tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81472993430862545782024-03-13T10:36:56.927-04:00Penned Without InkSarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.comBlogger223125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-56157923004981303152021-07-25T21:32:00.000-04:002021-07-25T21:32:55.903-04:00Cancer, Covid, and the Grace of God<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Strange symptoms. Unanswered questions. Multiple appointments. More tests. Inconclusive results. Endless waiting . . .</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's been over a year since my health journey began and I was told to see an oncologist.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Wait! See an oncologist? But the abdominal biopsy and PET scan shouted the diagnosis: Stage 3 Lymphoma.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"But this can't be happening to me! I eat healthy. I exercise. I've worked hard to steward my body. And besides, haven't I been through enough with my husband's death in 2015 and leftover limitations from a 2003 car crash? And what about my daughters who already lost one parent . . . and my elderly dad . . . and my job . . . and . . ." </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It was too much. My world crumbled. My anxiety sky-rocketed. And truth be told, I felt angry.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Last August, during those confusing weeks, I <a href="http://www.sarahlynnphillips.com/2020/08/three-words-to-live-by.html" target="_blank">shared</a>:</span></p><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SqM3lJrn-OI/YP297yuhdOI/AAAAAAAAIQk/lUbscfSbVP4cGWkSHizSfNTr9D2J0HdHwCNcBGAsYHQ/s400/journals_two_open_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SqM3lJrn-OI/YP297yuhdOI/AAAAAAAAIQk/lUbscfSbVP4cGWkSHizSfNTr9D2J0HdHwCNcBGAsYHQ/w247-h134/journals_two_open_.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><blockquote><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're like me, life's surprise trials can "throw you for a loop," as my mom used to say. We feel blindsided, panicky even - and find ourselves wondering, "Is this my fault? What could I have done differently? What about the others this will affect? Where is God in all this?" </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We just want to get back to normal, after all. We want to be healthy, stable, predictable . . . f</span><span style="font-family: arial;">ine. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;"><b>But maybe "perpetually fine" is unrealistic. </b>Jesus said, "In this world you will have tribulation" (John 6:33), but He doesn't leave us alone. Can we trust His sovereign yet loving hand? Will we choose to express <u>gratefulness</u> to Him and to the people around us? Will <u>faithfulness</u> characterize our daily walk? Can we learn <u>contentment</u>, regardless? </span></p><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"></p><p style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">A brochure came in the mail this week with these settling words: "<b>Because God loves us so much, He never allows pain without purpose.</b> He longs for us to run to Him and find shelter, courage, strength, and help in our times of distress. In these moments, we are drawn closer to Him, and we begin to understand His working in our lives."</span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The concept of trusting God to write your story isn't new to me, yet during the past year God has lovingly led me to trust Him more. Thinking and believing truth revealed through God's Word reminds me that His ways are higher and His thoughts more accurate than mine (Isaiah 55:8-9). </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-80UFalHkM8U/YP2_gbXE57I/AAAAAAAAIQs/TWminYNWU_YXIe682RgdpjQTl5LFxTtcgCNcBGAsYHQ/s358/reading%2Bthe%2BBible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="358" height="182" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-80UFalHkM8U/YP2_gbXE57I/AAAAAAAAIQs/TWminYNWU_YXIe682RgdpjQTl5LFxTtcgCNcBGAsYHQ/w283-h182/reading%2Bthe%2BBible.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><p>Even in my darkest moments, when I find myself wringing my hands with tears streaming down my cheeks, I'm learning that God's promises stand regardless of my circumstances. The world often harms us, "but God intends it for good to accomplish what is now being done" (Genesis 50:20). <b>Perhaps He is using my illness to heal my heart.</b></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">At this point in my journey, God has supplied a team of doctors and practitioners whose help has been invaluable. When I contracted COVID just before Christmas, He graciously directed me to a health coach whose protocol brought healing at a vulnerable time. My family has been supportive, and many have been praying.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBK9w-1DPGQ/YP3AgHPiTcI/AAAAAAAAIQ0/ruGxWZkFEtU_GdHQ7I1KYdDyG-rRXg9vQCNcBGAsYHQ/s301/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="301" height="129" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBK9w-1DPGQ/YP3AgHPiTcI/AAAAAAAAIQ0/ruGxWZkFEtU_GdHQ7I1KYdDyG-rRXg9vQCNcBGAsYHQ/w194-h129/heart.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Eleven months after my diagnosis, I still have cancer. I'm still uncertain of what's ahead. I still have multiple appointments and unanswered questions and periods of waiting. I slip back into times of tearful worry and anxiety. </span><b style="font-family: arial;">All this, but I'm in a different place.</b><span style="font-family: arial;"> A place of acceptance (most of the time) with a deeper trust in the One who works all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Mine is a story of grace . . . penned without ink.</b></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-69226180975503929702020-08-11T14:07:00.000-04:002020-08-11T14:07:49.768-04:00Three Words to Live By<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>You've heard the old saying, "It's good to go, and it's good to come home." </b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Raekx_2-vHQ/XzLbvh2JPjI/AAAAAAAAGkU/AF3cHUB9qWAJV_VsnkUnybBFAcJlXzZ1wCNcBGAsYHQ/s361/suitcase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="361" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Raekx_2-vHQ/XzLbvh2JPjI/AAAAAAAAGkU/AF3cHUB9qWAJV_VsnkUnybBFAcJlXzZ1wCNcBGAsYHQ/w361-h270/suitcase.jpg" width="361" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Last week I returned from a road trip of over 1670 miles. I wound my way through the misty mountains of Pennsylvania, passed rows of giant windmills with outstretched arms, and tunneled my way through fields of corn and beans. Family in two mid-western states drew me like a magnet . . . every mile a little closer, every hour an accomplishment. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My trip was everything I hoped for. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Barry's siblings, their families, and I all gathered for a long-overdue rendez-vous over lunch. I enjoyed my sister and brother-in-law's warm hospitality where we picked green beans and zucchini from their garden, reminisced over breakfast, and chatted before bed. My youngest daughter and I laughed and talked, visited her workplace and church, and savored the sun at Silver Beach on Lake Michigan. I saw where she rents a room and rides her bike. We walked her trails together. On my last full day, she, my sister, and I picked blueberries in a large dewey patch in the country.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VVjgQyNV5eg/XzLXZkDw3VI/AAAAAAAAGj4/vUnSkU7M_rk_ZQw8gU5phsgIYVok_6U3QCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Beach%2B-%2BSilver%2BBeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VVjgQyNV5eg/XzLXZkDw3VI/AAAAAAAAGj4/vUnSkU7M_rk_ZQw8gU5phsgIYVok_6U3QCNcBGAsYHQ/w512-h288/Beach%2B-%2BSilver%2BBeach.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For me, the best parts of any reunion are the conversations. Seems we start out by catching up on the news and seeing whatever is new since last time. Yet, it's the sharing of thoughts and hopes and fears and dreams . . .<b> the sharing of souls </b>. . . that I treasure. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dkcaTNihNwE/XzLauJtCM1I/AAAAAAAAGkE/gIYpLVkungAB5UXvu8xR8xfDaabGBMV1wCNcBGAsYHQ/s301/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="301" height="250" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dkcaTNihNwE/XzLauJtCM1I/AAAAAAAAGkE/gIYpLVkungAB5UXvu8xR8xfDaabGBMV1wCNcBGAsYHQ/w376-h250/heart.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes multiple conversations blend together to give us a takeaway that rides the miles home with us, taking root in our hearts and giving us courage to face whatever's next. This time I've come away with three words. Three words to take with me through these next weeks of uncertainty and challenge.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">Gratefulness </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Faithfulness </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Contentment</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're like me, life's surprise trials can "throw you for a loop," as my mom used to say. We feel blindsided, panicky even - and find ourselves wondering, "Is this my fault? What could I have done differently to avoid this circumstance? What about the others this will affect? Where is God in all this?" </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We just want to get back to normal, after all. We want to be healthy, stable, predictable . . . f</span><span style="font-family: arial;">ine. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>But maybe "perpetually fine" is unrealistic. </b>Jesus said, "In this world you will have tribulation" (John 6:33), but He doesn't leave us alone. Can we trust His sovereign yet loving hand? Will we choose to express gratefulness to Him and to the people around us? Will faithfulness characterize our daily walk? Can we learn contentment, regardless? </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIhawlUlI8U/XzLbf9VFbvI/AAAAAAAAGkM/R2bvhJVShsko6CU6S5kWDXvxWO4r0I9_gCNcBGAsYHQ/s550/Prayer%2B-%2Bpix..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" height="294" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIhawlUlI8U/XzLbf9VFbvI/AAAAAAAAGkM/R2bvhJVShsko6CU6S5kWDXvxWO4r0I9_gCNcBGAsYHQ/w440-h294/Prayer%2B-%2Bpix..jpg" width="440" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">These are some of the questions I've been contemplating since coming home. A brochure came in the mail this week with these settling words: "<b>Because God loves us so much, He never allows pain without purpose.</b> He longs for us to run to Him and find shelter, courage, strength, and help in our times of distress. In these moments, we are drawn closer to Him and we begin to understand His working in our lives."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Gratefulness, faithfulness, and contentment. Three words to live by in troubling times.</span></p>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-28592139207889162382020-07-10T20:19:00.000-04:002020-07-10T21:04:23.579-04:00Blooming Where We're Planted<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--b-uEelK5OA/XwjZvhOD4TI/AAAAAAAAGb8/tUkGGf596lIoN1-1Zamh1-qgtIHDNw4SwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--b-uEelK5OA/XwjZvhOD4TI/AAAAAAAAGb8/tUkGGf596lIoN1-1Zamh1-qgtIHDNw4SwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Flowers.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>What's growing in your garden this summer?</b> Are you enjoying perennials like daisies, back-eyed susans, and day-lilies? Did you plant annuals? 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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love this time of year even if it is hot and humid! Seems we've waited a long time for the warmth of July. As I write, it's raining . . . a blessing to cheer up our brown lawns and thirsty plants.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q71Btj9bx88/XwjaKcJihhI/AAAAAAAAGcE/HU2feivhxxoUk_6YuZO_ojxFkhO4BMHCwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q71Btj9bx88/XwjaKcJihhI/AAAAAAAAGcE/HU2feivhxxoUk_6YuZO_ojxFkhO4BMHCwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Roses.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm not a landscaper by any means, yet so far this seems to be a good season. At least I'm enjoying the process. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary . . . just the usual weed-pulling and a little watering here and there. The blooms are opening up right on time, including my late husband's fragrant pink roses. The edibles have given me a special pleasure: rhubarb, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage . . . all in different stages, all offering their own textures and flavors. After a brisk walk, I putter around my yard every morning. breathing in the freshness (and batting away the gnats).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://learningandyearning.com/" target="_blank">My gardener friend, Susan</a>, says good soil produces healthy plants and nutrient-dense fruit. That's what I'm after. I weed and water, tend and prune, watch and wait. This week, as I worked, I thought about how God places us in the good soil of His grace. The heat, the storms, the pruning, and the waiting may lead us to doubt His divine green thumb, but the Master Gardener has a plan and a purpose for each one of us. Have you noticed how He pulls the weeds of self-reliance and pride? How He trims the suckers that take away our fruitfulness, all the while whispering words of hope?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Seeking Heart</i> by Francois Fenelon</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has touched my heart over the past few weeks. I found it in my husband's books and have been reading one short selection each morning when I come in from the garden. The other day, I underlined these words, "[God] trains you to fulfill His noble plans amidst the petty annoyances and aggravations of life. . . . [He] uses the disappointments, disillusionments, and failures of your life to take your trust away from yourself and help you put your trust in Him. . . . Nothing happens without His consent."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These words encourage me to see things from a higher perspective. Just as I often peer over the fence to check on my garden, so God has His eye on us, no matter where we find ourselves growing. Let's not shrivel up in doubt, discontentment, and self-pity. With confidence in His careful tending, let's bloom where He plants us.</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-66354965649686837822020-06-09T14:30:00.000-04:002020-06-09T14:30:56.521-04:00Perspective in the Pandemic<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbedwU5a_kg/Xt_SHPQTXfI/AAAAAAAAGTo/GkHJ6QBkJFEHoiKwqznG6Z6icMc9JE4swCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbedwU5a_kg/Xt_SHPQTXfI/AAAAAAAAGTo/GkHJ6QBkJFEHoiKwqznG6Z6icMc9JE4swCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/Bible.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The words jumped off the page! </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At any other time, I probably would've skimmed right over them, but during the Covid-19 culture they became the very essence of hope.</span><br />
