tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79332801580208989412024-03-05T01:18:56.356-08:00My Walk of FaithFollowing the Light in a dark world. Doing my best to follow Christ. Trusting in His grace to make it.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.comBlogger540125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-90572798833749903712022-01-22T00:02:00.001-08:002022-01-22T00:04:08.571-08:0049 Years<p><span style="font-size: large;"> Today marks the 49th anniversary of Roe v Wade. For some it is a day of mourning and for many others it is a day of celebration. It's significance seems to be a little greater, or at least more on the forefront, this year because of the battle that's been going on in Texas over the heartbeat law that I believe just had a pretty solid victory in the Supreme Court. I don't actually know because in all honesty, the political side of abortion isn't where my heart is drawn. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm extremely pro-life, so I would love to live in a world where abortion wasn't even considered, much less a "right" that woman and men felt compelled to fight for, but I just don't think you will really find either the issue or the answers in the laws and politics. And frankly, when it becomes all about that, people get angry and dogmatic and the sanctity of human life just gets lost in the chaos. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was just 19-years-old when I found myself in an unplanned pregnancy situation. The situation quickly became a crisis as more people were added to the equation. My then boyfriend (now husband of almost 31 years) and I had only been dating for a couple of months when I found out I was pregnant. He was unemployed, his dad had just followed his mom and little brother back east and he was struggling to find solid roommates and I was helping him make his rent payments. He was 1000% willing to step up, do the right thing, support me and the baby and even marry me, he just wasn't in much of a position to do it. The first time my parents met Neal was the day he sat at the end of my kitchen table when we told my parents I was going to have a baby. Needless to say it didn't go over well. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Thirty-three years later, now a parent of my own young adult children, I think I have a better understanding of what my parents must have been thinking and feeling that day. Truth be told, my mom wasn't surprised. I remember she had been saying things about me being pregnant for a couple weeks, and when I stopped denying it and finally confessed the truth at that table, I remember her looking across the table at my dad with that haughty "I told you so" look. My dad on the other hand looked like I had ripped his heart out, completely betrayed. I think I understand better now how your children disappointing you can feel a lot like betrayal. That's what my dad looked like-- betrayed. And he was angry. The conversation didn't go well, and despite our announcement that we were going to get married and have the baby, the response was pretty much a very clear "over my dead body," from my dad. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That was when the pressure began. My dad had it settled in his mind that I would have an abortion rather than "ruin my life." So began the constant pressure to move me in the direction he insisted was the only way. I remember a lot of heated discussions and screaming matches. One of them even ended with my taking a flung remote control to the chest. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I don't want to make my dad out as a villain. I understand now how a parent feels when they feel like their child is going to ruin their life. It's a painful and desperate feeling, and as much as he was angry with me and at the situation, he was also scared. He was certain that marrying and having a baby with a guy I barely knew, who he and my mom didn't know at all and who didn't even have a job, was a really, really bad idea. And as a parent now, I can't say I don't understand that feeling and perception. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Before I got pregnant, I don't think I even knew what an abortion was. I do know when I found out I was pregnant that abortion never even entered my mind until my parents brought it up. Naively, I think I even thought it was kind of cool to be pregnant. My (older) best friend growing up had gotten pregnant at 18 or 19 and married her boyfriend. By then they had two kids and life seemed to be going pretty well for them. I don't remember, but maybe that was part of why I never even considered a downside to being 19, unmarried and pregnant. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The pressure from my dad was constant. My mom was more silent than usual on the issue, but I knew she stood with my dad on what would be best for me. If I was around my dad there were one of two scenarios happening-- screaming anger and disappointment or absolute silent freezing-out isolation. He was either coming at me or cutting me off. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was incessant. At the time, I not only lived with my parents, but I worked for them. I remember the day we were standing in the shop near the time clock when my dad broke the freeze-out long enough to turn to me with a searing knife of an ultimatum that pierced my heart. He looked at me straight in the eye and said to me, "If you have this baby, you will no longer be my daughter." And I knew beyond question, in the moment that he said it, he meant it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That's what shattered my Pollyanna pretending about becoming a wife and mom at 19. I had to face the fact that Neal and I hadn't been together long enough for me to be sure about him. And I would have no family. I am an only child, and up until that point, I was a daddy's girl. His disappointment was unbearable. If my dad walked away, my mom would too. I would have no home, no job, no safety net. I finally felt like my back was up against the wall and I had no choice but to give in. I just didn't think there was any other way I could make it work. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My mom made the appointment, I insisted she pay the extra $250 so I could be asleep. Thirty-three years later, I can tell you with full confidence that that was the grace of God. I have worked with, counseled and ministered to so many women who were awake for their procedures and 20, 30 even 40 years later they are still haunted and have nightmares about the sounds of suctions and crunching of tiny baby bones. That's not sensationalism, that's just facts. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Even though I agreed to have the abortion, I was never on board with it. When I went to my pre-op appointment and they did the ultrasound, I saw my unborn baby, though that wasn't something I really understood until years later when I was pregnant with my first born, Jacob. Thankfully God had done a great healing in my heart by then, but it still brought a gravity to that memory that I'd never really had before. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was ashamed of myself and my decision to have the abortion, so I lied about it. The agreement was that no one would know about it outside of my immediate family, not even Neal. He was working through a temp agency by then, so on the morning of the abortion I started the ruse with a phone call to him at work telling him I was having bleeding and cramps and I was going to go to the doctor to see what was going on. I can only imagine how helpless he must have felt that whole day not knowing what was going on. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I begged my mom the whole way to the clinic not to make me do it. I wanted her on my side. I wanted her to give me an out. She told me I didn't have to do it if I didn't want to, but if I didn't do it, I would have to face my dad-- alone. I already knew what that meant. He'd made that completely clear that day in the shop. I had to choose, have the baby, or have my family. And I did not have the foresight or faith to even consider the baby, all I could feel was the fear. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When we pulled up to the clinic, there were a lot of angry people outside, carrying ugly pictures, screaming ugly words. As my mom slowed enough to pull through the dip at the curd and into the driveway, a man came up to the window of the car and pointed straight at me and with anger and hate in his eyes, he pointed straight at me and screamed at me, "MURDERER!!" Suddenly, the place I least wanted to go became the safest place to be. Workers came from inside the clinic, put their arms around me and ushered me inside. I felt protected by them as they led me away from the chaos and hate. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Now, I need to say, I am certain many of the people outside the clinic that day were not angry, and were well-intentioned, and genuinely cared about me and my baby, I just couldn't see past the loudest and the angriest voices. The voices that rose to the top were voices of judgment and hostility, and they simply drown out any compassion and care I might have found there. I often wonder how things might have turned out differently if I had heard the right voices. I was looking for a way out after all, and perhaps if I had found a voice of hope, or an offer of help, I might have found the strength to make a different decision. I can never really know. Nor can I discount the way God used that decision I did make for my eventual good and for His glory. But please do not mistake that statement of faith as any kind of endorsement that for the decision to abort, or any encouragement that it turned out to be a good thing, because that just isn't so. There is no knowing what good or glory could have just as easily come out of that life being allowed to live. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My heroes from the clinic didn't remain heroes for long. The humiliation of the cattle call process of having an abortion was deeply felt. Traveling along like a lost sheep, following arrows on the floor barely covered in a hospital gown, looking into the faces of so many other women who looked just as conflicted as I felt was awful. Thankfully I remember only a little of the stirrups and the irritated doctor in the room where it happened, but I do remember waking up in recovery to the sound of anther woman's tears, whimpering as she cried out, "My baby, my baby..." And one of these same staff members who so kindly ushered us in to our "procedures" was now harshly and rudely reprimanding this woman to be silent in her regret and pain. Now the cattle call had become more like a cattle prod as we were all hurried to get dressed, get our cookies and juice (like we had made some sort of donation) and get gone. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was almost three years before I came to terms with the decision I made that day. I lied to everyone that I had had a miscarriage. I spent those years angry and hostile, and oddly enough extremely PRO-abortion. I know it seems strange, but that was my response, I wasn't just "pro-choice," I WANTED other women to have an abortion. I think mostly because I didn't want to feel so alone. No one was bragging about "exercising their rights" back in those days. Abortion might have been a dark and dirty little secret for some, but for me it became a mission. I remember trying to talk a friend in an unexpected pregnancy into "joining the club." Thankfully she made a different choice, but I remember the way I LIED to her and told her how simple and neat the whole process could be, as I pushed down all the pain, loss, sorrow, shame and humiliation deep into my soul. It bubbled up often as anger and venom directed mostly toward my mother over the course of those next years, even while we planned my wedding and into most of the first year of my marriage. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was the week of my 22nd birthday, just over 10 months after I married Neal, who still had no idea I had had an abortion that I had my first miscarriage. What a devastating day that was. In addition to being fully in support of other women having abortions, I was desperate and determined in my own life to get pregnant again and have a baby. I can't tell you how much I longed for it, and how deep the ache burned, so much so that I stopped taking birth control six months BEFORE I got married. And it hurt every day in the year and a half I spent trying to no avail. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Neal and I were at a couple's wedding shower the weekend before my 22nd birthday when my cramps from what I thought was a particularly heavy period got so severe he had to carry me out of the party and take me home. I suffered at home the rest of the weekend until I could finally get into the doctor where I was told I was in the final stages of a miscarriage. My heart broke, and I knew to the depth of my being that I was being punished by God, just as I believed at the time that I deserved to be. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My dad had to drive Neal to me at the doctor's office because I was simply too heartbroken to drive myself home. As I looked my dad in the eye that day, which I could barely do, I was the one who felt betrayed, but I think I saw heartache and sadness for me in his eyes. Neal did his best to care for me, but because he still didn't know the truth about our first child, he had no idea what pain and regret were really consuming me. It wasn't just that I felt sad about another baby lost, I felt guilty and responsible. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, I can say now that that day was a turning point in my life. It brought me first to Christ, then to healing. It brought me to a place of confession to God and my husband. Neal too came to the Lord through my return to church. God did a deep and methodical healing in my heart and soul. He did some restoration too. Almost two years after that miscarriage Jacob was born, and after he was, my dad apologized to me for pushing me into the abortion, and even though I had by then long forgiven him and my mom and come to terms with my own sin and culpability in my first, (and by default second) child's death(s), it put a nice closure on that part of my relationship with my dad. I finally felt like a Daddy's girl again. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Now I have shared a lot more of my story than I meant to, but I wanted to point out the need for kindness and compassion on the subject of abortion. Too many Christians, including Christian leaders are so passionate about saving unborn babies, that their desperation turns their words and sometimes their tactics into destroyers of communication where what is needed is an invitation to be heard and understood. It's why I don't concern myself too much with the politics of abortion. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That's not to say I don't believe there isn't value in that part of the pro-life movement, people need to follow their passions, and trust the Holy Spirit in themselves and we need to trust also the Holy Spirit in one another. Just because I don't feel like that's the ground where I feel like I need to fight (though I DO VOTE pro-life) it does not mean God hasn't directed other people that way. What is important though, is wherever we are fighting, we need to remember who the enemy is. I can tell you with 100% assurance, it is NOT the mother considering abortion. It isn't even the politicians and judges who are pushing and proponents for "choice." It's not even the doctors performing them. The enemy is the devil, and the fight needs to be against all of his tools. There is a LOT of deception, not just women who have abortions for whatever justification they come to. A lot of abortion advocates are sincerely deceived in their passion to fight for a woman's right to choose, and there are a LOT of doctors deceived into believing they are actually doing a good thing by "helping" women by providing a way out of a crisis. The (little g) god of this world is a masterful liar, and just about all of us are buying into some lie somewhere, and in this area, there are so so many people who are fooled. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Abortion is a tool of the devil. It destroys lives, not just the unborn, but often the lives of the women who have the abortions. I have been to rallies and prayer vigils against abortion and I have seen angry women screaming in my face about the RIGHT to abortion. And I have looked at them and KNOWN them, because there was a time when I was one of them. A LOT of those women are post-abortive women who are trying to justify their decisions or numb their pain through activism, and now that it's actually fashionable to have had an abortion, and shameful to be against it, they just shout down that hitch in their souls all the more. A woman full of pain and regret that the "world" says shouldn't feel negatively about participating in an act that deep down at the core of their natural being just knows should never have been. Pregnancy is a life inside of you, and the untimely and unnatural cessation of that life does something inside of you. Even if it isn't recognized, something breaks. It's a deep spiritual hurt that stays with you. And I don't care how many women say that it isn't that way, I have seen too many battle with it. It's like a form of PTSD. Even those women who are having abortions repeatedly, I believe, are just trying to bury that nagging unrest that abortion leaves in a soul. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The sad thing is, abortion has just gotten easier in these days with chemical abortions-- like an at home kit. Even the morning after pill is meant to normalize the process. Laws that make it legal for minors who can't get their ears pierced without parental permission are given the "right" and responsibility to make life altering decisions for themselves. It isn't right. Who among us thinks a 15-year-old has the life experience and maturity to make those kinds of decisions? I certainly don't. And in states like California, Connecticut and Alaska there is no age requirement for parental consent for abortion at all. We're talking 10, 11 and 12 year olds here. (If you don't see it, trust me when I tell you this is an issue with child sexual abuse and sex trafficking. And no, it's not better that a girl in one of those situations has an abortion, because all it means is she has now been victimized twice.) But this is where we are, and then we tell them there is something wrong with them if they aren't OK with the process of abortion, and I think that's a lot to put on a full grown adult woman, much less a young girl that is only steps beyond being a child. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But the pro-life movement needs to remember that there is no way to save an unborn baby without reaching its mother. There needs to be just as much compassion for the mother as there is passion for saving the unborn child. You have to touch the one heart to save both lives. There is no reaching and protecting the baby alone, not even through legislation and politics. Now I'm not making the cliche about hangers and back room abortions. but I am acknowledging that at this point, it is highly unlikely we will legislate abortion away, even if there are victories like the heartbeat law in Texas (which only limits abortion, it does not eliminate it.) </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The world has gone crazy these days, on so much more than the subject of abortion. At the center of all of the chaos is a lack of compassion and understanding. People aren't listening to one another anymore. Even within the church there is so much division and dissension, and a whole lot of anger and hostility. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I think a lot about the way Jesus interacted with people, women in particular-- the woman at the well, the woman caught in adultery. He met them not with judgment, but with compassion. He met them in their sin, their struggle and their hurt. That's the model that He left us with. I don't think it would be any different if he came upon a woman considering abortion, or a woman who's had one. I know that's not how He came to me. Care, compassion, kindness and forgiveness-- forget all the shortages on the shelves in our stores, this is where we are really lacking. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He left us with instructions to love one another. And I say this with full acknowledgement that this is a hard thing for me, at least beyond the subject of abortion, but we need to work harder and the act of loving one another, forgiving one another, caring for one another... even when we have to agree to disagree. They seem sort of cliche, but it's true, love the sinner and hate the sin. Don't judge and condemn the person just because you are rightly able to judge their sin. It doesn't define them. I am certainly grateful that my sin doesn't define me. "Murderer" is covered by the blood and the reality of "child of God," but even before I knew Him, He loved me, and the same is true of those people we find so hard to love. But we can do it, but only by His power and grace. The world could use more of both, and if you are His you are called to be a vessel of them. We all need to try a little harder to remember that and walk that out in His strength, one day at a time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Blessings, </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Diana </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-86418005018767994062021-12-27T22:30:00.003-08:002021-12-27T22:30:39.149-08:00Loss<p> When I was younger I used to love to preach and teach God's Word. I had a mentor in my life who saw something in me that I likely never would have seen in myself, and she was in a position to give me opportunity to teach God's Word in women's Bible studies, so she pushed me in that direction. Because I trusted her, I gave it a try, and I loved it. </p><p>I used to get to preach and teach all the time, first with women and then with youth group. I can look back and remember very specific moments of teaching where I knew God had shown up and given me a timely word to share. It was exhilarating to sense His presence that way and to see Him move among the women, and later young people where I was able (by His power and with His help) to give them something to grasp onto. It was like a nugget of Truth that I could offer with word pictures of every day things like, hair dryers, bagels and cream cheese, and broken pottery. </p><p>It was addicting. I wanted to do it more and more. It wasn't that I thought <b><u>I</u></b> was good, but it was the thrill of sensing His strength in me. For a long time there was a lot of opportunity, then one day, it was gone. People in power used it against me. People who had the ability to say "No," to me having an opportunity to share took it away. And it happened several times in several places. And it hurt. I would even call the way it happened abusive, but there was nothing I could do about it. </p><p>Oddly that's when I learned a lot about ministry... the mathematics of ministry you might say. I realized that God did not add or divide the way I thought it had to be done. I missed standing in front of rooms full of people to share His Word. Honestly, it hurt like hell. And I felt slighted. I never blamed God, but I did wonder often why He allowed it. I never got the answer I was looking for, and for a lot of years I felt very hurt and pretty bitter. I couldn't even talk about things like hopes and dreams, because mine had always included being able to teach and preach His Word and to minister in His name. The word "hope" would bring tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. I refused to even allow myself to hope or dream. </p><p>But in the midst of that, that's when that math lesson came up-- and He showed me that where as I thought I was doing more in front of a room full of people that a one on one conversation could be just as important-- maybe even more so. Actually He showed me that my job was just to be His vessel as best as I could be, and that even if He ever chose to put me (or anyone else) in front of a room full of people, or even a cathedral full of people, God would meet each person on an individual basis. Any teacher or speaker might say one thing, but by His power it might speak a hundred different things to a hundred different people, but even still that a single private conversation was just as important in God's eyes. </p><p>Eventually I got to a place of peace, or maybe resolve, where I could lay aside my desire to preach and speak without bitterness. In fact, for a long time, I really didn't want to do it all. I think maybe that's why even the writing stopped. But then I also got to the place, where I really didn't feel like I even had anything to say anymore. Then even worse, I got to a place where whatever I had to say wasn't good, and it definitely wasn't God or His Word. </p><p>It's a strange experience when you lose something you love, particularly painful when something is taken away without your consent, beyond your control. The peace I had, and even the lack of desire never really took away all the pain. It didn't fill the hole, it just made the hole easier to live with. </p><p>I think I've been thinking back on all of this more lately because once again I am in a season of loss and hurt that is beyond my control. My husband and I are losing our business, with it goes some of our freedom and autonomy. Neal is going to work for someone else, and I don't even have a job lined up. We took over the family business three years ago, and now as it closes in like three days, I feel like I failed. It's funny, I don't feel like WE failed, I just feel like I failed. But much worse than the state of our business is the state of our family. </p><p>I think if I'm honest, I probably missed speaking it into the the lives of some of the most important audience He had given me-- my kids. The other night I was watching Avengers: End Game (and I am tearing up even as I type this) and there is a scene when Thor goes back in time to visit his now deceased mother, and just watching their relationship I started to cry. I was jealous, because I don't think I have impacted my kids the way I should have. I don't think I did them justice as a mom. I love my kids, but I don't think I ever managed to earn that love a mom is supposed to earn from her kids. Although my relationships with my boys are in pretty good places, even though one lives thousands of miles away (and there's a time I would have said he went that far to get away from me) and the other is very independent, I don't know that they would miss me if I was gone. I don't think I earned that "My mom helped get me to my joy or success" moment. Even worse though is my relationship with my daughter, which is completely broken and shattered. So much so, in my heart of hearts I fear she might just dance on my grave. </p><p>And the thing of it is, there's nothing I can do about it. Or rather no matter how much I might do (though I will confess a lot of anger that at times makes me not want to do much at all) I still don't have the control to fix anything on my own. As close as I once thought we were, we are now that far apart and more. Sometimes I don't feel like I can survive the loss of that relationship, but I just have to keep breathing every day. Yes, I realize the story isn't over yet, but the loss is so painful and great and that I can't dare to ever hope it will get better. As the Good Book says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick..." I know there is a word of hope that comes after that, but once again, I find myself afraid to hope because of the hurt. </p><p>Dear God, life is so hard. And it certainly doesn't help that I haven't felt close to the Father in a really long time. Suffering through this last year I have had seasons of pursuing Him, but they always fall away... <u><b>I</b></u> always fall away. Sometimes if I am brutally honest with myself, I have to compare the way I treat the Father with the way my daughter treats me (minus the anger and animosity.) Sad thing is that not connecting with God is probably the greatest loss in my life of all. And even though I know I have the ability to make it better, I feel like part of me has lost the will to try. </p><p>Loss is heavy. Loss is consuming. Loss is hard. Loss makes hope feel very far away. </p>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-62170239650394248252019-09-26T22:10:00.003-07:002022-02-10T10:25:43.283-08:00The Lord is at hand - Vlog #1<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fIaUVOtoAOc" width="560"></iframe>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-66722770041965916602019-08-08T23:02:00.000-07:002019-08-08T23:02:27.555-07:00The DarknessI had been suffering horrendous anxiety and depression for months and months... maybe longer... I was suffering more than anyone knew, even though I was "leaking," no one really knew how dark my thoughts were, how much the sadness made it hard to even get out of the bed in the morning.<br />
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I didn't feel far from God, I knew He was still with me, watching over me, even calling out to me, but it wasn't enough to pull me out of my darkness. I was functioning, but inside I felt like I was dying...</div>
Everything was hard, and I felt completely isolated and alone even when I was surrounded by people-- even people who loved me. They couldn't see or understand that I was suffering.<br />
For as long as I can remember, there's been a fighter inside of me. Injustice doesn't upset me, it enrages me and when people around me were (are) being treated unjustly, I would rail against it, stand up and fight.<br />
I am loyal, and I am a defender. The fight in me made me look tough, maybe even mean sometimes, and I think it made people think I was strong. And maybe in some ways I was, but it didn't mean I didn't hurt when others came against me or treated me unjustly. But it was rare for someone to stand up and defend me the way I stood up for others.<br />
Looking back now I think they just thought I could handle it, but the personal attacks and maligning of my character was so long lasting and intense, it really beat me down. Added to a season of unprecedented stress and uncertainty, I just sank deeper and deeper into the pit.<br />
I knew God was with me, reaching out to me even, but I didn't have the wherewithal to reach back. I couldn't read the word, my prayer life was stagnant, not a bit of worship or connection would rise up and church just became a place I didn't want to be-- twice bitten, completely shied.<br />
