiene issues, the anemia, the exhaustion.

Desperate for relief, she did what we all would likely do. She sought earthly help first.

She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors… Mark 5:26

Are we reading this right? The doctors increased her suffering? Sadly, that’s what every English translation tells us. She “endured many things under many physicians” (LEB), who “treated her, and treated her badly” (MSG).

Not only is her body bleeding; her bank account has been bled dry as well.

…and had spent all she had,… Mark 5:26

Bless her, she “spent everything” (CEB), “her life savings” (CJB), “all the money she had” (NIRV). So, she is not only living with pain, she is also living in poverty.

And if all that isn’t heartbreaking enough…

…yet instead of getting better she grew worse. Mark 5:26

I can’t bear it, can you? Her health is shattered, her money is gone, and she’s worse now than she was before. But she has not lost her grip on hope.

This is what makes her story so remarkable. She doesn’t give up on God. She doesn’t, at least in the biblical record, question God. She doesn’t abandon her faith, even though her world appears to be falling apart. She still believes.

Faith is all she has left. And faith is all she will need.

Many of us struggle daily—with health concerns, money woes, loneliness, family drama, mounting fears—wondering why God hasn’t delivered us from our misery. If he can end it, why doesn’t he do so right now?

Anyone who thinks they have an answer to this question is making stuff up. We cannot speak for God. We cannot explain why he acts or does not act. What we can do is trust him, put our hope in him, and seek his face.

Here’s what that looks like.

When she heard about Jesus,… Mark 5:27

You know he was the talk of the Galilee. All those healings? All those miracles? Our girl “heard the reports” (AMP). She kept her ear to the ground. She kept her heart open to the possibility. And when the news reached her corner of the world, she made tracks for Jesus Town.

…she came up behind him in the crowd… Mark 5:27

This is very descriptive. She didn’t just walk up to him. She came from behind, where she could see him, but he couldn’t see her. Why? Because she’s a bleeding woman. She really shouldn’t be out in public, where someone might brush against her.

The rules for women during their monthlies were very strict: “anyone who touches her will be unclean till evening” (Leviticus 15:19).

The one thing no one wants to do is touch her, or have her touch them.

That’s why she approaches him from behind “under cover of the crowd” (MSG). She’s hoping she can snag a miracle, then make a run for it, with no one the wiser—least of all him.

This woman who isn’t supposed to touch anyone is about to break the Law.

…and touched his cloak, Mark 5:27

Whether you call it his “garment” (ASV), his “clothes” (CEB), or his “robe” (NLT), it’s his outer clothing, the first thing her fingers could reach.

And she must be bending down, nearly crawling on all fours, because the way Matthew 9:20 tells it, she touches the “hem” (KJV), the “fringe” (NASB), the “bottom of his coat” (NLV). Perhaps she feels unworthy of touching his sleeve or his shoulder. Or perhaps she just doesn’t want to be discovered.

Here’s what matters most: she has the faith to reach out in the first place. She believes the Lord has the power to heal her.

because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Mark 5:28

She thought. She believed. She trusted. And because of that she reached. She put her faith in motion.

Truth is, she did so miles ago when she left the safety of her home and started out for Capernaum. It was a walk of faith on the outside, yet a leap of faith on the inside.

Too often we base our faith on how we feel. A better measure is how we act, what we do. This is what James 2:17 is trying to get across: “If it is just faith and nothing more—if it doesn’t do anything—it is dead.”

She knew exactly the outcome she wanted and she believed with all her heart it was possible. This thought of hers must have rolled over and over in her mind: “I shall be made whole” (ASV), “I shall be restored to health” (AMP), “I’ll be made well!”” (HCSB)

It is right and good to pray for faith. Then it’s time to move. Stretch out our hands. That’s when miracles happen.

Immediately her bleeding stopped… Mark 5:29

She didn’t just feel better; “her flow of blood was dried up at the source” (AMP). Hallelujah!

…and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. Mark 5:29

Even more than a physical kind of “feeling,” this was a spiritual awareness. “She knew she was well” (CEV). Imagine it! All the burdens she brought with her are gone in an instant. No more pain, no more shame, and no more blood.

At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. Mark 5:30

Uh-oh. She’s not the only one who noticed this seismic change. Jesus sensed it too. This miracle took place in the spiritual realm—her faith, his power—yet both of them felt it in the physical realm. Blood stopped. Energy flowed. Zap.

