tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45481743376586601062024-03-05T16:27:05.068-08:00Julie LuekAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-24201771566214997942016-11-19T09:13:00.000-08:002016-11-19T09:13:34.541-08:00 A Tête-à-tête About The "D" Word<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's a part of divorce I didn't really think about when I started this chapter in life: how willing people are to share their opinion of my decisions. I mean, I guess, yes, I knew people would have opinions, and I even realized I might lose a few "friends" in the process, but I didn't anticipate the subtle shaming that would come with my decisions.</div>
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Let me back up a bit.<br />
<br />
When the decision was made to part ways, I sought a full-time job. I am so very fortunate and forever grateful that I had a career in higher education to fall back on. I was able to obtain a job in the Denver area that I enjoy, supports me adequately, offers me great benefits, and surrounds me with smart and fun coworkers.<br />
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Fortunately, because I had dabbled in the writing world prior to moving, I knew a number of wonderfully talented writing folks in the Denver area. Phew! Connections! I "just happened" to guest write, every couple months, on the blog of one of these fun writers and had even profiled his book on my blog, without ever having met him. When I moved here, he offered his friendship and support as I made the transition, and like a good love story, the friendship slowly and patiently blossomed.<br />
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A year and a half later, he's now the carrots to my peas and we share living quarters. Sigh. I'm content-- for the first time in a long, long time, my heart is a peace. I laugh easily. I no longer feel alone or lonely. I like my career. I get to teach. I can make ends meet and even save a little. I like where I live. I'm making friends. I've even renewed and found peace with my faith and found a wonderful place to worship and connect. And I get to live with someone who I adore! I love a happy ending.<br />
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Then it happens. Like nails on a chalkboard, someone offers their well-meaning ideas about my life. I've honed my responses in hopes of cutting short the conversation I can predict will ensue:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
...No, I'm not married, and for now that's not the direction we want to go. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
...No, he's not particularly into church but we have more open conversations about our beliefs than I've ever had, and he supports me fully.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
...No, I didn't "date around" and try men on like shoes. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
...Yes, we've had to work hard at aspects of our relationship, unlearning habits, and I'm so very thankful he's the kind of man who will do that and still love me. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
...No, I don't think God has abandoned me. </blockquote>
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I even had one "friend" from Facebook (you know how those friendships go-- so many are not really friends but acquaintances of the past) send me a private message wanting to know why my ex and I broke up-- no thoughts of our well-being or inquiries about how we're doing-- just the dirt. Yuk. Needless to say, I cleaned out my friends' list shortly after that.<br />
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Worst-- and saddest--of all comments was from someone I formerly knew who told <i>my daughter</i> she thought "I just needed to come home, where I belong". While I find the other comments tedious and a product of personal perspective, and perhaps even well-meaning, this one made me angry. Her father and I never put the kids in the middle; why would someone else do that?<br />
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It's easy to say, "Don't worry about what they think...you're only accountable to you...it's your life...they won't have to answer for your decisions." I get all that. My cerebral processor understands.<br />
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But the heart struggles. I think what people may not understand--and certainly I didn't know pre-divorce-- is how little protective skin is left on the heart after a divorce. The healing takes a long time. These perhaps well-intended, but shaming remarks are already questions haunting me and ones I've wrestled with in my heart, and with God. So they are like well-aimed arrows that zing to the core of my own self-doubt.<br />
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I really don't want this to turn into a defensive rant, and I realize it's bordering on that. What I really wanted was to let anyone who may have gone through a divorce, be contemplating a divorce, or in the midst of the muck of one, know what I wish I had known: people might turn on you and use the very handle you are clinging to as a wordy weapon to try to convict you. It will happen. So many times it comes from a place of their own hurt or background-- maybe they are a child of divorce or in a painful relationship. I think sometimes it comes from a rigid place of legalism disguised as religion, or from their own convictions (they have a right to those, even if we don't agree!).<br />
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I'm not sure I have a lot of answers, and certainly thinking I can prevent those kinds of insensitive backlashes is foolish. But here is my list of...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Top Ten Post-Divorce Lessons </b> </div>
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<ol>
<li style="text-align: left;">Make healthy connections and new friends who aren't so curious about your past or determined to straighten out your future. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Cling to the friends who love <i>you</i>, no matter your decisions.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Nurture your interests and hobbies to remind yourself of your uniqueness and gifts. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Be open to hearing the wisdom of others, even if it stings a bit; we all need to grow and learn. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">But keep taking the steps that are <u>right for you</u>. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Trust the process. It <i>is</i> a process--sometimes harsh--but the personal growth and self-discovery are invaluable.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Let it grow compassion and insight in you--you just may be the healing balm another heart desperately needs.</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Try to avoid resentment and anger. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">And remember, you're not alone.<i> </i></li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Most importantly:<i> Cling to what you believe and talk privately to the One who feeds your soul and heart; let that Source guide you.</i></li>
</ol>
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In the meantime, if you need a virtual hug or listening ear, send me an email. I'll read without judgment. I promise. I'll even celebrate with you as you travel a road to healing and wholeness.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-10854532521857744642016-10-27T15:43:00.002-07:002016-10-27T16:10:03.084-07:00Feeling BlueCan we talk colors? Four, to be exact.<br />
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I teach a course at a community college designed to introduce students to the wide world of college. The content includes college success skills and a bit of career counseling, among other topics. One of the assessments we use to help students learn more about their personalities and how it may relate to potential careers is the <i>True Colors Test</i>. Now for you personality assessment junkies (and who isn't?), this instrument uses the principles of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator, which is based on the theories of Karl Jung's personality types. I won't bore you with it all, but essentially Karl Jung believed that there were "temperaments" or types of personalities. Isabel Myers and Katherine Briggs (a mother and daughter team during the 50's-- not really the most supportive decade for women so let's give them a rousing round of kudos) developed an instrument that refined the theory into 16 types of personalities. The <i>True Colors Test</i> is an offshoot of this that simplifies the "types" by eliminating a few categories (introvert/extrovert). Still with me? It doesn't really matter. Keep reading.<br />
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As part of my training to teach this section of the course, I had to participate in a True Colors workshop. Sign me up. I totally geek out on this kind of stuff. I was really hoping to learn something about myself I didn't know. Alas, at 52, it seems there isn't much about myself I don't know. My results were predictable.<br />
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You can take the test <a href="https://www.gsgatl.org/for-volunteers/volunteer-leadership-conference/Documents/True%20Colors%20Test.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>-- it's the same version I took. It will explain the results which boil down to four colors:<br />
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Okay, now to get to the point of this post. I want to be an orange. Oranges are Tiggers! They are fun, fun, fun. They are spontaneous and bold. They are active and optimistic. Oranges are the life of the party. They "bring excitement to society"! I want to be this person!<br />
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I am not.<br />
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I'm a blue. I knew it when I was taking the darn assessment. I was going to be the nurturer. I would need harmony. I would be a heart-follower. I would be forever in search of myself. Sigh. Not that there's anything wrong with this. I mean, yes, we blues are likable; we're peace-makers; yeah, yeah, yeah. All warm and fuzzy-like. I want to be dashing and exciting.<br />
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But I suppose there's some good that comes out of this. I'm adaptable. This has come in handy over the last couple of years. I need opportunities to be creative and seek that out (however, I'm not bold or orange enough to let my creative light shine too much). <br />
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Oh, but good heavens, the drawback is I'm forever introspective and in search of myself. I can get lost in the dusty caverns of my mind, which is sometimes not the best place to hang out. Trust me. To make matters worse, my second highest color is gold. We are the conventional backbone of society and adhere to structure and schedules well. We are values and order. Seriously? This is the opposite of exciting and spontaneous. I feel boring. And safe. I am forever the people-pleaser and rule-follower. Just... SIGH.<br />
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But here's the good news. Taking this little inventory and knowing thyself isn't a life sentence. We can learn to let our lessor colors shine a bit. So I'm going to work on actively putting a little spit n' polish on my orange. I'll never be a complete convert; I doubt I'll ever "thrive on crisis". But I am going to actively be more aware of being in the moment, being a little less concerned and uptight about what others think. The Squeeze is a great partner in this effort. Although I don't think he's an orange either, he does bring me a great deal of fun and gently encourages me (sometimes not so gently) to not be so worried about convention or what others think. He takes chances and lets his creative light shine. Yes, this is living!<br />
