tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85744620404720852172024-03-13T22:33:18.565-07:00Passionate Mothering: My LearningAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-21208773063615699232016-12-09T11:08:00.003-08:002016-12-11T16:59:48.894-08:00Why You Need To Stop Christmas Shopping Right Now...And Read This First. <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So before you label me a grinch...hear this Mama out.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This Christmas? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Your kids and my kids?</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">They simply do NOT need any </span><span style="font-size: large;">more presents. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>So stop shopping....NOW.</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The rushing and calculating and stress that periodically creeps up in your gut during this season of Advent? That pit in your stomach that you are feeling in this very moment because you are wondering how you are going to get it all done? And if you have the right toy for this kid? And enough presents for that one? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>Mamas, you are bringing this torture upon yourselves.</b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It's time to stop the madness and enjoy Advent. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've fallen prey to this cycle of </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas Craziness </span><span style="font-size: large;">some years past. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that nasty shopping shenanigans? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Girls, that ain't NO WAY TO DO CHRISTMAS. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can go rogue this year...and actually enjoy ALL of Advent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How? (I didn't think you'd ask!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Here are my SEVEN Advent guidelines that can change your December from CRAZY to INCREDIBLE...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Go against the grain (and all of modern society) and discourage your kids from making Christmas lists. </b>I know. I know. This sounds ALMOST "anti-Christmas" and you may get some rolled eyes from relatives. But around here? We scrapped the list-making last year and it has made Christmas an entirely new experience. We're teaching our kiddos that when someone asks them what they "want", to politely smile and say, "Any gift is a great gift! Give whatever your like." Now, of course our crew has toys and gifts they are hoping and wishing to unwrap this December 25th. But nixing the list-making has made our kiddos so much more appreciative of any and all gifts they do receive. It's also done something else. It's created more opportunities for our family members to spend special time with each other, trying to find out gifts might be the biggest blessing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I inwardly cringe when someone asks our kids to make a Christmas list. Because it unintentionally centers Christmas on self and not on Christ. And the list making? It also creates a lot of stress on you Mamas! The other big payoff of NOT making Christmas lists? There is NOT masssive dissapointment on Christmas morn when your kiddo doesn't receive a drum set or a four-wheeler or a trip to Disney World - just because he scribbled it on a list. The joy in scrapping the Christmas list? Any present is a welcomed one. Because there is no expectation on "getting", just celebrating. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Any present become a cherished present. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Kiddos only need one present for each year they are old, up until age 5.</b> You read that right. This isn't cruel and unusual punishment. This is called sanity. I can not tell you how many times I have stayed up late wrapping multiple gifts when my kids were two or three-year-old, only to find that he or she only had the patience to unwrap one or two gifts. And guess what? If you think back to Christmas' past...I'll bet that your kiddos only typically focused on one or two gifts that they instantly LOVED and wanted to immediately play with too! The saddest thing to witness on Christmas morn is when a kid is excited about a new present and wants to actually explore and enjoy it, but we parents insist she MUST FIRST opens up all of her other gifts. Now THAT is cruel and unusual Christmas punishment!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have a four-year-old daughter? Purposefully select and wrap four gifts. You. Can. Do. This. You will not be handcuffed and turned into the North Pole for killing Christmas. Ok, so let's get real. The first year you try this, it will feel WRONG. On Christmas Eve when you assess her small pile of presents under the tree and you will temporarily freak out. This too shall pass. Spread her gifts around with the rest and she will have NO IDEA how many presents she received compared to her siblings. You are the one keeping track, not her. Trust me on this. You will thank me later. (And so will your bank account). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. From an early age, have siblings make/buy/give presents to gift to each other. </b>One of our family's greatest joys has been watching our kids unwrap gifts from each other. Priceless. We make this time a priority on Christmas morning as we take turns giving out our family gifts. We all ohh and ahh over what the kids give each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We keep this simple. This could mean a trip to the dollar store (I often do this with my 5-year-old boy because I'm teaching him all about money) where your child gets to select one gift for each brother or sister. It could mean your 10-year-old wrapping up her favorite classical novel and writing a special note to gift it to her younger sister. We use this as a beautiful way to talk about the generiousity of St. Nicholas and keep our hearts focused on giving rather than receiving. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. Give "family"and "sibling" gifts that the kids have to share.</b> Does giving one gift to a crew of four crazy kids sound like a nightmare? Before you think I am completely off of my Christmas rocker, hear me out. Teaching siblings to share a gift is one of the BEST WAYS you can grow your children's love for each other and foster a sense of family unity. This could be as simple as gifting a set of Saint books or a few family DVD's with a big bag of popcorn and M and M's to eat together. The goal? We, as a family, SHARE this gift. Everyone together. This year our kids are getting a really neat outdoor mesh swing to use together. Have them unwrap these items together and then talk about how to share them (and no, the family gifts do not count toward your individual tallly!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. Be honest with your extended family about gift-giving.</b> This one is the HARDEST one for me because I never want to hurt anyone's feelings! But the more Christmas Craziness I have endured, the easier it has become! Ideally, aunts and uncles and in-laws will take the time to ask you (and not your kid) if it's appropriate to give certain gifts to your crew, particularly to help avoid giving duplicate gifts. And because your family rules on what types of gifts may be acceptable could be different than the givers, it's always best to ask first. This eliminates a world of stress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But if they don't? No reason to sweat. The standing Christmas rule for most extended family gatherings? Your kiddos will almost always leave with a boat-load of gifts. This is a blessing. Do not fight this! Which is also the reason for Christmas rule #2! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6. Gifts do not need to be expensive to be super special. </b>My husband and I do not spend a large amount of money on Christmas gifts for our kids. In fact, during the past few years we have been giving less and less. But with the less we give, Christmas has become even more enjoyable. Decreasing the number of gifts and increasing the time spent opening and enjoying each present has become a win-win for everyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>7. Take a household inventory BEFORE you shop. </b>Do I have any gifts I've already purchased and hidden away? What toys are my kids currently playing with and which ones have they been ignoring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Our rule at this house? Before we ADD, we RELEASE. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We give many unused and tossed-aside things and clothes away in the weeks leading up until Christmas. Mamas, have your kids pitch in on this task. Don't go it alone. Releasing what we don't need provides space in our homes and hearts to help us get ready for the birth of our Heavenly King.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Because household clutter? </u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>IT KILLS THE JOY OF CHRISTMAS. </u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My friends, in our shopping and decorating and wrapping, </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>we do NOT want to miss Jesus this Christmas.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So this weekend? Instead of hitting Target (again) searching for that perfect present? Choose instead to focus on giving the gifts that are priceless. That have meaning for your children's heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The best gift you can give your children this Christmas? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Your lap. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Put your feet up and call the little ones around to climb warm and close as you open the Holy Scripture and share the story of our Savior's coming. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Because the gift of salvation? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My friends, if we take the time to share that present now...</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>our children could be unwrapping that gift for all of eternity. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">May God Bless. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-85131579866404560082016-11-15T11:02:00.000-08:002016-11-16T07:36:13.328-08:00When Jesus Asks Us To Trust Him With Our Children...And Why We Should. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was Day 13 of fever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">High fever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tip-toed out of her room and quietly shut the door. It was afternoon and I hadn't yet showered much less barely eaten. I was wearing my husband's sweatpants. Days old mascara and brown eyeliner crusted in the corners of my eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b> It was Day 13 and in that very moment, heat flushed across my face because I knew that this had become something serious. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked across the hall to Lacey's room. Threw open her second floor balcony door and felt the fresh November air beckoning outside. I ventured out. Slid my back down the white rails and plopped down on the dirty decking, feeling the sunlight hit my face. I looked straight up to see the wind rustling through the big oak trees surrounding our back yard. I felt the weight of this un-named diagnosis, this mysterious "thing" that was wrecking heavy on my tiny daughter's body, sitting heavy on my shoulders. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then I closed my eyes and started to pray. Started to petition. Asking for wisdom. And like a dam, my heart gave way. And even though I knew that every symptom and troubling blood-work marker and growing rash and persisting high fever was pointing down a scary road, I was not afraid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>But the unnamed needed to be named. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The pediatrician had already sent us to the Emergency Room once. There we found infection, but no cause. An ultrasound revealed a swollen abdominal mass, but no definitive diagnosis. With no real answers, we were sent home to wait. And everyone around me was troubled, but I had this ridiculous peace. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But now, in this serene moment on the back porch, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I knew that this unnamed illness had to be discovered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>She could not continue another day like this. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that's when God's whisper swooped in. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On that balcony, I was reminded yet again of the truth that this mothering journey has most taught me. That this child is a gift. That God is in control. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And that yes, even though it feels impossible, </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>He loves her even more than I do.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And if we as mothers really believe that? It changes everything doesn't it? The truth in believing that the Creator of the Universe is holding my daughter's life in His very hands. That He knew the very second she would be conceived and formed her in my womb and orchestrated the very moment of her birth and holds the secret of the day she will leave here to be forever with Him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There in that moment, I gave him Annabelle yet again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Holding up my hands, with my palms wide open, holding her loosely. Remembering that I am not in control. Receiving great comfort in knowing that my Heavenly Father is the master of the sea and the sky and of my girl's very heartbeat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Master of the disease taking life away from her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I rocked and cried. And rocked and cried. And repeated, "Jesus, I trust in You. Jesus, my Redeemer, I trust in You." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Beautiful song words that I had memorized came deep and slow, </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"You are bigger than all my fears. God of love. God my love. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">You are bigger than my dreams. God my hope. God my peace. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Whatever will come my way, through each day, I will say. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">God I trust you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then He told me gently, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"It's time to go, Jodi. You've waited it out long enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Trust me. It's time to go. Now." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I got up and wiped my face and took a deep breath, knowing even though I was exhausted, I was ready to do what the pediatrician had asked us over and over for the past three days. Asked us after another round of blood tests showed a scary high white blood count and high platlet markers and disturbing liver numbers. Asked us when she had stopped putting weight on her legs as warm rash ascended on her limbs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It was time to take her up to the Johns Hopkins Emergency Room. Time to discover, like the labs suggested, it was cancer. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I crept back inside and checked on our two-year-old miracle. The baby I was never supposed to have. The one I call "grace". I have come closest to our Lord since her birth because I've needed Him so desperately to mother this tribe of four. And she's asleep, but her face is the color of a white sheet. The fever and sleepless nights and lack of nourishment have taken a toll on this 28-pound body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I silently walk downstairs. My eyes feel so weary. I think about what to pack and how to make arrangements (again) for the other three kids knowing the hospital can be a black-hole, a time-warp. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And right then. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My phone rings loud. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It startles me. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I see her doctor's number and I suck in a quick breath. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But I'm not prepared for what he wants to tell me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Jodi, have you left yet for Hopkins?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I whisper no. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Good. Because we have news."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"That baby is fighting an infectious disease. But we know what it is. Her Lyme Titer was positive."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I hit my knees. The phone is still in my hand, but I use the other hand to cover my mouth. To fight back the sobs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Annabelle has a pretty severe case Jodi. But I'm glad that Lyme Disease is what she has. It's not cancer. And the best part? If we get the medication into her right away, she will make a full recovery." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And I have not cried that hard in years. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tears of joy and tears of thanks and tears of gratitude for God's picture-perfect timing. Tears, thankful that we found out what she was fighting at home before we headed up to the hospital again, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">be poked and prodded yet again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Tears that my child will find some relief from fever and rash. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That she would walk again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Relief flooded my heart. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Tears of gratitude that the unnamed, had a name.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"You are able to provide. You are faithful in perfect time.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Your goodness overwhelms. I am held.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Through the fire, you're my shield. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Your protection never fails.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">No power can separate. I am saved. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">You are bigger than all my fears. God of love. God my love. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">You are bigger than my dreams. God my hope. God my peace. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Whatever will come my way, through each day, I will say. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">God I trust you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">I am yours. Use me Lord. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">You are the God who always sees us. Even in bare and desperate seasons. You are rock on which I stand."</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-25555955638498424592016-10-24T10:31:00.002-07:002016-10-25T10:41:51.760-07:00When your kid(s) need you - and you have other things you (really) want to do....<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm writing this today...because I need to read THIS today. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bhc-MmKlO4k/WA5FVVpq19I/AAAAAAAABZs/8hnAMdeZR6c-mVCGcOZf8HVKgvXIGl5CQCLcB/s1600/12963795_1004497979600121_6026388372944171984_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bhc-MmKlO4k/WA5FVVpq19I/AAAAAAAABZs/8hnAMdeZR6c-mVCGcOZf8HVKgvXIGl5CQCLcB/s640/12963795_1004497979600121_6026388372944171984_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I was looking forward to this morning, Monday morning, all weekend long. Mondays are my favorites. Back to routine, back to school, and I get to regroup and reorganize and hear myself think for a few quiet hours in the afternoon when the littlest naps. Mondays are almost like this Mama's "weekend". After the morning rush to school, it gets a lot quieter around here. Just one kiddo in tow, my pace can slow. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">But this morning, my daughter needed me. Her heavy, leg cast was making her knee throb and her little eyes looked tired from getting fitful sleep. "Can you keep me home, Mama? Please? I just want to be around you. School is so uncomfortable." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">And she's never asked this before and I know the answer already that yes, I should let her and her broken ankle stay home (again), but I pause because this is MY MONDAY. I feel like I have nothing left to give. So spent from the weekend and so behind on the things I want to get done. Little, stupid things. But things that matter to me. Things that I like to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I walk into the mudroom. Get down on my knees. My hubby is loading the other kids in the car. The toddler is feeding our dog her oatmeal. Lacey is crying softly in the other room. And I ask the Lord for wisdom and patience and love that I just don't seem to have in my own soul. And I hear His Word of redemption and grace flood warm over me. And I remember, on a whim, what I had taped to our fridge just a few days prior. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Reminding myself that the Church doesn't teach we should pray to the Saints, but petition them on our behalf. That in the same way those of us living are bonded by the blood of Christ, so too our bond will not be broken in death. Just as I would and do ask you to pray for me here on earth, I have the blessing of asking God's beloved in heaven to pray for me too. To take my requests and offer them up our Lord, as they sit at His feet in eternity. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;"><u>Memorare</u></span></div>
