tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40751264760305827822024-03-14T19:15:44.133+13:00the art of sojourningcarolyn broughtonCarolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.comBlogger340125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-43365916419641424612015-02-03T05:17:00.000+13:002015-02-03T05:48:18.467+13:00My One Word for 2015 {with NEW song debut!}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">So... a two-month blog silence! Read on to find out why... </span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(I wrote this post last week on our return journey to </span>Central<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Asia, but I couldn't post earlier due to Internet issues.) Remember to click the Soundcloud link at the bottom to listen to my NEW song! </span></span></i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Queenstown & the Remarkables, New Zealand South Island</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span><span style="font-size: 18px;">s I write this, I am sitting in a place called “Caffé Béne”, in the bustling heart of an Asian metropolis, sipping a barista-brewed latte - my last for a while - absentmindedly staring at the cafe’s weird East-meets-West decor, and thinking about rest.</span></div>
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Right now we’re in a few days of limbo between two months of “Kiwi-leave” in New Zealand and returning to our current “home” on the field in Central Asia. Home-leave offers a welcome break from the pressures and tensions of life overseas, but while returning to a western country is restful in that I can function in my heart language and I don’t have to cook every meal from scratch, the short times back in our passport countries are usually packed with people to see, places to go, and opportunities to share what God has been doing. </div>
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This time for us was no different. We’ve rested as we’ve been ministered to in prayer by faithful saints; we’ve rested as we’ve drunk deeply of New Zealand’s natural beauty, and as we’ve enjoyed the delicious, relaxed hospitality of treasured friends. But we’ve been busy, and it’s taken its toll. We’re tired, our kids are tired, and our family is running a bit ragged.</div>
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I snuck out this afternoon while the kids are napping to write you a note in this little online space which I’ve devoted to exploring the art of this sojourning life. Most of us are no strangers to feeling fatigued, so I’m especially excited to share with you my word for 2015! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lake Pukaki, New Zealand South Island</i></td></tr>
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Last year, I felt God calling me to <i><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">listen</a>. </i>If you’re interested, <span id="goog_366991940"></span>you can read some of the things I learned <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">here</a><span id="goog_366991941"></span>… and after 12 months of exploring and experimenting, I am fully aware my lessons in real, true listening have only just begun! </div>
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This year, flowing on from <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">listening</a>, I’ve been invited by God to </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">rest</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
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for a while. </div>
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To rest from striving, from filling my life with effort and strain, to rest from the internet rat-race I’ve been unwittingly running. </div>
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I’ve been invited to rest from my own agenda, from compulsively planning and preparing. God is inviting me to go with the flow. To surrender. To submit to what each day brings. To submit afresh to my husband. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">To surrender afresh to my Lord. </span></div>
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To rest in the care of my Good Shepherd, and let this little corner of the web lie quiet for a while, while I listen to His voice. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">This year, the word God is giving me for 2015 is rest. </span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Milford Sound, New Zealand South Island</i></td></tr>
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I am <i>so</i> happy about this word. Whew! What a relief! </div>
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Towards the end of last year, I noticed myself struggling with the tension between wanting to develop and promote some sort of personal “brand” online and the actual reality of my tiny snippets of free time. The worst part was, no matter how much time I spent tweaking, planning and writing, I never felt like I measured up to all the other amazing blogs and writers I love. Frankly, I fell into the comparison trap, and it isn’t very restful! I’ve also noticed that, instead of providing a satisfying outlet, blogging seems to feed a fever inside of me to reach for more ambitious projects than my stage in life will allow - things like writing a book (or two!) which would require me to sacrifice time my children need with me right now. </div>
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I was sharing these tensions with a friend, and her quiet, wise response stopped me in my tracks.</div>
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“Maybe you could write your blog on the hearts of your children.”</div>
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You know? Maybe I could.</div>
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I feel God inviting me to rest in the presence of my children. I’ve been so busy managing them I’ve forgotten how to enjoy them. Over these past couple months, as friends and loved ones reconnected with our family after a 2-year absence, seeing and hearing their comments and watching their joy in my kids jogged me into realizing I need to rediscover their preciousness all over again. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I need to tend their souls. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I need to observe their needs attentively and bring them to Jesus. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I need to rest my soul in prayer for them, carrying them to the heart of their Creator. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I need to seek wisdom as I try to do my part in shaping their character and their hearts. </span></div>
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So, as this fresh new year unrolls <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">practically speaking, among other things</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I am taking a six-month blog break from January to July. </b> </span></div>
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Instead of writing for this space, I will be journalling about rest - and whatever else the Lord lays on my heart. </div>
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I want to explore the beautiful theme of rest running through the Bible. </div>
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I long to explore new - and old - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422889730&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God" target="_blank">rhythms of Sabbath rest</a>, to learn how to rest well with my family… alone… in God’s creation… and in conversation. </div>
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I’d love to increase my margins, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Spiritual-Whitespace-Awakening-Your-ebook/dp/B00GHXRBIS/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1422889727&sr=8-2&keywords=whitespace" target="_blank">create more whitespace in my life</a>. Earlier bedtimes, earlier rising times, more pausing, more looking around, more awareness. </div>
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This year, I want to feed my soul creatively while feeding my <i>family</i> creatively (the end of last year saw us in a pretty monotonous menu rut!). </div>
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I want to enjoy bringing my kids joy, and learning how to help each of them rest in the way he or she needs most. </div>
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Every time I think the word “rest” to myself, I feel a delicious sense of ownership and anticipation. <i>Rest</i>. What a wonderful word. I am looking forward to exploring it, doing it, experiencing and living it. </div>
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I am anticipating <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422889730&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God" target="_blank">discovering the <i>rest of God</i></a>. </div>
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Do you feel a tug on your soul to join me? If you do, will you pray for me, as I pray for you, that these next six months will be filled with refreshment of the soul and a rest we have never known? </div>
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One verse God has laid on my heart for this year is from <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus+33&version=ESV" target="_blank">Exodus 33</a>, during one of the most remarkable conversations in the Bible. It takes place between God and Moses, right after the people of Israel have sinned greatly and God has punished them with plague and the sword. Then, He pronounces the worst punishment of all: He is sending them on ahead, but He is not going with them lest He consume them on the way, for they are a “stiff-necked people”. </div>
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(When I see that phrase, I feel the stiffness in my own neck - a trait my two-year-old daughter has certainly inherited!) </div>
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Moses begs God to go with them, on the grounds that it’s His presence that sets the children of Israel apart from every other nation. <b>It’s the fact that God travels physically in their midst, leading and guiding them <i>Himself</i>, that marks them out as God’s chosen ones. </b></div>
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Moses reminds God that He has said, “I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.” Then he pleads, “Now therefore, if I have found favor in your sight, please show me now your ways, that I may know you in order to find favor in your sight. Consider too that this nation is your people.”</div>
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And God’s answer takes your breath away: </div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><i>“My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” </i></b> <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus+33&version=ESV" target="_blank"><i>(Ex. 33:14)</i></a></div>
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There’s a lot more to this passage, and I’m planning to dive into it more and more deeply as this year unwinds, but for right now, I’m savoring those beautiful words tucked away in the middle of the conversation: <b>“My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” </b></div>
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Rest from our enemies. Rest from the desert. Rest from being alone. Rest from slavery, from wandering, from the monotony of manna. Rest from bickering and quarreling and complaining. </div>
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<i>Rest</i>. In the presence of God. </div>
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Mmmm. Doesn’t that sound good?</div>
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So. I’ll see you in July. In the meantime, I’ll tuck myself away in our little Central Asian village, enjoy my children, love my husband, cook some yummy food, and explore <i>rest</i>. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JvatN3vMVKI/VM-fodnqJ-I/AAAAAAAADbk/uQgl6ZNZgVA/s1600/Ex3314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JvatN3vMVKI/VM-fodnqJ-I/AAAAAAAADbk/uQgl6ZNZgVA/s1600/Ex3314.jpg" height="494" width="640" /></a>P.S. I recently wrote a new song around <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus+33&version=ESV" target="_blank">Exodus 33:14</a>, called “<a href="https://soundcloud.com/carolyn-broughton/rest">Rest</a>”… <a href="https://soundcloud.com/carolyn-broughton/rest" target="_blank">click here to listen on Soundcloud</a>. May you be refreshed! </div>
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<b><i>What’s your word for 2015? What about it excites you? What about it is challenging? What do you hope God will do in you this year through this word?</i></b></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-712778560118533312014-12-01T06:00:00.000+13:002014-12-01T06:00:02.481+13:00Advent for Preschoolers {a resource for your family Advent celebration}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 30px;">S</span>everal years ago, our eldest son was just coming to the age where he could understand the true meaning of Christmas at a deeper level. I wanted to start doing the four Sundays of Advent with our family, but the traditional service I had grown up with was too hard for our kids to grasp, and I realized I needed something simpler.</div>
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Out of necessity I pieced together a simple service for each of the four Sundays of Advent, plus Christmas Day (when it falls on a day other than a Sunday). I called it “Advent for Preschoolers” and our family has used it for the past 3 or 4 Advent seasons. I have tweaked the lessons slightly each year based on what has worked with our kids and what doesn’t.</div>
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I would like to make this a free PDF link, but I can’t figure out how to do it. (I think Blogger may not support such high-tech options!) So I am posting the first Sunday of Advent here on my blog, and please email me at <a href="mailto:carolyn@carolynbroughton.com"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(1, 26, 153); color: #011a99;">carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</span></a> for the complete FREE 15-page “Advent for Preschoolers” PDF file (including optional Christmas carols) for you to use with your family. </div>
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<i>{Please feel free to forward it to others you think might enjoy using it with their families, but please do not alter the content in any way or charge for those copies. Thank you!}</i></div>
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<b><i>Introduction</i></b></div>
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Each Sunday of December, our family lights another candle and prepares for Jesus’ coming: both His coming to earth as a baby at Christmas, and His coming back to earth again as our King. </div>
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This year (2013) on the first Sunday of Advent we were reading through Week 1 with our kids. As we read, our three-year-old began absorb the fact that Jesus was really coming back to earth one day. </div>
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“He’s <i>really </i>coming back?” he kept asking, with big wide eyes. “And we’ll <i>see </i>Him?” </div>
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At the literal age of three, having a relationship with Someone you can’t see is continually frustrating. I was a bit afraid he was starting to think Jesus was coming back to earth <b><i>this Christmas Day</i></b>, and tried to explain that no one knows the day or the hour of His return... But I felt a glow of warmth that even at three, he was absorbing these important facts about Jesus, through our family Advent worship. </div>
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Our family uses a candelabra that holds five candles which we light in the following order, adding one each week of Advent: </div>
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<b>Week 1: </b><i>The Prophets’ Candle (Hope) </i>- White </div>
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<b>Week 2: </b><i>The Angels’ Candle (Joy) </i>- Yellow </div>
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<b>Week 3: </b><i>The Shepherds’ Candle (Good News) </i>- Green </div>
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<b>Week 4: </b><i>The Wise Mens’ Candle (Worship) </i>- Purple </div>
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<b>Christmas Day: </b><i>The Jesus Candle (Love) </i>- Red </div>
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Some families use four white candles with a red one for Christmas Day. Feel free to use whatever suits your family. </div>
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May you be blessed as you read through these weeks together, and may you draw closer to Jesus together as a family this Advent season! </div>
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Merry Christmas! </div>
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Carolyn Broughton </div>
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<i>Advent for Preschoolers - Week 1 </i></div>
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<b>First Sunday of Advent: “The Prophet’s Candle – Hope” </b></div>
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<b>Mother: </b>The season of ADVENT begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. ADVENT means "COMING" or “ARRIVAL”. Whose coming to the earth do we celebrate on Christmas Day? </div>
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<b>Child</b>: Jesus! </div>
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<b>Mother</b>: Right! During ADVENT, we get ready to celebrate the “arrival” of God’s Son Jesus as a baby. We also get ready for Jesus to come back again as our King. Let’s start getting our hearts ready for Jesus’ coming. </div>
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<b>Mother</b>: What are these on the table? <b>Child</b>: Candles! </div>
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<b>Mother: </b>Do you know why we light candles during Advent? Candles remind us that Jesus is the LIGHT of God coming into our dark, sinful world. Remember? Jesus said, “I am the LIGHT of the world.” Every Sunday of Advent, we light one more candle to prepare for Jesus’ coming. </div>
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<b>Father: </b>Do you know the name of the first candle? The first candle is called “The PROPHETS’ Candle”. It reminds us of the PROPHETS in the Bible who foretold Jesus’ birthday hundreds of years before He was born. </div>
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Do you know what the Prophets’ Candle means to us? It reminds us of the HOPE God’s people had as they waited for the coming of a Messiah, a Savior. God showed His prophets that He was planning to send a Savior for His people. Do you know who that Savior was? </div>
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<b>Child</b>: Jesus!</div>
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<b>Father</b>: Right! God’s promise to send a Messiah, a Savior, was fulfilled when He sent His Son Jesus to earth. But do you still see sin and darkness in the world? </div>
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<b>Child</b>: Yes. </div>
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<b>Father</b>: So we are still waiting with HOPE, like the prophets and God’s people in the Bible, for Jesus to come back again to make the world new and get rid of sin forever. </div>
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<i>Isaiah 9, verses 2 and 6 </i>says: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great LIGHT; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a LIGHT has dawned. <b>For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, </b>and the government will be upon his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” </div>
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Who is the child who is born, the son who is given? <b>Child</b>: Jesus!<br />
<i>(Father lights the first candle) </i></div>
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<b>Father: </b>So, we light the PROPHETS’ candle to remind us that Jesus’ coming was foretold by the prophets, and that Jesus brings LIGHT and HOPE into a dark world. </div>
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Let’s pray. </div>
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<i>Dear Jesus,<br />
Thank you for coming into the world just like the prophets foretold. Thank you that you are the light of the world, and you bring us hope. Thank you that you will come back again to make the world new and take away sin forever.<br />
Amen. </i></div>
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<b>All Sing: </b>“Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” </div>
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Come, thou long-expected Jesus </div>
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Come, thou long expected Jesus! born to set thy people free, from our fears and sins release us let us find our rest in thee. Israel’s strength and consolation, hope of all the earth thou art, dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart. </div>
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Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a king, born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring. By thine own eternal Spirit, rule in all our hearts alone.<br />
by thine all sufficient merit, raise us to thy glorious throne. </div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-87992016072272253362014-11-29T06:00:00.000+13:002014-11-29T06:00:00.413+13:00Happy Birthday, William!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 30px;">H</span>appy Birthday, William! I can’t believe you’re 7 whole years old already. I am SO proud of you — this year your big event was starting local first grade in <i>Russian!</i> You have done <i>so well</i>, persevering with the writing homework and listening and understanding in class… your teacher told me how pleased she is with what a good student you are. <i>Way to go!</i></div>
