tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27375649082095471892024-02-19T09:46:04.334-05:00LET US REJOICE!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger462125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-14127020883304702542012-04-20T09:35:00.000-04:002012-04-21T17:58:48.521-04:00Without Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"The first thing to do when you awake is to open the windows of your soul."<br />
~Dom Lorenzo Sculpi<br />
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I was in my chair this morning about to say my prayers, and I found myself drawn to the stillness of the day. I just sat, blankly looking out the window, when my eye caught the dew trapped in an intricate spider web. The beauty of the web, something about the anticipation of quiet hopeful waiting, refreshed my spirit. I realized that sometimes the loudest prayers are without words, and that God often speaks to me in silence. Today I will try to talk less and listen more. Only that which is empty is capable of being filled.<br />
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Early Morning Science~ Waking up to a praying mantis case opening:<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-87299159033792971922012-02-23T18:26:00.000-05:002012-02-23T18:26:16.631-05:00What To Do With Rejection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfrouLaE6yh2-fFR-j7j7sGMZvny5vZ-6EqkpZ9kR3OAfwnzUgnmu9Py8FhhpVbu45RNHfC_f8Mh67IuW_M5RcUzyA6DZMGyy_Dx8XTXIMPbNJShZqBQYB4sTekqA_6AzSiAE5ikC_WQ/s1600/DSCN3835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfrouLaE6yh2-fFR-j7j7sGMZvny5vZ-6EqkpZ9kR3OAfwnzUgnmu9Py8FhhpVbu45RNHfC_f8Mh67IuW_M5RcUzyA6DZMGyy_Dx8XTXIMPbNJShZqBQYB4sTekqA_6AzSiAE5ikC_WQ/s640/DSCN3835.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Lent is upon us, and I am reading some of the writings of Henri Nouwen. Here is one of his profound thoughts regarding a possible Lenten practice:<br />
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<em>I have slowly become aware of what my Lenten practice might be. It might be the development of some type of "holy indifference" toward the many small rejections I am subject to, and a growing attachment to the Lord and his passion.</em><br />
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<em>I am constantly surprised at how hard it is for me to deal with the little rejections people inflict on each other day by day...This atmosphere often leaves me with a feeling of being rejected and left alone. When I swallow these rejections, I get quickly depressed and lonely; then I am in danger of becoming resentful...</em><br />
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<em>But maybe all of this is the other side of a deep mystery, the mystery that we have no lasting dwelling place on this earth and that only God loves us the way we desire to be loved. Maybe all these small rejections are reminders that I am a traveler on the way to a sacred place where God holds me in the palm of his hand.</em><br />
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<em>(excerpted from "Gracias: A Latin-American Journal")</em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Ben Smithdeal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Ben Smithdeal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Ben Smithdeal</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-38625333661423092122012-02-21T18:10:00.000-05:002012-02-21T18:10:04.794-05:00The Value of Tradition in Family Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuOvCXa_GaSfRsRGdTj29lhK9ayeOOoGJMLHS2A6_o8wjhhKKgae_TVf7I8UYUrrnsW_F3BCDfrsbev9QwE1MXwCAhWjcSoZN8iiH8qUG9Y5ium_jj75-r_xQmLCRUX8Ch23etLmQ1jY/s1600/DSCN3819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuOvCXa_GaSfRsRGdTj29lhK9ayeOOoGJMLHS2A6_o8wjhhKKgae_TVf7I8UYUrrnsW_F3BCDfrsbev9QwE1MXwCAhWjcSoZN8iiH8qUG9Y5ium_jj75-r_xQmLCRUX8Ch23etLmQ1jY/s640/DSCN3819.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">"Every heart that has beat strong and cheerfully has left a hopeful impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the tradtion of mankind."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">~Robert Louis Stevenson</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am indebted to generations of family that have passed on our heritage and traditions, and with each passing year, I am more and more appreciative of the legacy entrusted to me. Tradition is a gift to be passed on to my children; and while it truly is a gift, it is also their birthright, an integral part of their identity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Sometimes the passing on of tradition can be hard work and all too easily tossed aside in our ever- busy lives. But it is tradition that glues a family together and causes us too look back on days filled with special memories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Today we made Fasnachts, a kind of donut made by the Pennsylvania dutch the day before Lent. Both of my parents grew up near Lancaster county where the custom of making Fasnachts originated. Only one of my grandparents is actually Pennsylvania dutch, the others are all of Irish descent. I just know that my mother has made Fasnachts as far back as I can remember, and I have continued the tradition with my own children.</span><br />
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I read something by Thomas Merton that has been stewing in my mind the last couple of days: <br />
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"Lent is not a season of punishment, so much a s a season of healing."<br />
(From : <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lent-Easter-Wisdom-Thomas-Merton/dp/076481558X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1329865742&sr=8-1">Lent and Easter Wisdom From Thomas Merton</a>, p.2)<br />
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Of course, that does not mean we should not deny ourselves more than usual during Lent, however, the focus should be on what we can add to our lives that will bring about healing and peace not only to ourselves, but to those around us.<br />
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Perhaps beginning a few traditions this Lent may be one way to bring family members together? Traditions are like habits; at first they are hard to get used to, but after a while you don't know how you lived without them! <br />
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I pray you have a blesed and peaceful Lent; may this season bear much fruit in your lives!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynq6D-Z-04lCu5G2Jca71xwq0P_HBw_U08sXFbI4sNjA_T8UiWZnzvA7V0V9t4xMFITXZLe3cLVsJR5jq9VBs1rLdlkJmEYHis4UhZbzpmlJCVPkEHRxNgdv2MUgaKu2GsLWMFFQBxnI/s1600/DSCN3809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynq6D-Z-04lCu5G2Jca71xwq0P_HBw_U08sXFbI4sNjA_T8UiWZnzvA7V0V9t4xMFITXZLe3cLVsJR5jq9VBs1rLdlkJmEYHis4UhZbzpmlJCVPkEHRxNgdv2MUgaKu2GsLWMFFQBxnI/s640/DSCN3809.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-80669952666554109152012-02-20T12:38:00.000-05:002012-02-20T12:38:27.725-05:00Sometimes It's Only A Whisper<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxkG5xqH1tI_rJ_RHiXF-yVo801VOkM4uJD-7OuF-Y7KC8OOQLWxFBRbzK-0qddPwqXylSJ-5n-d9QTDNizPF7-TD7pzVfLFK52ldU0rfaL1mIyojd1Hxh4kQL3g8JjX3ezQ5RIChh2U/s1600/DSCN3702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxkG5xqH1tI_rJ_RHiXF-yVo801VOkM4uJD-7OuF-Y7KC8OOQLWxFBRbzK-0qddPwqXylSJ-5n-d9QTDNizPF7-TD7pzVfLFK52ldU0rfaL1mIyojd1Hxh4kQL3g8JjX3ezQ5RIChh2U/s640/DSCN3702.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
We awoke this morning to a winter wonderland, and it would be impossible to miss the beauty of the day. <br />
I have been thinking a lot about 'beauty' lately.<br />
I've been thinking how discovering and cherishing beauty in our lives has everything to do with gratefulness.<br />
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When I look for the lovely, my gaze is drawn outside of myself to the creator of all; I am no longer focused on my own needs and shortcomings. For brief moments, I am made whole. <br />
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John O'Donohue, in his book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Beauty-Invisible-Embrace-John-ODonohue/dp/0060957263/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1329756755&sr=8-3">Beauty,</a> writes: <br />
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<em>Yet beauty's visitation affects us and invites us into its rhythm, it calls us to feel, think and act beautifully in the world: to create and live a life that awakens the Beautiful. A life without delight is only half a life. Lest this be construed as a plea for decadence or a self-indulgence that is blind to the horrors of the world, we should remember that beauty does not restrict its visitations only to those whom fortune or circumstances favor. Indeed, it is often the whispers and glimpses of beauty which enable people to endure on desperate frontiers. Even, and perhaps especially, in the bleakest times, we can still discover and awaken beauty; these are precisely the times when we need it most.</em><br />