<span style="color: cyan;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">"Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known, that any one who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought they intercession, was left unaided. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins my Mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">but in they mercy hear and answer me. Amen." </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-46532081876776485242016-09-21T09:49:00.003-07:002016-09-21T09:49:30.348-07:00The legacy we want to leave our daughters...<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My stomach flip-flops when people </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">ask my girls the question,</span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> "So WHAT are you going to be when you grow up?" </span></span></h1>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kDhNg7Tj2M/V-K57TmGZiI/AAAAAAAABY8/C0RdDIFGF2AljXpeGtlgTl9bFk9HkEHsACLcB/s1600/IMG_0281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kDhNg7Tj2M/V-K57TmGZiI/AAAAAAAABY8/C0RdDIFGF2AljXpeGtlgTl9bFk9HkEHsACLcB/s640/IMG_0281.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Because I've learned the hard way that pursuing the "what" is fine, accomplishment and education are well worth fighting for, but we are neglecting to teach our daughters that true worth comes from pursuing the WHO.</span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> And WHO do you want to be? </span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And WHOM do you want to LOVE?</span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Those are the questions we </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">should be asking our girls. </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And so I daily teach them, attempting to pound out what I've learned through experience and discontent and the laying down of </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"dreams" to chase bigger ones: </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">that making the choice to mother, whether through womb or heart,</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; font-style: inherit;"> is worth striving toward. </span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">That God has gifted each of these three daughters of mine a beautiful heart and unique set of gifts which can be poured out as a gift back to Him. </span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So girls? </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dream BIG. </span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But LOVE even bigger. </span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><br /></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/passionatemothering/" style="border: 0px; color: #003569; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">#passionatemothering</a> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/stayawaketolove/" style="border: 0px; color: #003569; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">#stayawaketolove</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/teachasyoulive/" style="border: 0px; color: #003569; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">#teachasyoulive</a></span></span></h1>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-69524826149516572232016-08-09T11:40:00.003-07:002016-08-09T11:47:21.984-07:00Where to go on the days you want to stop being a Mama...<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3huynWNytQ8/V6oi_nBap4I/AAAAAAAABYg/wTUCTrMNCIkiVCNQIHPj4C7zsZsSS0hvQCLcB/s1600/IMG_8154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3huynWNytQ8/V6oi_nBap4I/AAAAAAAABYg/wTUCTrMNCIkiVCNQIHPj4C7zsZsSS0hvQCLcB/s640/IMG_8154.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I have a confession. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When I woke up this morning, I no longer wanted to be a mom. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I just wanted to be Jodi today. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A woman. By myself. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Someone without four, small, human attachments. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">No parenting. No teaching. No cooking. No tidying up legos and playing horses and kicking soccer balls around the backyard. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Quite frankly, right now? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I feel done with this whole "Mama Mission" thang.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I need someone to take over. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm surrounded be littles ALL DAY LONG. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm wiped. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Tired of making meals, only to clean up again. Tired of wiping down the high chair and the toilet seat. Tired of teaching kiddos how to treat each other kindly, tired of seeing nerf gun bullets flying by my head as I burn scrambled eggs and tired of helping make pillow forts only to take them down and make them again. I'm tired of cleaning up spilled dog food and patiently helping little hands collect chicken eggs. Sick of laundry and more laundry. Oh, and discovering the "oh I forgot to tell you Mama" wet, muddy clothes in the upstairs bath tub. I'm tired of the mess. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This morning? I didn't want to be a Mama.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But then I force myself to get up.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I DO make breakfast and we all clean up together. My oldest, she sees I'm tired and offers to wipe down the high chair and I let her help. Even though she doesn't clean it that well, I'm thankful that she sees a need. She hugs me close, "I love helping you Mama, because I'm loving the Lord by serving you." The middle kids and I feed the dog together and Lacey patiently shows Tripp how to handle the kitten. We put on our boots and tromp out to the chicken coop. My littlest squeals with delight as we gather purple and brown chicken eggs. I help her (again) on the potty. She asks me to sit close so I can watch. "Be near me Mama. Stay near me please," she begs. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And there I sit on the cold tile bathroom floor, watching this little one grow up. It's only 8:30 am and we have already lived a full day. I have HOURS of mothering to go before bedtime. And I start to pray. Telling Him, the One who breathed life into these four littles, that today I just don't have what it takes. That I'm tired. Ready to quit. And that right in this moment, I want out. Out of the responsibility of motherhood. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And He whispers loud, "It's ok to feel that way, Jo....It's ok.....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I. SEE. YOU. AND. YOU. ARE. MY. BELOVED." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And even as I write this, this truth that is so overflowing that I have to write it down, I feel my eyes brim over. Because today? I need to be seen. To be encouraged. To be reminded that this mothering vocation matters. That I belong to the God who SEES ALL and cares about every dish that is washed and every moment I stoop down low to hug a fussy child and every time I run her to the potty again. He sees the hours spent molding children's hearts and the purposefulness in teaching them to how to love each other. He knows just how much work this is. How exhausted I am. He knows what it's like to pour out everything for another. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He did it for me. Because He loved me THAT much. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And confessions like mine? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They don't make me a bad Mama, even though I feel like one today. They make me a Mama who desperately needs Jesus. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">His Grace. His Love. His Patience. His Parenting. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And so right now, I'm off to put on a movie for the big kids and crawl into my bed with a hot cup of tea. I'm gonna fire up the heating pad and curl up with my favorite book.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I need to read a love letter this afternoon, and I have one waiting for me from the Heavenly King...</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-54976555401830126522016-07-27T06:26:00.004-07:002016-07-27T13:56:52.504-07:00For The Greater Glory...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHzMVuyPnIc/V5i88j2x0DI/AAAAAAAABX4/utvyGSKuH5owILxOaXQPOCgLbn6TnYHcwCLcB/s1600/hey%252C%2Byou%2521%2Bsave%2Bthe%2Bdate%2521-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHzMVuyPnIc/V5i88j2x0DI/AAAAAAAABX4/utvyGSKuH5owILxOaXQPOCgLbn6TnYHcwCLcB/s640/hey%252C%2Byou%2521%2Bsave%2Bthe%2Bdate%2521-2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I purchased it for one dollar. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The subtitle caught my eye, </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">"<i>What price would you pay for freedom?</i>" <span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Marker Felt'; font-size: 33px; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wluaqEJLfos/V5e3ew8ek_I/AAAAAAAABWY/Rno6W9tiRKIW7U9ZLuzgR7Fb64svecRQACK4B/s1600/C%2Bfor%2Bgretear.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wluaqEJLfos/V5e3ew8ek_I/AAAAAAAABWY/Rno6W9tiRKIW7U9ZLuzgR7Fb64svecRQACK4B/s640/C%2Bfor%2Bgretear.jpg" width="454" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I scooped it up and threw in it the cart, piled high with dollar-store tooth brushes and packages of colored construction paper. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It sat, wedged there between the cans of cheap, smelly kitten food. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought it was a cowboy movie. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Something mind-numbing to watch. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Best dollar I've ever spent.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The drama follows a group of impassioned Christian men and women fighting against the Mexican government who is persecuting the Catholic Church, causing a violent civil war. It chronicles the Cristeros War (1926-1929); a war by the people of Mexico against the atheistic Mexican government. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a gripping tale of the people who rebel </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">against the anti-clerical laws. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">To squash the outcry, the Mexican military moves through the countryside, arresting those who will not swear allegiance </span><span style="font-size: large;">to the country. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Slaughtering priests who still insist on saying Mass. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A few nights ago, my hubby and I sat with a big bowl of buttery popcorn on our lap, as we watched the true story of the Cristero War, the daring people's revolt that rocked 20th Century America. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We were glued from the opening scenes.</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A</span><span style="font-size: large;"> young, troubled teenage boy, Jose, is taunting a priest, Father Christoph, by throwing fruit at his head. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His consequence for disrespecting a priest? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The boy is required to spend time at the Church, serving Father. This elderly American priest takes this boy under his wing and does something so simple, so profound, that it changes this young man's life and his eternity: Father Christoph loves him, messiness and all. Jose's heart starts to melt under this kind of affection. True love has that affect doesn't it? Love like that walks side by side, not to condemn or berate, but to witness. To lift up. Pure love believes the best. Sees the best. And inevitably, this kind of love cracks open heart to surrender to the soul of our One True Lover, Jesus Christ.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Even amidst the persecution, Jose begins to train as an altar boy. Understanding the danger, Jose gives his life to Jesus Christ. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But his joy is short lived. Militants ride in, searching for the priest. Jose begs Father Christoph to save himself. He finds </span><span style="font-size: large;">Father kneeling. His face turned toward the Eucharist. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Padre, the military is coming. Please Father, you must hide.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> Come with me. Please." </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Understanding the danger, Father Christoph remains eerily calm. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He takes the boy's face in his trembling hands. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8FfBuNrCiRg/V5e4TLV-ojI/AAAAAAAABWg/PuKIlnZCADMZFtx5KDoPzVb08WSm-WdsQCK4B/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8FfBuNrCiRg/V5e4TLV-ojI/AAAAAAAABWg/PuKIlnZCADMZFtx5KDoPzVb08WSm-WdsQCK4B/s640/images-3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Hide? I'm too old to hide. Will I hide from God? </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">This is my home. I am safe here. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Who are you if you don't stand up for what you believe? </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">There is no greater glory than to give your life for Christ." </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Father Christoph places his rosary around the boy's neck. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Embracing and kissing him. Blessing him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He commands Jose to run.</span></div>
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</span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKTTpXqotKI/V5e4YTz4xBI/AAAAAAAABWo/ldWPkWpdAugY4yygOAxtXE2blX0SdRnfgCK4B/s1600/images-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKTTpXqotKI/V5e4YTz4xBI/AAAAAAAABWo/ldWPkWpdAugY4yygOAxtXE2blX0SdRnfgCK4B/s640/images-6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jose weeps and hides, watching in horror as his beloved mentor is marched outside of the Church and bound in front of a stone wall. Although Jose is hidden from the guards, he looks on the scene from above. The two friends lock eyes. Together, they whisper the rosary as the elderly priest is executed at gunpoint. With the priests words ringing in his heart, Father Christoph's protege will never again be the same. And neither will history.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jose runs off to join the Cristiada, a renegade group of men who are determined to regain their religious liberty to worship their Catholic faith again. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Led by General Gorostieta, an atheist, civilian military leader, the Cristiada stratigically fight back against the persecution. Gorostieta is mesmerized by Jose's faith. The boy's dedication to the Catholic sacraments makes a tremendous impact on the General who has never believed in God. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ubcllDH-Q/V5e4fbUBCBI/AAAAAAAABWw/qsGcU4CElX8sUoHnYnWryOrPBwhiFqQuQCK4B/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ubcllDH-Q/V5e4fbUBCBI/AAAAAAAABWw/qsGcU4CElX8sUoHnYnWryOrPBwhiFqQuQCK4B/s640/images-1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jose is captured. Tortured. Promised to be released if he will simply denounce his Catholic faith. I had to shield my eyes as this brave 15-year-old boy lay strapped down, feet and hands bound, at the mercy of an evil military officer slowly slicing open the bottom of his feet so that he would turn his back on The Church. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Still, Jose did not give in. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQDkxY3RyHA/V5e4oYjiy_I/AAAAAAAABXA/aaOE-6S6r08yf2b2ThQrhcovpS6nZjhSgCK4B/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQDkxY3RyHA/V5e4oYjiy_I/AAAAAAAABXA/aaOE-6S6r08yf2b2ThQrhcovpS6nZjhSgCK4B/s640/images-2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QmJVZ1ppsDY/V5e5AzYXpYI/AAAAAAAABXY/Eh5fYDer6xIJf4yoUVYD4fqgzBqQLzZ4gCK4B/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QmJVZ1ppsDY/V5e5AzYXpYI/AAAAAAAABXY/Eh5fYDer6xIJf4yoUVYD4fqgzBqQLzZ4gCK4B/s640/images-5.jpeg" width="624" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Feet dripping with blood, a band of Mexican military mane march Jose to the center of town, stand him next to a shallow grave. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OXcCEkNekzg/V5e41NQsLNI/AAAAAAAABXI/8WKyYIcz7Pk9UHTCSvl0HhUpxQGElzRWQCK4B/s1600/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OXcCEkNekzg/V5e41NQsLNI/AAAAAAAABXI/8WKyYIcz7Pk9UHTCSvl0HhUpxQGElzRWQCK4B/s640/images-4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">With his parents looking on, Jose has one more chance to save his life by denouncing the Church. He chooses eternity instead. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk69e4pjSHw/V5e46JQf1VI/AAAAAAAABXQ/uWFvGSEr4gs6qxSwklD8iYqOzfIfkIF3QCK4B/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk69e4pjSHw/V5e46JQf1VI/AAAAAAAABXQ/uWFvGSEr4gs6qxSwklD8iYqOzfIfkIF3QCK4B/s640/images.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gorostieta's life is transformed as he witnesses the faithfulness of Catholics in the face of persecution. Blessed Jose Luis Sanchez del Rio was declared a martyr by Pope John Paul II and beautified by Pope Benedict XVI in November of 2005. In January, Pope Francis attributed a miracle to him, blessed Jose will become a saint on October 16th of this year. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cHEBMvag_54/V5e5n1cH78I/AAAAAAAABXg/-w-qfJ-O26AHG06zMEo5X28eLi53exh0ACK4B/s1600/1466hoffmangrea_00000000892.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cHEBMvag_54/V5e5n1cH78I/AAAAAAAABXg/-w-qfJ-O26AHG06zMEo5X28eLi53exh0ACK4B/s640/1466hoffmangrea_00000000892.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"You know what's amazing?" </i>My hubby whispers as the credit rolls. <i>"Is that this could somehow start to happen again, this type of persecution against Christians could happen around our World, during our lifetime." </i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I nod my head, too stunned to say anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Certainly this...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THIS type of Christian persecution could not happen in 2016...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have been praying that very line ever since. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And this morning, I'm breathing heavy on the treadmill, when my eyes scan over the huge TV screens hung nearby. The headline must be a sick joke. I almost forget to keep running. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Because there it is, there bold across the screen. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Breaking News: ISIS Opens New Front of War on Christians. Is attack on a Catholic French Church, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">slitting the throat on elderly priest the first step in </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">fulfilling terrifying barbaric plague?" </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And this afternoon, I read how it happened. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My eyes blur wet as I scan the account of how this 85-year-old French priest is forced to fall to his knees in front of ISIS. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How he is executed at the hand of Islamic extremists. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Killed because of His allegiance to our Holy God and His Church. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And how the last words Jacques Hamel heard before his throat </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">was slit were, "Allahu Akbar". </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"For two years, the black-clad jihadist army has called for attacks on Christians in Rome, throughout Europe and across the world. It has even called for the assassination of Pope Francis. The attack -- which the knife-wielding ISIS killers reportedly videotaped -- in the northern French town of Saint-Etienne-du-Rouvray shows Islamist killers have heeded the call."</i></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">http://www.foxnews.com/world/2016/07/26/murder-french-priest-brings-isis-long-threatened-war-on-christians-to-europe.html</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm writing this today as a reminder of truth:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">that yes there seem to be shootings everywhere lately, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and yes ISIS is real, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and yes there are evil people out there who want to wipe Christians off the face of this Earth...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But do you want to know the real truth? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">WE ARE NOT AFRAID. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">WE BELIEVERS ARE NOT AFRAID. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Because we trust in the One who has already won the war. </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So these little battles, yes, they break our hearts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We weep for the slain priest and the young boy who was murdered because of faith and the men and women who bravely serve their Church in midst of persceution. We continue to fight for our religious liberty and for the Catholic faith. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We will not hide and we will not run. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">But today, as you see what's happening around the world,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">you dare to whisper the doubt you hear down deep...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do I REALLY believe in Jesus Christ if I admit I am scared that my faith may lead to persecution? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Is my walk with God strong enough that if I was faced with the choice to defend my life or lie and save my life, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I would the One who has already saved my life?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, my friends. And yes again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because even Blessed Jose was scared too. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He whispered it several times to those around him.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But admitting his fear didn't make him cower. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It made him a vessel. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And his fear? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it was frightening. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But it took a backseat to his LOVE FOR CHRIST. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because Blessed Jose knew he was redeemed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Already saved by the One who gave his life on the Cross to so that he, and we, might have the security of knowing eternal rest. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So on the days you feel scared to be a Christ follower? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Take those moments to our Lord. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Because He promises His perfect love casts out fear.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>ALL fear. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our fears are diminished in the shadow of the Cross. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The truth we have been promised by the Creator of the Universe? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>WE WILL OVERCOME,</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>because we SERVE THE GOD WHO ALREADY HAS. </b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-70115096138515682822016-07-07T09:55:00.004-07:002016-07-07T09:56:13.801-07:00Our July memory verse...for the ENTIRE family...<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">This. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now, THIS is going up right now, taped to the fridge. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We desperately need this WORD today. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because it's hot and we are "searching" for things to do and we have so much to learn about love in this house. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And daily reciting and memorizing this command into our hearts? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Yep, THIS is what can give us the motivation we need to "outdo" when we'd rather undo. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Amen? Amen. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-26836179101105487962016-05-20T07:23:00.004-07:002016-05-20T07:32:33.795-07:00What to do when you want to take on the world...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fT9muDdT0W4/VvA4aDrLFgI/AAAAAAAABUQ/h7vncKL3HtgVOLNpN3Qn7hXO-bjUTHaRg/s1600/passionatemothering.blogspot.com-6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fT9muDdT0W4/VvA4aDrLFgI/AAAAAAAABUQ/h7vncKL3HtgVOLNpN3Qn7hXO-bjUTHaRg/s640/passionatemothering.blogspot.com-6.png" width="451" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "big caslon"; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I'm a big picture girl. A dreamer. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "big caslon"; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "big caslon"; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I've always been the one to get things rolling. Certain, solid foot pressed down hard on the gas petal, when others are hitting the brake. My eyelids open in the morning and I'm ready to go. Ready to move. Itching to get out of the house and get "living"...</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 24px; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And so Sister-Mamas, please know as I write this, that it is coming from a heart who is constantly trying to reign her ambition in...That what I am learning, what I am about to share is not written from a high pulpit but from a lowly perch.</span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">In truth, I’m struggling today with my calling. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
I'm writing this right now. </span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because <u>I</u> need to read this right now.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
I was on a run last summer, (no, for the sake of depicting the scene accurately, let me rephrase that and try again…) I was on a "shuffle" a few nights ago (my lame attempt at exercise) and the Lord whispered something so mighty deep to my soul that I looked down and had actual chill bumps cascading down my sweaty and mosquito-bitten arms. He was sending me a heavenly reminder. Maybe you need that same one right now? </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had my worship music turned up loud in my ear phones. His Word was penetrating loud, drowning out my noisy panting for clean, night air. It was late, after 9 pm, I think when I left the house, the puppy teetered to my side (yes, I was that desperate to get the heck of out my house and have some alone time that I went running). I was finally by myself and pouring my heart out to the Lord in desperate prayer. Drowning in the housework and the heart-training and the high-chair cleaning and the play-doh mess, I felt like my soul was screaming.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /><i>
"I have so many dreams dear Jesus. Things I want to do for you and for your kingdom...but I have such little time and absolutely zero energy at the end of each day. I'm frustrated Lord! So confused as to why you would give me these passions and yet no space to answer their call. What are you asking me to do Lord? Where shall I serve? Guide me Lord. Speak to me...."</i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
Days prior, we had just moved into a "new" property. We’d poured our sweat and money into an old farmhouse that took nearly six months to gut and renovate. Our stuff was everywhere. Boxes piled high in every room, random picture frames stashed in piles, toys unorganized cascaded the floor and bright, colored beach towels temporarily covered every dirty historic windowpane until we could fine the right type of window treatments for every room. I had half-organized our kitchen supplies, we were eating off of Happy Birthday paper-plates (again) because we hadn't yet unpacked the dinnerware. My (first-ever) pantry was screaming to be organized, full of snacks and half-eaten cereal boxes and spices and cake mixes somewhere squeezed in-between the bandaids and coconut oil. I felt chaos in my gut and in my home. Whoever said "moving is fun" (my words) was smokin' crack (my words and yes, I am married to a real estate agent and we flip houses together).</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
My days were so full. But I felt a constant tug away from where I was needed most. My husband was busy building and training a real estate team, and asked for my help. I was also serving as a ministry coach for parish programs around the nation and there were so many women who were on my heart. Women who I desperately wanted to "pour" into. </span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span>My email inbox was overflowing full with invitations to speak at various churches to share my testimony. <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I was excited at the possibility of each ministry “yes”, that would take me to churches around the east coast, but struck sharp with the reality of what those yeses would mean for my family. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My "tribe" of 6, four kids under the age of 9, was requiring a lot right now. Like, an around-the-clock-and-sometimes-all-night-lot-and-I-barely-am-keeping-my-head-above-water a lot. I had one kiddo with head to toe poison ivy (yes, the "upside" of buying three acres!), one teething and dripping with beautiful snot, one with a bull eye's rash on an antibiotic with suspected Lyme disease and another - well, another simply age 7 and super needy with two loose bottom teeth (which required constant wiggling and examining). You catch my drift. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
My hubby and I had skipped our (mandatory!) Friday-night date night for the past few weeks because we had used every free minute to pack and move. Those missed times of connection were taking a toll.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
But on my night run, I wasn't praying about THOSE things.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
Instead, my list rattled on as I told God each dream and each goal and each piece I wanted to write and talks I wanted to give and the Bible study I wanted to compose to share the news of Jesus. I told him how desperately I wanted to have more hours to pour into women-leaders around the country who are shouldering the "holy discontent" of bringing Bible Study into the Catholic Church. I had scribbled down notes on a brainstorm I had earlier in the week to write and host a gathering for Mama-Daughters, as we studied the Saints and applied their life lessons to our own hearts. I was brimming with ideas, restless with creativity, and feeling trapped in the monotonous activity that was needing attention in our home. I was bombarding God with my frustrations that my gifts were going unseen and my dreams unmet. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
And that's when God whispered it. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Whispered. It. Loud.</span></div>
<div style="color: #ff40ff; font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Want to know your mission right now? Get your household in order Jodi. Take. Care. Of. Your. Tribe.</span></div>
<div style="color: #ff40ff; font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And let me take care of the rest.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
<div style="color: #ff40ff; font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
I need you to serve here, at 101 Somerset Rd, and get things in order, before you can serve out there. And THIS WORK is just as important.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was the honestly one of the most audible times I have ever heard the Lord speak to me. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I don’t always have a stellar tract record of obedience, but in this case I did. I turned my body back toward home. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><u>But first, I had a good, long cry. </u></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><u><br /></u></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This was not the answer I was hoping to hear. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But after the run, I broke-through our red front door re-energized because I knew what I needed to do. I returned a kind “No” to each speaking invitation and then quietly crept upstairs to sit by each of my sleeping children, kissing their warm foreheads and covering them in prayer. For this past year, I have continued saying “No” as each new “ask” has filed in, knowing every "No", however painful, is a "Yes" to my family. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And peace has abounded. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Most of the time. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But today? I am restless again. I've found my heart dreaming big. And on the home front? Yes, there is still much to be done. Laundry to fold. A sticky fridge to wipe down. Birthday presents to wrap and floors to be moped (does a quick vacuum-through count for this? I say yes!) I have one kid recovering from a broken ankle and another on antibiotics. A contractor is banging outside, busy replacing two of our old, dilapidated windows. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">3 pm school pick-up time is coming quickly and the Lord is reminding me that yes, those chores are important and they will get done. But most important? That my heart is in the right place when my kids come running in to my arms after school. And the only way to do that, is not to get too irritated and discouraged that I am “stuck” here? It’s to fall at the feet of Jesus. Again. Right. Now.</span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And those dreams? I take heart in believing His Word that they will come to fruition. In HIS time and not my own. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal; min-height: 31px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Big Caslon'; font-size: 26px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So again today, I offer Him my heart. As I ask for His love to fill my soul, as I kneel on the smudged, kitchen floor. (and also, it would't hurt if He'd send me a cleaning lady!?) </span></div>
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-33077132861191609242016-05-10T12:17:00.000-07:002016-05-10T12:19:37.872-07:00Why pictures remind me...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yTQfwDwz66o/VzIywE9puvI/AAAAAAAABVc/tDbrXZlQZJcSRBBEFiRKdxrrLPEyNgp0QCLcB/s1600/photo-16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yTQfwDwz66o/VzIywE9puvI/AAAAAAAABVc/tDbrXZlQZJcSRBBEFiRKdxrrLPEyNgp0QCLcB/s640/photo-16.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Remind me dear sisters...remind me when, and if, I make it to be "old and gray", remind me of this one glorious and wonderful life which I have been gifted. Remind me of the fullness and joy of mothering a small tribe. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because I am busting-at-the-seams-thankful for my vocation today.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I believe that the pains of every child's pregnancy and labor and the warmth of each smile has been well worth the sacrifice of giving up things out "there" to serve "in here".</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But on those days I forget? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">May pictures like these, of a day like today, remind me of my mission...that choosing LOVE has eternal value.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Amen? Amen. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-69064884175855188672016-04-29T12:03:00.001-07:002016-05-02T05:55:59.820-07:00When you have the fullest day...and where to get your strength. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sPKjyMBz6kM/VyOvrC3d9bI/AAAAAAAABVE/dbi3kEhjhUgQT9SBGvzR7_D49t6fTLlOQCLcB/s1600/Where%2Bgod%2Bis%252C%2Bthere%2Bis%2Blove%253B%2Band%2Bwhere%2Bthere%2Bis%2Blvoe%252C%2Bthere%2Balways%2Bis%2Ban%2Bopenness%2Bto%2Bserve.the%2Bworld%2Bis%2Bhungry%2Bfor%2Bgod..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="536" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sPKjyMBz6kM/VyOvrC3d9bI/AAAAAAAABVE/dbi3kEhjhUgQT9SBGvzR7_D49t6fTLlOQCLcB/s640/Where%2Bgod%2Bis%252C%2Bthere%2Bis%2Blove%253B%2Band%2Bwhere%2Bthere%2Bis%2Blvoe%252C%2Bthere%2Balways%2Bis%2Ban%2Bopenness%2Bto%2Bserve.the%2Bworld%2Bis%2Bhungry%2Bfor%2Bgod..png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Today has been so full for me. </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And my confession? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The amount of mothering required</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">around here today is busting well over what I alone am capable to give. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">I'm flat out spent and brimming over with invitations to serve.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">My house, and my heart, is full.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Full of runny noses and hacky coughs. Of doctor visits. Of measuring out equal shares of Motrin and more motrin. And rubbing the head of a sick husband. And "emergency" runs back to school to pick up a(nother) sick kid during lunch (after I had just put the toddler down to nap). </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Today there was a special ankle doctor appointment for a limping kid. And frantically making dinner and burning vegetables for my hungry tribe. There was cleaning up fallen spaghetti noodles and spilled ginger ale, and warming up gallons of chicken noodle soup. There was uncompleted math sheets and squeaky recorders and dogs who ran wild and muddy over our clean, hardwood floors. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Today, I have not had one moment to myself. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Not one stinkin' minute to pause and think any adult thoughts, much less use the bathroom without someone wanting to sit on my lap. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Today has been one of my fullest days in so long. </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>But the best thing? </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>In the midst of this chaos even though I haven't been able to pick up the Holy Scriptures or steal away to silently pray? </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Today has been so full of Jesus. </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because I’ve needed Him at every turn. Needed his patience with a 2-year-old, as she took off her pants and underwear again and again (hope this isn't a sign of what's to come). I've been desperate for His kind voice, to replace my own, as I cared for a feverish husband (honestly, these men are worse than the kids!). Today, remembering that my face does not belong to me but to my Creator, I asked for His smile to replace my own, as I cuddled an complaining, ankle-braced kid. I needed His grace to love-on a daughter who insisted she and her crutches stay within an 18-inch radius of me ALL DAY LONG. I relied on His strength when my body felt so tired and sore from bending and cleaning and being up all night with sick kids. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: blue;">"I am the vine, you are the branches. </span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: blue;">Whoever remains in me and I in Him will bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing."</span></i><span style="color: #222222;"> John 15:5 </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And when I've needed Him most? Jesus has shown up today. When I fail so often as a mother and wife? Praise God, when I invite Him into the mess, He never lets me down. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">"</span><i><span style="color: blue;">The one who is in you is greater than the </span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: blue;">one who is in the world."</span></i><span style="color: #222222;"> 1 John 4:4 </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And as I sit here briefly to write...I get the chills remembering something I just read yesterday. This blessed saint's words come flooding back to soothe my soul. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because that's what purposeful, daily time away with our Lord does for days like today...Carving out that effort to study and spiritually grow, fuels our hearts with Living Water when the fire comes. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Real prayer is union with God, a union as vital as that of the vine to the branch, which is the illustration Jesus gives us in the Gospel of John. We need prayer. We need that union to produce good fruit. The fruit is what we produce with our hands, whether it be food, clothing, money or something else. All of this is the fruit of our oneness with God. We need a life of prayer, of poverty, and of sacrifice to do it with love. </span></span></span> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Sacrifice and prayer complement each other. There is no prayer without sacrifice, and there is no sacrifice without prayer. Jesus' life was spent in intimate union with His Father as He passed through this world. We need to do the same. Let's walk by His side. We need to give Christ a chance to make use of us, to be His word and His work, to share His food and His clothing in the world today. " (Mother Teresa "No Greater Love" Pg. 11 and 12)</span></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">So, my dear Mama-Sisters, I want to quickly steal away to write something down for you and me to read when we are in the thick of it, one days like today. I'm writing to you, the one opening this up on her I-phone or hiding out under the covers, reading late at night on her laptop. A mother, whose children may be 2 or 22, just so tired from what you've faced today and so longing for encouragement. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Invite. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Jesus. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>In. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>He's a gentleman. And He's waiting for you to ask. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I share this, because this truth has changed this girls life. You have been right by my side through all of this. This hard everyday loving when we feel like we have nothing left. And I am so glad it will be you, next to me and my sister Diana, up sitting all comfy in big ol’ rocking chairs, next to our own Mamas, whole and without blemish, as we rock and sing in eternity together at the feet of Christ. (PS- We <b>will </b>be able to take long bathroom breaks up there. I promise.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: blue;"> "S</span></span><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">o then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">His</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> good pleasure. </span></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Do all things without grumbling or disputing;</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world,</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">holding fast the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I will have reason to glory because I did not run in vain nor toil in vain.</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all.</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">You too,</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I urge you,</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">rejoice in the same way and share your joy with me."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Philippians 2:12-18 </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Today has just been one of those days. </b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>One I NEVER want to forget because </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>I have experienced Jesus so deeply</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And my dear friends...I want to remind you just how MUCH Jesus loves you today. You are His beloved daughter. Marinate in that truth right now, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">just as I am in this quiet moment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And now I'm off....because a sick kid is calling my name from the other room! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In His Grace and Protection, Jodi </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-42085454781832940472016-04-04T10:57:00.003-07:002016-04-06T09:37:37.961-07:00A(nother) note to myself...Never. Ever. Will. I. Do. This. Again. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dear Self,</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Please NEVER, ever drive your kids to school dressed only in your PJ's. It's simply a bad idea. One you will regret. Forever. </b>You will swear that nobody will ever see you and that it doesn't matter that you didn't take the time to put on a bra or that no one will notice that you are wearing your husband's sweat pants. Do not believe the lie. This is simply not a good idea. You will arrive to school and upon opening the back tailgate of the vehicle will hear screeching and screaming as your kids' book bags, lunch boxes and water bottles fall out. They will thud unto the asphalt. The avalanche will nearly take out your five-year-old. Your kids will yell for help. Your help. But you will look down and remember you are dressed like a homeless person and so you will pretend you don't hear them. Like the star mother you are, you will crouch down in the front seat on the Denali praying back-up help will arrive (which it won't), as the carpool line backs up behind you. You will then feel like crying as you look in the rear view mirror as a dozen basketballs and loads of coloring books (that you meant to bring inside last night), birthday wrapping paper (emergency roll), two potty seats (on their way to Consignment) and a slew of talking Transformers (now the kids know that THOSE are heading to consignment) also fall to the street. You will realize you have no choice. You will have to get out of the car. The whole world will see your pathetic PJ's (way to go Jo!). Parents will start to (nicely?) honk as you hold up the carpool line. When in doubt next time, please at least just throw on a pair of workout leggings and a sports bra. Trust me. This memory is now worse than the day your Mom allowed you to wear your Dad's tie to middle school with a buttoned down shirt (while telling you what a wonderful trend-setter you were. God bless my Mom's heart...) Please change out of your PJ's next time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. If you are going to drive your kids to school dressed like a homeless person, NEVER stay in the regular drop-off line. Get off the beaten path and be incognito. Park as far away from the school as you can and make the kids walk. </b>This is not cruel. It is called wardrobe survival. Because if you don't, you'll end up in front of that cute Mom of two, who is dressed for the gym, with gorgeous blonde highlights and a sparkly clean car. It will be inevitable that she is the one who pulls up in the drop-off line behind you and witnesses what a hot mess you really are (when you sometimes hope to fake it in front of her, at least every once in a while). To the Mama reading this, you know who you are, and yes, I still love you and your manicured hands! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. After you drop the kids off at school, NEVER allow your just-turned-two-year-old to sit just "ONE TIME" in her big brother's booster seat "for the fun of it" as you run errands. </b>This spontaneity will sound like a great idea at the time, until you look back in the rear view mirror to see her sliding horizontally, all tangled up in the seat belt. Because she is three rows back (also NOT a good idea) you will attempt to reach her but will feel miles away. She will wait until you merge unto a major highway to quickly learn how to unbuckle herself. You will panic and politely ask her to sit down still. She will scream back a lovely "NO!". You will pull off into the nearest WaWa parking lot to save her life. Getting her strapped back into the regular car seat will NOT be as fun as it was putting her in the booster and she will scream and flail like she is being locked up as you patiently try to explain that this is HER seat and the booster was just for one time, to which she has no idea what you are saying (because for crying out loud she is only 2!) and becomes even more irate. Just because she's your fourth kid, doesn't mean you have lost your mind (even though it feels like it most days). Get control of yourself Mama. Never again let her sit in the booster until she's ready for the booster seat. Nough said. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. For the love of mothering ....NEVER EVER pull into your home driveway after school, look at the pile of junk sitting next to you in the passenger seat that has accumulated throughout the day and think, "I'll clean this up tomorrow." Tomorrow will come in the blink of an eye and the stash will take on a life of its own. Please take the time, right there, to clean your car out. </b>If you need a reminder why to follow this rule, please reread number one. Right now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. NEVER think it's silly to take the time to teach your kids, especially your second child, WHY and HOW to use the new family trash can (I know, yes I'm type A and this might sound extreme but girls, some car changes MUST be made around here).</b> Today, as you are cleaning all the crap out of the back of the car (to avoid this morning's debacle of ever happening again) you will find the following "treasures" tucked away, back by said child's corner of the vehicle; a wad of chewed chewing gum, a half-eaten yogurt with dried up granola (enter gag reflex here), a rock hard string cheese, an assortment of small rocks (obviously gathered, aka "stolen", from various parking lots around the tri-county area) and finally, four perfectly sculpted swans made from tin-foil courtesy of school lunches (am I a bad Mom if I throw these away? Because they were actually quite good. And what if one day she becomes a famous artist and this was the evidence of the beginning? Don't worry. I took a picture and then in the trash bin they went!). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6. NEVER, ever assume dropping off the kids at school will go smoothly.</b> Someone will spill their water bottle. Someone else will complain that you forgot to sign their Tuesday folder and will shove 47 unsigned papers in you face as they exit the car, while another will peak inside of their lunch bag to learn they don't have roast beef on their sandwich but instead dreaded "disgusting" turkey (hence the new "fun" rule that I made up this morning that we do not, under any circumstances check-out the contents of our lunches before lunchtime in the cafeteria. Isn't it fun to be surprised anyway?) Everyone will arrive singing and laughing as we pull into the school parking lot, but as they open the door, it never fails that one child will trip or fall or get knocked on the head by the door and end up crying. Someone will say "unkind" words to someone else. Hair ties will come undone. Shoe laces untied and you'll realize that one kid escaped the house without matching shoes. Never think morning drop-off will be easy and then you won't be disappointed. Just prepare for the worst. Give up all hope of a seamless drop-off and you'll be much happier.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>7. NEVER take for granted the gift of having a live-in morning school chauffeur (aka-your husband). Thank God in heaven that your dear husband drives the kiddos to school everyday. And after you've thanked him once? Thank him again.</b> Because after driving the crew to school just one morning this week, you will realize what a good man you married (and also remind him just how lucky he is that he never has to remember to put on a bra...)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-32742506620182535242016-02-28T16:51:00.000-08:002016-02-28T16:51:39.363-08:00Storm. Sand. And unlimited Sammy Sosa's...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qDo1lBWoGwA/VrOWYjQgFdI/AAAAAAAABTI/uLZ-vU9_Iys/s1600/Why%2Byou%2Band%2Byour%2Bhusband%2Bneed%2Ban.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qDo1lBWoGwA/VrOWYjQgFdI/AAAAAAAABTI/uLZ-vU9_Iys/s640/Why%2Byou%2Band%2Byour%2Bhusband%2Bneed%2Ban.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Our flight was canceled. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The one we were supposed to take ALONE on Sunday, </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>out of the country to our tropical get-away.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We rescheduled. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Then that flight was canceled too.</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The snow was on its way, in a just a few days, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> and the state of Maryland was in a pending panic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Skim milk was no where to be found. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only whole-wheat bagels were left on the barren grocery shelf. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The local airports shut down DAYS IN ADVANCE.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But yet not one snow flake had fallen from the sky yet...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I had spent the last two weeks getting ready. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cooking double meals. Making sure every drop of laundry was done. Toilets scrubbed. Drafting carpool lists. Praying I wouldn't be an emotional wreck leaving my littles as we headed out to the Dominican Republic. I cleaned out a part of my closet so she put her clothes away for the week she was staying here with our tribe. Of course, in my vacation prep, I found myself cleaning out every drawer, because what if, just what if, she needed a pencil sharpener or a razor or a battery or a swiss army knife (back story there) and couldn't find one (enter counseling here...) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">(Side note, if you're dragging your feet on cleaning and organizing your home? Just invite your Mother-in-law to babysit for a week and suddenly you will sort out your underwear drawer (cause she will certainly need to look in there...enter sarcasm and also more counseling here), label the pantry snack bins, and clean under bookcases that have never been cleaned before.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"We're going on vacation, Jo. You aren't dying here. Just going away for one week,"</i> my hubby teased. The men? They just don't understand what we go through! Amen? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I know you Sister-Mama</span><span style="font-size: large;">s get it. Because if you have ever left little ones at home to get away for a day or a weekend or (gasp here) even one whole week, then you know it takes HOURS of preparation to leave our kiddos in the care of someone else. In fact, my first thought when I heard both of our flights were canceled was to think, "Well after all this work I've done to get the house ready, now I want to stay home and relax next week!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>But my husband was going. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dead set on getting the heck out of dodge. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No two-foot snow storm was going to keep him from warm sand and an all-inclusive tiki-bar. Normally I have been the one to insist we go but this time he was on a mission. I knew he was serious and desperate to get away from here when I overheard him securing a rental car and back-up plan that had us driving 15 hours to Miami to catch an international flight out there. It all seemed a like a little too much to me, which is why I gently suggested we rebook our trip or just wait to go another year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But that's why I'm writing today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To remind myself that the next time I have an opportunity to go somewhere, ALONE, with him, no matter how stressful or busy or snowy it is...I SHOULD GO. And should your husband plan a trip for the just the two of you? And you are faced with obstacles that seem to come out of left field too? Overcome my sister-Mamas! You should go too! The health of your marriage depends on it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hurriedly packed our bags that evening. Our "DeeDee" gave up sleep and drove over here around midnight so we could head out, days before our scheduled trip. We didn't sleep at all that night. Drove the 2 and a half hours to catch the last flight out of Philadelphia, direct to Punta Cana. We barely beat the blizzard. I had no idea what I had even packed in my suitcase, it was such a whirlwind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What an adventure! It was stressful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it was pure heaven. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As soon as we landed, the warm sun hit our faces and I was so grateful he insisted we still come. Within days, it felt like we were back to being 15 years old again. Back to when we laughed at each other's jokes and kissed long and held hands all day. Responsibility seemed to melt away and we clung to each other like we haven't in years. No kids. No jobs. No women's ministry. Just us and unlimited refills of our new favorite drink, the "Sammy Sosa". We swam and ate. We took really long, beach walks. Played tennis. We drank. We ate more. And read. And ate again. And drank more. And....did many other things that helped us feel 15 again! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The time away was such a blessing. When we landed on the Dominican Republic, my husband grabbed my hand and asked if he could lead us in prayer. My heart beat fast in my chest. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Dear Lord, help us do two things on this trip. Help Jodi and I to be individually refreshed. Give us good sleep. Help us recover. But also help us reconnect with each other. Show us how to love each other better. Amen." </span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">On our trip, I was really convicted of how much care and energy our marriages require if they are to flourish. Ours had hit a dead spot, not because we didn't care anymore, but because there were (and are) so many things fighting for our attention. All noble things. Board positions and basketball coaching jobs and Bible study leader and field trip organizer. At the end of each day, we seemed to have nothing left for each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm praying that I can be purposeful in making sure my husband no longer get my "left-overs". Our vacation reminded me of a quote I heard recently saying, </span><span style="font-size: large;">"Action Expresses Priorities". </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>ACTION EXPRESSES PRIORITIES. </b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Where is your husband on your priority list? He is buried at the bottom under the laundry and the kids homework and shuttling kiddos to and from rec ball practice and piano lessons? Is your husband getting your "best" today? Is he getting anything positive from you? I know that often my answer is NO! I am too tired, too frazzled, or just too distracted to really give him the attention he needs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But most of us, God willing, will only have ONE HUSBAND in this lifetime. In what other life will we go ALL OUT in loving him? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And so if you have the chance, get away with your man. Pronto. Start planning. Start dreaming together. An overnight at a local dive hotel can work wonders if a week away is just impossible right now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Be intentional. </span><span style="font-size: large;">But make the effort. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The priority of your marriage? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's worth taking action on today </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(and maybe even getting a little sunburned!) </span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-83006395497924508952016-02-16T10:36:00.000-08:002016-02-16T10:36:11.419-08:00Read. This. Before. Tomorrow. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-COEbHbe2S64/VsNmhkQ8UlI/AAAAAAAABTk/PrNGtsZ_S1o/s1600/passionatemothering.blogspot.com-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-COEbHbe2S64/VsNmhkQ8UlI/AAAAAAAABTk/PrNGtsZ_S1o/s640/passionatemothering.blogspot.com-3.png" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Always get all four kids dressed for the day BEFORE they come downstairs, even on a snow day. Otherwise, it takes three times longer if you attempt to dress them later and all morning you feel like you are working backward.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. No matter how good of an idea it sounds like at the time, do not let said kids climb into your queen size bed and watch an hour of cartoons (as you attempt to doze) before feeding them breakfast. Meltdowns are inevitable. No one will eat. You will end up giving in and giving them full reign of Aunt Diana's and DeeDee's "generous" Valentine Candy bags because you can't stand the whining. Sugar highs will follow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Under no circumstances should you get a dog. He will chew up Lacey's Harped Seal science fair project and then escape out of her bedroom balcony door with the beloved stuffed, white seal animal in his mouth (torn from the science mobile). She will cry. You will want to cry. We will all go out in the snow, half-dressed, and chase this lovable dog. This never ends well. For anybody.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. When you have scheduled your day around driving to your parents house to help "nurse" your Mom as she recovers from surgery, and your Dad calls early that morning to say you no longer need to come. Go anyway. Your Mom needs you even though your Dad thinks she's "fine". And he will call you back later and beg you to come. Stick to your plan. Visit your Mom first thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. It's ok to tell your kids that they can NOT play in the snow and not be a mean Mom. Snow tracked through the house by wet socks and drippy pants (the same pants that just took us 30 minutes to all put on) is enough to drive this Mom crazy at 10 am. You are not robbing them of a wonderful childhood experience by saying no to the snow for just ONE DAY. Stay strong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. When your two-year-old darling, who is just learning to talk, gets mad and tells you to "Shush it!" and then after you won't give her the juice box she's begging for, follows up with, "You're mean!". Don't shrug and think, "Well, if three out of four of these kiddos turn out alright I will settle for that..." Please, take the time and energy to correct her. Not give her the juice box.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. At the end of this day, if you reread this post and feel drained, hang in there. Pour a giant glass of red wine, wrap your unshowered body in a down blanket and crawl into bed. Text a good girlfriend who will hopefully remind you that regardless of numbers 1-6, you are still doing alright at this mothering thing. Because in just 7 short hours? Mama, the alarm will go off and it ALL begins again...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-81378953203743226142016-02-04T09:58:00.001-08:002016-02-04T09:58:30.859-08:00Thursday's Prayer <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm_tbF394mM/VrORL1K_pnI/AAAAAAAABSE/r3mQdWi_8Is/s1600/Mountain.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm_tbF394mM/VrORL1K_pnI/AAAAAAAABSE/r3mQdWi_8Is/s640/Mountain.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-47338272732785713602016-02-04T09:27:00.001-08:002016-02-04T09:27:30.184-08:00A day in the life of a mother...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0Oc7pUNkGE/VrOJg8LncRI/AAAAAAAABRA/9qLbm8Oonmo/s1600/photo-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0Oc7pUNkGE/VrOJg8LncRI/AAAAAAAABRA/9qLbm8Oonmo/s640/photo-12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is how I got through the homework hour tonight. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Seriously. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My daughter, trying to get my attention, </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">snapped these pictures.</span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Here is my witness. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The five-year-old stuck to my lap and the two-year-old with one arm draped around my neck and her other hand plugging my nose while she whispered little words and giggled in my ear. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">And tonight, after Latin chants and recorder ballads and timed multiplication tables, when I felt like loosing it? </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I smiled big and laughed out loud, looking up and thanking God for each of these four lives I've been entrusted to mother...because this really is a privilege isn't it? </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">An honor to pour into hearts and mold souls and be called "Mama". And after my brief prayer? </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My Mama-Sisters, you know me well! I poured myself a big ol' glass of wine BEFORE serving dinner! </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">To all the Mothers who are out there and tired tonight...hang in there. What you are doing matters. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".2.1.0.0.2.1.0.0.1.0" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Because mothering matters. </span></span></span></h1>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCJVLeDInyA/VrOJguW8nXI/AAAAAAAABQ8/Qu-vNWngvOM/s1600/%2523passionatemothering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCJVLeDInyA/VrOJguW8nXI/AAAAAAAABQ8/Qu-vNWngvOM/s640/%2523passionatemothering.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-85482893874783131312015-11-11T07:07:00.003-08:002015-11-11T07:09:37.259-08:00How mothering grows us just as much as our children...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6fTJfmaZfq4/VkNaJ5WfLyI/AAAAAAAABQQ/LoIg3pqZXjU/s1600/Elizabeth%2BElliot-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6fTJfmaZfq4/VkNaJ5WfLyI/AAAAAAAABQQ/LoIg3pqZXjU/s640/Elizabeth%2BElliot-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-20225324131737528202015-11-09T11:12:00.001-08:002015-11-09T11:12:11.616-08:00Monday's Main Course...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tbC_BXDpAvY/VkDv8b81j5I/AAAAAAAABP0/Hf7ukHpmVWo/s1600/children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tbC_BXDpAvY/VkDv8b81j5I/AAAAAAAABP0/Hf7ukHpmVWo/s640/children.jpg" width="464" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-87695266092337576182015-09-16T18:36:00.002-07:002015-09-16T18:36:45.219-07:00What to do when your kid is acting out...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qr9XSd-7DAo/VfoZCpXsceI/AAAAAAAABN4/cJ_Q0QdCfTg/s1600/time%2Bmatters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qr9XSd-7DAo/VfoZCpXsceI/AAAAAAAABN4/cJ_Q0QdCfTg/s640/time%2Bmatters.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-90174294061948371052015-08-23T13:52:00.002-07:002015-09-16T18:41:57.094-07:00Breaking-up is hard to do! <div class="_1dwg" style="background-color: white; padding: 12px 12px 0px;">
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 1.38;">Dear Summer of 2015,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's been fun...and this is hard for me to write when we've had such a great time, but let's keep it real...I'm ready to move on. I know. I know. Breaking up is hard to do. But we ended school in mid-May (thanks Lighthouse Christian Academy) and don't start back up until after Labor Day (yes, even though I am far from a math-wiz that adds up to almost 15 weeks of summer).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's just both be honest. Four kids (and a puppy) home all summer long has been a joy (said with my best forced smile). But I'm flat out done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Summer, we need to break up.</span></div>
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Don't get me wrong<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">, we've had good times I'll cherish forever. But like they say, all good things must come to an end. (Insert reality check here: I have three weeks left until the first school bell rings).</span></div>
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We've hit the beach and spent hours building pillow forts. Lathered sunblock all over little bodies until we cried (me included). Picked off deer ticks and made trips to the ER. Trips to urgent care. Adjusted swim goggles. Cried over swim googles. Thrown swim goggles. </div>
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We've stayed up late and ate hundreds (no exaggeration) of pancakes (for breakfast and dinner). Caught fireflies and rode horses and dug in mud holes. We've read the entire children's section of the local library (thanks Classical Education). We've baited crab pots and took late-night boat rides, house trained a puppy and ran circles through the sprinklers. We went to basketball camp and played mini-golf and laughed during boardwalk rides. VBS? Check. Swimming at Meme's? Family beach vacation with 26 (yikes!) other people? Check. Check. Check. It's been a ball. Really it has. I have the pictures to prove it!</div>
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But it has to stop. We must break up. I need my brain back (and my bathroom, which is scattered with kid toys because let's face it, throwing one and/or all of the littles into the bathtub at 3pm has saved this Mamas life on some rainy summer days). I've been so accommodating, so "fun", so flexible...but I need to get back to having some sanity around here. I miss the structure where bedtimes are set and lunches packed and I can go to the bathroom without being asked to tie (another) rainbow loom bracelet RIGHT NOW. </div>
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So, I'm making this short and sweet. </div>
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And, yes, I apologize to all the other Mamas who I've judged in the past who "complained" about the l...o...n...g warm months and their kids being home. I thought I'd never be THAT kinda Mom. After all, my tan hubby and I thrive during summer and all of her sunny glory. We love and live for the calendar to show June- August.</div>
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But this year? I get it. I. REALLY. GET. IT. (I'm hiding out behind a tree in our backyard right now writing this I'm so desperate.)</div>
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So, Good bye Summer. It's been fun...<br />
Love, Jodi<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-20544557522813651432015-07-17T11:21:00.001-07:002015-07-17T11:36:04.246-07:00One thing you'll never hear me say...<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro'; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3S72KheQykY/VVPwi8yiyKI/AAAAAAAABKY/DCjEoybOK0s/s1600/Why%2BI'll%2Bnever%2Bsay....png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3S72KheQykY/VVPwi8yiyKI/AAAAAAAABKY/DCjEoybOK0s/s640/Why%2BI'll%2Bnever%2Bsay....png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><i>"You will keep in perfect peace</i></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><i>those whose minds are steadfast,</i></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><i>because they trust in you."</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><i>Isaiah 26:3 </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I get flat-out asked all the time.</b> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">In the grocery store line. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">At the end of Bible Study. When the conversation falls quiet during a new play date. People watch me and my ravenous tribe, and then I get asked. The same question over and over. And I always pause long before I answer, reflecting on how different my response would have been years before, when I was asked the very same question.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"So, you have four children. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>You seem like you have your hands full. </i></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Are you done?</b>"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And my heart floods warm. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">And every time my answer leaves my lips, I feel a deep sense of peace wash over my tired body. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because how can I possibly answer what's in store for the size of our family, even when we feel at our max right now? How can I foresee the will of God and what life He might bring into our home now or years down the road? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Because if there is one thing I have learned from pounding out my learning on this blog, it is the Biblical truth that no season is permanent with God. </b>If there is one thing He has taught me, after cradling the fourth impossible and living each day to the full, counting His gifts to find joy, it is this - <b>God's will is fluid.</b> His plan is ever changing and surprising. What might feel like "done" for now, right now, can feel much differently tomorrow. Or next week. Or five years from now.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>And I praise my Heavenly Father that He knows my future, and I do not. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Because it wasn't too long ago, that the uncertainty of how many and when, the "unknown" about the number of children we would have, made me cringe. Peace was elusive and I sick at the uncertainty of my womb's future...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>When I close my eyes, I can see us sitting there, together, on that rickety wooden booth, over eight years ago. </b>Desperation and sloppy words pouring out of mouth. Deep soul-searching had led to heart-confusion, I was teetering back and forth, trying to balance on a slippery, dangerous point. Quite simply, I was having an interior meltdown about the uncertainty of my future. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I called him, my best friend and warrior-husband, out of work to meet me for lunch. We sat, with our untouched hot sandwiches, surrounded by noisy talkers and happy customers at one of our favorite Eastern Shore dives. There was no happiness at our table. Fast cars swirled by outside the restaurant window on the freeway. Their tires, humming fast, seemed to match my racing heart. Big tears dripped quietly into my vegetable crab soup as our oldest and only child, just turned one, sat babbling in the wooden highchair. I blotted at my face and stuffed crackers into the baby's mouth to keep her quiet. I felt ready to explode. I did explode. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">At the age of 26, I was so unsure of where this life, my one and only life, was headed. I admitted to him I felt like I had "so many dreams to live, ones that would go unfulfilled if we had any more children...". My husband reached across the table to grab my hand as I immaturely pulled it away. My serious tone scratched out of my tired throat. I was irritated. Confused. Flat-out-scared. I felt betrayed and surrounded by a big, fat, cloud of uncertainty. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">I felt desperate and my eyes begged him to make a permanent decision. I unloaded all the fear that had been circling my heart, <i>"I can't handle anymore babies,"</i> I confided. <i>"I think we should just have one. I'm not cut out for this. Mothering is SO much harder than I thought. Let's just decide and be done with having kids. Would you do this for me so I can move on with my career?" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And he understood what I was asking and saw how much I was struggling. He listened. He loved me so much he softly put his hand on my back. And because of that, He spoke gently, not wanting to hurt me. <b>But he loved HIM even more, so he was firm. </b>He remained steady. Principled. This man I had married, a man of conviction, formed his words slowly, looking deeply into my eyes. <i>"Take a deep breath, Jo,"</i> he whispered. <i>"You are a new Mama and you are tired and overwhelmed. You are doing a great job. You're a natural. Let's pray about this and be smart and responsible. But we can't make a permanent choice to sever our oneness. God wants us to remain open to His will...And we have so much life ahead of us."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But even though he's purposeful and very kind, I feel hurt. The tears fall even harder and I stay angry. We part ways and I squeal wheels in the parking lot because after all, don't I "deserve" this from my husband? As I drove, my heart actually hurt at the idea of uncertainty of our future. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"I need to know now. Right now. Need to know if we are "done" so I can get on with my life, so I can get back to working,"</i> my words, directed heavenward, came harsh out of my mouth. But I needed answers. I was desperate for peace. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I hated the fact that I secretly yearned to return to my "adult" life, the one where my days weren't centered around nap schedules and baby food and patiently instructing a toddler who could barely talk back. Surely, this "secret" meant I was not cut-out for this whole mothering thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I spent the rest of the day fuming at my husband, and his conviction, because I didn't yet understand. Did not understand where God was on this whole family-planning thing. And I wasn't happy with my husband's answer. So I asked more. I read more. I sought council from church goers and Jesus followers and family experts. But their answers were conflicting. Permissive with an absence of depth. No proof from Scripture. No hard evidence to convict this retired-news-girl who needed hard fact for truth. As a teen, I had thrown myself head-first into following Jesus, wherever He may lead. But on deciding how to handle contraception and how many children to have? I felt like He was silent on this issue. Unclear and silent. As I spoke with another pastor, his evasiveness in giving guidance on this issue left my skin crawling. <i>"Whatever is best for you,</i>" he said. <i>"Just do what feels right."