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<b>Perhaps I should back up a bit.</b> Careful to follow the protocols handed down by governors and health advisors alike, I found myself with a scratchy throat and a hoarse voice. I lined up my usual beat-the-bug potions on the counter, fully expecting to be fine after a day or two. Just to be sure I took my temperature. Days turned into weeks with symptoms coming and going (none of which were on the C-19 list, I might add). Finally, I made an appointment, which turned into several more. I think we're finally almost to the end of this road.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">All that to say this: Between the ever-darkening newscasts and my own fear of somehow infecting my 84-year-old dad, I felt anxious . . . really anxious . . . and even guilty. What was wrong with me? Why didn't God intervene? I couldn't bear it if I gave something to my father. And what if this was something serious? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My usual take-what-comes manner flew right out the window, and fear and frustration began to take root in my heart. And that's when I read these words:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"And no inhabitant will say, 'I am sick'; </b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>the people who dwell there will be forgiven their iniquity" (Isaiah 33:24).</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can you imagine a day when not one person will say "I am sick"? Isaiah wrote about judgment and captivity to a nation who forsook God's ways, but he also penned poetry about God's promise to bring about the messianic kingdom, a kingdom the redeemed will one day enjoy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even in the the midst of a worldwide pandemic, herein lies our hope. Sickness will be banished. Sin will be forgiven. And the LORD will be our judge, lawgiver, and king. He will save us (33:22).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"Say to those who have an anxious heart,</b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God . . ." (35:4).</b></span></blockquote>
Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-82955270030299413682020-05-11T19:55:00.000-04:002020-05-11T20:04:50.780-04:00A Season of Remembering<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Could we ever have imagined the realities of the past couple of months?</b> Like it or not, we've learned a whole new vocabulary. We've limited our travels, our work, and our shopping. We've also reached out to others in new ways, using our compassionate and creative energy to cross the barriers to lend support and help. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For me, it's been <b>a season of recovery . . . and remembering</b>. Last time (April 5th), I wrote about the 17th anniversary of our family's car crash. In addition, as I sat in my recliner with ice on my new hip, I read through some of my late husband's journals. Some pages brought tears to my eyes. Others made me laugh, but every paragraph reminded me of the grace of God in spite </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">of our humanness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is also the month to remember my mom (May 1936-August 2013), my parents' wedding anniversary (63 years today), and the five-year anniversary of Barry's passing (5-15-2015). </span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Made me wonder what I've been doing the past five years! </b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Writing a couple of books, seeing Elisabeth through college, keeping up with my grandsons and their five-star moms (and dads), simplifying, maintaining my home, nurturing relationships . . . and learning, learning, learning all the way. I'm so grateful for God's tried-and-true promises.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I completed a project this past week that brought back multiple memories.</b> I made Elisabeth a quilt (i.e. picnic blanket) from a stack of her saved T-shirts</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I cut the shirts apart and squared up each block, then ironed fusible interfacing onto the backs and squared them up once more. The stack of squares and rectangles boasted logos and slogans from elementary school, high school, college, places of employment, our church, a 5K run, and her favorite vacation spot. </span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What stories they told! </b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I stitched, I remembered praying her through many of those chapters, usually coupled with motherly concern and a sense of pride as I cheered her on. The process reminded me of the promise in <b>Philippians 1:6</b> . . . the promise that we can be confident that He who began a good work will continue . . . developing and perfecting and bringing it to full completion (AMPC). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm learning that w</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hen we remember God's intimate involvement in our lives, we can better place our faith in Him when we peer into the fog of an uncertain future . . . humanly speaking, a future with no guarantees. <b>We can make decisions based on <i><u>what is</u></i> and <i><u>Who is</u></i> rather than on the fear of the <i>what-ifs</i>. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I invite you to brew a cup a tea, and <b>take some time to remember.</b> How has God blessed you? In what ways has He given you grace in the past? What promises from His Word will you claim? Let's make this season of remembering a time to also ask God to give us the courage to move forward into the "new normal" of tomorrow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Psalm 102:2</span></div>
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-19372476644826661522020-04-05T07:15:00.003-04:002020-04-05T07:43:56.229-04:00Remembering the Miracles<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Do you remember what you were doing seventeen years ago today?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>April 5, 2003</b> will forever be embedded into my heart - and the hearts of my family. It started out so normal, yet in a matter of minutes our lives changed forever.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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Dense fog engulfed us as we strained to see past the front end of our car on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The unexpected, eerie haze on a fair day spiked my pulse and revved up my every nerve. … I turned to check on five-year-old Elisabeth in the back seat. In that instant, a crushing blow from behind convulsed us back and forth like rag dolls. … Sickening terror seized me as the life-shattering impact snuffed out hope . . .</blockquote>
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Fire. Explosions. Screams. Scraping metal. These were the terrifying sounds that pierced the murky mist around us. Only one thought beat like a drum in my mind: <i>We have to get out of the cr. Out of the car. Out . . . *</i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This past week I found the box of cards so many caring friends sent our way in the weeks and months following the twenty-three care pile-up. Hundreds of cards. I opened every one, compelled to savor each loving, encouraging message once again. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3HhiiC2dj7A/XoeIdm6lQMI/AAAAAAAAFzg/wGtd0TQ2NG0-fsLrJrzS9aaYBeHeOHiWACNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/cards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3HhiiC2dj7A/XoeIdm6lQMI/AAAAAAAAFzg/wGtd0TQ2NG0-fsLrJrzS9aaYBeHeOHiWACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/cards.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Here's one that captured my attention:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>April 11, 2003</blockquote>
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How can words express what only the heart can speak? Know that you are constantly on our hearts and in our prayers during these difficult days.</blockquote>
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"I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; … Will the Lord reject forever? Will He never show his favor again? Has God forgotten to be merciful?</blockquote>
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"Then I thought, 'I will remember the deeds of the Lord, yes<b> I will remember your miracles of long ago</b>. I will meditate on all your works and consider all your mighty deeds . . .'" (Psalm 77).</blockquote>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XqVfkF3bQXA/XoeJjdJd2-I/AAAAAAAAFzw/mVytpWe07TAajQbw77JIZCNtOpAwptgyACNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PhillipsS-B-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XqVfkF3bQXA/XoeJjdJd2-I/AAAAAAAAFzw/mVytpWe07TAajQbw77JIZCNtOpAwptgyACNcBGAsYHQ/s200/PhillipsS-B-002.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Today is a day for remembering the miracles!</b> Humanly speaking, we should never have survived. Only God could've protected my spinal cord, preventing paralysis. Only God could've brought Barry back from a coma that lasted for weeks. Only God sustained us through our long and arduous recovery and the new normal we often found overwhelming.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">W<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">e're all facing many unknowns. In a matter of weeks, life as we knew it has changed in ways we could never have imagined. The future looks foggy and obscure. Economic and physical recovery seem unlikely. Fear lurks around every corner.</span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b></b><b></b><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The author of Psalm 77 faced similar feelings so many centuries ago. In his despair, he chose to remember the miracles, to meditate on all God's mighty deeds. It made all the difference.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I invite you to read or reread our story</b> told in <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Penned-Without-Ink-Trusting-Write/dp/193849931X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1585941233&sr=8-2" target="_blank">Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story</a></i>. Within its pages, you'll find story after story of God's goodness, and you'll share my journey of learning to trust God in the midst of uncertainty. I've also written a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Leaders-Guide-Penned-Without-Ink/dp/0692106006/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=Penned+Without+Ink&qid=1585941363&sr=8-3" target="_blank">Bible study</a> that will draw you into the Scriptures to dig deeper into the themes of trust. I pray it will be a blessing to you and bring you hope in these trying times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>And on this Palm Sunday, how about taking some time with your family to remember the miracles in your own story!?</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*Page 7,<i> Penned Without Ink.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">**Resources available on Amazon.com. Click <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Penned-Without-Ink-Trusting-Write-ebook/dp/B01JD887EU/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=Penned+Without+Ink&qid=1585942434&sr=8-2" target="_blank">HERE</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Leaders-Guide-Penned-Without-Ink/dp/0692106006/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_img_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=JP8GN7KPPYDGSWYXHT44" target="_blank">HERE</a> for more information.</span><br />