<em>(pg 13)</em><br />
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I recently finished reading the amazing biography of Corrie Ten Boom , <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hiding-Place-John-Sherrill/dp/0800794052/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1329757205&sr=8-1">The Hiding Place.</a> Incidentally, it is the only book I have ever seen on Amazon to get only four and five star reviews! The life of the Ten Boom family is an incredible testimony of faith and bravery. Corrie and her family members spent several years in a Nazi concentration camp. They were guilty of hiding and aiding Jews during the Holocaust.<br />
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At one point, due to a blood- producing cough, Corrie was placed in solitary confinement. Cold, alone, and shut up in a squalid dank cell, she had little to be thankful for. But Corrie always seemed to find solace and faith in what beauty there was.<br />
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She writes:<br />
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<em> In only one way was this new cell an improvement over the first one. It had a window. Seven iron bars ran across it, four bars up and down. It was high in the wall, much too high to look out of, but through those twenty-eight squares I could see the sky.</em><br />
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<em>All day I kept my eyes fixed on that bit of heaven. Sometimes clouds moved across the squares, white or pink or edged with gold, and when the wind was from the west I could hear the sea. Best of all, for nearly an hour each day, gradually lengthening as the spring sun rose higher, a shaft of checkered light streamed into the dark little room. As the weather turned warmer and I grew stronger I would stand up to catch the sunshine on my face and chest, moving along the wall with the moving light, climbing at last onto the cot to stand on tiptoe in the final rays.</em><br />
<em>(p 139)</em><br />
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Beauty does not always shout. We must sometimes strain to hear her voice amidst the discordant banging and clatter of life. But one thing is certain: behind the faintest whisper, she is always there, echoing the voice of our loving creator.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MFgWo12pSjp6T8mW43QigN0o8qxqhdYwUYflPxLpgHPNedRbW82a5lQ3fcivZCH7Uo5URjj4v45y111gHp7MIhVep61wBmLWq6wBvyaFeg3DbGdWNBETgmIEcSRhAY5YgDOMpHNRaCQ/s1600/RSCN3743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MFgWo12pSjp6T8mW43QigN0o8qxqhdYwUYflPxLpgHPNedRbW82a5lQ3fcivZCH7Uo5URjj4v45y111gHp7MIhVep61wBmLWq6wBvyaFeg3DbGdWNBETgmIEcSRhAY5YgDOMpHNRaCQ/s640/RSCN3743.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-27689498462473326072012-02-16T16:45:00.000-05:002012-02-16T16:45:01.007-05:00Cups Overflowing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbO0ROCbkUkqfG9ZwtImQT7pS_SLxOzEldqNi0KtX48obwssIE5FBElWW0_FdcUm13CWTuKw52PUk0P2R7EAG-eeAWermpZWBHfxdjSAJcksKlnMXhSWF3QIJ8XMUUZAcYZ5eQuDcz5F4/s1600/DSCN3638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbO0ROCbkUkqfG9ZwtImQT7pS_SLxOzEldqNi0KtX48obwssIE5FBElWW0_FdcUm13CWTuKw52PUk0P2R7EAG-eeAWermpZWBHfxdjSAJcksKlnMXhSWF3QIJ8XMUUZAcYZ5eQuDcz5F4/s640/DSCN3638.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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"Look at all the mugs!," my friend said as she looked about my messy kitchen. It was true; mugs littered every surface. There must have been forty mugs out, and it was only 1:00. Right then and there I made a decision, quickly followed by a proclamation:<br />
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"That's it! Each person gets one mug. One! And I'm dealing with this right now!"<br />
As I frantically searched for a box to put mugs in, Ami explained how she invested in dish sets, a color for each family member. I liked the idea, but I didn't want to go out and buy new mugs. So I assigned each child a mug from the ones we already had and packed up all of the other ones.<br />
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The first three days of our new "mug system," I became the cup Nazi.<br />
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"That's not your mug. Where is your cup?"<br />
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"Dad used it for his coffee."<br />
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"Travis, this is your mug. You have to use it! And you're not allowed to use the kids' mugs!!"<br />
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And you know what? I now have a wonderful husband who is also using an assigned mug!! <br />
..Now, if I could just remember to use my mug!!!<br />
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All the dither about mugs and an abundance of children, the desire to serve seeming to clash with the need to simplify had me stymied.<br />
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My mind is crowded with cups and abundance- the overflow of cups in my life that I continually try to fill, the longing to do it all, feel it all, be it all, when ....<br />
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<strong>when only one cup is necessary.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I need to live my life with one mug. It's that simple. If I hold out my cup each morning and ask God to fill it, he will. He will never leave my cup empty.</span></span></strong><br />
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Yes, surely "my cup overflows." (psalm 23:5) And yours will too, if only you allow him to fill it for you.<br />
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And when I allow him to fill my one cup, I find that the other cups are no longer needed....<br />
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"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."<br />
~Matthew 6:33<br />
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A family walk on a warm February day...<br />
Hunting for treasure, hiding in camouflage...<br />
And one day, hopefully, they will know that the real treasure found on that day was each other...<br />
The gift of shared memories and God-painted canvas forever etched...<br />
And knowing that despite the daily grind of life...bickerings..and working things out...<br />
they had what was most important.<br />
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Can you find Sam?<br />
He bought a ghillie suit with his birthday money...<br />
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The prize.....<br />
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<strong><em>"Hail, Mary, full of grace!".....</em></strong><br />
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And she was and is full of grace, because Mary's whole life was an affirmation of God- who he is and what he was doing in her life. Her very being, her soul, "proclaim(ed) the greatness of the Lord." (Luke 1:46)<br />
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When we strive to be God-filled rather than self-filled we, like Mary, affirm the 'greatness' of God and allow his grace into our lives.<br />
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I recently read a passage written by Father Joseph Payne, which expresses this thought so clearly:<br />
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<strong><em>We are good and lovely and dedicated because God has loved us and we have had the grace to respond to that love. We spend our lives responding to love, living "in answer" to a greater love that calls to us.</em></strong><br />
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<strong><em>Everything, then, is grace. Everything is a gift. To the extent that we recognize and celebrate God's gracious love will we be able to respond to God's call and to be gracious both to ourselves and to our neighbors, the other friends of Jesus.</em></strong><br />
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<strong><em>When we fail to celebrate grace and graciousness, we become tough. The pressures of life make us tough with ourselves, and we become tough with each other. Look around you at those who are hard on other people and you will find those who are hard on other people are hard on themselves. When we fail to celebrate grace and graciousness, we become distant- distant from ourselves , distant from God and distant from our neighbor. Look around you at those who are aloof and you will find people who are in some real way aloof from themselves.</em></strong><br />
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<strong><em>In the incarnation, the mystery of God's love became flesh. That love became tangible and visible and believable in Jesus, who came to put an end to all distance.We who believe in Jesus, then, must put an end to all distance. We want to be present the way Jesus was, attuned to people as he was, and fully present to God after his example. We want to stop 'postponing our presence,' stop delaying being fully there with God, with self, with neighbor.</em></strong><br />
