tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83579232114635618442024-03-22T08:57:45.005-07:00All 10 Popes"We show people Jesus only when we show them grace and truth. Anything less than both is neither." ~Randy Alcornall10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-4792333989701012542024-03-22T08:56:00.000-07:002024-03-22T08:56:56.053-07:00One More Farewell, Friends<p>Many years ago I started this little blog because I love to write and I also love what is true. I've spent many an hour pouring over God's word, meditating on it in my mind as He teaches me from that well worn book. Often I have used my life experiences to speak the truth in love. It may have been our life in the Air Force, mothering, adoption and FASD or educating my children at home; each has given me a reason to write about the parallels between what I'm wondering through and how truth effects that reality. It has been my aim to speak hard truths in love. I probably have not always met that aim. I'm sure I've missed the mark. I always want to challenge and encourage not be <i>unnecessarily</i> offensive. </p><p>When I started writing here, I was so young that I didn't know I was young. It's not that I'm old now. No, that's not what I mean. Inexperienced and naive is what I mean. Often I was quick to speak (or type rather) believing that I had the simple answers to life's hard questions. This doesn't mean I was always wrong, rather to put it more bluntly, I thought I knew more than I really did. To further this predicament along, those that I listened to were themselves young and restless. It is not that I did not learn or glean anything worth knowing (I most certainly did) but what it did not do is prepare me for the moment we live in now. I had a very pietistic understanding of truth. It was not preparatory for the world my children would now walk into. In other words, I had an understanding of truth but was not wise to understand how to apply that truth to my life in light of the world around me. </p><p>God has a way of using time and age to humble. No doubt been using the 8 humans I've been raising and teaching as well as moving every 3-4. As I've said before, on my long list of priorities, writing has taken a back seat. And I've been ok with that. Mostly, anyway. Even when I have the words, I haven't had the capacity even to think through the implications of what I am trying to convey, though I've had the desire. I've never stopped wanting to write. I do believe it is a gift (that is to be stewarded well) to be able to put words down that mean something especially when it comes to communicate what is true. What has been hardest is knowing just exactly when the "right time" is. </p><p>Ironically, it's hard to put it all into words. I've written before about how grace and truth isn't just a virtue signal for me. And how just important clarity is. But I continued to be stuck without the words to write except I do have them. Weird huh? I would sit down with everything I wanted to write running through my head and just be stuck. Like a drowning bee, I was trying to access water from a large water bucket but didn't have the "tools" (or hunk of wood, rather) to pull myself up onto and fly out of. It felt a little like drowning in a sea of words. There were too many, but not enough.</p><p>That all changed when I ran across this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SksMC6GX9_0" target="_blank">YouTube post from </a><span style="background-color: white;"><span face="Roboto, Noto, sans-serif" style="color: #0f0f0f;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(15, 15, 15); white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SksMC6GX9_0" target="_blank">Krista Bontrager</a> about the things she has changed her mind on in the past 4 years. Our list is strikingly similar. Watching her explain, in a very vulnerable</span></span> way on the public inter webs, what has flabbergasted her about the past 4 years, gave me the courage I have needed to write. Most importantly, she apologizes at one point for encouraging her fellow brothers and sister's in Christ to receive an experimental therapy treatment in the name of love of the brethren. She equates her definition of love to the law of Love in Christ and for that she rightly recognizes as sin and repents. Publicly. In a world greatly lacking in courage, Krista proved to be courageous. Courage begets </span>courage as someone wiser than I has once said. </p><p>Part of the reason for the writers block (beyond cowardice) is practically, the things I want to write about are necessarily <a href="http://all6popes.blogspot.com/2021/12/grace-and-truth.html" target="_blank">divisive</a>. They aren't divisive because they should be but because the Christian world has stopped thinking Christianly. I know many people come to this space over the years to read about what I'm doing with my kids or to get a fun update, not to read about something that seems to be politically driven. For lack of a better word, I don't want to be disloyal or, again, unnecessarily offensive to those of you that have followed along all these years. </p><p>Because of this, I will no longer be writing here. My desire is to help Christian woman think Christianly about issues that the we are facing today and help them to see that we do not need to shy away from hard conversations or saying hard truths in a plain way in the name of being "nice" or "loving" or "<a href="https://slowtowrite.com/compassion-and-gay-weddings/">preserving relationships</a>." In a world where most of the prominent women's voices very often lean into different kinds of -isms and what podcaster Allie Beth Stuckey has labeled <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcPAYWi_cW8" target="_blank">toxic empathy</a>, my desire is to humbly offer another seasoned voice of reason. I often wonder "where are the older women" who are talking about what matters? Maybe I'm looking in the wrong places, but I do want to help equip women to think through issues by tethering it to what is actually true from the standard: God's very Word. I want to start this by offering a post about part of my own story. My goal is to have it written by my 22nd anniversary of becoming Mrs. Pope. Please pray for me as I've never written my story down for some painful reasons but I'm determined to start at the start. I humbly hope that you'll join me over on <a href="https://landofnotrees.substack.com" target="_blank">substack</a> beginning in April where I plan to write at least monthly. </p><p>Lastly, I know that many of you who have followed along the last 20 years will choose to no longer to read what I write. I won't ever hold this against you. I have loved writing here. I have loved your readership and enduring encouragement in my life. I hope I have loved you well with my words, but the time has come for one more farewell, friends. </p><p><br /></p>all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-4925699185129158032022-04-06T07:11:00.001-07:002022-04-06T08:30:25.754-07:00That Ford Truck<p>19 and pregnant will collide dreams with reality quickly and you might just find yourself (as I did in 2002) in a tan Ford truck having a very awkward conversation with your boyfriend that goes a little something like this: </p><p>Him: Well, do you think we should get married?</p><p>Me: (thinking... this isn't exactly how I dreamt of being proposed to) Maybe. I dunno. It's probably what everyone expects.</p><p>Him: (thinking...this isn't exactly how I dreamt that answer to be) Yeah. Ok.</p><p>He says he doesn't remember that conversation, but I do. I often remind him that I have a situational memory like an elephant. I don't forget. It's a blessing. And a curse. I've never looked back on that conversation with anything but fondness. I had many not so fond conversations after that with others. Conversations I'll write about in detail when the time is right and when I can find the words that I've never can seem to find. For now, I will say that one particular conversation was with a coach who told me that my marriage would never work out. "Teen marriages never do," she said.</p><p>I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say that she probably thought she was giving me very pragmatic, practical advice. And she's right you know. Not just teen marriages, but marriages in general often don't work out do they? The odds were certainly not in our favor and there was no Katniss Everdeen around to be the hero of our story. So I guess we would have to try our best to play the adults in the room (or truck) and figure it out for ourselves. </p><p>That tan Ford was sold shortly after we married because all the shifting of gears made my nausea worse. We were given a Toyota Camry. Good, solid family car. That Camry gave way to a Honda Odyssey van (driven all over Germany's autobahn) which we sold and bought a fancy suburban (I thought growing up only rich people drove suburbans). Eventually we needed even more room, like 4 additional kids kind of room and so entered the 12 passenger Nissan NV into our lives. But not into our garage because it would never fit. More truthfully, the garage is always a mess but I digress. </p><p>It's odd to think of 20 years of marriage in cars isn't it? </p><p>But that question proposed in that tan ford truck was the beginning of the hope of having the happily ever after that I never saw my mother have growing up. At the time, I would have described it in much the same way that the Disney movies I grew up watching describes happiness: do what your heart tells you and you'll be happy. Now, after 20 years I realize if I had clung to that hope, we would have never made it here. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkuQ00fAO__PUZOBGS4qmlLaA7GQ-iMa5nvcmPGdAL-EBizm_0ub-BNLyzSqvSHviQSZ3M2OmrVaRC3WlEWqQIyLVEum6KVGffJVSyzBH_gvKSpgsxsWvy_EYoT2frWShOe-mF2UvPmzDmqp_EAJvS1XIYRBw8zuuu74m1FgOmr1crCUos-rmKC3H/s4032/IMG_0412.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkuQ00fAO__PUZOBGS4qmlLaA7GQ-iMa5nvcmPGdAL-EBizm_0ub-BNLyzSqvSHviQSZ3M2OmrVaRC3WlEWqQIyLVEum6KVGffJVSyzBH_gvKSpgsxsWvy_EYoT2frWShOe-mF2UvPmzDmqp_EAJvS1XIYRBw8zuuu74m1FgOmr1crCUos-rmKC3H/s320/IMG_0412.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How it started</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>And where is here? </p><p>Well, we're still here. We're still fighting. Still trying to figure it all out. And let me tell you, it has been hard. I often say that our naiveté served us well for many years. I also often say that the only expectation I had in getting married was that I wasn't ever getting divorced. As if that were just a goal I could some how attain by sheer strength and good will. As you can imagine, setting that goal entirely on my slim shoulders wasn't the wisest thing a girl could do. I know many a better wife that have walked the dark, lonely road of divorce. The reason things have held together, other than the grace of God, is because of the man He allowed me to marry. So let me take just a minute and tell you about him.</p><p>I walked down the isle 20 years ago this very day to a man (who was really just a boy) who was wearing old, black nike socks instead of new dress socks in his size 13 shoes. That one sentence tells you much about this quiet man of mine. He doesn't value things just because they're new. He likes the comfort of the familiar. Ironically, he is very often restless but not with material items. He is the most ornery person I know. He loves to laugh and be silly. His desire to be kind, and to do right is unmatched by many that I know. He will never be the guy on the front page winning the award but he can always be counted on to be honest...to always tell the truth. Some people might say he's honest to a fault, but I don't think that is actually possible for honesty is never a fault. </p><p>He has this insatiable thirst to know what is true. He is often bent over scouring through his worn (and many) Bibles trying to figure out just who this God is that He believes in and how He would have him live and what it exactly means to live as Christ as lived and to die as Christ died.</p><p> Our only breakup, that burst my heart open wide, happened just after high school graduation and the untimely death of his father. As Justin tried to deal with this gaping wound of grief, he looked me straight in the eye one evening after a fight and said plainly, "Kari, take up your cross." It was one of the few times he openly wept before me. He knew I was not living a life that honored our Heavenly Father and it broke him that I was (we were) so broken.</p><p>At the time, I had zero idea of what that meant, but living with my husband now of 20 years I have learned what this means by watching him. He has been my closest teacher. I don't even think he realizes this. Yes, we both gave up opportunities and scholarships and our idea of what life "should' be. We would both say that we gave those up to gain more: a life together and a daughter. But that's not exactly what I'm talking about. </p><p>I have watched my husband grow into a man who delights in serving his family. I watch him, bone tired at the end of the day, pick up the Harry Potter book and read it to a son willingly. I watch him spend his day, instead of putting down grass seed (which desperately needs doing), fixing bike tires with kids. I watch him start the grill again so that we can sit together and eat again. I watch him get up early at a job after job to provide for our family. And sometimes I know that just getting up is half the battle. It's the small, daily acts of love that can wear a person down. I know this. </p><p>I wish I could say that I always value him as I should. I wish I could say that I have loved him as I ought to love him but I can't say that. Learning and growth is often slow around here. What I can say is that in the past 20 years, the Lord has taught me most through watching my patient, kind husband. I would not be the person I am today without his love, trust and support. Truly, he is my first and greatest blessing and friend the Lord has ever given me. </p><p>Never once in my life have I imagined what my life would have been had I not gotten pregnant and married. Nor have I longed for something different because I know the goodness of God has so permeated every square inch of my life in such a way that any pain, hurt or longing has been met, not in my wonderful husband, but in the person of Christ Himself. </p><p>In my pride, I'd love to have another meeting with that coach from college and tell her just who I actually married. Because she is not the Creator and Sustainer of Life, she could not possibly see who the Lord would fashion Justin into. If you learn nothing from us today, please learn that. She could not see that there might be an exception to the "rule." But it no longer matters does it? Today is what matters. And today we celebrate all the Lord has done these past 20 years and beg him for mercy in the 20 or so to come. </p><p style="text-align: center;">To Him be all glory, and honor forever and ever. Amen. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYw_aScIK_RckUYKcBcvwhnk3bSPwJ-2j2VKmK5yFxvnYMKrnWG6l0clzgbyqi4Eca5yZm_iY6u5PjBKWeYnaDsNri-tGcFDHUabKsR5V9tBiLgGUI6RnkBJbl4_rMKXhmpH9oLmyd9DNTmk14ns3DJnOHS3QonQdvyTimddjXJsNN2V62DRInuVg/s1895/IMG_6726.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1895" data-original-width="1421" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYw_aScIK_RckUYKcBcvwhnk3bSPwJ-2j2VKmK5yFxvnYMKrnWG6l0clzgbyqi4Eca5yZm_iY6u5PjBKWeYnaDsNri-tGcFDHUabKsR5V9tBiLgGUI6RnkBJbl4_rMKXhmpH9oLmyd9DNTmk14ns3DJnOHS3QonQdvyTimddjXJsNN2V62DRInuVg/s320/IMG_6726.heic" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How it's going</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-21001761497768023452021-12-16T11:05:00.001-08:002021-12-16T11:05:29.072-08:00Grace and Truth<p>My sweet sister passed through recently and I enjoyed sitting and chatting with her and her bombastic husband. They always make me laugh. And think. I appreciate that about them both. We discussed books, politics, food, family and of course where we see our country headed. Those of you that follow me on Instagram (I still have a profile on Facebook but no longer use the platform) might have been caught off guard by my more seemingly political posts. I have gone back and forth as to if I should explain myself here. I mean, who am I really? No one actually. And nothing screams self-importance like a friend on your feed posting, "Why I never posted about controversial issues and now I do." It's weird and yet, here I am writing about it. </p><p>I wrestle with this idea because clarity matters.</p><p>I want those of you that I love and are dear family and friends to try to understand where I am coming from especially when and if we disagree. It is hard to be clear on social media. It is hard to engage thoughtfully. It is hard to try to challenge the narrative when most people are willing to accept it, if it means they're "safe."</p><p>For almost an entire year I remained silent. This was largely due to the reality that (much like 9/11) after the tragic death of George Floyd, nothing was (and ever would be) the same in society. I had no idea what to post. How could I post a picture of my cute kid's art project when the world was literally on fire? I couldn't reconcile the two realities of a burning America (literally and figuratively) and kids who still make art. Surely, kids made art during other desperate times, but they didn't have social media to contend with.</p><p>It seemed somehow irreverent. This isn't because I thought those engaging at the time were being irresponsible or unkind. I was at a complete loss personally. I kept quiet. I didn't really engage or even scroll through my feeds very often. </p><p>This doesn't make me special. </p><p>Sometimes I think it makes me a coward but whatever it makes me I want to explain where I am now.</p><p>I have sat down to write this post probably 20 times. It is hard to find the words even now. I want to make clear the value that I have for each of you that read my words especially those of you who don't always agree with my take. It is humbling. There have been times where I have said "hard truths" but haven't suffered for it in the form of lost of trust within friendships. Sadly, I believe that this no longer can be an expectation. Every issue and I do mean every issue of the day is politicized (there are many reasons for this that I hope to write about soon.) I also believe that we live in a world where the only truth that matters to most people, is their experiential, lived truth...the truth that they arrive at and comes from within themselves. </p><p>As you know, I am unashamed (but struggle being ashamed) about being a Christian. My worldview and thus my writings come from this view. The Christian worldview is imbibed in truth that does not come from within. The Christian worldview rests on the very Word of the Living God. It comes from outside of oneself. Does God's very Word speak to the issues of the day...political or otherwise? I believe it does. To be faithful to this truth, I can no longer sit idly by and not <a href="https://www.family210.com/listing/speak-truth-to-error?product=2" target="_blank">speak up</a> in the areas of life, ethnicity, the state, liberty, reconciliation, censorship and a whole host of other "political" issues. </p><p>I realize this is off putting to some people especially Christians (many of whom would agree with me on these controversial issues but remain silent). <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i60eQZPG5XM" target="_blank">Voddie Baucham</a> likes to say something like, "Christians today are great at following the 11th command 'Thall shalt be nice,'. He also adds that they often, "Ignore the other 10." I tend to agree whole heartedly with the first statement and believe the latter statement, for some, is often true as well. I realize that some of even my very dear friends will never understand why I feel the need to speak up on what is seen as a political matter on social media believing politics and religion are to be left in separate rooms of the house. Many of you will see it as divisive and even unloving. Others believe that it hurts our "Christian witness." </p><p>Regardless, I know it will alienate some of you as you long for the days of pictures of art projects (and there will be some of those too) but my hope is to challenge you, at the very least, to think about something from a different point of view. We don't have to agree about things like masking (some of you are already triggered), but we also can appreciate another point of view without demeaning the person who holds that view. </p><p>We can again learn to respect the Imago Dei.</p><p>I know that seems like a lot to ask. And really maybe it seems like it's too much to ask because it actually is. Maybe we live lives so secluded in our echo chambers, wrapped in a the snug blankets of our own opinions that it's too much to even think about the implications of another person's point of view. Instead of engaging in debate with one another, we personally attack each other or at the very least dismiss their ideas altogether. Instead of mulling over a point, we call those on the other side insane or stupid or accuse them of being a conspiracy theorist. Instead of speaking the truth in love, we speak in hateful derogatory arguments meant to own the other side. It is my hearts desire that this would not be a place for any of that. I also realize that even the very mention of certain topics is going to illicit a visceral reaction. My heart grieves this reality.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HnGxleBvlYMwOrgV3NNaUxHWSQ9M3j4C8XTACM9zcyCV45qZJP2S_mFkNEk6pE41FSDUYZs_EJaPa7NKnOF80TkEu4eENDKWh23MnkiGkRlCvxEt8Ue37rkRxwHzWjCNBPvHVHh_4tQ/s1080/Maybe+we+live+lives+so+secluded+in+our+echo+chambers%252C+wrapped+in+a+the+snug+blankets+of+our+own+opinions+that+it%2527s+too+much+to+even+think+about+the+implications+of+another+person%2527s+point+of+view..png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HnGxleBvlYMwOrgV3NNaUxHWSQ9M3j4C8XTACM9zcyCV45qZJP2S_mFkNEk6pE41FSDUYZs_EJaPa7NKnOF80TkEu4eENDKWh23MnkiGkRlCvxEt8Ue37rkRxwHzWjCNBPvHVHh_4tQ/w400-h400/Maybe+we+live+lives+so+secluded+in+our+echo+chambers%252C+wrapped+in+a+the+snug+blankets+of+our+own+opinions+that+it%2527s+too+much+to+even+think+about+the+implications+of+another+person%2527s+point+of+view..png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Many years ago when I started this blog, I prayed about the tagline. Weeks went by and I read what has now become my favorite quote from Randy Alcorn, " We show people Jesus only when we show them grace AND truth. Anything less than both is neither." (emp. mine)</p><p>Grace AND truth must be lived, yes. They go hand in hand as a both/and reality. Like grace, truth also must be spoken and written. We must <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Live-Not-Lies-Christian-Dissidents/dp/0593087399/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1628624995&sr=8-1" target="_blank">live not by lies</a>. I am determined, by God's grace, to walk in truth. </p><p>Just for clarity: I do not intend to push a political agenda, but my ideas here will be in line with a more conservative view...socially and otherwise...but that isn't my sole intention. I'm not fighting culture wars. I'm not primarily advocating for America to get back to her founding principals. I want people, particularly Christians, to start thinking again. I want to get back to the ability to talk about issues without degrading the person beside us. I also realize that God is not affiliated with any political party. Every person could (and does!) use the Bible to fit their narrative. </p><p>For example, I may not believe in open borders, but I'm not going to believe that a Christian who does isn't an actual Christian. I may be able to support my view with scripture, but that doesn't mean that, that scripture speaks directly to that issue and is emphatically true. This requires humility. </p><p>Trigger Warning: When discussing masks, I'm not going to insinuate that to not wear one is to not love your neighbor. Or to love your neighbor means wearing on. That's intellectually and theologically lazy to asert (tho many Christians advocate this view.) I think the real question is the same for border issues and masking mandates and that is: what does it <i>really</i> mean to love your neighbor? </p><p>That is a profoundly deeper question.</p><p>That is a question that will lead you to an answer beyond masking. </p><p>Let's get to the heart of those talking points that divide us and realize there is a new moral standard. There is a new truth. And it needs to be spoken to. I won't apologize for sounding political. There's no way to address this new truth without sounding so. Is it annoying? Oh, my word...YES!! But if my only other option is to be silent about issues that effect our entire society....I'll choose sounding "political." </p><p>And so, friends, much of the time you'll see my "micro-blogged" thoughts on my Instagram stories. There I will also share links on my <a href="https://linktr.ee/kjpope" target="_blank">LinkTree</a>, if you interested in what I'm reading, thinking/mulling over and listening to. I wrestle with monetizing my LinkTree. If I ever do that, I'll let you know up front. </p><p>I don't know how much time I will have for actual blogging on this space this coming year. My intentions are always good, but teaching at home leaves me without much room for such luxuries during the week. I appreciate thoughts, questions and pushback (respectful pushback preferred) within Instagram messages. </p><p>As I endeavor to "fear the Lord and walk in His ways,"(<a href="https://biblehub.com/psalms/128-1.htm" target="_blank">Ps. 128: 1</a>) please know my hearts desire is not to offend (tho it might happen)...my heart's desire is to love you all well with words frill with grace and truth. </p><p><br /></p>all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-90140997295830898512020-02-21T19:05:00.000-08:002020-02-21T19:05:56.179-08:00Don't Pick up that Rock<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Friends! </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Thank you for reading OR you can <a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-146417796/dont-pick-up-that-rock/s-EtZmu" target="_blank">listen</a> to me read this post to you. </i></b></div>
<br />
Thoughtless. Uncaring. Failure. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
These are the rocks I put in my backpack often. There's usually a lost, dirty sock in there too belonging to one of my children. But that’s another story for another day. You have yours too, I would imagine. Rocks, I mean. Rocks? You say. Yes, rocks.<br />
<br />
Let me explain:</div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ozgPOOxhZfXVPnRnXsTZ5jMQ02q02jC8lTVi5MSqjkVedVQDH-cGT3vgwRFvXvPwGdoWdQ9UdQc03iOZjNBiWFXxOW1MvdbiqPz-UApo7Ucnq4Bv60sMU7IHPU9Y1e9xpRb6IQsbrgg/s1600/84E4147A-F23A-4F8E-BEB5-B021BA104D75.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ozgPOOxhZfXVPnRnXsTZ5jMQ02q02jC8lTVi5MSqjkVedVQDH-cGT3vgwRFvXvPwGdoWdQ9UdQc03iOZjNBiWFXxOW1MvdbiqPz-UApo7Ucnq4Bv60sMU7IHPU9Y1e9xpRb6IQsbrgg/s320/84E4147A-F23A-4F8E-BEB5-B021BA104D75.jpeg" width="240" /></a>Imagine with me: you are running a race (if that’s too much of a stretch imagine you’re going on a long hike). This race/hike is long. It’s hard. The peak is high and the valleys are so low light cannot be see. It’s bright in some spots but darker than you could have ever imagined in places. All you know is, once you start you have to keep going. Forward. That’s the way. Forward. That’s what you know because there is no going back. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Not far into your journey, you stumble...you fall. You trip over rocks jutting out of the path. This happens again and again. At some point along the race you decide you like the look of the rocks along the road. "Maybe I'll start picking them up and this will help me not to trip so often," you think. You like the look of those rocks and yeah, it makes the journey harder but what’s a little pain when you’re climbing to the summit? You “own” those heavy laden rocks. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
If your mind is recalling John Bunyon’s classic <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Dangerous-Journey-Story-Pilgrims-Progress/dp/0802836194/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=pilgrims+progress+for+kids&qid=1582338420&sr=8-3" target="_blank">Pilgrim’s Progress</a>, you would be right. Except for this one difference: Christian starts out with a heavy laden pack and losses it along the way as a beautiful picture of the freedom from sin that believers attain in Christ. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Once that heavy pack is loosed though, Christian never starts picking up rocks and putting them back into his pack. His trouble is great during the journey, to be sure but the pack stays light. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" />
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMpCEewcfM6hk97v9wNduYd5xZSD4b67DfiD3nX1ASaySryWy55orwag_sA40kqUryCUyZfAGLq0cX5Eo_e5zN0W2x84DtH9NnANJm_SH36s5CLobAhLD6oG4Q7uXX2czA-Mx8c9LC8o/s1600/2AB6B58A-3993-467E-AB1A-A4FEB0360629.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMpCEewcfM6hk97v9wNduYd5xZSD4b67DfiD3nX1ASaySryWy55orwag_sA40kqUryCUyZfAGLq0cX5Eo_e5zN0W2x84DtH9NnANJm_SH36s5CLobAhLD6oG4Q7uXX2czA-Mx8c9LC8o/s320/2AB6B58A-3993-467E-AB1A-A4FEB0360629.jpeg" width="240" /></a>American Christians forget this.<br />
<br />
At least I do. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
A dear friend recently encouraged me to stop running the race with rocks in your pack! What she meant is this: I cannot own every perceived “failure” I (or others) place on me. If I forget something (which I often do) I will pick up the rock of “forgetfulness” and let it own me. If I don’t know something, like how to answer the residency question on some important form, (yes, this is actually a confusing problem for military families) I then pick up the “stupid” rock. I have lots of pet rocks. Sadly, they’re not even very pretty. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="line-height: 1.57143em; text-size-adjust: 100%;">Instead, of just looking at it for what it is: just a rock that I sometimes stumble over, (which can and does always remind me of my need for Jesus) I see it and agree, shaking my head like an obedient puppy. Then I pick it up, give it a good, solid pet and load myself down with an unbearable weight. A weight I was not meant to carry. I will often forget things, events etc. but that isn’t a lack of thought, or preparedness or unkindness or moral failure. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
In the bright and shiny world of American Christendom where we put on our Sunday best and try to wear it all week long... we often tie how clean our house is, how much debt we have or don’t have, how good or bad our marriage is, how well our children behave and turn out (that’s a BIG one right?)...basically everything the world can actually see on the outside...we, tie this with a big, bright, shiny, red bow to who we actually are in Christ: beloved, forgiven, children of God. </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
The two are unrelated.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<em style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Your perceived failures never will change your position in Christ.</em> </div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br clear="none" /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Ever.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz3-llVh7jOGOvU4TsEmEOxBcqXl2uY9J1byu7_azkGQxIxHAkBTtwer7pQ0YzFaG8YCgvVhy1Ny3Yb5D2RhAHpT6yHpFOX_g88sZZJSepEzsno0iMdvxqlcXaMouGzsamTQXE6L7zkA/s1600/9CC689DD-DA4D-4A31-AAE9-4084C328356B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz3-llVh7jOGOvU4TsEmEOxBcqXl2uY9J1byu7_azkGQxIxHAkBTtwer7pQ0YzFaG8YCgvVhy1Ny3Yb5D2RhAHpT6yHpFOX_g88sZZJSepEzsno0iMdvxqlcXaMouGzsamTQXE6L7zkA/s320/9CC689DD-DA4D-4A31-AAE9-4084C328356B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Jesus says in Matthew, “Come to me all who are labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and lowly on heart and you will find rest for your souls.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; color: #383838; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Fira Sans", "Droid Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.57143em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Maybe the reason life feels so heavy isn’t because it actually heavy but because I have loaded my pack with a load I was never mean to carry. Even when I do sin...when I'm uncaring, unloving and selfish (there are many times I am), still I don't have to pick up that rock. Sin is no longer what defines me. According to 2 Corinthians I'm a new creation in Christ. This isn't an excuse to sin, rather a reason to keep myself from sin. So grateful am I to be chosen and loved, to be right with God and to be called Beloved. To walk in this way...to allow this to define me, to shape and mold me... is to walk or run, rather this weary race in the freedom of Christ.<br />
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-73546570037851433372019-08-29T09:12:00.001-07:002019-09-04T21:25:40.981-07:00Chasing Perfection: A Gospel Reminder <div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':8,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':143}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':8,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':143}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':8,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':143}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":8,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":143}" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>**click <a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-146417796/chasing-perfection/s-tzMBE" target="_blank">here</a> to listen to me read this post**</b><i> </i></div>
<br />
<i>Dearest Reader,</i></div>
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":8,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":143}" style="text-align: center;">
<i>It's been weeks since I originally wrote this post. Like, beginning of summer. Lets just say that the Lord has been at work on me in with this very thing. So lest you be tempted to think that I have this altogether, He has plainly showed me that I surely do not. Please remember that now and always as I write, I am always speaking truth to myself first. </i><br />
<br />
<br /> </div>
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":8,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":143}">
<br /></div>
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":8,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":143}">
I accidentally let out about 1/4 of our pool water into our
neighbor’s yard the other morning. Thankfully it was slow, and it’s been
rainy so they didn’t notice. The same evening I proceeded to make a
dinner for some new friends and the dish I made included ingredients
some of them can’t eat because of their severe food allergies. Like
brings an epipen because I might die from eating your food kind of
allergy. I even asked if they had any. Allergies, I mean. And my sweet
new friend took the time to lay it all out for me via text which I read.
And still, I got it wrong. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':123,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':258}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':123,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':258}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':123,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':258}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":123,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":258}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':123,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':258}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':142,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':277}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':142,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':277}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':142,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':277}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":142,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":277}">
