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Archive for the ‘WONDER’ Category

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It’s that time of year again … exam time!

ae85c17eda2d3c8bc0cb18388a4075c3Either you, or someone in your life has just finished, just started, about to start or is in the midst of exam season.

It causes stress, manifested in a variety of ways …

anger or tears,
insatiable or absence of an appetite,
sweating or freezing,
insomnia or exhaustion.

The one thing that all exams do is bring to the surface … stress.

For some there is so much riding on the exam … perhaps whether they pass or fail, whether they get that job promotion, or raise, whether they can move on in their studies or not.

3cb8ea67646ee947903be47ac2843dc1For some the risk of the exam is minimal (other than the physical and emotional stress received simply from having to write it).

I have watched students walk into an exam room looking as though they are walking to their own executions. I have observed the laying out of pens, pencils, erasers and calculator more methodically than the steps in disarming a bomb. I have watched the twisting and turning of hair, tongue and entire face as though possessed in a Poltergeist fashion.

They fret, they fear and the f-word that is most dreadful to them is failure.

I often wonder if we called an exam a quiz, would students perform better on it? They do have a very distinct way of viewing the importance of a quiz, a test and an exam.

My greatest memory of exam time was that if our marks were above a certain mark we did not have to write the final, whole year, exam. Let me tell you, that motivated me to keep my marks up all year long. As a student with not great retention of information that I would file as “will never use again in my life,” I was determined to avoid having to write finals (the mid-term exams which were not exempt-able, were enough to convince me to study).

Really we need to remember that it is just an exam. An imperfect, often inaccurate tool of assessment of learned materials. The most important assessment tool is life. I guess we could say it is not how we did on the exam, it is how we did handling the pressure as we prepared for and wrote it.

And soon, if not already, they will be done 😉

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As I watched the video below, I pondered the people who I pass in the hallways of the high school I work at each day.

What are they carrying?

How heavy, or light, is their load?

How are we able to keep going with the weight of what we each carry?

At what point does the weight of what we have packed within us, upon us, start to outweigh our ability to keep going?

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Hum, as I re-read the questions above, I just realized that my questions went from being about ‘they’ and ‘them’ to ‘we’ and ‘us’ …

Our human condition is such that we all live in a broken world, in broken bodies, in broken minds and abilities and so we share the weight of imperfect, unplanned, sin-filled lives, in a sin-filled world. It is here that we can all meet around the table, and have something to add to the subject of the sorrow in our suitcases.

Many of us have quoted the verse “God will not give you more than you can handle” (1 Corinthians 10:13), and responded with, “I just wish He did not trust me with so much.”

There have been times when I’ve wondered of myself, at what point does the bending lead to breaking? Will the stress and anxiety of today manifest through :

a disease?
a mental break?
sweating drops of blood?

There is one thing I know, it will not affect my love for, or my relationship with my God, my Heavenly Father. That is, He is, the Rock I stand on, and my footing is always secure with Him. He is the one who carries my suitcase full of brokenness … hurt, disappointment, shame, sorrow, and more.

He is the one who tells me to “cast (hand over) ALL of my cares (my suitcase full of sorrows) on Him” (1 Peter 5:7, Psalm 55:22).

The passage in Peter says, “… because He cares for you.”

The passage in Psalms says, “… and He will sustain you, He will never let the righteous be shaken.”

I cannot say I am always confident about the “shaken” part, because I have certainly felt shaken. But maybe that shaking comes not from my feet, which are on firm footing, but from my heart and my head that rely so on each other, rather than on the foundation beneath my feet …

It reminds me of the Footprints poem :

“One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonging to me and one to my Lord.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life,
especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it.
“Lord, you said once I decided to follow you,
You’d walk with me all the way.
But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life,
there was only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”

He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you.”

He carries not just our suitcase of sorrows, He also carries us.

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In our society today (and I expect in any society, at any time in history) there is an unwritten hierarchy of jobs and professions.

Of course the job of a doctor is more essential to our society than that of a garbage collector … until those garbage collectors go on strike, and garbage builds up in the streets, and rats are present in large numbers in our cities, and diseases begin to fun rampant.

Or that of a school administrator is more important than that of a school’s administrative assistant … what am I saying, everyone knows that those who work in the front offices of schools are the ones who really run the schools 😉 .

C.S. Lewis said,
“I reject at one and idea which lingers in the mind of some modern people that cultural activities are in their own right spiritual and meritorious-as though scholars and poets were intrinsically more pleasing to God than scavengers and boot lacks (shoe shiners).

… The work of Beethoven and the work of a charwoman (cleaning woman) become spiritual on precisely the same condition, that of being offered to God, of being done humbly ‘as to the Lord,’ ”
(The Weight of Glory)

What is it that makes us prioritize one person’s profession over that of another? What is it that makes one person’s job ‘essential’ and another simply supplementary to that more important role?