He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” Mark 5:30

Right about now our girl’s stomach must be tied in a knot. He knows. Even though he’s asking a question, she can see he already has the answer. He turned around, didn’t he? He’s looking for her. He knows.

Alas, the duh-sciples do not know. They usually don’t. A miracle occurs right in front of them, and they miss it. We do the same, all day long, usually because we’re looking in the wrong direction. Or thinking too much about ourselves.

“You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’” Mark 5:31

Bless them. They are clueless here. You can almost hear a faint note of scolding in their words, or at the very least, incredulity. “Look at how many people are pushing against you! And you ask, ‘Who touched me?’” (NCV)

Jesus doesn’t let their lack of faith slow him down. He’s too busy eyeballing the crowd.

But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Mark 5:32

She could have avoided his gaze, crawled away, kept her healing to herself. But those are cowardly acts, and faith always requires a measure of courage.

She walked many miles. She stretched out her hand. This is her third act of faith: she throws herself at his feet.

Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet… Mark 5:33

This is so brave. After all, she’s just stolen a miracle. Jesus might take it back, if such a thing could be done. She might start bleeding again. The crowd might stone her for breaking the Law. Who knew how this might end?

No wonder she’s frightened. And yet, she speaks to him—another act of faith.

…and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. Mark 5:33

We can see her shaking all over as she confesses “the whole story” (ERV) to Jesus. What exactly does she tell him? Leave it to Dr. Luke to fill in the blanks for us: “In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed” (Luke 8:47).

Ah. Her faith is so strong, she holds back nothing. I believed. I touched. I was healed.

He  said to her, “Daughter,…” Mark 5:34

Hit the pause button. This is too big not to mention. It’s the only time Jesus addresses a woman as “Daughter,” and it’s this woman. This ostracized, unclean, don’t-get-anywhere-near-her woman. He’s telling everyone in the crowd, “She’s family. She’s one of us. She’s mine.”

And then he tells her something amazing.

…“your faith has healed you.” Mark 5:34

We know the power went out from him. So, didn’t he heal her? Yes, but…she had to reach out, believing it would happen.

For years I struggled with the fact that she touched his garment, breaking the Law of Moses to do so. And then one day it hit me: if her faith was part of the miracle, then when she stretched out her hand, she was already healed.

The threads of that garment had nothing to do with her being made well. The power of Jesus passed right through that fabric and met her where she was, crouched down behind him in the crowd.

When he tells her, “you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole” (MSG), that’s not just for her sake. All the people pressing against him need to hear it too. It’s as if he is saying, This is how it works, people. This is what faith looks like.

His last word to her is a sweet benediction.

“Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:34

Shalom. Peace. It’s a freedom like no other.

I was in the midst of working on this week’s study when an email appeared that could only have been prompted by the Holy Spirit. Ruth Ann, a seven-year breast cancer survivor, wrote, “I am thankful for each day I have. I was scared to death at first, but God gave me peace.”

Isn’t that what we all long for? Not the absence of troubles, but peace in the midst of them.

Ruth Ann shared the whole truth, just like our woman in Capernaum: “I realized that God was in control, not me. God was and is with me.”

There it is. The big aha. The two things you need to know in life:

God is in control. God is with you.

Peace.

Now, it’s your turn:

I’ve held your many comments close to my heart all week, wishing I had the right words of comfort or counsel. Then I realized that it isn’t words you need: it’s Jesus, the living Word.

And so I pray that he makes himself known to you this week, and that you will hear his voice and sense his presence and know you are loved, whatever you’ve done or not done, and wherever you find yourself at the moment.

I do hope you’re reading Embrace Grace, since the material here on my blog is, by intent, completely different (who wants to read the same thing twice?). Also, I long for you to get all the encouragement you need, and all the grace God has prepared for you.

I’ll share my own brief answers to this week’s questions. Then might you choose one and offer a response? Sometimes by putting our thoughts on screen, we discover what our next step should be. I’ll be praying for each of you by name as I read your comments.

