tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81578151316193831392023-11-16T08:57:30.944-08:00Sincerely StephyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-24414929473483494252015-07-20T12:25:00.001-07:002015-07-20T13:06:00.497-07:00Why Community Matters<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I dropped off almost 60 thank-you notes at the post office
today… and there were tears welling up in the corners of my eyes as I wrote
each one. We were overwhelmed, <em>literally</em> overwhelmed, with the support
we received from friends and family in the weeks following Teli’s accident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly? We would have made it through these past six
weeks. I can see that now. We would have made it home from the hospital that
awful first night. We would have found
sustenance without meals being dropped off.
We would have filled the hours without the movies and toys we were
blessed with. But the fact that we
didn’t have to was perhaps the greatest gift we could have ever imagined – and
yet never known to ask for. Community is one of the most precious gifts
our father in heaven has given us. And
He shows us how much this matters to Him when he tells us “to love our
neighbour as we love ourselves.” (Matthew 22:37-39)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m going to go out on a limb here and say even if you don’t
know what to do – do something. Because
showing compassion is never the wrong response. <em>And it matters.</em> I had one
friend who messaged me almost daily and
told me she would pop in when I was ready.
She knew that I probably needed some space to figure things out. She was right. And I appreciated it. I had another friend who just showed up on three
different occasions and told me to leave the house I had otherwise been
confined to while she watched my kids. She just showed up
- because she knew I would never ask for this.
And she was right. These were
completely opposite responses and yet both were bang on. It doesn't matter how we respond to suffering - just that we respond. Because each unique response fills in a gap and weaves together a beautiful tapestry of God's provision for us. The master creator still at work, in His perfect time. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I, personally, will probably never again say the words “Let
me know how I can help” because now that I have been on the other end, I know
that sometimes help is hard to ask for. Sometimes
you just scream at your spouse across the entire acre of your property because
you haven’t slept well in 10 days and you feel like you are about to snap. You don’t know how anyone else could help so you don’t ask. But when you realize that you have a community
around you that truly cares… it changes everything. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <strong>Something amazing and beautiful happens when love becomes a verb. </strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Loneliness dissipates, facades crumble, hearts knit together, the sun shines a little bit brighter, </span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">creation responds with new life and the entire host of heaven applauds.</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"> Everything we do matters… but love matters most of all.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></o:p> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I will say it again, from the bottom of our hearts - thank
you for loving on us. Thank you for
reminding us that we weren’t alone. I
hope the ripple effect of your “love-in-motion” reaches all the way around and
back to you. And, most assuredly, our
family plans to be a part of that ripple. :)</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-72618179302700648882015-06-06T00:18:00.000-07:002015-07-20T12:28:28.169-07:00Grace Enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhfXEg1GgCKgJ5-_YjCdBeklIei2zuy_9cfP45Jyh_Fb5VnaP78Mxwxb1hZ6NGtdeGjhhrGyJrhmKpha0top2aZt43OCG0plQFG-j_MJiue9rNRkQcvPfqU2JIP540cZXes9AOUkla7E/s1600/femur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhfXEg1GgCKgJ5-_YjCdBeklIei2zuy_9cfP45Jyh_Fb5VnaP78Mxwxb1hZ6NGtdeGjhhrGyJrhmKpha0top2aZt43OCG0plQFG-j_MJiue9rNRkQcvPfqU2JIP540cZXes9AOUkla7E/s400/femur.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So... this happened. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've finally given up on sleep for tonight... because my heart hasn't stopped racing yet... and for the cries that break the silence every 45 minutes as my not-even-three-year-old exits a sleep cycle and remembers again, the fall, the fear, the pain, the immobilization... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Deep, deep breath momma.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He's not even three. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He will eventually forget... even if I never do. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But maybe, if I write it down. Right now. I'll think back and instead of the gory details I will remember that which is truly and always most important... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The kind of grace that says this is nobody else's fault and there is no room for guilt here... not even a little bit. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace that allows a spouse to handle the stress and fear of it all however they need to. It doesn't have to mirror mine, it doesn't have to make sense. It just has to happen... hopefully without the next world war breaking out in ER room A7.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace from the paramedics, nurses and team of doctors that put my son back together again. Truly, they were so gracious with us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace from the friends and family who showed up in some way. We love you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace that reminds me it could have been worse... thank you God that it wasn't worse.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace that heard the gut-wrenching cries every 45 minutes and got up to soothe him back to sleep. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace to bury my head under the pillow to drown out those cries after I realized I wasn't helping.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grace all around.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And thank God... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There's enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for your prayers... seriously. Thank you so much. Telis is in a cast for the next 4-6 weeks and we won't be able to leave the house at all. It's going to be rough, but... there's grace for that too. He would love some visitors. He also loves Thomas... and Veggie Tales ;)</span></em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-92156112622606929142014-09-16T11:50:00.000-07:002015-07-20T12:27:44.415-07:00Remembering Daddy's Soup<span style="font-size: large;">A fresh pot of homemade beef barley soup is in on the stove and the kitchen is clean again... finally, a contented sigh and I can sit on the couch with my little guy. He watches Thomas, and my thoughts drift back to cold and windy days that I would walk home from school with the knowledge that the second I walked in my front door, wafting aromas of daddy's soup would welcome and warm me. He would make them daily at the restaurant and bring some home for us; tomato vegetable, chicken noodle, turkey with wild rice or beef barley. He would be napping by the time we got home so we usually scavenged the cupboards for cookies or chips instead. More often than not, we didn't even touch the soup, but it was there every day, just in case. And looking back now, I know that was what mattered. I did eventually reach an age where I appreciated the warmth, health and care behind this simple act and I suppose that's why it's so important to me to make it now. I suppose, that's why I do a lot of things. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My husband habitually asks me why I have a vegetable garden, can dozens of salsas, sauces, jams and jellies every year and batch cook meals every week. It's a lot of work and a lot of mess. Truthfully, I am only a decent cook and a horrible baker, but I do love spending time in both the garden and the kitchen. I love working with my hands and anticipating the fruits of my labour. I love all the different aromas and the contentment in knowing the meal I provide required a bit of sacrifice for the people I care about. But probably, most of all, I love the nostalgic feeling of daddy's kitchen. It's always there in the background, mixed in with the repetitions and the sights and smells of home. And then there's the knowledge, that we had this in common. That this is a language of love, passed down from generation to generation. Even in the busy-ness and high demands of our current culture it is something that is impossible to forget. I suppose that's what I too am aiming for...</span> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wqeVRZaqfT58orGkQcqJm0E4MbwH-JT1DnmL1Ft9LZ7IubAfspgmWprERpMkQpeDnBnZ5kXWIRMneE8VhFbMwOq60D5RuiFDinATDeP8E4yVSNvbuqaa_7KUkOIY7HV1ASz3XZv6HGQ/s1600/soup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wqeVRZaqfT58orGkQcqJm0E4MbwH-JT1DnmL1Ft9LZ7IubAfspgmWprERpMkQpeDnBnZ5kXWIRMneE8VhFbMwOq60D5RuiFDinATDeP8E4yVSNvbuqaa_7KUkOIY7HV1ASz3XZv6HGQ/s1600/soup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-80764683795871692142014-09-15T16:19:00.000-07:002014-09-15T17:56:57.081-07:00Marriage, Parenting & Dying to Self<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tensions
build.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Communications fade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Insecurities take root.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stalemate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Roommates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And the sudden realization that this<em>,</em> left unresolved and compounded by a year or two, could be marked as the beginning of the end. </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Except I have already vowed that will never be an option. And even in this day and age where everywhere I look divided families are managing a new way of life, that vow grips my heart. Something needs to change before that becomes our story. Some<em>one </em>needs to change.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">So I pray. I pray for God to change him. Of course to no avail. But then He whispers in my ear, <strong>"the real question is not who <em>needs</em> to change, but rather who is <em>willing </em>to change."</strong> Am I willing? Do I trust in my God enough to lay down my own life for my husband, knowing that would require a part of me to die? The part of me that is selfish. The part of me that needs to be right. And sometimes even, perhaps, that part of me that has nothing left to give. I don't even know if I can do this. Dying to self hurts! It doesn't seem fair. </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">But in a moment I am reminded of just how much of my life isn't deserved, and the voice of self-pity is silenced. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I will cling to the conviction that at least this kind of pain leads to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span> </div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em>“For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake, he is the one who will save it.” Luke 9:24</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Each marriage is a story all it's own; full of different chapters, conflict, character development and resolve. Our story, was actually quite pleasant for the 7 years we had together before these tricky, plot-changing, all-consuming characters (our kids) entered the picture. Before they came along we could hide the fact that we really weren't teammates. We could sweep this and other issues under the rug of our perfectly clean house and have a ton of fun in the meantime. No responsibilities. Time for friends, time for us to pursue dreams and utilize our gifts... time for everything! All that changed with the addition of one new heartbeat. Then, as if on cue the curtain dropped and we became painstakingly aware of how incapable we are of accomplishing <em>anything</em> together. We can agree on where we want our life story to go, but not on any single determining factor that will get us there. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps our problem has always been that we are so similar. Strong-willed, motivated and highly opinionated... We have both been employers for much of our adult life, each of us used to calling the shots and exercising our own perfectionistic and obsessive compulsive tendencies. The fact that we didn't agree on anything was mostly just a joke to those who knew us... until having a family made the need for us to be on the same team more than just a necessity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have been trying to grasp the concept of submission for some time. I wonder what our marriage would look like if I was one of those women that came by it easily. But I am not... it is not my nature. I never saw it modelled and my husband has even told me if I was the submissive type he would be less attracted to me. However, I know that there cannot be two heads of one household for "a house divided against itself cannot stand." And yet I yearn to experience the kind of marriage that actually functions as a team. I don't believe submission looks the same on every person. I just still haven't figured out what it should look like on me. I have wondered if perhaps it looks less like the wife I know I can never be, and more like a trust in God to fill in all the gaps apparent in both husband and wife. And that doesn't start with a "change him" prayer. Maybe this house cannot have two heads, but it can have one head and one heart. I think I'm beginning to understand God's purpose and design in that. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>The point is not who <i>needs</i> to change
but rather who is <i>willing</i> to change.</strong> That is a prayer; a heart that God can work with in a situation such as this. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in truth, if I knew how to change the things I don't like about myself, I would have done it by now. I don't know how. I need the unconditional love of my father and creator to work through my walls of insecurity and pride and remind me of who he created me to be. </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Marriage is not easy.<span style="font-size: large; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Throwing children into the mix does not make it any easier.</span><span style="font-size: large; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I firmly believe that couples, especially in this day and age, </span><span style="font-size: large; mso-spacerun: yes;">s</span><span style="font-size: large;">hould know that any area of the relationship that has problems, will be magnified</span><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: large;">when kids are added. Children are a blessing. They are beautiful and incredible and... they bring out the worst in us! They demand the entirety of our attention and reflect all the ways we fall short every single day. But for some reason it is still easier to lay down our lives for them than it is for our spouse.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
Unfortunately, I think all too often, it ends there. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s a choice and it is mine; to lay down my wants and petty expectations for his… and trust that whatever needs I have that are not being met in this season by an imperfect man will be covered by a perfect father in heaven. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">My older
sister once told me not to expect that my husband and I will ever be putting in
100% of the effort at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a give and take (when one is giving, the other is taking!) If
we do find we’re in a season where we are both contributing, sacrificing and
serving the other… well, that’s marital bliss (and it’s not impossible.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it would be unwise for me to expect
it. And if I'm brutally honest with myself, I've most often been the taker. He is a good man. It's time for a change... a change in heart. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKiLzkHa4QRb7WdCC3KfhLTVeZdbMRRmu3CWOxvENBU7mG9pi6rW_ZdHsr1dVIyDH3byFeJjawt5DPvFtbmML5fEI7oeWXbLGdFy2_V58KCPmZHDFjwvxyOSucIncsZ7QZSKttS0L5-Q/s1600/426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKiLzkHa4QRb7WdCC3KfhLTVeZdbMRRmu3CWOxvENBU7mG9pi6rW_ZdHsr1dVIyDH3byFeJjawt5DPvFtbmML5fEI7oeWXbLGdFy2_V58KCPmZHDFjwvxyOSucIncsZ7QZSKttS0L5-Q/s1600/426.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span> </div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-42316882245845123522014-08-20T11:51:00.002-07:002014-08-20T11:51:51.790-07:00Wilderness<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So <i>this</i> was what He had been preparing me for…</span></a><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></a></div>
<br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></a><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">This…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>wilderness</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where God’s people wandered aimlessly for 40 years before they were fit for the promised land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where John the Baptist exercised his devotion and complete surrender to his creator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where Jesus was tested for 40 days before he set out for ministry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the season of life in which the apostle Paul had to re-learn every thought pattern and belief that had previously defined him. All of these happened in a wilderness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that sums <i>this</i> up perfectly… for this is mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
</a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Deserted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncomfortable - painful even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Empty-handed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even still… If I had the choice, I would choose this same path again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may have kept my convictions to myself in the process but… we all learn our lessons in our own way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I still would have had to come alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Conviction: a fixed belief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words - it’s not changing (even if sometimes I wish it would.) The only thing that is changing is me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t be the same naïve people-pleaser that I used to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor can I continue living as if my actions don’t have power to build or destroy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because they do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had my seasons of misguided self-sufficiency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had my seasons of insecurity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this season I am in, (be it a wilderness) I have irrefutable clarity on who God has created and equipped me to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have the mind of Christ. (1 Cor 2:15, Phil 2:5)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have the power of life and death on my lips. (Prov 18:21)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> and </span>I can move mountains. (Mark 11:23)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every decision that I make and every word I speak causes ripple effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether I like it or not I AM changing the world around me for better or worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if anything matters, <i>everything</i> matters! I sometimes wish I just knew how to be something in between all or nothing… but I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t just succumb to the matrix of this life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t chase after the American dream while the rest of the world suffers for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t buy into the lies that what I am searching for can be found in anything this world has to offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The joys of simplicity and the miracle of the moment beckon me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just want to be where He is…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
</a><div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">“For all that is in the world, <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></a></div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life - <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">is not of the Father but is of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">And the world is passing away, <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">but the will of God abides forever.” <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>John 2:15-17</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So… Here I stand in the stillness of this desolate place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where the influences of man and the distractions of my own plans are nowhere to be found, and I can truly hear His voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It comforts and guides me. And suddenly I don’t care if it takes 40 days or 40 years… I know the one who led me here and I trust Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked for a change of heart and I got it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My soul craves something different, something deeper. I know that I will find it here… and just knowing that enables me to embrace this season more fully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>for we know that they help us develop endurance. </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>And endurance develops strength of character, </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>and character strengthens our confident hope… </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>and this hope will not lead to disappoint. </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em> For we know how dearly God loves us, </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>because he has given us the Holy Spirit </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>to fill our hearts with his love [through this trial]. </em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Romans 5:3-5<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
</a><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-46427896941990397732014-08-20T11:51:00.001-07:002014-08-20T11:51:30.368-07:00Learning to Like the "F" word<br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is a word that society teaches us not to say out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It instils negative connotations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is aptly used as an expletive when things go really wrong… And yet something about our comprehension of this word is strangely amiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What four letter word am I talking about?</span></span></a><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