<br />Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-41024554695717420562020-03-10T16:12:00.000-04:002020-03-10T20:30:08.587-04:00Three Cheers for the "Cane Gang"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Sometimes our experiences bring us face to face with our misconceptions.</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LP-FSxHc4iM/XmfyreBe1CI/AAAAAAAAFuQ/43jijsaBM_MoA8dM7_Tuod7hUqFeZ57YwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Cane%2B-%2Blady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LP-FSxHc4iM/XmfyreBe1CI/AAAAAAAAFuQ/43jijsaBM_MoA8dM7_Tuod7hUqFeZ57YwCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/Cane%2B-%2Blady.jpg" width="128" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's one example. When you see a man or woman with a cane or walker, what's the first thought that pops into your mind? Do you pity them? Do you begrudge their slow pace? Do you wonder why it's worth their effort to venture out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've always had a certain amount of compassion for our senior brothers and sisters and those with disabilities. Maybe <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Penned-Without-Ink-Trusting-Write/dp/193849931X/" target="_blank">the 2003 car crash</a> that broke my neck, causing me to use a walker for a while, contributed to this mindset. But the last few weeks have heightened my awareness and challenged my thinking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was blessed to have a hip replacement three weeks ago. I'm doing well, having hurdled a few bumps in the road and being the recipient of many kindnesses along the way. (<b>Thank you</b> to those who prayed, sent cards, brought meals, and helped in a hundred other ways! I couldn't have managed without you.) Even so, being a member of the "cane gang" is not for the faint of heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My brother-in-law first coined the family phrase when my great aunts and uncles gathered at my parents' home for Christmas in the 1980s, bringing their canes with them (which doubled as crooks for little-boy shepherds during the annual Christmas play!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm learning that using a cane is not as easy as it looks . . . walking, climbing and descending stairs, getting in and out of bed, taking a shower, navigating the car. Using a walker can be cumbersome. Then there's the grabber, the sock-aid, the long-handled shoe-horn, the nightlights, and the grab bars, to name a few. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm also learning that every one of those aids brings more independence and more freedom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My neighbor inspires me. He doesn't see himself as "confined to a wheelchair." Instead, his chair has allowed him to "take a walk," hold a meaningful job, live independently, and contribute to our community in significant ways. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In a few weeks, I hope to pack up my walker and put away my cane. Yet, I will have more appreciation for those who require the use of aids. Let's not pity them or become impatient, but cheer them on. They have had to come face to face with the disappointment and loss of youth and agility and are finding ways to preserve their independence and keep their stabilizing routines. A smile, a respectful greeting, a listening ear, and perhaps a helping hand will go a long way toward helping them see their value in a hurried culture that seldom has time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Three cheers for the Cane Gang!</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-6412305896629851822020-02-07T21:03:00.000-05:002020-02-07T21:04:21.663-05:00Finding Faithfulness<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I settled myself into a chair at the end of the second row, among about fifty other seniors who gathered on a dreary Wednesday afternoon. I didn't expect to begin the new year here. Life has a way of taking unexpected twists and turns.</span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o994_oXVEsI/Xj4UiuPcFQI/AAAAAAAAFoE/GA_eYUOBM789sL9C9vih0Jg_yK_B2NdbQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="615" height="149" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o994_oXVEsI/Xj4UiuPcFQI/AAAAAAAAFoE/GA_eYUOBM789sL9C9vih0Jg_yK_B2NdbQCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/stairs.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It all began the day I took my Christmas decorations down and marched them up to the attic. I don't know how many times I climbed the stairs. Apparently, too many. I've learned to manage one bad hip joint, but when the "good" side began to buckle over the next week, I found myself in a pickle, clinging to the furniture to get around.. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few days of taking it easy helped, yet at times I still found myself grabbing whatever chair or counter happened to be nearby. After eight years of avoiding the orthopedic office, I made an appointment, hoping a little PT would do the trick. "Bone on bone, severe arthritis, cysts," they said. I couldn't argue with the x-ray.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After much prayer, consulting with "my people," and gathering up courage, I signed on the dotted line. Wednesday's required joint replacement class taught us what to expect, physical therapy tips, and risks.<span style="background-color: white;"> </span>I limped to my car praying,</span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Oh, Lord, h</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>ow can I be faithful in <i>this</i> circumstance, <i>this</i> challenge?"</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>How can you be faithful in <i>your</i> situation?</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ironically, last month (before I had any inkling of surgery) I blogged: "Over and over, God has given me every reason to trust Him. These evidences of His power and involvement in my life help me remember and practice the truth the next time my stomach knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3u-Y-BcZ5N4/Xj4VYNm1bEI/AAAAAAAAFoM/s7eoaee03C8xWYWvjPdm-ztYncMyM5uQQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="293" height="136" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3u-Y-BcZ5N4/Xj4VYNm1bEI/AAAAAAAAFoM/s7eoaee03C8xWYWvjPdm-ztYncMyM5uQQCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/book.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I just finished reading Kings and Chronicles and have been so impressed with God's supernatural power demonstrated in overthrowing armies, changing the minds of kings, and protecting those devoted to Him. His sovereignty down to the smallest detail throughout these chapters and His faithful hand in my own circumstances have brought me comfort.<b> No matter what lies before us, He's got the whole world in His hand! </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>And really, it's not about you or me anyway.</b> Paul, a prisoner in Rome, wrote these words: "I want you to know, brothers, that <u>what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospe</u>l . . ." (Philippians 1:12-14). Not only did all the guards hear about Christ, but the believers gained confidence to speak God's Word without fear. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Wherever God directs our days, we have the opportunity to reflect His light to those around us </b>(Matthew 5:16). Because of <u>what happened</u> to our family in a 2003 car crash, many have read <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Penned-Without-Ink-Trusting-Write/dp/193849931X/" target="_blank">Penned Without Ink</a></i>, the story of God's trustworthiness and grace in the face of trauma. Because of <u>what happened</u> in Barry's passing, others have gleaned strength from his legacy. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lEMpoaWKQ6g/Xj4KEbX3fdI/AAAAAAAAFnk/wCtYLzrWdMkDlhqYZXG5-ZITiltlGGVigCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Joni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="392" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lEMpoaWKQ6g/Xj4KEbX3fdI/AAAAAAAAFnk/wCtYLzrWdMkDlhqYZXG5-ZITiltlGGVigCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/Joni.jpg" width="140" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In 2017, <b>Joni Eareckson Tada </b>celebrated the <a href="https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/reflections-on-50th-anniversary-of-my-diving-accident/" target="_blank">50th anniversary</a> of the diving accident that left her a quadraplegic. Because of <u>what happened</u> on that fateful day, <a href="https://www.joniandfriends.org/" target="_blank">Joni & Friends</a> was born, an organization that not only gives support to those with disabilities all over the world but shares the hope of Christ. Because of <u>what happened</u> through years of pain and suffering, Joni's many books offer a unique depth and thoughtful encouragement. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Battles, prison, trauma, and pain aren't experiences we would choose. Yet, like Joni, I want to walk my journey well to the glory of God. R<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">eading the Old Testament stories along with Paul's prison experience put my surgery in perspective. Can you and I link arms with these heroes of faith and say, "<u>What has happened</u> to me has really served to advance the gospel."? </span></span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-10891258714399368722020-01-05T17:32:00.000-05:002020-01-05T17:33:34.300-05:002020: Are you Dreading or Trusting?<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>What are you looking forward to in 2020? </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHe-1Dx55i4/XhJhwHhtaGI/AAAAAAAAFf0/F_CL26KUEWQWExUEaWXvioFWzZ6mQH1wACNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/calendar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="282" height="190" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHe-1Dx55i4/XhJhwHhtaGI/AAAAAAAAFf0/F_CL26KUEWQWExUEaWXvioFWzZ6mQH1wACNcBGAsYHQ/s200/calendar.jpg" width="200" /></a></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A
long-planned vacation? A family reunion or wedding? A conference or get-away
weekend? A new season signifying a new beginning? I have a few things I'm
anticipating. Visits with my children and my growing grandkids always top the
list. Then, there’s planting a variety of vegetables and flowers in the yard, attending
a writers’ conference, and even spending a few quiet evenings with friends or with
a good book. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>On the other hand, what are you dreading?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'll be honest with you. At times, I find myself dreading quite a list of things. Things like managing a challenging relationship or tackling necessary paperwork or learning to navigate new technology. My conscientious side fears hurting those I love or making a mistake when it seems I'm feeling my way in the dark. And I don't look forward to facing health issues and growing older--alone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8KcGkeolXw/XhJg3mj_aXI/AAAAAAAAFfk/S5Hw42AKHAolY-SAj4kg0rfiKNUhklASgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/praying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8KcGkeolXw/XhJg3mj_aXI/AAAAAAAAFfk/S5Hw42AKHAolY-SAj4kg0rfiKNUhklASgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/praying.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></span></div>
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I'm learning that dread and trust are at opposite ends of the spectrum. </b>If I'm
dreading, even in the ordinary things, can I truly be trusting<b> </b>the God
who promises to walk beside me as my refuge and strength through both the big
and little challenges?<br />
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We’re not alone in this tug-of-war between dread and trust. Way back in the
days when the Hebrew people finally camped on the brink of the Promised Land,
Moses spoke these words, <b>"Dread not, neither be afraid . . . The Lord your
God Who goes before you, He will fight for you . . .</b> Yet in spite of this word
[the people] did not believe (trust, rely on, and remain steadfast to) the Lord
[their] God" (Deuteronomy 1:29-30, 32 AMPC). As a consequence of their
unbelief, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years instead of enjoying
the blessings God had planned for them.<br />
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Lately, I've been challenged by the apostle John's reminder to<b> "practice
the truth" </b>(1 John 1:6). The truth that God invites us to come to the
throne of grace to ask for wisdom. The truth that He will never leave us or
forsake us. The truth that He has a purposeful plan for our lives and will
guide us every step of the way. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h31BqxwY1b0/XhJhDstPQ_I/AAAAAAAAFfo/Hckc0FDcBrsWtTJk5zUxpYRaWeYPCnOpACEwYBhgL/s1600/God%2527s%2Bpresence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="363" height="186" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h31BqxwY1b0/XhJhDstPQ_I/AAAAAAAAFfo/Hckc0FDcBrsWtTJk5zUxpYRaWeYPCnOpACEwYBhgL/s320/God%2527s%2Bpresence.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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Throughout the past months, <b>over and over, God has given me every reason to
trust Him.</b> These evidences of His power and involvement in my life serve as
monuments to help me remember and practice the truth the next time my stomach
knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting.<br />
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“Dread not. Neither be afraid.” Words of grace to live by every single
day.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">When
I am afraid, I put my trust in you.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Psalm 56:3</span></span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-67593623979588930112019-12-28T14:17:00.000-05:002019-12-28T14:24:42.892-05:00Back to Bethlehem - Part 4<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Although Christmas 2019 is behind us, can we take one last lingering look at the little town of Bethlehem? This tiny village was <b>a place of <u>wonder</u>, a place of <u>worship</u></b>, and </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">also <b>a place of <u>warning</u></b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God knew what Herod was up to even though the wise men did not.