  • What does “faith in God” mean to you?
    Trusting him with my past, present, and future. Believing his Word is true. Knowing his love is boundless. Embracing the gift of his grace. Not demanding evidence of his existence, because I already see his handiwork everywhere I turn.
  • If you imagined Jesus looking at you, what might you see in his eyes?
    Love, because I’m his. Sorrow, because he bore all my sins. Compassion, because, despite my huge flaws, he knows how much I long to please him. Mercy, because he understands how desperately I need his forgiveness and his strength.
  • Since we cannot physically look upon the Lord’s face, then where do we turn to “see” him?
    His Word, first and foremost. Music that glorifies him. Messages filled with his truth. The beauty of his creation. The kindness of his people. The innocent faces of children. The love of family and close friends.

Praying for you this day, beloved.

Your sister, Liz

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Cubes - 379 - INFLUENCE

Influence can be good or bad … lets consider the good.

Who has influenced you?

Who has changed your life?

What you do …

What you say …

How you think …

How you live …

There are many in my life who have influenced me for good. My parents, other family members, friends along the way, teachers, my hubby, my children.

One of the events, the other day, was that the youth pastor of our church was taking our son out for lunch, and it reminded me of a person who influenced me as a teen of about the same age as my son.

I did not grow up as a ‘church kid’ who was marinated in the things of that institution from conception onward. I went to Sunday School, and to the summer DVBS (Daily Vacation Bible School) programs, but I did not know the ins and the outs of church life (some days I see that as a blessing … after all, we church people are so very human).

What I did know about church came from my own observations … old women had VERY hairy legs, my grandmother sang like Lucille Ball, do NOT run in the sanctuary, and that church is a place where you get cookies and juice (truly, feeding my sugar-cravings was the way to ensure I came back).

The most important learning I received at church came from my Sunday School teacher when I was in middle school.

Beth was a lovely, loving lady. Not a nasty word was ever spoken from her mouth, and she greeted each of us with a warm, welcoming and sincere embrace. She was a wife of a pig farmer, and mother to two little boys. They did not have much money, yet her eyes glittered with more joy than any other person I knew. She loved us all equally, whether we were a ‘church kid’ or just some kid from the community who was brought faithfully to Sunday School each and every week.

In Beth’s presence I felt cared for, accepted, and loved far beyond what I expected from someone who was not family. It was the way that Beth loved me, loved all the girls in that class, that made me see the possibilities of a life with Jesus as the model. And, for me, Beth was that model of Christ’s love for me.

She shared of her life as a believer in Christ, she shared of her life as a wife, as a mom. She held nothing back when she shared of her own experiences in those roles.

She lived the life of being patient and kind, she did not envy, or boast, and was not proud. She did not dishonor others, and was not self-seeking, easily angered, and kept no record of wrongs. She did not delight in evil but rejoiced with the truth. She always protected, always trusted, always hoped, always persevered.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7).

In her Sunday School class, Beth taught … from the Bible. My most long lasting memory is a continuing lesson on faith, that was rooted in:

“Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.”
Hebrews 11:1 (NLT)

The teaching of that lesson … teaching about hope, teaching about faith influenced my life even until today. And she communicated love in the most consistent of ways.

I am thankful for this sister-in Christ, who influenced me so significantly.

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Church is for the weak …

It is a sentence, a belief, an experience …

a truth.

I have no problem with owning up to that statement as reality for me, personally. I have no problem telling others that I go to church, that I believe in the crucified, dead and buried Christ who also rose on the third day, and that He is coming again …

because I am weak.

I have the hereditary disease called sin. It affects every part of who I am, and how I live. It is a guaranteed death sentence.

It may not have been me (or you) who said yes to that fruit of the tree in the garden (if it was an apple, and if it was me who was tempted, I would have said yes even more quickly than Eve), but we still carry the genetic markers for sin, because we still make mistakes, we still mess things up, we still say and do ridiculous things … we still die.

John 3:16 states, “for God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” You see I … we, were all conceived into sin, all conceived with a destiny with an end. But Christ came, just as the perfect young lambs that were slaughtered in the Old Testament stories. It was through the sacrifice of this spotless lamb, in the form of Jesus, that our sins were erased … our life here on Earth had a purpose … that eternal life was made available.
That does not mean that we have it all together. Every breath we take provides yet another opportunity to sin all over again, but, in the eyes of our Creator, that sin was erased … before we even thought about it.
I recently read the following:
“Satan knows our names, and calls us by our sins,
Christ knows our sins, and calls us by His name.”
I am a sinner, but, through the grace of God, I am cleansed of that sin by the blood sacrifice of His Son.
I am weak, but God’s grace is greater!
And it is in church where I am reminded, regularly, that the prescription for my weakness has been paid for, administered, and it is a once and for all application.
“Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.”