For a little while in the fall we attended a church that was like a spiritual lemonade stand for me. Friendly and refreshing, I was able to take a drink and feel briefly refreshed, but it didn't satisfy the thirst, and I knew it wasn't home. Eventually it wasn't enough to even get out of bed for anymore. So I didn't.<br />
I think my husband could sense a struggle, but not one to push he just gave me space, not realizing I felt like I was dying right before his eyes.<br />
In addition to my emotional and spiritual pain, my physical body was suffering. It's all interlinked. I am someone who eats her emotions and I was self-medicating with sugar and carbs. That was a slippery slope because the more I ate the worse I felt. Some days I felt so dark that even personal hygiene was too much trouble. I got to the place that I started thinking about coping with my pain in ways that were completely contrary to my very personality. But it wasn't even until one of those moments that I realized how much trouble I was in. It was a terrifying a-ha moment on a Saturday night.<br />
The next morning was Sunday July 21st. I woke up to the sounds of Neal getting ready for the day. I asked him where he was he going and he told me he was going to make a second visit to a church I had actually recommended and he had previously visited while I was out of town the week before. "Wanna go with me?" he asked.<br />
Somehow, somewhere, some tiny bit of strength rose up and I said that I would. I got out of bed, got ready, and we went to church just the two of us. It was too hard to get the kids to go when I'd been setting such a bad example for so long.<br />
For the last few weeks in the darkness before that morning, it felt like the Lord had been trying even harder to get my attention. I felt like He kept saying the same thing... after months of being given "begged for confirmations" of His presence and provision in my muck, He seemed to have quieted. He was whispering only one thing in those previous few weeks... "Just worship Me."<br />
JUST... I understood the connotation of that word... It wasn't supposed to be about anything He was... or wasn't... DOING, it needed to be just about Who He IS... But I had forgotten how... and had perhaps even lost my "want to." Then one night that week before, I heard Him speak to my spirit just one word, "Exalt."<br />
So I went to church that Sunday morning. I sat in the back. And I cried privately through worship... not because I was having some big, wonderful spiritual experience, but because I felt like I was in a good church, I knew God's presence was there and all I could think was how much I didn't want to be in a position to let more people into my life. I didn't want to be open, relational or vulnerable-- and as the tears filled my eyes, I told God so.<br />
Then the Pastor spoke. He taught from Nehemiah about the importance of celebrating-- giving honor to God. He said other things too... deeply personal and direct things... things about hurt, betrayal, feeling lost and defeated... He talked about hurts... MY hurts... he even talked about where they'd come from. Things he couldn't have known, but I KNEW HE knew. <br />
HIM... the God of the universe was speaking through the pastor that morning, and whoever else he ministered to, he ministered to me... because HE was ministering to me.<br />
I left church that morning feeling just a tiny bit lighter. There was a chink in the darkness... just a little bit of light seeped in. It was warm, and I hadn't felt that warmth in a long time. I wanted more if it. So the next morning when I woke up, I got up just enough strength to push back the Monday morning cloud just far enough to roll over and grab my Bible and my journal. I wanted, for the first time in a long time, to pull myself out of the mud.<br />
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To be continued...<br />
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-75989952001679971172019-04-06T19:38:00.001-07:002019-04-06T19:38:10.161-07:00Abby Johnson's "Unplanned" <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_Hn8O_w1nYh5EmUfI_Cuw0x3IdKubc78mth-FucHqDtEeBnWcixyx5Wrh1NJqfdXnoXQBwkWEyR7v6k52PHl55dIqaVOjASyiYZ4hYGiswsDtkAJRy0ZqneJ_GmdvmhyphenhyphenkFLkcemNsEbF/s1600/unplanned.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="176" data-original-width="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_Hn8O_w1nYh5EmUfI_Cuw0x3IdKubc78mth-FucHqDtEeBnWcixyx5Wrh1NJqfdXnoXQBwkWEyR7v6k52PHl55dIqaVOjASyiYZ4hYGiswsDtkAJRy0ZqneJ_GmdvmhyphenhyphenkFLkcemNsEbF/s1600/unplanned.jpeg" /></a></div>
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After hemming and hawing for the last couple weeks, I decided about 3 days ago to go ahead and go see the movie "Unplanned." It's the story of a woman named Abby Johnson who was the youngest person ever named (at least up to that point) as a director of a Planned Parenthood clinic and how her personal experiences there rocked her world and led to her becoming a very loud and very credible pro-life advocate.<br />
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A week ago my husband offered to go see the movie with me. He said he just wanted to spend time with me and thought perhaps it was a movie I might want to see. That seems like sort of an likely deduction because (1) I am a huge proponent of supporting Christian made movies with Christian values, and (2) the subject of abortion is something very dear to my heart based on my own experiences. He was actually a little surprised, I think, when I told him I wasn't all that interested. We went to dinner instead. <br />
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I didn't really care to see the movie because, in all honesty, back when her story first broke and Abby Johnson first came on the scene of the pro-life "movement" (I hate that term) we had a pretty negative interaction via social media and she didn't like my questions or comments, and her response was to block me. It ticked me off, and I didn't think it was a very good sign that she could not handle questions from someone who mostly agreed with her. But in all honesty, I remember it just enough to have a bad taste that lingers in my mouth, not enough to remember exactly what was said. Maybe I was being a bitch, but honestly I think she was a little too zealous for me, and for me in the area of abortion, everyone requires a LOT of grace. Watching her story and knowing more than what was told in the movie, I can understand her being guarded and intense.<br />
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Back to this week, after my hubby brought it up, it kind of stayed with me that perhaps I should consider seeing the movie. No arrogance intended, but a lot of people in my little world consider me the person they would talk to about the subject of abortion. I'm vocal, I'm knowledgeable, I'm brave, and I'm compassionate on the subject, and as in most areas, I'm pretty much direct and no BS. So I thought to myself perhaps I should see the movie so I could speak to it if it came up. <br />
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I decided to invite my daughter along. She's pro-life; she even had conversations recently at school about it. It was an interesting exchange with a liberal acquaintance who was actually listening. My thought on that is that the new laws passing like in New York that now have legalized abortion up to full term are actually rattling some cages, and causing people to question where they actually stand on the issue. How's that for an unexpected backlash to the pro-abortion agenda (I have no issue with that term at all.)<br />
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I just felt in my spirit that my daughter should go along. I can't even speak to why other than that it was a sense in my spirit, so I asked her, and we agreed to get up early this morning and go see the early bird showing at 9 am. I had heard that the movie was graphic. My daughter watches war movies with passion and has no great issue with horror films (though she may watch those between her fingers crossing and covering her eyes.) So my concern for traumatizing her was pretty limited. I felt confident she could handle it. <br />
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The movie is well made. It doesn't have that substandard, "made on a budget feel" that a lot of Christian movies have. the acting was solid, there were no side characters that seemed like they had never acted before, it wasn't trite, not a single Christian cliche was uttered. (I swear, I really do like and support Christian movies!)<br />
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Some of it was really hard to watch. Unlike the rest of my family, war movies and horror flicks are not my thing. I only go when dragged, Though with a lot of war movies, I end up glad I saw them, but I never want to see them again. My husband on the other hand could watch Saving Private Ryan over and over again-- that one I won't watch even once. Platoon from the 80s with Charlie Sheen, still haunts me-- glad I saw it, never want to see it again. Traumatic.<br />
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As I watched Unplanned, there were parts where I had to look away. Blood, gore, realistic portrayals of abortion are there for certain. I don't like gore, but I didn't find it traumatic personally. What I mean by that is that my looking away didn't really have anything to do with having had an abortion myself. I would look away from the graphic parts, and I would see my daughter covering her eyes and hunkering down a bit. I got choked up a few times, and I heard her cry too. I didn't think a lot about that, she is a crier after all. <br />
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What I noticed through the movie as I watched was how familiar it seemed. From my own experience, I remember angry and violent "pro-life" protesters. I remember the kindness of the escorts. There was a scene where patients were being handed crackers, and I remember thinking, "Oh, they gave us cookies and orange juice." When the people of authority in the movie did questionable things, I sort of shrugged it off because it was all familiar to me. A lot of it reminded me of things I wrote in my own novel on the subject of abortion.<br />
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As the movie ended and Matthew West's song Unplanned began to play over the credits, I decided that I was glad I had seen it, and I was glad I had brought my daughter along. As we walked out of the theater into the bright sunlight she was sort of quiet. When we got into the car to drive to the store and then breakfast, the dark cloud over her in the car was evident and strong. I tried to talk to her, and my typically chatty, talk to me about anything kid was uncharacteristically quiet and stormy. <br />
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She asked me a a few questions-- "Does it really hurt?" Yes, I told her it did. Then she asked me questions about things I can't answer, because by the grace of God when my parents pressured me into having my abortion 30 years ago I was asleep for the procedure, so unlike many of the women I have ministered to in the last 25 years who are still haunted by those sounds, it was not part of my experience. I sometimes wonder if that isn't part of why God was able to do such a complete healing in me in a relatively quick amount of time. My heart hurts for the women who cannot say the same.<br />
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The movie hit my daughter very hard. "I know what abortion is, and I have always been against it, but I didn't <i>KNOW,</i>" she said. She was offended-- not by the movie, but by the truth behind it. She had a lot of how and why questions that she couldn't settle, and really couldn't even express, nor did she really want to talk about them. I think she was shocked by a lot of what she saw and learned.<br />
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That was the basic difference for us, I think, for me it was all familiar information. However tragic, violent or vile, it was nothing new to me. For her, a girl who has grown up in a generation where abortion has constantly been touted as a good thing, an empowering thing, a pro-woman thing... despite her willing rejection of all of that, she still really had no idea what abortion actually was until today.<br />
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I am so incredibly glad I took her to see it. I told my husband I wanted him to see it. And I texted my 18-year-old son and told him I thought he should see it too, and even take his girlfriend--though I had no idea what her stand on abortion is. He told me she is pro-life. I think she should see it anyway.<br />
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That's the thing, I told someone just a few days ago, that this movie wasn't really made for the pro-life person to have to see. If they were already pro-life and not comfortable with anything explicit or gory, then it was probably ok that they not see it. And if someone said to me that they couldn't see it for that reason, I still wouldn't judge, but I absolutely would challenge them to power through and try, because I think it is important.<br />
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The pro-life "movement days of the early 90's when there were protests and prayer vigils, 40 day fasts, sit-ins and "life chains" have passed. In all honesty, I think a lot of "pro-life" people nowadays are in one of two camps-- the still angry legalistic and adamant sect who cannot have a compassionate conversation OR the "I would never have an abortion and I think it's wrong but I would never push my beliefs on anyone else" perspective. That second group has grown in the last several years out of silence and lack of direction. People who used to pray, and go to prayer vigils, maybe even stand on a street corner on the Roe v Wade anniversary or march in a March for Life or pray outside a clinic-- they have just sort of lost their passion, and it has softened their conviction... OUR conviction.<br />
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I think everyone should see this movie. I think people who support abortion "in theory", or are against it "in theory" should see this movie and help them find some clarity about why they believe what they believe. I think people who truly believe abortion is wrong and that life is inherently valuable and begins at conception should see this movie so that maybe that will stoke some smoldering fire in their hearts and bring back the flame of conviction, because all over our cities, babies are dying by abortion every day. I think those most passionate feminist pro-abortion (beyond choice) advocate should see this movie, because if she (or he) is that certain about how they feel, they shouldn't be afraid to look right into the face of it.<br />
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The only ones who I would give a pass to are women who have had abortions themselves and still struggle from the sin and pain of it. I am NOT saying I don't think they should see it, but I am saying I understand why they wouldn't want to. But I would also say to them, don't stay there. Jesus loves you and there is a wealth of healing and forgiveness for you that God wants you to experience and know fully. There is a better way, and I'm not saying it's in this movie, but I am saying that it can be such a completed work that this movie doesn't have to be something that terrifies you. <br />