He warned them not to return to Herod. They didn’t insist on their own plan.
They didn’t try to change Herod’s mind. With humility, the mysterious Magi
obediently and quietly slipped out of the country another way, never to be
heard from again.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sD7LPPXW2kU/XgelZ9m7z9I/AAAAAAAAFdw/7vme45SOLzIyI-bPYNrfoxaHYMVd_OqtQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/flight%2Bto%2BEgypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="143" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sD7LPPXW2kU/XgelZ9m7z9I/AAAAAAAAFdw/7vme45SOLzIyI-bPYNrfoxaHYMVd_OqtQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/flight%2Bto%2BEgypt.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God,
ever watchful of His Son, also warned Joseph in a dream. "Flee to Egypt! Herod
is about to search for the child to destroy him” (Matthew 2:13). Joseph gathered the family together by night and headed south on a
journey that would take them over 100 miles to safety. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not long after, Bethlehem became <b>a place of <u>weeping</u></b>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Herod
must have been very insecure to allow an 800-year-old obscure prophecy and an
unknown infant to upset him to the point of murdering babies and toddlers. He was furiously enraged when the wise men foiled his plan -
and had all the male children under two years old in the region of Bethlehem killed. Cruel and ruthless killings. Babies ripped out of
their mother’s arms by soldiers with swords. Screams of anguish long to be
remembered. Do mothers ever get over the death of a child? Especially when
murdered in cold blood? Tragic.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But
the story doesn’t end here. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thirty<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> years went by . . . enough time for a 20-year-old shepherd to turn 50. When Jesus began His public ministry, did some of those same shepherds suspect that <i>this</i>
teacher, who spoke with authority, was the grown-up infant they had discovered in a manger in
Bethlehem so many years before? Did they witness the healings? Did they hear of the feeding of
the 5000 or the Sermon on the Mount? Where they among those who believed?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FvM4J9mxCcU/XgelomQXXpI/AAAAAAAAFd0/FfHVk3qoP0s9DWC23V3nlCATGzjMyRF5wCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/resurrection%2Bof%2BJesus.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="307" height="147" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FvM4J9mxCcU/XgelomQXXpI/AAAAAAAAFd0/FfHVk3qoP0s9DWC23V3nlCATGzjMyRF5wCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/resurrection%2Bof%2BJesus.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What
God began in a small town in Judea named Bethlehem, He finished on a
hill outside of nearby Jerusalem. Three days later, the resurrection of Jesus
made Bethlehem<b> a place of <u>winning</u>! </b>For <i>this</i> was the mircle that made it possible for our sins to be forever forgiven and for death to be swallowed up in victory!</span></span></div>
</span><div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><u></u><b></b><u></u><u></u><u></u><b></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the
baby in the manger to a risen Savior, Jesus offers us abundant life now and
eternal life forever.</span> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>“Thanks be
unto God for His precious, inexpressible, indescribable gift”</b> (2 Corinthians 9:15 AMPC). <br />
</span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
</span></span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-1798719465189974152019-12-21T21:07:00.000-05:002019-12-21T21:46:29.516-05:00Back to Bethlehem - Part 3<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Bethlehem</b> . . . a place of wonder and a place of worship. When we worship, we ascribe worth to someone. </span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Matthew
tells the story of the wise men</b>,<b> the Magi</b>: magicians, astronomers, astrologers
– possibly from Persia whose knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures could be traced
back to the time of Daniel (5:11). These men often served in the royal
court throughout the near eastern world as advisors. <u>A strange and curious
story, would you agree?</u> With intention and determination, they follow a mysterious
star all the way to Jerusalem and ask, “Where is he who has been born king of
the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2). How did they know?</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XBTiPFn-QWg/Xf7COgkFBtI/AAAAAAAAFbk/f-esnjIypPE78Fg9QvdW3c4mT1aM-umsQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Magi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="510" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XBTiPFn-QWg/Xf7COgkFBtI/AAAAAAAAFbk/f-esnjIypPE78Fg9QvdW3c4mT1aM-umsQCNcBGAsYHQ/s400/Magi.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>This
caused no small stir!</b> King Herod
gathered all the Jewish religious leaders together and asked them where the
Messiah was to be born. They knew right away. Micah, the prophet who wrote eight centuries before, had made it clear: Bethlehem.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Herod
<i>secretly</i> sent the wise men to Bethlehem. And already in his evil mind, a
carefully crafted plan began to take shape to eliminate this potential threat
to his throne.</span><br />
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As
the wise men went on their way, the <b>star </b>went before them and came to rest over
the place where the child was. They “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.” Presumably,
they had been seeking and traveling miles and miles for up to two years. What a
venture!! <u>The purpose of their journey was about to come to fruition!</u> They
came into the house and fell down and worshiped the little boy who they knew
was the king of the Jews. Imagine the scene. <b>Men of prominence in a little
house in Bethlehem. </b>And then they opened their treasure bags and offered Him
gifts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Gold,
frankincense, and myrrh</b> were standard
gifts to honor a king. These valuable gifts, full of significance, were given in an act of
worship and demonstrated their belief in Jesus' deity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>True Worship</b>
<b>goes beyond wonder to great joy as we ascribe worth to the Deity whose
wonderful plan for the ages includes you and me.</b> Will we humbly bow down and
worship the newborn King this Christmas? Will we yield ourselves and our gifts to
Him? </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Perhaps
you’ve taught your preschoolers this little poem: </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What can I give Him, poor as I am?</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I were a shepherd, I’d bring a lamb.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I were a wise man, I’d do my part.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What can I give Him? I’ll give Him my heart.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KB24_o1zh1o/Xf7Dn9_yDmI/AAAAAAAAFbw/Ce_UFgF6JvU8rJ17ht39LfZaz3XpQ3XWACEwYBhgL/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="301" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KB24_o1zh1o/Xf7Dn9_yDmI/AAAAAAAAFbw/Ce_UFgF6JvU8rJ17ht39LfZaz3XpQ3XWACEwYBhgL/s1600/heart.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Man looks on the outward appearance, the sparkle, the preparations, the
food and gifts and all the rest, but <b>God desires our hearts</b>.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-45947419868337092532019-12-14T09:03:00.001-05:002019-12-14T09:04:20.772-05:00Back to Bethlehem - Part 2<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.sarahlynnphillips.com/2019/12/back-to-bethlehem-part-1.html" target="_blank">"Will you come back to Bethlehem with me?" </a></b> (From Part 1)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Bethlehem</b> (House of Bread) was a small village 5 miles
south of Jerusalem, a grain-producing region which began as an
early Canaanite settlement on a caravan route. In Genesis 35, we learn that this town was the burial site of
Rachel. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>During
the period of the Judges</b>, Bethlehem
was the home of Ruth and Boaz, who were
the great-grandparents of King David. David’s family lived there, and he was
anointed king there. Thus the Scriptures refer to this town as the City of
David.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Although
there are other locations also attached to the Christmas narrative, it’s in <i>this</i>
seemingly insignificant town where we place our focus. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b></b><br /></span></div>
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</div>
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<b> <span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Bethlehem was a</u></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><u> Place of
Wonder</u> </b>– of amazement, awe,
admiration, astonishment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvaX2ZGkmn8/XfQKiSVk7jI/AAAAAAAAFaI/jMnXmz2xbXoETCEH1JufRkUCKz85MRzVwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Shepherds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="375" height="192" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvaX2ZGkmn8/XfQKiSVk7jI/AAAAAAAAFaI/jMnXmz2xbXoETCEH1JufRkUCKz85MRzVwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Shepherds.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Luke
gives an account of the <b>shepherds</b>, whose job it was to care for the
sheep, many of which were used in the temple sacrifices in nearby Jerusalem. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Can
you imagine the scene?</b> An ordinary
night . . . the sheep had settled down and their keepers were gathered around
the campfires. All of a sudden, an angel appears in the night sky with the glory
of the Lord all around. No wonder they were terrified (2:9)! But they still managed to hear the message loud and clear: fear
not, good news, great joy, for all people, the birth of a Savior, the Messiah,
the Lord (spoke of deity). The angel gave them specific directions of how they
could find this baby. And then . . .What would it have been like to hear an
army of angels praising God in unison? “Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace, good will toward men!” (2:14).</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWkAuumOjo4/XfQLNn7aFaI/AAAAAAAAFaQ/fAt3g-sBvxctoi7xAwMydsNsT0ds4TX7QCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Shepherds%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="283" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWkAuumOjo4/XfQLNn7aFaI/AAAAAAAAFaQ/fAt3g-sBvxctoi7xAwMydsNsT0ds4TX7QCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Shepherds%2B2.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The shepherds <i>hurried</i></b> <b>to
Bethlehem</b> and searched until they found the baby wrapped up tight in the most
unlikely of places - a manger. And there were His parents just as the angel had
said. <i>What a moment!</i> I imagine their story bubbled out as Mary and Joseph
eagerly hung on to every word, perhaps a confirmation to them that God’s plan
was, indeed, unfolding just as it was meant to be. </span></div>
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</div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The shepherds “made known the saying that had been told them
concerning this child.”</b> Can you imagine the band of shepherds traipsing
through the streets of Bethlehem, as dawn broke, telling <i>everybody</i> they saw
in this busy little town: “The Messiah has been born!” <b>Messiah!</b>
The very word breathed hope to these Jewish people under Roman rule. How they longed
for their Messiah.</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And
<i>all </i>who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them” (2:18). They
were astounded. They marveled. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Have
we lost the wonder of Bethlehem?</b> The wonder of the miracle baby in the
manger? The wonder of the Word being made flesh to dwell among us?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7uGHTqPfxA/XfQM5o5zsfI/AAAAAAAAFac/b2Pc2Zd2HMIhyHfTmqA2EsxjwwPn0Mt9gCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Jesus%2BTeaching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="375" height="198" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7uGHTqPfxA/XfQM5o5zsfI/AAAAAAAAFac/b2Pc2Zd2HMIhyHfTmqA2EsxjwwPn0Mt9gCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Jesus%2BTeaching.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Over
the course of Jesus’ life, many people wondered.</b> We’re told that his parents marveled at the temple
soon after His birth after hearing what Simeon said about Him: He would be a light to the
Gentiles and glory to Israel. Twelve years later, they found the missing
Son of God in Jerusalem. Remember Jesus’ words? “Did you not know that I must
be in my Father’s house?” (2:33; 48-49). Of course, they were amazed! </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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</div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Throughout
Jesus’ ministry, <b>many others were astonished, but not all of them believed.