2 Corinthians 12:8-10

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“Time to take chances, make mistakes, get messy,” said Ms. Frizzle every day in our house, when the kids were younger.

I wonder who learned Ms. Frizzle’s motto better, the kids, or me?

For the past week and a half I have been living her motto, although not in the area of Science, but the area of home renovations. This is always a perfect way for me to start my summer break. I have the opportunity to get creative, and to get projects that have been taking up head space done and filed away.

This year I started with the room our ‘faux daughter’ (International student) occupied for the past two years. She is off to a different school, in a different city in the fall, so all of her belongings were moved out … then the work began. Furniture moved out and sold (thank-you craigslist), walls needed to be washed, sticky ‘stuff’ scrubbed away, nails removed, paint touched up, ceiling re-oiled, and edges of the carpet cleaned. Once it was all clean and fresh, hubby moved his office furniture in, so as to have a private place to work, as he often works from home.

Then the pièce de résistance, the remodel of the basement bedroom into a new, more private (for she and we …) space for our almost twenty-one year old (is that really possible?).

I started with the very outdated bathroom. The cabinet (as old as our thirty’ish year old home) got a fresh coat of paint, as did the walls and door. Still to come is a new sink and toilet, then a really good floor scrubbing!

Next was the bedroom. The carpet was rolled up (to be moved into the room our daughter will be vacating), as was the under-pad. The walls cleaned, cracks filled, floor swept. Then the primer and paint were applied to the walls, and now the floor is littered with baseboards and moldings that will be installed after the laminate.

Each day ends, and I am dirtier, more messy than the day before. I haul my tired butt up the stairs, scrub all of my 2000 body parts, then fall into bed, where I drift off to an exhausted, dreamless sleep-land. Then I awake the next morning, feeling the presence of more muscles than I ever thought I had before, and do it all over again.

And I love it!

I get to create.

I get to redeem the old, the broken, the ugly.

I get to bring life to the dull, the faded, the hidden.

I get to spend my hours listening to music and speakers whose messages speak into my tired heart, mind and soul.

I get to feel real, well-earned, physical fatigue.

I get to get messy … then see the difference that a good cleaning will do (after-all cleanliness IS next to godliness, right?).

As I awoke the other day, I realized how very rested, how very revived and refreshed I felt from this process. Perhaps more of us should try ‘getting messy’ when the stuff of life takes over our thoughts and sleep.

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might”
Ecclesiastes 9:10

 

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One day last summer I captured, in the picture above, a dragonfly on one of my hydrangea flowers. I have to say, it is a great picture, full of color and light and life. It is not everyday that amateurs like me have such an opportunity to take such a beautiful photo (the photographers reading this would undoubtedly not see it as technically beautiful).

There is only one problem with this photo … it is a fake!

You see, the day I took this photo the hydrangeas were looking spectacular, and so I walked over to them to get a closer look at their beauty. It was when I got to a particular plant that I noticed something laying on the landscape tie below the blooms. What was lying there was a dragonfly … a beautiful, marvelous dragonfly … which was dead. So, I gently lifted the dragonfly and placed it on the flower.

What appeared to be so real, so beautiful, so full of life, was actually dead.

As Christians we can be so much like that dragonfly.

We do all that we should.

We look so good on the outside.

Our appearance draws others to us.

But, we are lifeless, dead on the inside.

Just like the dragonfly that I placed on the hydrangea, placing us in this beautiful creation does not change the fact that we are withering on the inside.

Although there was no hope for the dragonfly, there is much hope for us.

Ezekiel 37 tells us:

‘Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone, there’s nothing left of us.’
“Therefore, prophesy.
Tell them, ‘God, the Master, says:
I’ll dig up your graves and bring you out alive—O my people!
Then I’ll take you straight to the land of Israel.
When I dig up graves and bring you out as my people,
you’ll realize that I am God.
I’ll breathe my life into you and you’ll live.
Then I’ll lead you straight back to your land and you’ll realize that I am God.
I’ve said it and I’ll do it.
God’s Decree.’”

“God’s Decree” … I think what was really meant was ‘pinky swear.’

He says it, and He will do it … now, the first step is to realize that He is God.

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sequestered – kept separated and secluded (freedictionary.com)

The idea of being sequestered was central to how I spent this past Saturday.