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<strong><em>...Jesus did not live a 'muffled' presence-the car muffler silences the sound of its exhaust system. Jesus did not live a 'muted' presence-the mute softens the brilliance of the trumpet. We who follow Jesus dare not live the message of love in muffled and muted fashion. If Jesus was really present, we who believe in Jesus must be really present, or the gospel will be sung by us only in hushed tones.</em></strong><br />
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We must not live in "hushed tones," then. We must live boldly in the fullness and truth of God's magnificence, proclaiming his love and living in the light of his beautiful grace.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LGFRgMODpELfwV1ja2tQ7hRD-WJNWNOPRo112ecys2xdeqiA5HtBL6mEWD-44RppA6_YMCHKczK135QQfefQTuRRo2NXh88_kswXFZIywDaAVFwVzD7XO0BLoyN1ogA7e4YS7uQsMls/s1600/DSCN3298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LGFRgMODpELfwV1ja2tQ7hRD-WJNWNOPRo112ecys2xdeqiA5HtBL6mEWD-44RppA6_YMCHKczK135QQfefQTuRRo2NXh88_kswXFZIywDaAVFwVzD7XO0BLoyN1ogA7e4YS7uQsMls/s640/DSCN3298.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-55302645431311767242011-10-28T10:52:00.002-04:002011-10-28T10:59:42.019-04:00Harvest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQoaGXHUmwDKuWS2to2JHKfN5jOd0N_MKiI4SJ2kbO0VsWwrWQ-24001ueeAFlU-S4MPqeLbDtx5pGtEfpXG0ebahgNeHcep_FRBgAQFQWQ4sP2j45gMuds4V7SdnqycK3jc6ZQHW7k/s1600/DSCN2552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQoaGXHUmwDKuWS2to2JHKfN5jOd0N_MKiI4SJ2kbO0VsWwrWQ-24001ueeAFlU-S4MPqeLbDtx5pGtEfpXG0ebahgNeHcep_FRBgAQFQWQ4sP2j45gMuds4V7SdnqycK3jc6ZQHW7k/s640/DSCN2552.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Bowed heads yield to the burden of time. Earth, her bowels depleted, heaves in surrender to death.<br />
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The naked landscape probes the recesses of my soul. I lie on the ground, furled in the solitude of a barren womb and am stilled by the mystery.<br />
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The mystery, the amazement, the miracle. <br />
<strong><em>The miracle. </em></strong><br />
And isn't that always the miracle? That sterility swells with vitality? That I can lie in wonder on a cold ground, looking up at crumpled ashen flowers and know that they promise life?<br />
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Each one of these Sunflower seeds will grow into a vibrant yellow flower next Summer. Every head is bulging with seeds, crammed with life. <br />
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And that <i><b>is </b></i>the greatest mystery. If God can take a seed from a plant and work this miracle, how much more can He do with an eternal soul? How can we behold such grandeur and <strong><em>not know that we are destined for greatness? </em></strong><br />
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How can we go about our days, taking for granted that day after day, month after month, year after year, the earth will replenish, renew, bear fruit, put forth seed... <strong><em>sustain our very being...</em></strong>yet forget that God is doing the same for us? Our lives are the seeds in a destitute existence...and God is anticipating the harvest.<br />
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<em>Why thus longing, forever sighing for the far off, unattained and dim, while the beautiful, all around thee lying, offers up its low perpetual hymn?</em><br />
<em>Wouldst thou listen to its gentle teaching, all thy restless yearnings it would still; Leaf and flower and laden bee are preaching thine own sphere, though humble first to fill.</em><br />
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<em>~Harriet Winslow Sewall</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-20061882949197401992011-09-26T20:29:00.001-04:002011-09-27T00:02:03.326-04:00Centerpiece<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmCl_W001-TbY1vJ5tKUtFIeI97XE0OXD7AYzlQBxfj2xvrHxZf36xCbjY2bYeKFe7TQhC64xHclwU-LYPFO_ZdV4IT25of9xqVD-05YC7NxwSAgfOQ1tpoHmTTrJIQWFUuTkV4K9uY0/s1600/RSCN1769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmCl_W001-TbY1vJ5tKUtFIeI97XE0OXD7AYzlQBxfj2xvrHxZf36xCbjY2bYeKFe7TQhC64xHclwU-LYPFO_ZdV4IT25of9xqVD-05YC7NxwSAgfOQ1tpoHmTTrJIQWFUuTkV4K9uY0/s640/RSCN1769.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
A few days ago I found this Swallowtail caterpillar on a walk. I placed it in a jar with some parsley and dill, a Swallowtail larva's favorite food.The next day I looked in on my caterpillar and was disappointed to see it curled dead at the bottom of the jar.<br />
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"Oh well," I thought. "It must have been too late in the year for this little guy to make it." For some reason, though, I left the caterpillar, lifeless, at the center of the table. Imagine my surprise a few days later to see a perfectly formed chrysalis at the bottom of the jar!<br />
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I was so excited, I began shouting to the children, to anyone who could hear, that "The caterpillar isn't dead after all! It formed a chrysalis!!! " Oliver said, "Well, Mom, you must have been expecting something to happen; otherwise, why would you have left a dead caterpillar as the centerpiece of our dining room table?"<br />
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Why? Was I hoping? Do I dare to think that I had hope, that I hadn't given up on life?<br />
Why would I leave death to look upon? How could something dry and dead inspire? But that is the mystery for the Christian: death enfolds life. Just when life seems the most bleak, just when you're ready to curl up like that caterpillar at the bottom of the jar...there is victory in the wings.<br />
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You may be ready to call it quits. You may be wondering what it's all for. You may not know the reason for even your own existence. But God's plans for you and for your life are as alive as the caterpillar, lying limp and motionless, awaiting the miracle. Sometimes life breathes fullest in a grave of quiet, lungs heaving in solitude. All seems lost, but with each deep and painful breath God works an amazing transformation that restores life.<br />
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Will you let Him do that? Will you have faith? Can you let what seems dead in your life remain the centerpiece, knowing that He is going to work a miracle far surpassing your expectations?<br />
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"However, as it is written: No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him'--" (1Corinthians 2:9)<br />
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<span class="versetext" id="jer29-11" style="display: inline;"><strong>"</strong>I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster, plans to bring about the future you hope for. " (Jeremiah 29:11)</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXHFxdpN9sGb47a_1cG6BIzuKzzCbY1cifzOmFLp1ktnMvHX5-er5uiHo7TU1e3rZ4ezbDTE8ZADXIj74qN1KNrKxRC8_YpDV9lzKXw9NT2ZjtYhoOBxsnPPXBNfbKLKlXUAgYLirou0/s1600/RSCN1916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXHFxdpN9sGb47a_1cG6BIzuKzzCbY1cifzOmFLp1ktnMvHX5-er5uiHo7TU1e3rZ4ezbDTE8ZADXIj74qN1KNrKxRC8_YpDV9lzKXw9NT2ZjtYhoOBxsnPPXBNfbKLKlXUAgYLirou0/s640/RSCN1916.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-45632305881701521892011-09-23T00:39:00.000-04:002011-09-23T00:39:05.454-04:00Rooted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWK2GDI1FHb-iHytT9nYQ1E4HNXtDgWzyDEOWOjTBlovPcELem32mQ32HyWv-8zRei-6rlHUaiNDGux-E8dvwZj3aGRktaRRa8kVGMjXrZVTvNLX0UXOuSAGjBOmxHpb1L355LSjmebuc/s1600/DSCN1795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWK2GDI1FHb-iHytT9nYQ1E4HNXtDgWzyDEOWOjTBlovPcELem32mQ32HyWv-8zRei-6rlHUaiNDGux-E8dvwZj3aGRktaRRa8kVGMjXrZVTvNLX0UXOuSAGjBOmxHpb1L355LSjmebuc/s640/DSCN1795.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Roots dig deep and plummet depths of a dry earth. Searching..always searching. Growing and groping their way to that life-sustaining current running through the ground: water. Life. Twisting into the earth, they suck the water like giant straws, carrying the water to the very tops of the tree's branches, reaching to the farthest leaves. No leaf is left dry.<br />
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Roots dig deep and clutch earth, their tendrils curling and grasping soil. Spreading, entwining, they brace and bolster a towering tree. That tree will withstand gale force winds, setting her face against the storms, but she will not fall. The roots uphold and strengthen her being. She will still flower, she will still bear fruit. She will thrive, because she is rooted. Yes, "the root of the righteous will bear fruit." (Pr 12:12)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxvGrFG5P4_kgotFKmOCCRlFzo_jntKj_cnOTRN46qeH1Cnb7IVpn7Moe7X_wFIq8lBuUpqec7kcRjM_egSgUL__IE98Oit9PIk_yiAFGcEwYqeb8biGQwXQeR_PgidcIsf2fjhxiBbQ/s1600/DSCN1808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxvGrFG5P4_kgotFKmOCCRlFzo_jntKj_cnOTRN46qeH1Cnb7IVpn7Moe7X_wFIq8lBuUpqec7kcRjM_egSgUL__IE98Oit9PIk_yiAFGcEwYqeb8biGQwXQeR_PgidcIsf2fjhxiBbQ/s640/DSCN1808.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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And what of roots and towering trees? I ponder as I course familiar paths, stumbling over those very roots that nurture the canopy shielding me from the sun's afternoon heat. <br />