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I know I can never shake who I am, nor do I want to. Shakespeare had a good point: to thine own self be true. And let's be honest, I don't really have a choice because to quote another famous character: I yam what I yam. And that's OK.<br />
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But let this serve as a warning, dear blog readers: I might let a little bit of audacious and stunning orange show up from time to time. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-7040479110011553832016-10-24T13:27:00.000-07:002016-10-24T13:27:04.658-07:00Starting Over<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think I must be crazy. What was I thinking to leave a perfectly stable life with a nice house and nice life? At fifty, no less! I guess I wanted more. Nice isn't bad; it just doesn't feel vital. You don't hear <i>passion </i>or <i>living fully</i> or <i>thriving</i> in "nice". You hear good enough, mediocre, surviving.<br />
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I don't think I would have had the courage to move out and on if it hadn't been for a couple of hard years wearing down my resistance and fight. To recap the two years I now refer to as <i>My Life As A Country Song-- </i>and to catch you up-- my son had cancer, my "baby" graduated from high school, I was lonely, the dog died, and my body betrayed me with a potentially life-threatening, big-assed words disease. Let the music twang. I was done.<br />
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I won't go tabloid on you about why I left: I refuse to be one of those those people who publicly bashes their ex. (A side tangent: how can people do that in social media? Publicly? With potential friends, family, and kids reading their words? Have we lost a sense of decency? Kindness? Privacy? Tangent end.) The fight to hang on and save a marriage was gone from me. Sometimes your heart just has to wave the white flag and realize the other side walked away from the battle long ago. It's over. Make your choices.<br />
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So I did.<br />
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That was two years ago, and that's where this blog picks up. I sometimes feel very alone in this new life, my path obscured by a dense fog of unknowing, stumbling, wondering what the heck I'm doing-- faking it as I go along. But I can't be the only one determined to find joy, and redefine the person I really envision myself to be. There must be others out there like me, who want to be able to laugh, ponder, and see the humor and be okay with the fright in moving forward with absolutely no recognizable map. I can't be alone in my crazy...can I?<br />
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So that's how I move forward with this blog. A conversation of like-minds. So let's talk. Let's dance. And let's be a little less alone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-75067397823596054282015-02-11T09:45:00.000-08:002015-02-11T12:51:16.489-08:00That's Amore!<div class="WordSection1">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://all-free-download.com/</span></i></td></tr>
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Ahhhh love. Doesn’t Valentine’s Day and the approach of
spring, just make you want to burst with clichés and sappy songs about love? Not
so much?<o:p></o:p><br />
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I can relate. I’ve certainly had my recent confrontation with
the utter failure of love. But, as the saying goes, “hope springs eternal”, and
just when I think this is a concept better left to that which I share with my
kids and furry animals, little wafts of sweet affection are gifted to me and I
start to believe again. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Almost everyone has an opinion or thought about love in all its splendor and glory--especially those in the limelight. What is it about being a celebrity that turns a person into
an instant philosopher, as if their entire life-experience is an E. F. Hutton
moment? I don’t know honestly, but alas, in the spirit of the holiday, here are a few quotes from famous folks
about the subject of passion. See if you can guess the authors (I’ll reveal the
answers at the end of the post):</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
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1. “You know when you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”<br />
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2. “True love cannot be found where it does not truly exist; nor can it be hidden where it does.” <br />
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3. “Sexiness wears thin after a while and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that’s a real treat.” <br />
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4. “Only time can heal your broken heart, just as only time can heal his broken arms and legs.” <br />
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5. “If dreams give you power, then I’m strong enough to walk through my heart till you love me.” <br />
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6. “Girls bored me, they still do. I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I’ve ever known."<br />
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7. “Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.”<br />
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a. Katherine Hepburn b. David Schwimmer c. Dr. Seuss d. Walt Disney <br />
<div>
e. Reba McEntire f. Joanne Woodward g. Miss Piggy<br />
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There are as many thoughts and feelings on love is there are
people willing to talk about the state of the heart. Love between family,
love-gone-wrong, twisted love, supernatural love, divine love—you name it—love
has been the subject, in one form or another, of history, books, movies, songs,
poetry, art, religion, and even crime. It’s as basic to our human needs as food and
water. No wonder we give it so much thought.<br />
<br />
When it’s good, it’s oh so good.
But when it’s gone-wrong or just gone, it can rip a cavern-sized hole in our
hearts that hurts worse than almost any physical pain. I certainly don’t have any answers or profundity about love;
I’m the least likely to give advice. But I do have the hope and belief that
love—from friends, God, family, and yes, maybe even that sticky-sweet romantic
kind, will prevail in my life.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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So consider this bit of sentimental contemplation my Valentine's Day card to you. Wherever you’re at in
the process of defining, finding, or healing from love, may the warmth of
friends, the affection of family, the gentleness of the divine, and maybe even
the allure of romance be yours this holiday.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<i>OK the answers:</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>1. Dr. Suess (And it didn't even rhyme!)</i></div>
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<i>2. David Schwimmer (Huh? He shouldn't give up his day job to be a philosopher.)</i></div>
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<i>3. Joanne Woodward (I have to second this quote-- love a man who can make me laugh.)</i></div>
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<i>4. Miss Piggy (HIYAHHH!)</i></div>
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<i>5. Reba McEntire (Didn't this just sound like a twangin' country song?)</i></div>
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<i>6. Walt Disney (A give-away, but truly, the man needed to get out more.)</i></div>
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<i>7. Katharine Hepburn (Never one to do or say what was expected.)</i><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-26645379652523372392015-02-05T05:05:00.000-08:002015-02-05T05:05:22.274-08:00Negative Thinking Snuggies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIE4eEwvsTYidcSQ9Spgc-L7xYNN5VAkA679SqEHQoSvBniJRx7oVC9d-hDKeq-gAluTVwpmH4pzqeRxibH-F_CCg-VvXwX8ZCflZXrXZ7VLzLj8xon0WAIe12W92S-Y0Q2lUFxzdwPLgI/s1600/sad+eeyore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIE4eEwvsTYidcSQ9Spgc-L7xYNN5VAkA679SqEHQoSvBniJRx7oVC9d-hDKeq-gAluTVwpmH4pzqeRxibH-F_CCg-VvXwX8ZCflZXrXZ7VLzLj8xon0WAIe12W92S-Y0Q2lUFxzdwPLgI/s1600/sad+eeyore.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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Give me a show of hands: How many of you, every new year or perhaps every Monday, vow to start a healthier eating or working out regiment? (Ooo me, me!) I'll be honest, I know the choices I need to be making to be healthy, fit, and feel better in those damn skinny jeans I bought a couple weeks ago in an impulse indulgence of my midlife crisis (but let's not get into <i>that)</i>. Ahem. Anyway, it’s easier to resort to foods I find comforting—basically anything carb or sugar based-- than try to change my habits. Comfort foods are like a drug on my brain, wrapping my psyche in a cozy endorphin Snuggie.<br />
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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the solace we find in
our habits. As Edgar Rice Burroughs
said, “We are, all of us, creatures of habit, and when the seeming necessity
for schooling ourselves in new ways ceases to exist, we fall naturally and
easily into the manner and customs which long usage has implanted ineradicably
within us.” That’s a lot of fancy wordsmithin’ for saying it’s easier to nestle
into our comfort zone, even if that’s not the healthiest or happiest option. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But more insidious than the in-your-face behavioral habits we
cling to, are the more subtle attitudes and emotions that almost become a part of our personality. Negative Eeyore habits remind me of a pair of sweats I own: the elastic
is so worn out they slip off me; they have a hole melted into them where I
stood too close to the wood burner stove one time, and they have zippers around the ankles (I know; dated fashion statement right there) that scratch my legs. But they're so comforting to slip on, I'm loathe to part with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In my<a href="http://julieluek.blogspot.com/2015/01/a-funny-thing-happened-on-my-way-to.html" target="_blank"> <b>previous post</b>,</a> I coughed up the explanation of why I’ve
been MIA for the last six months. It’s been two years of
one angst-filled drama and hurdle after another. What I didn’t realize was that
after a while, anticipating crisis, waking up and lacing up my emotional
army boots to trudge through another day, became a habit of thought—an expectation
of life. Weird how something so negative could be a place I go to so easily,
and worse, maybe even find a bit of comfort in! How is it we find comfort in
being miserable?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Martin Seligman, the father of Positive Psychology offers
this evolution explanation of negative thinking, "Fear is a signal that danger is
lurking, sadness is a signal that loss is impending, and anger signals someone trespassing
against us. In evolution, danger, loss and trespass are all threats to survival
itself." (<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=CM9tBAAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA30&dq=positive+psychology&ots=0nYW_VIbk0&sig=8gz7azvhjkt7bxBoyutITrOlIYk#v=onepage&q=positive%20psychology&f=false">Authentic
Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to Realize Your Potential for
Lasting Fulfillment</a>)</span> This makes
sense to me. I faced a lot of threat to my survival-- my kid's life, my life, and my lifestyle-- in the last two years. I was, in a sense, living the results of fear.