</b>People in his home town (Luke 4:22-30). Many of those he taught (Luke 9:43-45; 11:14f;
20:26). Even His own disciples had weak faith (Luke 8:22-25).</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This leads me to think that <b>we can wonder
without worship but we can’t truly worship without wonder.</b> </span></span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<br />Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-50647040951292057452019-12-10T20:03:00.000-05:002019-12-10T20:03:32.441-05:00Back to Bethlehem - Part 1<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week, I had the privilege of speaking at the <b>Ladies' Christmas Tea at the Montrose Bible Conference</b>. We had a delightful time . . . music of the season, Scripture reading, a wonderful lunch/tea along with a talk from God's Word. Throughout the next several posts, I'll be sharing some thoughts from this event. So stay tuned!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We began our time together with a story, a story that is meaningful to me because my mom wrote it, and the little girl in the story is my youngest daughter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BACK
TO BETHLEHEM</span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By
Lillian M. Ewert</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just like a pre-programmed clock, the question came every
day. <b>“Is it Christmas yet?”</b> Our granddaughter Elisabeth, age 3,
anticipated something she could not remember experiencing. The Christmas tree, the pretty lights, and
the wooden manger scene caused her excitement to mount with each passing day.</span><br />
<b></b><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jTLTIY48rrU/XfA825JpJcI/AAAAAAAAFZ8/BV2DL-RcBfM6yE3CyAWBs6LVHiW-APiSQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="358" height="143" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jTLTIY48rrU/XfA825JpJcI/AAAAAAAAFZ8/BV2DL-RcBfM6yE3CyAWBs6LVHiW-APiSQCNcBGAsYHQ/s200/Christmas.jpg" width="200" /></b></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas finally dawned.</b> The family gathering at our house
always included a Christmas play presented by all the grandchildren which I
enjoyed directing. The adults provided the appreciative audience.<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span>However, changes had occurred over the years. Some of the grandchildren could not be there
and the adult audience had dwindled considerably. Elisabeth’s teenaged sisters no longer looked
forward to wearing bathrobes and angel wings. I wrestled with the idea of giving up the Christmas play but struggled
to find a fitting substitute to help us focus on the Savior’s birth. As I watched Elisabeth at play, an idea began
to stir in my mind.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>“Elisabeth, would you like to be Mary and put Baby Jesus in
the manger?”</b> I asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DU7AKjiGI2I/XfA8QItdBLI/AAAAAAAAFZ4/MSswtlR3nowX7FOF4VqChbziS1-5lSTKwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Back%2Bto%2BBethlehem%2BPhoto%2B-%2BLillian%2BEwert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="635" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DU7AKjiGI2I/XfA8QItdBLI/AAAAAAAAFZ4/MSswtlR3nowX7FOF4VqChbziS1-5lSTKwCEwYBhgL/s320/Back%2Bto%2BBethlehem%2BPhoto%2B-%2BLillian%2BEwert.jpg" width="175" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elisabeth’s eyes
lit up as she took my hand and we went into the bedroom to get ready. “Grammy, you be Joseph,” she said. I pinned a blanket around Elisabeth’s
shoulders and tied a scarf around her head. I placed the Baby Jesus, wrapped in strips of cloth, into her arms and
together we stepped into the living room and slowly walked to the manger. Carefully Baby Jesus was placed in the bed of
artificial straw. Mary and Joseph each kneeled beside the manger to admire the
Baby. The family began to sing familiar
Christmas carols previously taught by Elisabeth’s mother. Sometimes the Baby would be picked up and
gently rocked and placed back in the manger. Elisabeth’s eyes shone as she lived out the story that had become so
familiar to her in recent days. It
became obvious that she loved her role as Mary when she kept her costume on the
rest of the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the day drew to a close, the adults remained at the table
to talk while Elisabeth, who had been excused, played with her toys in the
living room. Before long, I felt a tap
on my shoulder and a little voice said, <b>“Joseph, will you come back to Bethlehem with me?”</b> Back to Bethlehem. “A little child shall lead them” (Isaiah
11:6).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the next few weeks, let's take Elisabeth's lead and find our way back to Bethlehem.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-71840329744039884112019-11-10T21:43:00.001-05:002019-11-11T08:46:42.609-05:00A Review of the Basics<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>This week, I went back to school.</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, for a few hours anyway. I joined a classroom of seniors at AAA in Dickson City for a Mature Driving Class for those 55 and over. Not only does taking this class reduce my car insurance premium by 5% but is tailored to meet the needs of those of us who are aging. I found it very helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Here are a few things I learned:</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">rive with your headlights on at all times, regardless of the time of day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A driver's hands should be positioned at or between the 9 & 3 and 8 & 4 positions on the steering wheel.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By age 60, drivers need three times as much light to see as they did at age 20.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Incidents of road rage increased 66% from 2017 to 2018.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you take your eyes off the road for just four seconds while traveling 60-65 mph, you travel 100 yards during that time (the length of a football field). Taking your eyes off the road is virtually the same as driving blindfolded!</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As one of the youngest i<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">n the class, the thing that impressed me was the teachable-ness of the class members.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We never know it all.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Guidelines change. Cars change. We change. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This rings true in other areas besides driving. We require a review of the basics and would benefit from a refresher course. We need a few reminders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In his second letter, the apostle Peter wrote, "Therefore I intend always to <i>remind</i> you of these qualities (from verses 5-7), though you know them and are established in the truth that you have" (2 Peter 1:12). And what were these qualities? <b>Faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection, and love. </b>And they come with a promise: "If you practice these qualities you will never fall" (verse10).<b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If we're not intentional in our focus, how easy to find ourselves absorbed in our own interests, in our disappointments, and in our shortcomings instead of "[making] every effort" to incorporate the characteristics listed in Peter's letter. Maybe this is a good time for all of us to go back to school for a refresher course - with a teachable spirit, knowing God gives us His grace in all things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">*Photos from bing.com/images/free to use</span></div>
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</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-29357786966655402082019-10-17T11:52:00.000-04:002019-10-17T11:52:38.803-04:00An Old Bulletin Board with a New Purpose<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I knew we still had it somewhere . . . a chalk board on one side and a flannel/bulletin board on the other, surrounded by a wooden frame. My husband made it as a college student, a project for a class called "Audio-Visual Aids" sometime during the years of overhead projectors, cassette recorders, and record players. Sure enough. I found it behind the attic door, along with a pocket chart, a flip chart, and some letter patterns of various styles and sizes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Back in the day, Barry and I used it to teach flannel graph lessons to Sunday school children. Later, when our daughters were home sick on a Sunday, I'd pull it out. We'd have our own flannel graph story of David and his sheep or Queen Esther or Jesus blessing the children. First, I would tell the story and move the figures, and then it would be their turn. They loved it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every Wenesday evening, I host a ladies' Bible study. This past summer, when our leader and I met to brainstorm some new ideas for the fall, she wondered aloud about using a bulletin board to display our prayer requests. Bingo! I had just what we needed! Once more, I dragged it down from the attic and dusted it off. On the left side, I pinned up the title: ASKING GOD FOR . . . On the right side, THANKING GOD FOR . . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V3HOGKjeXSE/XafNgvnsvdI/AAAAAAAAFIA/_5W1yMfRh5UJ9BeAAwTSn1MTbcxLg7QeQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Bulletin%2BBoard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V3HOGKjeXSE/XafNgvnsvdI/AAAAAAAAFIA/_5W1yMfRh5UJ9BeAAwTSn1MTbcxLg7QeQCNcBGAsYHQ/s400/Bulletin%2BBoard.jpg" width="400" /></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When the ladies arrive, the first thing we do is post our prayer requests and praises. Often, we move a request over to the right. We've seen answers like God supplying a wonderful housing option for a daughter in another state. The safe delivery of twins - a neice and a nephew. Grace to manage relationships and time and unexpected trials. Already we have seen God working in our circumstances and, more importantly, in our hearts. One evening, we gathered around in a "huddle," arm in arm, (Our leader is a coach!) and thanked God for His blessings. A simple exercise, but it touched me deeply. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This week, we lifted our hands as we prayed. I'm not usually so demonstrative publically, but again, tears wet my cheeks. Coupled with our study of 1 Peter ("Real Grace for Real Life"), our times of prayer have been meaningful. The community we share offers encouragement and just the right amount of accountability. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, if you have an old bulletin board in your attic, consider dusting it off and re-purposing it. God graciously hears our voices and our hearts. He's always working!</span><br />