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Roots.<br />
Rooted.<br />
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Many times when a tree dies it is because there has been damage to the roots. Because the tree is no longer sustained by its life-giving roots, it rots and dies or is the victim of a wind storm. The weak roots are ripped from the earth, and the tree colapses. Dead.<br />
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And me. Am I rooted? Are my roots growing in fertile soil, drawing the "living water?"(Jn7:38) Or am I allowing the roots of my being to go unfed, unwatered? Where do I need to dig in my roots?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, <i>so</i> walk in Him, having been <strong>firmly</strong> <strong>rooted</strong> <i>and now</i> being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, <i>and</i> overflowing with gratitude. " (Col. 2:6-7)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItDSqyQN1DY5fu0qQaj4ZeGdcEvji9VoeYEY4zskEQsmRVxZDLApt9QoXNI3D8b7OOfv4p8mNfK5EO0l9wP9sASBGnEckclJ6jujQdOJy-X5Q-UElPUCBH8Vz1sENSmKFe9RqZuHTjg8/s1600/DSCN1794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItDSqyQN1DY5fu0qQaj4ZeGdcEvji9VoeYEY4zskEQsmRVxZDLApt9QoXNI3D8b7OOfv4p8mNfK5EO0l9wP9sASBGnEckclJ6jujQdOJy-X5Q-UElPUCBH8Vz1sENSmKFe9RqZuHTjg8/s640/DSCN1794.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
How can I expect to flourish if my roots, my being is not entrenched in the life-giver, the one who sustains? <br />
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I must be "rooted and grounded in love," so that I "may have strength to comprehend with all the holy ones what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that (I) may be filled with the fullness of God." (Eph. 3:17-19)<br />
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I must be rooted in Christ so that I can withstand the tempests, the trials, and the temptations of life. They <strong>will </strong>come. But if my roots are secure in Him, I, like the tree, will not fall. I will flourish.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-23267345187094477112011-09-21T15:59:00.001-04:002011-09-21T18:40:11.170-04:00Oliver's Marble ShooterCheck Out Oliver's Marble Shooter in <a href="http://smithdealsnapshots.blogspot.com/2011/09/september-21-2011-345-pm.html"> Snapshots!</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-20038107308428325382011-09-21T08:59:00.001-04:002011-09-21T16:14:07.415-04:00Coming To Terms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil7eCVNcCs0X_6vw_Waggb3EM6L10Mcqhz_qjbRNwLZPHFdtSNCLr7YKs7kMcftWgXcP6AQwRjcdUHYFczvMKqkX45rmlMCSIVc5T_-34sNIBm9leu73wexBH2nYdHswACJ8I6C0FjO8/s1600/103_3595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil7eCVNcCs0X_6vw_Waggb3EM6L10Mcqhz_qjbRNwLZPHFdtSNCLr7YKs7kMcftWgXcP6AQwRjcdUHYFczvMKqkX45rmlMCSIVc5T_-34sNIBm9leu73wexBH2nYdHswACJ8I6C0FjO8/s640/103_3595.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I was a vegetarian for a short period of time during my college years. Instead of thinking I had gone off the deep end, my sweet mother experimented with tofu and veggies and we still make some of the dishes discovered in those days.<br />
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Then I met Travis, and well...let's just say it never would have worked for him to have married a vegetarian. I willingly began to eat meat again, but I had come to terms with the fact that an animal has to die for me to gain that nourishment. <br />
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That was an important step for me. The Lord knew I would be bearing many sons who,like their father, would embrace the outdoor world in all its capacities: hunting, fishing, trapping, crabbing...Imagine if I had never come to terms with what has to happen when I choose to eat a hamburger!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jA0EbE3I10o/S9kYpq9ihjI/AAAAAAAACkk/LPaTslcdUSQ/s1600/103_3605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jA0EbE3I10o/S9kYpq9ihjI/AAAAAAAACkk/LPaTslcdUSQ/s640/103_3605.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's interesting how the same people who will sit and eat a steak will think it's wrong to hunt. An animal still has to die to provide that steak...and I have accepted that.</div><br />
Coming to terms with raising my own animals for food has taken that acceptance to a whole new level. Chestnut, Penny's calf, was born a year and a half ago. I knew when he was born that we would be raising him for food. But I still found myself thinking that I would not be able to eat the meat that his life afforded.<br />
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Even a week ago, as I drove to pick up hundreds of pounds of beef to fill our freezer, I didn't think I would be able to eat that meat. Then Oliver said something to me that changed my whole perception. "Mom," he said, "The people who say we shouldn't eat meat aren't thinkning right, because God provided animals for us to feed us and give us protein. It says that right in the Bible."<br />
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Gulp. yes....God did do that. Suddenly I realized that I needed to be filled with thanksgiving, not hesitation, for what God has generously provided for us! I am not making a statement against vegetarianism; rather I am reaffirming the rightness and goodness of allowing God to provide for my family. <br />
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There is a profound thanks and appreciation that comes from nurturing and sustaining that which God provides. Whether it is the tomato swelling ripe in the garden, or the calf nursing in the pasture,it is evident that God has given us a share in his Dominion (ref Genesis 1:26), a part in his creative process.<br />
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Not all of us can raise our own animals (or would want to), and many of us can't even have our own gardens. However, we can still acknowledge God as the provider of all and thank Him for allowing us to take part in nourishing the very food that sustains our existence.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-3952680989628713162011-09-20T20:53:00.000-04:002011-09-20T20:53:25.076-04:00Because Most of Our Days Are Made Of Simple Moments...Here is what I hope to become a record of our days...<br />
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<a href="http://smithdealsnapshots.blogspot.com/">Snapshots</a><br />
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And this may not interest you, but I wanted to invite you...Of course!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQT4WJ9hAF8C2X3Jd7RzWEhkEmrnQ4-oS_0l0hSmJH9_wkGA-BOr5LOUX0sPyRnDSjDqmLlo4x4nl6ykQak0pznjsY0PB021QTVAZRPMIRefIHpfepJmZEw1BU8KRqB_XY-c0lznWP34c/s1600/DSCN1436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQT4WJ9hAF8C2X3Jd7RzWEhkEmrnQ4-oS_0l0hSmJH9_wkGA-BOr5LOUX0sPyRnDSjDqmLlo4x4nl6ykQak0pznjsY0PB021QTVAZRPMIRefIHpfepJmZEw1BU8KRqB_XY-c0lznWP34c/s640/DSCN1436.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-20333897182643406032011-09-20T08:42:00.001-04:002011-09-20T08:48:29.828-04:00A Little About The Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePH5uUp0QEkk7Vo_EKDoy85GqgNo2ouyCDlnjt9pR82poGPZpO8qARL79J6AEVzLYYSwYiIx58R7AiZ7DfLZMMvjlR5X123ivkvZ_r9M3nqjWai-r_ZCZGEWSAg2bioqvC0n7bvmtINI/s1600/DSCN1508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePH5uUp0QEkk7Vo_EKDoy85GqgNo2ouyCDlnjt9pR82poGPZpO8qARL79J6AEVzLYYSwYiIx58R7AiZ7DfLZMMvjlR5X123ivkvZ_r9M3nqjWai-r_ZCZGEWSAg2bioqvC0n7bvmtINI/s640/DSCN1508.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
Ben and Will took over the gardening this year while their dad was away......<br />
It looks like Dad might be out of a job next Summer!<br />
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Here is Will with his abundant peppers....I think he had ten different varieties. He enjoyed 'pepper sandwiches' for lunch all Summer. (Notice John Paul poking his head in the doorway.) <br />