He continues to say, “All of this culminates in a quick and decisive action:
fight, flight, or conserve.” That was me. Life got tough; I put on my boxing
gloves. Waking up and girding myself for whatever the day dished out became my modus operandi. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The other morning, I woke up and stretched out in bed. My
mind, still fuzzy and soft from sleep, wandered. Out of habit, I scanned the
landscape of my day and circumstances, preparing myself for the 24-hour battle before me.
Then it occurred to me: I don’t have a battle today. I feel good. My health is
great. I have a good job that is providing for me. I am making friends. I like
where I live. I like my cozy little apartment. I have solid relationships in
my life. My kids are happy and healthy. Maybe I should worry about… I did a
quick survey of what I might have to worry about for the day or week, reflexively
reaching for my boxing gloves, trying to find the emotional foothold that had
become so familiar to me. But, as I lay there in the morning quiet, there just
wasn’t one. Wow. I was…gasp… content! So I started worrying about how
fleeting and false contentment can be. Ahhh, there was that gnawing feeling I've come to know so well and cradle close to me over the last several years.<br />
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Oh brother!<o:p></o:p></div>
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When did this cloak of negative thinking become such a
friend? I didn’t realize, until that morning, how familiar the feeling of angst had become. But then a great thing happened. As I tried to find
a reason to be stressed or launch into my usual problem-solving mode, I got on my own nerves. Enough! Quietly, before getting out of bed, I
acknowledged the good place I am in in life with a prayer of gratitude. I
may not be able to claim this tomorrow or next week but for today, it was good. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As Seligman says, “…feeling positive emotion is
important, not just because it is pleasant in its own right, but because it
causes much better commerce with the world. Developing more positive emotion in
our lives will build friendship, love, better physical health, and greater
achievement.”<br />
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Life can hand out legitimate difficulties-- grief, sadness, hardship, sickness. But it's important to take a step back and make sure a negative attitude isn't just a habit of thought. Clinging to a defeatist gloom n' doom outlook can be a way of insulating against life. After all, something bad can't catch us off guard if we're expecting it, right? On the other hand, living like the sky is falling sure can rob us of a lot of joy and of a happier, healthier relationship with life and people.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-55180688105329813562014-05-14T08:21:00.000-07:002014-05-14T11:40:47.813-07:00In A Life To Come<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTzK1peCegaclKRBLGyUhyas7BqjQuQzDf2ukOOeMYfXVnD333QAMWlTZISCRxS-9Xnhpg95wtXnVATXg9f-oA5EdD2zwhnt3kPxeMyAnJeRK8GGx-tn37_bIAebLPTpoekD1BDZbKAC6/s1600/seasons1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTzK1peCegaclKRBLGyUhyas7BqjQuQzDf2ukOOeMYfXVnD333QAMWlTZISCRxS-9Xnhpg95wtXnVATXg9f-oA5EdD2zwhnt3kPxeMyAnJeRK8GGx-tn37_bIAebLPTpoekD1BDZbKAC6/s1600/seasons1.jpg" height="316" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_929309178"></span><span id="goog_929309179"></span>Here it is May. The hummingbirds have returned to the
mountains of Colorado, my tulips came up, and the aspen trees are getting buds.
Ah, spring. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, at 8000 feet, the season is a bit misleading, if not completely
MIA. The hummingbird feeders are frozen solid in the morning, and there’s still
potential to use our sleds. But nonetheless, as Alexander Pope sagely said, “hope springs
eternal”. Summer will arrive. Soon I’ll dust off my bike and kayak. It all happens, completely non-contingent upon my will
or desire. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This May is riddled with all kinds of changes for me that
make the presence of icicles almost a non-concern. My daughter—my baby—graduates
from high school this coming weekend. When and how in the world did this happen?
I still picture her toddling around, trying to wear her Mr. Potato Head glasses.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYce-qkt2ZRnJik2pJmoeiQ7tjIJg3EnffSBcfr3_VQKfIp1sRLZ4HzW34wivoUUQqzfPso11R2NYzmeJKu75fDNWo4YVGwNb6WXzyt-1zCtT1uaPm0GgMT0SqNzKugAEzOpxAfPDH1aUa/s1600/maddi+guitar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYce-qkt2ZRnJik2pJmoeiQ7tjIJg3EnffSBcfr3_VQKfIp1sRLZ4HzW34wivoUUQqzfPso11R2NYzmeJKu75fDNWo4YVGwNb6WXzyt-1zCtT1uaPm0GgMT0SqNzKugAEzOpxAfPDH1aUa/s1600/maddi+guitar.jpg" height="156" width="200" /></a>Last night, her father and I went to her final choir
concert. Singing is her passion, and choir has been her joy for four years. It
was a bitter-sweet event. As is the tradition in our small high school, seniors
can elect to perform a solo. For several weeks now, we’ve listened to her
practice a song and play her guitar in preparation for her performance. She
sang beautifully last night, without a hitch, and to the hoots and hollers of
her classmates. In August, she’ll leave for college. In Indiana. Why so far
away?</div>
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Not only is my baby bird flying away soon, but my son—the one
who has been living at home for the last year during his cancer treatments—has received
the green light to get on with his life too. At 23, he is more than ready for
his independence. With the effects of chemo fading into a not-so-pleasant but
distant memory, he’s looking forward, too. He recently asked his girlfriend to
marry him (she said yes!) and they’re making plans to move to Florida where he’ll
start grad school. And this all happens in two, short weeks—just another change to
chalk up to May. </div>
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He’s even going to take his gargantuan puppy with him. At a
very hairy and shedding 80 pounds (the puppy, not my son), this may be the one
change I’m not dreading. But the house will be very quiet soon, and the rooms
very empty.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4_Ki8Uygt3dz8oOlEhyphenhyphenFAA5EER3be2I04WrESuKL8kVcyfEmrOPyQytnREh_Pz5Sd9mKVbNk2BqNbj3dvYS2UNmS2YOhMr23d94GiAn2snZ1LM5vLvZbn4nCYdT5y29zVzWN3x_87qs1/s1600/SANY1576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4_Ki8Uygt3dz8oOlEhyphenhyphenFAA5EER3be2I04WrESuKL8kVcyfEmrOPyQytnREh_Pz5Sd9mKVbNk2BqNbj3dvYS2UNmS2YOhMr23d94GiAn2snZ1LM5vLvZbn4nCYdT5y29zVzWN3x_87qs1/s1600/SANY1576.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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No matter how I drag my feet, life goes on. Seasons change.