</a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR17UiIbaDckSKSqh4sFCPGzbGqPVNIDk_uiAi9qnAGN-dEdJth" data-sz="f" height="265" name="fKFYBYrjFR26WM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR17UiIbaDckSKSqh4sFCPGzbGqPVNIDk_uiAi9qnAGN-dEdJth" style="height: 182px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 274px;" width="400" /><o:p></o:p></span></a></div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today’s reading is brought to you by… an expert failer! Seriously, I could probably host my own weekend seminar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could call it “How to Fail - Successfully.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But don’t sign up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can‘t guarantee that it wouldn‘t be a huge flop! :) Besides no one I know would actually take such a course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one sets out on anything with an intent to fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one posts even a single failure on their timeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just try to hide it, forget about it and move on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except that big `F` word is stamped over our heart and for some of us, we know we will never truly be able to dream the same way again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my 30 years I have dreamed big dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have worked my butt off to get them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have failed miserably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did you know that there I a difference between a <em>failer</em> and a <em>failure</em>? We are all inevitably failers. We can't avoid failing. It happens to the best of us. But a <em>failure</em> is something that none of us have to be. Let me explain. A failer believes that their lack of success is due to a lack of effort. They either didn't work hard enough or they haven't kept at it long enough. They believe that by changing their effort commitment, they will eventually succeed. On the contrary, a failure believes that their lack of success is due to a lack in and of themselves. They don't believe that they have what it takes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I used to believe that I wasn't capable of success. I have struggled with this wrong belief for most of my life. I was so convinced of this in high school that despite the fact that I was ranked as one of the best high jumpers in all of Canada, I never actually won a medal or achieved my dream of getting a scholarship. I jumped a national ranking height once in a low-level track meet and then I could never do it again. It got so bad that I would run up to the bar at a height that I could have done in elementary school and I would hit the bar on purpose with my hand. It couldn't have been more obvious that my belief was wrong - I had done it before! But that was what I believed in my heart. So if you feel like you believe something stupid about yourself that you know you shouldn't... I feel you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
</a><div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>The <em>only</em> thing that sets apart highly successful individuals is what they believe about failure.</strong></span></a></div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Did you know that studies had been done on the brain patterns of some rather fascinating individuals including Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein and Henry Ford? The most spectacular discovery was that there was actually nothing spectacular whatsoever. These hugely successful, almost phenomenal individuals just had some regular old brains. Despite their renowned successes in life, they were each quite familiar with failure.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I have not failed. I have just found 1000 ways that won’t work.” Thomas A. Edison<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Failing isn’t bad when you get to learn what not to do.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Albert Einstein <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Failure is simply an opportunity to begin again, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">this time more intelligently.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Henry Ford</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Can you imagine failing at the same thing 1000 or more times? If Edison didn't know the difference between being a failer and a failure, we might not have electricity today. What's even more amazing is that these guys didn't just endure each failed attempt - they embraced them! They knew they were going to learn something crucial to helping them eventually succeed. THAT is a belief worth changing in your heart.</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p>If you have kids and if you're anything like me, you probably don't want to see your kids make the same mistakes you did. So how can we keep them from letting their failures define them? I had terrific parents and I did pretty good in school, but I didn't learn this concept until recently. </o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p><strong>If you want to train your kids to think positively about their failures - <em>praise their effort instead of their accomplishments.</em> </strong></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Say stuff like, "I'm so proud of you for working really hard" instead of, "You are so talented." Because not unlike the majority of the population, they just want affirmation. <em> You train them what to value based on how you praise them. </em>AND buy them lot's of puzzles! Puzzles help them understand that they need all of the pieces to succeed. They are less likely to expect shortcuts and they value each learning curve. Children raised this way have a refreshing attitude towards failure. They do not ruminate over their mistakes. They simply perceive errors as problems to be solved and get to work. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, if you want to turn your own failures into stepping stones, develop gratitude about each failure you come up against. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is teaching you a valuable lesson that you MUST learn before you can move forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> AND recognize your true worth. Every decision you make and every word you speak causes ripple effects. Whether you like it or not, and whether you are aware of it or not, you are changing the world around you. If anything matters, you matter! And the way you view your failures matters. </span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">So friends... don't stop dreaming, don't stop trying, and don't stop failing! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></a><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-4841499043204018142014-08-20T11:51:00.000-07:002014-08-20T11:51:08.742-07:00Dear Present Self<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wrote this in my journal on my 1<sup>st</sup> night home with baby Teli… I try to read it every morning as a reminder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is presently 3:45am, Sunday, August 11<sup>th</sup> and you hold a brand new baby in your arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that you haven’t slept for 72hrs and you are very much wishing to be elsewhere - in bed fast asleep, or somewhere just beyond this current season of your life where baby has turned your world upside down and needing all - perhaps more - than you have to give. I know that your body is aching and recovering and you have every physical right to not want to participate in the moments right in front of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there are also a few things that I want you to know, that you may think you know, but you don’t really know, or else you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel this way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I’m just going to remind you… <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a matter of days… your baby won’t need you to hold him every waking second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He won’t need to hear the constant beating of your heart in order to feel safe in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will adjust to life outside of your womb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will need you less than he does now.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a matter of weeks… you will be packing away outfits and booties that he no longer fits in and you will be able to leave him with a caregiver so you can start to get back to the rest of your life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That precious little baby won’t need you quite as much as he does now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a matter of months… he will be eating solids and walking and talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as you love to see him thrive you will miss the days you spent nursing him, carrying him around everywhere you went and trying to interpret his cries and coo’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will need you less than he does now. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a matter of years… his days will be spent studying, playing and working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will be in quest of his identity and independence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He won’t need you as you does now.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In less time than you think… he will be having babies of his own and only occasionally calling with questions. He won’t need you as much as he does now.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I know these things because I am at already at the end of your life…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when your best days are behind you. When that little baby doesn’t need you the ways he does now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know that these exact moments that you are in a hurry to get through are the very moments that your heart will ache for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So right now, while you are in the midst of midnight feedings, changing dirty diapers and longing to just get past this season of life I beg of you, <b><i>be present</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never forget that what you hold in your arms is nothing short of a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Know that I am here and I am longing to hold his little fingers. I’ll never get those moments back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So treasure them while you can. Turn off the distractions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ignore the voices that try to tell you your fulfillment is elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because right now <i>he does need you</i>. These precious moments that he won‘t even remember, were created especially for you to enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be thankful for every moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are among the greatest gifts you will have in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Know that I am sitting here at the end of your life… and there is no where in the world I would rather be than where you are right now. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RwzB4NymFyrsl0f2jPPvuHspPuJsxeO9x0ls2prVa8jt_0vucfcICM4lzNsd_zsrxro9yjdA4sxUGFlEfIpbi9fRFntLPpO7utbimehGkqpA9GRJvhV8flCG45XsNS25h3Pw_n3vb5s/s1600/IMG_0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RwzB4NymFyrsl0f2jPPvuHspPuJsxeO9x0ls2prVa8jt_0vucfcICM4lzNsd_zsrxro9yjdA4sxUGFlEfIpbi9fRFntLPpO7utbimehGkqpA9GRJvhV8flCG45XsNS25h3Pw_n3vb5s/s1600/IMG_0615.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your Future self<o:p></o:p></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-30909926802880180992014-08-20T11:50:00.002-07:002014-08-20T11:50:26.724-07:00Dear Baby Marconi<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">You are nearly here and I can hardly wait to meet you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m assuming you’ll have gotten your long legs from me, because they haven’t let up for about 5 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m hoping you’ll get your daddy’s dimples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am absolutely certain that no matter how you come you will be perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">We have been working on your name for a long, long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both believe that there is great significance in a name and we wanted to give you one that would <i>best</i> suit our very <i>best</i> intentions of raising you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Easier said than done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will soon learn that we both value our heritage as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We finally made the decision to name you after a very special man, whom you will unfortunately not meet in this lifetime… <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I called him Daddy for 25 years before he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would have called him Papoo and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you would have adored him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would have rang the doorbell incessantly every time he arrived to play with you. He would have given you backflips into the pool and taught you how to play soccer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would have made you listen to his crazy Greek music and taught you some very interesting dance moves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would have been your <i>best </i>pal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">But as fun-loving as he was, the legacy he left behind is actually something of much more worth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The characteristics that made him a man worth remembering are the ones your dad and I hope to pass on to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hope and prayer is that as his name continues on through you, so too will his legacy…<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">He was brave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He left his country when he was 17 years old in hopes of finding better opportunities than he would have had otherwise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He left everything he knew and made a new life for himself in a country where no one spoke his language, where no one knew his family and where he had no advantages whatsoever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a big risk and it paid off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He supported a family of seven and had always been able to give us more than enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">He valued family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We used to laugh at the simplicity of his coined phrase, “Family is family.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Us kids in our far superior English-speaking skills couldn’t understand the depth in this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in getting to know him as an adult we came to see how much he sacrificed to protect not only our family of seven, but every in-law, cousin, aunt and uncle we acquired as we grew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the <i>best </i>ways he did this was by showing us that there is freedom in forgiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the big things and in the small things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better still to find that the freedom comes much more to the one who is giving it than those receiving it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">He showed us the strength of a servant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved having a full house of people; family, friends and all their kids. He always served up huge feasts and he usually cleaned up the mess too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hand-crafted our entire yard complete with vineyard covered patios, swings, a pool and a bi-level tree house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He served and always put others first, expecting very little in return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">He taught us the treasure of simplicity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daddy accumulated almost nothing of his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except a HUGE VHS library of movies he taped from the TV and he had his own area called “behind the bar” which was strictly off limits to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always believed that was where he kept his best hidden treats and secrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After he passed away and we had to go through his things, we found that his best hidden secrets and most valuable items were simple things like medals we had won, school books, cards we had written him when we were little, family albums and a few things he had brought from Greece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kept everything! And none of it had any monetary value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a simple man who lived a life of true abundance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">He loved our mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was fiercely loyal to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He respected her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He protected her heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never stopped trying to win her over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a father of five girls, there is no better way that he could have loved us than by giving us a shining example of what we should look for and expect in a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful to him for the part he played in making sure I ended up with your dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your dad is such a good man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves me so well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know you will learn from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aristotelis, his name and now yours, means <i>“the best of the best” </i>and that is truly what he was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we hope all of the very <i>best</i> things in life for you too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as I loved him and want to honour him by naming our first-born son after him I want you to know one more thing about your Papoo…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It actually wasn’t my idea or my insistence that you have his name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was actually <i>your</i> dad who knew him only a few years, who adamantly refused any other name I suggested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone loved your Papoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone will love you too… so welcome to the world baby “Teli.”</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQW_xQxzHwSDuJ1ors_VS5QQ5l4UnxUttqNeLkrjhRI6CaZcbdcGEEzfrwfJjIze0O0v8ASEXmuUvsNQYBaPUvnE1kc4rJ7zejESQfvuLJhE8SOyg_AS0GzZU68Bf0MYjj-tjhqmH55w/s1600/793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQW_xQxzHwSDuJ1ors_VS5QQ5l4UnxUttqNeLkrjhRI6CaZcbdcGEEzfrwfJjIze0O0v8ASEXmuUvsNQYBaPUvnE1kc4rJ7zejESQfvuLJhE8SOyg_AS0GzZU68Bf0MYjj-tjhqmH55w/s1600/793.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-49546356026756611002014-08-20T11:49:00.001-07:002014-08-20T11:49:17.142-07:00Greece - A long way home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJDOVce1TqYz23f73JBI0OS3sevXKcUYsjAOCmQ-LmASZrwP35xeERlPj3cd8TARbY8rjH3nwRAyW9WRoIO3_ai5Iz2o-BhX9XC006HZ7_CblwJN2X88g2bzEs-LxJ4iLT6p3-S1r2nc/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJDOVce1TqYz23f73JBI0OS3sevXKcUYsjAOCmQ-LmASZrwP35xeERlPj3cd8TARbY8rjH3nwRAyW9WRoIO3_ai5Iz2o-BhX9XC006HZ7_CblwJN2X88g2bzEs-LxJ4iLT6p3-S1r2nc/s1600/003.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">All my life I heard about the country my dad loved. I heard about the sea, the land and the people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that it was a huge part of him thus making it a part of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew he would have loved to take me there himself… and I knew that even after he died, I absolutely had to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The moment I arrived I felt like I was home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the busy streets of Athens and Kalamata to the quiet shores of Avia, I found my dad everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw his peculiarity in the mopeds that flew past us with giant cooler chests strapped to the back seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw his high-spirits in my cousin who kept time to the music by swinging his arm outside of the window and slapping the top of the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw my dad’s signature handiwork in the land he once tended to and the house he once built. But mostly I saw him in the hearts of the people there, the other ones that he left behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People whom I had never met, who loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People who would open their hearts and homes and give the very best they had for one of “Telly’s little girls.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I had to pick only two characteristics about my dad that impacted me the most they would be his ability to give and his value of family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the past week I saw that this legacy had been written on more hearts than just his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never got to meet his parents; my Papoo and Yaya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I feel like I know them in a small way because of the trends I have seen in their children and grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so incredibly grateful to at least know this much.