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Even more than Russian school, I have been so thankful for the way you are letting Jesus grow your heart. Recently I noticed you really listening when Daddy points out things about your character - like learning how it feels to let Ben go first, or putting aside what you wanted to do to help your sister - and then later that day or the next day, I see you <i>doing </i>it!<i> That </i>is the way to grow, Will… listen to correction, and then do it. I hope you keep this pattern the rest of your life - it will sure help you grow into the young man God created you to be!</div>
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I love how attuned you are to God’s creation. You’re always drawing my attention to a cool rock, or a neat flower, or a new colorful bird. You notice the way the trees look against the sky, and you think about how things are made and how they work. You have the mind of a scientist, engineer and poet all wrapped in one. It’s so amazing watching you unfold! </div>
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I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful first-born son. I love spending time with you, just the two of us, reading (you love the National Geographic Science readers) or playing games (like chess, checkers, Connect4 and UNO)… you are a “quality time” kind of guy, and I love that about you.</div>
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You’re goofy too - you love to groove and beatbox, and your dance moves are legendary. You like U2, Bluetree, Colin Buchanan and any other hoppin’ beat you can find! You are a unique, quirky, wonderful kid, and I love you so much. I love every day I get to be your Mom! </div>
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I hope you have a wonderful, special birthday with your cousins in New Zealand this year, and know how loved and special you are!</div>
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XOXO <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Love, Mom</span></div>
Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-78642980282593971132014-11-24T06:00:00.000+13:002014-11-24T06:00:03.409+13:00Make Your Own Advent Calendar: Finishing Touches<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;">
<i>{Are you </i><b><i>making your own family Advent Calendar</i></b><i> to teach your children the Christmas story? Good for you! Time for the finishing touches! </i></div>
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<i>Click here for Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3…}</i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Making Your Own Advent Calendar: Finishing Touches</span></i></b></h2>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting Started…</span></b></h3>
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Gather your supplies:</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add Luke 2:11 to your calendar (Optional)…</span></b></h3>
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1. If desired, cut out a rectangular piece of gold felt the same size as the <b><i>back</i></b> of the folded-up storage section of your Advent Calendar. </div>
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2. With a red permanent marker, print Luke 2:11 on the gold rectangle. </div>
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3. Glue the rectangle upside down on the back of your felt background, so when you fold up your storage section the verse will appear right-side up. <br />
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Hanging Your Advent Calendar…</span></b></h3>
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1. Sew a straight seam along the safety-pinned allowance at the top of your piece of background felt.</div>
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2. Slide the dowel in, making sure it's long enough to stick out 1.5 - 2 inches on each end. <i>(My "dowel" is a backyard stick - I have to trim the knots off first! ;)</i><br />
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3. Tie a pretty Christmas ribbon around each end of the dowel, making sure your knots are tight enough so the ribbon won't slide in towards the center. <br />
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4. Hang your Advent Calendar! </div>
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<i>{If you included the verse on the back, it's your choice whether you fold up the storage section every day to show the verse, or whether you leave it unfolded until December 25 and have your kids fold it up for the first time on Christmas Day to display the verse under the finished manger scene.}</i></div>
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*****</div>
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<i>{For a free copy of the Christmas story divided into 25 pieces, email me at </i><a href="mailto:carolyn@carolynbroughton.com"><i>carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</i></a><i>. </i></div>
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<i>Include a photo of your finished calendar, if you want - I’d love to see it!}</i></div>
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*****</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christmas Devotional</span></h2>
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<i>Here's the story of my evening four years ago, November 2010, as I carried out the above instructions:</i></div>
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Out back, in our borrowed apple orchard, my husband hacks off a branch for me from one of the little apple trees. “Long enough?” he asks. I bring it in, the ice melting off its underside from the warmth of my hand. Feeling decidedly rustic, I sit with a kitchen knife and chip off buds along its length, smoothing the rough places. </div>
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I choose a reasonably smooth 70cm length from the middle - not too fat, not too thin. I clip each end with secateurs, try to get a clean cut. </div>
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I slide the stick into the sewn tube at the top of my felt Advent Calendar background. A bit rough-looking, but it’ll do the job - and I didn’t even slice my finger (came close a couple times, though!). </div>
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I sweep up the shavings, and think about Joseph being a carpenter. About the beautiful cradle he might have made for Mary’s baby’s birth. About the simple, rustic manger in which he had to lay Jesus instead, aware at some level that Jesus was much more than his natural son, that He was infinitely special. </div>
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Did Joseph mourn the lowliness of the manger, cursing the Roman decree that dragged them so far away from home at this most inconvenient time? Or was the manger well-crafted - did Joseph rejoice that the boy to be raised as a carpenter had good carpenter’s craft for his bed? Did he even think of it at all, so thankful he was for the safe delivery of this precious gift, for a place to lay the baby that lifted him off the cold dirt floor and the mice and rats?</div>
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James and I listen to our Sunday night sermon. I sew velcro on the backs of “frankincense” and “myrrh”, still missing a square gold button for the “gold”. No trip to the bazar this morning as planned: everyone sick with colds, huddled up away from the snow, drinking soup and hot tea and taking long naps. The gold button will have to wait. <br />
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My needle pokes and pulls, and <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/">John Piper</a> describes the afflictions of Christ, in <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/sermons/happy-in-hope-patient-in-pain-constant-in-prayer">a sermon from Romans</a> we chose at random. A Christmas sermon. Born as an illegitimate child, Jesus carried that slur all his life. The Pharisees threw it in his face. Forced to flee as a refugee almost immediately after he was born, barely escaped with his life; spent the first two years of his life sojourning in Egypt, grew up listening to a foreign tongue as his first language. </div>
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“Let’s have a balanced Christmas celebration,” urges Piper, unpacking Romans 12:12: “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” Rejoice in hope, Paul says, but that joy is an embattled joy, under constant attack from inside and outside. Piper quotes the angel’s words, “I bring you good news of GREAT joy!” and adds, “That little baby grew up and said, ‘I have not come to bring peace but a sword… and a person’s enemies will be those of his own household.” </div>
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Sufferings are normal. If you don’t have any right now, you will. And the thing is, we rejoice in our sufferings, not just in spite of them, because we know what sufferings do: they produce endurance. “More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Rom. 5:3-5)</div>
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So… a worn-out furnace, a broken door lock, a leaky sink, a surprise visit from our landlady when I’m still in my pajamas, relationship struggles, sickness, sleepless nights, feelings of futility and fruitlessness… all these are actually <i>gifts</i>, to be rejoiced in?<br />
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“We have a God who doesn’t just defeat the enemy, but turns that enemy into the servant of our faith. Every tribulation that comes your way has a design from Satan, and a different design from God,” says Piper. </div>
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“All our tribulation drives the roots of our joy into hope. For the Christian, the best is always yet to come. An hour before you die, the best is yet to come. The minute you wake up on the other side of death, the best is yet to come. After 10 million years of reveling in God’s presence, the best is <i>still</i> yet to come. In a profound sense, rejoicing for the Christian will always be in hope: the best is always yet to come!”</div>
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I stitch and sew and poke at the buttons for the wise men's gifts, and I think about these gifts the wise men are bringing to Jesus. I listen to Piper close <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/sermons/happy-in-hope-patient-in-pain-constant-in-prayer">his sermon</a> by asking, “So, what would the wise men answer when they’re told to “rejoice in hope”? They’ve got everything: gold, frankincense, nice clothes, elephants to ride on… What does a man like that say when he’s told, “Rejoice in hope”? When he’s got so much around him to rejoice in?”<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CEBWwFGQ8xw/VEjiKq4N3_I/AAAAAAAADV8/6hx_5JhVp_Y/s1600/DSC02157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CEBWwFGQ8xw/VEjiKq4N3_I/AAAAAAAADV8/6hx_5JhVp_Y/s1600/DSC02157.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Piper answers his own question: </div>
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“<b>We are given good gifts to enjoy - but only as gifts from God, and as pointers to God as the ultimate satisfaction of your soul.</b> All the pleasure in life - sex, food, relationships, thrills, more stuff - is created only to point you to Jesus. You will barely remember it when what it is pointing to is given you in the age to come. So don’t embrace the gifts as ends; send your heart flying to the Giver to embrace Jesus as the ultimate joy of your life - then the gifts won’t become idols.”</div>
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The goal and ground of my hope is Jesus Himself: the glory of God, shining in the face of Christ. He is my Gift. Do I really want Him as my treasure, more than I want anything else this Christmas? </div>
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I glue this verse onto the back of my calendar: “Unto you is born this day… a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11) <br />
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I glue the verse on upside down, since it will hang on the back of the calendar until December 25, when the last piece is put in place and we fold up the bottom of the calendar, now empty, to reveal the verse on the back. </div>
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I think about gifts, and idols, and the Giver, and Advent, the season of waiting for the coming of Christ, the upside-down King of an upside-down kingdom. </div>
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And I remember a quote from <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">Ann</a> I read earlier today:</div>
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“Thanksgiving is inherent to a true salvation experience: thanksgiving is necessary to live the well, whole, fullest life. ‘He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God’ (Psalm 50:23 NIV). <b>Thanksgiving--giving thanks in everything--prepares the way that God might show us his fullest sacrifice in Christ</b>.” </div>
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~Ann Voskamp,<i> </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-Gifts-Fully-Right/dp/0310321913/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322642200&sr=8-1"><i>One Thousand Gifts</i></a></div>
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Advent is about preparing the way. And how best to prepare the way? To rejoice. To give thanks, even for trials. To receive each element of each day, the good, the “bad” and the ugly, as a gift to be given thanks for. To sacrifice thank offerings. </div>
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Thanks is really the only gift I can give back to Jesus this Christmas, and in giving it daily, my heart will be prepared for seeing God’s showing of His salvation.</div>
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I tie red ribbon around the ends of my stick, like I’m wrapping a present, and stand back to look at my finished Advent Calendar: the scene it shows, God’s Gift to us entering the world, is only the beginning. <br />
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The Wise Men knew their gifts weren’t enough; they offered them, and then “they bowed low and worshiped.” </div>
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The coming of the Gift invites worship; and the giving of thanks returns worship unto the Giver. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Merry CHRISTmas!</span></i></h2>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-74925321224142147542014-11-17T06:00:00.000+13:002014-11-17T06:00:01.308+13:00Make Your Own Advent Calendar, Part 3<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;">
<i>{Only two weeks left until December 1st - how's your calendar coming along? There's still time to get started! Click here for Part 1 or Part 2 of this series...}</i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Making Your Own Advent Calendar: Part 3</span></i></b></h2>
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All your character pieces finished? Great! You're ready to make your title and decide on your final spacing.</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting Started…</span></b></h3>
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Gather your materials:</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make Your Title…</span></b></h3>
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1. Cut out your title letters. (I used red felt.) <i>Hint: Be sure to reverse your paper letter patterns when you trace them onto your felt; that way your black marker lines won't show when you turn them right side up to glue them on your background.</i></div>
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2. Glue your title letters onto your background, using craft glue or a hot glue gun.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Final Spacing…</span></b></h3>
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1. Double-check your final spacing by laying your finished felt pieces into your manger scene, arranging them the way you want them to look. Mark the bottom of the manger scene with a pen or scrap piece of felt. <br />
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2. Then move all the pieces one by one down to the bottom of your background, making sure they all fit. Leave enough space near each piece to write in each day's number. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MBJH8dVfmBI/VEjdNX7QpRI/AAAAAAAADUk/RktLCxFslP0/s1600/Advent16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MBJH8dVfmBI/VEjdNX7QpRI/AAAAAAAADUk/RktLCxFslP0/s1600/Advent16.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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3. Reassemble your pieces into the manger scene. Glue the bristly side of a velcro spot onto each piece, and the corresponding soft side onto the felt background, in the place where you want it to finally stick. (I used two velcro dots on the stable and the double angels.) </div>
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<i>{Hint: Make sure to glue the bristly side of the velcro onto your characters and the soft side onto the background, so when you roll or fold up the background to store it, it won't stick to itself. Plus, the bristly side of the velcro on the backs of the characters sticks onto the felt itself in the storage spots, so you don't need a second set of velcro backs.}</i></div>
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4. Number each velcro spot for the manger scene and the character storage places with black Sharpie marker. <i>(Black doesn’t show up that well on my dark green background, but I tried to make the numbers big enough for my preschoolers to find, and when the manger scene is completed it’s nice if the numbers sort of blend in or are covered up anyway.) </i>Where the character required two velcro spots, I either wrote the same number under both spots, or put the number in between the two spots.</div>
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Part 3 complete! Great job! You're almost done!</div>
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*****</div>
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<i>To read the next post in this series, click here… </i></div>
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<i>{For a copy of the Christmas story divided into 25 pieces, email me at </i><a href="mailto:carolyn@carolynbroughton.com"><i>carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</i></a><i>}</i></div>
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*****</div>
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<b><i>In the Comments:</i></b><br />
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<i>How are your calendars coming along? There’s still time to grab some felt and start cutting and gluing… </i></div>
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<i>Remember, your calendar can look any way you want it to, ornate or simple - the point is to have something Christ-centered to help your children anticipate Jesus’ birth and learn the Christmas story! </i></div>
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<i>Leave a comment with your progress… I’d love to see a photo of your calendar when it’s done!</i></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-50070720949332770352014-11-13T04:25:00.000+13:002014-11-13T04:25:00.226+13:00Freeze-Frame Listening {November thoughts on listening}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">{We leave this Friday night for a 2-month stay in New Zealand, catching up with family and friends after a 2-year absence... Here are my November thoughts on listening, amidst stress and challenges - trying to find the thread of His voice! </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the rest of my monthly thoughts on my One Word for 2014, LISTEN, <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html">click here</a>...} </span></i></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YGnXKYBqheM/VGIqOHgP6II/AAAAAAAADX4/YGz0F8As8Mo/s1600/OneWord2014-listenOct.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YGnXKYBqheM/VGIqOHgP6II/AAAAAAAADX4/YGz0F8As8Mo/s640/OneWord2014-listenOct.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 30px;">W</span>hat if we could just freeze the frame? What if, in the moment right <i>before</i> I explode in annoyance at my kid, I could freeze that frame of time and - make a different choice?</div>
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I’ve been doing a lot of editing recently - movie editing, that is. We’re getting ready for a home leave in New Zealand and before we go back we usually try and put together a video of current daily life here in Central Asia to show friends and family… It’s a long process, involving taking footage (and then <i>more</i> footage since the first lot is too wobbly, not high-res, etc, etc), converting all the clips into a format that works with Mac’s awesome iMovie editing program, picking and choosing the pithiest clips, and then… editing. And editing. And <i>more </i>editing. Squeezing each clip down to its essence, and then squeezing even more until just the barest bones are left - glimpses strung together to make a flowing window into our lives. </div>
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Not being ultra-techie, I feel my way along with these projects, and since I don’t use iMovie very often I always have to re-learn everything I learned <i>last</i> time I made a video. I pick up some new tricks each project, too; recently, I discovered the “freeze frame” option for the first time. Cool! You can right-click in the middle of a clip, choose “freeze frame” from the menu, and the program lifts out a frozen frame of that image and sets it apart separately in your timeline. You can leave it there in the middle of your video clip, a frozen moment, or you can lift it out and put it somewhere else. </div>