The landscape morphs. Trees will be in full leaf soon. The earth keeps
rotating. I will turn 50 and enter the fall season of my life, just about the
same time the aspen trees light up the mountains in a golden blaze. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Change is inevitable. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Besides sometimes jarring our status quo, here’s what else I’m learning about change: It may not
always be easy or desired, but it happens despite our dragging feet. And it’s
good. So even though I’ll be saying goodbye to an awful lot—my kids and my
forties—I can’t wait to see what’s on the horizon for a new season in life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<dl style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.2em;"><dd style="line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>Hope springs eternal in the human breast;</i></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>Man never is, but always to be blessed:</i></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>The soul, uneasy and confined from home,</i></dd><dd style="line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>Rests and expatiates in a life to come.</i></dd></dl>
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– Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-28457251295276914422014-05-05T13:45:00.000-07:002014-05-05T13:56:12.907-07:00And We Connect<div class="MsoNormal">
Lately I’ve been in a funk with my writing. It can feel like such a lonely business sometimes. You send things out; sometimes you hear back with
a rejection, most times you hear nothing, and only rarely do you get the
coveted acceptance. Even writing a blog post feels like an echo at times. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Most of the time, I don’t think or worry about it. I just
write because I have something to say or a topic interests me-- and I happen
to find it fun to manipulate words. But the other day, I received an email
response to a post I wrote <a href="http://julieluek.blogspot.com/2013/08/who-was-jane-lea-nixon.html" target="_blank"><i>here</i></a> about a woman who was born in 1774. The post was about Jane Lea Nixon, who had the unique distinction of being the first
white woman born in the Chartiers Valley in Pittsburgh. If you read the post,
you’ll note that very little is known about this woman outside her claim to
being born white and a female at this point in history (and you might find a picture of an apparition I captured on film, but I make no official claim of this...)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaOFf-YMDZIZM0Wj2QbH5NRtL5IS_LdJE3Zk-u5HccWb6vQuBd2Lw62SvzDq2Z_WCF-bCpUwc1jtJdUiVWICOjCTEHoUff6fMj1RDTGMo7091HIEHeywKCYljuZ4lKjGYSxswGzbrBSvG/s1600/stluke3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaOFf-YMDZIZM0Wj2QbH5NRtL5IS_LdJE3Zk-u5HccWb6vQuBd2Lw62SvzDq2Z_WCF-bCpUwc1jtJdUiVWICOjCTEHoUff6fMj1RDTGMo7091HIEHeywKCYljuZ4lKjGYSxswGzbrBSvG/s1600/stluke3.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old St. Luke's-- the church associated with<br />
Jane Lean Nixon.</td></tr>
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A gentleman I’ve never met wrote to thank me for this short
piece about this relatively unknown woman. She, along with the very old stone
church she is associated with, captured my imagination, but for this man, there
is a deeper significance. He is a direct descendant of Jane Lea Nixon. Her
story was part of his childhood folklore as family members passed on her legend
and significance to his family. He told me he can trace the story back
to his great, great grandmother, but then there is a gap between her and Miss Jane
Lea. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He even went on to mention a minister in an Episcopal Church
in Pittsburgh we both know. He now resides in Arizona, and I in Colorado, but
online, through a blog post and a church in Pennsylvania, our lives intersected. I was so touched that he
contacted me and that something I wrote had special meaning for him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My friends Jess and Sally write a blog (<a href="http://jsoutofbounds.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i>check it out here</i></a>)
about their travels around the world. Sometimes they share spectacular photos
from the top of mountain peaks or from deep forests or sometimes the sweet
faces of people around the world. Other times they share haunting stories of
poverty, oppression, and abuse. Each installment of their blog invites me to
share in the journey, not only visually and cerebrally, but more importantly, in
my heart. From across the world, they reach out and share their story so that I can be a part of it. And we connect. Isn't that amazing?</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDrBs37B_giIfFDGtGGjBUlqHN8wYruhD4pAzXJBVhiUAi5qPZhl8pTLbBsQxfLaooH4ie0xOdEIbhOV-tPUfKG0ee-gjVAP6jg8hLbf2cQaSCvIpRUX6S_yc55IiGd0qUrYOGWtM4YLE/s1600/sally+and+jess.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDrBs37B_giIfFDGtGGjBUlqHN8wYruhD4pAzXJBVhiUAi5qPZhl8pTLbBsQxfLaooH4ie0xOdEIbhOV-tPUfKG0ee-gjVAP6jg8hLbf2cQaSCvIpRUX6S_yc55IiGd0qUrYOGWtM4YLE/s1600/sally+and+jess.jpeg" height="246" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sorry Sally and Jess-- yes, I shamelessly lifted<br />this cute picture from your blog. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Other blog friends share their writing, photos, spiritual journeys, and humor with readers. The
internet really is like a web--a very apt description--connecting us. </div>
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Then I remember
why I write. Truly, it’s not as isolated an activity as I'm sometimes tempted to feel like it is.
And for this reminder—for the comments I receive here, for the emails I get,
for the intersection of lives—I am incredibly grateful. Thanks for being a part of that connection. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-77162383469853303152014-04-16T12:13:00.000-07:002014-04-16T12:13:05.730-07:00On The Way To Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0IvCOVYqSX9-5AMJrxKCEwRiKBP1fZPMgLL-GA_azLoBNc91S8bFAKuCmB5ZruG8voQ9HS3qisf8GSTO3HnP8DIMB8lvJJJX23sAJwXeHABo8vwj9cxpPwAz_ea8MRHtOwiPQfOKNp4Z/s1600/giant+cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0IvCOVYqSX9-5AMJrxKCEwRiKBP1fZPMgLL-GA_azLoBNc91S8bFAKuCmB5ZruG8voQ9HS3qisf8GSTO3HnP8DIMB8lvJJJX23sAJwXeHABo8vwj9cxpPwAz_ea8MRHtOwiPQfOKNp4Z/s1600/giant+cross.jpg" height="317" width="320" /></a></div>
My Lent journey took detours I didn't anticipate. I think, however, this isn't a bad lesson to learn about life. Often, our best-laid plans are derailed by a grander design. It's hard to know the purpose and direction in life, and really, isn't that the very essence of faith? <div>
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As Easter approaches, I look forward to travelling to be with my sister and her family. We will attend church services and celebrate Easter, steeped in mystery, celebration, and revelation of Christ's resurrection. It's not a mystery I can even pretend to understand or solve, but it is deeply ingrained in who I am, doubts, questions, mythos and all. </div>
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My visit with my mom went very well and was such a refreshing time for me. She spoils me, and we both enjoyed long, quiet afternoons together. I felt a deeper connection with her and for that, I'm very grateful. </div>
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I also feel new doors and paths opening, some of which frighten me with their capacity for change. But again, I think this is the message of Easter too. Rebirth is never an easy process. But it is one that can bring great peace, love, joy, and purpose. And sometimes it means taking a step into the unknown. </div>
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However you celebrate your Easter, Passover, or the ending of your Spring Renewal journey, I hope it has born in you new doorways of thoughts and a deeper spiritual connection. </div>
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<i>May the Lord bless you and keep you;<br />the lord make His face shine upon you<br />And be gracious to you<br />The Lord lift up his countenance on you<br />And give you peace. </i> </blockquote>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-5040849856337711122014-04-09T15:54:00.000-07:002014-04-09T15:54:34.055-07:00Don't Worry 'Bout It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And so we begin week five of Lent. Our minister in church this past Sunday related the old testament story of Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones (Ezekiel 37:1-14, if you want to read this interesting story). He also read the passage from John 11, in which Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. He invited us to read these fantastic stories as-is, if we desire. But he encouraged us to not get lost in the plausibility, but look for the deeper meaning-- the one in which God makes us new, breathing his very life into us.<br />
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I'm taking a little impromptu trip to visit my mom this week in Pittsburgh. I spoke with her several weeks ago; she was feeling blue. She hasn't been feeling well and a good friend of hers, a 91-year-old man, has been diagnosed with cancer. At 91, there's really no viable treatment for him. She turns 81 on Friday, and it seemed to me a little birthday cheer was in order, so I called her and said I was flying out for her birthday. Her happy response was all I needed to hear to make the last-minute plans and arrangements worth the effort. </div>
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At 81 every pain and illness brings questions of mortality to her mind. I try to imagine her mindset, what it's like to know that life ahead of her is limited. Of course, the truth is, it's limited for all of us and none of us knows how much longer we have. Last week, a missing student from the college where my husband works was found, passed away, in his car. He was just in his early 20s. </div>
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I don't mean to be a downer here. In fact, hang with me, I'm bringing this to a broader point. </div>
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The Buddhists place a lot of emphasis on living in the awareness of the moment, to cease the stories we create about our experiences and just be in the moment; be aware. Too often our minds race ahead to what is going to (or might) happen next or create content about what is happening now. The stories, rather than the fact of the moment, becomes our truth. It deprives us of peace. Jesus tells us not to worry about what we're going to eat or drink or our clothing or what will happen tomorrow. Tomorrow has enough of its own worries. In other words, find peace and joy in this very moment. Let tomorrow take care of itself, and Lord willing, it will. </div>