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-51862439842904665352019-09-22T15:09:00.000-04:002019-09-22T15:12:22.684-04:00Hope for the Harvest<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Do you have a garden?</b> If so, what crops have you been harvesting?</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCtagDnhKJM/XYbJ04X5lpI/AAAAAAAAFCY/p9v78H7XKqUA2c09aadqwTbISkz0wHupQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="1173" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCtagDnhKJM/XYbJ04X5lpI/AAAAAAAAFCY/p9v78H7XKqUA2c09aadqwTbISkz0wHupQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/index.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Earlier this summer, I enjoyed picking my own chives, rhubarb, blueberries, raspberries, and more recently tomatoes, white onions, and red cabbage. As the leaves begin to showcase their colors, I've also been gathering squash and apples from a local farm market. There's something satisfying about harvesting the fruit of our labor. From the planting to the weeding to the watering to the gathering, it's an earthy experience, to be sure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This past Friday evening, my small group shared fall harvest dishes. We all sampled each one and compared notes about our gardens. Many around the table had little children, so I (as the grandmother of the group) enjoyed their young enthusiasm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also this weekend, I helped a friend with an estate sale. Her mom, now in an assisted living facility, has lived in the house since 1976. It boasted vintage dishes and clocks, old records and turntables, games and decorations, furniture and linens, all on display in every room of the house. My "assigned" place included the upstairs, where I answered questions and helped in any way I could. One gentleman was startled when I moved, thinking I was a mannequin for sale!</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qEPBNmGfxN4/XYbLUfZS77I/AAAAAAAAFCo/J2F9YKVvKoQ3Y99n7aYi7a6jxJfHYCxggCEwYBhgL/s1600/garage%2Bsale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qEPBNmGfxN4/XYbLUfZS77I/AAAAAAAAFCo/J2F9YKVvKoQ3Y99n7aYi7a6jxJfHYCxggCEwYBhgL/s320/garage%2Bsale.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also heard bits and pieces of conversation as lines of collectors, couples, and families made their way through the house and up the stairs, hands full of treasures. They talked about their grandmother's similar ivory brush and mirror set or commented on the vintage toddler dresses from the 1950s. Many admitted garage-saling was a ritual they enjoyed - even though they already had a house full of "stuff" and really should have a sale of their own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>So, what do baskets of vegetables and an estate sale have in common?</b> I've been thinking . . . gathering the harvest represents the culmination of our gardening efforts when we finally enjoy some tasty rewards. In much more significant ways, we've been sowing seeds for a lifetime. At the end of the season of our lives, we will harvest what we planted. It's not about all we accumulate, the "stuff" of life that will just be passed on. King Solomon wrote, "One who sows righteousness gets a sure reward" (Proverbs 11:18). Paul talks about "the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:11). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap . . . " (Galatians 6:7). I hope we will faithfully plant and water Christ's righteousness as we live out each day - with the assurance of reaping a harvest of blessing when we see Jesus. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Something to consider in this lovely season of harvest.</span></div>
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-2916053199883397382019-08-30T20:36:00.000-04:002019-09-11T15:42:21.770-04:00What's the Point?<div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I only get the newspaper on Saturdays and Sundays, but I do find the death notices and skim each one. Maybe it's a sign of getting older myself? I usually note the age of the person listed and, if it's mentioned, the circumstances surrounding his or her passing . . . a brief illness, a long battle with cancer, a car accident. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently, several in my circles have lost spouses, siblings, or parents. When I heard the news, I felt the same way as when I walk to the cemetery and happen to see a fresh grave with flowers laid on top. It saddens me. A life lived. A life gone . . . so quickly. Reminds me of the book of Ecclesiastes where the writer talks about the vanity of a life that is soon snuffed out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The melancholy part of me grieves. I feel unsettled . . . and vulnerable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There's a little phrase tucked in one of Paul's sermons in Acts 13 that I go back to often. It offers hope and focus, especially when, in our more <i>human</i> moments, we might be tempted to wonder, "What's the point if we all die and after a while nobody remembers us anyway?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's the verse: <b>"David, after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep and was laid with his fathers . . ." </b>(Verse 36). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did you see it? Yes, David lived and died, but he also <i>served God's purpose in his own generation!</i> He was a man after God's heart who gave himself to his contemporaries in multiple ways . . . from caring for the family</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">'s flock of sheep to governing the nation of Israel. He wasn't perfect, yet with intention, he fulfilled God's purposes for him and those under his influence. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5hFR_84PUtU/XWm-gT9XFNI/AAAAAAAAE8o/0LyTGDhBAVAaVED1GxNBmtdGL7riQJWjQCLcBGAs/s1600/generation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="375" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5hFR_84PUtU/XWm-gT9XFNI/AAAAAAAAE8o/0LyTGDhBAVAaVED1GxNBmtdGL7riQJWjQCLcBGAs/s320/generation.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Three millenniums later, we walk this earth to live out the same objective as David. To faithfully serve <i>God's</i> purposes (not ours) in our own circle of influence, for <i>this</i> generation - for the glory of God.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So the next time we read the obituaries in the paper, let them remind us of David's example. A worthy goal. A noble aspiration that sheds a whole new light on life and death. </span></div>
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-37827554266882794102019-08-13T21:45:00.000-04:002019-08-13T21:46:41.285-04:00Community . . . Quietly Caring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pQ64KRfPyoQ/XVNkWj0NnLI/AAAAAAAAE3M/ykwfveRqGsIKMQXkHawp326fY8iTy0kxwCLcBGAs/s1600/Police%2BCar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="286" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pQ64KRfPyoQ/XVNkWj0NnLI/AAAAAAAAE3M/ykwfveRqGsIKMQXkHawp326fY8iTy0kxwCLcBGAs/s1600/Police%2BCar.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Three police officers walked up my driveway to the patio where I sat with my daughter and her friend after supper. "Is there a Sarah Phillips here?" one of them asked. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I slowly raised my hand to acknowledge my identity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Can we talk with you for a minute?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The look on my face must have registered concern as I rose from my chair, apron still on, to meet them in the driveway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"There's no cause for alarm, ma'am," the same man informed me. He then mentioned my dad's name. "Do you know him?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Turns out, my dad's neighbors were concerned because they hadn't seen him for a few days. They did a little detective work, too . . . mail in the mailbox, car in the garage . . . and then they took action. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I told the officers of my father's whereabouts - Indiana with my sister. I had checked on his house a couple of times, watered the flowers, and checked the mailbox. He would be home the next day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the end, I thanked them for their help. And later, thanked my dad's neighbors for their concern (and gave them my cell number). It meant a lot to me that other people were looking out for my 83-year-old dad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There's something to community . . . people quietly caring for people. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Philippians 2:4</span></div>
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-24677283891107032262019-07-14T07:06:00.001-04:002019-07-14T07:06:46.575-04:00Forty Years . . .<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Bwwe81DHXc/XSfV3t6jTDI/AAAAAAAAEwQ/Y_dO6jk4Ot4Un5WHK-E4C4zSn9viHoyzgCLcBGAs/s1600/Wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Bwwe81DHXc/XSfV3t6jTDI/AAAAAAAAEwQ/Y_dO6jk4Ot4Un5WHK-E4C4zSn9viHoyzgCLcBGAs/s200/Wedding.jpg" width="112" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Forty years ago today, </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I married my college sweetheart. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After dating for over a year and a half and then waiting another two years after our engagement until I finished school, we finally tied the knot on <b>July 14, 1979</b>. We were young and in love, ready to face the world together. Barry taught Social Studies at a growing Christian school, and I practiced my homemaking skills and helped at the school and church. I fondly remember our first little apartment . . . </span></div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w1_TK4b6OPc/XSaJcSbWpoI/AAAAAAAAEvc/U601a5xhup4q5mxHbXEa49D9MkR8sls0QCLcBGAs/s1600/Barry%2B%252C%2BJana%252C%2BSharon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NxLv6m97Mxo/XSaGks7AulI/AAAAAAAAEvQ/WXj_jRZNZyE3VMfI0aVJrTUEY80ywJA6gCLcBGAs/s1600/1979-80%2Bbudget.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NxLv6m97Mxo/XSaGks7AulI/AAAAAAAAEvQ/WXj_jRZNZyE3VMfI0aVJrTUEY80ywJA6gCLcBGAs/s400/1979-80%2Bbudget.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Barry graduated from college, he was debt-free with $40 in his pocket from mowing lawns, just enough to drive home and find work to save a little before the wedding. I still have our first budget, all laid out on a sheet of notebook paper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We had no idea that God would bless us with three beautiful daughters and three little grandsons, that Barry would serve at Clarks Summit University for 20 years, and that we would be part of the same community for 32 years. </span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9_lnnROkyY/XSaKMBq6WKI/AAAAAAAAEvk/dKJEcwveV94r49_9zyyUQA9-1UucSV5vgCLcBGAs/s1600/Dad%2B7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every summer around the time of our anniversary, we tried to get away for a couple of days, just the two of us. He always had a plan in place. I wonder what he would have had up his sleeve for our 40th.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w1_TK4b6OPc/XSaJcSbWpoI/AAAAAAAAEvc/U601a5xhup4q5mxHbXEa49D9MkR8sls0QCLcBGAs/s1600/Barry%2B%252C%2BJana%252C%2BSharon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="200" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w1_TK4b6OPc/XSaJcSbWpoI/AAAAAAAAEvc/U601a5xhup4q5mxHbXEa49D9MkR8sls0QCLcBGAs/s200/Barry%2B%252C%2BJana%252C%2BSharon.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9_lnnROkyY/XSaKMBq6WKI/AAAAAAAAEvk/dKJEcwveV94r49_9zyyUQA9-1UucSV5vgCLcBGAs/s1600/Dad%2B7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="596" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9_lnnROkyY/XSaKMBq6WKI/AAAAAAAAEvk/dKJEcwveV94r49_9zyyUQA9-1UucSV5vgCLcBGAs/s200/Dad%2B7.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Time provides perspective. Looking back, I see the faithfulness of God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Unmistakable grace!</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6Y-HG7P-vo/XSc9yRi1f6I/AAAAAAAAEvw/hAdY8hlgfAACF8rZAaq95DfXKyJDe0tjgCLcBGAs/s1600/2012%2BFam%2BPhoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="400" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6Y-HG7P-vo/XSc9yRi1f6I/AAAAAAAAEvw/hAdY8hlgfAACF8rZAaq95DfXKyJDe0tjgCLcBGAs/s320/2012%2BFam%2BPhoto.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 14, 2012, Sharon's Wedding</td></tr>