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I know this was a lot more than a review, but these are my thoughts walking away from that theater today. I am really glad I saw the movie, and I hope more people will see it, and it will have a great and powerful impact to help protect the unborn. Like I said when I wrote my novels, if even one baby is saved, then the movie has served the greatest of purposes. Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-43129797117555272432016-10-21T11:29:00.000-07:002016-10-21T11:29:07.927-07:00The Rhetoric of Abortion (In case you missed the Facebook post) <div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="813s6" data-offset-key="26mt-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="26mt-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"My body, my choice." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="aavs5-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"Right to choose." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b22k2-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="cv3md-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"Protection from back alley abortions." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dltkg-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"If you don't want an abortion, don't have one." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="d0ups-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"No woman can call herself free who does not control her own body."</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bovla-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">—Margaret Sanger</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8qfvr-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">It's ALL rhetoric. They are pro-abortion sound bites that have been declared and pronounced ad nauseam so that people pick them up as their mantra and pass it along until these faulty opinions are declared as Truth. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2q23s-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"My body, my choice." - There are lots of pregnancy preventative choices that can be made with your body, however, once a pregnancy occurs, it is no longer just a single woman's body involved. Yes, I realize at the female POTUS candidate likes to point out, an unborn child has no "constitutional rights" which would include "life." However life is not a right that the Constitution can even provide, so how logical is it that law should govern what God and nature provide. Life's value is inherent, not determined by want. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="cdr3e-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"Right to choose." - The REALITY is that abortion is a single choice that ends all other choices. If a woman decided to have an abortion, there is no "what else." You have the mother of a dead baby, period, end of story. However, when a woman chooses to give life, choices become unending. Keep the baby or give the baby up for adoption. In adoption a woman can choose open adoption to stay connected or closed adoption to move on with her life. That leads to the choice to reconnect or not reconnect later in life. If she keeps the baby she can choose to continue her education, postpone it or move her life in a different direction. Choosing to be a mother is not a tragedy. Choosing to be a birth mother is not a tragedy. With life comes an incredible amount of possibility. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8fvq7-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dpko9-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament." - Please, stop trying to pretend that protecting unborn babies is a priority only to a bunch of crotchety old men who just one to tie a woman to a stove and oppress her into some imagined substandard existence as a housewife and "baby machine." It's ridiculous to discredit the large population of pro-life people, INCLUDING women who believe abortion is wrong. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="e7pb7-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b2rmc-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"Protection from back alley abortions." - Legalizing abortion has not made it fail-proof and completely safe. First of all the number of deaths and complications from "back alley abortions" before Roe is highly overstated. It was not the epidemic it was declared to be. And the reality is that abortion is STILL a complicated and potentially dangerous blind procedure that can cause harm to the woman (in addition to the unborn baby.) Abortion not only puts a woman's future fertility in jeopardy, but maternal death is a real risk from unremoved body parts that can cause infection as well as perforating the uterus and potentially other organs as well. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bk3ed-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bc4cc-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"If you don't want an abortion, don't have one." - First of all this dismisses that the pro-life viewpoint is NOT concerned with infringing on the sovereignty of the woman's body, it is concerned with the protection of the tiny unborn human being who is unable to speak up for his or herself. We take issue with that child being sacrificed at the altar of convenience. Again, the actual necessity of abortion for a mother's physical health is less than 5% of abortions performed and was NEVER illegal even before Roe v Wade. However the rarity of abortion being a solution to a mother's health issue is again, minimal. As for the topic of rape, that too is a very small portion of abortions performed that the pro-abortion supporters life to stick their flags upon and it is a teeny tiny hill. Pregnancy from rape is not a very frequent occurrence. As for me, I do not believe the child should have to suffer the consequences of his or her father's crimes. Also there are studies that indicate that women who have babies from rapes find it can be very healing and redemptive, where as the act of abortion after a rape can increase their trauma. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2m7on-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">""No woman can call herself free who does not control her own body." - Margaret Sanger</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4ap4p-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Margaret Sanger, the original great proponent of "abortion rights" was a racist who advocated for abortion in order to eliminate/ reduce the births of minority babies. She had an agenda she sought to accomplish through abortion, and it was about oppression, not freedom. The reality is that abortion is NOT a liberating experience. It is not the "simple procedure" it is made out to be. Women, inherently, have been gifted with the ability to "create" and sustain life, and when a woman goes against God and nature, it is not simple. Hundreds of thousands of women every year find out after the fact that they have been lied to and deceived, that abortion was not "as easy as having a tooth pulled." They realize too late after the fact that it is a decision that cannot be unmade, and many women will live with the rest of their lives a regret that cannot be remedied. Another baby will not replace an aborted child, for women who find their fertility compromised they will mourn their only opportunity to be a mother with the biological experience attached, and for every baby aborted there is a mother out there somewhere who would have willingly loved and raised the life that was sacrificed at the altar of convenience and fear. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b221o-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Planned Parenthood and other abortion services are a business. They thrive on the opportunity to appeal to fear and uncertainty in women with an unexpected. unplanned pregnancy. They are the ones who make what has been "unplanned" and turned it into a crisis. It doesn't have to be a crisis. It can and ought to be simply a fork in the road. Sadly it has been proclaimed that the right is necessary because we no longer believe in personal responsibility. Pregnancy is in fact completely preventable, but we are reduced to being labeled as irresistible urges. Abstinence works. I grant that not all will choose it, actually giving into urges, and that's FINE, but birth control as well is HIGHLY effective in preventing pregnancy. I would dare say that the 15 minutes and a drive to the drug store would be a better gamble than risking the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. We ARE and should ACT AS more than biological urges. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="eu83n-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">There is no freedom found in abortion. As most of you well know, I do not speak from a place of judgment, I speak from a place of experience. I have been through the system and business that is abortion. And yeas, I have heard "You had one, why deny someone else?" And I tell you that is because I can tell you with certainty and experience that no one involved in "helping" me "exercise my right" cared about me. They lied to me about the process, tried to keep me in the dark about what the procedure actually was ("product of conception" and "lump of cells" are LIES.) In my case I accidentally SAW the ultrasound of my pre-born baby, and I watched their panic as they tried to hide it from me. (I didn't fully understand until several years later when pregnant with my son, after my first of 2 subsequent miscarriages) what I was looking at. I also saw their "compassionate care" change from before the procedure to their assembly line hurry to get their "patients" (for whom they no longer have patience) out the door and out of the way. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="be4ua-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I implore you, look past the rhetoric and visit factual information - medical information first and foremost, and please realize this is so much more than a political issue. One could suggest that a society is defined by the way it treats the weak, the voiceless, the helpless. Abortion is a wicked black mark on what our society has become. The reality is that from the beginning the "snowball" has continued to roll, from early term abortion (though I do not find that justified) to later and later allowances as well as the absolutely barbaric act of partial-birth abortion. There are advocates and arguers who believe that even after an infant is born it should theoretically not be considered a person with rights and still be candidates for termination. Others want to see this extended to the mentally and physically handicapped and you cannot unlink the subject of abortion from euthanasia as well. It is indeed a slippery slope and momentum DOES continue to move forward. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ai8c6-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">The right to LIFE has ceased to become a core value in our nation, and we need to educate ourselves and stand against that. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ak1mi-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish." - Mother Teresa </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="71ti-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">"We must not be surprised when we hear of murders, of killings, of wars, of hatred. If a mother can kill her own child, what is left but for us to kill each other." - Mother Teresa </span></div>
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-32795957227886359242016-05-04T13:46:00.001-07:002016-05-04T13:46:12.819-07:00Because I said so.... Parenting is hard. No ifs, ands or buts, it's just hard. And as exhausting as it was when I had two under two and a nine year-old, two teenagers and a young adult is WAY more exhausting. The oldest was a good little helper at 9 with the toddlers, but far way as a 22 year-old, he really doesn't even factor in much with the 14 and 15 year-olds. And living thousands of miles away now, he rarely contributes to my emotional and mental exhaustion anymore. Which is why when something about "empty nest" popped up on the screen at church on Sunday morning, I leaned over and high-fived my husband. There are some days, that I am happy to be in the home stretch. Both kids will be in high school by fall, and after #1 blazed through, I am well aware of how quickly it will go.<br />
<br />
I love my kids, don't get me wrong. And honestly, I am pretty blessed - they ARE pretty good kids, especially when I send them out into the world where they are apparently a little more apt to remember all that I pounded into them about respect for others as they grew up. They get it - well, they must, because their teachers like them, even find them "a pleasure to have in class." We're doing well with a girlfriend's mom, moms of friends tell me they are good kids. They are good kids. But they are good kids who at home like to argue, press boundaries, push limits and more often than I care for, wade in the waters of disrespect.<br />
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I get it. They are TEENAGERS - and that's what TEENAGERS do. (I feel like I should come up with an acronym... Tiring, Exhausting, Exceptionally Naughty...I'll work on it....) But a lot of times when it happens, the overwhelming thought that blazes through my head like a hot wind is, "I didn't raise them to behave that way." And I didn't. And sometimes my frustration really gets the best of me. (Though I have to admit my recent commitment courtesy of the swear jar to stop cussing, has brought the unanticipated side effect of more self-restraint... who knew?) <br />
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This past weekend both my kids crossed some boundaries with me. (Why do they always feel the need to tag team? I told my mom recently that as the mom of an only child she actually had it a little easier in the teen years. She started to disagree when I pointed out that at least when I was a teenager I sometimes went off duty to sleep. My kids seem to take shifts... but I digress.) <br />
<br />
I'm not here to trash my kids. And that's not actually what I am doing, but I noticed something this weekend, it really sank in deep. And it truly screams loudly in the face of "I didn't raise my kids that way." <br />
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My daughter and I got into a disagreement about her wanting to get her nose pierced. My decision is "No. Not till she's 18." And I told her so. I'm not saying that ought to be everyone's rule. I'm not saying it's a black and white issue, I'm just saying for me, "face altering decisions" ought to be made by an adult. I don't want my 22 year-old coming back to me someday and asking me what I was thinking when I let my 14 year-old get her nose pierced. My opinion for my child is that it is a trend that may not even last into her adulthood and it may definitely not remain her personal style, so "No, no can do." <br />
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She didn't like the "No," and she wasn't a fan of the "why." But I'm the mom, and it's NOT a democracy. I'm older, I'm wiser, I can foresee things she can't based simply on my added life experience. She thought she could get her dad on board (actually she thought he already was on board) because he has considered piercing his own nose and he told her once he thought it was cool. But when she tried to play the card in front of me, without knowing my thoughts and without any hesitation Neal said "No, not till your're 18," (much to my delight.) She threw a fit. And again demanded to know why.<br />