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I wish I could do that. I wish I could freeze-frame the moment just <i>before</i> I yell at my kids, pause everything mid-motion, stop my voice before it explodes out of my mouth, hesitate for a moment, and <i>think</i>. <b>Listen to the Holy Spirit</b>, in that frozen moment. Tune in. Calm my beating heart. Close my eyes and take a deep breath. </div>
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And <i>then</i> speak. Or act. Or whatever I need to do. But I guarantee, after a pause to take a step back, I would probably act differently almost every time. </div>
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Recently, in an attempt to get enculturated for our re-entrance back into Western society, we finally watched the Disney hit “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frozen_(2013_film)">Frozen</a>” as a family. We liked it; it’s cute, funny, not scary, and profound in a simple but true way… </div>
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<i>{SPOILER ALERT: if any of you, like us, have also been on another planet and have NOT have watched “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frozen_(2013_film)">Frozen</a>” yet, skip the next paragraph…}</i> </div>
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Our sensitive Will was nearly in tears at the end, when the younger sister Anna, with her last un-frozen breath, steps in front of her older sister to save her from a crossbow arrow, and in the very act her frozen heart finally transforms her completely to ice. Each of Princess Anna’s fingernails and eyelashes freeze solid into an exquisitely detailed blue-ice statue. The very moment she saves her sister is literally frozen in time. </div>
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I wish I had a magic wand so I could freeze a moment with a flick of my wrist - just make everything hang stock-still in mid-air, like a movie Pause button, or a crystallized ice-Princess. </div>
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I don’t have a wand. I just have my imagination. But I’m learning I <i>can</i> actually imagine pausing my heart / words / thoughts long enough <b>to listen to the Holy Spirit’s quiet whisper in that moment</b>. </div>
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You know, I’ve realized lately that even though I do think of Jesus always being with us, for some reason I usually picture Him as across the room from me: present, but not within reach. Recently, during a prayer time with a friend, Jesus showed me that He is actually right. next. to. me. Close enough to whisper in my ear. Close enough so that even His whisper sounds louder than the world’s hubbub around me. <b>That’s how close He is, <i>all the time</i>. </b>Every minute. Washing dishes, changing a diaper, hosting a friend for tea, breaking up a boys’ fight, walking down the street, talking to my husband, laying down for a nap… <b>Jesus is as close as my breath. </b></div>
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<b>So, if I can freeze the frame, and remember His nearness, I can focus on listening for His quiet voice. </b></div>
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And that might make all the difference.</div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-27602818203979070862014-11-10T06:00:00.000+13:002014-11-11T05:07:13.931+13:00Make Your Own Advent Calendar, Part 2<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;">
<i>{Preparing to celebrated Advent with your family? Why not </i><b><i>make your own family Advent Calendar</i></b><i> to use year after year? </i></div>
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<i>For part 1 of this series, <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/11/make-your-own-advent-calendar-part-1.html" target="_blank">click here</a>...} </i></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zk8bZudNbs/VEjblOKYnpI/AAAAAAAADTU/-7uSSkUbhqw/s1600/Advent23boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zk8bZudNbs/VEjblOKYnpI/AAAAAAAADTU/-7uSSkUbhqw/s1600/Advent23boys.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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I love this story from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasuring-God-Traditions-euml-Piper/dp/1581348339/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320315273&sr=1-1"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(1, 26, 153); color: #011a99;">Noël Piper</span></a> about their family Advent Calendar:</div>
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“Mommy, Mommy! May I open the next window on the calendar?” A simple pasteboard Advent calendar with one flap to open on each day in December is probably the most familiar way to help a child understand the wait until Christmas. In the stores several themes are likely to be available, including Swiss mountain villages and Santa’s workshops. But since the Advent -- the coming -- we’re waiting for is Christ’s, let’s make sure our daily countdown has a real Christmas setting.</div>
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“For our family a more permanent calendar has become a tradition. When our first child was a toddler, I could find hardly any Christmas things that had to do with Jesus. So I created the Noël Calendar, a burlap banner with plastic and wood figures that by December 25 have been attached with Velcro across the top half of the banner to represent the Christmas story. Throughout the month, that story is told in increments, starting over at the beginning and adding a bit more each day. </div>
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“The first year we used the calendar, I learned an important lesson: Repetition is an excellent way for a child to memorize. In mid-December, when Karsten was barely two, my mother-in-law died in a bus crash in Israel. With little time to plan, we were on our way from Minnesota to South Carolina to take care of my father-in-law, who had been injured. On an impulse I had tossed the calendar into a suitcase. In the midst of so much confusion, shock and irregularity, Karsten forgot everything he’d learned about potty training and too much of what he knew about behaving. But even though he could hardly make a whole sentence on his own yet, he could pick up the Christmas story at any point and keep it going, word for word, as he’d heard it day after day when we did the calendar. </div>
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“...This period in Karsten’s life was the time when I began to realize the place of [repetition and regularity] in my life with my children -- repeating regularly the story that for centuries God’s people had longed to know. </div>
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-Noel Piper,<i> </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasuring-God-Traditions-euml-Piper/dp/1581348339/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320315273&sr=1-1"><i>Treasuring God in Our Traditions</i></a> (emphasis added)</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make Your Own Advent Calendar: Part 2</span></i></b></h2>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting Started…</span></b></h3>
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1. Gather your materials:</div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></span>printed out paper patterns for felt shapes</li>
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2. Safety-pin enough allowance at the top of your background piece so you can put a dowel through it later to hang it up.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdJXm6xS6Y0/VEjb0NM9YII/AAAAAAAADTk/1LHNVtN0hSY/s1600/Advent5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdJXm6xS6Y0/VEjb0NM9YII/AAAAAAAADTk/1LHNVtN0hSY/s1600/Advent5.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check Spacing…</span></b></h3>
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Check to make sure you have room on your background for everything you want to include: </div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></span>the finished manger scene underneath</li>
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1. Lay out your paper letters for the title “The Christmas Story” at the top of your background piece. </div>
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2. Under the title, lay out your paper patterns for your manger scene, the way you want it to finally appear on Day 25. Place a pencil or pen horizontally on your background to mark the bottom of the scene. </div>
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3. Next, shift all your pieces down to the lower half of your background (under the pencil) and lay them out in rows, ordering them from #1-25. At this stage you're checking spacing and proportions to make sure all your characters fit.</div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Start Making Pieces…</span></b></h3>
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Now you're ready to start making pieces! </div>
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1. First, if you haven't done this already, make a list of your 25 pieces and write down the colors of felt you want to use for the parts of each one. </div>
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2. Then, start with any piece you like. I started at the beginning, with Mary, and worked my way down the list.</div>
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<i>The patterns I found online seemed a bit plump, so I cut them down a little and traced around Mary’s body, head, and head-covering on colored pieces of felt. Then I glued them together with generous dots of craft glue. (A hot glue gun would work better, but I didn't have one of those.)</i><br />
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3. I went on to make Joseph, adapting <a href="http://wstandlea.wordpress.com/2011/02/06/nativity-calendar-photos-patterns-instructions/">my friend’s patterns</a> to suit what I wanted.<br />
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4. Bethlehem came next: a long rectangle of gray felt behind with a brown square on top, with yellow lighted windows and doors. <br />
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5. For the animals, I used <a href="http://wstandlea.wordpress.com/2011/02/06/nativity-calendar-photos-patterns-instructions/"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(1, 26, 153); color: #011a99;">my friend’s designs</span></a> for almost all of them. The only animal I had to draw myself was the camel, and I must admit I'm pretty proud of him!</div>
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I used craft glue to attach a small square of velcro on the back of each character. <i>{PS: After four years of use, the glue still seems fine overall - only an occasional re-glue needed.}</i></div>
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It took me a couple crafting sessions to finish all my pieces… This is the only time-consuming part - the rest is easy!</div>
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All your pieces finished? Congratulations! You've finished the hardest part! Keep going! </div>
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<i>To read the next post in this series, click here… </i></div>
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<i>{For a copy of the Christmas story divided into 25 pieces, email me at </i><a href="mailto:carolyn@carolynbroughton.com"><i>carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</i></a><i>}</i></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-11390415639285727992014-11-03T06:00:00.000+13:002014-11-11T05:06:38.302+13:00Make Your Own Advent Calendar, Part 1<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;">
<i>{This November, I’ll be reposting my popular series, </i><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Make Your Own Advent Calendar.</i></b><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </i><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Want to make a calendar for your family this year? Keep reading to find out how...}</i></div>
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Ever since I came across the idea in Noel Piper's book<b><i> </i></b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasuring-God-Traditions-euml-Piper/dp/1581348339/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320315273&sr=1-1"><b><i>Treasuring God in Our Traditions</i></b></a>, I wanted to make one. </div>
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In her wonderful book, Noël expounds on and gives practical examples of the Piper family belief in creating “God-centered traditions, Bible-saturated family patterns, and grace-laden heirlooms”. </div>
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I couldn’t agree more. </div>
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Here’s how Noël describes the season of Advent: </div>
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“Advent is what we call the season leading up to Christmas. It begins four Sundays before December 25, sometimes in the last weekend of November, sometimes on the first Sunday in December…. </div>
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“For four weeks, it’s as if we’re reenacting, remembering the thousands of years during which God’s people were anticipating and longing for the coming of God’s salvation, for Jesus. </div>
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“That’s what advent means-- “coming”. Even God’s men who foretold the grace that was to come didn’t know “what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating” (v.11). They were waiting, but they didn’t know what God’s salvation would look like… </div>
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“We Christians on this side of Jesus’ birth are a God-blessed, happy people because we know God’s plan. The centuries of waiting are over. <b>We have the greatest reason to celebrate.</b></div>
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“And yet we are still waiting. Our spiritual redemption came to us with the baby of Bethlehem. Nevertheless, as Romans 8 says, “we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (v.23). There is suffering and tragedy still, even for Christians. Someone we love is dying. We may be in pain. Sometimes we have trouble believing God’s promises. In other words, <b>our redemption is not complete.</b> We are waiting for the redemption of our bodies--waiting for Jesus’ second advent, for him to come again.</div>
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“So here we stand in the middle. <b>Advent is a season of looking back</b>, thinking how it must have been, waiting for the promised salvation of God, not knowing what to expect. And <b>at the same time, Advent is a season of looking ahead</b>, preparing ourselves to meet Jesus at his Second Coming.” </div>
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~Noel Piper,<i> </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasuring-God-Traditions-euml-Piper/dp/1581348339/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320315273&sr=1-1"><i>Treasuring God in Our Traditions</i></a> (emphasis added)</div>
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A family Advent calendar is one way Noël's family keeps Christmas Christ-centered. When my oldest child was 2, I made a calendar for our family, and it's the part of "getting ready for Christmas" our three kids are already looking forward to. Our calendar hangs on a prominent wall in our house during the month of December, and is something personalized and unique to our family that we will cherish for years to come. The best part is - it's PORTABLE! Perfect for our sojourning lifestyle. <i>(This year we will be using it in New Zealand, as we visit my husband's family for Christmas.)</i></div>
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When I was getting ready to make my own calendar, I initially contacted<b> </b><a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/">Desiring<b> God</b></a> to see if they were still selling them (why reinvent the wheel?), but… alas, they’re not making them anymore. </div>
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So, back to square one: making it myself. I googled Noël’s calendar and found several sites with pictures, and also came across<b> </b><a href="http://heartfelttruths.wordpress.com/advent-calendar/">another creative mother</a> who’s made one for her family and freely offers felt patterns and even DIY kits on <a href="http://heartfelttruths.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">her site</a>. <i>(When I made my calendar 5 years ago her kits weren’t available, and I wanted to make a few changes to our own calendar anyway. I’m really happy with how ours turned out.)</i></div>
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Why couldn't this be the November you make an Advent Calendar for your own family? Just follow my easy, step-by-step instructions in this series to create a beautiful, unique Advent Calendar your family will enjoy year after year.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make Your Own Advent Calendar: Part 1</span></i></b></h2>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting Started…</span></b></h3>
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1. Map out your Calendar on paper first. Figure out the basic proportions of your finished manger scene compared to the storage section for the pieces. </div>
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<i>On our calendar, I put the title at the top, with space for the completed 25-piece manger scene underneath (the kids will place one piece each day). At the bottom I left enough space to store all the pieces in rows. Feel free to arrange your calendar any way you want to.</i><br />
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2. Next, print out the<a href="http://heartfelttruths.wordpress.com/advent-calendar/"> paper patterns</a> and cut out enough pieces to see how they will fit on your background. My initial end result looked a little crowded; in the end I cut my actual felt characters down a little smaller. <br />
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3. If you like, go ahead and make an initial list of the characters and the colors of felt you want to use for each one. This will save time later and also give you an idea of how much of each felt color you will need.</div>
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4. Google “alphabet block pattern” and choose a simple style of lettering you like. Print it out, and cut out paper patterns for the letters in the title: “The Christmas Story” to make sure all the letters will fit across your felt background piece.</div>
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Part 1 complete! Great job! </div>
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See you next week...</i></div>
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To read the next post in this series, <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/11/make-your-own-advent-calendar-part-1.html" target="_blank">click here</a>… </div>
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<i>{For a copy of the Christmas story divided into 25 pieces, email me at </i><a href="mailto:carolyn@carolynbroughton.com"><b><i>carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</i></b></a><i>}</i></div>
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<b><i>In the Comments:</i></b></div>
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<i>How are you planning to celebrate the season of Advent as a family? </i></div>
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<i>Leave a comment with a description of an Advent memory, an idea for an Advent tradition, or an insight into the meaning of Advent. I’d love for this post to become a collection of creative ideas for celebrating the season of Advent with your children! </i></div>
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<i>Let’s have fun together coming up with creative ways to keep Christ at the center of Christmas!</i></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-54496651552713370802014-10-26T06:00:00.000+13:002014-10-27T04:30:32.614+13:00Happy Birthday, Ben! You're FIVE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">D</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">ear Ben,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love you SO MUCH!!! You drive me <i>nuts</i> some of the time, but you are always ready to come back with a kiss and a cuddle, and snuggle in to be forgiven. And <i>I </i>have to ask <i>you </i>to forgive me a lot too, for yelling and getting impatient, and you always say, “I forgive you, Mama,” and cuddle in close.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have been <i>so proud</i> of you this year, Ben. It’s not easy being a younger brother, and you have persevered in learning to play well with Will and expressing in words when you’re feeling frustrated and left out, instead of hitting or lashing out. Your words will be the thing that saves you, if you learn to use them well.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When Will started school last month, I saw you blossom at home. You started being more responsible to get dressed and make your bed in the mornings without being asked; you are playing well with Ruby and helping her kindly; and you are happily sitting up at the table with me for school-time and working so hard at your letters and numbers. <i>Way to go, Ben!</i> You are even starting to learn to read with our 100 Lessons book, and as long as I can keep you moving and hopping, you concentrate and finish the lesson. Woohoo!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You <i>love </i>to move: basketball, soccer, rugby, cricket, tag, climbing trees, running, jumping, somersaults, gymnastic tricks, tricks on the swing, the ropes, the play-hut… you are a blur of motion! And you are strong and coordinated and brave to push yourself to try new things. It’s awesome to watch!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then, every afternoon, my favorite time of day with you is when we cuddle up together in your bed and I read you stories. You have an insatiable appetite for stories, and you absorb them like a thumb-sucking sponge. The rest of the day I hear you weaving your own stories with your brother and sister, or by yourself, out of all the bits and pieces you remember. It’s amazing what you remember, and your imagination is <i>beautiful </i>to watch and listen to. Never stop telling and acting out and reading and writing and <i>living </i>stories, Ben. It’s what you were made to do. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You are the perfect guy to be right in the middle of our family. You help Will to imagine fun games, and you are compassionate and expressive towards Ruby. She really looks up to you - she copies <i>everything </i>you do and say, including your attitudes… So we really need to keep working on your bad habit of sulking and pouting when you don’t get your way, huh? Because now <i>Ruby’s</i> starting to do it, too. Uh-oh, right?</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But we know Jesus is living in your heart, we know you trusted Him as your Savior and Lord when you were 3, and every day we see Him rescuing you from your sin and filling you up with the fruit of His Spirit - love, gentleness, kindness, self-control. You have his JOY in full measure - it bubbles out of you and makes the rest of us so happy! You are a bright spot in our family and on our street, and you will be a shining light for Jesus in this dark world, Ben.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love you SOOOOOOOO much! Mm-MMM! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Happy Birthday to our big, cuddly, 5-year-old </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ben-boy!</span><br />