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I went to the mountain village where he grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw his old school and the olive orchards he worked in as a young boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard stories for the first time about what he was like before he moved to Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to know my dad in a entirely new way and my perspective on his life has been drastically changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a number of years I have secretly wondered why he didn’t take more chances or try to break out of a small-minded mentality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me it always seemed he didn’t believe that his dreams could actually come true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the small village of Agia Anna, as I walked through the house he grew up in I realized that he did dream big and he made all of his dreams come true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of those dreams would have been to have a nice house in a safe neighbourhood for his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another would have been to give us a pool and a tree house and a big yard to play in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another still would have been to have his own garden and vineyard to give us good produce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And finally he would have wanted me to have dreams that were bigger than his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of which came true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until I saw his beginning that I truly recognized all that he accomplished in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for that in a new way he has become my hero again. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">This trip has so far been everything I had hoped it would be and even more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The islands were breath-taking and our historical value unlike anything I have seen before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know my dad would have been so happy to see me falling in love with his country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But probably more than anything else that I love here, I love the family that I have met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that I would love them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that even if I didn’t understand them or the differences that defined us, I would love them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when we said our good-byes a little piece of my heart stayed there with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it has always belonged there.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-88564541837491020742014-08-20T11:49:00.000-07:002014-08-20T11:49:05.990-07:00Tribute to my mother-in-law<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s what I have been privileged to call her since <i>before</i> the day I married her son… and I have not been the only one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside from her four boys she has actually been “mama” to countless neighbourhood kids and international students throughout the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her door and her heart always, always open - to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">She is steadfast, loyal and unswerving in faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True to the bit o’ Ireland in ‘er… and maybe even a wee bit fiery when the day calls for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is precious… and she is one of the strongest women I know. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I watch her interact with her sons and I know there can’t a weak bone in her body. She don’t take no guff from nobody! Perhaps that’s the only way she survived four boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet at the same time, she is just the truest and gentlest form of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“mother.” I know that because of her boys and their unreserved love for her. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She has an uncanny ability to listen to what hasn’t been said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She listens with both ears if you know what I mean… and recognizes the struggling emotions underneath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her children know that she is listening - really listening… and it matters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is just one of the many ways that she has, without any conscious effort, taught me how to better love her son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In times when I haven’t known how to help him, I would invite her over and just quietly observe how she loves him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She teaches me much more than she knows. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">She is a woman of great faith in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her relationship with Him is in no way put on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His love is very evident in her life… as she constantly allows Him to move through her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know she prays for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know she takes her concerns to Him instead of trying to fix things on her own. In doing so she shows her respect for our relationship and her trust in a very real and very big God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t get to choose her as a mother-in-law… but I would have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I count her more than once when I count my blessings.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy birthday Mama!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Love you.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbfo1_czAmrGdIMKt-j7ZvDg5YA-C_9gHzztQyG5XeXRZCTWYkvFcfLadQR_nPczliVbY_KRSswbionP2l1JzomAIO88AVIs0nNhyphenhyphen9pQmA0WUqumW2e9amg-xcHVEVUks6neVm3d2XFE/s1600/120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbfo1_czAmrGdIMKt-j7ZvDg5YA-C_9gHzztQyG5XeXRZCTWYkvFcfLadQR_nPczliVbY_KRSswbionP2l1JzomAIO88AVIs0nNhyphenhyphen9pQmA0WUqumW2e9amg-xcHVEVUks6neVm3d2XFE/s1600/120.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-89250287898607471252014-08-20T11:48:00.002-07:002014-08-20T11:48:49.589-07:00Plank in my Eye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=DJDZjhpOtul4uM&tbnid=xL9cHncgu7tVOM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fneuething.org%2Fhttp%3A%2Fneuething.org%2Ftake-the-plank-out-of-your-own-eye%2F&ei=zD_VU6uiIsKkyASR6IG4Cg&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNGJJYDdlHUZJiF5BNZ1OyVeMuic4A&ust=1406570818351084" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img class="irc_mut" height="282" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTWWLCX61Heo3lxAQslczp9MccEjS4jEYOGevDicdxa6R-VJOVIdw" style="margin-top: 217px;" width="425" /></a></div>
<div class="irc_mutc">
</div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It had not been a good day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dark grey clouds overhead reflected my mood perfectly. I just needed to pick up a few more things, get through this ridiculously long checkout line and then I could finally head home, crumple into the tub and pretend the whole day didn’t happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So when I saw them out of the corner of my eye… well, I think I may have actually whimpered out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew them from church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were the emotionally needy type and I had never seemed to have enough patience for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had served alongside them for a few years up until about a year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t actually seen them in a long time and I knew a conversation would be awkward at best…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I did what any good “church-going” person would do, I picked up the first magazine I saw (I think it was Cosmo) and held it directly in front of my face, hoping and praying that they wouldn’t see me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether they did or not, I’ll probably never know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They left the store, I put down my guide to great sex and cut in front of an old lady to get to the next cashier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cashier was just ringing up my receipt when I happened to look out to the parking lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The couple was crossing over a speed bump with all of their parcels in tow and the woman tripped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t see her fall so I didn’t think much of it as I thanked the cashier and collected my bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as I made my way to the exit I saw that the woman had actually dropped her groceries which now lay scattered all over the pavement and her husband was flailing his arms around wildly and yelling at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was more than a little shocked and I noticed that a lot of people around me were too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This man, that I knew, was causing a real scene.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">For a minute I considered walking back into the store with a made up list of things I forgot to buy but I just wanted to get home so badly that I didn’t even care if I’d have to walk right past them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another man from the front of the store threatened to call the police because things were getting so out of hand. The woman just stood there, with half a carton of eggs at her feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could almost feel the embarrassment that flushed her cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in a split second decision I was halfway across the parking lot, avoiding the scene entirely, like some sort of Pharisee on Sunday - I had somewhere important to be!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to my utter dismay, it turned out that my car was parked directly beside their car and they were going to get there right before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Left with no other choice I walked straight towards them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was still yelling at her about the broken eggs but when he looked up and recognized me he stopped dead in his tracks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell they were both waiting for me to say something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, being fully aware of the crowd behind us, just cast him a disproving glare and raised my chin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got in my car and drove away without one word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I pulled out of the parking lot I tried to convince myself that my actions hadn’t been quite so awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there was a lump (about the size of an egg) in my throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And before I knew it there were tears spilling down my cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about this couple who hadn’t been to church in a long time, and who probably needed their broken eggs more than I needed anything in my bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No my response hadn’t been awful… it had been worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good, non-judging person would have stopped to see if they were doing okay, or even offered to replace a few groceries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that I did do, was ensure that he knew that I felt that he was beneath me. In that moment of truth as both of my hands clutched the steering wheel, I saw in myself someone who I was very ashamed of…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How quickly we forget the judgement that has been cleared for us, when we get the opportunity to judge another.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” Matthew 7:3-5<o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-19588096944197437042014-08-20T11:48:00.001-07:002014-08-20T11:48:34.878-07:00Worship in the Wreckage<br />