Our daughter is off at a Christian camp, but she is not a camper this time, she is a C. I. T. (counselor in training).

I knew it would be good when she will filling out all of the paperwork necessary for her application into the C. I. T. program. There was the standard application forms to fill in, along with medical forms, activity checklist, three written references, a statement of faith questionnaire, as well as a telephone interview.

She got the nod that she was accepted, followed by a weekend of service to the camp in early June, from which she returned with more paperwork to fill out, as well as assignments and devotionals to complete before she returned at the end of June, for two weeks of study and learning, followed by an exam, then a week of assisting in the cabins. If all goes well she will return in August for a week of having her very own cabin of kids to oversee (with assistance).

All last week I received notes requesting that I come to visit her at the camp. With each note I had felt as though I could see her grow, much like an adolescent growing taller during a growth spurt. But this growth was not in height, it was growth and development in her understanding and knowledge of the Bible.

Upon seeing her and hearing of her first week at camp, I realized that, although this sort of growth was possible in any time and place, it was especially significant when it was part of a time of seclusion, separation, sequestering. She had times of learning, times of prayer, times of worship, times of study, incorporated as priorities in her daily schedule. She did not have to ‘squeeze’ these important practices into her days, they were part of the framework, part of the foundation of her daily schedule so that it would be accomplished.

I am eager to see how this learning opens her eyes to all that God has for her, to all that He has planned for her life.

May we all have, and take, the opportunity to be sequestered, if just for a day, to be transformed.

“Do not be conformed to this world,
but be transformed by the renewal of your mind,
that by testing you may discern what is the will of God,
what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
Romans 12:2

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As I read the following post, by Kristen Strong, I felt I were hearing words and thoughts that have been my own at various times, concerning various relationships and situations of life. I think we all can relate to what she has communicated.

We have all had those hopeless thoughts, those hopeless moments, those hopeless seasons when our view of the future is hidden by a black veil. Moments when all hope seems lost.

In the following post, from (in)courage, Kristen reminds us of the hope that is always available to us … and it’s truly not a bother.

“I make my way to the bathroom after yet another frustrating conversation. I shut the door and lean hard on the pedestal sink as I look at myself in the mirror. Weary words swirl like smoke around me,20130706-080531.jpg

Why must this relationship be so difficult?

Why can’t it look different?

And really, why do I even bother?

I close my eyes, open them again. I wish for my daughter’s magic wand and a fairytale fix to this real life mess. After all, there’s not a chance in the world things will ever change. We’re at a dead-end country lane, and all we can do is back up and travel the same gravel over and over.

It’s too far gone, too hope-gone.

My attitude resembles that of the man from the house of Jairus as told in the book of Luke. Jairus, a synagogue ruler, pleads with Jesus to come to his house because his only daughter is dying. While Jesus and Jairus are still en route, a man from Jairus’ house meets them along the way and tells Jairus,

“Your daughter is dead…Don’t bother the teacher any more.” ~Luke 8:49

Jairus’ daughter died.

With circumstances too far gone, why bother Jesus?

My own frustration asks the same thing. This relationship is too hopeless, too broken, too dead. Why bother Jesus with this anyway? So I give up on my prayers, on Him.

And then I’m smacked upside the head with a startling reality: In cherry picked difficulties like this relationship, I’m an unbeliever. Or at least, I’m acting like one.

I know this is completely wrong because I know Christ can do all things. And indeed, He did with Jairus’ daughter.

Hearing this, Jesus said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”…he took her by the hand and said, “My child, get up!” Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up. ~Luke 8:50, 54

With one touch, Jesus raises the dead. With one sentence, He breathes new life into relationships.

So I don’t give up on prayer, but I give my prayers up to the throne of God, to the One who asks us to always pray and not lose heart.

We can’t always talk to people about God, but we can always talk to God about people. Don’t underestimate the real mountain-moving, ground-breaking, relationship-changing work your prayers can do to water cracked deserts, chisel granite hearts, and bridge broken relationships.

It is never too late for Jesus to move. Nothing is too far gone. We may not see healing at work on this earth, but we trust the Healer at work.

No, my broken relationship doesn’t look different, but my heart does – if only a little. It sees a new picture, one changing from hope-gone to Hope-dawn.”

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800px-Keji_sunrise_treesI love to awaken before the rest of my family is up.

This is especially true in the summer time, when the windows are opened.