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I told her all my reasons to which she responded, "That's not a reason!" and later added, "You won't give me a good reason." Clearly I beg to differ, but when she harped and harped and harped I finally said those words every kid hates, "Well, I'm your mother and because I said so."<br />
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That made her indignant, and outraged, and a little too expressive, so I banished her to her room till she could better hide her disdain. My kids wear me down sometimes, more than I actually care to admit, but not this one, not this time. I feel like I can see what she can't, and I am confident I know better than her (for her.) She's 14, she doesn't know near what she thinks she does.<br />
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I've heard the beloved (and despised) "Because I said so," get a bad rap lately in the "parenting world." People have come under this misguided sense that our kids need to be treated like equals, and need to be reasoned with, and every answer needs to be understood and (gulp) agreed upon by all parties, and I say (because I'm not swearing anymore) HOGWASH!!!! <br />
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What a lousy bill of goods we have sold our kids to make them think that they always have a right to make their arguments and to make a way. That's not how the real world works. They will have coaches, and teachers, and professors and bosses all throughout their lives who will have the right, will and power to say "because I said so." Because it's my team, my business, my class, and you have to do things my way. And if we let them buy into the lie that they won't by letting them break the authority in our homes, we're fools.<br />
<br />
But even bigger than the people they will face in their lives, their is an ultimate "Because I said so," that they will have to learn to submit to, and that's the voice of God. God doesn't reason with us, or offer explanation of "Why" to everything He asks of us. Quite the contrary, most of the time if we will it to be so, what God asks of us won't make much sense at all. "Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Forgive those who have sinned against you." Yeah, I know, some of us understand the logic there, but we don't have to. We could argue, kick and scream and resist. We could demand to know a better reason why. But in the end "Because God said so" needs to be sufficient.<br />
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No, I'm not saying piercing her nose is equivalent to "don't have sex outside of marriage," but the heart issue that wants to argue both those points is the same-- self, selfishness, rebellion. And as parents, it's our job to help out kids work that out. Sometimes it's like pounding our heads against a brick wall, but "No," (to whatever YOUR conviction is with your kids) is NOT a dirty word. Quite the contrary, it's a necessary one. And "Because I said so," IS a sufficient reason.<br />
<br />
At my age and stage of life, I find myself trying less and less to understand the "why" or get a good reason for what God asks of me. I actually find some solace in "Well, God said so, so I am just going to do it for that reason alone." That's both in the logos (written) Word and the Ramah (personally spoken) Word that God offers. I am still in school because God said to go back. Does it make sense? No. But I assume God has a good reason. I also try really hard to continue to work towards forgiving those who I feel wronged by, NOT because I want to, but because God says I need to. And I know God is a loving God who wants what is best for me. And I trust in His character. I trust in His wisdom. I trust in His heart.<br />
<br />
And if you feel those same things about yourself towards your own children, then sometimes (more times than they might agree to) I encourage you, comfortably and confidently own the reason and express it freely, "Because I said so." <br />
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These kids live in a world where fighting that is encouraged. They (the society as a mindset) are so full of their "rights" that they will never even own their wrongs. They think they are entitled to whatever they want. But the real world isn't going to hold up that end of the bargain, and if you love your kids, neither should you. Say no where you feel the conviction to do so as a mom or a dad, and state your reason if you will, but whether they come on board or not, hold no guilt, "Because I said so," is totally legit!<br />
<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-1600494139567585992016-03-17T11:12:00.001-07:002016-03-17T11:12:22.219-07:00Totally Transparent (Because something should be thin) Today I am feeling completely uncomfortable and bound as my "fat pants" are practically cutting off circulation (which would be outstanding if only fat would die and fall off, but alas, it doesn't work that way.)<br />
<br />
I'm mad at myself - a year ago today I was about 30 lbs lighter and feeling great, but as is my idiotic pattern, I moved back on to the upswing of my weight roller coaster. Since round and about my 40th birthday, I have been pretty much following the pattern -- loss, gain, loss, gain, loss (oh that that would be where it ends, but no.) Here I am, at gain again. <br />
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It's sin. Totally and completely, without question - it is SIN. Gluttony - I think that qualifies as one of the seven deadly - but not just gluttony, it honestly goes much deeper than that. It's a lack of faith and trust; it's a rebellion - at least for me.<br />
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I am so disappointed in myself, but I can't blame anyone <i><u>but</u> </i>myself. I can make lots of excuses, and I can justify all day long -- stress, emotional hurts, busy schedules... pleasure, community, lack of support, but at the end of the day, I <i><u>know</u></i> what I need to do, and I fail to do it. Or rather I fail to keep doing it.<br />
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It's not wisdom or capacity I lack, it's perseverance. <br />
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The worst part about this sinful battle that I keep acquiescing in, is that I am really only hurting myself. That's a common justification for sin, isn't it? But i's also not true. When I don't take care of myself, I fail to give my family the best of myself. <br />
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Recently, I asked my daughter if she was disappointed in me. Her response was "I don't want to hurt your feelings." Poor kid, she killed two birds with one stone. She hurt my feelings (upon my invitation) and she answered the question she didn't want to answer. "Mom, she said, you're happier when you're thinner." And, well, she's not wrong. And it isn't just the best of myself that I am denying my family, but very possible, dare I say probably, I could be giving them LESS of myself (ironically) by shaving years off of my life.<br />
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I DO have an addiction problem - a sugar addiction problem. And I have some biological and physiological health issues that compound that problem, but I cannot use that as an excuse. Alcoholics shouldn't drink, and I shouldn't eat sugar. But once I do, it's like opening the floodgate to overindulgence. I need to better guard the gate.<br />
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The world is full of pushers. My 7-11 clerk is a great example. Starbucks and chocolate donettes as a weakness. And when the Starbucks go on sale for 2 for $4 I practically run a groove into the path between home and the store. And I like my little donuts with the drink. I buy one pack and he insists they are on sale 2 for a cheaper price - and I am an easy sale. Ice cream as a reward at 11 o'clock at night for surviving a difficult day, getting a cookie to go with my coffee when I am meeting with a friend, diving head first into the pack of Oreos because I'm feeling the stress - I never run out of excuses to go against good judgment and poison my body.<br />
<br />
It really IS poison for me. I have something called "insulin resistance," and when I eat sugar my pancreas overworks and though my blood sugar is properly maintained I have this excess insulin pulsing through my veins that demands more sugar to meet it - and the cycle goes on. Why do I do it?<br />
<br />
Because it feels good - for the moment. Oh that all sin doesn't fit that excuse. For the moment, the ice cream "on the lips" doesn't give an ounce of consideration to it's time "on the hips." For the moment, eating an Oreo actually does take my mind off the stress, and promotes no concern for the unbelievable regret that I find at the scale the next day.<br />
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The scale. I've stopped stepping on it. I've honestly decided that denial is easier. And for the moment, it is. But it doesn't have the power and strength to fully stave off the regret, disappointment and... shame. God - SHAME - such an ugly word. It's even worse as a feeling. <br />
<br />
So, tomorrow I am starting my detox. Hard and fast - literally a fast for a couple of days to kick myself into the process of getting sugar out of my system. I have so much to look forward to - headaches, fatigue, body aches, nausea - all the classic withdrawal symptoms. Not as severe as say detoxing from alcohol or drugs, but neither is it completely different.<br />
<br />
I had to wait until my school spring break because I didn't think I could manage my schoolwork this week in the process of detox. I wonder do drug addicts and alcoholics get "shit faced" the day before they enter rehab? Because I find myself making a point of final indulgences - Starbucks and donettes started my day. Why do I do that? <br />
<br />
There is always an excuse NOT to do what I need to do. My birthday is just a little over a week away. Stupid time to start a diet, right? No birthday cake? No sweets for Easter? And did I mention we are traveling out of town next weekend? It's going to be so hard to watch what I eat on the road! <br />
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It is. But I have decided that my birthday gift to myself is to try to get my act together <i>one more time</i>... and I know it will be hard, but anything worth doing is worth working at. I'm starting detox on a Friday (1) because why one more weekend against me? And I am hoping that by the time we leave for our trip, my sugar cravings will be significantly better and I'm hoping it's enough time the worst of the detox side effects will have passed.<br />
<br />
There is always an excuse or justification not to do the right thing. Right now I am feeling the weight (literally) of doing exactly that over and over again. <br />
<br />
I'm sharing here because once again I am trying to make myself accountable. And because I don't think, in fact, I know, I am not alone in this ridiculous and difficult battle. Maybe someone else will make a choice to take better care of themselves. And, honestly, I am a communicator and an outward processor - so here I am processing. <br />
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I pray God will get me to the place where the fruit of His Spirit will finally reflect Himself in this area of my life. I have always felt like there was a reason that Paul the apostle listed self-control last. It's hard to get there. But Lord, help me, I'm gonna try again. <br />
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<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-62993692197557152112015-11-30T14:19:00.001-08:002015-11-30T14:19:07.032-08:00The Pool of Mom GuiltI clearly remember the conversation with my friend. I was <strike>sort of</strike> bragging about my kids, talking about how good they were, and how lucky I was and how proud I was of them. And I was doing it in comparison. I wasn't flat out stating it, but in the same conversation I was talking about the choices of other kids I knew, other kids who weren't "walking the walk" and who were not making good choices. My friend was kind, and wise. Most of all she was prophetic. She said quietly, "Be careful, you never know when things might change."<br />
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And change they did, not long after that conversation at all, might have been a matter of days. Everything blew up in my face because the secret sins of one of my kids all came to light. And it was <i>bad</i> - really stupid bad, and it had been going on for a while, and I had completely missed it. Sadly it was not when my friend imparted her wisdom that I woke up, it was rather when her wisdom proved true that I really got it. And my whole perception of parenting and people changed after that happened. <br />
<br />
That explosive incident led to a lot of change. It was hard change-- like rooting up my family from a place my kids had been established their whole lives. And we had to deal with a lot of gossip, innuendo, judgment and more. When we moved to a new church we came in as open books, we needed help and most of all our kid needed help. He didn't get it all there, it was not like that place became our saving grace, but it played an important role. And eventually just being in that new place turned out to be a really important thing for our son. And it's something that may never have happened without the issue that moved us there in the first place - like a fork in the back.<br />
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I wish I could tell you that the "all things together for good" aspect made it all feel worth it, but along the way it didn't. And it wasn't like we moved on and everything got better. That's the thing about ongoing sin, secret sin, it takes the devil of a foothold and it doesn't go away easily. Sometimes it felt like two steps forward and three steps back. Some of the contention of those days still resides in our home and relationships, and there is <i>still</i> a fear that the battle isn't over. And really it isn't. Even as that kid walks in victory over that one struggle, there is still two other kids and a myriad of other battles to be fought - some similar and some completely different, and all really really hard.<br />
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In the midst of it, as a mom, I feel responsible. I look at my kids when they battle and I think, "Where is my responsibility? What did I do wrong?" I go through the long list of possibilities of what I didn't teach them, what I mistakenly did. What did I miss? What wrong example did I set? What should I have done differently? The pool of mom guilt is deep. I can't help but think that maybe we all must have to have it. Because what I realize now is all of our kids are fighting some sort of battles. And all will lose some, and along the way as a mom one cannot help but try to figure out what could have, should have or would have been done differently, <i>if only</i>....<br />
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And honestly, we probably do all have some level of culpability in our children's failures. I don't know exactly at what age that finally shifts off us, but the spoiled three-year-old, the bad mannered eight-year-old and the disrespectful fifteen-year-old, we raised them. Did we teach them everything we needed to? About not being selfish? About not being rude? About not being a general pain in the <strike>rump</strike> ass.<br />