Another friend once said that I could cure cancer and still feel like I had not done enough. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':161,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':296}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':161,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':296}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':161,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':296}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":161,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":296}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':161,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':296}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':180,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':315}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':180,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':315}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':180,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':315}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":180,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":315}">
There’s probably some truth to that. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':200,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':335}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':200,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':335}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':200,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':335}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":200,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":335}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':200,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':335}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':219,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':354}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':219,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':354}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':219,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':354}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":219,"w":653,"h":38,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":354}">
Some
days the grey cloud of failure looms above me and I can’t seem to get
it right. I may get it right 9 out of 10 times but for sure I won’t get
it right at least once. Or twice. Or for the love of Pete, at all. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':257,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':392}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':257,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':392}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':257,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':392}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":257,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":392}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':257,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':392}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':276,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':411}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':276,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':411}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':276,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':411}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":276,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":411}">
What
I’m beginning to realize though, is that this is a grace. That in fact
everyone struggles to “get it right” in their own way. And most of us
are just pretending we know what we are actually doing anyway. And not one
of us can be perfect. Or we are doing things like letting 1/4 of the
water out of the pool on accident and never, ever telling a soul for
fear of judgement or shame. Or both.<br />
<br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':276,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':411}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':353,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':488}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":353,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":488}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':353,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':488}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':372,'w':653,'h':172,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':507}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':142,'y':527,'w':400,'h':16,'abs_x':611,'abs_y':662}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuiI1URn09QSBDNY2_evyW4-cIf3xD-e6zrhKSAB6qXN8TBduozbidrV7RCkV98BNl493n3ejjy48FZp3MV6DPXbiuYrzYPDwaWcxbw5CtztmFR17yDyngAvussKF5GyLjO0fl2Q9u_kw/s1600/fr310obsTXeU%2525ZifNqZqGA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':142,'y':372,'w':400,'h':167,'abs_x':611,'abs_y':507}" border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="1600" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuiI1URn09QSBDNY2_evyW4-cIf3xD-e6zrhKSAB6qXN8TBduozbidrV7RCkV98BNl493n3ejjy48FZp3MV6DPXbiuYrzYPDwaWcxbw5CtztmFR17yDyngAvussKF5GyLjO0fl2Q9u_kw/s400/fr310obsTXeU%2525ZifNqZqGA.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':545,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':680}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":545,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":680}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':545,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':680}" /></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':564,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':699}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br bis_size="{'x':342,'y':564,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':811,'abs_y':699}" /></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':583,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':718}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":583,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":718}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':583,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':718}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':353,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':488}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':353,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':488}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':603,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':738}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":603,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":738}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':353,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':488}" data-mce-bogus="1" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':372,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':507}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':372,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':507}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':622,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':757}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":622,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":757}">
Whole
volumes of books have been written on this topic. Books that I could
never touch or add upon with my meager words here. In fact, I read a
post with a similar theme to mine recently written by a well known
Christian author (whose words are far superior) on this same subject and
almost quit writing this post. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':449,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':584}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':449,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':584}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':699,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':834}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":699,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":834}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':449,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':584}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':468,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':603}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':468,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':603}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':718,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':853}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":718,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":853}">
But I didn’t so here it goes.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':488,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':623}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':488,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':623}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':737,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':872}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":737,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":872}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':488,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':623}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':507,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':642}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':507,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':642}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':756,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':891}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":756,"w":653,"h":153,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":891}">
I’m
not really going to try to surpass others. My gift is being just like
you. I don’t own my own business. Well, I guess technically <a bis_size="{'x':238,'y':528,'w':56,'h':16,'abs_x':707,'abs_y':663}" href="https://w8786.myubam.com/" target="_blank">now I do</a>.
I’m not doing anything that is going to get me noticed, really. I’m not
writing any books. I don’t have a podcast (but I would love to). I’m
totally normal. I’m you. Well, you know what I mean right? I’ll not
even pretend to have all the answers but what I hope to do is encourage
you to start viewing perfection differently because perfection saturates
our society even in ways you may not realize. I often tell my kids
they are like little sponges just absorbing all the messages around
them. I am no different and so, have to train my mind in discerning what
is actually true. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':660,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':795}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':660,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':795}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':910,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1045}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":910,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1045}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':660,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':795}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':680,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':815}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':680,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':815}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':929,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1064}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":929,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1064}">
It's obvious. Just take a
look around we can see the idea of perfectionism at work. It saturates
our society preaching at us but talking out of both sides of its mouth
(yes, the culture is very good at this). As much as it wants to be all
things to all people and show different body types in commercials etc.,
the reality is that a beautiful, flawless women in a TV ad is going to
get much more attention than one that is not so flawless. Advertisers
aren’t stupid. Advertisers know this. They know it will pay the bills in
a big way.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':795,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':930}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':795,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':930}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1044,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1179}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1044,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1179}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':795,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':930}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':814,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':949}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':814,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':949}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1063,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1198}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1063,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1198}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':816,'w':650,'h':73,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':951}" data-mce-style="-en-paragraph: true;" style="-en-paragraph: true;"> There
is a small business out of Utah that sells swimsuits that I love. They
say their models are, “never airbrushed.” Maybe that’s partly true but I
always wonder where the cellulite is. No amount of good lighting will
get rid of that on a 30 something model. It’s just not possible. We all
have it. If you don’t, you’re one of the lucky ones. Seriously, high
five from me! </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':891,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1026}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':891,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1026}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1140,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1275}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1140,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1275}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':891,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1026}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':910,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1045}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':910,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1045}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1159,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1294}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1159,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1294}">
No matter how much we
want to be seen as relatable, there is something in us that isn’t
satisfied by the status quo. We are constantly vacillating between pride
(I am so much more fit than her) and despair (why can’t I look like
her). Or is that just me raising my hand here?</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':968,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1103}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':968,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1103}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1217,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1352}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1217,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1352}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':968,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1103}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':987,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1122}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':987,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1122}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1236,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1371}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1236,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1371}">
It’s like we want to feel ok in our own skin but we just can’t be ok with just being ok.<br />
<br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':987,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1122}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1255,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1390}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1255,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1390}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1255,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1390}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1275,'w':653,'h':405,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1410}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':192,'y':1663,'w':300,'h':16,'abs_x':661,'abs_y':1798}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgTRC4QIeXs8pKGhC7eEgkP4blwowpl4WjEvxlssF0NIf62gzJMgGCcyJPYJKwbdDFeN5Of21mcvUV22v4AcH9qEdp0JHdfGjRes0G6-WRy4hn5Huk7AgIGAw_Jo36yvUgz1feKyyADw/s1600/5WBQeGLgR0O%2525ZgqVc%252B0rUw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':192,'y':1275,'w':300,'h':400,'abs_x':661,'abs_y':1410}" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgTRC4QIeXs8pKGhC7eEgkP4blwowpl4WjEvxlssF0NIf62gzJMgGCcyJPYJKwbdDFeN5Of21mcvUV22v4AcH9qEdp0JHdfGjRes0G6-WRy4hn5Huk7AgIGAw_Jo36yvUgz1feKyyADw/s400/5WBQeGLgR0O%2525ZgqVc%252B0rUw.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':987,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1122}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1680,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1815}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1680,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1815}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1680,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1815}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1006,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1141}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1006,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1141}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1699,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1834}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1699,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1834}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1006,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1141}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1025,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1160}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1025,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1160}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1719,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1854}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1719,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1854}">
Now. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1044,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1179}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1044,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1179}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1738,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1873}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1738,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1873}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1044,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1179}" data-mce-bogus="1" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1064,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1199}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1064,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1199}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1757,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1892}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1757,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1892}">
Though
most of us struggle in the area of physical beauty, this is just the
icing on top of the cake, if you will. This is the glaringly obvious
problem in our culture. Even the magazine industry writes articles about
the problem of treating women like objects of perfection while at the
same time air brushing their size -0 models. Yes. That’s a -0. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1140,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1275}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1140,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1275}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1834,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1969}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1834,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1969}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1140,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1275}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1160,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1295}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1160,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1295}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1853,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1988}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1853,"w":653,"h":38,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1988}">
I
want to take it a step further because <a bis_size="{'x':263,'y':1161,'w':106,'h':16,'abs_x':732,'abs_y':1296}" href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew+5%3A27-28&version=NIV" target="_blank">Jesus always did</a>. Jesus says
these kinds of issues are merely a reflection of the heart. Ouch. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1198,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1333}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1198,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1333}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1891,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2026}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1891,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2026}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1198,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1333}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1217,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1352}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1217,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1352}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1911,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2046}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1911,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2046}">
Maybe
it’s an American culture thing...that we desire to be seen as perfect.
Maybe, though it’s something much deeper. Maybe, this is a matter of
perception. Maybe it’s a matter of self and how we need to die to that
self. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1275,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1410}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1275,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1410}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1968,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2103}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1968,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2103}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1275,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1410}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1294,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1429}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1294,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1429}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1987,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2122}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1987,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2122}">
How am I being perceived by others? </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1313,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1448}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1313,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1448}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2007,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2142}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2007,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2142}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1313,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1448}" data-mce-bogus="1" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1332,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1467}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1332,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1467}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2026,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2161}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2026,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2161}">
This
is the driving force behind so many decisions, so many things I say, so
much of what I choose to wear or how decorate my home. I want to be
perceived well and that is a good thing. Well, within reason anyway. It
can quickly become about me and how I look on the outside, wanting
everyone to believe I have it altogether instead of what the Lord is
doing on the inside. And believe you me sisters, the struggle is real
here for me especially with certain people whom I long to understand and
just “get me.” I know you have people in your life like that too. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1448,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1583}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1448,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1583}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2141,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2276}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2141,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2276}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1448,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1583}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1467,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1602}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1467,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1602}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2160,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2295}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2160,"w":653,"h":153,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2295}">
Often
people will say to me, “God gave you 8 children because he knew you
could handle it.” I usually laugh out loud. Their look of confusion is
priceless. I laugh because that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Here’s the truth: God gave me 8 children precisely because I cannot do
it without his help. He gave me 8 children to humble me. So he can
parent me while I parent them. Isn’t that just lovely? And so that I
would finally see my great need for him. Lest you are tempted to ask,
“How does she do it?” The short answer is: I don’t know and I often
fail. And mostly I fail when I am trying so hard to be perceived a
certain way instead of living a humble, faithful life of obedience to my
Lord. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1620,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1755}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1620,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1755}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2314,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2449}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2314,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2449}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1620,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1755}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2333,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2468}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2333,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2468}">
Certainly, God had equipped me to
handle my life and grants me the grace to do so but please believe me
when I tell you I have failed magnificently in more important ways than
just accidentally letting out too much pool water.<br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2391,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2526}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2391,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2526}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2391,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2526}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2410,'w':653,'h':96,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2545}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':142,'y':2489,'w':400,'h':16,'abs_x':611,'abs_y':2624}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjyIhXi3sPNXhLuJ4er8LxWdFeWp0I4XQ4YC2SP39mgk-iRYp2Ys7-YkGRTsbu12TYi5s_PBqg8cT7nhjOHPYrj_41QebXV-e4O5f4GsQ6WipBaNeJwNf38Bv6wFhRQRlxUw0f0vu6To/s1600/ONAc0nAkRKCHTsOrhC999g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':142,'y':2410,'w':400,'h':91,'abs_x':611,'abs_y':2545}" border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="1600" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjyIhXi3sPNXhLuJ4er8LxWdFeWp0I4XQ4YC2SP39mgk-iRYp2Ys7-YkGRTsbu12TYi5s_PBqg8cT7nhjOHPYrj_41QebXV-e4O5f4GsQ6WipBaNeJwNf38Bv6wFhRQRlxUw0f0vu6To/s400/ONAc0nAkRKCHTsOrhC999g.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2506,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2641}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2506,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2641}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2506,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2641}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2526,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2661}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2526,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2661}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2526,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2661}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2545,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2680}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2545,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2680}">
God is not a disappointed father, looking down from Heaven, shaming me when I make mistakes...even really expensive ones. There is a difference between a mistake and sin. Sometimes they are tangled up together, sure, but as believers God is not displeased with us because of our genuine mistakes. He just isn't. It isn't an attribute of his. He knows we are human. </div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2622,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2757}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2622,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2757}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2622,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2757}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2641,'w':653,'h':96,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2776}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2641,"w":653,"h":96,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2776}">
In the same way, you as a parent, would never intentionally make a child feel like a disappointment to you because they broke a dish (maybe even an expensive one) on accident, our Heavenly will never shame us for such things. We are human. Things happen. Now, if that same child is throwing the dish at a sibling out of anger, yes then you've got a tangled mess of sin right there. The plate isn't really the issue (even if it breaks), his or her heart is. </div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2737,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2872}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2737,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2872}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2737,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2872}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1640,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1775}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2756,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2891}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2756,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2891}">
See what I mean? </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1697,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1832}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1697,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1832}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2775,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2910}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2775,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2910}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1697,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1832}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1716,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1851}" style="text-align: center;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1716,'w':653,'h':38,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1851}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2794,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2929}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2794,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2929}">
<i>God
is such a loving, faithful father. He wants our hearts to beat in tune
with his and they cannot do that when what preoccupies our minds is
ourselves, our failures and or how we are perceived by others. </i></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1755,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1890}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1755,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1890}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2852,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2987}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2852,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":2987}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1755,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1890}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1774,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1909}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1774,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1909}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2871,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3006}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2871,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3006}">
This is a daily battle for me. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1793,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1928}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1793,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1928}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2890,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3025}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2890,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3025}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1793,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1928}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1812,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1947}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1812,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1947}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2910,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3045}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2910,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3045}">
But maybe it’s not for you. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1832,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1967}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1832,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1967}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2929,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3064}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2929,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3064}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1832,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1967}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1851,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1986}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1851,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':1986}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2948,'w':653,'h':115,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3083}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":2948,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3083}">
Maybe
this struggle of striving after perceived perfection isn’t your jam.
Maybe you do get it right most of the time. Or maybe when you “fail”
it’s easier for you to just accept that you’re not perfect and move on.