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This was the very message I needed to hear this week. In the midst of self-esteem issues beating me up, the plans of traveling to Pittsburgh, my mom's health, my daughter's upcoming graduation, my son moving on in his life, all I really need to do is let God breathe life in me. Today. This moment.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-11070625583090279202014-04-03T09:37:00.000-07:002014-04-04T06:38:44.069-07:00The Beauty Of Mystery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think it is in our human mind to want to create order, meaning, and definition. We are uncomfortable with feelings like doubt. We struggle with ambiguity and mystery. All too often, we want to rush in and give God a box so we can settle back in and feel comfortable again. We want to say, <i>ahh, there is the path</i>, when it's not yet clear, because to know is so much easier than to not know.<br />
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When you are going through chaos in life, when the emotions are rocky or the situation is difficult, people are quick to want to give you a handle, some kind of meaning or definition. Maybe it's one that has worked for them, and for that, we are grateful. But I love when I read something that confirms to me that this unknown, this mystery, can be a beautiful place too. This morning, during my quiet time, I read a passage by Thomas Merton (from <i>A Year With Thomas Merton</i>):<br />
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Light rain all night. The need to keep working at meditation-- going to the root. Mere passivity won't do at this point. But activism won't do either. A time of wordless deepening, to grasp the inner reality of my nothingness in Him Who Is. Talking about it in these terms seems absurd. Seems to have nothing to do with concrete reality that is to be grasped. My prayer is peace and struggle in silence, to be aware and true, beyond myself, and to go outside the door of myself, not because I will it, but because I am called and must respond. </blockquote>
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So rather than feel I must fix this awkward place I am in, or align the emotions so I can feel safe in my spirituality, I am still content to breathe and listen this week, letting go of my will of what I think I should be.<br />
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Maybe more than any other focus I have examined for Lent, this one feels the most important. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-6662200782939437822014-04-01T06:00:00.000-07:002014-04-01T10:59:56.768-07:00Sometimes You Just Need To Breathe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had all kinds of ideas for a theme this week, but I’m
going to be honest, none of them felt authentic. Grab a cup of coffee, or tea,
or whatever your sipping preference is, and let’s have an honest chat. </div>
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Here’s where
I’m at with this whole Lent 40-day observance project:<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I started out, I anticipated a deep, spiritual
experience. I was ready to look at themes and think about how God was directing
me through each of them. But as it often goes, once the marriage is in
place, the passion wanes. </div>
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The funny thing about passion is how rooted it is in
feelings. As long as those butterfly feelings, or in the case of a spiritual
journey, that deep sense of communion and connection, we feel on
track, centered, where we “should” be. Unfortunately, at least for me, feelings
are flighty and deceptive. And right now, I don’t <i>feel</i> very spiritual.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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During this Lent experience I have felt more off-track and off-balance than I have in a long time. I’m
skipping out on my quiet times. I am being hammered with temptations and
side-tracked with rampant emotions. I feel angry and hurt by some stuff life
has thrown at me (I know, waa, waa, waa—but if I’m being honest, it is where I’m at). My creativity is in the
pits of black sludge screaming for motivation. I feel like the more I strive to
be elevated, the more I’m stuck with my soul’s feet firmly planted in plain ol’
terra firma muck. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Last night we had really weird weather, even for the Rocky
Mountains. The wind was howling and thrashing the house. But instead of the
night sky getting darker, it glowed with an eerie red color. Folks from around
here claimed the ferocious westerly wind blew the red soil from Utah our way
(sure, blame Utah). Whatever the reason, local friends on Facebook swore it was
the Apocalypse. The wind ripped through our little valley well into the night. It wasn't pleasant.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But this morning, all was calm and bright again. The sky was
a dazzling blue with puffy clouds. The sun warmed the earth, melting the
blown snow and ice. Maybe last night's moody storm still haunted me, but all I wanted to do was stay holed up inside. But the
sun insisted on shining, taunting me out of my lazy stupor. I put on my jogging shoes, snapped the
leash on my son’s dog, and headed out for a jog. Jogging
is never easy, I rarely want to go—OK, really, I never want to go—but I know once I'm out and, more specifically, once I am done, I'll be glad I made the effort. Sure enough, as my feet found their pace something wonderful began to happen. The tightness in my shoulders relaxed, the sun warmed my face and
body. I finally looked up from my own feet to gaze at the snow-covered peaks, listened to the
creek gurgling in its thaw, and felt my heart rate find its rhythm. </div>
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And isn’t that a bit like the
spiritual journey?</div>
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I think this week I will dispense with the themes and
striving. I need to quit <i>trying</i> to be creative or spiritual or loving or... whatever. A friend had
this little saying on his Facebook page today:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>You don’t need to have a plan.</i> <i>Sometimes you just need to
breathe, let go, and trust the Lord and watch what happens.</i></blockquote>
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Ah, yes. This week? I’m breathing and watching. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-53664151383399132792014-03-29T06:30:00.000-07:002014-03-29T06:30:02.184-07:00Friendship Meditation<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Love one another with brotherly affection. Out do one another in showing honor.</b></div>
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<b>- Romans 12:10</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Iron sharpens iron and one man sharpens another.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>- Proverbs 27:17</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Friendship is the only cure for hatred, the only guarantee of peace.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>--Buddha</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-42304770899430037952014-03-27T06:05:00.000-07:002014-03-27T06:05:17.614-07:00Relationships: Putting it In Action<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>When we honestly ask which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>--Henri Nouwen</i></b></div>
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Last year, as our family faced a health crisis, I learned a lot about friendship. Some people avoided us, probably out of a sense of discomfort or not being sure what to say. No blaming-- it <i>is</i> difficult when, really, nothing said or done will make it all better. But other friends really rose to the occasion. Although many people attended to me, my friend Debbie stands out as a shining example of friendship in action. She sent gourmet food gifts to my son, and as any mom will tell you, "love my kids, love me". But she didn't stop there. She made sure I received cards and little gifts, just to let me know she was loving on and thinking of me.<br />
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When our drama and trauma was all over and we made it to the other side (with a happy ending), she even let me descend on her and her sweet family for a week of Florida sunshine and a healthy dose of restorative friendship. Poor lady. I think I talked her ear off about all kinds of stuff I had stored up inside me. And never once did she sigh and say, "Yeah, I think you told me all this before" (she had every right to, trust me).<br />
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As I contemplate the past year and think about the loving examples of friendship I've had in my life, I realize that friendship is seen and felt through love's actions. So what can we do to act in friendship? Over the years I've collected a few ideas, some I have learned through the grace of friends, others I have discovered, through the grace of God:<br />
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1.<b> Notes</b>: This week I received a lovely bracelet made in Africa and a note from a friend who had just been there on a mission trip with her church (waves at Corinne). The bracelet is lovely, but the sweet note, her words of friendship, love, and encouragement brought me to tears-- no easy feat for me. There's something about handwriting and the time it takes, that speaks volumes to the heart.<br />
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2. <b>Listening</b>: Easier than it sounds. The tough part, I've learned, is listening without feeling like I have to fine-tune or correct or offer a solution. I want to fix it for my friends, but that's rarely possible. Listening, sympathizing, and agreeing is usually all that's required or desired.<br />
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3.<b> Small gifts</b>: What is it about a gift card to a coffee shop or a pretty bookmark that perks a person up? It doesn't have to be anything expensive; it can be homemade, but a little present can really make a friend feel special.<br />
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4. <b>Coffee or lunch</b>: I have a friend who meets me for coffee every couple of weeks. We chat and sip talking about our kids, animals, aging, finances, and whatever else comes up. It's a lovely time together. I always leave feeling refreshed.<br />
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5. <b>Walking</b>: Another friend and I go for weekly walks, through ice, snow, and sunshine we get out and walk for an hour or so. Not only are we getting a little exercise, but we spend the entire time talking about all kinds of topics-- parents, marriage, faith, church, our town, trends-- whatever we want, really. I look forward to my weekly date with this sweet lady.<br />
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6. <b>Do the unexpected</b>. Once, a friend of mine was in a dispute with her sister. It turned nasty. All the handmade ceramic gifts that she had once given her sister were left, smashed, one-by-one, on her front stoop in brown paper bags. My friend was crushed. One morning, I got up early, bought her a pretty flowering plant, and put it in a brown bag in front of her door with a note: <i>See, not all things left at your door are bad</i>. She told me that when she first opened the door and saw the bag, her heart sank. But as she dared to open it, her hope was restored. It warmed my heart to know it made her smile.<br />