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The freezer is filled with tomatoes, peppers, and green beans. The pantry is loaded with jars of salsa...our favorite. Some of the tomatoes were grown from heirloom seeds that have been in this community for years. The Ox heart tomato, a hearty flavorful tomato shaped like an Ox heart, has been passed on from friend to friend. The friend that gave me our plants asked me to harvest the seeds so that we can have more plants next year. I saved the seeds on a small square of paper towel and put them in an envelope for her. I think that this 'seed sharing' is the essence of what I love about living in Deerfield. It truly is a community.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDL3_7yaqDWaazjlqBqfeJaoQ03Khtqhjcn7675Ii5UgyTrjpKHo_8ufCLli9joSDW5yQuu5uRYdMKhvcjVV5hvEBZe3G6InUYskAue_MRUy_eYlBtdEopvM1pB0CSdsGZrIio_n9klk/s1600/DSCN1504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDL3_7yaqDWaazjlqBqfeJaoQ03Khtqhjcn7675Ii5UgyTrjpKHo_8ufCLli9joSDW5yQuu5uRYdMKhvcjVV5hvEBZe3G6InUYskAue_MRUy_eYlBtdEopvM1pB0CSdsGZrIio_n9klk/s640/DSCN1504.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-56934490300770298972011-09-18T23:43:00.000-04:002011-09-18T23:43:36.771-04:00Finding The Quiet Places<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4B1UmtHuXdNHrr9f-b-fjyjOuBns_pzAQQmCtYvvw5SKBJeWxvcHkMs7gMw_UqPzDSYn51XXGDK6tUBiDqUaMG1YgXSAzY7EDaxWFblpk22KekAqOWTiX6hRF1v9y3dDj3hiBKCN9Ss/s1600/DSCN1286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4B1UmtHuXdNHrr9f-b-fjyjOuBns_pzAQQmCtYvvw5SKBJeWxvcHkMs7gMw_UqPzDSYn51XXGDK6tUBiDqUaMG1YgXSAzY7EDaxWFblpk22KekAqOWTiX6hRF1v9y3dDj3hiBKCN9Ss/s640/DSCN1286.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Deserts, silence, solitudes are not necessarily places but states of mind and heart. These deserts can be found in the midst of the city, and in the every day of our lives. We need only to look for them and realize our tremendous need for them. They will be small solitudes, little deserts, tiny pools of silence, but the experience they will bring, if we are disposed to enter them, may be as exultant and as holy as all the deserts of the world, even the one God himself entered. For it is God who makes solitude, deserts, and silences holy."</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">~Catherine de Hueck Doherty</span></em><br />
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The quietude of every day unfolds in moments too numerous to count; the infinitesimal grandeur explodes in gentle silences, quenching our thirsty souls.<br />
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My prayer: <br />
"Make me still, Lord. I want to <em>know You. You <strong>are </strong>God!"</em><br />
<em> (ref Psalm 46:10)</em><br />
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Will you join me and find some quiet places in your day?<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">"Stand still,and allow the strange deadly <strong>restlessness </strong>of our tragic age to fall away like the worn-out dusty cloak that it is- <strong>a cloak that was once considered beautiful. The restlessness was considered the magic cloak of tomorrow, but now in reality, we see it for what it is: a running away from oneself, a turning from that journey inward that all men must undertake to meet God dwelling within the depths of their souls."</strong></span></em><br />
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~Catherine de Hueck DohertyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-13696519433975589182011-06-26T01:11:00.001-04:002011-06-26T01:20:36.364-04:00What Mama Decided<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBmVlb9mWb1n3fJ6mm237Gvd_5lvSlhXLeyPTh-wFSQFU7nmSQb3YjKjfDNUsLokjo55pkdFBIVa7slIgphUwEof4C6vioqE5AaWU-b-EJmhGPGJ762T6EL-8jzk3VhmWDKufisrs_WE/s1600/DSCN0970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBmVlb9mWb1n3fJ6mm237Gvd_5lvSlhXLeyPTh-wFSQFU7nmSQb3YjKjfDNUsLokjo55pkdFBIVa7slIgphUwEof4C6vioqE5AaWU-b-EJmhGPGJ762T6EL-8jzk3VhmWDKufisrs_WE/s640/DSCN0970.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Naked toes curl in the ooze of mud, fists clench berries all dripping with ripeness and swell a little boy's head with notions of a steaming pie....<br />
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Another boy is a hunter; he is serious. He will feed the family with the new skill he is acquiring, and young girls are intent on cramming baskets with Summer's bounty....<br />
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A mama walks behind, slow...and thoughtfully taking it all in, drinking mirth and delight of childhood..heart filled with the meanderings of her own mind...<br />
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And this time...This time she's thinking about labels...<br />
How labels are good for cans, and appropriate for tags on clothes, and perfect for identifying animals and plants and such...<br />
Yes, labels identify; they tell us exactly what we're getting. I know that when I open a can labeled "dog food," I will not find tomatoes inside (hopefully!)<br />
I know that when I order a size "small" dress in the mail, I will not get a size "extra large." <br />
So labels can be a good thing....for <strong>things.</strong><br />
<strong>Labels are not helpful for people.</strong><br />
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He's lazy. She's dumb. They are ignorant. I'm fat. He's a troublemaker. On and on it goes...until we stuff people in cans, like a bunch of sardines, and slap a sticker on them. We all do it. It's part of human nature to want to define and categorize others by appearances or even actions:<br />
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"But the LORD said to Samuel, 'Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, <strong>but the Lord looks at the heart.</strong>' " (Samuel 16:7)<br />
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Isn't it good to know that <strong>God doesn't label us? And if He doesn't label us, why do we insist on labeling others? When we label others, we cannot see the richness and depth of who they truly are; we do not see them with dignity, as beloved creatures made in the image and likeness of God. When we label others, we are actually refusing to see others as God does...with eyes of love.</strong><br />
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I've had it with labels...<br />
It's time to stop using them for people and keep them on cans and dress tags....where they belong!!!<br />
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That's what the mama decided on that walk...<br />
and that thought made her heart happy.<br />
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Well, since I can't get Ben to start his own blog, I am using my blog to showcase his amazing photography. He uses an ipod to take all his pictures, then enhances them with an application right on the ipod! He even got a nifty copyright symbol that goes on every photo he takes!<br />
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Now...today's topic... seems a little strange. I often wake up with a word or thought on my mind that must somehow percolate overnight. The children were telling me yesterday about a person they know that bothers them, but they could not put their finger on what it was that annoyed them about this person. After describing several interactions with this individual, the conversation turned to something else. I didn't think about it after that, but I guess my brain was working on it subconsciously, and this morning I woke up thinking about the less than noble quality of being exacting.<br />
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So what does it mean to be exacting?<br />
An 'exacting' person constantly keeps score: "I did this for you, so now you need to do this for me." Of course, this isn't stated out loud (in most cases), but even worse, the tension of being 'even' is always there.<br />
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An exacting person, in the name of justice, equality, respect, and virtue, demands perfection and accountability for all actions- even to the point of sacrificing the relationship. The law is to be upheld at all costs, excluding charity and love of one another.<br />
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I think the pharisees must have been an exacting sort of people. Even when Christ performed the most amazing miracles, they could only see the breach of the law (healing on the Sabbath, etc..) But God never said that the law is supreme; the law is not an end in itself. In fact, when questioned regarding the greatest commandments, Jesus responds:<br />
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“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40)<br />
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<strong>The law is dependent upon love of God and man; love is not dependent upon the law!</strong><br />
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The Lord does tell us that if we love him we will keep his commandments: <br />
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And this is his commandment, that we believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. (24) Whoever keeps his commandments abides in him, and he in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit whom he has given us. (1 John 3:23-24)<br />
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But in conjunction with this mandate he says that <strong>God has commanded us to love one another.</strong><br />
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He also tells us that without love, anything we do is fruitless:<br />