It makes me think of the scripture from 1 Corinthians 12:12-27 :

“Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.

Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.
If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.”

Each person has a job, like each part of our body has a role to play. One only needs to stub their toe, a part often ignored, to realize how very important that toe is to our balance and our walk. The key is not the value of one profession or job over another, the key is who we are doing the job for, and the effort we are investing in the accomplishing of it.

As I was writing this post, I was listening to Chuck Swindoll speaking on Joshua. He spoke of years ago watching a television broadcast of a Presidential address from Ronald Reagan and how he heard little of what the President said, because he was trying to make out the words on a brass plaque on the President’s desk. The next day his secretary was able to contact the White House and uncover the words :

“There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go
if he does not mind who gets the credit.”

(Charles Edward Montague, English novelist and essayist)

Although those words deliver a good message, I would choose to re-write it, integrating into it the words of C. S. Lewis, as follows:

“There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go
if he will offer it to God, doing it all humbly ‘as to the Lord.”

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Not all agonies are ones that can be shared during a church service, or even a small group meeting. Sure, we can request prayers for those grieving the death of one they loved, or people facing surgeries or disease, we can request prayer when we are searching a new job, or even for a pet who has gone missing, but often the things that rip at our souls are never shared with others, only with our God.

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We might never share those heartaches, but they are so very real.

We cry our tears freely into the depths of the night, and then powder our faces so as to put one foot in front of the other the following morning.

We pour out our broken offerings in the quiet of the night, as we cry out our query from the words of Isaiah (55:10) “if your word does not return to you void, what word did you whisper in my ear?”

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

And we stop, and listen … because those words that our ears heard, our mind, heart and soul cannot imagine that they have truly been said to us. But, again, we hear them …

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

And the tears continue to fall, and the heart continues to ache, but the soul is quieting, because we have heard,

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

We have heard it, and we know that through those words our Creator is with us, seeking us, pursuing us, as a lover seeking his beloved.

The ache is still there, and inside is shaking like that tree out into the dark of the night. Why is that tree swaying as if being controlled by vicious gusts of wind? It is, after all, a still and quiet night? The tall pines and cedars do not shake and sway. It is as though there is a breeze that can only move the weak, the fragile …

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

Do the strong hear those words? Do the powerful hear those words?

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

Or are those words the strength that makes the weak brave enough to shake, to sway, to move?

Is that tree, that one tree among dozens of still and silent trees, a picture of our advocate? Of the One who speaks to the Father on our behalf? Is that fragile tree the metaphorical equal of our faithful prayer group, who is the wind underneath of our weakened arms, whispering to our souls …

I have loved you with an everlasting love …

 

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When it comes to the end of the school year, I thought I was the worst mom, and I thought that I alone held that title (and there still might be a few teachers of our kids, past or present, who would still ‘amen’ my self-declaration).

Last week I was introduced to another blogger, and through her blog post, and the conversations with others who giggled and sighed through reading it, I have discovered that I am SO not alone!

For parents with school-aged kids this time of year is truly the storm before the summer calm. Personally I am counting the days that my son has left of band classes … forever (he and I are ridiculously irresponsible when it comes to his practicing and my signing the practice records)! Bed times have stretched much later into the nights, resulting in great struggles awakening the gang in the mornings. End of school year events are viewed more as ‘have to go’ than ‘get to go’ events. Homework … well, I think Jen Hatmaker says it best.

Jen is a a gifted writer, a speaker, a wife, a mom of five kids, and a woman with a heart for God. I am looking forward to getting to know her better through her blog, now that I have subscribed to it. I certainly know that when it comes to how I feel at this point in the school year, as a mom, she is a kindred spirit … and she even gave me a chance to laugh!

tft-june“You know the Beginning of School Enthusiasm? When the pencils are fresh and the notebooks are new and the kids’ backpacks don’t look like they lined the den of a pack of filthy hyenas? Moms, remember how you packed innovative and nutritional lunches and laid clothes out the night before and labeled shelves for each child’s work and school correspondence and completed homework in a timely manner?
 
I am exactly still like that at the end of school, except the opposite.
 
We are limping, limping across the finish line, folks. I tapped out somewhere in April and at this point, it is a miracle my kids are still even going to school. I haven’t checked homework folders in three weeks, because, well, I just can’t. Cannot. Can. Not. I can’t look at the homework in the folder. Is there homework in the folder? I don’t even know. Are other moms still looking in the homework folder? I don’t even care.”

And there is more folks! Please keep reading Worst End of School Year Mom Ever, and if you too have school-aged kids you will love the camaraderie that this post provides.