Can I ask you hard question? Are you finding your success in getting it
right all the time instead of finding your success in the Lord? What I
mean is that for most of my life I really did get it right (at least on
the outside). I didn’t have a need for a Savior, really. Life went my
way for the most part and life was good. Until it wasn’t and I could no
longer hide. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1966,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2101}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1966,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2101}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3063,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3198}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3063,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3198}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1966,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2101}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1985,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2120}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1985,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2120}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3082,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3217}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3082,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3217}">
There comes this day when none of
this will matter. When none of us can hide. When we will all stand
before our Lord and either we will be clothed in the <span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2006,'w':636,'h':54,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2141}" data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">righteous
blood of the Lamb (Jesus, who became sin for us on the cross) or we
will be found wanting because we never had any need to trust him. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1985,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2120}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3159,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3294}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3159,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3294}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3159,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3294}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3178,'w':653,'h':405,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3313}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':192,'y':3566,'w':300,'h':16,'abs_x':661,'abs_y':3701}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinE-MPyX5MR25vp9V0eNdPC1GrJnfTzDdCFfq7nr68lW8GRxw1DmrNelPxubbpuKclvPTHZtWKzd4sk8oxxOtm6M2-4kqIKSF3FFaok3wOj1_JVPwh2h3rIhcwuQ2AM2STrUoePZTdSvo/s1600/brWJqLAOTEufc78rW3R9qg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':192,'y':3178,'w':300,'h':400,'abs_x':661,'abs_y':3313}" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinE-MPyX5MR25vp9V0eNdPC1GrJnfTzDdCFfq7nr68lW8GRxw1DmrNelPxubbpuKclvPTHZtWKzd4sk8oxxOtm6M2-4kqIKSF3FFaok3wOj1_JVPwh2h3rIhcwuQ2AM2STrUoePZTdSvo/s400/brWJqLAOTEufc78rW3R9qg.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1985,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2120}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3584,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3719}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3584,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3719}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3584,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3719}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2062,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2197}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2062,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2197}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3603,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3738}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3603,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3738}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2064,'w':0,'h':16,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2199}" data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2062,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2197}" data-mce-bogus="1" /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2081,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2216}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2081,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2216}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3622,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3757}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3622,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3757}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2083,'w':105,'h':16,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2218}" data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Are you needy? </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2100,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2235}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2100,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2235}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3642,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3777}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3642,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3777}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2100,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2235}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2120,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2255}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2120,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2255}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3661,'w':653,'h':153,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3796}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3661,"w":653,"h":153,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3796}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2121,'w':641,'h':150,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2256}" data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I
don't want to be, if I'm honest. I shudder to think that I am most of
the time, but there is no getting away from it. No matter how many times
in your life you really mess up, our greatest need isn’t perfection.
Our greatest need cannot and will not ever be fulfilled by doing enough
or being enough. Our greatest need is to be saved and not from our silly
mistakes but from the sin that defines us through and through. The sin
that cannot be cancelled through any number of good things we do or how
perfectly well we live our lives. The amazing dichotomy of it all is
that the blood of Jesus covers your sin (and mine too!) and will make
you perfect so there is never any need to chase perfection in the first
place. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2273,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2408}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2273,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2408}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3814,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3949}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3814,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3949}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2273,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2408}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2292,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2427}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2292,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2427}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3834,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':3969}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3834,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":3969}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2294,'w':647,'h':54,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2429}" data-mce-style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">And
then you are left with this one everlasting desire: to strive after his
heart with your own. But not perfectly, of course...you will probably
still do things like let 1/4 of the pool water out of the pool...or
maybe that’s just me. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2350,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2485}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2350,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2485}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3891,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':4026}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3891,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":4026}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2350,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2485}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2369,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2504}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2369,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2504}">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':3910,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':4045}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":3910,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":4045}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':2369,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':485,'abs_y':2504}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-40165427347144531092019-08-10T13:22:00.003-07:002019-08-11T14:04:42.758-07:00Cheering for You!!<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':8,'w':653,'h':96,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':143}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':8,'w':653,'h':96,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':143}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":8,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":143}">
Click this <a bis_size="{"x":81,"y":9,"w":28,"h":16,"abs_x":550,"abs_y":144}" href="https://soundcloud.com/user-146417796/cheering-for-you/s-PaxFE" target="_blank">link,</a> if you'd rather listen to me read this post. Enjoy! </div>
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":27,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":162}">
<br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":27,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":162}" /></div>
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":46,"w":653,"h":96,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":181}">
Y’all. People are cheering for you. It may not feel like it right now. You may be in the pit but I promise there are people out there rooting you on. They see you. They have not forgotten about you. Time may have marched on. You may have lived far apart for many years but it doesn’t matter. Things change. People change but most of the time...more often than not, they want you to succeed. I was reminded of that this week in a special way.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':104,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':239}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':104,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':239}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":142,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":277}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':104,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':239}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':123,'w':653,'h':245,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':258}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':182,'y':351,'w':320,'h':16,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':486}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pOcEYDmjBv1glAbAwOB9VinSrzKLfO5YSI_UpqNALcMOmMYX-jcqp3-EErcROYu2JqUHwt8q26YTEpDDMC7VqWKa1eGGH2fzz3wXpm2DN-5HI6n50XhnY-hLaAdu_fWwCrX6VxH1b2s/s1600/9B120046-10F6-4D4C-94FC-ADDE8A87E6AD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':182,'y':123,'w':320,'h':240,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':258}" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pOcEYDmjBv1glAbAwOB9VinSrzKLfO5YSI_UpqNALcMOmMYX-jcqp3-EErcROYu2JqUHwt8q26YTEpDDMC7VqWKa1eGGH2fzz3wXpm2DN-5HI6n50XhnY-hLaAdu_fWwCrX6VxH1b2s/s320/9B120046-10F6-4D4C-94FC-ADDE8A87E6AD.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':368,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':503}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":407,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":542}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':368,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':503}" /></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':388,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':523}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br bis_size="{'x':342,'y':388,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':807,'abs_y':523}" /></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':407,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':542}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':407,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':542}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":445,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":580}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':407,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':542}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':426,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':561}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':426,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':561}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":464,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":599}">
It’s easier to believe the nay sayers isn’t it? Those who maybe are in your life more regularly and don’t know how to be encouraging. “Nay, nay, nay,” they say. It’s hard to turn aside and remember what is true isn’t it?</div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':484,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':619}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':484,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':619}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":522,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":657}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':484,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':619}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':503,'w':653,'h':245,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':638}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':182,'y':731,'w':320,'h':16,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':866}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZ8RE_Jrh9t_W-qSq-6PWM72mUuqZgk6UwxPCh6kqKb1PTc2Q-XbyZ0Byq5Vb8JX0vh4q4eHQDbe4I-BHGhQlevtDL836QBH0quejfZ34DBqkF8UwAwURqi6HHIYmg3KQbACrOqoqHjQ/s1600/E2AD932E-A9BC-4066-BFCF-C02E0F402DFA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':182,'y':503,'w':320,'h':240,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':638}" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZ8RE_Jrh9t_W-qSq-6PWM72mUuqZgk6UwxPCh6kqKb1PTc2Q-XbyZ0Byq5Vb8JX0vh4q4eHQDbe4I-BHGhQlevtDL836QBH0quejfZ34DBqkF8UwAwURqi6HHIYmg3KQbACrOqoqHjQ/s320/E2AD932E-A9BC-4066-BFCF-C02E0F402DFA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':748,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':883}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':748,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':883}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":787,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":922}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':748,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':883}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':768,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':903}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':768,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':903}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":806,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":941}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':768,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':903}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':787,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':922}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':787,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':922}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":825,"w":653,"h":76,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":960}">
As I’m typing this out I know you are thinking of at least one of those people you can encourage. Go ahead and reach out. Text or call her. Send her flower. Or chocolate. Tell her you’re cheering for her. Tell her how thankful you are for her friendship even after all these years. And though life has taken you down different paths, you’ll always be cheering for her. </div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':787,'w':653,'h':76,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':922}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":902,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1037}">
<br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":902,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1037}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':864,'w':653,'h':245,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':999}" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a bis_size="{'x':182,'y':1092,'w':320,'h':16,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':1227}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq5HRTx5nz-8urKvl2hr38W4f-EAuR6SUC25YjEhd5A_KDAUH0tq2oyaolDIg0odpkBwlXhlBvNHmcOLDzVho0CFUvpZRt1YrACT7z6Ciqd0RYg98XoY6IT9nFf8rXrW_zpjpKJOgcVs/s1600/65566F9D-CF6E-4AF2-9357-8E549A0E3568.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bis_size="{'x':182,'y':864,'w':320,'h':240,'abs_x':647,'abs_y':999}" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq5HRTx5nz-8urKvl2hr38W4f-EAuR6SUC25YjEhd5A_KDAUH0tq2oyaolDIg0odpkBwlXhlBvNHmcOLDzVho0CFUvpZRt1YrACT7z6Ciqd0RYg98XoY6IT9nFf8rXrW_zpjpKJOgcVs/s320/65566F9D-CF6E-4AF2-9357-8E549A0E3568.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1109,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1244}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1109,'w':653,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1244}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1167,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1302}">
<br bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1109,'w':0,'h':19,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1244}" /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1186,"w":653,"h":57,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1321}">
If I believed in Karma, I would think that somehow I did something to deserve such graces this past week because of some kind of good I have done. <span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">But it wasn’t Karma. It was nothing short of God’s immeasurable and unrelenting grace. </span></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1244,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1379}">
<br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1244,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1379}" /></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1263,"w":653,"h":153,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1398}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">It was such a silly thing I started last week: launching into a business (<a href="https://w8786.myubam.com/1349306" target="_blank">Usborne Books and More</a>) on a whim, almost. And if nothing else, I was able to catch up with friends whom I hadn't chatted with in a long time. A friend who is walking through a very dark season. I was able to speak truth into her life and encourage her heart. A friend whose dad just passed away into Glory. I was the one encouraged here...by her strength in the midst of such great loss and pain. Neither of these women ordered books from me, but you know what, it doesn't matter. A friend showed up to my FB party and just interacted with my friends, whom some of she didn't know. That helped others feel included. I was blessed and so were they. </span></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1416,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1551}">
<br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1416,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1551}" /></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1436,"w":653,"h":115,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1571}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">If you follow me on FB, you know I can't help saying just how I was so blown away at the amount of women who just showed up. Really, I shouldn't have been. God has always graced me with the kind of friends that show up. The books alone, which I was able to purchase with the rewards from my party, will set me up so I'm able to, hopefully, spread my love for quality, educational books with other families and make some extra cash in the process. I'm excited (and a little timid) about the possibilities. </span></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1551,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1686}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1551,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1686}" /></span></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1570,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1705}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I'd say I'm off to a great start. </span></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1589,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1724}">
<br bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1589,"w":0,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1724}" /></div>
</div>
<div bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1128,'w':653,'h':57,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1263}">
<div bis_size="{"x":16,"y":1608,"w":653,"h":19,"abs_x":485,"abs_y":1743}">
<span bis_size="{'x':16,'y':1149,'w':640,'h':35,'abs_x':481,'abs_y':1284}" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">How about you? Who can you let know you're cheering for them today? </span></div>
</div>
</div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-62228973240113853572019-06-26T10:41:00.001-07:002019-06-26T10:42:14.663-07:00Quitting Perfection<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<i>**If you like listening rather than reading please click <a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-146417796/quitting-perfection/s-Qhwj2" target="_blank">here</a>. In the vain of quitting perfection, my recordings will never be rerecorded and edited unless they're terrible and even then it will truly have to be horrible. I don't really have time for any of this, so time for editing my readings doesn't exist either. You have been warned. :)**</i> <br />
<br />
Planning might just be the bane of my existence. Seriously. It is the thing I am constantly running up against, fighting against, and relearning how to do. It is no exaggeration to say that my plans never go as planned. Ever. Ever. Ever. Try as I might they just do not obey. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
You know those people, the ones exactly opposite of me, that are able to plan a trip...say to Colorado and have that trip go off without a hitch. Everything planned goes as planned and if you could grade the trip they would always receive not just and A but an A+. And if there was such a thing they might just receive an A++. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
That’s not me. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
Ever.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
When planning our <i>week long</i> trip to Colorado, I got my ducks in a row early and booked an Air BnB. Now, the last one we stayed in was nice but the area was a bit shady. This was ok, but just proves my point that I’m no good at this. In fact when I told my oldest we were staying at another one she just rolled her eyes at me and laughed. She knows. I just can’t get it right. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
And I didn’t. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
The listing was confusing. Even my hubby, who still sticks around though all my planning mishaps, God bless his heart, said it was confusing. The listing made me think we were renting the entire house not just the mother in law suite in the basement. It was clean and nice with enough beds but let’s just say 1 toilet for 10 people for 4 nights. Good times. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
Nuf’ said.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHc1OD5_3aQ1J28Cxc6ku4DQ_gNoVQxVHQ14NGJDiTTJLxLXLVfGt_UDcLzvxmBy2sQlZdfiNXfcgB4PAkuvqzDA1pBMQ5Ms2ICt3VoatN4G-MCqIoQIGueBNKyNB2Kp8w7so6BktEao/s1600/IMG_0885.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHc1OD5_3aQ1J28Cxc6ku4DQ_gNoVQxVHQ14NGJDiTTJLxLXLVfGt_UDcLzvxmBy2sQlZdfiNXfcgB4PAkuvqzDA1pBMQ5Ms2ICt3VoatN4G-MCqIoQIGueBNKyNB2Kp8w7so6BktEao/s320/IMG_0885.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
I also planned a bunch of hiking for us to do as well asj white water rafting. 70-80 degree weather the week before. 30s and 40s for us. Not a whole lot of time was spent outside. Though we woke up to snow which was fun for about 10 min. til the joyful ringing of kid voices started asking to play in it. We didn’t exactly pajck for snow since the weather was supposed to be nice enough to hike, and river raft. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
On the bright side I introduced my kids to Urkle. Remember Urkle from Family Matters? So funny. They watched the entire first season.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZFernvXWM89n-qopWw739zis0dipCbA_AxI9KkJE3HO9fme1b3sKsn0SVWS7eg1ITh2zmzlAp4LAgjNdDG_bGXiUh4Z7KEPMzhyUMo44d3T1w9T_FzStoEssp1ZqMHzMWbxiWGp46tA/s1600/cant-we-all-ust-getalong-cant-we-all-just-get-53933621.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="501" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZFernvXWM89n-qopWw739zis0dipCbA_AxI9KkJE3HO9fme1b3sKsn0SVWS7eg1ITh2zmzlAp4LAgjNdDG_bGXiUh4Z7KEPMzhyUMo44d3T1w9T_FzStoEssp1ZqMHzMWbxiWGp46tA/s320/cant-we-all-ust-getalong-cant-we-all-just-get-53933621.png" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Just in case you forgot or wearn't watching TV in the 90s)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
This is because of...wait for it...</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
... the time change. That was like a stab in the face every morning. Did you know the sun comes up SHINING <a dir="ltr" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 5:30</a>in Colorado? Nope. Neither did I. And this happens every morning. Yes. Every morning. That’s a lot of 20 min. episodes to watch before 7 when mom gets up. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