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-22686095634090845782014-10-21T06:00:00.000+13:002014-10-22T00:00:35.919+13:00when listening really counts {October Lessons in Listening}<i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">{M</span></span></i><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">y <a href="http://oneword365.com/" target="_blank">One Word for 2014</a></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> is "</span><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" style="letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">listen</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">". I'm posting every </span>month<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> with a new lesson or thought - you c</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">an read <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">the rest of my thoughts on listening here</a>.}</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: 30px;">T</span>he Skype call sound rings from my laptop. Familiar, friendly voices float out of my speaker, women who are also wives and moms living overseas like me. We have a good, challenging conversation. There is give and take. I ask as many questions as I answer. I share thoughtful and sometimes even humorous anecdotes, but I'm careful not to go on too long. I try not to interrupt, to let whoever’s talking have their whole say. I try to convey my point of view in a sensitive way, especially if it differs from the others’. I <i>listen</i>. Intentionally. Deeply. Attentively. Inside I feel calm, aware, settled. </div>
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While we’re chatting I think to myself,<i>This is a far cry from how I would have felt and acted in a similar situation nine months ago, before I started <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">this experiment in listening</a></i>… <i>I would’ve pushed my own agenda, felt an overwhelming urge to talk about myself, felt awkward during any silence, uncomfortable leaving space for others to think and respond… </i></div>
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After the call, I feel gratified. Satisfied. Encouraged. <i>I’m growing! I’m really learning this listening thing! </i></div>
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A little while later, it’s lunchtime. My husband comes home from work. He tries to tell me about his morning; I’m distracted, getting the kids fed. He attempts to relay a telephone conversation he’s had; I “mm-hmm” without really paying attention. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">After the kids run off to play and we linger over our usual mid-day cups of tea, he starts expressing some pieces of the stress he’s currently feeling; I’m checking Facebook on my phone, mind elsewhere, not paying attention.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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Finally, my usually mild-mannered hubby lets me have it. “Boy, for someone who talks a lot and wants to be listened to, and gets mad if I even <i>start</i> moving away during a conversation, you sure don’t listen very well! And I’m supposed to be the one who doesn’t talk very much!”</div>
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<b><i>Ouch. </i></b></div>
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I looked up with shocked face. My phone went face down on the table. Believe me, I started listening.</div>
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But it was too late. The moment had passed. Lunchtime over, my best friend went back to work, feeling unheard, alone, and probably unloved. I had failed to listen, and I rued it the rest of the day.</div>
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This month I have learned another valuable lesson. While the things I’m learning about listening might be penetrating my outer “public” layer, I still have a long way to go to allow these changes to reach my inner “home” layer - the arena where change really counts. If the most important relationship in my life doesn’t feel listened to, if I can’t enter his world with real attention and interest, see life from his perspective, what - really - is all this “learning to listen” about? </div>
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This is where the rubber meets the road. <b>Will I, can I, learn to listen to the most familiar voices in my life with fresh ears, fresh attention, fresh love? </b>Or will these lessons in listening remain just an external shift in how I present myself in a group, a needed self-restraint from a temptation to monologue, a healthy exercise in compassion?</div>
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It’s crunch time. Stay tuned. I’ll let you know how it turns out.</div>
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<br />Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-28644615558664506902014-10-15T03:29:00.000+13:002014-10-15T03:29:00.331+13:00Happy 2nd Birthday, Ruby Grace!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">H</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">appy, happy Birthday to my sweet, sweetie-pie! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When you were in my tummy, I SO hoped you would be a girl. I thought it would be fun to have a daughter after two sons, but I didn’t know it would be THIS much fun! I love every single thing about you: the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, your chubby kissable cheeks, your sweet little voice, your infectious giggle, your spunkiness, your tender-heartedness that wants to kiss and cuddle anyone who’s hurt or crying, your eagerness to help me with <i>anything </i>I’m doing… “Doing, Mama? Doing? Hep me?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It warms my heart every time you push a chair up to the counter to “help” wash the dishes, or stir batter, or poke your fingers into bread dough. You like to hand me the wet clothes from the basket while I’m hanging them up, and take the dry ones from me to put in the basket. “Hep me, Mama, yaundry.” You help me straighten the blankets on my bed, too, and “Tie up!” (tidy up) your room and your toys. You are SO much more interested in all of this than the boys ever were! It’s wonderful! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Your latest new thing is your “BCB’s”. Ben has started learning to write his alphabet letters, and you demand to sit right beside him and do your “BCB book” too. You make tiny little “O’s” all over the paper and say, “Yook, Mommy! BCB’s!” One morning I was journaling in bed and you woke up early so Daddy brought you in to cuddle in our bed. As soon as you saw me writing, you started asking, “Doing, Mama? Witing? Me, Mama? BCB’s too?” When I wouldn’t give you a turn with my pen, you started kissing my glasses, over and over… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You’re Daddy’s girl, that’s for sure. Whenever you sit still long enough to let me do your hair, after I’m done you pop up saying, “Dad-dy? Dad-dy? Yook, Dad-dy!” and run to wherever he is. You preen and twirl and he always tells you how beautiful you look - it seems to matter so much more what he thinks than what I think, and that is just fine by me! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I <i>love</i> how you like to play tea party with me (just like I hoped!). We make your bed into a “house” by putting your blanket over the top, and we crawl in there together and set up your doll and teddy bear. You are a great little hostess, offering “moah tea?”, pouring out tea for both of us, asking if I want “muk?” and “shoogah?” and then stirring something up and saying, “Cake?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love how you cuddle your dolls and stuffed animals and put them to bed and kiss their owies. But you also love playing “Tahguh Tickuw” (Tiger Tickle) with your brothers, and playing with their cars, trains, LEGOS, and anything else you can get your hands on! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">You really have a compassionate spirit. When we took care of our various pets this year, you were the one who always remembered it was time to feed them in the mornings, and made sure they had blankets so they </span>didn't<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> get cold. You </span>smothered<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> them with cuddles, and were so gentle. Maybe </span>you'll<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> be a nurse or a doctor or veterinarian - or mommy - one day...</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You ask for your favorite songs every single naptime and bedtime - “Happy Cap Cap” (If You’re Happy and You Know It) and “Joy Joy Joy” (Down in My Heart). You do all the motions and say all the words in the right places and grin at me the whole time. It’s completely adorable.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You’re starting to pray at mealtimes: “Deah Jee-judge.. (moment of silence)… ey - MEN!” and at bedtime you’re starting to listen to stories about Him. You’re beginning to learn how wonderful He is, and I can’t wait to teach you about Him and watch you come to know Him for yourself. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You’re great at interacting with our local friends here - you say “Ashalom” (<i>Assalam Aleykum</i>) to my helper when she arrives, with a little inclination of your head and your hand over your heart. She just melts! All our neighbors love you and call you “Rubeeshka”, the Russian affectionate nickname, whenever we go out for a walk. And you regularly ask about our best friends down the street by name: “Noda come howoos?” (come to our house) She came to your birthday lunch and you were so thrilled to share your “Cake” with her. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You have so many words now. I <i>loved </i>how you talked over your birthday tonight before you went to sleep. “Wooby birfday? New trike? Cake? Boys? B’lloon? Gamma Skype? Noda came? Cake?” This morning I softly came into your room singing a quiet “Happy Birthday to you…” You were lying down on your blanket, but when you saw me you quickly sat bolt upright and said, “Cake?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As you approached this birthday, you started saying “Shelf! Shelf!” (self) all the time. You <i>really </i>want to try things on your own: putting on tights (how’d that work out for ya?), reaching for your toothbrush, cutting your own pancake, putting away your stack of clean clothes. (Yeah, just shove ‘em in there!) You are so independent and already quite competent for such a little person - a force to be reckoned with! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yes, you are your mother’s daughter - verbal, stubborn, endearing, relational, affectionate, possessive, lovable, independent, spunky, cuddly, obstinate, winsome. We love every minute with you, our precious little jewel,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ruby Grace</span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-29876090518630251522014-10-07T06:00:00.000+13:002014-10-21T23:57:39.327+13:00wholly listening and holy listening {August thoughts on listening, Part 2}<i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">{I'm focusing on the word "<a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">listen</a>" as my <a href="http://oneword365.com/" target="_blank">One Word for 2014</a>. This is Part 2 of my August thoughts on </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">listening... You can read <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-four-opposites-of-true-listening.html" target="_blank">Part 1 here</a>, and <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">the rest of my thoughts on listening here</a>.}</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">S</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">o, as you already know, I’m a mother. Every day. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And if you’ve been reading along in this series of posts, you’ll know I’m discovering afresh that </span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">a mother is also a mentor.</b><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Every day.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Each one of us, whether we realize it or not, is a mentor. We each have people in our lives who are looking up to us, whether we’re aware of it or not. If you have an online presence, you are almost definitely a mentor to someone, or many someones. If you are a parent, well, it's obvious who your little </span>mentorees<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> are. If you’re a part of a church family, no matter how young you are there are people younger than you who are following your example. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So. This is big stuff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Yesterday at nap time I snuggled down to continue</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> this book on </span></span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411833448&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">Spiritual Mentoring</a> </i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I'm reading </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">for a leadership course I’m doing through our organization, and I stumbled upon yet <i>another</i> eye-opening list. Are you ready? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;">This one's titled “The Three Essential Functions” of the mentor. They jumped off the page at me:</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Holy Listening</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Holy Seeing</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and <b><i>Wholly Listening</i></b>.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Not kidding. I read those words, and I literally laughed out loud. (Just in case I was still wondering why God had me pick “<a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">listen</a>” as my word for 2014 - no further doubt!) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Curious to know what the authors mean by those phrases? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So was I. They define <b><i>holy listening</i></b> as “giving attention, developing companionship, enjoying friendship, traveling the road together with the mentoree aware of the Holy Spirit in all places.” In other words, listening to life “on the way”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Holy seeing</i></b> is “observing the other with love, compassion, genuine care, concern and interest in the development of the mentoree.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Wholly listening</i></b> is “being fully and authentically present to the spiritual seeker and the Holy Spirit, daring the courage of a vulnerability that appropriately self-discloses to the mentor, <b>a vulnerability in which all of me listens to all of you.”</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Did you catch that whammy of a last line? “Daring the courage of a vulnerability that appropriately self-discloses…a vulnerability in which <b><i>all of me listens to all of you.” </i></b><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Wow. Talk about a lesson in listening.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I don't know about you, but I'm not seeing much of the Messiah or Problem-Solver cropping up in these definitions, are you? No active verbs like “wisdom-dispensing” or “problem-solving” or “rescuing” - all the things I like to think I’m good at and enjoy doing. (After all, who doesn’t like feeling like a Super-Hero, even if it’s an illusion?) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>The verbs in that list are gentle: Observe. Be present. Be vulnerable. </b> Even “appropriate self-disclosure”, the most active verb in the list, requires being vulnerable, which brings us back to <i>being</i>, not doing. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The authors say that when someone is able to listen <i>wholly</i>, with all of themselves attuning to all of the other person, <i>holy</i> listening occurs. In other words, <b>in that moment, we see God together. </b>We glimpse Him, together, in the stories, moments, themes and patterns of our friend’s life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Listening is a holy practice in which people wholly attend to one another, and in the process discover the whole presence of God in that very moment. In connecting with God, we become more whole ourselves, and more in tune with our lives and the purposes God has for us.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the film <a href="http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/waking-life/" target="_blank"><i>Waking Life </i>by Richard Linklater</a>, there is a scene in which two artists, filmmaker Caveh Zahedi and poet David Jewell, discuss the idea of a “holy moment”. <a href="http://wakinglifemovie.net/" target="_blank">Zahedi is talking about</a> the fact that we usually walk around as if some moments are holy and other moments are not holy, and the medium of film is able to frame ordinary moments in a way that lets us <i>see</i> the holiness of each and every moment. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="http://wakinglifemovie.net/" target="_blank">Zahedi says</a>, “And it’s like "Holy, holy, holy" moment by moment. But, like, who can live that way? Who can go, like, ‘Wow, holy’? Because if I were to look at you and just really let you be holy, I don't know, I would, like, stop talking.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Well, you'd be in the moment. I mean ….” says David Jewell.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Yeah.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Yeah, but I'd be open,” says Zahedi. “And then I'd look in your eyes, and I'd cry, and I'd like feel all this stuff and that's like not polite. I mean it would make you feel uncomfortable.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Well you could laugh too. I mean, why would you cry?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Well, 'cause ... I don't know. For me, I tend to cry.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Uh-huh. Well ..."</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Well, let's do it right now. Let's have a holy moment.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">They pause in the middle of their conversation and look at each other for a long moment, allowing the moment to fill up with presence, each allowing the wholeness of himself to be fully present to the other person’s self. And both of their eyes - ours too, watching - fill up with tears. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Finally, as if the holiness has to be broken with words lest it become unbearable, Jewell remarks, “Everything is layers, isn't it?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Yeah,” agrees Zahedi.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I mean, there's the holy moment and then there's the awareness of trying to have the holy moment, in the same way that the film is the actual moment really happening, but then the character pretending to be in a different reality. And it's all these layers. And, uh, I was in and out of the holy moment looking at you. Can't be in a holy ... You're unique that way, Caveh. That's one of the reasons I enjoy you. You can ... bring me into that.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The “that” David Jewell is trying to describe is the awareness of holiness which emerges when two people wholly attend to one another. <b>God is always here. It’s when we pay attention that we finally see Him.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When I am conversing with another human being, made in the image of God, are my shoes off? Am I wholly listening, so that I can practice holy listening?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What about when my kids want to talk to me? Do I fully enter into their reality, slowing down, bending my knees to reach eye-level, putting an arm around their small shoulders, turning to look at life with them from their perspective? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Am I attending to the lives around me with every atom of myself? </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Rather than being exhausting, this kind of focused awareness is centering. Freeing. <b>Living in the moment is restful, not frantic. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Why?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because <i>God </i>is in the moment, with you. With us. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God is <i>here</i>. <i>Now. </i></span></div>