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Well, here I am, at month eleven of my weight loss blog … and it has been three months since I updated my own ‘progress.’

Sigh …d999b4880f53376b2d4549f2a2fac09a-1

Well, at Christmas time I was down twenty-four pounds, and feeling like I could take on the world! Then the New Year rang in, and the scale did not move … at all … despite good efforts! Sadly, when it did start moving, it was moving in the wrong direction. From the beginning of February until today, I have gained back eleven pounds 😦

Ugh!

But worse than gaining those hard fought-off pounds back, is the reality that my head (the most important part of the weight loss process) simply does not even give a rip! I have reached a new low … weight and health related apathy.

Obviously I cannot continue as I have been, so I did the most motivating thing I knew … I re-read the posts that got myself motivated in the first place.

It was in my post, The Fat Came Back, where I shared the event that made me face the hard reality that I had lost my way, lost my focus, and gained previously lost weight back.

The following were my original goals:

* get weighed every Friday, and only on Friday
(I tend to be addicted to the scales, when trying to lose weight, and I need to work on my obsessive compulsiveness)

* use”My Fitness Pal” app on my phone (or website My Fitness Pal)
(this is NOT an advertisement for the app. I have used it before, and it is an easy way for me to know, not just the calories, but also the nutritional values of the foods I eat. When I use it, I find I will look at the minuscule package of ‘healthy’ cookies for 100 calories, and a large fresh apple for the same, and when I see the nutritional values of each, I make better choices for the health of my body, and not just counting calories).

* walking
(still three bigger (one hour or more) walks each week, preferably on my favorite trail, but added to that, one twenty minute walk each day. The beast is starting to show signs of middle age spread … just don’t tell her I told you, and she could use this too)

* abdominal exercise
(I am still not sure what shape these exercises will eventually take, but my bowl full of jelly must be reigned in. I am starting with twenty-five crunches a morning … before coffee … I need to have incentive)

* accountability
(I am planning one letting it all hang out with you, the reader … heck, I’ve been letting it all hang out visually for all around me for

These are good goals, doable goals, and they are the ones I am returning to, not next month, not next week, but today.

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As I snuggled down into the suds of the bath water, ready for a few moments of peace and relaxation to end the day, I heard the following words from the radio broadcast playing from the bathroom counter top :

” … my word that goes out from my mouth will not return to me empty …”

And with those words, the endless to do list in my head dissolved, and my brain became preoccupied with those words, and the depth of their meaning.

If you, like me, have ever had opportunity to share the word of God with another person you will understand that horrifically dreadful feeling when we think that we failed miserably in our execution of sharing of God’s word.

Being married to one who preaches from the Word of God on a regular basis, I have certainly have heard the words, after returning home from a Sunday church service, “I blew it” from hubby.

But this passage would indicate that those words, that feeling of the failure of good delivery of the most important message on Earth, are always safely executed, because God himself has ordained that His word will always be heard. It would seem that, perhaps, the mystical nature of God’s word is such that once it is expressed through the lips of man, it travels into the ears of others through the direct leading of God himself.

This confirms to us that God’s word is His, from beginning to end, from first breath until the last word is heard by another’s ear.

We cannot ruin the delivery of the word of God … it is His, never ours, and it is in His best interest that it is heard … and He even ensure that.

“So, whoever speaks my words,no matter how freaking ridiculously poor,
they are still My words,
and they will reach the ears of the one who I decree should hear them.
Imagine how fantastic an author I am 😉 “
The Carole Wheaton version of Isaiah 55:10

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The problem started as soon as Matthew met Mary, with the mixture of misery and magic in their first glance at one another. I knew I was hooked to Downton Abbey!bea8241d69aa1722594fd55315b47889

I tried to start slowly, not allowing myself to be taken in by the ridiculousness of ‘needing’ to watch each episode. I tried to resist identifying with every character from Lady Mary Crawley, to her mother Countess Cora Crawley, to housemaid Anna Smith-Bates, to even Violet, the Dowager Countess of Grantham. I tried to pace myself …

But, alas, I was snookered into falling in love with the characters, the countryside, the grand estates, the lovely white Labrador Isis, the amazing costuming, and the language … I simply squeal with delight at the clever, sarcastic, yet proper conversations and lines.

3624c62560ee1e0f04f4e51c514c4d1cWhat started as a desire to watch an episode or two a week, turned into my having viewed the entire first season in less than one week!

Then I was reminded why addictions are bad … I could not find another online way to view season two … for free (Scottish heritage can overtake almost any addiction)! Now I really had a problem, because I just had to know how the ends left hanging from season one would be tied neatly up again. So, I bit my Scottish pride, and purchased the first episode of season two ($2.99! Highway robbery!)