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
“In Christ alone, my hope is found. </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
He is my light, my strength, my song. </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
This cornerstone, this solid ground. </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.</h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
What heights of love, what depths of peace. </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease.</h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> My comforter, my all in all. </h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: right;">
Here in the love of Christ I stand.”<o:p></o:p></h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was a sight I would love to forget; an etching in my minds eye that I hoped time would erase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There lay the man I had always called my Daddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or at least there lay the wretched inhuman version of his now disease-stricken body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was propped up in the starch white hospital bed and his eyes sank so deep into his skull I wasn’t sure if he could even see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My stomach seemed to turn completely upside-down at the sight before my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely, this couldn’t be the same strong man who once perched me high above his shoulders, and made cyclones in our pool, and built a tree house that had made all the neighbourhood kids jealous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Daddy had always been so full of life;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>dancing to his crazy Greek music, repeatedly ringing the doorbell to announce his arrivals, and riling up our dog. He was the one cheering loudest (and most embarrassingly) at all our sporting events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he walked into a room where he was known, people literally applauded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just three years earlier when he walked me down the aisle he had been so strong and vibrant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was my Daddy and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was his “Goofy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This man before me now was barely a shadow of the one I knew so well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood there unwilling, unable to believe that this was really happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment the walls seemed to close around me and I couldn’t breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly understood why some people hated hospitals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had only just arrived but I knew I needed to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>how much I loved my dad, I could not see him like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would not see him like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for the next five days as his health rapidly deteriorated I did everything in my power to stay away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This had gone on for a few days, when I realized that my actions had been affecting the rest of my family who refused to leave him unattended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom hadn’t slept for days, or even months depending on how you looked at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So finally I offered to spend a night with him in the hospital so she could get some rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think my youngest sister Becca knew that this would be difficult for me because she insisted on staying with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t have been more grateful, especially once we learned what the night had in store for us…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It turned out to be his worst night; far worse than any of us could have imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a disillusioned frenzy he screamed for hours on end as if he were living a nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t know who we were; he repeatedly exposed himself and ripped out his catheter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nurses had nothing to ease his pain or calm his nerves and eventually they just stopped responding to our calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister and I were at a complete loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite our best efforts we could not in any way better his situation yet we were forced to sit there and watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We held one another and cried as his torture rampaged on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">And then, from somewhere deep inside of me rose a voice to sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the last thing my heart wanted to do. I had been so angry, and scared and empty all at the same time for weeks, months even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for some reason, I knew it was what I needed to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A strength more resilient than my despair pressed through and with a staggered breath I sang the first few stanzas to one of my favourite songs, “In Christ alone.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hardly a moment passed when an indescribable peace settled over the room and I no longer felt at loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weights of stress and fear that I had been carrying seemed to fall right off my shoulders and I no longer felt the need to handle the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am certain that I entered a time of worship unlike anything I had ever experienced, and that time of worship brought acceptance and understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere in my sub-conscious I stopped believing that all <i>would be </i>well and I started to believe that all <i>was</i> well right then in that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the midst of such pain and loss I recognized that we weren’t alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We never had been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just that this was the first time I was actually focused on God and the fact that He is good, He works all things together for good and He never changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad had stopped screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He rested his head and closed his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Becca joined in when I switched to hymns like “Tis so sweet” and “Amazing Grace”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea how long this lasted but before I knew it my mom entered the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been unable to sleep and wanted to spend the night with him after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Becca gathered up our things I leaned over his bed, kissed him on the forehead and told him that I loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I started to rise I heard his whisper, “I love you too, Goofy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later I realized that this was our last lucid moment together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was gone less than 24 hours later. </span></span></div>
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=HNFFNupQMbiDDM&tbnid=r4eFJfotLlr_1M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dreamstime.com%2Fstock-photos-hospital-walkway-image9231763&ei=-TnVU57FGMebyASfgYGwCQ&bvm=bv.71778758,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNG7tyHDOsWWlakKkmPeeCDiy1DcDA&ust=1406569333275264" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="irc_mutc">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">And now, just over a year later I recognize how much of a gift that seemingly horrible night was for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Up until that point I had never felt so completely useless in a situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was there that I truly learned to rest in the everlasting arms of my Saviour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As far back as I can remember<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have had a heart for worship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was there, in the wreckage of my wishes, that I truly understood <i>the </i>heart of worship - which would give Christ my complete focus regardless of the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And perhaps, the greatest gift for me that night, was to know that my daddy, a relatively new believer of Christ had learned both of these incredible truths with me…</span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br /></div>
<div class="irc_mutc">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157815131619383139.post-91263436714386910712014-07-27T10:23:00.000-07:002014-07-27T11:31:27.685-07:00Where Redemption Waits<i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></o:p></span></i><br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
“Nothing keeps us so lonely as our secrets.” </h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Paul Tournier</h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On the
Niagara escarpment, just past Stoney Creek Ontario, there is a lookout platform
at the Devil’s Punch Bowl conservation area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From this point there is a breathtaking view of a 37 metre high
waterfall over stratified rock that was said to have been formed at the end of
the last ice age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you enjoy the
outdoors, I highly recommend that you check it out - it is a truly stunning
sight to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also at this lookout
point, there is a 10 metre high steel cross complete with 106 light bulbs that
was erected in 1966 by a man named William Sinclair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His reason for establishing the cross? To
bring a little more light to the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And so it shines, and can be seen for miles on a dark night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the foot of this cross is where my story
begins...</span><br />
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">…</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="2tERR5__i4ve4M:" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" style="cursor: move; height: 171px; margin-top: 0px; width: 113px;" unselectable="on" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The arches
of my feet pierced with excruciating pain as I trudged up the snow-covered
pathway -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in ¾ inch heels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh yeah! There I was hiking up the Niagara
Ridgeway in the middle of January sometime after 1 o’clock in the morning
-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in heels!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, fine, at that height they don’t
technically warrant as heels - but it‘s not like they were hiking boots either!
Even if they had been, by that point I was hardly consolable and I was tired of
being polite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay, this is ridiculous!