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If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. (2) And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but <strong>have not love, I am nothing</strong>. (3) If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)<br />
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So the bottom line is, I need to remember in all my actions that <strong>love must be the driving force</strong>. Things may not be "exactly" right, or even as they should be, but are made <strong>perfect</strong> in His love. <br />
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"It has been told you, O' man, what is good, and what the LORD does require of you, only to do justice, to love <strong>mercy</strong>, and to walk humbly with your God". (Micah 6:8)<br />
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"The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven..Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." <br />
~Shakespeare<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLMF1nnFmzPGA4phv_vX86aGcW-uXKRCy3utq0WGVtKFDYIjsAr3vMdlG9QXkTeHrVE_QOepVSnn9fk6pdVuRMx4CyZoA1A1kRbWeh2V87eXusTiDUVkrc7A6LcCTGRuR9jPUKDNnBj0/s1600/094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLMF1nnFmzPGA4phv_vX86aGcW-uXKRCy3utq0WGVtKFDYIjsAr3vMdlG9QXkTeHrVE_QOepVSnn9fk6pdVuRMx4CyZoA1A1kRbWeh2V87eXusTiDUVkrc7A6LcCTGRuR9jPUKDNnBj0/s320/094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-56146237534800226442011-06-15T09:56:00.001-04:002011-06-15T10:17:05.153-04:00Hemmed In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwj2oHQkQUCUQGJJxtc7lhqTzz7BzMw8KNWnCxOwqnPFqSgaEd2PGyXexPReBN852itnt5fbudRZYDwzpAWR0xyqw1bKk-k6PXXOArmuWr2aTNpfqBdglIqNVXU68zCkThEKjVEGdJ2A/s1600/DSCN0561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwj2oHQkQUCUQGJJxtc7lhqTzz7BzMw8KNWnCxOwqnPFqSgaEd2PGyXexPReBN852itnt5fbudRZYDwzpAWR0xyqw1bKk-k6PXXOArmuWr2aTNpfqBdglIqNVXU68zCkThEKjVEGdJ2A/s640/DSCN0561.JPG" t8="true" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Oh, it feels so good to be back "home!" We finally had our new computer hooked to the Internet...and then I waited a bit to start blogging again...trying to adjust to the Summer routine and plant the garden, things like that. But it does feel great to be back!<br />
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I wasn't sure what direction the blog would take this Summer, and my sister asked me, "So, are you just going to keep the blog more of a family blog when you go back to blogging?"<br />
I paused...and then gave her a truthful answer:<br />
"No...<strong>I don't like to be hemmed in.</strong> I'm going to write whatever the mood suits..."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYxNPgX0HNGdQ04vxXzkXJcrxxbnJIQK-4r7tA4iEnnEnjUc2NJOzMexPKdXAXJ7P8gGWgkX6v1DSV8UTwHTAQeHMhiY_S3P0_3pLs4_lJcP0Wkw7ymgmxHneNg0ytcz6XOH01_JcrAo/s1600/RSCN0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYxNPgX0HNGdQ04vxXzkXJcrxxbnJIQK-4r7tA4iEnnEnjUc2NJOzMexPKdXAXJ7P8gGWgkX6v1DSV8UTwHTAQeHMhiY_S3P0_3pLs4_lJcP0Wkw7ymgmxHneNg0ytcz6XOH01_JcrAo/s640/RSCN0527.JPG" t8="true" width="640" /></a></div><br />
And I thought a lot about that phrase the last two days..." Not wanting to be hemmed in." I don't want to unravel, either. Metaphorically speaking, I don't want to fall apart at the seams. Now I am no longer talking about blogging. I am speaking of life.<br />
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Many bad decisions in life are made out of not wanting to be "hemmed" in: extramarital affairs, drugs, alcohol abuse, etc.. But where do the big mistakes begin? A person doesn't go to bed sober and wake up drunk. At some point a decision is made to step out of those safe boundaries God has provided for us: the fences sheltering the vulnerable sheep, Christ our shepherd protecting us. Why would we ever want to leave the safety and security of his verdant pastures?<br />
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I woke up this morning with a Bible verse in my heart:<br />
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"Therefore, God handed them over to impurity through the lusts of their hearts for the mutual degradation of their bodies<strong>. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie and revered and worshipped the creature rather than the creator, who is blessed forever." </strong>(Romans 1:24-25)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZjDX5Plvy8Z806SPUJlkXv4GvoYhELracYIho1fjWNXpF-siK-AHBxHHpkrJkjSBVwFO7gHV8mMvuygXryhNPDzmrs9A4CGU96LIzbWJyYz2hc73pRvBcO1f52dZtRbU4gq9YbE6tnA/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZjDX5Plvy8Z806SPUJlkXv4GvoYhELracYIho1fjWNXpF-siK-AHBxHHpkrJkjSBVwFO7gHV8mMvuygXryhNPDzmrs9A4CGU96LIzbWJyYz2hc73pRvBcO1f52dZtRbU4gq9YbE6tnA/s640/008.JPG" t8="true" width="480" /></a></div><br />
God "handed them over" sounds to me like resignation. God doesn't <strong>give </strong>us to sin, but because of the freedom he has entrusted to us, he will not keep us from choosing to "break fence." <br />
But here's the crux of the problem:<br />
Why were they given over to the lusts of their hearts in the first place?<br />
Because..."<strong>they exchanged the truth of God for a lie."</strong><br />
And why did they begin to believe lies instead of the truth? Because "<strong>they worshipped the creature rather than the creator."</strong><br />
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I can't pretend to be a Bible scholar, and there is certain danger in interpreting passages of scripture on our own; however, these passages speak so clearly that interpretation is not even necessary! Paul states it plainly in this letter to the Romans that sin begins with a lie, a distortion of who God is, and the root of that distortion has to do with loving that which is created rather than the creator.<br />
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So how does this teaching apply to my life? When I make decisions based on what I want, what I feel, what I am desiring or even lusting after rather than what God wants, I am worshipping the creature (me) rather than the creator. When I make decisions based on my desires, I am stepping out of that safe pasture, prey for the hungry wolves (sin).<br />
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And then what happens? Once I have made myself the center of my life, made my desires my God, what next? I take the very attributes of a holy God and distort them for my own purposes: His loving kindness becomes a perverted mercy (I can do whatever I want and God will always love me), His forbearance becomes presumption (just this one last indulgence, and then I won't commit this sin again), his patience is taken advantage of. In short, I have exchanged the <strong>truth</strong> of who God is for a lie.<br />
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And God has all these wonderful attributes...He is " gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love." (Psalm 145:8) But the very attributes of God that we use to tolerate sin are meant to exhort us and lead us away from sin! :<br />
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"<strong>Or do you hold his priceless kindness, forbearance, patience in low esteem, unaware that the kindness of God would lead you to repentance?" </strong>(Romans 2:4)<br />
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Let us, then, pick up the threads of our unravelling and allow God to stitch us back together, hemmed in by his loving kindness and fathomless mercy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-76675915785704510562011-05-11T10:48:00.000-04:002011-05-11T10:48:36.157-04:00We Are Still Here!Hello, Dear friends.<br />
It has been way too long! Our computer was taken out by a storm ...and I have sadly not been able to blog. I miss my little "home" on the internet terribly, but I hope to be back to blogging very soon! I am at our local library typing this, but I am unable to load pictures on this computer. What would my blog be without pictures? <br />
Hope to "see" you soon.<br />
Love and peace,<br />
EileenUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-73515010950997726432011-04-27T10:07:00.001-04:002011-04-27T10:07:48.573-04:00Wonderful YOU!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicpxcRRL2jhqfQZNJVMpIPs77aEycURay5hsVhGeaMKHJMWX9_WoNPH_ysBbHWOwLVvy4MD6NTF09-bgwRuBvODYNJ7S9Z_zLhVhAcGxfPlMiIJ_LH7X-B0YhQhXQcWYCA20Xc4g_kifc/s1600/Picture+331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicpxcRRL2jhqfQZNJVMpIPs77aEycURay5hsVhGeaMKHJMWX9_WoNPH_ysBbHWOwLVvy4MD6NTF09-bgwRuBvODYNJ7S9Z_zLhVhAcGxfPlMiIJ_LH7X-B0YhQhXQcWYCA20Xc4g_kifc/s640/Picture+331.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">You are wish...</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">You are promise...</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">You are future!</span></em><br />
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Can you say that when you feel discouraged today?<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">I am wish. I am promise. I am future.</span></em><br />
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Try this just for today....whenever you think a negative thought, or feel upset...repeat this verse to yourself:<br />