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7. <b>Be there</b>. Another time, a friend of mine called one late night and told me she was suicidal, and if she decided to take her own life, I was not to feel guilty. We hung up the phone, and I stared at it for a few minutes. Then I told my husband I was heading out for the night. I grabbed my sleeping bag and a toothbrush and drove to her house. When she answered the door, I sent her to bed to rest. "Go to bed. I'm cleaning your house and sleeping on the couch." I'm glad to say that over twenty years later, she is a lovely, active person enjoying life. At least for that night, she was under my watch and much too polite to follow through on her threat while I was there.<br />
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I think the common thread for all these ideas is time. When we invest time in our friendships-- whether through a phone call, visit, or jotting a note, we invest in the other person. There are so many things demanding our time, but few will reap the joy and satisfaction of a friendship.<br />
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<b>What else would you add to the list to add action to friendship? Do you have any stories of acts you have done or others have done for you to encourage us and offer ideas? Let's go in blessings this week and <i>be</i> a friend. </b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-62603230053538603442014-03-25T05:39:00.000-07:002014-03-25T05:43:55.106-07:00 In The Name Of Friendships: Lent Week Three<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Beloved, let us love one another.</b></div>
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<b>-- Jesus</b></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; font-family: inherit; text-align: -webkit-center;"><b>Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; font-family: inherit; text-align: -webkit-center;"><b>-- Mother Teresa</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This week for Lent, I am focusing on relationships-- friendships, acquaintances, people we pass on the street, those we write comments to on Facebook. Sometimes I'm so dismayed by the things I read on social media or the gossip exchanged over a cup of coffee. We can be awfully hard on each other. In the name of our beliefs and views and our "right" to air them-- liberal or conservative-- we can be unkind and insensitive. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I admit I've not always had an easy time forming healthy friendships. I didn't use to be like this. When I was younger, I felt much more open and less guarded. Over the years, I've allowed a few life experiences to make me gun-shy and wary. Being a "pastor's wife" came with a fish bowl type lifestyle, replete with expectations. I think I've become a little more insecure, afraid that who I am isn't good enough. And I think, in part, I've not always done a good job choosing friends. There are probably a variety of reasons, but whatever the cause, the end result is somehow my skin was worn thin and I sometimes feel like I'm permanently flinching around people. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But it's time to change. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And this is the focus for my prayers and meditation this week: to be a better friend. Being guarded is a form of selfishness, keeping me from thinking beyond my own interests and concerns. </span></span><span style="text-align: -webkit-center;">It's time to quit chasing after relationships who don't want me as I am, or who don't have time for me. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: -webkit-center;">It's time to spend more time listening without judgment, laughing without inhibition, and loving, just because it feels good to love freely. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am thankful for the lifelong friendships I do have-- the ones who haven't given up on me (waves at college pals). I am thankful for the coffee dates where nothing is required of me but to show up, chat, and enjoy. I am thankful for Facebook, which has allowed me to reconnect with wonderful people from my past, and meet amazing new friends. And I'm thankful for the friendships that have yet to blossom and help me age with humor, grace, and empathy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>How about you? Are you where you want to be with your friendships and relationships? Do you reach out readily or are you like me, more guarded and introverted? How could your relationships be a meditation for Lent this week?</i></b></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-37944754273049816702014-03-20T11:19:00.000-07:002014-03-20T11:19:27.318-07:00The Creativity RitualBeing creative isn't always easy for me. In theory, I love the idea of connecting to God through art. My heart and mind grasp that when we create, we are imitating God, <i>the</i> artist. <div>
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It is our unique gift as humans to see visions of beauty and inspiration and give them form. (<a href="http://ctt.ec/j0aSa" target="_blank"><b>Tweet this</b></a>)</div>
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In practice, however, I often feel limited by the process. Writing, most often, is my chosen form of expression. I love to write... most of the time. But sometimes bringing the ideas in my head to fruition and giving them palatable words and form feels anything but spiritual. I lumber through the process, frustrated by my own lack of ability. The peaceful, spiritual image I have in my head flies right out the window (along with pages of deleted words). </div>
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This week for Lent, however, I was determined to focus on, nurture, and find my creative joy. It occurred to me that just as church is a ceremony to prepare us for worship, I could implement a ritual to open my heart, elevate my spirit, and be more receptive.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbXkV8vPHEQ5v_wws7v5JVJVxgu2wyx3DUevlpxpwFnwVYzdAbXc_0NSIUqLqYOSmebRF3OI9wgOwxd0UrDQo2YXFJzEaFjpukn0quhkNNWgoN12YuDNj-HeMo733aOu8-fKkIXSNgOk2/s1600/candlesm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbXkV8vPHEQ5v_wws7v5JVJVxgu2wyx3DUevlpxpwFnwVYzdAbXc_0NSIUqLqYOSmebRF3OI9wgOwxd0UrDQo2YXFJzEaFjpukn0quhkNNWgoN12YuDNj-HeMo733aOu8-fKkIXSNgOk2/s1600/candlesm.jpg" /></a></div>
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1. <b>Lighting a candle.</b> I found a candle with a lovely, soft scent, placed it on my desk, and lit it. As I did so, I said a prayer asking God to light my heart and help me be a soft and gentle light. </div>
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2.<b> Read</b>. I took a few minutes to read a text that challenged and elevated my mind. Currently, I'm working through a book called <i>In Fact: The Best of Creative Nonfiction</i>, a collection of very well-written and thoughtful essays. Reading others' creative pieces helped set my mind and heart towards my own writing. I could have read poetry or scripture, looked at art on the internet, or watched an inspiring video or TED talk-- anything to feed my heart and inspire me. </div>
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3. <b>Music</b>. I need relative quiet when I write. Even music with lyrics can disrupt me. I found a station on Pandora that is strictly instrumental. It plays a lovely mix I find soothing and uplifting. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd-lY92iqSnrGAsvtfyVH8vzWw241gcRqhcYh70ZpCQsM7p5teQ0ApyrBHHuIbguKCuuqmwSGfUV6KMpTiS163db2ZE5VQ2FSzw1qOfkbnxb0wDsyj1DISRe1Fs4hv2bFgK1InHLxOs89/s1600/tea+cupsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd-lY92iqSnrGAsvtfyVH8vzWw241gcRqhcYh70ZpCQsM7p5teQ0ApyrBHHuIbguKCuuqmwSGfUV6KMpTiS163db2ZE5VQ2FSzw1qOfkbnxb0wDsyj1DISRe1Fs4hv2bFgK1InHLxOs89/s1600/tea+cupsmall.jpg" height="200" width="171" /></a>4. <b>Tea</b>. I don't think there's anything mystical in a hot cup of tea, but the scent, warming liquid, and earthy flavor helped me feel pampered. </div>
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4. <b>Turn off the Internet.</b> While I think social media serves a good purpose, I also believe it is the antithesis of creativity. (<b><a href="http://ctt.ec/BQ3Se" target="_blank">Tweet this</a></b>) It is, at least for me, numbing and distracting. I downloaded an alarm clock app and set it. I'll be honest, I felt a bit "twitchy" wanting to check my mail or Facebook (now isn't that telling), but the lack of distraction was wonderful and reminded me that this time was special and sacred. </div>
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4. <b>Create</b>. I wrote, not euphorically or without wrestling with my words, but I allowed myself to write, even poorly. Towards the end of my time, one piece I worked on took me to the lake near our house during summer, kayaking on the glass-like surface. My heart soared with the words. I was in the heart of creating, reliving nature, and lost in sharing an experience that brought me peace. </div>
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<i>Have you ever tried to make your creation process more an act of worship? What ideas do you have to set the stage and mood for a receptive heart?</i></div>
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<b>And now, the winner!</b></div>
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I admit, when I first thought of giving away crayons and a coloring book, I wondered if it would seem childish. It was an idea born from my own love of coloring. I find it so peaceful! But it was fun to see the eager responses. I'm enjoying giving away a few gifts! The winner of the coloring book and crayons, as selected by the random list generator at Random.org is:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYVM-WP61kI17aZjt82cBhMBt6LyZYyQeXqw3Y7mvB8oCLyc_nTwCMAsWcP0zL0118rK-BgeEMlIn_r4PEuyKZj2NrusVO2LWBzulO8qk1fqbI8lGmcWB-K5PO40tjyv0IqpKQ_3dSj0Q/s1600/Screenshot+2014-03-20+11.44.40.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYVM-WP61kI17aZjt82cBhMBt6LyZYyQeXqw3Y7mvB8oCLyc_nTwCMAsWcP0zL0118rK-BgeEMlIn_r4PEuyKZj2NrusVO2LWBzulO8qk1fqbI8lGmcWB-K5PO40tjyv0IqpKQ_3dSj0Q/s1600/Screenshot+2014-03-20+11.44.40.png" height="171" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Julia Munroe Martin</b></div>
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Yay! Julia, get in touch with me and give me your mailing address-- I'm so excited you won!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-24556454106030183472014-03-17T14:56:00.000-07:002014-03-17T15:37:35.947-07:00Get Your Creativity On <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1eoIusR5fSRhxHJFPx-BLuzaWPfJrKiusKpjzMdljKVc8P65GSKM5SFaG5NENUFwJcJ94zE2EI39YhpOZawdNo-XTs552eijHiodz_03a3lFLU4Nl-76cUon9W997zgvufjLnvw7a9Es/s1600/crayons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1eoIusR5fSRhxHJFPx-BLuzaWPfJrKiusKpjzMdljKVc8P65GSKM5SFaG5NENUFwJcJ94zE2EI39YhpOZawdNo-XTs552eijHiodz_03a3lFLU4Nl-76cUon9W997zgvufjLnvw7a9Es/s1600/crayons.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>photo from photobucket.com</i></span></td></tr>