I’m really fun in the mornings.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
Said no one about me ever. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
We did do some fun things to be sure but it just wasn’t what I expected. There was the random old school arcade in a bar that we took the kids to.<br />
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKAh0sjF-bUMO5OwLAlquoCaRpRojghUXar6jBPAICiiSRuts3v0-6ZIzSrCKrB46U3fPB0Sa0mS107BGjB2ZTeSmR07OYDZKQF1FpW4oU5VKPGkpfcQVh30SRDqIFCrROAXYabQ5IgsI/s1600/IMG_0841.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKAh0sjF-bUMO5OwLAlquoCaRpRojghUXar6jBPAICiiSRuts3v0-6ZIzSrCKrB46U3fPB0Sa0mS107BGjB2ZTeSmR07OYDZKQF1FpW4oU5VKPGkpfcQVh30SRDqIFCrROAXYabQ5IgsI/s320/IMG_0841.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
No worries, we are responsible parents so we didn’t let them drink anything but water. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Hunter wanted us to leave him there and come back for him on our way home. We told him maybe next time. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">See, super responsible. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">The Art Museum had a ginormous broom and dustpan outside. I tried not to think about how much that was my life imitated in art. And the sign right next to it made me laugh out loud. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLSjoa628IkB-AXodRyYyu6hRVSi_dFDlRfhMjizr8f3ZzGV4N_gm-uj-_mfeEjWjyPVjmvpLyvvpsP-CFVYUR4zhRkH0CAABPqrbsA5aIBIhfSvrQfOVzyaSxBj8lOomGknYoMIytUw/s1600/IMG_0873.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLSjoa628IkB-AXodRyYyu6hRVSi_dFDlRfhMjizr8f3ZzGV4N_gm-uj-_mfeEjWjyPVjmvpLyvvpsP-CFVYUR4zhRkH0CAABPqrbsA5aIBIhfSvrQfOVzyaSxBj8lOomGknYoMIytUw/s320/IMG_0873.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOe69ZgzRaRK-pvV0MdYq0OlkHHpGpJJREc_28Q7Bk0cGaCUyIgO7W6N2_1UfSnus29DnUKQjddL7HE_61MbGBs-mfwHddGzjBVpd4vxaFgQth9mnt905N00Y_bEP6V8apcfzHEPDsMY/s1600/IMG_0871.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOe69ZgzRaRK-pvV0MdYq0OlkHHpGpJJREc_28Q7Bk0cGaCUyIgO7W6N2_1UfSnus29DnUKQjddL7HE_61MbGBs-mfwHddGzjBVpd4vxaFgQth9mnt905N00Y_bEP6V8apcfzHEPDsMY/s320/IMG_0871.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
The award for most random though has to go to the aquarium. Yes, the aquarium which had tigers. Like 3. Giant fish, sharks and 3 tigers. That was interesting for sure. I always feel sorry for big animals in cages (I cried big, fat, juicy tears the first time I saw Shamu perform at Sea World). Especially if the cage is pretty much like a huge aquarium and say, not outside with lots of grass to<br />
roam around in.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOycO1x1RM4f1tVV53yMkBdUNvqgsZsiuY5Rrqazwpqzmf7S-uDLa1oBrKvTMKuqR6qMLxmqeVccAr19zf7HPQvC_nyDn8Q0ls9FoT6j3_UzdfLkuHJX3W7nOWKzcH3gIP1hBfTSehyphenhyphenvI/s1600/IMG_0899.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOycO1x1RM4f1tVV53yMkBdUNvqgsZsiuY5Rrqazwpqzmf7S-uDLa1oBrKvTMKuqR6qMLxmqeVccAr19zf7HPQvC_nyDn8Q0ls9FoT6j3_UzdfLkuHJX3W7nOWKzcH3gIP1hBfTSehyphenhyphenvI/s320/IMG_0899.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">We did hike through the Garden of the Gods. It was beautiful but because it was paved my kids refused to call it hiking and instead complained for the first 20 min. that we were not actually hiking in the Rockies (like planned!!) but walking rather. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NqPi8bMKu7355EHscDrr8Cx5ThfmdpHl1k52pyQAmLCt3M2F25HdY2DyefG39dTVI4Nit3B1twUMJNShO3YayxQpnPYLtGJ2PSLSCUqFP_WnJ-iXiEn1kmvHorto8iSsTJ0EhnZQpjg/s1600/IMG_0926.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NqPi8bMKu7355EHscDrr8Cx5ThfmdpHl1k52pyQAmLCt3M2F25HdY2DyefG39dTVI4Nit3B1twUMJNShO3YayxQpnPYLtGJ2PSLSCUqFP_WnJ-iXiEn1kmvHorto8iSsTJ0EhnZQpjg/s320/IMG_0926.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoqbGx1dMnhbOeoMPmRAyWWgNGhqn8rSRdOi3J3O-QcA4vrvqm6w9X139VVVMvKFCqoD8os5Tz5d52kdreQHglq-FaKCC7-yYWx9WwtYEJuc2RUZ9uXnmV2g-QJGSLBff95SnNGfIY_o/s1600/IMG_0947.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoqbGx1dMnhbOeoMPmRAyWWgNGhqn8rSRdOi3J3O-QcA4vrvqm6w9X139VVVMvKFCqoD8os5Tz5d52kdreQHglq-FaKCC7-yYWx9WwtYEJuc2RUZ9uXnmV2g-QJGSLBff95SnNGfIY_o/s320/IMG_0947.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">They were probably right. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Then there was the <a href="https://teachthemdiligently.net/" target="_blank">Teach Them Diligently’s</a> home school conference which was the exact opposite of what I expected. Conferences tend to overwhelm me: too many people, and total information overload. I begin to feel like I can’t ever do any of what I’m “supposed” to be doing. Sadly, I compare myself or my family to other families. So a homeschooling conference can bring out the worst in what already is a struggle for me. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Why in the world do you go then?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">I don’t know. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">No, I’m kidding. I’m so encouraged by being around like-minded people. This is especially true when you’re taking “the road less traveled” and heaping all the responsibility of your 8 kids education on your tiny shoulders. And this year at the conference my heart (and my husband’s</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">) was so encouraged and challenged. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Side note: if you ask my Love where our kids go to school he will say (and I quote), “My wife homeschools them.” He doesn’t even pretend. He’s awesome. And is awesome to support all of it and lead us through it and though he probably won’t teach a subject most years he still engages and loves it all. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtcfkNAIuUM4I3rm5d0dzUtyLePtEZ9P9STuxRzybJA5m9JxkvmNCI59CbCIy0TmWHiHBca0_55ErA3Fkx1yXG6lWeqyi2RFTodKU7-bZH5kwSWtRU1FgwsPQyMHJbqGApshuM4GlK4Y/s1600/IMG_0945.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtcfkNAIuUM4I3rm5d0dzUtyLePtEZ9P9STuxRzybJA5m9JxkvmNCI59CbCIy0TmWHiHBca0_55ErA3Fkx1yXG6lWeqyi2RFTodKU7-bZH5kwSWtRU1FgwsPQyMHJbqGApshuM4GlK4Y/s320/IMG_0945.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
Moving on. I do have a point, I think. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
It isn’t a failure to do your best. You’re not failing if your plans don’t work out just right....if the whipping cream doesn’t actually whip and the dirt cake is just covered in not so much cream. Yup, that was me today. And you know what? Maybe just go ahead and quit setting the bar so high for yourself (and those around you). Join the okayist club (we have T-shirts) and give up on that whole perfection idea. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
All your kids will remember is the time you went to Colorado and watched a bunch of Family Matters in some stranger’s basement and they’ll probably think it was awesome anyway. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSrCJ_sgz2T_HUiUJPdRQsiZGuz_SY6AsDhOemif03Vx_y9Bj5TMkH4VvS_H8H5UQJCtUaXYq9rVbDU2rUdlhEAXMHzhfIKCTYi3_MD1u-4pMmCOuStpEN7uXtWc0v4-WLWZiPFhVo4QQ/s1600/IMG_0914+2.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSrCJ_sgz2T_HUiUJPdRQsiZGuz_SY6AsDhOemif03Vx_y9Bj5TMkH4VvS_H8H5UQJCtUaXYq9rVbDU2rUdlhEAXMHzhfIKCTYi3_MD1u-4pMmCOuStpEN7uXtWc0v4-WLWZiPFhVo4QQ/s320/IMG_0914+2.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-20325279656789459912019-01-26T14:06:00.001-08:002019-01-26T14:06:12.977-08:00Hello 2019To listen to me read this post (rather unprofessionally) click <a href="https://soundcloud.com/kari-pope/hello2019/s-hSeMK" target="_blank">here</a>. Otherwise, all you traditional readers...read on!<br />
<br />
Well, Hello 2019. We are already 26 days in. You certainly snuck up on me per usual. The days have gone by slowly but 2018 sure did pass by in a flash. This probably has to do with the half a year we spent preparing for and then moving. Again. This is our 5th military move but we have, in every duty location, moved into another house after the first year. That would make it 9 moves altogether with 2, then 4, then 8 kids. It is an exhausting, exhilarating life. A life that I love. Also, a life that passes by quickly as the years increase.<br />
<br />
New Years Day had not really registered in my brain until I went to the YMCA two days after the actual new year. I don't know why. Well, time is so weird isn't it? Mothering, schooling, wifing, doing all the things leaves me feeling, many times, in a time fog. How about you? I can hardly remember what the actual day is much less the date. You Type A people out there...I drive you crazy. It's hard being friends with me. I'm sorry. I forget things. A lot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4v78HF6vPYSBhjx5LWVFXhZ_xwvnCXfoY2ReiEfr7_M79t5uipyUBSiRmkviQFil2kyJV-TYVTqaqY3itaG51qAMIgWAb5hzsj1MNSDy8la-MUsTaIKjJZ9vL18TfXnqXLHv4YFlddEo/s1600/DSC_0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4v78HF6vPYSBhjx5LWVFXhZ_xwvnCXfoY2ReiEfr7_M79t5uipyUBSiRmkviQFil2kyJV-TYVTqaqY3itaG51qAMIgWAb5hzsj1MNSDy8la-MUsTaIKjJZ9vL18TfXnqXLHv4YFlddEo/s400/DSC_0059.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So there I am at the Y, standing on the precipice of the workout room a couple days after the ball dropped, slightly throwing up in my mouth because I could not for the life of me find an empty treadmill. And yes, there is a maximum amount of treadmills. No shortage of them. Just a major increase from the 5 people max I see there on a regular basis at 4 in the afternoon. Despair tried to rear its ugly head as I scanned the room because almost every other machine was being used as well. Every. Other. Machine.<br />
<br />
If I wasn't so distraught it might have been a bit comical. All those nongymish people using machines...trying to figure out what body part goes where. I pushed aside the desire growing inside me to run away, grab my kids and not come back for 3 more weeks (I might be somewhat of an introvert. And drama queen.) I climbed, instead, on this horrific machine that does a great job, not of working out out ones body but rather at helping you to feel like you a going to fall off of it and break rather important body part. Which, at 36 now, might not be so easily recovered.<br />
<br />
That trip to the Y was a slap in the face kind of wake up call, "HEY, Kari Jo...it's another year!" Interestingly enough, it doesn't feel much different than the last few days of my life. Hey, maybe that's why it didn't register... It also didn't feel much different than the entire last year of my life.<br />
<br />
Because it isn't.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLqEZ65nzx6cO26aj2z3RVBJGit8bY7s9y-7pTrPIUW8b76JppMYK0bnxh9gJmXcqFr3eb2aWoH2uXnEA6xGuQXH48HAu0vi82_-5qM2IjggXrdNQC0VFWbpRMc1XHcHjcZ2OyqanWkM/s1600/DSC_0068-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLqEZ65nzx6cO26aj2z3RVBJGit8bY7s9y-7pTrPIUW8b76JppMYK0bnxh9gJmXcqFr3eb2aWoH2uXnEA6xGuQXH48HAu0vi82_-5qM2IjggXrdNQC0VFWbpRMc1XHcHjcZ2OyqanWkM/s400/DSC_0068-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
And just maybe the reason I won't see most of those people at the Y in 3 weeks is because of just that. In many cases, there isn't actual transformation happening. Well, not in the way that we want it to happen anyway. Most of us want overnight transformation. I'm including myself here. Whether it's our kids, our marriage, our spiritual life, our answers to questions that are haunting us, our weight loss, our desire to rearrange the pantry, or any other plethora of changes we would like to make, we want transformation quick. To be fair, some change does come quickly but far too often we think faster is better right? Well, maybe if life were a sprint. I like sprinting. But it's not. Life is a marathon. One very, very long marathon.<br />
<br />
There is a reason I have never ran a marathon and it's probably the same reason you haven't ran one: I don't want to. And I don't want to because it is hard. And long. Really, really long. It's like running to your grave and then celebrating it joyfully. I go run 4 miles and feel like it will never end. Ever. Then I get home and I'm happy I ran, but I don't really want to run farther. Or maybe ever again. But I do because I know it's transforming me (or at least keeping some of the calories I enjoy eating from transforming my bum).<br />
<br />
It is much easier to conform isn't it. To just let life pass by and act a bit like a spectator, taking in all the good bits (and not so good) bits of it. Conforming to something is a pretty passive affair. It doesn't take a lot of trying or thinking. It is easy. You see, conforming is a type of transformation that happens to us. We let it happen to us. We make the easy choice of not going to the gym and eating that super family sized bag of Doritos when we've had a bad day instead of going on a long walk and eating a stick of celery. We make that choice often enough, taking the easy way out and our physical bodies are weak and out of shape. It's the same in our spiritual life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqeyR0a_mHppfdY4v6Sw6vM5Ap7oBQ_yi6pZFcdssPlL9LawsdgIP_mqqj51kG0AVkBPTg-njotrKK4h5Ai9ePehdHUmdR1_9-XtbM5ZlknBaPgs01ll2FEpF-IK6dh9NXNnOkbLEcy8/s1600/DSC_0063-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqeyR0a_mHppfdY4v6Sw6vM5Ap7oBQ_yi6pZFcdssPlL9LawsdgIP_mqqj51kG0AVkBPTg-njotrKK4h5Ai9ePehdHUmdR1_9-XtbM5ZlknBaPgs01ll2FEpF-IK6dh9NXNnOkbLEcy8/s400/DSC_0063-2.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Ok who am I kidding? Who actually eats celery outside of soup? Not me. It's like putting grass in your mouth and chewing on it. What a weird food. I would choose an apple but that's just me. But I digress... again...<br />
<br />
Make no mistake. We are either being transformed by passively conforming or actively transforming into something else. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+12:2&version=ESV" target="_blank">God's word</a> tells his children to "not be conformed to the pattern of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of your minds." And the pattern of our lives will either be conformed by passively taking in our lives not discerning what is good, or better or even best instead of being transformed by His very words of life. The Spirit will work through his Word to transform my heart and I will have to make the hard choices. It is a both/and reality here. It is active on His part <i>and</i> on my part. I will have to make it a priority to consistently read the Bible for myself even when I would rather bing watch Gilmore Girls or Poldark (I'm watching Luke and Lorelai break up again. Insert tear emoji here) because the day was long and hard. <br />
<br />
Recently, <a href="http://dishesanddreams.com/" target="_blank">a friend</a> said she was encouraged at her ladies Bible study to, "Love the Lord by reading his Word." And further, "Let the Lord love you by reading his Word." Never in my life had I thought about the Bible this way. As a young believer I was told on many occasions that I should read the Bible. It's what Christians do. These are both true statements. I'm not sure just how helpful they are though, especially to a new Christian. And still, so often I "should" on myself, thinking that I "should" be reading the Bible but then I don't. Guilt then ensues, of course. So, so often I don't desire to read it. It becomes about a checklist...something I "should" do and not a loving relationship. However, if I think about what a gift of love His words are to me and that I can love him through reading his Words, and communing with him, then I know I always desire to do that. Always. No, I may not always "feel" like reading my Bible, but I will say I do love the Lord. I can't not love him. I always want to love him which means I always want to read his word despite how my feelings feel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FnF98pKRgkP1cuFpT8iEBLH3qg0Y3krpYn7Ial-isuLV_xKt_4v59ViIZfnWarWvaKLIOB5DsdLJ6UAkR6VQw0LDMxNFkRuJUvh7sr8DmVscCSaLqg-g9rBYw_dbDjp6HGw4p3k76Uo/s1600/DSC_0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FnF98pKRgkP1cuFpT8iEBLH3qg0Y3krpYn7Ial-isuLV_xKt_4v59ViIZfnWarWvaKLIOB5DsdLJ6UAkR6VQw0LDMxNFkRuJUvh7sr8DmVscCSaLqg-g9rBYw_dbDjp6HGw4p3k76Uo/s400/DSC_0050.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Only in 2019 can you say things like: how my feelings feel and it be correct grammar.<br />
<br />
Think about it this way: the Lord is communing with you as you read the Words he gifted you. What is more precious than that?<br />
<br />
There are so many times, sadly, I shoo my children away when they want to tell me something. This is especially true of TV shows they have watched. I just don't want to listen about the newest episode of Bunk'd. Sometimes I slap on a happy momma face smile and fake it but so many other times I instinctively try to find something for them to do and protect my ears from hearing all about Emma's newest crush. How sad is that!<br />
<br />
Listen, God NEVER treats us this way. When we approach the throne of grace, he is there to listen and commune with us through his Word. The Creator-God of the universe is there. It's simply amazing. And I cannot do this alone. I am never alone in this which is good, good news because I cannot run this marathon alone. I need the grace of the path directing me. I need someone to show me where to go. I need mercy in the directions, but also the mercy even to move along the path at a snails pace. And as He guides me through the long, arduous, wispy journey ahead I will have to take the hard steps forward, knowing that sometimes I will take the wrong path or want to give up or get distracted by unimportant things that seem really important etc., but also knowing transformation is taking place. And, friends, isn't that exactly where we want to be?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRdrSr4vg_yIgORtR-dcTIyIsELJZ2pqMAYkbWDYbO4WEhSeW7rzGim4P80BpULtF1ag5RBHSZSbR8aNosCH2iGkoM85l0ucbGrtSZssn2845CEpCR_Jn-KZ-ncUzZ-gUZtgNG_rasxs/s1600/DSC_0045-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRdrSr4vg_yIgORtR-dcTIyIsELJZ2pqMAYkbWDYbO4WEhSeW7rzGim4P80BpULtF1ag5RBHSZSbR8aNosCH2iGkoM85l0ucbGrtSZssn2845CEpCR_Jn-KZ-ncUzZ-gUZtgNG_rasxs/s400/DSC_0045-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Part of ann older hymn puts it this way:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I will hasten to him</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hasten so glad and free</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jesus greatest highest</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I will come to thee</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am resolved</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To go to the Savior</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Leaving my sin and strife</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He is the true one</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He is the just one </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He hast the words of life..."<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-84580348917795075162018-07-03T09:55:00.000-07:002018-07-03T10:10:11.642-07:00GoodbyesLess than 4 weeks. 28 days. 4 more Sundays. The countdown has begun to another goodbye. That's nothing in the grand scheme of this wispy life we live. It's heartbreaking. I want to dig my heals into the rough dirt in front of the first home that we've ever owned and say, "No thanks. It's just too hard."<br />
<br />
I had a dear friend many years ago tell me that she wished she could scoop all those she has held dear over the years, take them to an island (preferably without bugs) and live together. I love that. She knows all too well the toll goodbyes take on our very human hearts and has had to say it more times that even we have.<br />
<br />
I wish I could say that moving often helps me treasure each moment, but just like you I get caught up in the todays and forget. 3 years always seems like a long time. Always. So when I pick up a Chatbook thrown askew across the room, I stopped just a moment to take a look. Tears fell. Look at that boy who was just a silly 3 year old and now, how in the world can he be almost 8? Life moves hastily along and it often leaves me feeling like I'm trying to hold onto sand poured into my hands. I just can't hold onto it fast enough. Squeeze and squeeze as I may and still it falls fast.<br />
<br />
I know all the right and good answers:<br />
<br />
This heartbreak points me to my need for Christ--He is my hope, my treasure, my all in all<br />
Heaven is my true home--for those in Him we will be together forever<br />
I can't imagine not knowing all these beautiful people from all these different places. Not a single one.<br />
God is near.<br />
He is good. Always.<br />
He loves me.<br />
He will never leave me.<br />
He understands.<br />
He knows loss in a way that I never can. <a href="http://www.redeemercommunitychurch.org/sermons/jesus-like-us-jesus-not-like-us/" target="_blank">Truly he is like us. And He is not like us</a>.<br />
Loving well always means great loss, if even it is at goodbye.<br />
<br />
<br />
These truths give me peace and comfort because I cling them but sometimes our feelings take longer to catch up. Right now friends, it just feels overwhelmingly sad. And that is ok. It should feel sad. I used to try to shove the grief and loss aside turning it into doing. Or just concentrating on the next exciting place leaving no room for true sadness. This would leave me broken and in pain for weeks after a move. There is always a lot of doing and excitement during moving time around here so that is an easy way to channel sadness. And though, I don't want it to overcome me, I do want to allow time for the Lord to work it out in me. There is something about being truly thankful, knowing I don't deserve all the blessings and all the friends---their love, help, sharing of lives-- and somehow He always meets me with more than I could ever ask, hope or imagine for in each place that makes for a double edge sword of pain and wonderment and worship.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/witKT8Y6Da8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/witKT8Y6Da8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<div class="Kvw2ac" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin: 0px 16px;">
<div class="G1VCxe kno-fb-ctx" jsname="rdVbIe" style="margin-top: 12px;">
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are my joy, You are my song</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">You are the well, the One I'm drawing from</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
You are my refuge, my whole life long</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where else would I go?</div>
</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surely my God is the strength of my soul</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">Your love defends me, Your love defends me</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
And when I feel like I'm all alone</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your love defends me, Your love defends me</div>
</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Day after day, night after night</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">I will remember, You're with me in this fight</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Although the battle, it rages on</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
The war already won</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
I know the war is already won</div>
</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surely my God is the strength of my soul</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">Your love defends me, Your love defends me</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
And when I feel like I'm all alone</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your love defends me, Your love defends me</div>
</span></div>
<div jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
We sing Hallelujah</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">You're my portion</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
My salvation</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Hallelujah</div>
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="G1VCxe kno-fb-ctx" jsname="wq5Syf">
<div class="iw7h9e" data-mh="-1" jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surely my God is the strength of my soul</div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge">Your love defends me, Your love defends me</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
And when I feel like I'm all alone</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your love defends me, Your love defends me</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Surely my God is the strength of my soul</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your love defends me, Your love defends me</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
And when I feel like I'm all alone</div>
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your love defends me, Your love defends me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">written by Matt Maher and Hannah Kerr</span></div>
</span></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd" data-mh="96" data-mhc="1" jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 12px; max-height: 96px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd" data-mh="48" data-mhc="1" jsname="U8S5sf" style="line-height: 1.24; margin-bottom: 0px; max-height: 48px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge"></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="xpdxpnd kno-fb-ctx R5GB6b v2b5e Kvw2ac" data-mh="58" data-mhc="1" data-ved="0ahUKEwizndKZsYPcAhVC1oMKHe_rAAwQycMBCC4oADAB" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin: 16px 16px 0px; max-height: 58px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div>
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-77296714645308140132018-06-13T12:36:00.002-07:002018-06-13T12:36:40.799-07:00Just a Little Taste of Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Dear West Texas,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nDw6VV0nmxExAjWTElgUmD7FuBBWeaop8lKwJ7YjpIp_HwMnvAuLtMeqCvLyVTcsI34AWZPUsfUK6Pk-JWdt8LIVVqrm0aYwS12DDPHdeYqT8soj4wyi2en28F6ElbtwW6yQychM258/s1600/DSC_1109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nDw6VV0nmxExAjWTElgUmD7FuBBWeaop8lKwJ7YjpIp_HwMnvAuLtMeqCvLyVTcsI34AWZPUsfUK6Pk-JWdt8LIVVqrm0aYwS12DDPHdeYqT8soj4wyi2en28F6ElbtwW6yQychM258/s320/DSC_1109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You are flat.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Like see 2 miles down the road flat.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You are full of dust and dirt.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You give new meaning to the word windy.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Tumbleweeds are for real. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vZmRJhwgbcmXHVkME9QCzQwcyhqNNZMNUevnFxS2PT8hx2gTDNP_wwXJwBmSqm8-mGSRKPAZzu4JXeK-2Q60zOYwvHQlcnANCMjckAMD3JrEiV2IPIZv4HrLVZv0dIokmUylJoi72Dw/s1600/DSC_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vZmRJhwgbcmXHVkME9QCzQwcyhqNNZMNUevnFxS2PT8hx2gTDNP_wwXJwBmSqm8-mGSRKPAZzu4JXeK-2Q60zOYwvHQlcnANCMjckAMD3JrEiV2IPIZv4HrLVZv0dIokmUylJoi72Dw/s320/DSC_0018.JPG" width="214" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You stink.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Literally. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You often either smell of feed lot or oil fields.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Oh and, </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Could you please make up your mind about the weather? </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