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Take a deep breath, and breathe Him in. </div>
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Now, <b><i>listen</i></b>... </div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-66899782279420811032014-10-01T06:00:00.000+13:002014-10-01T06:00:01.806+13:00the four opposites of true listening {August thoughts on listening, Part 1}<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>{This year I'm focusing on <a href="http://oneword365.com/" target="_blank">one word</a>: <b><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">listen</a></b>. My next two posts, August thoughts on listening Parts 1 & 2, were inspired by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411833448&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">a fantastic book</a> I recently read and reviewed. <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">To read the rest of my posts on listening, click here</a>...}</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/08/of-flying-machines-and-grace-filled.html" target="_blank">I</a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/08/of-flying-machines-and-grace-filled.html" target="_blank">n a recent post</a> I described my latest epiphany from this great book I’m reading on <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411833448&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">Spiritual Mentoring</a>. </i>My epiphany was - ready for it? - that <b>spiritual mentoring applies to mothering as well.</b> (Big surprise, right?) And that I already have three little mentorees running around whose souls I’ve been called to build! Yikes! So I'm on board with everything I can learn about this thing called mentoring, especially as it connects with my word for 2014: listen.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The more deeply I travel into <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411833448&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">this book</a> the more things are hitting home. This week, a friend’s comment about weaknesses coincided with a quote I had just read about how we approach relationships. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In her email, my friend said she was finding that “allowing God to uncover her weaknesses led to peace and freedom in her life.” Being honest about her own short-comings, not just to herself but in front of other people, is freeing her to not be perfect. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve said it before: I like looking like I have my act together. Vulnerability, showing my weaknesses, does not come easily or naturally to me. I want peace and freedom just as much as the next person, but to get to that place by showing you my messy? Just doesn’t appeal to me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here’s a list from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411833448&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">Spiritual Mentoring</a> </i>of four things a mentor should <i>not </i>be. As I read down the list for the first time, my eyes grew wide, because I realized uncomfortably that every one of these things has at some point been a hidden motivation for me: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Four Major Pitfalls for the Spiritual Mentor to Avoid</b></span></h2>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>The Messiah Complex</b>: I believe I am to rescue you or deliver you from the struggles and pain of your life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>The Problem-Solver Mentality</b>: I believe my role is to tell you what the right answers are or to offer a way out for you.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>The Assembly-Line Syndrome</b>: I believe my role is to shape you into a predetermined form or product.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>The Wisdom Dispenser Approach</b>: I believe I must dispense wisdom-on-demand every time I [talk with you], because I am a fountain of wisdom and truth.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The authors go on to say that “when a mentor becomes messiah, problem-solver, assembly-line worker or wisdom-dispenser, the opportunity for spiritual formation can become limited. A mentor is none of these four, though problem solving, wisdom and answers may be part of the unfolding process. <b>Discernment is the pearl of great price for the mentor. Attaining discernment requires vulnerability, humility and an ear open to <i>listen</i> to the voice of God’s spirit.”</b> (<i>Spiritual Mentoring</i>, Anderson/Reese, emphasis added)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Did you catch that? <b>Discernment </b>is the pearl of great price in mature relationships, and attaining it requires<b> <i>vulnerability</i> </b>and<b> <i>humility</i>, </b>and<b> an ear open to <i>listen. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Hmmm… <i>listen</i>. My word for this year. Coincidence? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There is a crucial connection between my friend’s email and this quote in the book. Did you catch it? My friend described her road to peace and freedom through allowing God to uncover her weaknesses. <b><i>None</i> of those four mis-guided roles or motivations in relationships contain either vulnerability or humility. </b>The Messiah wants to save out of her own strength; the Problem-Solver wants to have all the answers; the Assembly-Line Supervisor thinks she already knows the plan; and the Wisdom-Dispenser wants everyone to think she’s incredibly wise and has her act together all the time. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m realizing that, to my shame, I have often been happy to wear one of those misguided hats in a relationship <i>rather </i>than seek the humility and embrace the vulnerability necessary to discover true discernment - which is, ultimately, the only thing my friend really needs from me. <b>She needs me to <i>listen </i>to her, to <i>enter in </i>to her situation, and to <i>hear from God </i>with her and for her in order to find out what He wants her to do</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t have to be God. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I just have to listen to God, and listen to my friend. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s it. <i>That’s</i> the way to peace, and freedom.</span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-26249534285645860452014-09-24T06:00:00.000+12:002014-09-24T06:00:01.277+12:00Shep Update {guest post from my 6-year-old}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">{For those of you wondering about the status of <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-stray-dog-and-moral-dilemma.html" target="_blank">the stray dog</a> <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/05/ok-you-can-all-breathe-sigh-of-relief.html" target="_blank">we rescued in the spring</a>, here is a guest post from my son's journal today. Unedited, used by permission :) }</i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Yesterday I met my dog called Shep and it was really fun. We went to my dad’s orchard and we saw my dog Shep, and I played with her a lot and there was a puppy there too. Sometimes they like to wrestle around with each other. Shep always growls in her throat under her breath when they do that, just like Jack in </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-House-Prairie-No/dp/0064400026/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1411370603&sr=8-4&keywords=little+house+on+the+prairie" target="_blank">The Little House on the Prairie</a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">. Shep doesn’t live at our house anymore because she was too wild. I miss her, too, just like my brother misses her. </span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-82409008930988489892014-09-21T20:28:00.000+12:002016-08-25T21:24:33.229+12:00“the dearest freshness deep down things” {September thoughts on listening}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">{Stay tuned for a back post of August's thoughts on my One Word for 2014: listen. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now for a few thoughts from September...}</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">T</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">here is a deep quietness slowly growing in me. I feel like a field with a spring of water which has been clogged for years. The leaves and bracken are slowly being cleared away, handful by handful, and the spring is beginning to well up with clear, fresh water. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“There lives the dearest freshness deep down things”…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.bartleby.com/122/7.html" target="_blank">-Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur"</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>I am seeing more. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It feels like entering the cool dimness of a great cathedral from a bright summer afternoon. Slowly, gradually, as my eyes adjust, I am able to take in more and more details of the beautiful interior.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>There is so much more to see than I have been aware.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The more my spirit sinks roots down into this quietness, the deeper I want to sink. It is unspeakably refreshing. To sit for a few minutes noticing the color of sky, the sound of birds, the curve of my daughter’s cheek. To reach out to these things with my spirit and know them to be windows, passageways into God’s presence. To sense Him here with me, close as breath. This new seeing is a freshly discovered green pasture for my soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">It’s this new awareness that causes my soul to well up in thankfulness. I’ve realized, after trying lists and other tools to grow a thankful heart, that</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><b style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I can’t cultivate thankfulness until I first cultivate seeing and listening. </b><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/LifeCodeMatrix/info" target="_blank">Awakening my senses,</a> remembering I have them, using them to deeply pay attention… Now I can</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">see</i><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">what I have to be thankful for. </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>The seeing itself begets thankfulness without effort.</b> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I see, and I become deeply grateful. I hear my daughter’s sweet lips smacking sour grapes with two-year-old delicacy and I am flooded with awareness of her sweetness, and then gratitude that I am aware. I catch her eye and grin, electricity flashes between us, and my awareness of <i>relationship</i> increases my pleasure in her, and my gratitude grows. She grins back, blue eyes sparkling, round cheeks pushing up in folds under her eyes, golden bangs brushing her eyebrows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I still pick a lot of blackberries. Today is Sunday, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411287468&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God" target="_blank">a day in which I've started </a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411287468&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God" target="_blank">practicing rest and contemplation</a>, and my senses are heightened today while I write this post, which is why I’m aware of the well of freshness springing up enough to write about it. But when I’m the thick of the week and the moments fly past too quick to grab and I’m changing poopy diapers, making lunch and dinner, welcoming unexpected visitors, and handling requests, phone calls and emails, blackberry picking seems all I can manage. </span></span><b style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">It takes a tremendous effort of will (and a well-rested body) to remember to <i>see, </i>and take off my shoes for the holiness of it all. </b><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You know, I’ve spent 30 years running and striving, habitually moving too fast to notice holiness. So I have to keep reminding myself, <i>You’ve only just begun. </i>I’ve only just started these <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411287468&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God" target="_blank">practices of Sabbath rest</a> and deep, attentive listening. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As I live into the next 30 years of my life and beyond, I’m hoping these practices will continue to bear this delicious fruit of the awareness of “the dearest freshness deep down things” in my everyday moment-by-moment living.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">If I can’t learn to see and feel the holy in my every day, the days of my life will pass and I won’t have spent them aware of God.</b><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Wouldn’t that be an unbearable tragedy?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because, like a thunderbolt, the realization strikes: we are practicing <i>now</i> for eternity. What else will we <i>do</i> for all the ages except to notice and delight in the holiness of God, in all its myriad beauties and multi-faceted excellencies? </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Forever, we'll delight in Him. We'll notice and bathe in His holiness. We'll fall deeper into Him, revel in our intimacy with Him, enjoy the exquisite privilege of curling up in the lap of the Lord of the universe. </span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-38279112178369394152014-09-21T02:14:00.000+12:002014-09-21T02:14:15.961+12:00just a quick note...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...to explain the silence on the blog for the past month. I've been recovering from my broken foot (doing very well, thanks), and getting my oldest son into first grade in our little local school. He's in the Russian class, he wears a suit every day, it's been a big deal for all involved. After three weeks h</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">e's doing very well, but we're all pretty exhausted! :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/carolyn.r.broughton" target="_blank"><i>(Check out my Facebook page for photos of his first day...)</i></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got about three posts lined up in the wings (the Internet keeps conking out on me when I get an evening with enough energy left to post), so stay tuned and watch this space for the things I've learned in August & September about listening, motherhood, and this art of sojourning we're trying to do every day... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for your patience and your prayers!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carolyn</span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-31039080336450355832014-08-20T22:25:00.003+12:002014-08-20T22:25:34.565+12:00of flying machines and grace-filled mothering<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> wish I had a flying machine.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(We haven't actually seen this movie... this model came in an airplane kids' kit!)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Will and I made <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/entertainment/movies/film-review-yogi-bear/story-e6frf8r6-1225987739137?nk=98ace9a6b1161fd258b30fe43e94a855" target="_blank">Yogi Bear's flying machine</a> at “rest time” today. I reluctantly relinquished my usual hour of lying-down-flat-in-a-dark-cool-room because he’s been begging me for several days to “make a craft”…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ever feel like David? <a href="http://biblehub.com/psalms/55-6.htm" target="_blank"> “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove; I would fly away and be at rest!” (Ps. 55:6)</a></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That refrain played over and over in my heart today.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My second son (4.5 yrs) currently idolizes screen time over every other thing in his life (including Jesus, his mom and dad, all his friends, and every toy he owns). Practically <i>all</i> of his communication with me this morning consisted of complaining, whining, and begging for screen time, until I put my foot down and insisted “I can't hear you” as long as he continued to whine. He finally forced himself to switch to a <i>slightly</i> less nasal tone just to get me to respond.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Oh, for the wings of a dove…</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After sticking the flying machine together and taping feathers to strips of felt to make Indian headbands, I snuck into my room to lay down on my bed, but I barely got 10 horizontal minutes before Ruby woke up. Ten whole minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then it was up-and-at-‘em again, off to the shop, greeting the entire neighborhood en route to and from, the flurry of getting dinner, letting the dog out, putting the dog away, kids fed, bathed, toenails clipped, put to bed, phone calls made, emails typed, and… I’m still so wound up that even though I’m exhausted, I had to type the rough draft of this post before I could even start my bedtime routine.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I want to fly away on Yogi Bear’s flying machine, without anyone sitting behind me - just me. By myself. Alone. Without anyone else. Alone. Did I mention, I want to be <i>alone?</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Oh…that I could fly away, and be at rest!</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Where are my wings?</i> </b> I kept glaring up at heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ever have a day like that? What did <i>you</i> do? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Desperate, in the middle of the afternoon, I made Ben write down what he was thankful for, and then I did the same - a purple prophecy written in hope, since it sure isn’t evident yet…</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>(in case it's not clear in the photo, Ben's list - made with help - includes "cousins in NZ, a cute little sister, 2 grandmas who love me, Gpa Tim and that I have his name, and a ride in a donkey cart today")</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I went out after rest time and took pictures of sunflowers, each click of the shutter a tiny burst of helium in my heart, finally lifting it up off the ground to gain a bit of altitude…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I petted the dog… For the first time in my life, I’ve discovered how therapeutic it can be to scratch the velvety fur behind a dog’s ears. I’m amazed it’s taken me 30 years to discover this!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And now, I’m writing this blog post, looking for wings, hoping the story of this day will encourage even just one other heart out there…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The next day...</span></h2>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I discover that a book review for a course I’m taking is due <i>right now, </i>so<i> </i>during “rest time” I curl up with my Kindle for a hasty reading session. The book I’ve chosen to review is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1408530103&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">a thick tome on mentoring</a> which came highly recommended, but my initial scratches (months ago) left me worried it might be quite dry. Hah! Completely the opposite. I can’t stop highlighting. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the middle of Chapter 2, the author is describing how a good spiritual mentor can help us discern spiritual meaning in and through the events of our daily lives. These words jump off the page:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“[Eugene] Peterson compares pastoral ministry to work on the farm with its routines of <b>unglamorous chores</b>, such as cleaning the barn, mucking out the stalls and pulling weeds. <b>Spiritual mentoring is farm work</b> in which we meet routinely with our mentor for periodic unglamorous conversations and prayer. <b>Though moments of grand epiphany burst in or around us, the heart of mentoring another is the modest work of the routine</b>.” (emphasis mine)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This girl, who’s never owned an animal larger than a hamster, has been feeding chickens, scooping dog poop and pulling up huge fistfuls of garden weeds since the beginning of summer, so the “farm work” analogy currently has a - shall we say - <i>pungent</i> meaning for me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But it was the end of that paragraph which took my breath away:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“<b>Most pastoral work takes place in obscurity</b>,” says Peterson, “<b><i>deciphering grace in the shadows</i></b>, searching out meaning in a difficult text, blowing on the embers of a hard-used life. <b>This is hard work and not conspicuously glamorous</b>.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have a confession to make. </span><i>[stage whisper]</i> <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’m one of those people who secretly likes being “conspicuously glamorous”. Really. I like getting attention, looking put together, receiving credit for what I’ve accomplished...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Guess what I’m discovering. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Motherhood is anything but glamorous. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">(Big surprise, right?) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Motherhood is “deciphering grace in the shadows.” </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When I read that phrase, I saw<i> </i>why God wants me to read this book: not because I’m supposed to go out and collect unsuspecting mentorees on which to bestow my vast depths of knowledge (hah!), but because I already <i>have </i>three little mentorees living in my house everyday, whose souls I am (scarily) responsible for shaping. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I mean, of <i>course</i> if you’re a mother, you’re a mentor, right? Yeah, ok - it should’ve been obvious, I guess. But for some reason, I just didn’t connect motherhood and <i>mentoring</i>. I thought mentoring was something older, more experienced adults did for younger adults… (so, um, that would be <i>me</i>, with my three little adults-in-training…) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know it’s God who works in all of us to will and to act according to His good purpose, and I know He is ultimately the One forming the character of my children, but I also have a huge responsibility to partner with Him in raising my kids to be godly, mature, responsible, joy-filled adults. After all, He did pick <i>me </i>to be their mother - gulp! - and here in the middle of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1408530103&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">this book on Spiritual Mentoring</a>, I am finally getting it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>I need to learn how to become a good mentor because I already have three precious souls under my care. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I need to learn how to “decipher grace in the shadows.” I have this sneaking suspicion that if I can find grace in the shadows, I’ll find those wings I’ve been looking for.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">p<a href="http://www.petinfoclub.com/Images/white%20dove%20shutterstock_40854358.jpg" target="_blank">hoto credit</a></span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I scroll back in my Kindle to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Mentoring-Seeking-Giving-Direction-ebook/dp/B002AS9XNA/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1408530103&sr=8-1&keywords=spiritual+mentoring" target="_blank">another quote earlier in the book</a> which I highlighted in the context of adult mentoring but which takes on a new savor when applied to motherhood:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“The good mentor will help us ‘read between the lines’ for the hidden and quietly earthy messages that God will give because life is full of God.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yes. <b>To help my children read between the lines of life and unearth God’s messages for them because <i>life is full of God. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Or this one:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“The success or effectiveness of spiritual mentor may be directly related to the ability of mentor and mentor to <b>move beneath the surface into the depths of treasures within the mentoree</b>. Anything that we bring to the surface has the potential to turn out to be silver or gold hidden in the rough, angular and random shapes of the earthly rock containers that carry these unique treasure. <b>The patient, sometimes tedious work of mining for the rich treasures within the seemingly worthless rocks is the work of spiritual mentoring. </b>These rocks are the stories of our daily lives.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So. Guess what?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the midst of the tedious daily grind of dealing with bad attitudes and ungrateful hearts (often my own), dishes, laundry, farm chores, and cooking, <b>I am mining unique treasures of gold and silver in the souls of my children. </b>I am helping them read between the lines of life for God’s messages. I am “deciphering grace in the shadows.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Those glimpses of grace, when brought out into the light, <i>become wings</i> with the power to lift me up out of the mundane, into the holy. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Does this resonate with you? This doesn’t just apply to children, you know; <b>we are mining for treasures with every friendship we have.</b> We are “deciphering grace in the shadows” in each conversation, each email, each train of thought, each journal entry, each prayer we whisper to the Holy Spirit in the depths of our hearts. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We are all spiritual mentors for each other, and <b>our holy work is the quietness of listening and paying attention</b> to the “hidden and quietly earthy messages” God is every moment giving.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because life is full of God, there is grace to decipher in the shadows. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And that makes the shadows full of wings.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_QTOFbbFkqM/U_R1jnPFKmI/AAAAAAAADJ0/5IMY8V6Cca8/s1600/doves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_QTOFbbFkqM/U_R1jnPFKmI/AAAAAAAADJ0/5IMY8V6Cca8/s1600/doves.jpg" height="640" width="624" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://carriedinow.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/doves.jpg" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit</span></a></i></td></tr>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-49737903698878445532014-08-14T06:00:00.000+12:002016-08-25T21:32:16.265+12:00at the intersection of need and grace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nmj6u7WVK0/U-ixDGqdCvI/AAAAAAAADHw/GYPHJb1JZQE/s1600/DSC09689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9nmj6u7WVK0/U-ixDGqdCvI/AAAAAAAADHw/GYPHJb1JZQE/s1600/DSC09689.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px;">O</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">k, so I’m not in that much pain. Not nearly as much as <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Behind-Beautiful-Forevers-Mumbai-undercity-ebook/dp/B0074CFEEY/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" target="_blank">some of the people I’ve been reading about lately</a>. Compared to them, this ordeal is nothing. Less than nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But I’ve been thinking about grace, and how hard it is for me to receive it, and give it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Having a broken foot and hobbling around on crutches has made me freshly aware of how needy I am, and somehow, having my neediness out in front of me, for me and all the world to see, has finally freed me to ask for and receive grace humbly.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Why is that?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Is it because there is no possible way to hide this need? I don’t have the option of covering it up, or wearing a mask? It’s on my foot, for goodness’ sake - everyone can see why I can’t walk properly, it’s encased in white and hard as rock. I’m free to not give excuses. I’m free to not have to feel guilty about this one.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Is it because everyone agrees that this is a need? An injury is an injury. People have them every day, live with them for years sometimes, they’re painful, and people with injuries need help. Period. So it’s “ok” for me to ask for help - everyone understands.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What about when I’m lonely? Why do I feel the need to cover that need up?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Or when I’m caught in the comparison trap and feeling less than, or not enough? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What about feeling hurt and bruised by words someone said, or didn’t say, or won’t say? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Why can’t I let those injuries hang out there too, for all the world to see? Why do I let them fester somewhere deep inside of me, eating away at my ability to ask for and receive grace?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The fact that the physical can be seen while the spiritual is invisible means (in my illogical </span>subconscious<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> mind) if my injury can be seen, that makes it justifiable. Understandable. Excusable. Since there was </span></span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">nothing </i><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I could do about this, it’s ok to not be perfect, to not have my act together. It’s out of my hands.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But sin-struggles, however, or character flaws, or abscesses of the soul - those are different. Illogically, I feel I should somehow have control over those things, or should be able to deal with on my own, or that no one else struggles with them, so I’ll just keep them to myself. I tell myself (subconsciously) those internal pains are my responsibility to deal with. They’re embarrassing signs of weakness and imperfection, and I hate them. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The trouble is, heart-wounds hurt just as much - sometimes more - as a broken foot. And when they’re not dealt with, they fester, and they start to suck me dry on the inside. When I can’t receive grace for those parts of me that are hurting or wounded - like not being a perfect mom, a perfect wife, a perfect home-educator, a perfect friend, a perfect artist, a perfect listener, etc, etc - then I can’t <i>give</i> grace either.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When I can’t give or receive grace, I live in a chronically discontent state, critical, impatient, resentful and unsatisfied. And because as the homemaker my mood sets the tone for our whole home, my family has to live in a poisonous environment that is the exact <i>opposite </i>of my actual vision for our home: a place of welcome, belonging, peace, purpose, forgiveness, contentment, creativity, beauty, and joy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>I sabotage my own dreams with my inability to receive grace for my internal wounds. </b>When I can’t receive grace, I can’t give it either. So no-one gets the grace or the help or the healing they need, not me, or anyone else around me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What a miserable way to live.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I want to change this.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe that’s why God broke my foot. Maybe this silly rolled ankle and subsequent 8 hot, Saturday hours in a taxi crossing a sprawling city to pursue x-rays, a cast, and crutches at three different locations is all meant to teach me something.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe God wants me to notice something about my attitude <i>now</i>, when I’m <i>forced</i> to humble myself and ask for help - <i>nicely</i>, so as not to alienate the people who will have to continue to help me for the next 28 days. Maybe He wants me to let go of some of the small things I chronically keep up with (and make others keep up with):</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-clean kitchen surfaces</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-a clutter-free floor</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-random mugs left lying around collected and brought to the sink</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-beds made</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-dirty clothes off the floor and into the basket</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There’s nothing wrong with these things in and of themselves, but when I make them into idols and elevate them to a far higher level of importance than they deserve, and make others in my family serve my own drive for perfection even when it makes them miserable… Then something’s out of whack. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Grace is missing. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe God broke my foot to show me that </span>at the intersection of need and grace <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>when I have no choice</i>, </span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I <i>am</i> actually capable of giving and receiving grace, for myself and for others.</b></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And maybe knowing this important truth about myself will enable this "grace thing” to stick long past my 30 obligatory days of crutches and dependence. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-clear/forming-new-habits_b_5104807.html" target="_blank">Doesn’t it take about that long to start building a habit? </a></span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-71816658308963251692014-08-11T01:13:00.000+12:002014-08-11T01:13:42.041+12:00for when God calls your bluff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VFmDkEQkXhk/U-dk0mImwmI/AAAAAAAADHA/HIcEvAuJUpY/s1600/castandcrutches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VFmDkEQkXhk/U-dk0mImwmI/AAAAAAAADHA/HIcEvAuJUpY/s1600/castandcrutches.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">have a confession to make.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I usually write and re-write each post several times, trying to get them word-perfect, thinking through everything to the enth degree to make sure I sound really profound...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hardly ever write unscripted, directly onto the screen, like I'm doing now. Part of my reason for writing and editing posts ahead is our usually frustratingly slow Internet (which seems to have picked up this afternoon). But mostly I do it because I like to look perfect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like looking perfect. I like to have my act together, do life fast and efficiently, never drop any balls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, God called my bluff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a grainy PhotoBooth picture of my two feet, currently stretched out on our veranda couch, and my latest acquisition: <i>kasteli</i>, in Russian. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here are a few thoughts on my two days so far - out of thirty - which I will spend on crutches...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Top Ten Things My Broken Foot Has Taught Me (so far):</b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#1 - Using crutches really hurts your armpits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#2 - Not being able to do things fast - or at all - is driving this efficiency-craving person crazy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#3 - Sara Groves' latest album, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Invisible-Empires-Sara-Groves/dp/B005JJ0E44/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1407673858&sr=8-3&keywords=sara+groves" target="_blank">Invisible Empires</a> (</i>which I listened to in the car yesterday on my 2.5 hour journey - each way - to and from the city to get my foot x-rayed and casted) has taken on a new and deeper meaning.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjlJ6O0xENw/U-dmp67cMrI/AAAAAAAADHM/ORKO0JB_4B8/s1600/InvisibleEmpiresCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjlJ6O0xENw/U-dmp67cMrI/AAAAAAAADHM/ORKO0JB_4B8/s1600/InvisibleEmpiresCover.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Especially <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XoFUhCjnJk" target="_blank">this song... (shown here live)...</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjrwV5jIukk" target="_blank">and this one... her video had me grinning wide...</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjrwV5jIukk" target="_blank">"promise, that just when love grows cold, you'll make it precious again..."</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#4 - The book I started reading today and can't put down, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Behind-Beautiful-Forevers-Mumbai-undercity-ebook/dp/B0074CFEEY/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1407674697" target="_blank">Behind The Beautiful Forevers: life, death and hope in a Mumbai undercity</a></i> (Katherine Boo), has put my entire life into perspective in a way I could not have absorbed before Friday. </b> If I am feeling inconvenienced and frustrated by a tiny crack in a toe-bone, how do I have a right to complain when so much of the world lives in poverty and agony and mark their good days by whether or not they had to eat rats for supper?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have so. much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so. <i>blessed</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#5 - Being forced to slow down is good for me. </b> (You'll notice this is almost a repeat of #2, except here? It's positive. See? I'm learning already.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#6 - Being required to rest shows me how bad I am at it. </b>This is not a good thing. Which makes me thankful for the chance to learn how to do it better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#7 - Having to depend on others for the simplest things (like toilet paper to blow my nose) is both humbling and life-giving. </b>The truth is, I <i>am</i> dependent, whether I like to admit it or not. Hobbling around on one leg requires me to acknowledge that truth. Which said acknowledgement is healthy for my soul.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#8 - Realizing I have the best husband in the world is making me fall in love with him all over again. </b>(As I type this, he's humming in the kitchen while making dinner.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#9 - Depending on other people makes me depend on Jesus more. </b>(see #7...is there a theme here?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>#10 - Breaking my foot earned me 8 hours in a car by myself </b>(well, if you don't count my wonderful local taxi driver, who patiently ferried me all over the hot city from place to place). It was a unexpected but oddly satisfying break from the routines of home, a chance to reconnect with God through <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Invisible-Empires-Sara-Groves/dp/B005JJ0E44/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1407675155&sr=8-3&keywords=sara+groves" target="_blank">music</a>, and through meeting brand-new and surprisingly helpful and compassionate images of Himself. I'm not saying I'll go out and break another bone just to have time to myself (ok, the thought has crossed my mind) - but every cloud does have a silver lining!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Extra Credit: #11 - Crutches can be used for all kinds of things, including machine guns and electric guitars. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So... there you have it. God called my bluff, and I'm now asking Him for the grace and patience to make it through another 28 days of hobbling, being needy and dependent, and asking for help. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pray with me?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With love,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carolyn-on-crutches</span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-60893962095236218872014-07-30T06:00:00.000+12:002016-08-25T21:33:07.981+12:00going native<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">{Digging up a laugh from the archives four years ago, after our first year living in this village...}</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Take a good long look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make sure you catch the whole ensemble, including the blue long-underwear and fleece-lined crocs… this is the new me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I have finally arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I am officially enculturated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Is that a word?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The backstory: On Monday, my new house helper asked me why I wear “real clothes” (meaning a long skirt or pants and blouse) around the house every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Local women here wear housedresses pretty much all the time, made of light cotton in the summer and velour in the winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They only put on “real clothes” if they’re going “out”, and walking up the street to the local shop doesn’t count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My helper wears the same black and green striped housedress every time she comes to our house to clean (I wonder how often it gets washed…)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I made the lame excuse that I haven’t had time to get any clothes here, so I’ve just been wearing the clothes I brought from home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>(Which is sort of true—we’ve only been to the big city once since getting back, and we steered clear of the humongous bazaar where they sell local items like housedresses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest of the truth is that to be honest, I've had zero inclination to buy a housedress—I didn't think I’d be brave enough to wear it outside the house, and I didn’t want to have to change my clothes every time I popped out to the shop… plus housedresses in general are not very attractive, in my opinion.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">SO, since my wardrobe was obviously sadly lacking, and my helper’s latest project is collecting items from the big city bazaar to resell out of her house, she helpfully offered to pick up a housedress for me and sell it to me at cost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>How could I refuse? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Plus</i>, I thought, <i>I do want to fit in here, and if it looks weird to them for me to be wearing my nice clothes all the time, then I don’t mind “going native.