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Painting, drawing, coloring, scrapbooking, collages, photography, nature walks, writing, poetry, singing, music... what do these all have in common? Read on to find out, and at the end, get ready for another <i>give-away.</i><br />
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There is perhaps no greater advocate for the act of spiritual creation than Julia Cameron. She has developed courses and written books teaching her belief that art and our spiritual connection to The Creator are closely linked. She writes in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Artists-Way-Spiritual-Higher-Creativity-ebook/dp/B006H19H3M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395090229&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Artist%27s+Way" target="_blank">The Artist's Way</a></i>, "When we open ourselves to our creativity, we open ourselves to the creator's creativity within us and our lives."<br />
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When we acknowledge and explore our own creativity, could it be we are conduits of God's own delight as the master artist? <i>But I can't draw. I can't write. I can't play an instrument. </i>We have an excuse list a mile long why we are not very creative. I know. I've used most of them.<br />
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I come from a very artistic family. My mother was an amazing artist with oils. Her paintings are abstract expressions with shapes, textures, and colors. My <a href="http://teachartk-5.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>sister</b></a> is also a gifted artist, quilter, and shares her love of creation with a school full of elementary children. My engineering dad and brother, although not artists in the fine arts sense, could always duplicate and build with their hands. Honestly, I always felt like the creative ugly duckling. My talents were not obvious. I loved to play our old upright piano and sing, but lacked the discipline and talent to hone my skills. I can't draw worth spit. I always like to write, but never saw that as a creative expression, unless I wrote poetry (really bad poetry, I might add).<br />
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But now I believe all of us-- even me-- are endowed with innate creative urges, no matter the form it takes. For some, walking in nature and savoring creation is a way to nurture their creative soul. For others, it is painting, singing, photography, sketching, interior design, and yes, writing. The list goes on. One has only to walk in nature, through a museum, among ornate architecture or cliff dwellings of ancient peoples to know that we are born creative beings, longing to express what we see and feel.<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><b>I strongly believe that when we create, </b></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><b>we may be at our closest to communing with God</b>. <a href="http://ctt.ec/ecb8e" target="_blank">(Tweet this) </a></span><br />
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Christine Valters Paintner, author of <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Artists-Rule-Nurturing-Creative-Monastic-ebook/dp/B009O2DU2U/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395090103&sr=1-1&keywords=christine+valters+painter" target="_blank">The Artist's Rule: A Twelve Week Journey</a></i> says, "When you bring awareness to your work as an artist or writer, your pen and brush become vessels of awareness of God at work."<br />
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I like to think I am communing closely with God and in his delight when I create.This week for Lent, I will try to incorporate a little creative play into each day, no matter how simple, and I will try to let it be a form of meditation and celebration.<br />
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<b>And The Give Away!</b><br />
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To help you get into your creative groove, I would like to send a design coloring book and box of crayons to one commenter of this post, by Thursday, March 20th. I will announce the winner and get mailing information on Friday, the 21st. (Sorry, because of postage expenses with this, I'm going to confine the give away to within the continental U.S.) When was the last time you colored an intricate pattern and smelled a box of fresh crayons? Let your child artist out!<br />
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<b><span style="color: black;">We are made in infinite creativity. </span></b><br />
<span style="color: black;"><b> Is it any wonder we find joy when we let our inner artist out to play? </b><a href="http://ctt.ec/52dF6" target="_blank">(Tweet this)</a></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-59195772612227168982014-03-15T08:21:00.001-07:002014-03-15T08:21:27.632-07:00Meditation On Love<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">-- Jesus</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">To love another person is to see the face of God. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">-- Victor Hugo</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-77132009702662767732014-03-14T10:04:00.000-07:002014-03-14T11:03:34.588-07:00For the Love of... Fish!<br />
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I'm familiar with the tradition in the Catholic church of eating fish on Friday, especially during Lent. I cruised through the Internet trying to find an explanation of this observance and was puzzled to find varied explanations, none of them very clear. As best as I can tell, from several Catholic websites, it started as a tradition to abstain from meat on Fridays, as a way of observing penance. I'm not a big meat eater, so not sure how much of a sacrifice this would be for me.<br />
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Several sites discussed whether eating fish was really abstaining from eating meat and whether the original intent was to focus on grains and veggies. Still others talked about the significance of fish in the Christian history: Jesus dividing the fish and loaves, the disciples being fishers of men, the early practice of drawing a fish shape in the ground (an Ichthys) to indicate one's Christianity when it was dangerous to do so verbally.<br />
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No matter. I like fish. I'm happy to embrace this tradition. So in honor of Fridays in Lent, I will offer fishy recipes for your dining pleasure. Today's recipe comes from <a href="http://www.sparkpeople.com/" target="_blank">SparkPeople</a> and is so ridiculously easy, I'm going to make it tonight:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMZ3Lgv5M2pIHk_FBaqsm-FKd5DbAOCpwQwWCm4GqzVxFrMyFa3VPWyTFYVb0AWsRC-p5ApJM-TFp2KxehV6u89ZfvCCh2E0083N0tygN-Wz78FThU6rcYlmYtxUtXdrl50x9rWsJUvnh/s1600/salmon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMZ3Lgv5M2pIHk_FBaqsm-FKd5DbAOCpwQwWCm4GqzVxFrMyFa3VPWyTFYVb0AWsRC-p5ApJM-TFp2KxehV6u89ZfvCCh2E0083N0tygN-Wz78FThU6rcYlmYtxUtXdrl50x9rWsJUvnh/s1600/salmon.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image from photobucket.com</i></span></td></tr>
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<b>World's Easiest Salmon Recipe</b><br />
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1/4 cup real maple syrup (not pancake syrup) or honey<br />
1/4 cup soy sauce<br />
2-3 cloves garlic, minced<br />
12 oz salmon<br />
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Mix first three ingredients in a large plastic bag and marinate salmon for at least an hour before cooking. Pour salmon with marinade into a baking dish, cover with foil and bake at 350 for 15 minutes. The salmon is done when it flakes at the thickest part. Enjoy!<br />
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Do you have an explanation of the tradition of fish on Fridays? Educate me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-27854214319323728972014-03-12T07:53:00.000-07:002014-03-12T07:53:22.487-07:00Putting Feet to Love<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, </i></span><i style="background-color: font-family: inherit;">you did for me. </i></div>
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<i style="background-color: font-family: inherit;">--Jesus</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you knew what I know about the power of giving, you would not let a single meal pass without sharing it in some way.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">-- Buddah</span></i></div>
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Last night I happened to catch the end snippet of NBC news. They had a short clip of the disturbing conflict in Syria and the young, helpless victims of the seemingly unending hate. My heart caught. How can I be confronted with these sweet children's faces and do nothing? Just yesterday in <a href="http://julieluek.blogspot.com/2014/03/to-be-love.html" target="_blank">my post</a> I talked about love in action, and that very night this story caught my eye.<br />
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I have been receiving a daily Lent message from <a href="http://www.lentreflections.com/give-to-everyone-who-asks/" target="_blank">Fr. Robert Barron</a> and today's message was about giving (wouldn't you know it). In it, he encourages readers to give whenever you are asked, citing Matthew 5:42: <i>Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.</i><br />
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Fr. Barron challenges people to give to anyone-- all the mail invites for money (assuming they are legitimate, of course), all the panhandlers, even if it's just a dollar or two. He encourages people to cut back on other areas, like maybe what they order from the menu, and give that savings away. That's quite a challenge.<br />
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Everyone, of course, is convicted to do their part in their own way. Heaven knows there are many, many children in need of someone to care with action, in the world and in our own country. Tonight, my husband and I will sit down and look through the organizations helping children, as suggested by <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/syrias-children/how-you-can-help-syrias-children-n47161" target="_blank">NBC News</a>, and choose one.<br />
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Ultimately the answer to war is that Love would triumph over all the hate, but in the meantime, maybe we can find a way to put feet to that sentiment.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-17015485775163218782014-03-11T11:00:00.001-07:002014-03-11T11:00:39.489-07:00To Be Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This week for Lent, I decided I would focus and meditate on
the topic of love. Yesterday, I posted a link to a
lovely essay my sweet 18-year-old wrote and, if I do say so (and unabashedly I
will say so) it was poignant and truth-filled. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When I started out this 40-day journey, I had lofty,
almost saint-like images of how and who I would be during Lent. You see, there’s an odd side to me that
craves to be a monk. I read Thomas Merton with a touch of envy.