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Recently someone close to me (in anger) accused me of being a bad mom. They said I didn't care about my kids, that I didn't care about anyone but myself. They even said I <i><u>wanted</u></i> my child to fail. I have to tell you, it really rattled me. And it really made me wonder if it was true. It was this simultaneous response of "HELL NO!" and "Is this true?" Because like I said, mom guilt is a deep deep pool. <br />
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It sucks when someone decides to play in that pool and stir up your mom guilt waters. Theoretical parents are good at that. You know, the people who have no actual children, but whose imaginary children "would never do <i>that!</i>" <i>That </i>usually being something you have either allowed your child to do, or more often, something your child has managed to pull off despite your best efforts. I used to have theoretical children myself, so I totally get how perfect they are - and how easy to parent they are. Unfortunately all theoretical parents should heed the warning that when the actual little exhausting sinful creatures show up to fill the roles of your theoretical kiddos, they rarely stay on script.<br />
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Young parents too are inclined to wade into the pool and stir the waters. Parenting infants and toddlers is exhausting physically, and I <i>get</i> that, but I have to tell you I long for the days that my sleepless nights had to do with poor sleeping habits and stuffy noses and were not because I was overwhelmed with anxiety about the life changing decisions my kids were in position to make. The shift of power does not wait until their eighteenth birthdays, it's rather a slow painful process with a lot of fumbles, failures and the opportunity for some long term life impacting poor decisions. And they're made by young dumb, inexperienced kids who really don't get it. "Too much power, not nearly enough wisdom," that's what I always say. And there is nothing about turning 18 that turns off the mom heart or the risk factors for stupidity, in fact sometimes in those college age years it just intensifies. And those middle school and high school years can be just as brutal.<br />
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The people who like to wade into the pool of mom guilt and stir the waters most though are our kids. They don't actually understand that's what they are doing, but it does not stop them from doing it. Every pain, every consequence, every poor decision causes the surface of the water to stir and it pulls at the parent heart. Like the ripples around the movement created, they push out and on touching in so many places you couldn't even anticipate. But they are not gentle or beautiful like ripples in real water, they hurt and they are hard and they can wear a woman down. <br />
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I look at my kids and they are "good kids" but at the same time the battle is strong, and sometimes their failures are cataclysmic. Sometimes God seems to sweep in and in great grace He rescues them from themselves, and other times they fall. Sometimes they fall in the exact same way over and over and over again. That is when I find myself fully submerged in the pool of guilt. Because it's when I know I have tried to teach them, love them, instruct and guide them and they <i><u>still</u></i> keep making the same bad choices over and over again that I become hopeless and distraught. Angry.<br />
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And it never fails as I look around I feel surrounded by perfect parents and their perfect kids. I become convinced I am the only mom in the pool. And other moms, they have the ability to stir the water then without even trying. Just the perception of their success makes me feel like I'm the only one. Sometimes it's moms acting the way I was when I was bragging on my kids that day before I understood. They don't have to be criticizing my kid to make me feel badly about how I parent, they can just be feeling great about how they parent theirs. I cannot help but wonder how many moms I talked to like I did that day that didn't call me out like my girlfriend did. Probably too many to count.<br />
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Back then I was the worst kind of mom. I was the kind of mom who thought I knew everything and had it all figured out. My first born compliant/ epically sneaky first child helped strengthen that illusion until he didn't anymore. And so I thought I not only knew the right way to raise a kid, but I thought my way was the <u style="font-style: italic;">only</u> right way. Boy have my children straightened me out on that one. There isn't even one right way to raise the three kids in my one home. And even with each individual way there is always change - age, stage, need, and more. And all of those factors, stones to throw and unsettle the surface of the pool of mom guilt in my world. <br />
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The longer I parent, the less I realize I know. I always say, "doctors don't know everything, that's why they call it <i style="font-weight: bold;">practicing </i>medicine." And it's usually to rebuke a bad prognosis. Well let me tell you, the diagnosis is what is settled in parenting, and it's called sin. And unfortunately it is chronic, incurable and constant - and worse, it isn't just the patient who suffers, but the mom who is <b><i>practicing parenting</i></b> as well. And yet as a mom, I am continually demanding of myself to figure it all out. I won't, but I will likely die trying.<br />
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My heart hurts for how hard it is to parent today. It is harder than it was when I was growing up - though that's not to say it was ever easier - but it is harder. The world is relentless in its enticement to draw our kids out into sin and darkness - which by the way seems like a pleasurable pool for a while when they waddle into it. And truth be told the enemy behind the lure has really amped up his game in the past few decades. It's really hard to keep him out. And for me, I know he has slipped past me a lot because I am just not as good at being as relentless as he is. (Enter more mom guilt here.) <br />
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I just don't think it's ever going to get any easier. And I think I am likely to always feel guilty about that. I will always wonder what I could have, should have and would have done differently, <b><i>if only</i></b>... maybe you feel that way too?<br />
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I don't write this blog actually offering any answers. And please, if you think you have them, please don't here with them and stir my pool. Because, even if you have answers, you don't have them all. And I would warn you like my friend did that day, "Be careful, you never know when things might change." <br />
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But if you get this, and you can relate to the things I am saying here, all of them or just some - let me encourage you, you are not alone. Maybe no mom will ever say so, but this mom thing, it's hard - and crazy guilt inducing, and filled with hard things. What do people say? "The toughest job you will ever love"? I'm gonna be real here and say, some days, you won't love it at all, and that's ok. Because we love our kids. And all we can do is the best we can do, but we have to do that knowing our best alone is never ever going to be good enough to keep the pool of mom guilt dry. But don't give up, keep pressing on. And if you believe in God, be sure not to exclude Him from your parenting, because in all honesty, I know I couldn't do it without Him, even when I feel like I am. He's faithful when I am faithless. Press on.<br />
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Some days the only solace I have is that my kids might be parents too someday...Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-41558717124713981082015-11-16T12:30:00.000-08:002015-11-16T13:00:50.107-08:00Untitled <span style="font-size: x-small;">You make me feel like a child again</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But never in a good way</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">You make me feel hopeless and powerless</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have no will, no voice, no say</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The words that you have spoken </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Can never be unsaid</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Even <b style="font-style: italic;"><u>if</u> </b>you took them back</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">They're still playing in my head</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Mother's guilt is a shallow grave</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Where thoughts of failure never die</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">They never really lay to rest</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">No matter how hard I try</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And you have given then new life</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">As they are screaming in my head</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But you just continue moving along</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">As if they were never said</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Of the many mistakes I have made in my life</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The greatest was to stay</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Maybe if I had walked differently</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Things wouldn't be this way</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But here I'm trapped because they are</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And I don't know how to leave</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">As I think of what should have been</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm left alone to grieve</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm left with your angry words</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And you with your justification</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">All I know is this mental video loop</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Keeps playing without cessation</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I don't see myself as a victim</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Though that's one lie you spread</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I see myself as a fool</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Who failed to use her head</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And the poison pervades my spirit</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Because I continue to drink it in</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But it's when I pour it back out</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">That it then becomes my sin</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Through such angry words</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I know something has died</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But something has also been birthed</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And won't be forever denied</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My prayers have changed profoundly</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And I'm willing to fight and scrape</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm keeping my eyes looking up</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Looking for the door of escape</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">by Diana DePriest</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">©November 16, 2015</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-33498916430461162172015-10-28T11:20:00.001-07:002015-10-28T11:20:09.142-07:00Pissed off rantIt's really hard not to be angry lately. <br />
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There is a heck of a lot wrong in the world. What's worse, a lot of what's <i>wrong</i> is being declared as <i>right</i>. And to make matters worse, if you don't agree, then that means there's something wrong with <i><u>you</u></i>.<br />
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Where do I start? OK, let's talk about abortion. I have always tried my best to walk a respectful line on the topic of abortion. Because although I know what it is, and I know how wrong it is, and I know how much God absolutely despises it, I have always found myself able to find grace for those who didn't get it. I would even go so far as to say I could understand someone being "Christian and pro-choice" when it was rooted in their "love" for a woman in crisis and not wanting to impose their own opinions and beliefs on others. I didn't AGREE with them, but I was able to understand it. And then this series of exposé videos about Planned Parenthood came out, and it really kind of clarified everything about what abortion is. It cleared up the misconception about "lumps of cells" and "fetal tissue." When they started talking about selling body parts and dissecting little baby brains, the lies about lack of humanity expressed in the past was pretty well uncloaked.<br />
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So the truth is outrageous enough. But what really pushes me over the edge is the fact that nobody seems to care. Social media is wrought with "Stand with PP" propaganda. People buy into the lie that abortion has anything to do with "women's health." No mammograms, no cancer screenings, just billions of tax dollars thrown at the business of abortion. The media barely even covers the subject, and when they do, it's all about protecting women again. We've got Whoopi Goldberg telling the world to stay the hell away from her vagina, and the people in the audience applaud. Babies keep on dying, Planned Parenthood continues their questionable business practices, and we keep bankrolling it with our tax dollars. Doesn't even matter that the brutal truth is not out there for all to see, Ignorance is no longer an option, but it's still the preference. I don't hear much about it from the church either, no pastor or priest, not from the pulpit. "God forbid" we might offend.<br />
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I heard yesterday that Caitlyn Jenner is getting woman of the year. I'd like to question if she qualifies since she wasn't actually a woman for the whole year. (Tongue firmly in cheek.) Don't call that sin. Today it is perfectly fine to define your own gender, your own race, your own anything as long as you choose to "identify." Bathrooms and locker rooms in high schools need to be gender neutral? Because we can't ask the one transgender student to change in a restroom, it's better to let the 100 girls in the girls' locker room be uncomfortable and suffer the choice. And, now I'm a bigot for saying so.<br />