One day you are hotter than you know where,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and the next I'm shoveling out our suburban from under 8 ft. of wind blown snow.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MfAnL1qNfgh5tr7YtcExCh_8WcnbzbpL26XqC0O88oiwWp-mhkW4kjxdOQpU-nbjhCudDWj8K9v1GWEw0noWBISSqNqh62tS0UL7NpqGZu2vIgaLsFkKdp5uqozdHRLnrPxjOiCk7u8/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MfAnL1qNfgh5tr7YtcExCh_8WcnbzbpL26XqC0O88oiwWp-mhkW4kjxdOQpU-nbjhCudDWj8K9v1GWEw0noWBISSqNqh62tS0UL7NpqGZu2vIgaLsFkKdp5uqozdHRLnrPxjOiCk7u8/s320/DSC_0021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You aren't much to look at, really.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yes, I said it aloud. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Or wrote it, rather. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You’re pretty ugly. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Except for those sunsets.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yes, those are the best.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWekwO5mfM1wWUNHIDbGXKsIOay-j1EtUcXoZijTEzSxiWZK3d6iwPICFG5Uhaf1tfPq98y_rF8lrChcdv2IKDUfTf5Vf7QBdd57-RndF_3UXdKRtb0U-p0XjVr5iYSRAkTYq3tUCsDE/s1600/DSC_1114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWekwO5mfM1wWUNHIDbGXKsIOay-j1EtUcXoZijTEzSxiWZK3d6iwPICFG5Uhaf1tfPq98y_rF8lrChcdv2IKDUfTf5Vf7QBdd57-RndF_3UXdKRtb0U-p0XjVr5iYSRAkTYq3tUCsDE/s320/DSC_1114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HxCWEYwryCmLfJ9Gh7gIxYDiDQ62MF3AiX63MMvXAuT9u1MpF6gxcacEXacT5R4cheKmb4J43xOiOC5PvkbUFUUdh_ohT-AAw3kjuhxwXskvD5CbwzivX-_cWVSCTtD7ZR8X7Y9rPJE/s1600/DSC_1095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HxCWEYwryCmLfJ9Gh7gIxYDiDQ62MF3AiX63MMvXAuT9u1MpF6gxcacEXacT5R4cheKmb4J43xOiOC5PvkbUFUUdh_ohT-AAw3kjuhxwXskvD5CbwzivX-_cWVSCTtD7ZR8X7Y9rPJE/s320/DSC_1095.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And still,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
in your hands you hold my most favorite childhood memories.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Of summers gone by too quickly.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Of cousin shenanigans...</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
painting the "H" house,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
four wheeler rides,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
climbing into the forbidden cotton bins,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and "running away."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You are a treasure trove of memories for me. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And now, my kiddos as well. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And I love that. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xMJUN_DRkE5RHKkU4GYF4YFA84lCvQHNz0l0a5SaNhQnG5L8_0nQKSGqYIwE9j40pyJ85Itvv3P98NXwVgvASvQ6Ioro0rvctMrjqWTtqyNXSa1HgpWYHiFjWsudXzZGQjG-kzqc9w8/s1600/DSC_1098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xMJUN_DRkE5RHKkU4GYF4YFA84lCvQHNz0l0a5SaNhQnG5L8_0nQKSGqYIwE9j40pyJ85Itvv3P98NXwVgvASvQ6Ioro0rvctMrjqWTtqyNXSa1HgpWYHiFjWsudXzZGQjG-kzqc9w8/s320/DSC_1098.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For all your stinky stink and wind,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
you are still one of their very favorite places to visit.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
In this life of military moves and of heartbreaking goodbyes,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
you, West Texas, feel like home. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It’s not where I’m from, </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But really it is. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06Xpc8qp95VlDF8U44nQelMSJ2TsX0rtydY7aTWNoerkiWKlswB45Ji8dFYRy1IYLfQxal10BPMouYn-_2wFK_FLuTgc0tnBfWIfBQODOttSi-oufSJIkA8OIV5ffoc3oUJZaEBtp2A0/s1600/DSC_1099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06Xpc8qp95VlDF8U44nQelMSJ2TsX0rtydY7aTWNoerkiWKlswB45Ji8dFYRy1IYLfQxal10BPMouYn-_2wFK_FLuTgc0tnBfWIfBQODOttSi-oufSJIkA8OIV5ffoc3oUJZaEBtp2A0/s320/DSC_1099.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You are the place where my gypsy heart</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
feels most at home. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Funny how going back to the place that I grew up as a child</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
doesn't hold the same treasure that you do.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sure wonderful memories are surely there,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
but home is different isn't it?</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrhaf84RD_PL4rLNgkA7RnvjNNQsDJMe3S_XspHth6D7T4nBEdC1v8Pw9hxRFEVbHoal_5kfEqzMGjK3f_UNduMYRSt0tNQQqnbY0EMiV6CifhWtYOKLlUuaCvdVuvWmnyjT2t3KViwA/s1600/DSC_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrhaf84RD_PL4rLNgkA7RnvjNNQsDJMe3S_XspHth6D7T4nBEdC1v8Pw9hxRFEVbHoal_5kfEqzMGjK3f_UNduMYRSt0tNQQqnbY0EMiV6CifhWtYOKLlUuaCvdVuvWmnyjT2t3KViwA/s320/DSC_1104.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You're where I was so, very lost.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Where I met my Love.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Where I thrived playing the sport I loved most.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
where I was finally found.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykE2bM1-O_TG6Aw7pwytzf2lmMwvoBoll8z0DFzxTt_mi_Ur7Dylb-QopWp1QkD6-n50sYrYNGxFRiBcRNwKEs_dZ-csR-bZ5Mj2z7A8-8t4pkwR0e-z_B50YbgZ1IrEUX33yX6bH-To/s1600/DSC_1105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykE2bM1-O_TG6Aw7pwytzf2lmMwvoBoll8z0DFzxTt_mi_Ur7Dylb-QopWp1QkD6-n50sYrYNGxFRiBcRNwKEs_dZ-csR-bZ5Mj2z7A8-8t4pkwR0e-z_B50YbgZ1IrEUX33yX6bH-To/s320/DSC_1105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Truly, this military life holds no home for our family.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We are always keenly aware that we are just</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
aliens.Foreigners until Jesus returns.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But still, it's a blessing to have just a taste.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiylCFN3XA1-ANQpHwFQWMpnrzLl_Bj96y5wdAipgWJrD9hTgWcc-YhUl6NIObpjjKLTvkunUnlSgHvU7AaCcPs0xDPaWGaN9LOj4IZH6ctlCWNooI4-GesaVLDJyzRzqa1h4CabUbV8zA/s1600/DSC_1118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiylCFN3XA1-ANQpHwFQWMpnrzLl_Bj96y5wdAipgWJrD9hTgWcc-YhUl6NIObpjjKLTvkunUnlSgHvU7AaCcPs0xDPaWGaN9LOj4IZH6ctlCWNooI4-GesaVLDJyzRzqa1h4CabUbV8zA/s320/DSC_1118.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Just a little taste.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Of home.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTlCdfqKIpDmx4Lpl7IuCIQCDIBep_W-izWpgAKiIIctDkoSqfKhlPc6p4F4ZdkuQBamnDJLz2NsnI0_oXDoHUJhnoRnEQ74BMsad7V-w6-23HI32F6HN6-wyySaiDUm4Hip9YEQJfZk/s1600/DSC_1123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /><br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-10127055201704498692018-03-11T11:04:00.002-07:002018-03-11T11:10:17.588-07:00A Life Remembered: Loving Well Many times I don't post what I write. So many times. And this is good because sometimes my writing, at least to me, can feel like venting. And who, in this world needs one more person venting on them? It happens all the time, with many a scroll or click, I feel the weight of someone else's anger. Usually, it does nothing to help any given situation. Usually, it's all misunderstood and thus only pushes us farther apart. Only further and further apart.<br />
<br />
After the shootings in Florida and some scrolling of my own via Facebook. I was ready to write. And so I did. But I didn't post. Y'all don't need me venting on you. My intention is to always encourage, even if it is through some tough words of truth. Venting isn't encouraging. It isn't uplifting. It isn't kind. It reeks of frustration, snark and anger. It doesn't build up or seek the good of others. There is a fine line between lamenting (which is good and right) and venting. Often times when the line blurs, I won't post. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
My focus changed soon after those terrifying shootings because someone that I and so many others held dear, passed away into Glory. The Bible calls this "sleeping" because it isn't really death for those that are in Christ. And it's a weird reality not to feel the weightiness of death for someone who's words of encouragement still ring true in my heart. It's weird to have joy, hope and freedom when thinking about someone that I held so dear dying. Part of this happiness was because in this death my Nannie was finally released from the strangle hold that Dementia grasped onto her until her very last days. She is now fully who she was always meant to be. It's an amazing revelation to think about.<br />
<br />
Death is a sensitive subject and certainly, I know that even when believers die, this is often met with great and worthy sadness. I would never pretend to know or tell someone else how they need to grieve. At this particular funeral, remembering whom we have lost was indeed extremely sad, but remembering what she gained was even of greater comfort.<br />
<br />
And so, I'm not downplaying death. I want to always point you to the Author and finisher of our faith and in Him is where my Nannie found her strength. Often we think of strength in terms of physical strength. Or even emotional strength that some seem to easily possess. Nannie certainly did not possess physical strength in a way that would be admired greatly by others. I'm not sure she even weighed more than 100 pounds most of her life. Her strength was not physical, or emotional even, it was in the way that Christ enabled her to love people so well. It was love that made her a force to reckon with. It was her love that she extended to every person she met. Every person. And from the first time she met me, she loved me well, which is saying a lot.<br />
<br />
This could not have been easy. Sure I was sweet most of the time, but looking at this (often scantily clad young lady hanging on her grandson) it would have been easy for her to snub her Christian nose downcast at me and make me feel unwanted. But she never did. Ever. She never asked me to be something that I wasn't. I did not have to pretend to be something I wasn't to get her to approve of me. Certainly, there were things she didn't approve of, but she didn't ask me to rid myself of them (or even make me feel like I should) <i>before</i> she could start loving me. She just did. Always.<br />
<br />
Every person at her humble funeral said the same thing in so many words; "She loved me so well." Over and over again. It was like her life mantra. A drumbeat. No, a heartbeat. That theme of loving well and praying often easily flowed off the lips of those that came to celebrate her life. It was such a triumphant reminder of what really matters in a day in age where all the venting often leaves me feeling parched and at the same time like I'm drowning in the <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Edge-Dark-Darkness-Wingfeather-Saga/dp/1400073847/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1520792840&sr=8-1&keywords=andrew+peterson+wingfeather+saga" target="_blank">Deep Sea of Darkness</a>. It was like catching a buoy of truth that I had forgotten. I cannot solve all the worlds problems. I cannot have all the answers and try to fix every single thing. I cannot get people to actually listen to each other and realize we have more in common than not especially via social media. But I can, by the grace of God, love those around me well.<br />
<br />
As the world rightly celebrated and morned with the Graham family at the death of their beloved, my Nannie was in the same category it's just she didn't have crowds flocking to hear her speak. No, she didn't have one single microphone but what she did have was a faith that splashed onto every single person she met in a way that was winsome and wise. She had a tongue that always encouraged, but never flattered and spoke truth. She had ears that listened before she spoke and hands that hugged, served and loved. She could be silly and loved to laughed. She always said that when we left she wouldn't let our PawPaw wipe the kids' handprints off the sliding glass door. She would tell him, "Just one more day, PawPaw!"<br />
<br />
You see, she always knew what really mattered.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafSm4ZcHk_5evu5n6gaH_Z0mybV2JvwLNNdNIo-XoHXv4JzS8Q6-g1iLTlW-zXb0W8ZiLewoldmJVoNL7gEZvaHP4kPIzoyV-Au5Z1JZSjJOaQPCRBQmEMd2-DLppDIWhb4XUK58fjvc/s1600/nanniepapa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="960" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafSm4ZcHk_5evu5n6gaH_Z0mybV2JvwLNNdNIo-XoHXv4JzS8Q6-g1iLTlW-zXb0W8ZiLewoldmJVoNL7gEZvaHP4kPIzoyV-Au5Z1JZSjJOaQPCRBQmEMd2-DLppDIWhb4XUK58fjvc/s320/nanniepapa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-28653423206887780762018-02-04T10:06:00.001-08:002018-02-04T10:08:42.475-08:00I Wish Social Media Would Somehow Disappear. A dear friend recently said to me, "I wish social media would somehow disappear." Honestly, I tend to agree. Except it's not. So I have to learn to meander my way through it in a way that is honoring to the Lord. This, friends, is hard. And here is why...<br />
<br />
1) It's fake. You are seeing (depending on how much a person posts) maybe 10% of a person's life. So many people don't know how to be authentic. I had to quit following a gal who has chosen to move into a not-so desirable part of town to minister to people. I admire this. I really do and I actually really like her as a person. On more than one occasion she has said that she doesn't show the really hard parts because that would further the stereotypes that already exist about the poor. While, I agree, some people, sadly, would use that as an excuse to further marginalize others, but it also does not paint a complete picture of just how hard it is to live where she lives. As authentic as she wants it to be, it isn't. I want the whole, ugly picture. Not part of it. At least if it's supposed to be. <br />
<br />
2) People that are authentic are often times torn apart by other's opinions. I only follow people who are willing to say that life is hard. That the rooms don't stay clean and their kids don't always obey. This helps us relate to one another instead up prop each other up. Sadly, though it's these people, the ones to really open up and let others in that get the rudest comments of all. <br />
<br />
3) Because most of us don't know how to be authentic and we end up comparing ourselves to the picture instead of the reality. So yeah, I see the picture that lady has a beautiful home school room with children working on a sculpture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa while she reads aloud from The <i>Story of the World</i> and I think, "Whaaaaaaat???? Whyyyyy can't my house look like that? Why don't my kids like to build towers like that?? They just like to build guns!! They're for sure going to grow up and want to kill someone!" What this gal doesn't say is that this is a "moment" in her life. Her kids are just like your kids. Rotten. A lot of the time, anyway. And right after she took that picture the tower fell apart because someone didn't want to share the environmentally safe glue.<br />
<br />
4) Words don't matter any more and we are cowards. This is possibly one of the saddest parts of all. And this isn't just the kids is it? There is something about the anonymity of the Internet that makes us ok with being jerks with our words. Grown up folks just acting a fool. I mean, really. Ok, so I know that people have always been jerks. There is nothing new here. The difference is that I'm not looking at a person (whom hopefully, I could have compassion for even if we disagree). I'm looking at a screen. I'm certain that half of what people say to complete strangers online, would never be said aloud to an actual person. I had a women recently tell me via Instagram that I should "worry about the environment more because all those kids you're raising aren't going to have a planet to live on." Yes, I've had people say this to my face too, but still this lady doesn't know me from Adam. And at least those people said it to my face.<br />
<br />
5) Our self importance has become greater than ever and we have forgotten that it's ok for someone to have another opinion that might not line up with our own. We get on a soapbox about every.single.little.itty.bitty.tiny.thing. All the things. We have an opinion them all. The lady mentioned above was chastising another women for nursing too long. It had zero to do with environmental problems. This lady? Doesn't have a kid. Not a single.one. 'Nuf said. I think I proved my point.<br />
<br />
6) We don't even know truth from opinion. Because we live in a post modern society, where whatever floats your boat is truth leaves us without a compass so we feel like things that are mere opinion, like how long a mother chooses to nurse an infant, is Gospel. And it's not. It's just not. Mothers and women can be the worst. There are certain things that I feel very strongly are best, whether it is just a simple matter of life, motherhood, wifeing, working or whatever, but I have learned that humility goes a long way towards encouragement and most people are just don't the best with what they have. That mom doesn't need to hear about how she is being selfish by continuing to nurse. She just doesn't. Of course, there is a way in which to say ones opinion humbly without making it sound like the other person (remember we are people?) is stupid. Sometimes, presenting another view is just what is needed. But mostly, we would all do well to talk (or type rather) a lot less and encourage more in areas that aren't even close to being the Gospel. My new Insa. profile says, "Get of your soap box. Your opinion doesn't matter as much as you think it does. ~me" Yes, I realize that is a very "soap boxy" statement. I love irony. :)<br />
<br />
7) It's hard to remember what really matters. We fill our faces with our phones. We carry them around like we would a child. Again, this isn't going to change any time soon is it? They do make life easier. A lot easier. And so, our eyes are fixed, literally, on our screens. So I need to remember what really matters. I need to be salt and light to a dying world. Fixing my eyes on Christ is what is most important. This is a lot easier said than done, I know. You can start this by reading His Words. Even when you don't want to (preaching to myself here) or when other things that are also important seem to push it out of the way. Just read it. Without any expectations. He will meet you there, though you may not feel like He is. Then tell someone about what you're reading. Maybe do it over coffee or tea or whatever. Just do it face to face. And don't answer any pings (unless, of course it's your husband telling you that your daughter threw up...again.) You should answer that one.<br />
<br />
Nope, social media isn't going away is it? I pray that you and I continue to fight for truth in a way that is honorable to the high calling in which we are called....that we will see people as people that mostly, need us to lift them up...in prayer and encouragement. I pray that you and I would fix our eyes on Jesus as we scroll....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/EeZoQoyPn6I/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EeZoQoyPn6I?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-78778729239374109502018-01-25T19:00:00.001-08:002018-01-25T19:06:04.192-08:00Plan BI'm sitting here at my desk facing yet another New Year, thinking what in the world happened to the last one. And honestly, I'm staring at the screen like I have nothing to say except all of what I want to say is complicated and would take up the hundred or so pages of a book that I don't have time to write.<br />
<br />
It's been a long while since writing last, I know but I just keep thinking, it can't possibly be that this wispy life has wisped past me once more. It can't be possible that in the middle of all of the chaos that is my life, somehow, another year blew by me. Another year. Made up by small moments. Some beautiful, others heartbreaking and still some very much both. It has been a year full of pain, hurt, fear, wonder, excitement, and celebration. Like yours, very probably, this 2017 has been a mixed bag.<br />
<br />
A New Year is like a clean slate, freshly fallen snow, a cleaned out closet. It's exciting. Kind of like the beginnings of a new relationship. We feel invincible. We can! We will (we convince ourselves most emphatically): eat clean, loose the 15 that's hanging around, laugh more, see the beauty in the mess of children around us, walk slower, write more, maybe start a podcast with a dear friend, enjoy more, do less. We are hopeful. We are resolute. We are also looking back at all of things we do not want to repeat from the year before essentially marking out failure in our lives with a bright red pen.<br />
<br />
But you know what? We probably will. Fail, I mean. A lot. We will struggle. We will repeat what we don't want to. A lot. It's what we do as forgetters but doesn't have to define us.<br />
<br />
Nope it doesn't have to. <br />
<br />
It's our Plan B that is most important...that counts the most.<br />
<br />
Here's what I mean: doughnuts are a necessary part of life but not very "clean" (and if they are considered such you should back away slowly), that 15 lbs. might just turn into 20 or maybe you might hack away 7 or 10 or a mere 2 of them, those "laugh lines" might be more frustration lines than anything else and when you walk into your house, you probably will see a mess, not beauty. At least I'm speaking for myself here. Sounds encouraging right?! It really should be. Stay with me, pretty please.<br />
<br />
Things don't just magically come together because it's a "New year, New You!" and you feel more resolute. They don't come together because you have a solid, no-fail plan A. Because you know what? All plans fail in some way. Life, at least mine, doesn't happen the way I think that it should so much of the time.<br />
<br />
Am I alone in this?<br />
<br />
So I propose this question to you, dear reader: Do you have a Plan B?<br />
<br />
You really, really should. I have a suggestion friend: this New Year, cut yourself some slack. We are a people who forget aren't we? I think maybe, partly that is why God gives us His Word. In it he daily reminds us that perfection isn't the point, at least in the worldly since that things have to look a certain way for my life to really be stellar. It never has been. What we put into our bodies is important, but not so important you can't ever have a doughnut...or two. Buy a new pair of pants (that fit) and believe the mirror that is telling you that you look the best b/c you know what, sister, you and I need to hear this:<br />
<br />
You are beautiful. Let it go.<br />
<br />
Not in the <i>Frozen</i> sort of way. But in a way that gives you the grace to know that the woman you are becoming isn't the woman that you once were and you know what?! This is good. No, not just good. It's amazing! That wearing away of the "old man" that makes you feel like the woman you glimpse at in the mirror is just plain old, is really the marks of wisdom and beauty that comes with the work of the Spirit in our lives. It's the eroding away of that old man. Wisdom comes with stretch marks, cellulite and a grey hair. Some of us can outrun those dreaded things longer than others, but most of us will get them earlier than we ever wanted.<br />
<br />
Even more importantly than all of that is to have a Plan B for when you New Year plans fail b/c maybe, like me, you can't get your act together and they already have because you didn't write them down and now you can't even remember what they were. But for sure I have something. Yup, a Plan B.<br />
<br />
Wanna know mine? My Plan B, I mean.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Kari's Plan B:</u></b> 1) If it is sin confess, and run to Jesus begging for forgiveness from the Father. Also, confess it aloud to someone else that will hold me accountable. This includes, when appropriate, my children. 2) If it is not sin (like eating too much sugar in a day). Be kind to myself. Resolve to do better next time by praying about it. A lot.<br />
<br />
I want to live this life of humble repentance. I don't want to live this life full of fear that I have a disappointed Father in heaven because I'm getting upset at myself about things that (which might be important on some level) they aren't the most important things.<br />
<br />
A new dad, and friend from long ago, recently wrote on Instagram that his new baby girl would learn to love the Lord by his and his wife's godly example. And that is partly true. God certainly will use godly examples, especially those of parents, in the lives of our children. However, success isn't the only thing he wants or can choose to use. He wants to use it all. He can and will also use our failures in the lives of our children because when we fail we are in great need. That need is an opportunity to show our dependence on Christ alone...a chance to show them what it means to lean hard into the Savior of the world. <br />
<br />
I had another friend, who's children are grown and have children of their own, tell me recently that on separate occasions his children contacted him and told him that the thing that impacted them the greatest in their lives was when he would openly confess to them his shortcomings, and sin (especially when directed their way) and ask for forgiveness in front of them or from them. I was surprised. And I wasn't at the very same time.<br />
<br />
Even on our very best days we are needy.<br />
At least I am.<br />
Your kids need to know that.<br />
Mine do too.<br />
<br />
This song has been stuck in my head for days. It's mulling around in there and comforting me especially on days where things just plain stink and I've come up so short. God's amazing love isn't impressed with you on your best days and certainly isn't disappointed with you on your crummy ones. His love is constant and unchanging. It endures forever. It pierces our hearts through the Word so we desire to live a holy life. It is the most magnificent love one can ever, ever know.<br />