From the outside peering through the glass window of his secluded hermitage, I
see a spiritual being in touch with his creator, wrestling over the deep issues
of the soul, taking long walks in nature in contemplative thought, and writing in
his journal elegant and insightful truths. Yeah, I want to be<i> that</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s the irony of it, however. Ultimately, being <i>that</i> is more about the ego than anything. My ego wants to be this lofty, separated from the world, harmonious, love-filled saint. The thud-crashing reality, is what I'm really craving is a spiritual state that can only come from a lifetime of wrestling with who I am--grounded in this life with its disappointments, hurts, and confusion, and...oh, that's right...it usually includes a heavy dose of hard-earned humility. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After Mother Teresa’s death, correspondences were discovered revealing that during the last 50 years of her life, she wrestled with the
very core of her faith, if God even existed. By then of course, she
was cast in a high-profile role in life. Was she a fraud? I doubt
it. She was, perhaps like most people in life, on a trajectory she began and perhaps didn't know how to alter. But I have no doubt she was truly motivated by compassion
and serving, despite all the feelings being, or not being, in place.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oh, that’s the sneaky, tricky part of love, isn’t it? The
feelings aren’t always in place, and yet the actions must be. I doubt Thomas
Merton’s feelings were always as they “should” be. He wrestled with life. It is, in
fact, from this very place of doubt and despair most saints or great, spiritual thinkers probably travel through to become who they ultimately became, the place we get to pick up on in their lives and read about.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Attaining to an image is the fragile stuff of ego. We want a
reflection. The truth is hard work, life, doubt, pain, hurt, confusion, and <i>yet</i> clinging to faith—these are
the things that carve and form the images we often look up to. Like rushing water that little by little forms
a canyon, the daily act of living carves us into humility and action, even when, and probably more so when, the feelings aren’t all in place.</div>
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So this week’s Lent challenge is to act in love--not to
feel loving, meditate on lofty images of love, or pray with some abstract saintly
love. It’s just to <i>be</i> love. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-32869732388034853852014-03-10T06:42:00.000-07:002014-03-10T06:42:44.952-07:00All We Need Is Love....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was going to write a post on love today, then I read the post my daughter-- only 18-- wrote as a contributor to the site <i>Joyful Home and Life</i>. She writes to a teen audience, but see if this doesn't speak volumes to you.<br />
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<a href="http://www.joyfulhomeandlife.com/2014/03/but-greatest-of-these-is-love.html" target="_blank"><b>But The Greatest of These is Love</b></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-90270295180891434292014-03-08T07:05:00.000-08:002014-03-08T07:05:13.696-08:00Peace.<a class="leftAlignedImage" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3503.Maya_Angelou" style="background-color: color: #666600; float: left; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; margin-right: 10px; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="Maya Angelou" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1379017377p2/3503.jpg" style="border: 0px;" /></a><br />
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“Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence. Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.”<br />
― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3503.Maya_Angelou" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Maya Angelou</a>, <i><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/741834" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now</a></i></div>
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May you find peace and rest in your weekend.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-5797923104166853152014-03-07T07:47:00.001-08:002014-03-07T08:05:18.549-08:00Gratefulness in Action<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/iwQZggdZrOo" width="480"></iframe><br />
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For Lent this week I've been focusing on being grateful. It seems like the more I focus on it, the more obstacles have been thrown up in front of me to challenge my efforts while, simultaneously, the more reminders I've had to be grateful anyway.<br />
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So many people post videos on Facebook, I almost always pass them by. But when my friend posted this short clip (less than 3 minutes), the little girl's cute face caught my attention as if intentionally placed in front of me to sucker me in. I couldn't resist.<br />
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I'm glad I didn't. It reminded me that to cultivate a grateful heart we must, by necessity, be looking up and out beyond our own circumstances. Gratefulness expands our vision and reminds us to have a giving heart.<br />
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Jesus said we must be like little children in our faith (Matt.18:3). I think it's because children don't over-think or analyze a decision or belief, they just accept it and do it. </div>
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May I be more childlike this week.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-18775539145584118182014-03-06T08:45:00.001-08:002014-03-06T08:49:41.425-08:00Gratitude<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>When it comes to life, the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>--Gilbert K. Chesterson</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I woke up this morning a bit out of sorts. My floors needed swept and mopped. The carpets needed vacuumed. Laundry needed done. Am I the only one who can do the work around here? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We missed Ash Wednesday services last night. We got the time wrong, and nowhere could I find the correct time. It's not the end of the world, or even a minor tragedy-- just a disappointment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, I am cranky. I just put another load in the laundry and have a few, brief hours alone before family returns and clutters my solitude. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I turned to my quiet time of meditation, hoping to find solace and the feelings of Lent, whatever those may be. I read the words of my devotions then ranted, "Why is it, God, I must find you? <i>You</i> are God. Find me. I'm just human." I was met with a silence I don't know how to interpret. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I find myself wondering if, like many believe, I am conjuring a God to suit my need. I can point to nothing, like science, to prove He exists. I can't do an experiment and show my hypothesis to be fact. But ultimately, my heart can't reject what has been instilled in it for so long. It may not make "sense", but it is my decision to accept mystery as truth.</span></div>
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Feelings, like inspiration, are dodgy and deceptive, aren't they? They come and go, fluttering just out of reach. Sometimes we grasp them, and they are dear and feel so real. But mostly they taunt us. Are our beliefs so fragile they hang on fleeting emotions? </div>
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When I am stuck in this cycle, it is best that I do. What I mean is, it is good for me to get out of my head. Move beyond my <i>self</i>. Do chores. Go for a walk or jog. Call someone who needs cheering up. Write a note to someone I haven't spoke to in awhile. Do. Or perhaps I need a good slap in the conscience: read an article about any place in the world where misfortune and misery are grounded in the sad facts of daily life and haunting uncertainty, not my conjured disappointments with life. </div>
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Then I come full circle, quiet my heart, and find a place of gratitude for all that I have- which is, in the perspective of the world-- abundant beyond comprehension. This doesn't take beliefs or faith or religion. It is a fact I can point to with confidence. </div>
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During this lent season, I will remember gratitude. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4548174337658660106.post-39207317948275008982014-03-05T13:22:00.000-08:002014-03-05T13:31:48.369-08:00Let It Shine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May it be a light to you in the dark places, when all other lights go out.</span> </div>
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--J.R.R. Tolkien, <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i></div>
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Today my son and I went on a short drive together and stopped off at a discount store. I was in search of candles. I know this may not sound like a difficult task, but when you live in a small, secluded town, sometimes even the simple things can be difficult to find. </div>
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Our out-of-town excursion didn't result in exactly what I was looking for, but I made do. After all, it wasn't the aesthetics I was seeking. Ultimately, it was the meaning. </div>
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This year, I'm going to light evening candles in a reverse Advent way. I have six small candles for each week of Lent. I will light them all the first week, one less the following, and so on so that by Good Friday, there will be no candles lit. It will be, as the world must have felt, in darkness. On Easter, I will light them all again so they blaze and I will light the tall green candle as the final celebration. I chose green because it represents growth and life. </div>
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May the Light shine for you.</div>
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<i>Please join me in our 40-Day celebration of Lent and renewal. Whether you are making this journey with a specific faith intention or as a time to celebrate stillness and renewal, follow along. </i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00741349796538313075noreply@blogger.com10