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What color do you want?” she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh, I dunno—blue, I guess?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it doesn’t really matter…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Shouldn’t have added that last bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She was planning to go into the city to get more stock the next day, and I invite her to stop by our house for dinner since I knew she wouldn’t have time to cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> At 7pm s</span>he knocks at the door at 7pm, and sits down at my table to try spaghetti (which she liked, by the way). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After a few bites, she says, “Wait til you see what I got for you—they didn’t have any blue, but I think you’ll like this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She grabs her shopping bag and pulls out—well, an </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">animal skin</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I just burst out laughing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Try it on, try it on!” she says, enthusiastically. “I told them you were my size but a </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">lot</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> taller… see if it fits!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hilarious. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>What the heck</i>, I thought, <i>why not? </i>Laughing the whole time, I strip to my long underwear right there in the kitchen and zip the thing up to my neck. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It really suits you!” she’s exclaiming. “It came to the ground on me—it’s just the right length for you! But you need to unzip it a little—“ and she pulls the zip halfway down my chest—“there, it looks great!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I look like Eve walking out of the garden, but I hear myself say, “Yeah, wow, and it’s so comfortable!” And before I can stop myself, I add, “I could wear this every day! Look, it even has a couple pockets…” and she chimes in, “Yeah, and the zipper is great for breastfeeding—you just—“ and she pantomimes—“zip it down, and there you go!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can’t stop laughing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I prance into the next room to show James, and his face registers “Shock-horror!” before making a few polite noises… I laugh even harder. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I go back and pull out money to pay her, thanking her the whole the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As she’s going out the door she finishes with, “I like it so much—I’m getting one for myself the next time I go! Then we can match!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Oh</i> my goodness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Still giggling, I go back to James, strike a pose, and ask him what he really thinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just gives me this look that says it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Then I go find Will (then about 2 1/2):<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Will, how do you like Mommy’s new dress?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A slow smile breaks over his face. “Mommy—</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">angel</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">!” he says with awe. And then “ ‘Pots! (</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>spots)</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">” he says, poking curiously at them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Laughing so hard, I have to go to the bathroom before I pee my pants, and while I’m sitting there catching my breath, I think, </span><i>Could it get any better than this?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wore my new duds all day yesterday and today too, and actually, if you can get past the dead animal look, it’s a very functional garment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 80% cotton, washes well, has pockets for cell phone and chapstick, and <i>is</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> actually very convenient for breastfeeding… </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And even though I look ridiculous, every time I put it on I will think of my sweet helper and how much she needs to know Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't miss the huge black leather gumboots... I think they make the outfit.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">P.S. Today I actually got up the guts to wear it out to the corner shop. The ladies who run the shop are all my friends, and I wanted to see their reaction. They <i>loved</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> it. “Oh, it looks so </span><i>good</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> on you! You shouldn’t wear those long skirts all the time—you’re so tall, you should show off your legs! You look like a </span><i>model</i><span style="font-style: normal;">!” (which is the same word in every language) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Well. How can I possibly argue with that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-66013943220110875372014-07-26T17:36:00.001+12:002014-07-26T17:36:42.966+12:00listen to your life {July lessons in listening}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 39px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>L</i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>et life shape itself.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This refrain peppers the pages of Marlena di Blasi’s latest book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Antonia-Her-Daughters-Marlena-Blasi-ebook/dp/B007TGJAL8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1406349190&sr=8-1&keywords=antonia+and+her+daughters" target="_blank">Antonia and Her Daughters</a></i>. I read di Blasi as much for her pithy quotes and insight into human nature as for her mouth-watering descriptions of Italian food and life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Curled up under a light blanket in my dark room, savoring my tiny oasis of calm in the middle of the afternoon, I’m pondering di Blasi’s words, thinking now about life, about observation, about allowing the shape of a day to be determined by forces outside oneself, not by one’s own will. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This is hard for me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’d rather set out a schedule with lines and boxes, fill in each half-hour slot carefully, stick to the plan. I like knowing what’s coming, the security of preparing in advance so I can rise to the occasion, feel the thrill of success. I like having all my ducks in a row, how it feels to keep all the balls spinning briskly in mid-air without dropping a single one. I <i>hate</i> that. Dropping one.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This sort of square life might be safe, but I’m discovering it lacks a certain… zest. The element of surprise, maybe? I’m slowly realizing that surprise is always part of a day; it’s my choice to welcome it or stubbornly push it away which determines whether the surprise adds to my pleasure in the day, or not. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Coming upon my daughter sitting on the wooden plank bridge across our backyard water channel, blissfully engaged in reaching her little arm into the cool milky water, scrounging a fistful of mud from the bottom of the trench, pulling it up dripping to smear its cool silkiness over her bare skin… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">How do I react? Do I scream and scold and whisk her off to the bathroom for a shower, chastise her for getting dirty, for caking her dimpled legs with mud, smearing it over her face? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Or do I stop, notice the light on the back of her neck, see the shimmer of her fountain of hair, take in her quiet absorption, the way she calmly soothes herself with the elemental coolness of water and dirt against her skin? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Do I receive the sight of her as a gift, <i>let life shape itself, </i>take what’s given? Or do I push it away, rigidly insisting on my own ideas of what’s good in a day?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m learning. Slowly.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">lessons in listening</a>, this <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html" target="_blank">year of slowing down</a>, of giving myself permission to rest, to be still, to think, to write, to not pursue people unless the fit takes me… these months are changing me, stretching me. I’ve been like dough that needed time to rise before it can be deflated and stretched over waiting pans. I’ve needed rising time. And I’m being kneaded, gently but firmly, and stretched, sometimes to tearing point, over a waiting receptacle which, when I first look at it, I think I will never be able to fit. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Three children. <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/05/ok-you-can-all-breathe-sigh-of-relief.html" target="_blank">A dog.</a> Chickens. Guests. A garden. A borrowed house. A village life in Central Asia. Three foreign languages. Intermittent running water, sporadic power cuts. If you had shown me my now-life ten years ago, I would have said, I’ll never be able to fit that. I’ll never stretch that far. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><b>Let life shape itself.</b></i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our latest additions! In for a penny, in for a pound...<br /></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I would change di Blasi’s mantra slightly. I would say, <i><b><a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/01/my-one-word-for-2014-whats-yours.html?showComment=1396454508182#c3338721086273402121" target="_blank">Listen</a>. Listen to your life. Let God shape the day, the moment, the hour. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>I’m beginning to hear God’s voice in the surprises. </b>Things I would have pushed away before, now I’m beginning to smile instead, when I see them. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The knock of a stranger on my gate. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Before this listening, before this expanding and growing, before this stretching, it would have been ::<i>sigh:: Not now! I feel invaded! I have things to do! Please, go away… </i>These feelings promptly followed by a flood of guilt, because, after all, am I not here for exactly this, these people, these women? </span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Am I not called to spill out my life for that knock on the gate?</b><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now, sometimes, more often than before, I can meet the knock with calm, sometimes even with pleasure. <i>It’s ok. There’s fresh bread. A pitcher of cold tea. Sweet peas. We’ll be fine. Come in, come in, come inside, sit down a few minutes. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Lord, order my day. Shape my life.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This simple prayer has changed my outlook. I am learning how to stop myself on the point of freaking out and say to my rising panic, <i>Listen. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m learning to notice the afternoon sunlight on the back of my tiny daughter’s neck. To relish the softness of <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/05/of-awareness-and-stray-dogs-may-lessons.html" target="_blank">our (initially unwanted) dog’s</a> coat, the satiny bits behind her ears. <i>(Yes, surprise - our dog is a “her”!) </i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’m learning to expect the inevitable knock at the gate and sometimes feel a thrill, instead of a surge of dread.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">To go out on the street after dinner for no other reason than to open my heart to the dusty golden sunset and the silhouettes of my neighbors and their children playing. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Why haven’t I lived like this for years? </i>I find myself wondering. <b><i>This</i>, exactly this, <i>letting life shape itself</i>, is the way to find joy. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And to be honest, every day is <i>not</i> this way, this listening, receiving, peace-filled, stretched-and-open way. It comes in fits and starts. When I’m tired or hungry or at the end of an especially trying day, with intermittent water and even less patience, I am <i>not</i> gracious. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I long to grow roots deep enough to </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px;">always </i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">reach that Living Water. I long for my heart’s cup to always brim with the </span><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/sweet-water/id580700754?i=580701007" style="letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">"Sweet Water" </a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">of Calvary love, </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/783489-for-a-cup-brimful-of-sweet-water-cannot-spill-even" style="letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">like Amy Carmichael says</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">, so that no matter how sudden the jolt to my cup, no bitter drops spill out. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Antonia-Her-Daughters-Marlena-Blasi-ebook/dp/B007TGJAL8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1406349190&sr=8-1&keywords=antonia+and+her+daughters" target="_blank">Festina lente. <i>Make haste slowly. The light won’t wait</i>,</a></b> urges Marlena. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m making haste slowly. I’m learning to listen to my life, to bend my rigidity in order not to miss the beauty of the shifting light. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>The light won’t wait, you know.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Welcoming the moments lets joy flood in.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>How do you handle unexpected interruptions? If you tried praying “Lord, order my day” each morning, how do you think it would change your outlook?</i></b></span></div>
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{To listen to the song I wrote about Amy Carmichael's quote, called "Sweet Water", <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/sweet-water/id580700754?i=580701007" target="_blank">click here...</a>}</div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-29228362740424094252014-07-14T04:47:00.004+12:002014-07-14T04:47:42.711+12:00testing, testing, 1, 2, 3...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hi all... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is just a quick post to test if my email feed burner is working correctly... there have been reports you all aren't getting the posts you signed up to receive! Gah! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sorry... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm NOT tech-savvy, but I have been fiddling around on the FeedBurner website and made some adjustments... so let's see what happens. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you receive this post as an email in your inbox, can you email me at <b>carolyn@carolynbroughton.com</b> and let me know it's arrived? THANK YOU! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carolyn</span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-69219521904695167032014-07-10T03:23:00.000+12:002014-07-10T03:23:03.997+12:00for the days when you feel like a failure {thoughts from a recovering perfectionist}<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
<span style="font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: 0px;">J</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">ust now, I turned around and walked out of my kitchen, leaving behind a mountain of dirty dishes and my second enormous batch of apricot jam in two days. I just can’t face the stickiness yet, which is why I’m sitting writing this post.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ll just be honest. </span>I don’t like talking about my bad days. (Notice there aren't any pictures of my sticky kitchen in this post... I don't like showing you my messes, either!) I guess I want you all to think I’m the one with the answers, the one you can come to when you need encouragement and wisdom… Being<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> honest about my failures - here - feels like a big risk for me, because I’m one of those people who compulsively likes to look like I have my act together.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But the truth is? I don’t. Have my act together. At all. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>And today? I’m feeling like a total [gulp] failure. </b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>photo credit: I. Winsley</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I really don’t like that word, that f-word. I hate thinking about it, I hate feeling it, I recoil and cringe whenever anyone else has to use it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But since I’m being honest, there’s a moment or two every day (ok, a lot of moments) when I’m flailing wildly, grasping at straws, yelling desperately at Jesus for an emergency injection of patience or wisdom or <i>love </i>for someone proving particularly un-lovable at that moment.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m <i>slowly</i> learning the art of giving grace to myself, of appropriating every day the incredible endless grace I’ve already received in Christ. I want to let that river of grace flow freely in my life, drink from it all the time. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>photo credit: I. Winsley</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But… I still define my own “failures”. I set my bar high, jump with all my strength - and don’t always hit my own mark. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The low point of today’s “failures”? My sweet baby girl followed her brothers out our front gate, promptly tripped and fell and cut her cheek on a sharp stone. Even though I <i>know</i> in my brain that accidents can and do happen to every kid at some point, I still <i>feel</i> in my heart like a woefully negligent mother. Somehow the sight of blood seems so much worse when it’s a little girl after two rough-and-tumble boys. :(</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A bandaid and some ice cubes and she was back to normal, running around unfazed, but I sat there trying to push away horrible visions of her wedding day in a lovely white veil, trying unsuccessfully to cover up a scar on her cheek with make-up… (Yes, my mind leaps frantically ahead like this! Doesn’t yours?)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The bottom line is (in my own opinion) I “failed” to protect my child. I <i>know</i> it’s impossible for a parent to protect their child all the time from everything, but I still require it of myself. Hmm. Does that strike you as odd?</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit: I. Winsley</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are other felt “failures” too, staring me in the face. I feel like I’m failing to meet my second son’s emotional needs, and my first son’s creative ones. Today we ate the same boring food for lunch <i>and</i> dinner because the jam took over the kitchen. Even with a house helper (who cut up all the apricots for the jam this morning), <b>I still can’t make everything happen on time, and excellently. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Every day, I desperately try to cover up, push away, deny, rise above, overcome the dreadfully uncomfortable fact that I. am. not. perfect. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But today, I couldn’t escape it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know we all get made perfect in heaven, but today that perfection felt eighty years away, and meanwhile my floors are gritty and my toilet bowl desperately needs to be scrubbed.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I feel like Jesus is giving me a test, right now, as I sit here gasping in front of my computer screen, ignoring my sticky kitchen and my kids who need their teeth brushed: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Will you finally depend on My strength, now that yours has run out?</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I’m trying!” I want to shout. “I really am, but do please tell me how I am supposed to get all of this <i>done! </i> My daughter just peed all over the floor and is currently running around the house with nothing on her bottom half! The kitchen is covered in sticky! I’m exhausted and cranky and sick of potty-training a stubborn 20-month-old! I’m tired of gardening and canning and all the other work that goes along with this rural, primitive life! I’m just <i>tired! </i>Period!”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can dimly see Jesus, vague in the distance beyond my screen. He’s nodding slowly. Smiling a little. Patiently waiting for my diatribe to finish. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m not done yet. “I’ve had to cancel <i>three</i> Skype meetings in <i>two</i> days,” jabbing the words at Him with my finger, “which I was <i>really </i>looking forward to, but because of our <i>incredibly</i> unreliable Internet - <i>fast</i>, slow, <i>up</i>, down - those calls are on hold indefinitely, and I am <i>so</i> frustrated. I could <i>really</i> have used the encouragement this week, too.