</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Before we were married, during a portion of our pre-marital prep, I remember sitting in the office of my childhood pastor who looked from DJ to me and then asked, <i>"So, the final question is WHAT type of birth control are you going to use?" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We shrugged our shoulders and squirmed in our seats. Back then, something about that question just didn't feel right for two people who had waited to share their bodies and their lives until marriage and two souls who were ready to give themselves, their whole selves, to each other fully. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> But what did God have to say about this? Didn't He give me free will so that I could decide? After all, this is my body, my career, my life. Did God have an opinion on birth control? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>"A child is God's greatest gift to the family, to the nation, to the world. The child is a life from God, created in the image of God, created for great things, to love and to be loved." Mother Theresa</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br /></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I didn't know what God wanted from me, but I did know one thing. A</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">fter a day of mothering just one child...I was spent. Exhausted. Overwhelmed and bored in the same day. I look over at a sister-friend herding a brood of five kids at Church and I couldn't possibly wrap my head around that life. Those long days. How can you even have time to have a conversation with each kiddo every day when you have that many, much less make sure a toothbrush gets into their little mouths each night before their heads hit the pillow? Surely I could NEVER handle more than one, maybe two kids...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I knew that loving this little one was hard and exhausting and mind-numbing at the same time. I battled the daily lie that I was ill-equipped. I felt like my gifts and talents were going unused. I felt unseen. Because of these inadequacies, surely this meant we should decide NOW and be purposefully finished. Done having babies.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Days later, I'm pouring over Psalm 143, and my eyes linger on verse 8. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i style="color: magenta;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i style="color: magenta;">"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love. For I have put my trust in you. Show me the way you should go, for to you I entrust my life." </i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I flip open my journal, finger through the scribbled pages which chronicle my journey with the Lord, and I begin to scratch out my irritation about my struggle when I hear the Lord whisper to me, <i>"You read this and you say you believe....but do you trust me Jodi? Do you really trust me? If you say that I am the giver and sustainer of life. That I breathe in life and am the One who takes it away...do you not believe that I know what is best for you? That yes, maybe this mothering thing is hard but you don't have to try so hard to do it on your own. I'm here. I want to help love through you. I want to grow you closer to me through this struggle, in the midst of these questions. There are answers. Come to me. Rest in me."</i> And as I hear His voice, I breathe deeper and feel my shoulders fall. Because His Words of peace and comfort illuminate the struggle of my heart. A constant, twisted wrestling for the need of control. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i style="background-color: white; color: magenta;">"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-large;"><i style="background-color: white;">will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91: 1-2</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Attempting to control this life is just...well, just plain exhausting. Gripping, crawling with control is the opposite of what life looks like when we are participating in a full, transparent relationship with Jesus Christ.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But surrender? Whisper that word and the need for control shrinks back. Yes, surrendering is what has saved this girl's soul. Surrendering deep and climbing into His lap is where I find peace, and there, only there, blessings abound.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In those days I would start to learn that I had a choice. Not a choice to "decide" where my life would head and know exactly how many lives I would love, whether I birthed them or simply opened the front door and let them in, but I had a decision. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Either I would believe that God is who is says He is. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Or I would not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Either I would believe what the Church teaches and the Bible confirms and the Saints live - that God is infinitely wise and infinitely loving - or I would live for myself, trusting my own needs and living independent of something greater than my own desire.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Either I would believe Romans 12 and offer myself fully, as "<i>a living sacrifice" </i>emptying my life out each dawn to be filled up each warming hour by the only One who can satisfy or I would shrink back, holding tight to what I thought was best. Wrestling with control. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Either I believed that I could trust the One who gave His life for me and trust He knew what was best for my life, or I could not. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And after I'm convicted by those verses, D.J. and I (because Jesus in his goodness allowed me to marry THAT kind of man) we begin the nightly habit of praying together. Faithfully going before the Lord and asking Him for peace and purpose. And creating that type of habit? It transforms my heart. Deep conversation with the Lord and time in his Holy Scripture grows our dependence on Christ. Blossoms our marriage. I weep asking the Lord, the author and giver of all life, to help me trust and be open to His plan for our family. No booming lightening or loud-speaker announcement comes. Just a consistent, warm peace started to saturate my heart. And we wait to make a permanent decision. We live and enjoy this one daughter and remain open to God's plan. And as we waited, I grew a little each day in confidence in my mothering. In purpose in knowing that my life was not identified by what I accomplished, but by how I loved. I learned to find my satisfaction not in the things of this world, but in the hope of pouring into a child who would one day make the decision to give her life to the same Jesus who saved mine. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>"God has created a world big enough for all the lives He wishes to be born. It is only our hearts that are not big enough to want them and accept them...We are too often afraid of the sacrifices we might have to make. But where there is love, there is always sacrifice. And when we love until it hurts, there is joy and peace." (Natural Family Planning Blessed Our Marriage pp. 36-40, by Fletcher Doyle)</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I thank God for the conviction of my husband because on that day, over eight years ago, when I called him having a Mama-meltdown, D.J. knew me better than I knew myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">He didn't know God's exact plan, my warrior-husband didn't know how many children we would end up with, he still doesn't know who or when we will welcome life in, but He knew just how much this God loves us and so DJ trusted the Church's wisdom on staying open to new life. He led boldly when I was wavering and so unsure. He knew following this God, believing in this Savior, had a cost. We would give up sleep and wrestle our will strong and sacrifice much. But discovering truth and eternal life was well worth the toll. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He knew me too. My husband knew months later, I would bathing our 15-month-old daughter and experience this incredible wave of desire coming over me, longing to have another child. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Desiring to gift her a sister and best friend. And as I watched bubbles cascading over her tiny body, I grabbed my stomach and looked up, suddenly knowing there was precious, just-weeks-old life brewing inside. It was if in that moment I caught a glimpse of what it must have been for Mary to be touched by the angel, smiling in her secret gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: cyan;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"She who guarded in her heart the secret of divine maternity was the first to see the face of God made man in the tiny fruit of her womb." </i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Pope Benedict XVI </i></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br /></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, I think my husband knew. He trusted God's plan and knew hidden beneath the lies, that I was ill-equipped and overwhelmed, lay a tenderness in my Spirit that melted with motherhood. He knew love would change me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> He somehow knew I would wrap my arms around him, so thankful he had not gone right out and come back "fixed" like I had immaturely begged. Knew I would cry with joy as we welcomed our second daughter, Lacey Marie. Knew I would take such great delight in teaching two girls how to love. He knew loving and mothering would transform me; grow me to have a deeper relationship with our Lord. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Knew, yes, there would still be some days of Mama-meltdowns and mid-day phone calls confiding this Mama-thing was tough. Too tough for me... But I would grow in love and praise God for this gift of mothering and how it brought me daily to my knees. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I would pray and petition years later for another baby, a son, to carry on my husband's name. That when Tripp's strong body broke through mine that warm October day, I would be forever changed. Knew that the kisses and the strokes of a blond-haired boy can do that to a Mama, can strip you to the core and make you feel love so deeply. Can break your heart and mend it stronger at the same time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And although my husband could not have known what was coming next and how I would be physically and emotionally transformed, he trusted God's Sovereign plan when everything around us looked bleak and the doctors were telling us to "retire" from having more babies. When it came time, in the final hour, to decide to try and salvage or save my womb or make the permanent decision to take it out, we prayed for wisdom, and had such peace we were making the right decision. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He knew God loved me so much that my Heavenly Father would not allow anything to happen to me, even horrific physical pain, if it would not drawl me closer to knowing Him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">That my suffering would be what saved me, because it drew me deeper to the Cross.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And perhaps knew the miracle would happen of carrying and delivering our baby daughter, our fourth child, after the trauma of undergoing a severe pelvic surgery to secure a prolapsed womb and drooping organs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And now I writing here, our littlest just 14 months and we are coming up for air in this house. After enduring my first C-Section, I whispered to the Lord that I just couldn't imagine going through this again. But suddenly, just the other day, I am struck with the sudden urge to have another. (No, .... I was not drinking...)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I wait. And I pray. And late one night as we are trying to fall asleep, I lean into DJ and ask for his wisdom. And again, his words hit deep, but they speak such truth. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"It's a no, Jo. A no for now. You have been through so much. It was a miracle to have a fourth baby after your surgery. I need to lead on this one. I need you. I need your attention and your love. These four kids need the best of you and another pregnancy right now is just too much. Let your body heal. It's so beautiful that because you have remained open to new life that the desire to carry a child is still there. It will always be there. Because you are a mother."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I start to cry. Because again, I am at that place of wanting to know the future and what God has in store. I want to have a definitive answer to, <i>"Are you done yet?"</i> in my own spirit. </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;">"The transmission of human life is a most serious role in which married people collaborate freely and responsibly with God the Creator. Humanae Vitae n. 1. </span></i></blockquote>
<i><br /></i>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And this...this spot...is a new place for me to be. When sister-friends are celebrating new pregnancies and I'm faced with what to do with all the extra baby gear and too-small clothes. When I get adjusted to this "new" (stretched out!) skin and am months away from not having to carry a diaper bag anymore (how fun is that?!).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And that is what is so beautiful about Natural Family Planning. Beautiful because it is not a one-time discussion or decision about the number of children (if any) to have. It is a LIFETIME of intimacy and discussion.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>"Catholics who have not heard a defense of the Church's teaching on contraception might be surprised how rich and full of common sense it is." Janet E. Smith PhD. "Contraception: Why Not?" </i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br /></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Following NFP creates a spring-board for openness and love and communication. It helps us respect and honor how God created our bodies and His Sovereignty. For us, it's living a way that keeps us from judging other marriages or other families but requires us to focus on our own marriage and family. NFP is a way to respect our fertility, our femininity without suppressing a perfectly "wired" ovulation system with manufactured drugs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Searching for God's truth on this topic has been life-changing. Life-changing. And the pit I was stuck in for years as I navigated these questions about how and when to welcome new life? The stay in that deep was well worth the freedom I've felt when I climbed out, grabbing one rung at a time, up the ladder that the Catholic Church dropped down to me. Some days, when things are harried and I'm tired and kids seem to be EVERYWHERE and into EVERYTHING I shuffle back closer to that pit and stand on the edge, looking down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But then I sit with a sister who is walking the same road, and she encourages me to keep pressing on. To be obedient to living how I know God is calling me to live. And where there is obedience, peace abounds. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And that kinda deep-soul-peace allows us to gently answer questions about our future with a hope and an openness. With trust. But with responsibility to each other and the children we already have. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">"With regard to physical, economic, </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">psychological and social conditions,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> responsible parenthood is exercised by those</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> who prudently and generously decide to </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">have </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">more children, and by those who, for </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">serious reasons and with due respect to</span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"> moral precepts, decide not to have </span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">additional </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">children for either a certain or an</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"> indefinite period of time." </span></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; line-height: 19.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: cyan;"><br /></span></em></div>
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<span style="color: cyan;"><em style="border: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; line-height: 19.2000007629395px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Humane Vitae</em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">n. 10.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Our house is busting at the seams and I've given up on keeping an organized shoe bin (yes, we could build an addition for all of the shoes), because that would be pure insanity. The laundry is always piled high and we often go through a cartoon of Almond milk at one sitting. Our kitchen table is overflowing with laughter and little hands and my hubby and I fall back into our bed each night exhausted from all the dishes and tight hugs and homework and instructing...brimming over from all the love that covers every corner of our house. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But are we "<i>done</i>"? Right now, I'd say yes! But for forever? I simply can't say. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And praise God I can't. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because everything and every life that He has brought into our married path has been SO MUCH MORE AMAZING than I could have ever dreamed. We are being purposeful and responsible in postponing another pregnancy for now, maybe for forever, but are open to what wind the Holy Spirit may blow our way, so thankful that should He tug our hearts we will be ready to obey. God is amazing ah? All the time. God is good.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Just last week, we sit across from each other, alone. Staring over tall glasses of red wine and brilliant, colorful plates of sushi. His eyes sparkle and he leans in closer. Grabs my hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"I felt a tug today Jo. Don't know if it was from God but this afternoon I felt led to read an article about a family that has adopted orphan children from around the world. Children who are missing limbs and missing eyes. Babies who are missing parents. And I wonder...maybe God has blessed my business so abundantly so that I might offer up my "extra" for a child in need...Maybe we should pray about adopting..." </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I bite my lip to hide my emotion. Hold close to my heart the tug my husband is starting to feel that I felt years ago. Because, again, we never know in this life where the Lord might lead. All He asks? For us to lean back and lean on Him. Trust Him. Seek him. Surrender to Him. He is faithful and will never let us down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And the greatest path to joy? Gratitude. Giving thanks in the now is what changes our hearts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm so grateful for each new life that Lord has entrusted to us and so thankful that my husband has guided me to be open for us to carry each of God's children. Because after all, they are our Heavenly Father's children anyway. We are a steward of these babies, a witness and a guide for these four beautiful lives. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">So my response when someone asks if we are "done"? I got it down sisters. I smile big and say, <i>"We will see. But we are so blessed with our four and feel really content where we are. B</i></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">ecause only the Lord knows. But we can't wait to see what's coming around the next corner...." (wink wink....)