<br />
Listen and read along, friends with the lyrics and let the truth wash over you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/BrSwglhN2cs/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BrSwglhN2cs?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lean </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Trying and tripping and torn<br />
Reaching for more, but coming up less<br />
Why are my memories of<br />
You as the judge, me as the mess<br />
I want the medal, don't want to settle<br />
I want the victory lap, you in the stands<br />
Why is it hard to believe<br />
You just want me just as I am<br />
<br />
I could stand, I could fall<br />
You want all of me<br />
I could run, I could crawl<br />
You will always be<br />
You're not impressed with all of my best<br />
Not disappointed when I don't land on my feet<br />
In everything, you are asking me to lean<br />
<br />
When did we learn to perform<br />
To need the encore, to know who we are<br />
When did we forget our place<br />
Is not on a stage, but safe in your arms<br />
When will I let go, be still and just know<br />
When will I see, when will I just believe<br />
<br />
I could stand, I could fall<br />
You want all of me<br />
I could run, I could crawl<br />
You will always be<br />
You're not impressed with all of my best<br />
Not disappointed when I don't land on my feet<br />
In everything, you are asking me to lean<br />
<br />
You ask me to trust<br />
When You say I was enough<br />
You made me lean<br />
<br />
I could stand, I could fall<br />
You want all of me<br />
I could run, I could crawl<br />
You will always be<br />
You're not impressed with all of my best<br />
Not disappointed when I don't land on my feet<br />
In everything, you are asking me to lean</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Writer(s): Nichole Nordeman, David Hodges</div>
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-49807794564626986882017-08-01T18:23:00.000-07:002017-08-01T18:27:16.973-07:00The Gift of No.Dearest Lovely Momma,<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I see you. I see you extend yourself beyond what you thought you could ever do. I'm not even talking about your belly during pregnancy. The fight to lay yourself low is a daily battle. The fight, I know that you know, is worth it. It just doesn't always feel that way does it? The bending low. It's hard. It's not what you expected and I know you are quite certain that sometimes while every child around you, squeals for you to, "Watch me, watch me, Momma!" that you left quite unseen. By anyone unless you have "failed" in the eyes of those that you serve. It is easy to feel unappreciated, undervalued, left to the side, unloved even. It is easy to give in to doubt and fear. It is easy to believe that it all, yes ALL of it rests on your tiny shoulders.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, I know that you know that God sees you. I know that you know that it is He that will give you the grace, moment by moment to mother the children in your home. I know that you have to tell yourself, time and again, that those in your home that you serve aren't trying to be ungrateful or unloving. That they too are learning, as you teach them with words and deeds, to die to themselves. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You also know that what God has called, "good," the world sees as a waste of time or talent or whatever. Except you're not. You're right where you need to be, momma. You know that you could be doing something else, somewhere else and you probably wouldn't end your day with your teeth unbrushed (again) and sticky floors right after you mopped. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just wonder though, if some of this weight comes from all of the good things you're trying to do outside of what you have piled on top of yourself at home. I just wonder if it's all too much and that maybe, just maybe it's not going to crash atop you, leaving you wondering if maybe the world is right. I just wonder if you need another momma to tell you that being a mom to your kids is enough. That it is enough to just be a mom right now. If you are a momma who has more children than she does hands (or your hands are constantly occupied carrying a baby) and most of those said children cannot buckle themselves, are not 100% potty trained, and cannot carry a gallon of milk into your home for you, then what you are doing is enough. I just is. From one mom to another. It is. I promise.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Butttt....you say...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
what about</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
....church...outreach...poor people...racial injustice...social injustice...abortion...foster children....the refugee crisis....President Trump (kidding, (kind of)...you need to laugh at yourself, momma)....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The list of butts (insert my hysterical laughing kids here) could go on forever, but those littles (and bigs) in front of you only have one mom. Just you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So please put down, Don't Waste Your Life, Crazy Love, or whatever Matt Chandler book you happen to be reading now because if you are raising your children faithfully, you are not wasting a single day of your life. You are exhibiting the kind of love daily, that God has for you. You love the unlovely every single day of your life. You are going against what society has said is a waste of time, and you have said is valuable because God says it's valuable. That is crazy love. That's motherhood.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There will be, Lord willing, a day when you can pick up those books again. But for right now, momma, read the Word together, memorize it together, pray for them and with them, look at your kids when they squeal for you to, play, read, laugh, sing, cry, say you're sorry when you sin and make forgiveness real in your home. Hug them often, tell them that Jesus loves them in spite of their sin, that they need him MOST of all in their little lives, that no matter what they do or who they become that you will love them always and always and forever. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pretty, pretty please today think about all you have to do that is a choice (outreach, serving etc.) and ask yourself why you are doing them. Ask yourself if you are doing them because you feel like you have to. Ask yourself if you're doing them because you want people to think well of you (ouch!). Ask yourself if you're doing something because you believe that no one else will do it. Think and pray through all of your outside commitments and ask yourself how that effects your children (your husband too) personally. Are they constantly cranky because you're out of the house when they should be at home napping? You might have to give yourself the gift of no. Give others the opportunity to serve. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm not saying don't serve. I'm not saying don't care (obviously you do.) I'm not saying, don't go when the Lord clearly is leading. I think you know what I'm saying. At least I hope you do....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because here is the ugly truth that the world will never in a gajillion years admit: you can't do it all, momma. You just can't.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We have only one Savior. And it's not you. His name is Jesus. Let Him do the saving. You don't have to, thankfully. You just be a faithful momma. There is a time for all things. Right now your time is to be a mom. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And that is enough.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
in HIM,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kari pope (who might have written this letter to herself. just saying')</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
PS: if you are struggling here. A great resource on Mothering is Mom Enough. You can buy the book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mom-Enough-Fearless-Mothers-Heart/dp/0991277600/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501637371&sr=1-1&keywords=mom+enough" target="_blank">here</a> at Amazon if you enjoy holding a book or download it for free <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/mom-enough-new-book" target="_blank">here</a>. They are excellent, encouraging, quick blog posts compiled into a book on motherhood by godly women whom I admire. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-2127681229980622522017-05-31T10:46:00.001-07:002017-05-31T18:56:13.619-07:00Right Where You AreFor those that have trained as an athlete before, you know that the work can be grueling physically, mentally, and emotionally. The lines and lines I ran during basketball are unnumbered, as in I couldn't even begin to count how many I ran and ran and ran. There were so many times I wanted to quit, but couldn't have looked myself in the mirror if I would have. I thought that all those lines meant that I would one day play for big time team that would make it to the NCAA Final Four. And I did for awhile, though we didn't make it to the Final Four.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8JZ3-OqqobsLkHEZoUqXrMwIpJ8BpQlHAA5qodhDLzfSvwvD_bQNd9FmOoaLuA1GZbYy7TKQBhiuA_b4xFp54lxEF8m6Cd93mqT8tsvNDbcdX28mrnqHqH7O0UdRNMjNC9OA7XGn41Y/s1600/IMG_3171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8JZ3-OqqobsLkHEZoUqXrMwIpJ8BpQlHAA5qodhDLzfSvwvD_bQNd9FmOoaLuA1GZbYy7TKQBhiuA_b4xFp54lxEF8m6Cd93mqT8tsvNDbcdX28mrnqHqH7O0UdRNMjNC9OA7XGn41Y/s320/IMG_3171.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
God's plan for my life was different. He was going to use the mistakes I made along the way to bring me to the road that I will travel for the rest of my days. Those days of never giving up or giving in, of pressing into a peserverence that only few know were going to be needed to raise 8 children. Of course, I didn't know this at the time, but looking back I am so, very thankful for all those lines because they helped prepare me to be a mother. Yes, a mother.<br />
<br />
This does not mean, contrary to the many comments I have received over the years, that God must have saw something in me that was really tough, so he gave me 8 children. He must have saw someone that could be a really great mother, so he gave me lots of kids. Actually it's quite the opposite.<br />
<br />
I'll tell you what he saw.<br />
<br />
Something that he sees in you, dear reader: A very broken person, who thought (and still thinks sometimes) that she's pretty tough, is capable of taking on the world on her own and to be needy means weakness. He saw a young person that would need to be broken again and again to see her greatest need: Himself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRpdsoV8GcffKkvg321r0lfKoHtw8c2lf40y0dR0ph3TP_CeemBzcc6ZC1oSx-CXWQThTuS7f6hPT4KzFkU_dk3DkqanOXrkAG6OWbad0bIXwlXbUeok_tI0ODUgyJi1RSWZr_TI0px0/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRpdsoV8GcffKkvg321r0lfKoHtw8c2lf40y0dR0ph3TP_CeemBzcc6ZC1oSx-CXWQThTuS7f6hPT4KzFkU_dk3DkqanOXrkAG6OWbad0bIXwlXbUeok_tI0ODUgyJi1RSWZr_TI0px0/s320/DSC_0048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And even when He got me there...even when I understood the grace it took to save me, still I think I'm not very needy. In fact, I mostly struggle thinking how things could possibly go on with out me. <br />
<br />
My life is spent doing the very hardest job on earth: mothering.<br />
<br />
If you are a mother, of even one child, you know exactly what I'm talking about. There was no soul on earth that could have told me at the time how humiliating being a mother would be. First, we are put under a microscope, in which every move your child makes, every thing you child eats, every fit your child throws in public, wherever your child sleeps, if your child is breast fed or not, is a giant neon sign pointing right at you, mom. We are expected to have children that say please and thank you, share, sleep through the night, and grow up to go to a good college and contribute to this crazy fallen world in some positive way. Our life's work and worth hinges on society's view of whether or not they are "successful."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Kq6BTR4MAqIwbmVcu7_05C7Gh0uhPw0wFvHZsmvSqmiFIs15ssosLcaDllLVjAe_71YCtSZ4-TPAcQzoxDW2FIQBkI2GBONUOulILUEuyBpsAbwTpMI6eBmgHD8atOzlsdnC1rgBjk0/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Kq6BTR4MAqIwbmVcu7_05C7Gh0uhPw0wFvHZsmvSqmiFIs15ssosLcaDllLVjAe_71YCtSZ4-TPAcQzoxDW2FIQBkI2GBONUOulILUEuyBpsAbwTpMI6eBmgHD8atOzlsdnC1rgBjk0/s320/DSC_0090.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
No, God did not see something good and helpful in me that would somehow take these little people and change them into decent humans. He decided to use me where I was at despite of who I am. It's easy to see my family, or that family that moves to Uganda to be a missionaries, or the family that moves to the wrong side of the tracks to serve, or the family that sponsors 10 Compassion children, or the family who adopts out of foster care or from some other country and think that God saw something in them that makes them special and really great but that just isn't true. What really is true is that I needed to be humbled. In fact I need to be humbled daily and this is the family God has given me to do just that. God doesn't make it his habit to make really great people even better. In his crazy, upside down love, he takes detestable people and changes them from the inside of out, using whatever means possible.<br />
<br />
No, we aren't robots. Yes, we have made choices, but I firmly believe that we choose the steps and God directs our paths. Actually I believe that is Biblical. Don't ask me how that works. I just know it does. He has used the personality that he created me to have, used my experiences along the way (and yes, even my sin) to get me to the place that he would have me be. Right here. Not over there. Or somewhere else, but right here. That, of course, could change in the next second, but right now this is where he has me. Right here.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3gHDClx65o1iCo8DACiwQQBE3XeiizPnDoe0e8uUZN_2eYxn-02mC3DfWqCQqlkmQlxe6ffv47XkEj_crUomd26Mcj1ABgYg40ET2WUa-f942VxSsVjS4M_fjOepXEsMKw4W5x1U7U8/s1600/DSC_0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3gHDClx65o1iCo8DACiwQQBE3XeiizPnDoe0e8uUZN_2eYxn-02mC3DfWqCQqlkmQlxe6ffv47XkEj_crUomd26Mcj1ABgYg40ET2WUa-f942VxSsVjS4M_fjOepXEsMKw4W5x1U7U8/s320/DSC_0046.JPG" width="214" /></a>It's easy, when you are living counter culture (which every believer does right?), to believe that what you are doing is the "right" thing. So those of us that have lives that look very much different from the "normal" of those around us can get put on a very, very high pedestal and are given an even louder soap box to blog and write books about. Usually, this seems like what is promoted is that "they" should live or choose to live just like "us." It also may mean an exorbitant amount of time spent making sure others feel the weight of all we have had to leave behind on our humble quest to fix the world of wrong (please catch the sarcasm here.) Sadly, so many Christian women are so discouraged, floundering, asking themselves what exactly they are doing for the Lord when they read what is spewed out all over the Christian blogosphere (or read in many books) by other well meaning Christian women. <br />
<br />
Again, God has not given me my life so that I can tell "my" story very loudly to everyone else and in the process making them feel very, very small and quite unimportant. He gave me the life I have, and I would argue the life you have (no matter how ordinary and unimportant you may feel that might be), to share His Story with the world...with your ordinary neighbor, friends and family. Those living right next to you. The ones your life intersects with regularly as you live and work alongside each other.<br />
<br />
This is the point of your life, and mine. And it starts right at home, momma. Before you go looking at the blog (or read that book), take stock of how things are going in your own home. How are your own children doing? What are they facing that you are missing because you are looking at all that you "could be doing?" Whatever is going on inside your own home is just as important as whatever you think is more important that someone else may be doing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwiKP6xUV1o5Z18gRtKOg9PQm49uDq0bK-KjPof6pyu9Rl4lrU8IzKeldh5nlHDcprCf1FLJLZbQgF-wR_n6XUYH4KRS8JPIWnU6kOg5Zlhw2Gf7xLd7QtXp_Vd2Yb51nlS2KKjJclTI/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwiKP6xUV1o5Z18gRtKOg9PQm49uDq0bK-KjPof6pyu9Rl4lrU8IzKeldh5nlHDcprCf1FLJLZbQgF-wR_n6XUYH4KRS8JPIWnU6kOg5Zlhw2Gf7xLd7QtXp_Vd2Yb51nlS2KKjJclTI/s320/IMG_1219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
This is not an excuse to only take stock at home and do nothing else. Though there are many days that teaching all my children feels like quite enough. And it is on those days. If you know me, and my heart, you know that I'm not advocating a spirit of uninterest in the world around us. Actually, quite the opposite; I so want you to see the value of serving those in your home right where you are and how it is not more valuable to be doing something else that seems bigger or more sacrificial. Yes, we speak up for the poor and marginalized. Yes, we serve with in reason. Yes, we look at the lives that other's are living around us and we Praise the Good Lord for what they're doing by his grace. Yes, we pray for missionary families and support them monetarily when we are able. Yes, to it all and more. But mostly, yes to what God has for you right now in your own home, <i><b>right where you are</b></i>.<br />
<br />
It's like we, as mothers, have these beautiful pebbles in our hands. You may have 1, 2, 3 or more. I have 8. The number isn't what is important. They are all different sizes, shapes and colors. We are standing at the shore, all lined up. One by one we throw our pebbles into the deep, bluest of oceans. Some of our pebbles fall close, some in-between, some farther away than we would ever want them to be. They all have one thing in common: they all permeate ringed ripples. The ripples are close and small in the beginning, but those ripples they just keep get bigger and bigger...wider and wider. Some of those ripples touch other pebble's ripples. They intersect. It's quite amazing actually.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGTlHpGG4zrXv2cVha0C01QOuEkf1kDm0jzTTdK18hEjFk8PHGGvqreoeLIDe3dDd0k0wTyyV75BJ0304aivWdjilLEw_E5rQY_SGJHMG6XGxqpAf9jb2WuQjSzqzaqAEYjjnbc0ybqE/s1600/IMG_3267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGTlHpGG4zrXv2cVha0C01QOuEkf1kDm0jzTTdK18hEjFk8PHGGvqreoeLIDe3dDd0k0wTyyV75BJ0304aivWdjilLEw_E5rQY_SGJHMG6XGxqpAf9jb2WuQjSzqzaqAEYjjnbc0ybqE/s320/IMG_3267.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What you do right now, right where you are will greatly effect whatever comes after you are long</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
gone because of the work that Christ has done and continues to do in you. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Nothing is more important than that, Momma. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Press on...<b><i>right where you are</i></b>. </div>
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-59999073944379083632017-04-28T13:47:00.000-07:002017-04-28T13:47:06.343-07:00Simply Amazing<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">He was told, with the very best intentions, by his first dad at his last "visit" that, "When you're 18, you can look me up, find me and see me again." When his social worker told me, through a wide smile, how great he thought that was, my heart sank a little. Ok that's a lie. My heart sank to the depths of the unknown waters that flow through the very heart of every mother. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jLqpj_WqNSxII6ozlrYFqPZxFstM-4tMndOta8vcMA5_ybMW6blrneMLTzXVZ-I_QjOhclUkXWt89pKZziJ6AFFqMHrNw1g8obdZGspOZeuihj9YW7hgMMKm6vjesYnCjJgCbnNrA3s/s1600/xturns10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jLqpj_WqNSxII6ozlrYFqPZxFstM-4tMndOta8vcMA5_ybMW6blrneMLTzXVZ-I_QjOhclUkXWt89pKZziJ6AFFqMHrNw1g8obdZGspOZeuihj9YW7hgMMKm6vjesYnCjJgCbnNrA3s/s320/xturns10.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I knew, as his mother, what the social worker didn't: that every birthday would now become a countdown instead of a celebration. In fact, the very day he turned 8, right after blowing out those 8 candles, he muttered softly under his breath, "Only 10 more years." It was like a sigh of relief. Only I heard him. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">For weeks and weeks after that, our oldest adoptive son clung to the promise of 18. We had intense discussions about there isn't a certain age of maturity about anything especially something like this and that we would cross that bridge when we came to it, that our hearts need to mend together and bond without clinging to the past. That is hard for grown adults to do. Asking a child is like asking him to climb Everest. Alone. In the dark without any gear. There was and will probably always be this flicker of hope of what will be come his 18th birthday. I'm ok with that now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><i>It's hard to understand at any age that sometimes, many times,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><i>the most painful events in our lives</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><i>are the very ones most necessary for us to flourish.</i></span></div>
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">Twice taken out of his first home from a traumatizing life starting at the age of 3. He's lived in 4 different foster families (counting ours) and numerous other homes with his first family. In fact there were so many, many homes that he started naming the ones he can still remember: The flea house. The trailer house. The house KI Sawyer house. The house with the snake in the basement. The list is long. And sad for the most part, except for the times he was in homes where the adults had the ability to love well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px;">His memories are blurry now and I can see a new, revived urgency to remember especially people he loved so dearly. This too is sad because I know it wounds him not to have those memories. It's like his heart doesn't know how to hold them all dear and close when his mind can't remember clearly. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">When I first met him, there was this wild, defiant look in his eyes like he was a soldier home from war who was always assessing a situation. If you didn't know already, many children in foster care suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They come from homes that, much like a war zone, are loud, violent and unpredictable. Those intensely, bright blue eyes would look right through you as if you were not even a person but a thing in his way, preventing him from getting what he wanted or always looking for what's next....what's out of his control. Trauma does this to your brain when you are a child. It actually changes the physical brain. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1F8ISsvQG0pZaZdte7dB-q8o8D-S-seampuygUu4lMq9uO25oxF_ftSvL7udkYQRWqHPbiV6eBxV66JwSxQ4k1y5B2BFRTwK6JLOlHqop3UiBaQ33VUOn-DSKKqEXOl73ZZF7nemG8A/s1600/xturns10_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1F8ISsvQG0pZaZdte7dB-q8o8D-S-seampuygUu4lMq9uO25oxF_ftSvL7udkYQRWqHPbiV6eBxV66JwSxQ4k1y5B2BFRTwK6JLOlHqop3UiBaQ33VUOn-DSKKqEXOl73ZZF7nemG8A/s320/xturns10_2.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">Hugs were out of the question for people he didn't know or even knew but were not very familiar with. It took almost 2 years before he would hug his counselor goodbye for the very first time whom he saw biweekly.</span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">The boy that came into foster care for the second time when he was a meager 4 years old was more like an unruly animal than a person. That may sound harsh, but ask my dear friend, Cari, who fostered him before we did for almost 8 months about how he used to stay up crying and scratching himself after visits. And how she had to squeeze him and roll a ball over him to calm him down. And how every single thing was a fight to the end. Simple things like putting on shoes and brushing teeth was WWIII in her home. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">If ever I forget that there is a God of immeasurable grace...a God who can raise the dead...I have to look no further than our son, Xander. He's been 10 for several weeks now. Six years since he was rescued and placed in a forever home to be loved and cherished the way all children should be but many times aren't. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">And in just six years the blue-eyed boy, my blue-eyed boy that stands (or usually wiggles) before me always wanting to put his little, dirty, dry hand in mine, is almost unrecognizable when thinking about that wild-eyed boy I met all those years ago. Those eyes are clear and steady. They see people for who they are as people and not just to be used for getting what he wants. He can accept the situation that he is in for what it is without almost any reservation. He loves, I mean loves, his family. If he's in a really good mood, he'll even give any one of us a tight squeeze especially his biggest sister. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">He hugged his Auntie Caroline, who he's only been around a few times, before we said goodbye the last time we saw her at Christmas. I cried. Those once hollow eyes can now see. His heart has begun to learn to bond and love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkarjTfsMubFuzy3apHt_JBGgE9g_d3rMRjUSGg0KvRdceguFDp4BXzRIWmKtd_Ak62YCppxunU01GZT3hchSCMX8SAd8IV91akb7d6k5MyZmRJcZijart7OIjWpbC0A5IfHYOMd9utmo/s1600/B6AE7E63-10B0-4790-BEE4-F7D73E67B13C.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkarjTfsMubFuzy3apHt_JBGgE9g_d3rMRjUSGg0KvRdceguFDp4BXzRIWmKtd_Ak62YCppxunU01GZT3hchSCMX8SAd8IV91akb7d6k5MyZmRJcZijart7OIjWpbC0A5IfHYOMd9utmo/s320/B6AE7E63-10B0-4790-BEE4-F7D73E67B13C.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px;">It is such a gift. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">I found his baby book and life book sitting quietly on my couch recently. He had been flipping through, looking at the pictures and drawing our home here. My heart is always heavy when I flip through either of them and try to grasp what he may be feeling. I wondered if this birthday is just another countdown birthday but when I asked what the best part about turning 10 was, he smiled, looked at me with this intense blue eyes and said, "Well, it's been almost 3 years since I've been a Pope." </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">Amazing. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">There will be a part of Xander that will always be broken at the loss of his first family. Just like there are parts of all of us that are wounded and very much broken even if we do not experience what he has in our lives. There will always be the battle against worry and the fight to trust and love. And if you read nothing else, please read and believe but this: <b><i>my Love and I did not do this.</i></b> It was not our love or our boundaries or our parental methods that changed him. It was none other than the Love of Christ. His work in us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">And so, Xander knows that no matter what happens in his life, that he can trust in the Creator-God who knows him and loves him and sent his Son to die in his place. He doesn't have to try to be in control because he can trust in the Sovereign God who knows all things and is in control of all things even when life seems crazy and out of control. His heart is at rest in these things alone and not to the fleeting promise of 18. He knows who he is.</span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4BQhAC0t0Tt7N8sr7SPawG-SPlb9MD-zOyNYsC9ONgHAVMu0EwKr9Da3WkyjwQ9eqRRChus-OizT1P_BRidnAVZnGXU_LQwsUycljPA0zV5qcrziINOxTpTg4t6mteJxCobz3sRHVyM/s1600/elite8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4BQhAC0t0Tt7N8sr7SPawG-SPlb9MD-zOyNYsC9ONgHAVMu0EwKr9Da3WkyjwQ9eqRRChus-OizT1P_BRidnAVZnGXU_LQwsUycljPA0zV5qcrziINOxTpTg4t6mteJxCobz3sRHVyM/s320/elite8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">It is an amazing thing to witness and an honor to be a small part of.</span></div>