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Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-84480457441101656492019-06-18T20:52:00.001-04:002019-06-18T21:00:39.145-04:00Slapping Mosquitoes<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bzzzzzz. Ouch. Slap. "Gotcha." Another one. Then another. Pretty soon, we feel itchy all over!</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-766Ot0Ih_ao/XQlQP9xOuDI/AAAAAAAAErc/O6USPJfSZFElODtuYtOW0BXy4MoFvJy1wCLcBGAs/s1600/mosquito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-766Ot0Ih_ao/XQlQP9xOuDI/AAAAAAAAErc/O6USPJfSZFElODtuYtOW0BXy4MoFvJy1wCLcBGAs/s1600/mosquito.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like it or not, this is the season for pesky mosquitoes. <i><a href="https://time.com/3311624/why-mosquitoes-bite/" target="_blank">Time</a></i> Magazine says, "Mosquitoes really <i>do </i>prefer some people to others." Those with Type O blood or a certain chemical make-up attract these blood-suckers. Other factors that invite them include dark clothing and movement along with those who are sweaty from exercising. If you're looking for a healthy tick and mosquito repellent, we like this one from <a href="https://www.beyondorganicsgarden.com/store/p63/ULTIMATE_TICK_AND_MOSQUITO_REPELLENT_8OZ.html" target="_blank">Beyond Organics.</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Sometimes life is a little like slapping mosquitoes.</b> First one thing "bites" us, then another, then another. Pretty soon we feel like we're dancing an unwelcome dance that's exhausting. And there's no end in sight. Even in the night, the bzzzzzz of worry keeps us awake.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SAEbdLv_6PI/XQlQaFT298I/AAAAAAAAErg/zPoP7z9pdmExzoy6_N6b-Jeb9PaqNjBMACLcBGAs/s1600/bug%2Brepellent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="356" height="188" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SAEbdLv_6PI/XQlQaFT298I/AAAAAAAAErg/zPoP7z9pdmExzoy6_N6b-Jeb9PaqNjBMACLcBGAs/s320/bug%2Brepellent.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've had a few "mosquitoes" buzzing around me lately. An unexpected car repair, several important decisions, the concerns of my kids, and most recently, a diagnosis of osteoporosis. I'm a prime candidate, I know, but the low T-scores still took me by surprise- especially since a healthy diet and exercise have been part of my routine. I've been researching and putting a plan in place to fight back, but the bzzzzz of concern and worry about any number of things follow me around like a hungry mosquito. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You've been there, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There will always be mosquitoes buzzing around, but we have a "worry repellent" available to us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>God is our refuge and strength, a very present and well proved help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its water roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.</b></span></blockquote>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-tdRNBQMe0/XQlQrk8bzhI/AAAAAAAAEro/r79ubPs3a0o-UaRJHuHQkK29yZlSru-UQCLcBGAs/s1600/God%2527s%2Bpresence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="363" height="186" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-tdRNBQMe0/XQlQrk8bzhI/AAAAAAAAEro/r79ubPs3a0o-UaRJHuHQkK29yZlSru-UQCLcBGAs/s320/God%2527s%2Bpresence.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What are your current circumstances? Will you and I trust God with our stories . . . though we face health challenges? Though reasonable expectations turn upside down? Though change brings about uncertainty and unsteady steps? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Be still. Cease striving, and know that I am God . . . the LORD of hosts is with us. (Psalm 46)</b> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is a God in heaven who invites us to His throne . . . to bring to Him all our daunting and pesky problems . . . and to find abundant grace and help in time of need (Daniel 2:28; Hebrews 4:14-16). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photos from bing.com/images/freetouse</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-47278802070318923072019-06-05T20:47:00.001-04:002019-06-18T20:52:30.405-04:00Oops! When God Sees Our Mistakes<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>When was the last time you made a mistake? </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mistakes come in all shapes and sizes, but the common denominator is the lack of realization that we have it wrong . . . until it's too late. A simple arithmetic error in the checkbook results in an overdrawn check. We lock our keys in the car and miss an important appointment. If we had treated a physical ailment earlier, we could have prevented present complications. We miss the ounce of prevention that's worth a pound of cure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We all know that "ugh" feeling. We should have known better, we moan. But, the fact remains, <b>we didn't know</b>. What happened was unintentional. Once again, our humanness got the best of us, and we're left with regrets and even guilt. We missed the mark in appraising situations, making decisions, and/or nurturing relationships. And in the process, we did the less-than-best or even the wrong thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm reading the Old Testament through this year. It's full of stories, laws, and worship guidelines for God's people, the Israelites. The death and resurrection of Jesus has replaced and fulfilled the sacrificial system and the seeming endless list of rules the people were to follow. I know that. Yet, as I'm reading, I'm looking for themes. Themes that speak to the character of God. And what I'm finding is both sobering and comforting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God was swift to judge unbelief and disobedience just as He consistently rewarded obedience and faith. Over and over again, the text speaks of forgiveness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What popped off the page were the paragraphs that begin with these words, "<u>If you sin unintentionally</u> . . ." (Leviticus 4; Numbers 15:22-29; Hebrews 9:7). <b>God understands our propensity to make mistakes, to display weakness (1 Corinthians 2:1-5), or to "sin" and not even realize it until later. </b>He made provision for His people's shortcomings in Old Testament times, and He understands our humanness and offers forgiveness today (1 John 1:9). He is strength in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-10) and sovereign over all (Colossians 1:17).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This reminds me of King David's words in Psalm 103:<b> "He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust"</b> (verse 14).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So maybe it's okay to make an innocent mistake, to accept our humanness, to lean into God's gracious perfection. And then when it's needed, to ask forgiveness, to make restitution, and to learn what God has for us in this moment. He is, after all, much bigger than our best efforts . . . and our worst mistakes.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos from bling.com/images/free to use</span></div>
Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-41890261983275935382019-05-07T21:03:00.002-04:002019-05-07T21:12:36.908-04:00Travel Fatigue? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9i1GvNpIq-U/XNHiqfnqixI/AAAAAAAAEjU/ZyLO6mTamqoigb6RMTTZv6ntrYPSt5ScQCLcBGAs/s1600/woman-s-hand-opening-door-11597434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="957" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9i1GvNpIq-U/XNHiqfnqixI/AAAAAAAAEjU/ZyLO6mTamqoigb6RMTTZv6ntrYPSt5ScQCLcBGAs/s200/woman-s-hand-opening-door-11597434.jpg" width="146" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, all the while wrestling my bag over the threshold and into the breezeway. Bone weariness and achy shoulders told the story of a long afternoon of travel in and out of the rain. The familiar surroundings and scent of the house welcomed me home. "Thank you, Lord," I breathed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm sure you, too, can relate to the old saying: <b>It's good to go, and it's good to come home." </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The past few months the Lord has opened up a number of speaking opportunities for me . . . from small groups to women's events and even a quilting retreat. I have been able to share our story and offer encouragement and hope from God's Word with women of all ages. The best part often comes after my talk . . . the hugs, the sharing, and even the tears as we chat about trusting God with our stories. I marvel at the tenacity of many who tell me what they are </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">facing. I pray for them all the way home. What a privilege.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the same time, <b>travel fatigue is real</b>, especially for homebodies like me! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Certain Scriptures have popped off the page during the weeks I've been coming and going. Like the verses in John 4: "[Jesus] had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar . . . Jacob's well was there; so Jesus, <i>wearied as he was from his journey</i>, was sitting beside the well (italics added)." In another instance, He slept through a stormy boat ride until his disciples woke Him up (Matthew 8:23-27). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Later, when Paul the apostle wrote to the believers in Corinth, he reviewed some of his experiences. Right in the middle of his list describing all kinds of dangers, hardships, and shipwrecks, he includes "on frequent journeys" (2 Corinthians 11:24-28).</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLu5PN2R1kE/XNHfofZaG8I/AAAAAAAAEjA/gZVw4sWSG_Ifid6Cd5uPZqLyIYHvVLN_gCLcBGAs/s1600/suitcase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="361" height="149" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLu5PN2R1kE/XNHfofZaG8I/AAAAAAAAEjA/gZVw4sWSG_Ifid6Cd5uPZqLyIYHvVLN_gCLcBGAs/s200/suitcase.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How blessed we are in the 21st century. The modes of transportation available to us far surpass walking for miles and miles. And we usually don't worry about severe opposition, lurking danger around every corner, hunger, and exposure to the cold. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There's a bit of comfort knowing that Jesus and Paul also felt bone tired as they traveled and served God. When I think about them I gather courage, purpose, and perspective.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's been said, <b>"Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap."</b> I'm not usually a nap-taker, but I am grateful for a quiet place to rest and reflect. I sometimes think of the verses in Mark 6 when "the apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while'" (Mark 6:30-32).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jesus understands travel fatigue. He invites us to rest.</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-6720480970576657672019-04-30T21:28:00.000-04:002019-04-30T21:31:08.238-04:00A Flip Flop Kind of Walk?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ht71nSxdO2I/XMjzFk6TOrI/AAAAAAAAEfA/xwzx6yyjcuYLbpK9kxI7B6_Eys4bf2XfwCLcBGAs/s1600/flip%2Bflops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="235" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ht71nSxdO2I/XMjzFk6TOrI/AAAAAAAAEfA/xwzx6yyjcuYLbpK9kxI7B6_Eys4bf2XfwCLcBGAs/s1600/flip%2Bflops.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>How many pairs of flip flops do you have?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is the time of year when we tuck away our sweaters, heavy coats, and gloves, and trade our boots and wool socks for lightweight fabrics, short sleeves, canvas flats, and FLIP FLOPS!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did you know that</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">flip flop style shoes have