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I'm not alone though, there are a whole lot of us bigots out there these days. In fact every single white police officer who has a heated interaction with a person of color is doing so because they are a bigot. They are racial profiling, or they are singling the person out all based on their race -- it has ZERO to do with the fact that they are in violation of a law, or acting in some suspicious manner, and has nothing to do with the fact that they have no respect for the authority invested in the police officer who has been SWORN to protect. Nope, it's all on the cop, he has to be the bigot. Oh by the way, if you want to talk about a black man or an illegal alien (oops, I think I just committed hate speech) who commits a crime against a white woman-- well now you're a bigot all over again.<br />
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Did I mention illegal aliens? Oh darn, hate speech again... I can't remember the newest politically correct term. Sorry. But how dare you think your nation should be allowed to protect its borders and manage immigration. You're supposed to let anyone and everyone in, no questions asked. Because that's how you keep a nation safe.... right? Right?<br />
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Well laws, you know, they're just sort of useless. We should all really be allowed to pick and choose which ones we follow, sort of like a supermarket of human responsibility. "Drug use is a victimleess" crime... OK, tell that to the family who is burying their loved one who died from an overdose. Or let's talk about the draw on society that comes from someone who is too stoned to contribute, C*O*N*T*R*I*B*U*T*E.... Back in the olden days, we called that working. And everyone was expected to do it. Now we're destroyong job opportunities right and left (when was the last time you walked through the self-check out? Did you hear about that huge U.S. construction project where all the workers were brought in from China?) But by all means, let's require the evil big business to pay the one worker who stand twiddling his thumbs while everyone else checks themselves out $15 an hour, and provide him health insurance to boot.<br />
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When I was 16 I got paid minimum wage - $3.35/ hour. I worked my butt off for it, hostessing, waitressing. But you know what? My minimum wage job was never meant to be the career I had to have a life and a family. Flipping burgers is a teenager's job, not for someone claiming "head of household" on their income taxes. So why do we want to pay them $15 an hour? Cost of living? Nobody was ever supposed to live off flipping burgers.<br />
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Burgers by the way? They're going to kill you, and a bacon burger? Well, that should flat out be made illegal, so says the WHO. Who? The World Health Organization says your bacon causes cancer, and maybe they shouldn't let you eat it anymore. That's a serious danger, and like Michelle Obama and school lunches, they don't think you're smart enough to make good choices for yourself. And you know what? Maybe you're not, but I say, if you want to eat yourself into a heart attack, more power to you. I mean after all, if we shouldn't stop you from doing drugs.... Are we beginning to see the inconsistency here?<br />
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So let's get rid of the bacon burgers, but terrorist threats? Well, that's not actually acceptable for you to assume. Don't even talk about it. We need a new term for that as well. Shame on you if you take issue with any of the tenets of the Muslim faith. Sharia law really should have a place here, but Constitutional law? Well, that's kinda questionable.<br />
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Like that little pesky 2nd amendment. That's old and outdated and really needs to be repealed. You don't need to have the right to bear arms to potentially protect yourself from a government that may try to usurp your individual rights, because seriously, that's NEVER going to happen.... Ahem...<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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I'm a horrible terrible awful Christian, I know. In fact, if I am a Christian at all is seriously in question because I don't think I am actually showing all the necessary tell-tale signs. "Peace, joy and love," aren't my go to when I see innocent babies being killed, and sin being praised, and an oppressive government on the rise. I lack faith if I stand up and say my peace against it... surely.<br />
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But then again, we were told in the Bible to be "wise as serpents" in our efforts to be "innocent as doves." And I don't think wisdom denies what's happening in the world around us. And I don't think wisdom turns a blind eye. I don't think wisdom refuses to call sin sin at all. I don't think wisdom stays silent and refuses to shout out the warning.<br />
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Being the light means bringing LIGHT to DARK places. It means exposure to things hidden in darkness. And sometimes that means the loving this to do is speak Truth even when it costs you.<br />
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So the end of my pissed off rant says, what is happening in our world is NOT ok. And we need to stand against the darkness a call it out.<br />
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End rant.<br />
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<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-50381926204327745222015-10-01T11:54:00.007-07:002022-02-10T11:18:27.610-08:00The Selfie Generation<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ahhh, the selfie. Grab your phone (or perhaps an actual camera) and turn the lens upon yourself. Hold it in the right spot, at the right angle and capture your best you on... film? Well, you know what I mean. Capture the perfect shot for Instagram, or your new Facebook profile pic or PicTwit (TwitPic?) yourself to your little heart's content. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Since I have lost a little weight and feel a little bit better about myself I have come to appreciate the value of a good selfie. From the fat mom who hid behind the camera through most of my kids' childhoods, it's kinda nice to not hate every photo taken of me. And hey, sometimes the most fun selfie is the one you pull a a friend or family member into with you. Heck, they made a whole stick to attach to your phone just so you could widen the scope of your photo... that and so you could do something about that giant arm in the photo that's reaching up to the camera (oh the calamity of a tank top!) but I digress. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As the mom of two teens I would say that there is a whole generation of "selfie pic" people rising up. For some the selfie has become another art form of expression. The pouty lip, the tongue hanging out, a "gang" sign or two thrown in for good measure, the mirror pics of favored outfits, sometimes silly, sometimes serious, the selfie definitely does NOT fall into a single category of expression. Sometimes fun, sometimes deep, occasionally inappropriate (hello? we do not need to see all that cleavage and your new bikini all over the net!) the selfie has the power to communicate many things: isolating, inclusive, exclusionary and more, the gamete is run. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But today I find myself thinking about some of the dangers and downsides of being a part of a selfie generation, and I don't just mean my teens. Really it's not about the age of the generation taking selfies (and let's be honest, there's a wide gamete of ages there as well) but it's about the downfall of making anything all about self. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I grew up in a generation where people were actually allowed to "agree to disagree." There has always been a wide spectrum of beliefs, attitudes, values and convictions. Sometimes it meant allowing people to be ignorant, even hateful, in another man's opinion even WRONG, but it was all a part of the FREEDOM of thought, speech and belief. But I see that disappearing these days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today if your opinion differed from the prevailing approved politically correct perception you are not just wrong but you are hateful, bigoted, even vilified. I am a middle class, white American conservative pro-life Christian... in some circles, some more growing and popular circles, that makes me a domestic terrorist for heaven's sake. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked up the word bigoted, and it is defined as "<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">having or revealing an obstinate belief in the superiority of one's own opinions and a prejudiced intolerance of the opinions of others." I find this definition interesting. Because it occurs to me, aren't MOST people obstinate in their beliefs? And don't MOST people hold to their beliefs because they believe they are somehow superior? Or right? I mean, why would anyone hold to a belief if they didn't believe in its merit. Even if someone passionately believed you should not hold to tightly to one's personal beliefs, didn't they just do what they said the believed against? Just a thought (and for the record I think a good one.) </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">The biggest problem with this selfie generation mentality is that too many people have begun to buy into the lie that everyone needs to look the same. Everyone needs to believe the same, hold to the same ideals and have the same exact convictions. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">I think we need to stop working so hard to get all the beliefs to line up and instead learn to accept the differences. It's ok that you think your beliefs are the best, it really is. But it's not ok to make someone else a bad person just because they don't agree with you. Disagreeing is ok. It's fascinating to me how so many who have claimed to feel oppressed and bullied by, say, the right wing "extremists" (tongue firmly inserted in cheek here) like myself are now trying to oppress and bully people who hold to conservative Christian values. I'm not saying either attitude is ok, but I am saying don't judge in someone else what you are unwilling to acknowledge in yourself. Like I have said to my children so many times, "If it's not ok for them, then it's not ok for you." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">Another warning about the selfie attitude - not everything is about YOU. Just because I think abortion is wrong doesn't mean I am attacking YOU because YOU had an abortion. Just because I don't want to teach my five-year-old about homosexual sex doesn't mean I hate you (for the record, I didn't want to teach my five-year-old about sex at all, but protecting a child's innocence just keeps getting harder and harder. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">Now I acknowledge that what I am expressing here is MY perception, but I am willing to acknowledge it is not necessarily the same as yours. BUT rather than getting heated and overwrought because you don't see things my way, and you aren't perceiving ME the way I want you to, maybe it's time to turn that "lens" off of self and look out into the world around us. I'm not even talking about having to find common ground, but I AM talking about offering mutual respect, kindness and finding the ability to accept that all the world is not going to agree with me. Or you. And that's ok. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">And it's OK if you think I'm wrong, or you think I am ignorant. It's ok even if you think I am a domestic terrorist, but as long as my opinion is just that, then perhaps we should lighten up on the dogma and hostility. We don't have to be made into enemies because we hold to different ideals. We have that right. We even have the right to be wrong. I have news for you, everybody is. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;">A last little note to my Christian friends, the ones who see my point, the ones who might be a little concerned about what they are reading here, and even the ones who think I have abandoned my principles altogether: We are called to LOVE. I'm not going to get into a giant discussion about what that means or looks like, but I am going to say that we are called to love ALL people. And PEOPLE are not supposed to be our enemies. We do have an enemy, and he is having a FIELD DAY with all the hate and divisiveness that is going on in our world today. Nothing makes him happier than when we smear the reputation of our God with hateful words, hurtful attitudes and unloving demeanor. There is a lot in the world that isn't the way we would like it to be, but God called us to be His vessels, not his clanging bells. He called us to be the light and that WILL take care of darkness. </span></span><br />
<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.4182px;"><br /></span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-52019076391797679972015-09-22T11:02:00.001-07:002015-09-22T11:02:21.207-07:00His SilenceSometimes the Lord is so quiet<br />
I'm unable to decipher a sound<br />
Based on what I can see<br />
I could wonder if He's even around<br />
<br />
I long for the days He spoke clearly<br />
Directing each step I should take<br />
When I felt so clearly connected<br />
In every decision I'd make<br />
<br />
I once thought His voice an anomaly<br />
Not something I even knew could be<br />
But in my heart I then heard a whisper<br />
My God clearly speaking to me<br />
<br />
I was His sheep and He my Shepherd<br />
His Word promised I'd know His voice<br />
And every time I would hear it so clearly<br />
My heart would greatly rejoice<br />
<br />
He whispered such precious Words<br />
<i>Loved, forgiven, redeemed</i><br />
He whispered His tender directions<br />
He'd speak forever or so it seemed<br />
<br />
But then sometimes He'd grow quiet<br />
I'd be uncertain of where I should go<br />
So desperately I would look back<br />
On the things I already know<br />
<br />
Every word of His whispers<br />
Had to be taken back to His Word<br />
Because if they didn't line up<br />
Then I knew they hadn't been heard<br />
<br />
In the early days He spoke often<br />
Directing each step of the way<br />
But the longer we walked together<br />
Sometimes He'd have less to say<br />
<br />
Where He once led step stone by stone<br />
Later it would be a path He's lead me to<br />
He'd say <i>Go that direction</i><br />
Then stand back to see what I'd do<br />
<br />
Would I let the climb deter me?<br />
Would obstacles hold me back?<br />
Would I let my fear or dismay<br />
Push me completely off track?<br />
<br />
Sometimes the climb is exhausting<br />
And darkness the path will obscure<br />
And I'll long for His clear direction<br />
A word to just reassure<br />
<br />
But sometimes the Lord just stays silent<br />
Offering no new words along the way<br />
He just leaves me with the decision<br />
On this path will I or won't I stay?<br />
<br />
If I ponder my feet it overwhelms me<br />
Looking at the path I long to turn back<br />
Trying to peer through the darkness<br />
I'm so aware of the wisdom I lack<br />
<br />
So many lessons in His silence<br />
About my want and my need and my know<br />
But when I'm too focused on such things<br />
I might wonder <i>Where did He go? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
But Truth, it's a fool thing to wonder<br />
About where <i>The</i> omnipresent God might be<br />
Because even in long seasons of silence<br />
He's not once for a moment ever forsaken me<br />
<br />