Well, I just knew that I needed to see the rest of that season, and it was not falling freely from the clouds, so I headed to the library and ordered both season two and three. What I did not know was how long it would take for them to become free …

489e8977b2641566cf071b785df2a047I put my request in the first week of March, and only got my copy on the 24th of May! And it was not season two, but season three. Apparently there were still thirty-four people ahead of me for season two! I wanted to cry! I had what I wanted, but it was wrong to skip a season, if I were to truly enjoy the program.

As I complained bitterly to hubby, he said, “didn’t I tell you I found both seasons online … for free?” Yikes! It is a good thing that I needed his assistance to view the show, otherwise that poor man might have been beaten up by a Downton Abbey-starved woman!

70b6b64e0daed122fe7a90972dcafbaeSo, season two was viewed partially on a Saturday night, and the remainder on Sunday afternoon.

Season three (the library version) was started after work on a Monday, and soon to be completed.

I am already in a state of misery, as those characters have become friends, and Downton has become like a home to me. I surely will not find peace until I locate season 4, but then what? I will need to wait until the new season begins, and how long three months seems right now, having watched two seasons in less than one week!

This is the very reason addiction is not a good thing! That show has nabbed me, hook, line and sinker, I love it, I am in misery … woe is me.

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There are many important jobs in our world. To work in health care, education, religion, emergency responding and peacekeeping are among the first to pop into my mind. The most important job in the world is none and yet all of these. It is one that all of us, and yet few of us has the pressure and the privilege of fulfilling. It is the job of homemaker.

A more unappreciated job there could not be. In our society today, to be a homemaker is to not have a job, to not have motivation, to not have purpose. And yet it is a job which makes the fulfilling of all other tasks easier, more efficient, more purposeful.

To be a homemaker is to run, and manage, a house and household, often with few resources, little training and no down time. It is to awaken each morning ready to run, for the plans you took to bed to be upset, to probably not rest again until the end of the day when your feet slide back between the sheets. To be a homemaker is to have work clothes that range from grubby denims with holes (ones not made by the denim label, but ones that were ripped inadvertently), to our Sunday best.

A homemaker is one who may spend his or her days patching injured knees to patching holes in someone’s favorite t-shirt to patching holes in walls. A homemaker is one who may spend his or her days scraping hardened egg of breakfast plates, to scraping vomit off carpet to scraping old paint before adding a fresh coat. A homemaker is one who may spend his or her days making meals, making the lives of others in the home smoother, and making ends meet.

The most difficult task of a homemaker is living in a community, a society in which this important job is minimized, disrespected and disregarded.

Although it has been a few years (about ten) since I last proudly claimed to hold the position of homemaker, I still consider it the most important job I never got paid for, and yet the benefits package was the best I have ever encountered.

To all those who call themselves homemakers (and especially to the ones fulfilling that task with preschoolers in tow), I applaud you, and the valuable contribution to those around you, and especially to your children to whom benefit the greatest.

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What is an adventurous life?42e52062bb6e070f099f7b7f3f7b2bb3

As summer is approaching, as plans are made for vacations, for lazy summer days, for parties, for barbecues, for trips and activities, do we plan adventures too?

Do we make plans for our summers that make our hearts race? That make our pupils dilate? That make our palms sweat? That make the moisture in our mouths dry, and a lump form in our throats. Do we make plans for our summers that thrill and excite us, providing us with stories to tell when we return to our jobs, our schools when the play time is done?

When I found the quote to the right I immediately thought of my summer break, and those words made me question how I would define an adventurous life.

Those words made me think of bucket list goals of jumping out of a plane, or climbing a mountain (with bear spray in my pocket), or swimming with whales. Those bucket list items were more prevalent before I was a mom (not that I wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to do them).

Since becoming a mom, an adventurous life looks different to me.

Now being adventurous is going to every SciFi movie that hits the big screen, or going on a mother-daughter road trip with my daughter, her friend and that friend’s mom, or teaching my teen how to drive. It is learning to sleep even if the chickies are not all home yet. It is wading through the chemistry of hormones and attractions to the opposite sex. It is sitting down to discuss my child’s academic progress at a parent-teacher conference. It is wiping teary eyes, letting them make their own mistakes, and biting my tongue (how I have bitten my tongue!).

It is in and through my kids that I have risked the most, been stripped of all I thought I was, and felt the real rush of adventure. It is in and through my kids that I desire most to leave a little piece of myself behind.

And so, as I plan for adventure this summer, I know it will have more to do with simply living life, having mine intertwine with the hearts and souls of those three who I long most to experience the thrill of doing life with each and every day. That is the ultimate in risk and adventure.

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