The house is so very quiet.

The only sounds are the sounds of my computer keys clicking as I start my day with God, through the ends of my fingertips, as my soul gets poured out in the daily reminder that it truly is a wonder-filled life.

But, in the summer my morning quiet time is less quiet, but even more wonder-filled.

The dawn chorus of many birds sing through the open windows.

I hear the crazy neighborhood woodpecker, who keeps mistaking the metal lamp standard for wood.

I hear the bark of one dog, leading to a frenzied conversation between all dogs withing hearing distance of each other.

On the rare morning the nearby coyotes call out their morning song.

And then there is the sun, something that is a rare sight during the winter months, but one that we see almost daily in the summer. Some mornings it’s brilliance through the trees beckons me to emerge from my house, and stand in wonder as it peeks from behind every tower in it’s path.

And the sun illuminates the magical creations of the spiders, webs edged in dew …

the brilliance of the colors of the flowers in my garden …

the vivid greens of the grass and leaves.

And I am drawn in to the creation

which draws me to the Creator

it truly is

a wonder-filled life!

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Well ‘it’ arrived in the mail last week, heralding in summer in a manner similar to the arrival of mosquitoes.

The ‘it’ I speak of is the reminder that ‘it is time to be done.’ No, not the time to spay or neuter your beasty (and I am referring to the canine variety of beast, not the one you are married to).

It is time to have an annual mammogram.

So, appointment made, I thought I would re-visit my post about the first mammogram I was beckoned to appear (and I mean appear) at.

Give it a read,

have a couple of giggles,

then,

if it is ‘time to be done’

(or maybe it was time quite a while ago),

make an appointment …

it could save a life …

yours.

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Mammo-What? Part 1 Anticipation

I really do not mind having birthdays. I do not even mind the number of birthdays that I have had. Heck, I am not even that upset about my mid-life body (it wasn’t that great in my twenties, and I am more physically active now, so it’s actually on an upward trend … which is humerus, since most of my body parts are on a downward trend …).

What I am not excited about is the invasion of medical tests on my body just because it is over forty!

All of a sudden, my optometrist checks for things like cataracts, and the need for bifocals. My dentist is on the search for recessing gums. And, when I went for that annual ‘woman’ appointment (which I last had done … hum, five years ago), the delightful, cheery, youthful nurse (grrr!) says, “oh, you are forty-two … did you know that women over forty are recommended to have a mammogram every two years?’ Now, how would I know that, I’m only thirty-nine, with three years experience?

So today, like an inmate on death row, heading to the guillotine, I will go to my very first mammogram …

When I got the appointment, I told my hubby that I was going to blog about it, and he said, “you’re not?” And his shocked, astounded, unbelieving question cinched it 😉 (oh, the life of the woman who likes to shock her husband), so, here is the fruit of his amazement!

So, as I have been planning and preparing (mentally) for this appointment, I have been having flashbacks (not hot flashes … that is still to come … and when they do, I will probably blog about them) and nightmares.

The flashbacks have been to those mass emails about mammograms … that are ‘supposed’ to be funny. Come to think of it, they were funny … when I was too young to need to have one! Now their ‘humorous’ messages, make me feel sick to my stomach. Stories of having your ‘girls’ moved and molded like silly putty, between two cold, hard paddles of metal. Moving my ‘twin peeks’ into positions and for lengths of time that God Almighty NEVER intended them to be. I am feeling palpitations of Nascar speeds in my heart just thinking about it! What if, like my mom used to say about making funny faces behind people’s backs, that my bodacious tatas get so squeezed and twisted that they stay that way forever! What if my ‘hi beams’ become ‘low beams’?

Then there’s the nightmares … they are pretty much the same as the flashbacks, but at night, and more sweating is involved (and hubby is not involved in the sweating, other than him dialing 911, because he thinks I am having a heart attack, or seizure or that I’ve lost it … mentally … which, I have to say, I think maybe I am).

But, I am woman … and I will ‘suck it up’ because that is what we women do.

This, although unpleasant, is something that provides detection that women in years past would have, and did, die for.

So ladies (and sensitive male readers, who really do want to know what a woman thinks about the realities of her life), check back tomorrow, for the continuing saga of Mammo-What?

This must be done, and it could be worse …

I could be a man going to an appointment for a ‘digital’ check-up!

Mammo What Part 2 The Main Squeeze

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