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">Simply amazing. </span></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-79417052171512517642017-02-04T15:46:00.000-08:002017-02-04T15:46:08.067-08:00The Broken Beautiful If you have read any of my blog posts or even just one ever, you will probably find penned here a wispy journey of sorts. It begins and ends with a faith that has been gifted to me through Christ. I have written a lot about the kind of faith that is not easy. I hope that the things I say here are gracious and kind because some of them, I realize are very hard to read. Life is hard. Faith in Christ does not make for an easier life but it creates in me a space to have a kind of hope that knows, no matter what is going on around me or inside of me, that I know the end of the story. I know that Christ has won and will win again. So no matter how that story unfolds before me, I can trust in the One who's scars testify of the saving grace that I now own.<br />
<br />
There is just one truth in all of this writing, or teaching, and lets just add in here for fun because I can, parenting, that I have been painfully reminded of lately: it is a lot harder to walk what you say with your words that you believe. It is easy to <b><i>say</i></b> that faith is hard...that taking up your cross means bowing low, than it is to actually do it. It is easy to<i><b> say</b></i> to others to have open hands to what God has for them, even if it is suffering, than to actually walk the road of suffering yourself. These are easy truths to know, but what if God asks me to walk that road? What do I do with my hands? Do I walk the narrow way, filled with pain and heartache because God has lead me to it or do I dig in my heals, close my hands, and clench my teeth in anger?<br />
<br />
I would like to believe that in love for my Savior, I would choose the former. But so many times I don't. And here is why: I don't want to be broken. I don't want to admit my need. I want to be seen as strong. I want to be able to do it all. I have bought into the lie that brokenness and need are shameful. In fact, to be a productive woman I shouldn't need anything from anyone and should only depend on myself for everything. At least that is what I hear the world shoving in my face. But what if there is no other way than to be broken? Again and again, I am forced low. I came broken and needy to the cross and broken still I am. Could it be that in my weakness, Christ is made strong? I may have read that somewhere a time or two.<br />
<br />
There are two roads crossing ahead. On the one side there is a tropical paradise. The other is rocky and uphill. In fact it looks a lot like the place I just hiked today filled with tall, brownish yellow grass and everything within your view is basically dead. You are asked to take the rocky hill with the promise of a guide, a sturdy walking stick, and paradise far, far ahead. But the tropical is, well, so very tropical. It is appealing to your eyes. You could have paradise now. Even thinking about the warm sun on your face makes you feel all kinds of happy. You know if you take the rocky road, you are sure to fall again and again. Really, a guide and a walking stick? That's it? And just how far do I have to walk this rocky hill? Is there any reprieve?<br />
<br />
Daily, this is my choice as a believer. So many times, I fail. So many, many times I choose the easy way out. I choose what I think is going to make me feel happy instead of choosing Who will make me happy. So many times I look up and simply say "no." And in His sovereign, loving way, he picks me up and asks again to take the broken, humble road that leads to life.<br />
<br />
The broken beautiful. It might just be the only way home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/e5CpH5iBXZc/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e5CpH5iBXZc?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-72059982946751484562017-01-29T15:04:00.002-08:002017-01-29T15:05:02.302-08:00A Sweet Reminder<div style="text-align: center;">
"Where is God's grace most evident in your life?" my pastor looks into my eyes and asks. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Other than every moment every day, from the time I wake up?" I joke with him.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"The most obvious way that God's grace is evident in my life is through His body, the church," I say. I'm not joking this time.</div>
<br />
It is the one place that has picked me up when I have fallen. It has held me close when I long to walk away. It has taught me the very best about that Good Book; who I am in light of it and who God says He is in-spite of who I think He may be. It has seen me at my worst and not judged. It has brought meals, laughed hard, loved for real and helped me learn everything from cooking to quilting. It has asked hard questions and challenged my sin and held my hand and prayed fervently.<br />
<br />
I say it, but I should say they because it isn't really and it is it? It is the people in all the places, in all those little churches and communities that we have lived over the last 15 years where God's grace has dripped and poured into our lived. We would not be the same people with out it. I dare say we would be lost with out it. It is those very people who have taken the time to share with us the Gospel in word and deed with us.<br />
<br />
It is a very sad thing, but I do believe that this is a unique experience for many. I know loved ones who have been wounded so deep and so long and so wide by the very people that are supposed to know better. I have wept with and for them. There are no words for that kind of sadness though many have been penned.<br />
<br />
And yet, there is this broken, cracked beauty that I will ever be forever grateful for. It is a gift. It is precious. And I have recently been reminded, once again, how in desperate need of these faithful people I am. And you know what? They showed up. Again. And again. It blows me away every time; the love that these people show us because of how loved they are by our Father in Heaven.<br />
<br />
It has nothing to do with us, really. It's not because we are of the same demographic, race, or economic status. Some of them are as different from us as the sun is from the moon. Christ is sometimes our only commonality. And he is enough. It's amazing.<br />
<br />
No people are not perfect, neither is any church. How could it be when filled with a bunch of self-proclaimed sinners? This, however, is not my point. Perfection is not nor ever should be the point or expectation. His grace is. To say that I'm grateful for it would be like trying to fit the ocean into a cup. Heaven will be a glorious place, filled with all these people God has graced us with praising Him together.<br />
<br />
I cannot wait...<br />
<br />
<br />
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-40377496544155671082016-12-23T08:24:00.003-08:002016-12-23T08:24:26.475-08:00Birthdays, Christmas and being #blessed in the middleHi Friends!<br />
<br />
So much to share these days and I'm not certain what order to say them in. Time is of the essence as I really should be packing and cleaning, but I don't want to. Is that a good reason not to do something? I'm not sure it is. But if I have anything, friends, it's honesty (and Jesus...well, that's where the honesty comes in here very probably) and that's just the truth.<br />
<br />
I'll put first things first:<br />
<br />
1. I have a for real life 12 year old now. Seriously people. His shoe size is as big as mine. For reals. Not even joking. It was a proud day for him. It won't be long until he catches that 14 year old of mine in height and she will never live it down (because she will be looking up at him....haaaaaaa). If I could describe him in one word it would be: tender. He has the most tender heart. This is a wonderfully, delicious big part of his soul. I pray fervently that it stays this way. That he doesn't become jaded and angry at a world filled with people who cannot for the life of themselves disagree with out defriending you on Facebook. I pray that he is so filled with love for the his Savior that he loves others well, especially those who disagree with him and call him all kinds of hateful names. I pray he is faithful and kind and has a hero's heart and a disgust for injustice and a longing to be in his for real home with his Father. That his eyes would be so focused on there that it effects what he is doing here on earth. I would say it is a joy to mother him, but that would not even touch the base of the mountain of joy that describes how much it is an honor just to know him. Such a daily grace (even when he leaves his socks on the dinning room table....even then.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxpFr4FWgbMWcEAetli-XsLciZrdkKs6z-xdPzmZrapJ2OsgUOm2ItRf6tAoZdovjhxWw4QKO5aZ40rYeK5Mp92VS-Yt22yl-5hFOfyu2lwFaeN2ayn0mpwArJ_OrqDj-6HkxtMbnR_o/s1600/2016-12-22+14.18.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxpFr4FWgbMWcEAetli-XsLciZrdkKs6z-xdPzmZrapJ2OsgUOm2ItRf6tAoZdovjhxWw4QKO5aZ40rYeK5Mp92VS-Yt22yl-5hFOfyu2lwFaeN2ayn0mpwArJ_OrqDj-6HkxtMbnR_o/s320/2016-12-22+14.18.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Moving on...<br />
<br />
2. This has been a weird Christmas. I'm not even sure how to process it other than: it's been weird, man. I so know that this season is supposed to be about the small and unnoticed things in our world but it's so busy and loud around me all the time. Really Loud. I wrote a couple years about giving <a href="http://all6popes.blogspot.com/search/label/Good%20Gifts%3A%20series#.WF1J87GZPs8" target="_blank">Good Gifts</a>. I know all of this enough to put it in writing. And very probably I know a lot less about it than I think that I do. And then there is all the "shoulding" that I do on myself all the time. Who really cares if a certain tradition doesn't get done. Is everyone alive? Is everyone fed? Did everyone put on clean undies this morning? Yes! Then it is a good day. Especially, if the undies part happens. Christ was still born and laid in a dirty, stinky manger and we are still fighting for our lives to honor Him during this time. And it's a fight isn't it? A fight not to compare. A fight to assume the best in others (especially family members) during this time of year. A fight not to get sucked into tit-for-tats that don't really matter to begin with. A fight to see Christ for who he really is as Lord who pulled on flesh only to die 30 or so years later and rise again. It is constant. It is heavy. It is a joy. Press on, Friends!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5Ic1Dk8jPgLpW80CYwA9nNVgn40Q1DDINsqBUE3aulgWam26fGKv-1IpnKmkfhUlHKnO9ZEDTh2TPNrSgnwrE_N8FuY7hyphenhyphenKFfHlVeAytYKNSmy-GnsuT5jYYIUGlRe4aG8cplyzZ8DA/s1600/2016-12-22+14.09.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5Ic1Dk8jPgLpW80CYwA9nNVgn40Q1DDINsqBUE3aulgWam26fGKv-1IpnKmkfhUlHKnO9ZEDTh2TPNrSgnwrE_N8FuY7hyphenhyphenKFfHlVeAytYKNSmy-GnsuT5jYYIUGlRe4aG8cplyzZ8DA/s320/2016-12-22+14.09.21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Lastly...<br />
<br />
3. I love to give <a href="http://all6popes.blogspot.com/search/label/Good%20Gifts%3A%20series#.WF1J87GZPs8" target="_blank">Good Gifts</a>. Really, there is nothing like it. There is nothing like giving a gift that points a person to the Person of Christ. Here is where I've been stuck this year: I like to give gifts period. I like to give my kids gifts that they will love. It makes me giddy to find that box of Star Wars figurines on sale and stick them in their stocking knowing they will freak out on Christmas morning because of it. And there is a big part of me that thinks that this is very shallow. Or at least it feels that way as I scroll down and read about how dear friends give their kids one gift on Christmas and my insides do this flip-flop and I start comparing. Again. I am desperate to figure out how to live and be #blessed in the middle without feeling like I have to be ashamed or shallow at the very least. I want to give Good Gifts. I want my kids to see where their blessings come from and most of all I want to believe it and live it myself. I want to walk into a store, knowing that one kiddo doesn't need those $5 slippers but grab them anyway b/c she has been talking about them for a year now and when she sees them sticking out of their stocking, well she will want to sleep with them on her feet she will be so excited. And that makes me happy <b><i>but isn't my happiness</i></b>. Did you hear me? Or read that, I mean? I think that is the secret of being #blessed and in the middle. Or at least a part of the secret. Knowing that every good gift is from above and so that car, that house, that whatever you own (or rent or lease) is in fact a blessing, given only by God Himself. And to know this is not saying that others are not blessed because they may not have those things. The secret is: knowing that our happiness is <b><i>not</i></b> in the physical things that we are blessed with but rather we are blessed in the <i style="font-weight: bold;">Person of Christ. </i>It is ok to bless others with a gift that they probably don't need. It is not ok to gain our happiness as children of God because of it. That is the difference and the thin line I am considering in this ever so weird Christmas season this year.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip1gDzapzYhcrCutibEGSvxmpfYj_BSvTFBj27OKc2aZeLjWPpfPk381jlyXQOX1drGYDIRG99kH7TI2ztjZ2MWgLrSwBOXSsSdqChjeELhPbz5jZG1RskbtR_m0AdhR1KmR2bdbWFPhg/s1600/2016-12-22+12.03.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip1gDzapzYhcrCutibEGSvxmpfYj_BSvTFBj27OKc2aZeLjWPpfPk381jlyXQOX1drGYDIRG99kH7TI2ztjZ2MWgLrSwBOXSsSdqChjeELhPbz5jZG1RskbtR_m0AdhR1KmR2bdbWFPhg/s320/2016-12-22+12.03.00.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Merry Christmas, friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From my very large, loud, silly family to yours.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And a Happy New Year too.</div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-78896461677983126802016-11-22T20:25:00.001-08:002016-11-22T20:26:34.802-08:00 Finding Christ in the MiddleYa'll I'm tired. Like the kind of tired where your body feels like a weight jacket that you are carrying around and the only way out of this tiredness is to go to sleep and never wake. I can walk around doing my own life and then WHAM! real life gets in the way: I actually read the news or log on to Facebook to see what my friends are walking through. That is no joke people. It's amazing what people will share on Facebook. I pick up a book about Sequoyah and read it to the kids on a whim right after deciding to finally prime the devil red out of my bathroom for 4 hours all the while forgetting about a coffee date with a sweet soul sister. Call me crazy because that is exactly what I am. So here I am, really tired with so much to say and not really having the words to say it but I'm going to try anyway because I think it's something no one else is saying and you very probably need to hear it. I know I need to hear myself say it aloud.<br />
<br />
I'm sitting here in front of my big ol' screened TV, that my oldest son is watching, my bum is on my new carpet in the "play room" of our new to us home. My heart is weary and tired. I feel like I have fought a long battle and I am waving the white flag at the expectations of others. What I read on the blogosphere these days makes my heart sink in the oddest ways. Things that used to make it pitter patter now, I find, garner resentment, anger even. I'm sure in many ways, it's my own sin that is the problem. I am forever assuming things about others and being easily offended. This is the reason (and lack of time) that I don't spend a lot of time reading blogs. And yet, there seems to be this movement of women out there with a very large microphone proclaiming to all of us in the "middle" that Jesus is only found richly among the poor...when you are serving and living among them...when we choose to live physically among them.<br />
<br />
And we just bought a big ol' house on the West Side. <br />
<br />
Gulp.<br />
<br />
My days are now filled with wifing, mothering, homeschooling, running errands, serving at church, volunteering, running children to different social events and sports, and fixing up said neglected big ol' house that had been a rental for many years. And my flag is flying high. In fact, if my HOA would allow it, I would fly it right outside my garage.<br />
<br />
Every woman wants to feel like her life's work is important. That it means something. We want to know that whatever we are pouring our lives into is meaningful. We want to give life and be life to others. We do not for a moment, want to believe that all we have done is for not. And if there is "more Jesus" over there...then we want to desperately move there because as believers, we want more Jesus. This has been the struggle of a life time for me and very probably, for you also. I couldn't have been called to live a peaceable and quiet middle class life could I? Or maybe I am.<br />
<br />
Maybe, just maybe my neighbors are just as broken. Maybe they just have the financial means to cover it all up. Maybe they aren't buying drugs on street corners, they are just getting them in the form of prescriptions from their doctor. Maybe their husband is a drunk and abusive. Maybe said husband is an elder at a church. Maybe their sin just isn't on display because of their ability to cover it up with their money. And maybe, this is worse in some ways. And harder in other ways. And frightening to try to figure out because the people I live around are on their guard 100% of the time and will not, for a million years, let you in to see their very real selves. They hardly let you in to see their fake selves. And if they do, they make sure it's all nice and tidy and Pintrest worthy.<br />
<br />
Sin is no respecter of people. We find it in all classes of people. It is the great equalizer. Every person walking the face of this earth, rich or poor or smack dab in the middle has what the Prophet Jerimiah calls a, "wicked" heart and will one day have to account for that heart. Sin manifests itself differently among the different classes and there life of the poor is incomparably harder in many ways than the life I now live but I'm here to tell you, fellow middle classers, that every person needs the Gospel. We all do. People from the jungles of South America to the middle classers living right beside you here in America. Jesus did not just spend his time with one class of people--he chose 12 from all walks of life. They were a sinful lot of men from every station. A few better off than others, but spiritually speaking they were all bankrupt. This should speak balms of encouragement to your soul. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes, you who wonders if you are "doing enough" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
doing the right thing </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
if there is "more" that you are missing out on because of all the stuff you are not doing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
if the stuff that you <i>are </i>doing really isn't important at all because it doesn't have you in the throes of living among the poor.</div>
<br />
See why we're exhausted?<br />
<br />
If there is one thing I could tell my younger self it would be: "CHILL out girl!" I spent so much of my life worrying that I was not doing enough to save the world, that I was totally discontented with my life for many years and in fact missed out on enjoying parts of my older children's younger years because I was so distracted by "what I should be doing." It's a regret that lingers heavy still.<br />
<br />
Yes, pray for open doors, for opportunities, about that soul of yours that seems to be restless where you are at and wanting for more and you don't know what to do about it. Yes, share the Gospel. Wives, talk to your husband. Many times they are the great equalizers and keep us in check. Have hard conversations with your spouse. Do that. Yes, read the Word because you know where "more" Jesus is found? Right there, in that living and breathing Book that you own. Open it up and turn to 1 Thessalonians. Read about the good life God has for you...a quiet and peaceable life no matter the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-33293884440790618072016-10-13T20:33:00.002-07:002016-10-13T20:53:25.703-07:00Raising PretendersMeandering the choppy waters of parenting a teen is new and confounding at times. It humbles and shakes up my days. It is also a blessing. Yes! I just said blessing and teen together. I had hoped and hoped and prayed that our teens would know that we are on their side, that we are not their advisory. It is such a scary, scary time in parenting isn't it? These children figure out they have brains of their own and they want to use them to do things like think and have their own opinion. It's so very hard to know when to push and when to let it slide. It might be more like parenting a toddler than we would like to admit most of the time. And yet, there is something very sweet here.<br />
<br />
I realize that this is not every ones experience. It will not be ours with every child. Of that I am almost certain. I'm not saying this to brag or put anyone else into what I like to call, "a fog of comparison."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRicAw5NdlyXXdSpBLHsj29_wdQ0gdTou3OpPHcMv1iLqtbR6eIzYnq9z1pmOo6AQNSPBce9alM0RWGhUIhvLvexLuKKyGkucSHccb-5d1n7sjELAVx8nOamA1R69QAdt1PMQUpEnPfkw/s1600/IMG_2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRicAw5NdlyXXdSpBLHsj29_wdQ0gdTou3OpPHcMv1iLqtbR6eIzYnq9z1pmOo6AQNSPBce9alM0RWGhUIhvLvexLuKKyGkucSHccb-5d1n7sjELAVx8nOamA1R69QAdt1PMQUpEnPfkw/s320/IMG_2044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
It is not some formula like a chemistry experiment so please, PLEASE don't ask me how. I just want to share with you what I want for my kids and what I really, REALLY don't want.<br />
<br />
I think, if you love the Lord Jesus as I do, then it will be a reflection of your own heart. I want you to know that there are mothers standing firm with you and pressing on hand in hand along side you. Right there. Together.<br />
<br />
It is easy, on days that aren't so great, to lapse into despair. You know the those days. In the toddler years, I often think, "This child will NEVER be potty trained. NEVER<EVER<EVER<EVER!!" In the teen years it's more like, "Why does he/she think that EVERYTHING is my faultttt????!!!!" {insert crying emoji face here} And, "SERIOUSLY??!! Have you lost your ever loving mind with that tone and that eye roll and that....don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about...." And we so often let hope slip through our fingers and take the boat load of joy with it. BOOM! Gone.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj4fWsRIg8Bq17t4oi8tMj6PE8XoU0sz06SGlV7w_bOj9lmo07C6OOk5aYjeYdgcFyNtfCSC2piilHMTgfZBjHb9QuGwmNfQMyRtBYvcsqzX7NzBZ7ognXK9U96AevzBT8Vtr5obeXbA/s1600/IMG_1897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj4fWsRIg8Bq17t4oi8tMj6PE8XoU0sz06SGlV7w_bOj9lmo07C6OOk5aYjeYdgcFyNtfCSC2piilHMTgfZBjHb9QuGwmNfQMyRtBYvcsqzX7NzBZ7ognXK9U96AevzBT8Vtr5obeXbA/s320/IMG_1897.JPG" width="320" /></a>L</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
We forget that what we want is for our kids to love the Lord with all their hearts, minds and souls and love their neighbor as themselves. We forget that we want them to know God and make Him be known. And we forget where we came from and who he has made us into because we are suffering through the same thing that Christ suffers through with each one of us daily. I mean really, if you can't tell me that you aren't exactly like at least 12 of the 12 disciples then you have lost your ever lovin' mind right alongside your teen. We forget that we don't want to raise a bunch of pretenders.<br />
<br />
Yes, there I said it. Right there friend, read it again: we DO NOT want to raise a bunch of rule following, I know all the right Sunday School, Jesus Freak answers but can't for the life me sacrifice anything for anyone ever sort of kids. Yes, it is easy to get kids to follow the rules. And some how {but I think we know how} that our kids get this idea that Christianity is actually a rule book that looks a lot like this:<br />
<br />
1. don't drink<br />
2. don't smoke<br />
3. don't do drugs<br />
4. don't have sex before you're married {or even think about having sex before you're married for heaven sake!}<br />
5. don't cuss. ever!<br />
6. pick good friends.<br />
7. don't pick friends that do ANY of the aforementioned don'ts.<br />
8. listen to "good" music. read "good" books.<br />
9. don't lie<br />
10. don't steal<br />
11. be modest<br />
12. obey your parents. always.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of others but I don't have the time....and neither do you, I'm guessing.<br />
<br />
Pay attention friends to what I am not saying. I am not saying that any of these rules are bad. Rules and boundaries are a blessing. I know that. You know that. Obviously anarchy is never a good idea. Neither is socialism but that's another post that I will never write. At least I don't think I will. {insert silly face emoji and don't be so easily offended...ha!}<br />
<br />