I have to wake up early to sing at church in the morning -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and I’m wearing a dress Cam!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m wearing a dress - and heels - and it’s
like -10 degrees out here! Can we please just turn around and go home? ” I
heard my own pathetic beg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took three
more giant steps before he triumphantly announced. “Here we are! Just check out
the view! Don‘t you think this was worth the trek up here?” he asked as he
rubbed up and down my arms in attempt to keep them warm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let the silence settle for about one
minute before I answered. “Yup, terrific! Can we go now?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a deep breath and let out a long
exaggerated sigh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sorry Babe. This
wasn’t exactly like I planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
really wanted to bring you up here, for a special purpose… I wanted to ask you
something” he began as he slowly lowered to one knee…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My heart
lurched in my chest. No! No! This wasn’t happening! Not yet! I hadn’t had the
chance to tell him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I… I hadn’t even
tried to tell him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was nearly
twenty-one years old and we had been dating for exactly one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had surprised me by repeating our first date;
the Toronto Boat show, dinner at a jazz club and now a midnight stop at the old
cross off Centennial Parkway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything
had indeed been lovely but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in the months
leading up to this night I had absolutely no inclination that we had gotten
this serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t even considered
the idea of marriage yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t ready
for this decision. I wasn’t ready for honesty!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And then suddenly before I could stop it, I was sub-consciously dragged
back to the darkest, loneliest and most hideous part of my life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A part I had been desperately trying to leave
behind…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
lights were off, because I insisted it this way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was heavy; he was heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there was that old familiar darkness
creeping in through the closed door, up the bed and into my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it well. It was thrill and dread;
victory and defeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the beast
that took up residence inside of me, coursing through my veins and hauling my
body through the motions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was master;
I was slave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, I knew it well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had made acquaintance a long time
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like a constant companion to
me; always there, just lurking in the corners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And now, here I was feebly attempting to temporarily satisfy an
unquenchable thirst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in a dark
smelly apartment, with a guy that I hardly knew, who I wasn’t even remotely
attracted to and I was cheating on my boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated my weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated that I could not see past the
fulfillment of my lust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated the fact
that sooner or later the beast inside of me always got its way…</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Babe… Did
you hear me?” Cam said with a nervous chuckle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My thoughts raced back to the present, to the man on one knee, waiting
for an answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I… I don’t know what to
say.” I finally choked out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which was of
course true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was I supposed to say “Yes,
a thousand times, yes!” and just bury the darkness deep into my past?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was, after all, definitely in the
past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that a lot had changed in
six months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But… I guess not
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Otherwise I would have been able
to tell him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what then? Was I
supposed to tell him the whole truth now, after he had gone to all these
lengths to create a perfect moment? Would he understand? I had never wanted to
hurt him, there was just something wrong with me on a very deep level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It went back as far as I could remember.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Despite the
fact that I had grown up in a happy, healthy Christian home, I guess I had
figured out at a young age that I was something of a cardinal sinner. I
believed with all of my heart that I didn’t truly belong to the “club” that my
family met with every Sunday because I wasn’t really that good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know when this belief started to take
root.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe in the Sunday school room
when I didn’t know all of the answers, or because I made faces at the girls who
sat perfectly proper in their pretty little dresses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe because in our family, I was always
the instigator; the “common denominator” in every argument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe it was just because of the fact that
even when I tried my best to be good, I still fell short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I got older, this belief only made room
for more secrets and addictive behaviours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe this wasn’t all that irregular to most girls my age but I lived in
a world where make out scenes were fast-forwarded, the word “sex” was worse
than the “F” bomb and little girls just didn’t have dirty thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t stand a chance! I was already
guilty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I did the only thing I knew
how, I pretended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had always been a
good pretender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked so hard to
appear holy like everyone else, but inside I knew the truth and it bore heavy
on my shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept my secrets and I
thought that was the best option but in effect no one knew how broken I
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least not until I ran up a long
list of boyfriends, hook-ups and flings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By then no one could help me anyways.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I gulped in
the frosty night wind and forced myself to focus on the present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cam was exactly the type of man that I
needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He challenged me to reach for
higher goals and he stood by me while I stumbled towards them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He laughed when I barked (if you catch my
drift) and he truly, absolutely loved God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In short he was exactly what I had always wanted… but <b><i>I</i></b>
wasn’t what I wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt deeper in
that dark, dank pit than I had ever felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I desperately needed a way out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And here was my knight in shining armour, patiently waiting for an
answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swallowed the lump in my
throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I would still tell him
some day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for now, he would be my
resolution. I wasn’t doing anything differently, this was who I was, who I had
always been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just had issues that no
one knew about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would never cheat on
him again… if I could manage that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Surely I could manage that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I looked him in the eye and I told him yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would marry him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would continue to live this lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But things would be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t have to deal with it all alone
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes” was definitely the right
answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proudly placed a beautiful
ring on my finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it should have
been such a perfect moment to be remembered for the rest of our lives but for
me it was stained with regret.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
following eight months flew by with wedding preparations and renovations on the
condo we had purchased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the most
part I stumbled along with the plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was truly the busiest time of my life, which was good because it left little
time for me to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But every so
often, on a restless night, I would find myself staring up at the ceiling and
desperately wishing for a way out of it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry Cam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more fear that he wouldn’t want to marry
me if he knew who I really was and what I had done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This fear choked the excitement right out of
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as the countdown began the fear
only intensified until eventually I didn’t want the celebration anymore, I didn’t
want the flowers or the dress or the little white chapel… I just wanted to know
- I needed to know that Cam loved me for who I really was,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a twenty-one year old girl with much more
baggage than he knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as my resolve
settled, I knew that I really loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps I had never really understood love before then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I loved him enough to let him know the
truth even if it cost our future together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even if it meant that all the gifts would have to be returned and that
most everyone else who had been invited would find out why we had really called
it off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, it wasn’t even until that
moment, that I realized the position I had put him in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My secrecy, which had only ever<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>been constructed to protect myself, would
actually be wounding someone else deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was time to tell him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
needed some time alone with God first… I was certain I didn’t possess the
wisdom or the strength to do this on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What I didn’t realize, was that God had been sitting there waiting for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He planned to do a lot more than
just grant me the wisdom and the strength to talk to Cam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God was about to change my life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Over the
next few weeks in the early hours of each morning I met with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the beginning I was afraid of Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put on my “Sunday best” attitude and still
did a lot of pretending even though I knew He already knew everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure I looked an awful lot like Adam and
Eve as they tried to hide behind their fig leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But every single day God showed me one thing,
and He showed me over and over again in a million different ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He showed me that He loved me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That even with all of my faults, weaknesses
and failures I was like a radiant, holy and beautiful bride to Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this love had absolutely nothing to do
with my ability to be good or because of any good thing I had ever done in my
entire lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had everything to
do with Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I had grown up
in the church, I had head-knowledge of this since I was a kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for the first time in my life my heart
and my head were speaking the same language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As each day grew into the next, I started to feel more comfortable to
let Him into deeper parts of my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like the skins of an onion, He was peeling off one layer at a time of
the relational walls I had put up between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I started to understand that His love for me and the fact that He lived
inside of me was the only reason why I was even capable of doing anything
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that freedom is found in