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<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0"><em><span style="font-size: large;">"I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are your works, and my soul knows it very well."</span></em></span><br />
<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0"><em>(psalm 139:14)</em></span><br />
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You are defined by your identity in God, your maker. Nothing else...period!<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">You are wonderful!</span></em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszn-JUuX2Q_wrVa_zJg0tC0ibH14N1Y6qj98XC94DL-Mo2k0biw-AvEIg3uJi85tuMJ3aSmYH6K4EKGG0Bv4prfOaaZ8gmQ6hzBqcB_5EsYn2TtRyOWzFKlMjI5gOaJ2GDzNumFpWmPQ/s1600/Picture+343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszn-JUuX2Q_wrVa_zJg0tC0ibH14N1Y6qj98XC94DL-Mo2k0biw-AvEIg3uJi85tuMJ3aSmYH6K4EKGG0Bv4prfOaaZ8gmQ6hzBqcB_5EsYn2TtRyOWzFKlMjI5gOaJ2GDzNumFpWmPQ/s640/Picture+343.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-12221966890608031422011-04-26T15:36:00.002-04:002011-04-26T17:35:28.379-04:00Petals In The Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a_QVT1P6WFIxiF82ATFDweAA8vfppupdL-6797edzsAr0QOzKs8VRV8_WpXN2XsTIFXO5ncezYVB7SMjBjd3U_TCiBMe5CGZc_aXzf3j6rZVhAZSkKAdATnDT1L3PpM7EOkOkQLRXmg/s1600/Picture+309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a_QVT1P6WFIxiF82ATFDweAA8vfppupdL-6797edzsAr0QOzKs8VRV8_WpXN2XsTIFXO5ncezYVB7SMjBjd3U_TCiBMe5CGZc_aXzf3j6rZVhAZSkKAdATnDT1L3PpM7EOkOkQLRXmg/s640/Picture+309.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
Apple blossoms flower the dining room table, and another one slips off to flurry down in the breeze. I think to myself that I need to take them outside and put them to rest. Their bloom has surely given way to a mess.<br />
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I'm drawn back to the words of a teacher I once worked with : "I never bring real flowers in the house- only artificial ones. The real ones just make too much of a mess." I remember being horrified (seriously) by the very thought of no real flowers in the house! I wasn't married yet, but I already had visions of the lovely flowers that would fill my home with beauty and lavish scent.<br />
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Now I have to laugh; you see, I still bring fresh flowers in, but they ARE A MESS! And I think Of dear Ms. Maclin's words every time I clean up a flower mess. So today, I'm sitting on the bench, trying to fix my vacuum, and it stinks. It smells like Roy, our lab. I can't imagine not having him inside with us, but no matter what we do, he just has a more "doggy" odor. And I'm thinking about all these messes that could be avoided?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSO1-B73Eg4x4dvXL9AehU1Cjk5PL2bC1maK69iBG9teNXXLIsuX95ghile1cAEURN4dmG6bwbXtXP9DuCWnXTiohBFvDUTFXrAnMow_cwMPRN1upchwV_EDTlxzw0mgT3TRtHfkamiSk/s1600/Picture+308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSO1-B73Eg4x4dvXL9AehU1Cjk5PL2bC1maK69iBG9teNXXLIsuX95ghile1cAEURN4dmG6bwbXtXP9DuCWnXTiohBFvDUTFXrAnMow_cwMPRN1upchwV_EDTlxzw0mgT3TRtHfkamiSk/s640/Picture+308.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
And that's just it. There is a price for being real. Flowers that bestow scent and loveliness fade and die. Dogs smell and shed hair. Children change clothes, muddy floors, squeeze toothpaste all over the place, spill juice, and make all manner of messes ... <br />
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But imagine a world with no Lilac smell, no cuddly dogs breathing soft on the sheepskin rug, no little feet pitter patting towards you with pink boots and bathing suit. Imagine a life of artificiality, where it's all fake. The house is clean: no flower messes, no dog hair to vacuum, no fingerprints to wipe....<br />
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<strong><em>But no life. No life, because life is messy. The passion and beauty of real living, real relationships, emotions that swell and fill come at a price- the price of being vulnerable to the pain, the discomfort, the mess. And so many times, because I don't want the mess, I choose the artificial. I sacrifice the living that runs deep for surface living that shields but doesn't penetrate, that' s safe but not overflowing- a lifeless void that does not infuse all who God is. Because He is real, and there is no substitute for the breath of a living God.</em></strong><br />
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So many times we bring "artificial flowers" into our souls, because we don't want the mess of " real flowers." We choose to keep relationships shallow and flat, because we're afraid of the dying- the death of emotions, the death of loneliness, the death of self. <br />
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When I choose to love someone in a way that is authentic, I give pieces of myself away; those emotions that bloom and flower may some day be petals in the wind. But if my soul has become more beautiful through that loving, even if for just a short while, that beauty will never fade. Real relationships edify and sculpt a soul for eternity.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">"I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, my course runs below the soundings of plummets."</span></em><br />
<em>~Walt Whitman</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8RWoZQH5KdZtB_pMMn8yePxM-NUBK7SZxbRUQu3wtmQDXTlsoPudViJ6DNWls5C12Jr8di-fpxNeBEAf_4HDlRz0Hm-mGolW4V4QdKFkL4ZzQqDQy8T0m-GjEqD7GWfi9HkJwOwy-g0/s1600/Picture+313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8RWoZQH5KdZtB_pMMn8yePxM-NUBK7SZxbRUQu3wtmQDXTlsoPudViJ6DNWls5C12Jr8di-fpxNeBEAf_4HDlRz0Hm-mGolW4V4QdKFkL4ZzQqDQy8T0m-GjEqD7GWfi9HkJwOwy-g0/s640/Picture+313.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-39527613655822740832011-04-25T10:19:00.000-04:002011-04-25T10:19:31.786-04:00Never<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJq5hGnDXGuP28-CMy5nnSpXm5OU81Cog4eyy4WDlV9ZMZG9DiEcOib1qQqoAkFBncF4W7iCqkYt6akDE-lsjbGLDSfoq_eV4G4R8isyJI02YXBaS_TwmB-eUFb4lrWoR9w6PWfiYIZQ/s1600/Picture+272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJq5hGnDXGuP28-CMy5nnSpXm5OU81Cog4eyy4WDlV9ZMZG9DiEcOib1qQqoAkFBncF4W7iCqkYt6akDE-lsjbGLDSfoq_eV4G4R8isyJI02YXBaS_TwmB-eUFb4lrWoR9w6PWfiYIZQ/s640/Picture+272.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
I have lots of books. LOTS. I guess other people have lots too, because in the book I was reading last night (one I had picked up at a book sale) this is what was written in it:<br />
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I like that idea- writing the date I finished reading a book. Unfortunately, though, I rarely read nonfiction books start to finish. I read snippets here and there as they catch my interest.<br />
<br />
Last night I was reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/HISTORY-ATOMIC-AMERICAN-HERITAGE-LIBRARY/dp/B002OG6G56/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1303739312&sr=8-1">The History Of The Atomic Bomb</a>. I had cleaned out a book shelf over the weekend, and this book was in my potential "give-away" stack (not anymore).<br />
<br />
So there I was, on Easter night, no less, reading about the atomic bomb. And I read the most fascinating account:<br />
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<em>In 400 BC the Greek philosopher Democritus first speculated on the existence of particles so very small that they could not become any smaller. He called these particles atoms, a combination of two Greek words meaning 'that which cannot be cut.'</em><br />
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<em><strong>More than two thousand years later Isaac Newton revived the idea.</strong> 'It seems probable to me,' Newton wrote, 'that God in the beginning formed matter in solid...particles... even so as to never wear or break in pieces; no ordinary power being able to divide what God himself made in the first creation.' (p12)</em><br />
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More than two thousand years.<br />
Two thousand years for an idea to take hold.<br />
Two thousand years of the mind wheels spinning.<br />
Two thousand years of cocooning, incubating, percolating.<br />
<strong>but still breathing, still alive.</strong><br />
<br />
And oddly, this new insight to the discovery of the atomic bomb infuses hope. It all makes sense.<br />
<strong><em>Two thousand years. Two thousand years ago, Christ died on a cross saving me from my sins today.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Love takes long. </strong><br />
<strong>Love takes long, but love never fails. </strong><br />
<strong>That is a promise I can hold on to!</strong><br />
<br />
"Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears."<br />
(1Corinthians 13:8-9)<br />
<br />