It's not the rules. It's the reason. Did you read that? Read it again! It's the reason behind the rules that is important. And WHO is the reason? We tend to use the rules as the driving force as the reason behind why we do what we do or have the rules that we have instead of making it about Christ don't we? I know I do.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkrewa_QKq2LkhKOsyci7loOeejPcp6tkniyvM-hf9xzeszCbHSvpJNpwWVBL81E7F0ccpvCp9vnktBvMyIyZWVip191e6kshdjOhvV6Rg0Beg_Hk6p30G5N5GaCkkISViqruGoxant8/s1600/IMG_1891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkrewa_QKq2LkhKOsyci7loOeejPcp6tkniyvM-hf9xzeszCbHSvpJNpwWVBL81E7F0ccpvCp9vnktBvMyIyZWVip191e6kshdjOhvV6Rg0Beg_Hk6p30G5N5GaCkkISViqruGoxant8/s320/IMG_1891.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
One day folks, one day, sooner than you think, these kids are going to grow up and take their beautiful brains and bodies out of your house. They are going to be challenged in ways that we never were as young people and you know what: if they do not know why they are following those rules in the first place, they WILL NOT follow them. They will walk away because there was not a reason. There was no real grace. There was no Jesus.<br />
<br />
Jesus is beautiful. Jesus is my all in all. He is everything. I love Him. I want to obey him. I want to serve and sacrifice. I see my sin, daily and I hate it. His yoke is light but it would not be if I didn't actually know him. The weight of the law and all the rules is a burden that cannot be kept and will only produce despair or pride in our children. The law...the rules are merely to point our children towards Christ. They cannot obey the rules perfectly and we do not want them to pretend that they can. And as a side, we do not want them to believe that we can obey them perfectly either.<br />
<br />
I looked at my teen today and said this exact thing: "I will love you no matter what kind of music you choose to listen to. I may think it unwise. I may even have to ban a certain song, though I hope it wouldn't come to that, but I want to know what you are listening to and why you like it." I do not want her to not like a song, because she thinks I will disapprove. Part of growing in her relationship with the Lord is her realization that what she listens to is what she puts directly into her heart. That has to be important to her, not just to me. I don't want a show. I don't want pretenders. I pray for the real deal: children that know the Lord and want to make Him known to the world. I know you do too.all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-29968948523080732112016-09-16T21:49:00.001-07:002016-09-16T21:51:21.793-07:00The Post with a Cute Picture but Really No Depth. At all. Hi my name is Kari Jo. Well, really it's Karrie Jo. But since it's pronounced the same way either way it's spelt, I won't bore you with that silly story.<br />
<br />
Wait, yes I will.<br />
<br />
On my birth certificate my dear mother spelt my name Karrie. Then she taught me to spell it Kari. She says it's b/c she wanted me to be called Kari Jo and well, Karrie Jo was just too long. I say it's b/c she thought it was too long for me to learn to spell. Silly, I know.<br />
<br />
Now you know where I get it.<br />
<br />
Seriously. Weirdness runs in the family.<br />
<br />
And I like to stay up late. Right now it's exactly 11:43 and by the time I'm done rereading this post for the gajillionth (I may also be a bit of a drama queen) time, it will be close to midnight. I really do heart staying up late. It's a problem.<br />
<br />
'Specially since I have 8 kids.<br />
<br />
Yes, 8.<br />
<br />
Don't worry, it's not a competition. But if it was....<br />
<br />
kidding, it's Soooo not.<br />
<br />
There are so many things I want to write about at the moment but I'm not going to just yet. Mostly because of the aforementioned 8 children who will want to do things like eat breakfast at 7 am promptly and I will want to roll over and pretend I am still kidless (wait, was I ever kidless?) in the morning if I don't go to bed really, <i>very</i> soon.<br />
<br />
I just wanted to share this picture with you because it captures my heart.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpdZ5-mSrtJT_yDkyqf1Kfmp6TNCixRqKs8wBq9n-eobaiukCSEfDxA6_-ZGmN9W7dITFGbyXGsoRGdYZ8-LG8ShLpvQBipSO_whxbLS2Xs2ptRxGqiXc0IjZrtMZWaSzlcu3vX1xG28/s1600/IMG_1907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpdZ5-mSrtJT_yDkyqf1Kfmp6TNCixRqKs8wBq9n-eobaiukCSEfDxA6_-ZGmN9W7dITFGbyXGsoRGdYZ8-LG8ShLpvQBipSO_whxbLS2Xs2ptRxGqiXc0IjZrtMZWaSzlcu3vX1xG28/s640/IMG_1907.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And that is all. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My Love and my littlest love. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Together.</div>
<br />
My heart might burst open.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-1103474573686658032016-08-26T07:11:00.000-07:002016-08-26T07:25:39.451-07:00Gotcha Day 2016<div style="text-align: center;">
This is how my day ended. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was 11 and she waited up for me to come home from a meeting. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Of course she did.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhJYHMiKFlVpNgUiJnjkSk0M_EIqUHt26Q1ZwvMYc2MQ1r17cLvBnknDl5LcRkMn1ix_bPzN5h1QAVnORvuUDLqOSz6f-byjT-y_hqS3NmWWCZxoHmThPr-bhhv4QeW7EZmIKf7AywOg/s1600/IMG_1856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhJYHMiKFlVpNgUiJnjkSk0M_EIqUHt26Q1ZwvMYc2MQ1r17cLvBnknDl5LcRkMn1ix_bPzN5h1QAVnORvuUDLqOSz6f-byjT-y_hqS3NmWWCZxoHmThPr-bhhv4QeW7EZmIKf7AywOg/s320/IMG_1856.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I used to be, sadly, frustrated by this sort of thing.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And sadly, sometimes I still am.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because days around here can be very long.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And yesterday was one of those long days....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but in a good way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqGG-AM9JGF1VEV9BiCLwRkJ8cdo3j9G4na9kr01opEHJAq1-0JFlpulVa9-e6EUcoNxC4sc_RLm2b6RCKP_IcIkwMHY4sUH8987409bPga8M507dG0zeRha8tk_agfBWX05T-vweiFs/s1600/IMG_1796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqGG-AM9JGF1VEV9BiCLwRkJ8cdo3j9G4na9kr01opEHJAq1-0JFlpulVa9-e6EUcoNxC4sc_RLm2b6RCKP_IcIkwMHY4sUH8987409bPga8M507dG0zeRha8tk_agfBWX05T-vweiFs/s320/IMG_1796.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It was Gotcha day. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Very probably my favorite day of the year.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Even more so than Christmas.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And if you know me that's saying something big</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidX8P9T6sZkxIU1PjZXIFvxIpFegNhrDR7LWzkP0D3qUR0wFkBz2tls85xMPu2cvKT22BbGE5HzNzrbvh3ILf5Cz6v2pWtNhm1b3i-cRBgtaMYTT0RYbkm7WHnYCj1sSrbeIFoBDcluRA/s1600/IMG_1817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidX8P9T6sZkxIU1PjZXIFvxIpFegNhrDR7LWzkP0D3qUR0wFkBz2tls85xMPu2cvKT22BbGE5HzNzrbvh3ILf5Cz6v2pWtNhm1b3i-cRBgtaMYTT0RYbkm7WHnYCj1sSrbeIFoBDcluRA/s320/IMG_1817.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This girl.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She has my heart all twisted sometimes.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She's so beautiful.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And kind.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Which matters most, I think.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvbIXOxI1hEEN9lZVKMi4SPS8Yv4pamEFZB_gNeVIYUqS_2qhS8IvITgViIFbAtaLTuur52TBgmbMLdJbsr_OuArU9xdHy19m2n8hSnMC-4ygjR-_dy5iKdOJmhcPOWYO_1LuKKt2dyw/s1600/IMG_1818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvbIXOxI1hEEN9lZVKMi4SPS8Yv4pamEFZB_gNeVIYUqS_2qhS8IvITgViIFbAtaLTuur52TBgmbMLdJbsr_OuArU9xdHy19m2n8hSnMC-4ygjR-_dy5iKdOJmhcPOWYO_1LuKKt2dyw/s320/IMG_1818.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And she totally rocks the Chucks.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Rocks them. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1xqos4nmzH5LWAFQ6hIlBH2YvlzJ2bCsKLHOUtbeZ1pxAf-0M-xts2zddjapjHGxU_a-X-TUbC8aqnSiu53amWQ6dVwd56qcaxKOcyqMEJNUbWBjNhBlHx-_eKldRx2FhuQtbHYErCk/s1600/IMG_1819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1xqos4nmzH5LWAFQ6hIlBH2YvlzJ2bCsKLHOUtbeZ1pxAf-0M-xts2zddjapjHGxU_a-X-TUbC8aqnSiu53amWQ6dVwd56qcaxKOcyqMEJNUbWBjNhBlHx-_eKldRx2FhuQtbHYErCk/s320/IMG_1819.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Pretty boy.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's a good thing too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Thats all all I'll say about that.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8Si5cLnpp-hG_A6ctjFOZZ-DY7sXPFNry30040-1IKGVUEbBy1EfWL6ojYsMpOpfqBvjgShLjXGX8yE0OKTtMctYdlFetf4902qC2n3rfQu0QZkRIDpgJE0EeynBbsffuulNaOUvYho/s1600/IMG_1823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8Si5cLnpp-hG_A6ctjFOZZ-DY7sXPFNry30040-1IKGVUEbBy1EfWL6ojYsMpOpfqBvjgShLjXGX8yE0OKTtMctYdlFetf4902qC2n3rfQu0QZkRIDpgJE0EeynBbsffuulNaOUvYho/s320/IMG_1823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
No really, it's a love worth fighting for.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A love given to me from the Lord.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Never easy.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
As with some, it will never be.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfrdtqsvMR_W25fXL_0gx1wvSuFiROBDauYQXeSR5cafNnmF-gHWEleNaQvpvp0fWIXhTDs0rvXE1RxdlKQnp_1FuDuzy2g5Jh2BHIISH95EYUhxsis9_Ms5y6OJeqRSJbY-xkStiiwQ/s1600/IMG_1832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfrdtqsvMR_W25fXL_0gx1wvSuFiROBDauYQXeSR5cafNnmF-gHWEleNaQvpvp0fWIXhTDs0rvXE1RxdlKQnp_1FuDuzy2g5Jh2BHIISH95EYUhxsis9_Ms5y6OJeqRSJbY-xkStiiwQ/s320/IMG_1832.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I mean really?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Can a little person be any cuter?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Or more terrific?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She did just throw a MAJOR tantrum before this....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
something about having to share her Bahama Bucks. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The shirt is a good reminder for me. :)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2f_t9rGP0YYzNj3SJ3PFG46y___HimDuFUL0gU9Wj0vTCNKRm6YEA1FDUYBjmCnvRNM97mFplLe3x6SSQLMn1ifAYBR_laJm3AfAFSO29zFrzZy0nM_KsnUBA3QlT0DYAJiQqSPGZiE/s1600/IMG_1808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2f_t9rGP0YYzNj3SJ3PFG46y___HimDuFUL0gU9Wj0vTCNKRm6YEA1FDUYBjmCnvRNM97mFplLe3x6SSQLMn1ifAYBR_laJm3AfAFSO29zFrzZy0nM_KsnUBA3QlT0DYAJiQqSPGZiE/s320/IMG_1808.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
These two.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Best friends.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Melt my heart.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPeafORjEgKy_91JnAfXcnja1qv1mpjGSVA6yud3kPfHLRq-V3MiLWP72-3N_FJdm7WimCMPyCbVbxeT600x98zAqmtiI4yqMbPUBVpy15I_AA_LYZYbR_veNUQqsXv7HKCAPqm7pay8/s1600/IMG_1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPeafORjEgKy_91JnAfXcnja1qv1mpjGSVA6yud3kPfHLRq-V3MiLWP72-3N_FJdm7WimCMPyCbVbxeT600x98zAqmtiI4yqMbPUBVpy15I_AA_LYZYbR_veNUQqsXv7HKCAPqm7pay8/s320/IMG_1841.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
They all do, really.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx6V94EhX8k3y2KHuCMWDuKyTjk-mQ5oINzWAN2iXy4frn8buJMmt4nRVOi5-4DMTkp4aZLH4BOCpeuyulGv-ZumMf1vUB1yQplvuL2DFBgRV7L4HVp2dVDUjb-cQGnC5OqRpLcMrWn8/s1600/IMG_1847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx6V94EhX8k3y2KHuCMWDuKyTjk-mQ5oINzWAN2iXy4frn8buJMmt4nRVOi5-4DMTkp4aZLH4BOCpeuyulGv-ZumMf1vUB1yQplvuL2DFBgRV7L4HVp2dVDUjb-cQGnC5OqRpLcMrWn8/s320/IMG_1847.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This was a massive photobomb fail on Koen's part.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So funny.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5AFZCdwI2Pbrez9BIvVsXBZIGdMMRszofzkYDqLajPHfFlm3CJJDXSueYULHZ75Hp8pZU63wHWEOLs1qiwUY-ZIg4Nx5bM3mJfqQEBsVYfUX9yiuKDkFxQAn76_x7OqpXER6UQwiCOvk/s1600/IMG_1802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5AFZCdwI2Pbrez9BIvVsXBZIGdMMRszofzkYDqLajPHfFlm3CJJDXSueYULHZ75Hp8pZU63wHWEOLs1qiwUY-ZIg4Nx5bM3mJfqQEBsVYfUX9yiuKDkFxQAn76_x7OqpXER6UQwiCOvk/s320/IMG_1802.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Being the oldest brother of this crazy train isn't always easy.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
He wears it well though, I think.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5MYLaR0vZIpaRXMXyAnWuJJ8-e0-gYIidKMiw5acRc_BgzBXdMYRxyaiv4NtVNtG7HhQEkjNvmUN6YMa5x6JXRv2-ceFbDMdPeZbO0GlcQkKSDtIl1K_DCGRnSHNbZBE2sQkI50Szhc/s1600/IMG_1805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5MYLaR0vZIpaRXMXyAnWuJJ8-e0-gYIidKMiw5acRc_BgzBXdMYRxyaiv4NtVNtG7HhQEkjNvmUN6YMa5x6JXRv2-ceFbDMdPeZbO0GlcQkKSDtIl1K_DCGRnSHNbZBE2sQkI50Szhc/s320/IMG_1805.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
They've been best buds since three years ago.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Having your best friend become your brother.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Only God can do that.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Amazing.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIk_ycJkyWbBsasf5oMm-mSsmjEwvIkOlSxnkR0DrRbq6mLAzaLgtVPk2EYVZsAdp0zWOdGHDimwWcSrSBhounE1Ao4jLl9677UXI48pM7wr6A3Gst-ZHLimxnqkoRn93kLBEuTRWi-s/s1600/IMG_1853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIk_ycJkyWbBsasf5oMm-mSsmjEwvIkOlSxnkR0DrRbq6mLAzaLgtVPk2EYVZsAdp0zWOdGHDimwWcSrSBhounE1Ao4jLl9677UXI48pM7wr6A3Gst-ZHLimxnqkoRn93kLBEuTRWi-s/s320/IMG_1853.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I think this pix sums up our day and my reality on a daily basis.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Prayers appreciated</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Ha!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Kidding...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
well sort of.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-15026578791942013802016-08-08T14:03:00.000-07:002016-08-08T14:09:14.398-07:00Learning and Relearning<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's been so long that I've written about schooling that perhaps many of you thought that we don't teach at home anymore. I'm not sure why this is. It takes up much of my time and energy, but maybe it's just not my platform. Or something like that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyhoot, (I totally stole this from <a href="http://babynumber10.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">another gal in the blogosphere</a>...she says it all the time and I heart it) we are actually doing a really fun study right now on the Olympics. Amanda Bennett has these <a href="http://www.unitstudy.com/" target="_blank">fabulous unit studies</a> that she has put together and really sister, all I have to do is click and read. My kind of study! My kids heart these. She offers a Monday Wonder each week and you can get a whole <a href="http://unitstudy.com/category/specials/" target="_blank">unit study for $6</a>. Yes, for almost less than that latte that you just bought from the coffee store that is taking over the world. The world, I say!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyhoot, (sorry...well, not really) maybe on Monday it was the lack of structure we've been having since our move (yes, we moved again. That's another story for another day. Maybe not ever. I digress. Sigh...) or the very loud yelling I heard downstairs that propelled me to my computer desk to purchase my copy. I was sure the kids would be excited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And they were. Oh! Yes! They were. This was the kind of yelling I like to hear. Not the kind that was going on downstairs earlier. I do not, I do not, I do not like green eggs and yelling in my kitchen. Ever!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And like most other things I make my kids do with school, even when they're excited and hoot and hollar about it, when we reached the middle on that first day there were those same yells that I don't like so much coming from children about correct spelling and me catching the 4th grader really, REALLY having to think about just which way the letter "b" goes. Let me just tell you how much a homeschooling mom llloooovvveeess to see that. Not so much. Maybe this is why we're doing this now. So I don't pull my hair out when school does officially start in Sept. I don't think patchy bald is my look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But what I do looooovvvveeee about school is that I actually get to relearn all the things I should have learned the first time around when I was just a snot of a girl writing notes to friends and doodling in my notebook instead of actually caring about what I was learning in school. And I get to learn them with my kids. And make them care. Or at least try very, very hard to make them care. And pray that they do by the time they're old enough to not be under my tutelage. Wait, is there an official age for that? Let me know if you're a mom and you know. Ok? Ok.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because this week subjects came up that I was not initially thinking would. Subjects like slavery, share cropping, Jim Crow laws, and one man that rose above the terrible sin against him with grace and humility.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.jesseowens.com/" target="_blank">Jesse Owens</a> was his name. The moment I said his name, I had one son say, "Oh, yeah! I know ALL about him from Vacation Bible School this year." Well, I did not know ALL about him so we looked him up online (ahem, clicked the link) and found out about his incredible story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jesse Owens was the grandson of a slave and the son of a sharecropper. My kids know about slavery but did not know what share cropping was, nor did they remember what Jim Crow laws were and how not very long ago they existed. Jessie was his mother and father's 7th child. By the time he was in high school he had made a very big name for himself in the area of track and field. In the 1936 Olympics that was held in Nazi Germany, Owens was the first man to win four gold metals in a single Olympiad. More than that Jesse Owens' character spoke volumes to the entire world that was watching.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">"</span></i><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">Although others have gone on to win more gold medals than Jesse, he remains the best remembered Olympic athlete because he achieved what no Olympian before or since has accomplished. During a time of deep-rooted segregation, he not only discredited Hitler's master race theory, but also affirmed that individual excellence, rather than race or national origin, distinguishes one man from another."</span></i><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: #fef9dc;">(</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://www.jesseowens.com/about/" target="_blank">www.jessieowens.com, about, para. 5</a>)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">Individual excellence.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> Amen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I could preach here at you, but I'm afraid there are too many loud and proud voices out there and I don't want to add to the volume that keeps amplifying. I am so thankful though, that God ordains my days in such a way that I am able to have these important conversations with our children about loving others well and seeing people for the individuals that the Lord has created in His very own image especially during a very, very hard time in America. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">And can I just add a PS while I'm plunking? If you're like me, shaken and aching for black people and feel helpless about what to do or how to gain perspective... i</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">f you are looking for any encouraging voice in the crowd, I encourage you to head on over to <a href="http://www.thebenjaminwatson.com/category/blog/" target="_blank">Benjamin Watson</a>'s blog <a href="http://www.thebenjaminwatson.com/2016/name-benjamin-watson-christian-american-culturally-black/" target="_blank">Truth in the Game</a>. He's written and continues to write passionately about race in America. And while your at it read all about <a href="http://www.jesseowens.com/" target="_blank">Jessie Owens</a> and watch the video below. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">Remarkable. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px;">Truly, truly remarkable.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/quQopJmQry4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/quQopJmQry4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8357923211463561844.post-80751969224997868822016-07-21T11:53:00.002-07:002016-07-21T11:53:41.350-07:00He Calls me Mom.<div style="text-align: center;">
Him: What did I call Ms. Cari when I lived with them?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me: Mom</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Him: What did I call the Strucks when I lived with them?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me: Mom and Dad</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Him: And, of course, I called Audrey mom when I lived with her.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me: of course.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Him: WEIRD. That is SO weird, Mom!!!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me: Not really, because they were acting like moms to you and you called them as much.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Him: But it would be so weird to call someone else mom now. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You're my mom.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Me: *smiles, teary eyed*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgND2-caD9WFukjfM06gkE0ub5BgtvllFLYNvQDLCd-6T_zkoQTz6VfG48GjmsjmmgU9RMMOl4m45pgYhF8s2yBEia8B3W2maCfRwY3vHyX6aTtOKE1nOsvnkCHPzG_61_RD1nh1RLpew/s1600/IMG_1655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgND2-caD9WFukjfM06gkE0ub5BgtvllFLYNvQDLCd-6T_zkoQTz6VfG48GjmsjmmgU9RMMOl4m45pgYhF8s2yBEia8B3W2maCfRwY3vHyX6aTtOKE1nOsvnkCHPzG_61_RD1nh1RLpew/s320/IMG_1655.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
These are the moments that I want to cling to as an adoptive mother. So many moments around here are hard and feel a bit lonely. If you knew how hard it is for a foster child who has had lived through multiple placements before being adopted, to look at me and really call me mother (as in NO ONE else is my mother), you would agree that this is no small miracle of the heart. If you knew how hard is is for a mother to look at a son, not born of her womb, and to truly call him her son, you would nod and amen that this is no small miracle in her heart either.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It feels a little like the mountain in front of us is not Everest anymore...maybe just a daily walk up Sugarloaf. There was a time that I was sure he wouldn't see every birthday as a year older but a year closer to finding his "real parents." And I was ok with that. Most of the time anyway.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OeWpE_u8jlJ1dCBAaipFo8WIz81hVxq3Bszxwk3OR2Ud57K3cFuJgsJqx2eMe5E0orOiwTtmYrVeGqXBaAtbHpRmAm21e7KVH9pHJKLex_iLNNbke59vHgMI8oVxAx3Xy_fle5vpb2s/s1600/IMG_1658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8OeWpE_u8jlJ1dCBAaipFo8WIz81hVxq3Bszxwk3OR2Ud57K3cFuJgsJqx2eMe5E0orOiwTtmYrVeGqXBaAtbHpRmAm21e7KVH9pHJKLex_iLNNbke59vHgMI8oVxAx3Xy_fle5vpb2s/s320/IMG_1658.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There will be days that he won't know where he belongs. There will be days where the last name that is now his, may not to seem to fit just right. There will be questions that we just cannot answer and feelings that we have not felt. We will have to see through his eyes. There will be hurt, and some anger. We will walk closely with him and all the others of the same last name as ours on their quest to find out who exactly they are and answer the question, "who am I?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But no matter what I will forever be his mother. His mom. I am ever so humbled that, just like the children I have born of my womb, God, in is great grace granted my Love and I the privilege of calling him son. From the foundations of the earth, from the beginning of time he was ours. They all were. Amazing isn't it?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Amazing how God has given us three children with a completely different background, biological parents, genetics and made them ours. Their identity is not in what they used to be, what biological family they are from but who they are now. We are not being really nice folk that try to raise other people's children for awhile as a favor. No, they are ours. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Adoption.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QWBpbgPYHVbyEQ1U2C0G2lykPs2iuFbij0lKNKZfuYFSz-9B5OQktTk6mrTRv8PIDXINAD4vPnpf9FApNS9E2zeZbOOYqxMNSQZoCX1Lh077chruGz_gAh5FmSIuGk4ty68qplhALy0/s1600/IMG_1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QWBpbgPYHVbyEQ1U2C0G2lykPs2iuFbij0lKNKZfuYFSz-9B5OQktTk6mrTRv8PIDXINAD4vPnpf9FApNS9E2zeZbOOYqxMNSQZoCX1Lh077chruGz_gAh5FmSIuGk4ty68qplhALy0/s320/IMG_1694.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What a beautiful testimony of the grace of God in our own lives. We do not have to be defined by who we used to be, but who he has made us to be through the Cross of Christ. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I realize this is a lot easier to figure out in our heads than our hearts. It's a lot easier to say that we are seen by God as he sees his very own son, Jesus. But for me our walk as an adoptive family, is a walk in this truth: I am nothing in myself. I am only the daughter of the one true king. I can try to find my identity in other things: money, motherhood, other's opinions of me, being a good wife, writing, what car I drive, how many people I think I help, the "good" that I might do, how clean my house is etc. but nothing can satisfy the weighty question of who exactly I am, like my Jesus and being His daughter. Nothing can define me more than he has already done.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Come, he says, all you are weary and heavy laden </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and I will give you rest. (Matt. 11:28) </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Come, he says, and I will quench your thirst such that </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you will never thirst again. (John 4:14)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
all10popeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07808967405430595149noreply@blogger.com2