been en vogue since at least 4,000 B.C.? They've been worn across the globe and throughout history. Egyptians constructed their flip flops from papyrus and palm leaves. In India, they used wood. Rice straw was used in China and Japan. Tribes in Africa wore rawhide flip flops. The British Museum displays a pair dating back to 1,500 B.C.* This is about the same time Moses discovered the burning bush, and God told him to take off his sandals because he was standing on holy ground.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It appears the flip flop is the definition of timeless fashion for men, women, and children!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>But there's a problem. </b>Flip flops don't offer much foot support. A google search revealed that wearing them too much can cause overpronation, flat feet, blisters, ankle sprains, and even broken bones. <i>We </i>like the way our feet look in them, but sometimes <i>our feet</i> aren't too happy. And the older we get, the truer this statement is.</span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tl8gIxXGMBQ/XMjzUgVMXEI/AAAAAAAAEfE/fMnDTEPaN0sDNuM3FDki-9wPKfCytDyAwCLcBGAs/s1600/sneakers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="231" data-original-width="287" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tl8gIxXGMBQ/XMjzUgVMXEI/AAAAAAAAEfE/fMnDTEPaN0sDNuM3FDki-9wPKfCytDyAwCLcBGAs/s200/sneakers.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If we're going on a walk or a run, common sense tells us to opt for footwear with more support: the stable, sensible, dependable sneaker!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This reminds me of the New Testament phrase, "We walk by faith, not by sight." <i>The Amplified Bible</i> says it this way, "We regulate our lives and conduct ourselves" by faith.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The walk of faith is not a flip flop kind of walk!</b> It's an intentional, courageous, conviction or belief in God's truth when we <i>see</i> His faithfulness in our lives and when we <i>can't see</i> Him working. That's what faith is: to believe <i>without </i>seeing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes, on our walk of faith, we're in a good rhythm. We're making progress. We enjoy many bright and beautiful blessings along the way. Maybe we have a walking buddy to encourage us along. The course is going well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In other seasons, the path winds uphill and then plunges down. We trip over our own shoe laces. We're out of breath. The ache in our side and pain in our legs feels overwhelming. We fall so far behind, we wonder if it's worth it to keep going. Or maybe it's all we can do to put one foot in front of the other. Or we even find ourselves crawling forward inch by painful inch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Can you relate?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As many of you know, God has given me the opportunity to write our story down. I'll always remember the day I received<i> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Penned-Without-Ink-Trusting-Write/dp/193849931X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1556672393&sr=1-2-catcorr" target="_blank">Penned Without Ink</a></i> in the mail and showed it to my writing critique group. As we sat around the table, one of them said, "And look, they even put a cross on the cover." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A Cross? Where? The rest of us studied that cover for several minutes, and not one of us could see it until Jo Ann pointed it out. Now it's the first thing I see. (Can you find it?) The design artist did a masterful job communicating that<b> in the midst of trauma and crisis, even when we don't see it, we are surrounded by grace. God's grace.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let's <b>take courage today</b> and lace up our sneakers. We have a God who sees us in our walk of faith. He hears our cries. He surrounds us with His love and care. Even when we can't see Him, He promises never to leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5-6). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">*</span><a href="https://www.panamajack.com/blog/6-things-you-never-knew-about-flip-flops/">https://www.panamajack.com/blog/6-things-you-never-knew-about-flip-flops/</a></span></span></div>
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**<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos from bing.com/images/free to use</span></div>
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</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-14821803389670586622019-03-26T20:45:00.001-04:002019-03-26T20:49:49.972-04:00Reading Between the Lines<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For months now, I've eyed that quiet shelf in my office closet, the third one down, with a lifetime of journals and prayer notebooks arranged in order by date. Over the years I've moved them from place to place as we've repurposed and rearranged, but not once did I crack one open to read the chronicles within. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you've followed my journey, you're familiar with my occasional yet repeated references to simplifying and downsizing. I've spent the last four years wading through a lifetime of accumulated "stuff," highly motivated by my desire to spare my children the weight of it all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's one thing to toss 1984 homeschool catalogs, donate dozens of VHS documentaries, and find teachers and students who gladly receive Latin and Spanish curriculum. It's quite another to decide what to do with decades of handwritten stories. Stories about family, events, celebrations, school days, worries, fears, regrets, life lessons, and well . . . whatever else happened to come to mind on any given day. Memories recorded in black and white . . . someday to be remembered in living color.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On my birthday last September, I decided it was my job to take care of these volumes in one way or another. In March, I finally mustered up the courage to begin. Page after written page, I read. Sometimes I found myself smiling . . . like the time one of the girls danced around the living room singing, "I can read! I can read!" Or when said daughter couldn't decide on which socks to wear to make her "shoes feel good." Or the day she got her head stuck in a chair at school. Another of them dressed up like Polly Pepper, and at Thanksgiving, a native American, complete with fringe and papoose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I found the record of when we paid off our house and the season we harvested 49 quarts of strawberries and canned umpteen quarts of tomatoes and pickles. I noted the day when Patches the Guinea pig died and how Daddy helped bury him in the garden under a stone painted yellow. I leafed through the celebratory stories of birthdays and end-of-the-school-year-parties, prayers and baptisms, swimming lessons and family outings.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sykHSuzpbZc/XJrB1Cq_SBI/AAAAAAAAEUU/1gacSfJVz6YP9gjvhJvapZ4BFnPUEeztwCLcBGAs/s1600/praying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sykHSuzpbZc/XJrB1Cq_SBI/AAAAAAAAEUU/1gacSfJVz6YP9gjvhJvapZ4BFnPUEeztwCLcBGAs/s200/praying.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But lest you think our lives were mostly idyllic, my eyes also traveled over pages of weary fatigue, frustration, busyness, uncertainty, and desperate prayers for wisdom and guidance. I scribbled, "God, where are you? I'm trying so hard. Why does it seem I will never be enough? Please take care of my girls." </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tears sprang to my eyes as I laid the book down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Can you relate?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I happened to mention my bittersweet experience to a friend who parroted back to me what she and I had talked about in times past. "What is true?" she reminded me. "Read your journals as an act of worship as you recall God's work in your life. Let go of the pages that are no longer beneficial." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">An act of worship. Letting go of the <i>If Onlys </i>leaves room for us to read the grace of God between the lines. His unfailing presence. His steadfast love. His promise of redemption. He brought us through those days . . . the learning days . . . the growing days . . . all for His glory. </span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Rm0uSSq_ZY/XJrELOhFejI/AAAAAAAAEUo/GP9mNC_2fW8elYRRVgzhXN-4k4ujW7p5gCLcBGAs/s1600/thHZD8NL5S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="375" height="137" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Rm0uSSq_ZY/XJrELOhFejI/AAAAAAAAEUo/GP9mNC_2fW8elYRRVgzhXN-4k4ujW7p5gCLcBGAs/s200/thHZD8NL5S.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's been good for me to review my life through my own pen. Humbling, really. Words have a way of representing a more accurate picture than memory. All these years later, I find myself worshipping God with a sweeter appreciation for His faithfulness . . . and for His readiness to listen to the broken, hopeful prayers of a mother's heart. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Behold, I am doing a new thing . . . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Isaiah 43:19</span></div>
Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147299343086254578.post-33857088594297970422019-03-10T20:43:00.000-04:002019-03-19T18:36:01.441-04:00Four Questions to Ask Your Kids . . . and Yourself<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When's the last time you "happened" to hear or read something not directed toward people in your season of life but nonetheless that grabbed your attention?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span>I turned in to <i>Focus on the Family</i> this past week while driving home and happened to catch an interview with <a href="https://celebratekids.com/meet-dr-kathy/" target="_blank">Dr. Kathy Koch</a> (Ph.D. in Reading and Educational Psychology) centered around her book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Start-Heart-Motivate-Compassionate-Responsible/dp/0802418856/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?crid=3M1YDYK2IDSTX&keywords=start+with+the+heart+kathy+koch&qid=1552260257&s=gateway&sprefix=Start+with+the+Heart%2Caps%2C148&sr=8-1-fkmrnull" target="_blank">Start with the Heart: How to Motivate Your Kids to Be Compassionate, Responsible, and Brave (Even When You're Not Around)</a>.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Although my 24-hour-a-day parenting days are behind me, I found the discussion intriguing. She talked about (among other topics) the five basic needs of children, the four roles of parents, and the difference between rewards/punishment and consequences. But what I took away were four questions to ask children in order to understand them better . . . perhaps every year on their birthdays or at the beginning of a school year. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Asking questions requires active listening, follow-up questions, and healthy discussion.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And these four questions are just as good for parents/adults to ask themselves and perhaps talk over with a significant other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here they are:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. What do I want to BE in my life (can include character qualities, professions)?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. What do I want to DO in my life?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. What do I want to HAVE in my life?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. What/Who do I want to HELP (causes, interests)?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's good to take a few minutes now and then to prayerfully evaluate where we are and where we would like to be in, say, six months, a year, five years. Not that God can't change our plans (Proverbs 16:9), yet goals propel us forward. For me, if I don't have a list, I get nowhere!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">C.S. Lewis once said, "You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." I have a little dreaming to do this week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So what do you want to BE, to DO, to HAVE, and who do you want to HELP? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here are the links to the programs from <i>Focus on the Family</i>:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.oneplace.com/ministries/focus-on-the-family/listen/motivating-your-kids-to-reflect-the-character-of-god-i-746232.html&source=gmail&ust=1552349272138000&usg=AFQjCNGr47vspjBH5lx9_KoO4X0OV3er7g" href="https://www.oneplace.com/ministries/focus-on-the-family/listen/motivating-your-kids-to-reflect-the-character-of-god-i-746232.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.oneplace.com/<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>ministries/focus-on-the-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>family/listen/motivating-your-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>kids-to-reflect-the-character-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>of-god-i-746232.html</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.oneplace.com/ministries/focus-on-the-family/listen/motivating-your-kids-to-reflect-the-character-of-god-ii-746439.html&source=gmail&ust=1552349272139000&usg=AFQjCNEQXxL8Fu-p8_q0zX1Li9jSsvgoSg" href="https://www.oneplace.com/ministries/focus-on-the-family/listen/motivating-your-kids-to-reflect-the-character-of-god-ii-746439.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.oneplace.com/<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>ministries/focus-on-the-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>family/listen/motivating-your-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>kids-to-reflect-the-character-<wbr style="display: inline-block;"></wbr>of-god-ii-746439.html</a></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photos from bing.com/images/free to use</span>Sarah Lynn Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03649366147972990901noreply@blogger.com0