Love is a verb. Love is an act of faith.We love the unlovable, love the impossible, love the dying, love the disfigured, love the very people in our lives that cause us the most pain. God can take that love and heal. God can take that love and restore wholeness..because...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Love never fails. never.</em></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xmqp5RAyZIj107XzXvCRJX_PATgxdg_NS7aBLyfYqPEqDNMBKmPUz5Ufd74uFwaJTjkGTmTt5c6yTRihvTupFrl-OukqOXVXQM9XyLrEiIpafYf06agH4XBT1v0jLdSF2W2JFHN1Puw/s1600/Picture+274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xmqp5RAyZIj107XzXvCRJX_PATgxdg_NS7aBLyfYqPEqDNMBKmPUz5Ufd74uFwaJTjkGTmTt5c6yTRihvTupFrl-OukqOXVXQM9XyLrEiIpafYf06agH4XBT1v0jLdSF2W2JFHN1Puw/s640/Picture+274.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-68887556932809473612011-04-23T18:51:00.000-04:002011-04-23T18:51:54.400-04:00Anna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNyYZq0IEIlHBA6wRE6yg7DipJ-GEhHtf34Sxk11OuNf1MCQGfqyOc8FZ4KTtDmL8Ywh1wfELaUkvIKOxhJ4qkDv3xYESGRJyE731UEA7cNU0tflma5EiEiJLtK6oDcfFklWYxMQQWYU/s1600/Picture+263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNyYZq0IEIlHBA6wRE6yg7DipJ-GEhHtf34Sxk11OuNf1MCQGfqyOc8FZ4KTtDmL8Ywh1wfELaUkvIKOxhJ4qkDv3xYESGRJyE731UEA7cNU0tflma5EiEiJLtK6oDcfFklWYxMQQWYU/s640/Picture+263.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
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Anna.<br />
Her name means gracious, one who gives, or favored by God. <br />
She cut her hair. She played. She wore her new dress. She slept. She swept. <br />
I love this girl!<br />
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I'm not so fond of coloring books, but Tommy loves them! He spends hours coloring pictures...and is so proud of them. When we were at the book sale last week, he picked out a coloring book. I didn't think much of it...until I started seeing the pages scattered about the house.<br />
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"I like this coloring book! Look at all the great sayings on the pages..." I was talking to Will, and we chuckled over the quotes on the pages: sayings from Aristotle, Shakespeare, Ann Frank...<br />
<br />
"I don't see why it matters. He can't read them, anyway, " Will said dismissively.<br />
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I think it matters. Any time we can add beauty to our lives, no matter in how small a way, it matters.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Soup~</span></em><br />
<br />
Here is a soup I made yesterday that I was pleased with. The recipe came from <a href="http://www.health.com/health">Health magazine</a>. To make it even more appealing, I used wild greens in place of Spinach and the green tips of onion "grass" in place of scallions. It's called Egg Flower Soup. And here's how to make it:<br />
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In a medium saucepan, bring <strong>4 cups chicken broth </strong>to a rolling boil over medium-high heat. Stir in <strong>2 cups Spinach leaves, 1/2 tsp sesame oil, and 1/2 tsp salt</strong>, allowing the spinach to wilt in the soup. Stir well until the chicken broth is swirling in circles. Slowly pour <strong>2 beaten eggs </strong>into the soup, and continue to stir gently for about 30 seconds. Sprinkle <strong>3 Tablespoons thinly sliced scallions </strong>onto the soup and serve hot!<br />
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<br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">A Lovely Prayer</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">from Rainer Maria Rilke's Book Of Hours</span></em><br />
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You see, I want a lot.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I want everything:<br />
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall<br />
and the shivering blaze of every step up.<br />
<br />
So many live on and want nothing<br />
and are raised to the rank of prince<br />
by the slippery ease of their light judgments.<br />
But what you love to see are faces<br />
that so work and feel thirst....<br />
<br />
You have not grown old, and it is not too late<br />
to dive into your increasing depths<br />
where life calmly gives out its own secret.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737564908209547189.post-43745081167053821232011-04-18T09:37:00.003-04:002011-04-18T09:51:52.991-04:00In Pursuit Of Self<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESDvw5cYr_hyFuxzR-uB65zBk-JjMbmumzt3Fs2aagDb5VmGgbTdgHrx7djXrgISTbZpHphkHrglo7_ar8HhwfsuTNY39cO8MKxDqD9LgaM66lFZ9El0NKT0Vo9wPOhMszpfhbQBe6o4/s1600/Picture+239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESDvw5cYr_hyFuxzR-uB65zBk-JjMbmumzt3Fs2aagDb5VmGgbTdgHrx7djXrgISTbZpHphkHrglo7_ar8HhwfsuTNY39cO8MKxDqD9LgaM66lFZ9El0NKT0Vo9wPOhMszpfhbQBe6o4/s640/Picture+239.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">"From the rising of the sun to its setting The name of the Lord is to be praised." ~ </span><span style="font-size: small;">psalm 113:3</span></em><br />
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When I was a little girl, I was the center of my small universe. I have the distinct memory of riding home from lake Sherando- I guess I was about four years old or so- looking out the window of the unusually quiet car, staring at the moon. Every time we turned, the moon seemed to follow us. The faster we went, the moon kept the pace.<br />
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"Mommy!," I remember excitedly whispering," The moon is following me..."<br />
Now that I have my own children, and I know a little about the so-called psychological development of children, I realize that this "egocentric" view of the world is a "normal" stage of development in a child's life.<br />
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And, of course, we hope to pass through this self-centered phase, as remaining the center of one's own existence is certainly not the foundation of maturity. Have you ever met an adult who still thinks that life should center around him or her? We all have moments of self-god, but hopefully it's not the norm.<br />
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There is one area of our lives, however, where it would be good to see ourselves in the center, in focus. As I took my walk yesterday, the sun seemed to follow me. I was once again that child in the car, small and stilled...to think that the sun follows me. It was not the arrogance of self being glorified. It was the humility, the awe of a child, that such grandeur would pursue nothingness. That though I am not worthy, He gifts me every day in innumerable abundance.<br />
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That it doesn't matter how good I am, or what I do, or how I look. That it doesn't matter what my house looks like, or how my kids turn out, or what a mess my life is. That perfection is not the prerequisite. He pursues me because he loves me. <span style="font-size: large;"><em>He Loves me.</em> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Is there really anything more than this? </span><br />
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Every day God pours his very life out for us. Every morning we must commit ourselves to sharing in his love. Loving God isn't about being good; loving God is about becoming a receptacle of his grace by choosing Him above all else.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">"Choose you this day whom ye will serve."</span><span style="font-size: small;">~ Joshua 24:15</span></em><br />
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Every morning, every moment, I make that choice. Loving God isn't about me; I am only able to respond to Him, to be filled with love, because He first calls me. And when I respond to that call, when I choose to serve Him above all, I love Him in a way that completes self: self in the center, self radiating out, self widening circles that unleash His love to others.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Invitation To Love</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">by Paul Laurence Dunbar</span><br />
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Come when the nights are bright with stars <br />
Or when the moon is mellow; <br />
Come when the sun his golden bars <br />
Drops on the hay-field yellow. <br />
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Come in the twilight soft and gray, <br />
Come in the night or come in the day, <br />
Come, O love, whene'er you may, <br />
And you are welcome, welcome.<br />
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You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, <br />
You are soft as the nesting dove. <br />
Come to my heart and bring it rest <br />
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.<br />
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Come when my heart is full of grief <br />
Or when my heart is merry; <br />
Come with the falling of the leaf <br />
Or with the redd'ning cherry. <br />
Come when the year's first blossom blows, <br />
Come when the summer gleams and glows, <br />
Come with the winter's drifting snows, <br />
And you are welcome, welcome.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com