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="color: red;">Dear Jesus,</span><span style="color: red;"> Guide me in your truth. Teach me all of your ways. Help me to surrender my fertility to you, even when I am overwhelmed and scared. Encourage my heart to celebrate the gift of new life, of every new life. Thank you for making me a mother. Even if I have not carried my own children, you have still made me a mother. A spiritual mother. Work and love through me as I reach out and pull others to you. I give you my body. My womb. My marriage. My life. My soul. All that I have is yours Lord. Your beloved daughter, Jodi. </span> <span style="color: red;">Amen. </span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>“I know that couples have to plan their family and for that there is natural family planning. The way to plan the family is natural family planning, not contraception. In destroying the power of giving life, through contraception, a husband or wife is doing something to self. This turns the attention to self and so it destroys the gift of love in him or her. In loving, the husband and wife must turn the attention to each other as happens in natural family planning, and not to self, as happens in contraception. Once that living love is destroyed by contraception, abortion follows very easily.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>“I also know that there are great problems in the world - that many spouses do not love each other enough to practice natural family planning. We cannot solve all the problems in the world, but let us never bring in the worst problem of all, and that is to destroy love. And this is what happens when we tell people to practice contraception and abortion.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"><i>“The poor are very great people. They can teach us so many beautiful things. Once one of them came to thank us for teaching her natural family planning and said: "You people who have practiced chastity, you are the best people to teach us natural family planning because it is nothing more than self-control out of love for each other." And what this poor person said is very true. These poor people maybe have nothing to eat, maybe they have not a home to live in, but they can still be great people when they are spiritually rich.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: cyan;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">“When I pick up a person from the street, hungry, I give him a plate of rice, a piece of bread. But a person who is shut out, who feels unwanted, unloved, terrified, the person who has been thrown out of society - that spiritual poverty is much harder to overcome. And abortion, which often follows from contraception, brings a people to be spiritually poor, and that is the worst poverty and the most difficult to overcome.” (Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Address to the National Prayer Breakfast </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">sponsored by the U.S. Senate and House of representatives on 3 Feb 1994)</span></i></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-39323932851443466822015-05-21T17:14:00.002-07:002015-05-21T17:14:37.132-07:00Thursday Assurance <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeksqU11n98/VV500Nj18uI/AAAAAAAABK8/sqL8RpK4NlI/s1600/getyourbabyto%2Bsleep-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeksqU11n98/VV500Nj18uI/AAAAAAAABK8/sqL8RpK4NlI/s640/getyourbabyto%2Bsleep-2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-62973151981351576142015-05-13T17:31:00.003-07:002015-10-21T08:36:21.464-07:00#BecauseMotheringMatters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOJdtuJPgRQ/VVPsyh9ovrI/AAAAAAAABKM/hVSS4RlrboE/s1600/%E2%80%9CInstead%2Bof%2Bsqueezing%2Bin%2B%2Bmothering.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eOJdtuJPgRQ/VVPsyh9ovrI/AAAAAAAABKM/hVSS4RlrboE/s640/%E2%80%9CInstead%2Bof%2Bsqueezing%2Bin%2B%2Bmothering.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-85627934653811701882015-04-20T09:22:00.000-07:002015-04-20T09:22:03.406-07:00Why I bear my heart and write...<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">This blog is the learning…</span></b><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a country girl who almost drowned in seeking accomplishment, but was rescued by finding her true identity as God's </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">beloved daughter.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a workaholic, new bride who had to choose between her </span><span style="line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">commitment</span><span style="line-height: 36.79999923706055px;"> to marriage and passion for television news…</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a young mother clawing at control, surrendering her womb to </span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">welcome love and new life…</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a born-again believer,</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;"> who found her home in the </span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Catholic Church…</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a woman no longer hiding her postpartum pain, learning the secret of </span></div>
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">finding blessing in the brokenness… </span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a mother who daily marinates in the truth that her Heavenly Father loves her babies even more than she does….</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Of a desperate soul who felt restless, but found her voice again through writing and speaking to women…</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">This is my story. </span></b><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">My legacy of learning grace while growing children on an Eastern Shore Island. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">Because if there is one thing I have learned from mothering and ministering to women</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;"></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">it is this...</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">you do NOT care to</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;"> KNOW WHAT I KNOW,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;"> you </span><span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 36.79999923706055px;">WANT TO KNOW MY STORY. </span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-74606230952552914492015-04-15T09:16:00.002-07:002015-05-13T10:33:30.397-07:00Why your kid needs YOU to be her Mother...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JamsqIkjzmY/VS6L9qMxgPI/AAAAAAAABHU/LYf3EedHlDY/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JamsqIkjzmY/VS6L9qMxgPI/AAAAAAAABHU/LYf3EedHlDY/s1600/photo-9.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were so many days when I was a new mother that I thought about going back to work full time and putting my baby in some sort of childcare. Maybe my Mom could watch her all day? Full time Nanny? I could work nights and then be with my baby all day (aka-run myself ragged and never sleep again). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I funneled through the choices in my mind and scoured "Help Wanted" ads trying to find the perfect fit which would allow me the freedom to pursue work and also squeeze in mothering. In the beginning, I sometimes found "giving up" my career to be with my baby all day so discouraging, especially when I was surrounded by smelly diapers and unmade beds and loads of baby laundry. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">If you are like me, there have been days when I've easily rationalized why my kids might be better off with SOMEONE ELSE taking care of them during the day, especially on the days when taking care of littles seems mind-numbing, and long, and flat out tough. </span></b><span style="font-size: large;"> Especially on the days (when I convince myself) that it seems like so many other mothers leave their little children (without a second thought), while they drive away (by themselves, listening to the radio not veggie tales!) wearing clean clothes (I'm sitting here in sweat pants), off to conquer the world using their gifts and passions and brains (which if you talk to most of these mothers, this assessment is SO NOT TRUE, it is torture for them to leave their babies behind). And especially on the days when I feel like what I'm teaching them isn't making a lick of difference anyway. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">As mothers, it's easy to convince ourselves that someone could easily take our place. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hear the lie that there is someone out there with more patience, more grit, a softer tone, more consistent discipline...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the list can go on and on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We believe someone else can be a better Mother. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And so if you are sitting there, on the other side of the screen, and reading this as you constantly battle the urge to leave your kids during most of the days because you feel ill-equipped, or frustrated or that when they are this little (and napping so much of the day anyway) it just doesn't really matter who they are with all day because they will never remember this phase....</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Let me whisper some truth into your ears this afternoon.</u></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">When they are little, before they enter school, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">the majority of the day...</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Your kid needs a Mother. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">ONE MOTHER. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Your. Kid. Needs. You.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">There. Simply. Is. No. Substitute. Mother. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You, with your flaws and your short-temper and your disorganization and your tendency toward discouragement or perfectionism or need for hyper-control. You and your crazy "requirement" for Starbucks coffee or Chick-fil-A drive thru to survive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Y<b>our kid needs you as his mother. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>And when he's little,</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>HE NEEDS YOU THE MAJORITY OF THE TIME. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This idea of "quality" time is completely hog-wash. There simply is no replacement for long, uninterrupted hours spent with your child. Your boy needs quantity. For it's in the "unplanned" hours where the most opportunities to love are found. In the interruptions and unprompted conversations where you can best help mold his heart. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">He needs you, all of you. Fully present and engaged. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">And there is no alternate for you. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">And let me tell you why...</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I sit on her couch and she shows me the diagram and my eyes linger on the small child she's pointing to...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a picture of a baby, just starting to crawl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This ball of wisdom, sitting across from me, she's birthed eleven kids. Poised and professional, I am seeking her learned ear to help me mature and grow out of my struggle with anxiety. And she's wise and she speaks slow the truth that she has learned from both academic study and from being a Mama and now Grandmama all of these years. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"And here is what we KNOW to be true about human development. Your security and self-esteem starts to be established just moments after you are born. A baby naturally cocks his head and looks up. Opens his eyes and is searching for one thing. He desires to see the eyes of his mother. He desperately needs to know she is there. That she sees him. That she loves him."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I tear up for all the babies who never got this, got this gift of security and love and "I'll-be-there-for-you-no-matter-what-stare" back from their mothers. I shudder as I think about the babies, who just weeks new, look intently for their Mother's smile, for her face to be watching theirs, and get blank stares back instead. My heart races as I read the fact that a baby's eyes at just 6 weeks old, are only able to focus on an object 9 inches away. 9 inches. The exact distance between a baby's eyes and his mother's face, when he is laying cradled in her arms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A baby needs his mother. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your baby needs you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your eyes matter. Your arms matter. It is your gaze he longs to see. Your face he wants to touch when he's happy. Your lap he reaches for when he skins his knee or gets a boo-boo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And when she gets to this next part, it makes me feel a deep warmth in my spirit. I exhale huge relief at my own mothering choices and then say a quick prayer of thanks that I had a mother, a fully present mother, who was willing to give up in order to give to me. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"When a baby starts to crawl he initially only goes as far away as he can see his mother. Watch a baby do this. He moves and then pauses to look around. He turns a corner, but if he can't see his mother, he comes right back. He is always looking to see if she is watching. If she sees him. If she cares. Her presence and her applause is what gives him the confidence to keep going. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Keep exploring. Keep growing.</span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">But, the most interesting part that we've learned about healthy emotional development ? The baby isn't satisfied if SOMEONE NOTICES. Even if someone "loving" is there, a friend, an aunt, a grandparent...these people provide important relationships for a child later in life but in the earliest years? The baby is always looking for one particular person to notice him and what he's accomplishing. HE WANTS HIS MOTHER TO SEE."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">WHEN HE'S LITTLE, THE ONLY WITNESS YOUR KID CARES ABOUT IS YOU.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He wants your attention when he pee-pees on the potty. He wants it to be your voice reading him books before nap. You picking him after he's fallen (yet again). You making his lunch sandwich and tucking him in at bedtime and taking the time to sit to teach him how to tie his shoe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Your kids needs you.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Today I unloaded the groceries and then blinked twice to make sure I was seeing it right. It's there in bold letters. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjXqp8qXAb4/VTUlOvyvkgI/AAAAAAAABJQ/aaVINqsLESk/s1600/photo-11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjXqp8qXAb4/VTUlOvyvkgI/AAAAAAAABJQ/aaVINqsLESk/s1600/photo-11.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Play with your child 15 minutes everyday," </i>the grocery bags begs, with tips below on how to make that happen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My Mama-sisters, your kid needs YOU more than 15 minutes.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it's tough to remember this when we see Mamas plastered across tabloid covers and anchoring Fox News who say, </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Of course you can have it all. You have work 14 hour days and have three kids under the age of 4 and make your marriage work."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But when you read between the article lines, you see brokenness behind the claim. As my favorite female anchor recently explained what her tactic was on how to "reach" her three small children children, </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">I make sure I see them for at least 45 minutes each day. </span></i><span style="font-size: large;"><i>But it still breaks my heart how they all scream every time I leave for the day. </i><i>They seem to never adjust to me not being around most of the time...They always prefer their Mother. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My Mama-sisters, to raise healthy, confident, God-fearing kids...your kid needs you more than 45 minutes a day </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>when he's little. And he's worth the time. </b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Over the course of his life, he will have a ton of school mates, and excellent school teachers, loving family members and Lord-willing grandparents and special-friends, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">but he will only ever HAVE ONE MOTHER.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>AND THAT MOTHER IS YOU.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now let me pause and be clear - your little needs a HEALTHY Mama, not an exhausted, frazzled one. And this is where we put the judgement card down and celebrate each other as Mamas, acknowledging we all have different gifts and need different outlets to help us mother at our best. What works best for me, is probably not what will bless you. I'm not at all saying that we shouldn't work some outside the home (I do!) or hire a babysitter some (yes, a life saver for me!) or let the littles stay at the Grandparents every once an while so we can have a overnight with our hubby (I just did this a few weeks back and it was so helpful!). No Sister-Mamas, let's not take what I'm writing and get all black and white. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>But what I am saying, </b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>I think our generation of Mamas really needs to hear. </b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>Because I needed to hear it. </b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The days are long with little ones at home, </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>but the years are short.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So when you have the choice, PICK YOUR KIDS. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>When you are at a crossroads, choose your littles. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And yes, this requires constant sacrifice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like Winston Churchill said, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"It often means choosing not what is best (for you), </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>but what is required." </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Will you have to (often) say no to work promotions and picking up extra shifts and following headlines and sleeping in and bachelorette weekends away and fun nights out to be with your little? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, quite simply, yes.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And it can feel quite frustrating to feel left out and left behind and like you're missing out on so much when you say a "no" for now to hang with your toddler.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But all the parties and the work accolades and the weekends away have one thing in common. Those invitations are fickle. If you say no to one today, there will be another one in your inbox tomorrow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Contrary to how it feels right now, you will have a chance to do all of those things again. They will come back around. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">You'll get a second chance. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>But your baby boy? Your little girl? </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>That time when they hang on your every glance and light up when you clap and praise what they are doing? That time when they fall down and only want "Mama" to pick them up? Yes, that time is expiring. There is no do-over for this season. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And with my heart pounding and tears rolling down my face as I type, let me assure you I have given up much to be with our kids. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It has not been easy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But, as I witness our kids growing up and out </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(and yes, they are far from perfect!) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">and blossoming as they grow in relationship with the Lord, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">let me tell you that</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BEING MY KIDS FULL-TIME MAMA </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">HAS BEEN WORTH EVERY SACRIFICE. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because on some days do I miss the accolades from my job? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Heck yes! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But my true reward?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is not of this world. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Lord willing, my best "work" will be still curled in my Mama-lap, singing praises by my side for all of eternity. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Every NO is a YES to something greater and something better. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your kid needs you. Needs all of you. What a blessing that he has been gifted you as his mother. You are irreplaceable.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jIy7dWU66UY/VS_gtdWLmQI/AAAAAAAABHo/Q-J27MVaBbM/s1600/photo-10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jIy7dWU66UY/VS_gtdWLmQI/AAAAAAAABHo/Q-J27MVaBbM/s1600/photo-10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>***This is me and my "namesake" Josie Rose, my sister's beautiful little girl who just turned 2. Diana, there is NO replacement for your mothering! You are doing such a wonderful job with your children and I could just squeeze my precious niece all day long! </i></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03335286404925818055noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574462040472085217.post-22322072034727245852015-04-01T17:42:00.000-07:002015-04-02T11:15:34.802-07:00A Kiss at Calvary on Good Friday <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-73ANWrjG674/VRyP2_SBd4I/AAAAAAAABGg/JuvBi2rFmWs/s1600/IMG_2232_Fotor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-73ANWrjG674/VRyP2_SBd4I/AAAAAAAABGg/JuvBi2rFmWs/s1600/IMG_2232_Fotor.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have imagined it many times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Especially as a teenager, on Easter Sunday, nestled in a pew between my brothers and sister.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I close my eyes tight and picture it there on the hill. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">I inhale and close my eyes, desperately trying to picture the scene of my Savior. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Picture His cross. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" aria-label="Bible Inspiration: The Crucifixion Clothes – Creation Revolution" src="http://creationrevolution.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/9-1-11-AP-crucifixion.gif" height="427" id="yui_3_5_1_5_1364246814940_577" style="height: 257px; width: 385px;" width="640" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wonder, what would it would feel like to be there, peering up at the carved out tree. To bravely move toward it and not be able to control my need to reach up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">To touch the bottom of the cross. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fingering with my own hands the splinters He was feeling against his back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">To see Him hanging there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Punctured and barely breathing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sweating. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Grimacing in unspoken pain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">A Savior draped between two thieves. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">My heart beats faster just trying to put myself there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">To watch him willingly surrender with each gulp of air. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>To take in His sacrifice. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>His cross.</strong></span></div>
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<img alt="" aria-label="The Jawa Report: The Crucifixion Of The Quran" src="http://mypetjawa.mu.nu/archives/crucifixion.jpg" height="450" id="yui_3_5_1_5_1364246867097_666" style="height: 273px; width: 388px;" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>A few years back, on a cloudy, Friday afternoon,</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong> I caught a glimpse. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>A glimpse so moving, so profound </strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>that I pray the image will </strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>remain with me until I meet Him face to face.</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><br /></strong></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>And I pray my children will see my life changed. </strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I felt a call to head there at three past noon, the hour of His death, even though this day has been busy. Really busy. It didn't make sense to go. We hosted an early morning Birthday party, wrestled a 17-month old at his well visit, got the bags packed for a holiday weekend. A friend, I now call her a sister, told me about this service and I felt a nudge, a quiet whisper from the Advocate who resides inside my heart. <i>Go Jodi. Just go.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">How beautiful and how our God blesses our lives when we respond to the voice </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">that is one with His. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We went as a family, not really knowing what we were going to do. It's Good Friday, I told the girls, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">we will focus our hearts on the death of Christ. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>I had no expectations. </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>Isn't that when God works the best in our hearts?</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">When we entered through the side door </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked up at the familiar scene. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/138626494750923379/" id="yui_3_3_0_1_13642469578041604" target="_blank"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2239/2507812648_be5925e221_z.jpg" height="425" id="yui_3_3_0_1_13642469578041609" style="margin-left: 39px; margin-top: 30px;" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">A barrage of a starry painted sky, the same image I saw when I walked down the aisle on my wedding day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.abpan.com/category/travel/maryland/" id="yui_3_3_0_1_13642469578041048" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.abpan.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/st.marys-parish.jpg" height="425" id="yui_3_3_0_1_13642469578041051" style="margin-top: 4px;" width="640" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bobindrums/2416852177/" id="yui_3_3_0_1_1364246957804486" target="_blank"></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Standing room only.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The five of us huddled together in the back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We shifted side to side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We could barely see the altar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The kids were restless. The baby was babbling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lilli had to go to the </span><span style="font-size: large;">bathroom. Lacey was dangling on my hip, constantly giving my cheek wet kisses. I closed my eyes to listen. Surrounded by strangers, I hung on every word of the Gospel of John.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong> I got chills as I heard the story of Christ's eternal gift.</strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"> I relived The Passion in my mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">My stomach felt sick.</span></div>
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<img alt="" aria-label="CORAM DEO: The Passion of the Christ" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CfXrxSMDt5U/TZdmxZSSwvI/AAAAAAAABb0/kjOiCWtk81A/s1600/jesus-carrying-cross-bloody.jpg" height="509" id="yui_3_5_1_5_1364262479914_557" style="height: 404px; width: 458px;" width="576" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>If my first Catholic experience with Good Friday</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>had stopped right there, </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>our trip would have been worth it. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong><u>But there was more. </u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><u>An unexpected invitation.</u></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Not just to ponder the Passion, but to touch His Cross. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>To silently make our way to the front, </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>heads down in prayer.</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>To kneel down and place our lips at His feet.</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I stood to shuffle out of the pew, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">words came that pierced my soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Different voices, from the church choir loft above, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">solemnly read aloud </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">the seven last words Jesus uttered as He bled for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>And as I heard the cries of the Messiah, I saw my sin </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>with greater clarity than I ever had.</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." </em></span></strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>Lk. 23: 34</em></span></strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><br /></em></span></strong></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I walked up the side aisle, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">pulling Lacey closer to my chest.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">She wrapped her little arms and legs around me. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">She held on so tight. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>"Where are we doing Mama?" she whispered.</em></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I chocked back my answer. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<em>We are walking up to the altar. We are going to visit the cross to remember what Jesus did for us on Good Friday</em>." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the words continued to ring out, echoing from the rafters above our heads. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>"This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." </em></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>Luke 23:43</em></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><br /></em></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"You mean that He died? On that cross? </span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Why did he have to die Mama?"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">Her tiny voice broke with emotion, trying to understand. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>"He didn't have to honey. He choose to. For you Lacey. And for me. We didn't deserve it. We didn't deserve Him. </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>But He loves us anyway."</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong>"Woman, behold thy son." 19: 26-7</strong></em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The line was snaking toward the front. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We were halfway there. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">A beautiful choir started to quietly sing in the background.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The voices kept reciting the words of Jesus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong><span style="color: #660099;"> </span><span style="color: red;">"My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" </span></strong></em></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong>Mk. 15: 34</strong></em></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em> "What are people up there doing Mama? </em></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Why are they kissing the cross?"</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">She played with my hair. She smelled so sweet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">So innocent. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<em>They are saying thanks Lacey. Thanks to Christ for His gift. Gratitude for His death. Acknowledgement that our lives would be nothing without knowing Jesus</em>."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>"I thirst." <span style="color: black;"><span style="color: red;">Jn. 19: 28</span></span></em></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<img alt="" aria-label="Bruce Ahlberg Ministry: The Passion of the Christ" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ADW-Tt9-oSk/S6y1toZEGeI/AAAAAAAAAN4/7830y87ltQE/s1600/Passion_of_the_Christ_8.jpg" height="838" id="yui_3_5_1_5_1364262872567_581" style="height: 404px; width: 266px;" width="550" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">There were just two people ahead of me. I closed my eyes, picturing my Savior, my Jesus, the Prince of Peace </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">and Great I Am. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><strong>I imagined him hanging. </strong></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><strong>Dying for me. </strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><strong>I was so moved that I wanted to fall </strong></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><strong>at the foot of the cross.</strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><em>"It is finished." John 19: 30</em></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><em><br /></em></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><em>"Are you going to kiss it too Mama?" </em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">She cupped my face in her hands. Used her tiny finger to wipe the wet off of my cheek.<em> </em>Her sweet innocence nestled against my great sin. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><em><br />"Why aren't you answering me? Mama?"</em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;">I nodded my head. Pulled her blond head closer.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can't even describe or write to you </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">what I experienced next.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>I was suddenly unaware of anyone else in the Church, experiencing the presence of the Holy Spirit, </strong></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>the Advocate, in a mighty way. </strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">I could've cared less who saw me or </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">if I made a fool of myself. <strong>It was just my heart at the feet of a dying Savior.</strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><strong>I felt in the presence of Christ. Pure peace. Unconditional love.</strong></u></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">When it was my turn I closed my eyes again. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Knelt down. Bowed my head low. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then I gently kissed the bottom of the cross. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tears streaming down my face. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>"<span style="color: red;">Into thine hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." </span></em></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Lk. 23:46</em></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: red;"></span><br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;"></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>"Mama, why are you crying? What's wrong? </em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Are they happy tears?"</span></em></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<em><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong><u>I couldn't find my voice. </u></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong><u>Unable to fathom how the mother of the One who ushered in the New Covenant could watch her </u></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong><u>tender beloved hang and suffer like this.</u></strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">How she must have loved him; loved this Savior whose death and resurrection would </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">change mankind for all eternity. </span> </div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<em>Yes, baby. I am happy. Beyond happy and so thankful for what Jesus did this day, this sacrifice He offered because He loves us so much."</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I left the service speechless. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wanted the moment to linger. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">I made eye contact with my husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">One look told me how moved his heart was too. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">I was fearful if I spoke I would forget </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">what I just did. </span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>How my soul was just changed by how I saw Jesus. </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"><strong>By how I saw myself. My need for a Redeemer.</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have always felt so appreciative for what my Savior did for me on Cavalry. But this year I grown so much closer to Christ as I have started to understand the intention setting aside an entire week to prepare for Easter Sunday. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am enthralled with "Holy Week". </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lent. Holy Thursday. Good Friday. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">Gifts of focus from the Catholic Church. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">All new experiences for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Meditating on His Passion has catapulted my heart into a greater longing for His Resurrection. It has really helped me to center </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">my life on this sacred season. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">What a gift the Church has to offer us if we </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">are willing to dive in. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Dear Jesus,</em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em> I am humbled. I am speechless. You leave me breathless. Your love for me, for my children, for my husband...it is so great that it makes me drop to my knees. </em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em><br /></em></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Thank you for giving your life that </em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>I may live mine eternally, forever united with you.</em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Help remind me....in the craziness of Easter dresses and egg hunts and preparing Sunday lunch that this all means nothing in the shadow of your Cross. </em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em><br /></em></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>I love you Jesus.</em></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em><br /></em></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>All my days, I am forever yours. </em></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva";"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Love, Jodi</em></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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