relationship with Him and the relationship doesn’t come simply because one
spends hours in devotion or prayer with Him. Degrees of relationship with God
are no different than the degrees of relationship between humans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It comes from an understanding of how deeply
you are accepted and loved. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Finally,
one morning I felt God telling me that it was time to say good-bye to my
constant companion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Darkness and light
cannot co-exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except the darkness
wasn’t the bad thing I had done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
darkness was my belief that I could make myself holy, whether by good deeds,
lack of bad deeds or just a mask I tried to hide behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I had to go straight into the centre
of my pain to be done with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to
come to the end of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked for
forgiveness for the sin that encompasses all sin; having a god that was other
than the true God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had believed that I
could somehow earn my own righteousness (even if that meant living with secrets
and avoiding the truth.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly
understood that it is my freedom from this sin of believing I can make myself
holy, that enables me to live free of the sins that held me so tightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that moment of repentance, I knew I would
never see that darkness again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something
else had filled my soul where that aching thirst had been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a joy that quenched every desire and
filled every crevice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the guilt was
gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no room for shame in the
arms of grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was finally whole and
assured of a love that would be more than enough for me for the rest of my
life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Later that
day, with the wedding less than one month away I asked Cam to come over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night, on my living room floor, I told
him my entire story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what
to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only knew to trust that God
would work everything out for His good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cam didn’t say anything at first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was like a stone, void of emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could only imagine how difficult this was for him to hear, about a
woman he thought he knew well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
finished my story and we just sat in silence for what seemed like an
eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally he said he would need
some time to deal with this and I said that would be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a deep breath, kissed me on the
forehead and turned to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not
before I saw the pain and betrayal that I knew he felt… the pain I had put
there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He didn’t
call the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what
else to do except pray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed for him
unlike any time I had ever before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
reminded myself that God was my source of happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My world would not shatter if Cam decided he
couldn’t accept my mistakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed
for the healing of his heart and I waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This went on for another four days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a single word was spoken between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By this time I was starting to lose hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was starting to wonder how he would call
off the wedding and how I would be able to tell everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about everything that I knew about
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that he had been stabbed in
the back before by business partners and friends and that hurt ran deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that he and I were very different in
the way we viewed other people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I easily
embraced people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not trust others
or let them in until they earned a place in his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to guess my response if the roles had
been reversed but of course, I had no idea how I would have reacted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t my heart that had been
broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By the
fifth day I had prepared myself for the worst, as best as I knew how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He called me during his lunch break and said
he would be by to pick me up when he was done work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the first time since we started dating, I
was ready when he arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He met me at
the door with a coldness, a distance that I had not experienced from him
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hardly said a word as we
walked to his car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Normally I would have
found something on the radio and put my feet up on the dash but that day I sat
with my hands awkwardly still on my lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Silence filled the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted
to ask where we were going but I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cam had grown up in the area and seemed to know all of the back roads to
any destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were out in the
country somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I allowed myself
to take in the scenery of the Niagara escarpment outside of my window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the
car finally came to a stop I suddenly realized where we were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the same conservation area he had
brought me to the night he had proposed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hadn’t recognized it because our first visit had been at night in the
dead of winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, now, I sat
momentarily transfixed at the kaleidoscope of nature and colours all around
me;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the rush of the waterfalls to my
left and the density of the brush to my right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Directly ahead was the lookout point; a bird’s eye view of Burlington
and Lake Ontario and looming large above it all, the old cross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without thinking I broke the silence, “This
is incredible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I remember from that
night was darkness and cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I
have missed this?” I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">“If I
remember correctly, you were a little preoccupied with all your complaints
about the despicable torture I was putting you through” he replied with a wry
smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cringed at the memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He held out his hand to help me over a large
fallen tree and he didn’t let go when I had safely crossed over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart leapt at the simple gesture that had
once been so easy between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He sighed
and turned to face me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wish I could
have talked to you earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
want to keep you waiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just… didn’t
know what to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing you could have
said that night would have surprised me more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I still don’t really know how to handle this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He absently thumbed circles on the back of my
hand as he tried to collect his thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Cam, I am so sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish more
than anything that I was someone else; that I didn’t have to put you through
this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ I don’t want anyone else.” He
cut in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“…I don’t want anyone else,”
slower this time and his eyes looked deep into mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still saw so much pain there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, what could I do? What could I say? But
it was he who spoke next, “I haven’t changed my mind about us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the unconditional part needs to come
before the vows, that’s fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll do
whatever it takes.” He said with eyes searching mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just can’t… I’m not very good at the
forgiving part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love you Steph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m still so angry… it’s not going
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I do trust you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it won’t happen again, but I still
have all these thoughts coming at me all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not strong enough to fight this on my
own.” He looked away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I just
stood there, shocked. How on earth had this turned into his problem; his guilt?
I was the one with the issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But</span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">then
it hit me like a load of bricks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
have the issues any longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guilt
and shame had been gone for weeks, since the very day I took it to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day I stopped trying to fix it on my
own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cam! You’re exactly right! You can’t
fight it on your own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried doing just
that every day of my life and that’s basically why we are standing here
today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We weren’t created to fix this on
our own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were created to know God’s
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was always so busy trying to
prove that I was worthy of God’s love; trying to make up for all my mistakes… I
completely missed the fact that He loved me first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you know… I think it was when I started
to really know His love that I was finally able to love Him back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped doing things out of
obligation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more like cause and
effect, I couldn’t help but love Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
just wanted to be with Him all the time… kind of like when I fell in love with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Cam stared
at me for a moment and then led me around to the lookout point so we could see
the whole picture before us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“None of
what you just said has been news to me… I’ve heard it all since I was a
kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But just now, it’s like my head and
my heart were speaking the same language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s so easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do we try to
make it complicated?” He asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don‘t
know.” I responded. “Maybe because then we would deserve some of the credit?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we just looked at one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feeling overwhelmed and awkward I turned back
to the lookout. “I still can’t believe I missed all of this that night, eight
months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so vibrant and alive…
maybe my perspectives have changed in more ways than one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so focused on the negative before.” I
turned to look at him but I was surprised to find that he wasn’t standing
beside me anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead he was behind
me and he was kneeling again on one knee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This time it really was perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There wasn’t a shadow of guilt to cloud the memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just a moment of love, a moment of
worship, a moment on bended knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
suddenly knew then that redemption had been waiting for me all along and I
found it there… at the foot of a cross.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></o:p></span><br />
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p></o:p>“Maybe redemption has stories to tell. Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. <o:p></o:p></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Where can you run to escape from yourself?” <o:p></o:p></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Switchfoot<o:p></o:p></h3>
<h4>
</h4>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04245206242971678192noreply@blogger.com0