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He’s still nodding, looking at me. Not turning away. Holding me with His eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“The parenting never ends, the housework never ends, the laundry never ends, the stress never ends, my own pressure to meet every need excellently all the time, to cook food my kids want to eat for every meal - it never ends! <i>When</i> can I get off this ridiculous hamster wheel?” I splutter, stabbing my open palms in his direction. (I don’t add the rest of the truth He already knows: that the hamster wheel is <i>of my own making.)</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Eventually, I run out of steam. I stop for breath. I let the pause lengthen, wait to see what He has to say. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit: I. Winsley</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">For a minute, He doesn’t say anything. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I start thinking of my sink full of dirty dishes and the mountain of unfolded laundry sprawling all over the veranda table.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Finally, He says just one simple phrase, quietly.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Come to me.” Silence. I don’t know what to say.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After a minute He repeats it again, hands held out.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Come. To me.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I gaze at Him, almost with disbelief. I know what He’s inviting me to do, but my gut just can’t believe it’s that easy. What about all my housework? What about my failures? <b>Am I supposed to just leave it all behind?</b> Ok then, tell me <i>who</i> will do all this stuff? Because it has to get done sometime!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“<a href="http://biblehub.com/matthew/11-28.htm">Come to Me, and <i>rest</i></a>,” He’s beckoning. Almost beseeching. <b><i>As if He’s longing to save me from myself.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I hesitate.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I close my eyes. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I picture myself getting off the wheel, walking forward slowly, then more and more quickly towards His open arms. I picture Jesus enfolding me; I breathe in His scent of cedar wood shavings and sweat and sunshine. I take a deep breath in, and let it out. In. Out. Deep, slow breaths. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I <i>know</i> I just need to come to you straightaway when I feel overwhelmed,” I admit, my head still burrowed into His chest, “but some days it’s just <i>too</i> overwhelming and I’m just too flipped out.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I know.” Jesus is rubbing my back with a warm, comforting hand. “Believe me, I’ve felt everything you’re feeling: overwhelmed, exhausted, pressed in upon. Imagine crowds and crowds of needy people, and you have the power to heal and help them all, and the daylight hours only last so long, and you also have a responsibility to teach and train twelve hand-picked men in the ways and truths of God… Remember, I had all the same physical limits you have. But - I had the same Holy Spirit, too.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I nod, still nestled against Him. I could stay there forever.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I know the work never ends,” He whispers in my ear. “But - what about the joys?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>As I type the word “joys”, Ruby is sitting next to me on the couch, reaching her little fingers into the armhole of my sleeveless shirt to tickle me. She grins, then chuckles, showing her dimple. Her soft, round belly peeps out from under her nightshirt. She smells of toothpaste. She is utterly adorable.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit: I. Winsley</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Two minutes ago, my six-year-old came to find me, toothbrush in mouth - obviously my wonderful husband is picking up the bedtime slack tonight, while I write this - to sing me a random song he just made up: “Luggage in the morning / Luggage in the afternoon / Luggage in the evening, too…” </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>When I asked quizzically, “Why </i>luggage<i>?” he replied, with typical logic, “Well, someone’s always got luggage somewhere… in the airport, in taxis…” </i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit: I. Winsley</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Just now, as I was tucking my four-year-old into bed, he said to me, “Mom, I know why you call us ‘honey’…” he broke into a grin, around his thumb in his mouth, “because we’re soooo sweet!” I laughed and tickled him and he chuckled and burrowed into his pillow with his blanket. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>I left their room with a lighter heart. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Joys, indeed. With joys like these coming my way daily, can’t I can weather a bit of “failure”? Let’s re-define “failure” anyway. Let’s quit setting these high bars for ourselves, since Jesus has already done all that is <i>necessary. </i><b>My measuring stick is small, self-imposed and most of the time <i>wrong</i>.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Besides, it’s not about us anyway, or what we can do. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s all about Him - and what He’s already done.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><a href="http://biblehub.com/matthew/11-28.htm">Come to Me, and rest</a>.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Take My yoke upon you. Be Martha, if you must, but be Martha with a Mary heart. Never stop sitting at my feet. Never stop depending on Me. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Keep drawing out of my well, deeper, deeper, all the strength and patience and stamina you need. I never run out of joy, or courage, or peace, or long-suffering. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A good friend of mine (a fellow recovering perfectionist) gave me a mantra to remember, whenever I’m pushing myself too hard, not giving myself enough grace: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>I think I’ll let Him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>When have you felt like a failure recently? How did you deal with it? What does it take to make you run to Jesus and give up striving on your own strength?</i></b></span></div>
Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-62636280586003605582014-06-29T03:41:00.002+12:002014-06-29T03:41:26.139+12:00how to ensure your words endure {June lessons in listening}<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>{My <a href="http://www.oneword365.com/">one word</a> for 2014 is "listen"... Each month I'm posting the lessons I'm learning - <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/p/one-word-listen.html">find the rest of my posts on listening here</a>!}</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 40px; letter-spacing: 0px;">A</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">s a <a href="http://afamilyofsojourners.blogspot.com/2014/02/on-writing-and-other-peculiar-habits.html">writer</a> and an <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/album/sparrow/id580700754">artist</a>, I want to be heard. I long for none of my words to fall to the ground. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But as a human, I know that’s impossible. The limitations of my sin nature, my personality, my background and my experiences ensure that at least some, possibly all, of my own words will eventually disappear. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m still mulling over <a href="http://markbuchanan.net/">Mark Buchanan’s</a> thoughtful and refreshing book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403950313&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God">The Rest of God.</a> </i>He describes his life as an author, pastor, and speaker, and admits his own similar desire for his words to endure. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>“Either God, God alone, keeps our words from falling and scatters them wide,”</b> observes Buchanan, <b>“or else there is nothing in them worth keeping and scattering in the first place. </b> Our concern, our responsibility, is simply to hear and heed God…”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+1&version=ESV">John’s gospel begins</a>, “<i>The Word</i> became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His glory…full of grace and truth” <i>(emphasis mine)</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The only Person whose words are sure to endure is the Living Word Himself. So, it follows that <b>the only way for me to ensure what I say endures is to make my words the words of God</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Our speaking comes out of our listening,” </i>Buchanan continues.<i> “What we say comes out of what we hear. </i>We have to be people who listen, day and night, to God. <b>Our utterances ought to be as Jesus’s were: an echoing of the Father, an imitation of him….”</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s a tall order. When I read those words for the first time, my heart sank. Given that I am not Jesus, that feels pretty much impossible!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But the word “echo” stood out to me: <b>I might not be Jesus, but I can surely echo Him.</b> I can repeat back - pass on - the words I hear from Him in my own heart, the words I read from Him in the Bible, the things He shows me through experience and circumstance. And if hearing God happens best when I am still, then the practices of Sabbath and listening are essentially connected. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+19&version=ESV">The Psalmist says</a>, “The heavens <i>declare </i>the glory of God… Day to day pours out speech… Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>God is always speaking, but we’re not always listening. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“There are so many voices,” says Buchanan. “And there is such little time to listen, to truly listen: to winnow and test it all, to heed and reflect and respond...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>“Sabbath is when we stop.</b> We slow down. We play, we rest, we dream, we wonder. <b>We cease from that which is necessary and turn to that which gives life. And in the hush that descends, we listen.”</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>The times when I can hear most clearly are times of stillness and quietness: in other words, when I’m cultivating a Sabbath heart. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“God isn’t more likely to speak on your Sabbath than on any other day,” says Buchanan, “but you are more likely to listen.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />On the day the apostle John saw the Voice and the vision which became the book of Revelation, there are two key contextual details which Buchanan highlights: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“One, he was in exile on Patmos. He was, in other words, under an enforced silence and aloneness, a season of inactivity. Two, it was Sunday, the Lord’s Day. It was his Sabbath. </span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">These conditions - the silence, the aloneness, the stillness, the Sabbath - might be beside the point. Then again, they might just be the point. </b><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It’s possible that they are mentioned because they form the necessary backdrop for true listening.”</span></div>
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<i>~Mark Buchanan, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403950313&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+God">The Rest of God, </a>ch 12 "Listen: Stopping to Hear God"</i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>It is only when we’ve first heard from God ourselves that we have something worth hearing to offer to our listeners. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In one of <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">Ann Voskamp’s</a> <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/06/what-our-boys-need-in-this-economy-their-dads-work-in/?">recent posts</a>, she urges her readers to <i>take time</i> every day. She says, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Daily disciplines are doors to full freedom.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Everyday take time. Everyday take time to feel the sun and the wind and the rain and feel that you are loved — and then let your life overflow with that love so that a thousand others feel that love. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Everyday take time to live loved — and live so others feel loved. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Everyday take time.</i> Time is there for the taking. For the unwrapping.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This daily unwrapping of the gift of time, the gift of Sabbath rest, frees us to truly listen, first to God and then to others. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ann continues, “<i><b>Give someone the gift of listening</b>… linger and look into their eyes and really listen and this is free and nobody can buy it and what is better than paying attention to someone with all of you fully present?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Give yourself permission to receive God’s gift of Sabbath rest - not just the 24 hours once a week when you stop and play and revive your soul - but <i>every day</i>. </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wOKaQh42GbM/U66bGzFeUBI/AAAAAAAADAs/yMI2vn2Ak0U/s1600/OneWord2014-listenJune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wOKaQh42GbM/U66bGzFeUBI/AAAAAAAADAs/yMI2vn2Ak0U/s1600/OneWord2014-listenJune.jpg" height="416" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Take time <i>every day</i> to rest, to still your soul and listen. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>In learning to be still enough to hear God, we will learn how to be still enough to listen, truly listen, to others.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>photo credits: I. Winsley</i></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075126476030582782.post-60776888728183838392014-06-07T23:06:00.001+12:002014-06-07T23:07:52.149+12:00of Bill Murray and keeping Sabbath {an unsolicited book review}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> recently finished </span>reading <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">one of the most restful books I’ve ever read. It is, coincidentally, a book on the spiritual discipline of Sabbath; but whereas many “Christian” books leave my recovering-perfectionist-self feeling guilty and depressed about all the spiritual disciplines I’m </span></span></span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">not</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;"> practicing or the good, Biblical things I’m </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">not</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;"> doing, this book left me feeling refreshed. Life-filled. Invited. Excited about unwrapping the gift of Sabbath in my own life. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mark Buchanan’s </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402138055&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+god+buchanan">The Rest of God</a></i> is a beautiful and, for me, timely invitation to explore the Biblical command to keep Sabbath rest. His pithy, insightful writing opened my spiritual eyes to see how keeping Sabbath and developing a Sabbath heart enables us to discover not just actual rest, but <i>the rest of God - </i>the things of God’s nature and presence we miss in our busyness.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“In a culture where busyness is a fetish and stillness is laziness, rest is sloth,” Buchanan muses. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“But without rest,” he continues, “we miss <i>the rest of God: </i>the rest he invites us to enter more fully so that we might know him more deeply. ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ Some knowing is never pursued, only received. And for that, you need to be still” (p3).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Being still has never been easy for me. I like to be doing, getting things done. I tend to measure the “success” of my day by how many items I’ve ticked off my to-do list. I struggle to live in the moment and I often resent interruptions. I find it difficult to lay down my task and look the person full in the face. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rest-God-Restoring-Your-Sabbath-ebook/dp/B007V8YREY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402138055&sr=8-1&keywords=the+rest+of+god+buchanan">this book</a> was a much-needed breath of fresh air (and a kick in the pants) to show me how crucial Sabbath is to healthy, Biblical living. <i>And</i> how much more expansive our potential for <i>true</i> productivity becomes when we joyfully keep Sabbath. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #101010; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One of the things that struck me was Buchanan’s differentiation</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b> between drivenness and purposefulness. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He<b> </b>noticed that <b>“the truly purposeful have an ironic secret: they manage time less and pay attention more”</b> (78). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He follows this up with <b>an invitation to live generously. </b>Buchanan says that you actually <i>generate</i> “more” time by extravagantly giving your whole self, and all of “your” time, first to God and then to others. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wonder... <i>is this really true?</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Can I really generate “more” time by extravagantly giving time away?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Giving my time away definitely doesn’t come naturally to me. I like to hang on to my time, count the seconds, hoard the minutes, and frugally dole out my hours. The trouble with that approach is (hoarse stage whisper) - “<i>It’s not really mine!”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If my time is not really mine, why do I hang on to it so tightly? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Sabbath is about <i>trust</i></b>, Buchanan points out. “[It] is turning over to God all those things—our money, our work, our status, our reputations, our plans, our projects—that we’re otherwise tempted to hold tight in our own closed fists, hold on to for dear life.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Oh yes. I <i>like</i> hanging on for dear life. It feels comforting to me. Secure. The trouble is, it’s exhausting! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Buchanan continues, “[Sabbath] is letting go, for one day out of seven, all those parts of our identities and abilities in which we are constantly tempted to find our security, and discovering afresh that we are his children and that he is our Father and shield and defender” (98).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Is any of this hitting home for you like it did for me? Doesn’t the idea of Sabbath sound delightful? Just imagine: we’re offered - by God - 24 hours out of each week to take a break from our worries, our insecurities, and our drivenness, and just bounce joyously on the trampoline of the Everlasting Arms for a while?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In one of my favorite movies, “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptmP1lziJw4">What About Bob</a>”, Bill Murray plays a neurotic hypochondriac who relies on his psychologist for sanity and reassurance. After Bob compulsively follows his psychologist and his family on vacation, turning up unexpectedly at the door of their cabin getaway, the irritated psychologist finally comes up with a way to get Bob to leave him alone: he tells Bob to take a vacation from his problems. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“A <i>vacation</i>?” Bob is incredulous. “From my… <i>problems</i>?” A look of sheer joy spreads over his face, as the suggestion sinks in. “Hah! A vacation! From my - <i>problems</i>!!” He backs away happily, hands in pockets, and strolls off whistling. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Dr. Marvin is overjoyed that his brainstorm worked so well and settles in to enjoy his family vacation - until Bob shows up bright and early at his screen door the next morning wearing a local t-shirt, and announces, “Good morning, Doctor!” The speechless psychologist quickly pulls him around the corner and demands in a frantic whisper, “What are you <i>doing</i> here?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Bob happily replies, “I’m on vacation! I’m just dropping by! How are you, Doctor?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Flabbergasted at how his plan has backfired, Dr. Marvin proceeds to concoct a series of elaborate plans for getting rid of Bob, while his</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> family gradually falls in love with Bob - who, on vacation from his problems, turns out to be a normal, likable guy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s what I want to do, once a week. <i>(Or every day?) </i>Take a vacation from my problems, and live in the realization that I am <i>free </i>from the power of sin over my life, and I have been invited into <i>the rest of God. </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>What about you? Do you need a vacation from your problems? Aren't you curious about </i>the rest of God?</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>Stay tuned for more thoughts on Sabbath rest, coming soon… </i></b></span></div>
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Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00544223597726830584noreply@blogger.com0