Obedience is not just a moment<br />
But rather a path we must take<br />
And to expect it to always be simple<br />
Is to make the gravest mistake<br />
<br />
Even more grave is to believe the lie<br />
That obedience always makes sense<br />
For it will often be quite a struggle<br />
And we'll find it a battle intense<br />
<br />
For strength is built with resistance<br />
And it's with exercise that faith will grow<br />
So when I don't know what's up ahead<br />
Remember Who said to me <i>Go</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Though His silence sometimes overwhelming<br />
Not forever will it ever remain<br />
And when again I hear His sweet whisper<br />
It will echo like the sweetest refrain<br />
<br />
For sometimes the still in His silence<br />
Is like a pause in the midst of a song<br />
For when the music resumes<br />
The message is pow'rful and strong<br />
<br />
<i>Loved, Forgiven, Redeemed</i><br />
He has a plan for you up ahead<br />
So retreat not back from His path<br />
Settling for any less in its stead<br />
<br />
No, the road won't be easy<br />
At times it'll seem to quiet to bear<br />
But I promise even in silence<br />
Jesus is always right there<br />
<br />
So press on, pursue, relent not<br />
Listen, focus, expect Him to speak<br />
Continue on despite His silence<br />
For you're on a path that's unique<br />
<br />
When you're found in the midst of His silence<br />
Revisit Who and whatever you know<br />
But never turn back from the path<br />
Of obedience where He said to go<br />
<br />
Little sheep, press on and relent not<br />
Wait with hope for the Shepherd's voice<br />
For He will not remain ever silent<br />
When He speaks then we shall rejoice.<br />
<br />
©Diana DePriest<br />
September 22, 2015<br />
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<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-41407882946101491202015-09-02T11:36:00.001-07:002015-09-02T11:36:50.608-07:00Dear LordI feel so... stretched. There is so much going on, so much change, just a lot of "new" and challenge and we both know I am not a big fan. <br />
<br />
There are things I know you have asked of me (commanded?) that I am having such a miserable time with, but I submit because I know it's not about how I feel, but rather about whether or not I will obey in spite of how I feel. I'll be honest (which is sort of funny to say because You actually know better than I do what I am thinking, feeling and intending, but I digress...) I keep waiting for a reprieve. I know Lord you have asked me to do ________ for the sake of ___________ , but I'm not feeling any better about doing what You've asked, I am actually feeling worse. And I know You have asked me to make it about worshiping You, and and loving You, and loving specific "others" but my heart isn't in it.<br />
<br />
I really don't believe there is any reprieve on the horizon, but I am watching for it anyway.<br />
<br />
You asked me almost a year ago to focus on two things-- living open-handed and to remember that Your grace is sufficient. You asked me THIS right after You directed me to go back to school after a 22 year hiatus. You asked me to go back without any plan, but I knew you were asking me. And now people say, "What are you going back for?" and I can only answer, "I don't know, I'm just doing it because the Lord asked it of me." And let's be real, to a large percentage of people, even in my world, that sounds a little nuts. But when you gave me the addendum of open-handedness and Your grace's sufficiency, I thought you meant regarding school specifically. <br />
<br />
That hasn't turned out to be the case at all. In fact, the whole open-handed thing has had a LOT more to do with life beyond school. And my impression that it meant holding loosely because things would be removed was accurate, though it stretched much further than I could anticipate. But it also meant to keep my hand open for things you wanted to place there even when I didn't want you to (refer to paragraph 2 above.) Sometimes it feels like holding something heavy in my open hand. I'm tired, I don't want to, but the choice isn't to just hold it or put it down, it is to obey or disobey, and the truth is, I know there is only one right answer when I look at it that way.<br />
<br />
School, by the way, isn't as exciting or new as it was when You asked me to go back. So now as I hear you say "stay" and "press on" I feel the tilt of the hill increasing, and yet-- I STILL don't know the why or where of the journey you have called me to. Perhaps that's why Your Word says "the STEPS of the righteous are ordered by the Lord" rather than the journey or the destination. I feel like a soldier instructed on a "need to know" basis, and You have so far determined, I do not need to know.<br />
<br />
I guess that's why I keep thinking back to things you have spoken before. Like, that I am to trust Who you are rather than what you are doing. When all I can think is "I just don't get it," You don't try to make any explanation of yourself at all, you just want to know, "Do I know Who You are?" (And in context remember who I am not.) And "do I believe that You are good?" These are the only questions I really need to concern myself with. And they are questions I really need to have answered in advance.<br />
<br />
(Deep sigh.) I know Who You are. And I know that You are good. <br />
<br />
That's what I have to turn back to when things are hard - not just my things, but much bigger things in the lives of those around me. Loss, sickness, death, loneliness, hardship. You are still God and You are still good even in the midst of them. <br />
<br />
That means I know that being in places I don't want to be, and doing things I don't want to do or at least don't understand, and even going through hard times, and hard things-- if you have asked it of me, it must be ok. You have a purpose. You are God, so you always have purpose. And You are good, so if that's true, there must be some good you will bring out of it. Not that that eases the process, but it offers the glimmer of hope in the darkness. <br />
<br />
I love you Father. You are better to me than I could ever deserve. I know in my heart that this life will always be full of challenges and difficulties because I am not where I belong... and I am not yet who I am meant to be. It's not about skills or opportunities, but it is about your chisel in my life, chipping away the things (the big giant chunks of me) that don't please You, don't bless others. Sometimes it hurts like hell, but it really isn't anything like the hell you rescued me from. <br />
<br />
Help me get my focus on Who and What I know. Help me get it off my circumstances, especially those that displease me, and help me get it back on on pleasing You. Not because it gains me favor, but because I love You-- for Who You are, and because You are good. That's what I know on this "need to know" basis. <br />
<br />
I press on, in Jesus' name.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Me.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-72560280995427801022015-08-20T20:02:00.001-07:002015-08-20T20:02:36.951-07:00Labor and DeliveryI woke up alone early on the morning of February 10th, 1994, and something felt strange; the mattress was damp. I called Neal on the phone immediately. "Honey," I said, "I think my water might have broke." <br />
<br />
Neal rushed home and we headed to the hospital. I felt no pain, no contractions, but our Natural Child Birth teacher had really emphasized the importance of not messing around with leaking amniotic fluid. She'd shared horror stories and all. <br />
<br />
The road was dark; Neal seemed excited. I felt terrified. I remember telling him I didn't think I could do it. All that was on my mind was the birth videos I'd watched. I'm actually pretty confident if you showed them in freshman health class in high schools you could probably cut the teen pregnancy rate by at least half. I just could not imagine that my body had the capacity to push the little baby inside me out. The thought of it terrified me. Neal assured me I could do it, moreover he pretty much guaranteed me that I really had no choice-- so here we were on our due date on the way to the hospital ready to meet our son.<br />
<br />
They almost sent me home that morning. I wasn't in active labor and at first they didn't think I'd actually sprung an amniotic leak. But eventually signs indicated that my water was on the road to breaking, and since I had been on bed rest for several weeks due to high blood pressure they kept me and decided to help the labor process along. Besides, he was due. It was time, his due date had arrived.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow a different kind of due date has arrived. I feel about it a lot like I did the first one. I don't really know how I'm gonna do it. I can't imagine how it's going to be possible to 21 1/2 years later "deliver my son" out into the world. The night before the first due date I broke all the rules of my bed rest and some serious nesting occurred. I cleaned the kitchen, mopped the floor and did the dishes. It helped me feel like I was getting ready, even though I had no idea if he would come for sure the next day.<br />
<br />
Tonight there isn't any "nesting" to do. In fact the last few days I have sat back quietly while my son has pulled all the sticks and twigs that are his from this nest of mine. The "boys' room" has been vacated, and by tomorrow night it will only belong to Ethan. There are a few pieces of memorabilia from Ducks stuff that have migrated to his little sister's room, but most everything else has been boxed and stored or shipped ahead to his dorm room in Virginia. 21 1/2 years ago, just Neal and I home, I sat with my hand on my belly imagining how my life would change when this new little person came home to live. Tonight sitting here, just Neal and I home, I find myself imagining what it will be like when the young man I carried so long ago moves on and leaves, and doesn't live here anymore.<br />
<br />
Labor the first time hurt like hell. Being forced into labor loses the easing in process of the first contraction and then progression. When they induce you the labor comes on hard and fast, and when they did that with me it wasn't very effective. From 6 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon I had a lot of pain, tried a lot of meds and made very little progress. Then a lovely nurse came along and suggested we break all the rules I had learned, and offered me an epidural even though I was only at 2 cm. I heart epidurals, and when the pain subsided I was tired and Neal was hungry, so he left me alone and I took a long nap. It was a phone call to my room from my friend 2 hours later that woke me up.<br />
<br />
The doctor came in to check my progress while I chatted with my friend. While completely unconscious I had managed to progress beautifully, and in two hours with no pain I had gone from 2 cm to 8 1/2. My friend congratulated me on the news and then I hung up to throw up. And because there were no such things as cellphones in 1994, I just sat alone excited and waited for Neal to come back. It was getting close, the baby was coming soon.<br />
<br />
There's no medication for the pain I'm feeling this time. There's no taking a nap and waking up feeling better about this delivery. The last few weeks and months whenever I've woken up I have immediately felt the sadness and anxiety of the impending departure of my boy. It's very bittersweet. My heart aches. I am really going to miss my son. But, just like Neal told me on the drive to the hospital, this delivery is unavoidable, it has to come. It's still hard. As much as I was excited for his arrival, I am just as sad to see him leave.<br />
<br />
At the hospital it was just a little while longer before the doctor told me it was time to push. Neal was back and fed. Things were chaotic at the hospital. My body was doing strange things, I was shaking and I didn't have enough feeling in all the places I needed to. Nurses were growing frustrated by family members who kept sneaking down the hall listening for our baby's first cry. And when it came time to push not all was as it should be and there was a lot of flipping and rolling trying to get the baby in the right position to be born. It took me an hour and a half to push him out.<br />
<br />
This time as I prepare to "push him out" everything is running smoothly, in fact it's required no actual labor on my part at all. And unlike the infant who seemed to hesitant to come into this world 21 1/2 years ago, the man he has become hardly seems able to contain his excitement about now moving on. Pride and sadness are a strange mix of emotions, and they greatly contrast the mix of pride and joy I felt the night we first met. <br />
<br />
"It's a boy!" Neal confirmed what I'd known in my heart from the moment I found out I was carrying the little life inside. Baby Jacob was so quiet it frightened me. I demanded to know why he wasn't crying, panic rising up in my heart, it started to infect Neal as well. "Relax," the doctor told us, "he's completely pink. He's fine." And then I think the doctor pinched him just to allay my fears. He let out a beautiful cry. In hindsight I now realize that his subtle easygoing entrance was just foreshadowing on the laid back and unobtrusive man he has become. He has always been a gentleman. <br />
<br />
Within minutes of Jacob's birth, my delivery room was filled with all our family and closest friends, more than 20 people came into the room, and they literally lifted him out of my arms and passed him around. Grandparents, uncles, cousins, friends-- he passed through them all. I found myself feeling a little left out as he said all his tiny little helloes. I've felt a lot like that this week as well, as he's been gone an awful lot to make his farewell stops and say all his big goodbyes.<br />
<br />
I finally asked if I could have my baby back, and Neal got him and brought him to me. I pulled back his little blanket and took in the wonder of this tiny little person who now firmly held my heart. It was only a matter of minutes before the nurse came in and told me she had to take him away. I wistfully watched, a little sad, but knowing he'd be back before too long.<br />
<br />
Less than 24 hours from now Jacob will be on a flight to Phoenix, his first of two stops before he finally arrives in Virginia early Saturday morning. Having let him be "passed around" the past few days since his Guatemala return Sunday last, I am awaiting the short bit of time I can hold on to him before that big airplane whisks him away. Just like those brief moments felt too few in the delivery room, tomorrow's brief time together doesn't feel like long enough to say goodbye. And even though I know it's right on time on his and that his "due date" is here, it still kinda feels too soon.<br />
<br />
Let me clarify that despite the possibly dark and somewhat melancholy tone that may be in this blog post, underneath the hard stuff, I <i><u><b>am</b></u></i> excited for my son. I am proud of the man he has become. And I do look forward to hearing about the things that God is going to do in His life, and the things God will use him to do. But, it's still hard. Chalk this up to another of life's experiences that you cannot truly anticipate your response to until you get there. I thought that I would be the mom who would have no trouble letting go. I was wrong. <br />
<br />
21 1/2 years ago I was enamored with this tiny little person I did not know. He rode on my tailbone so long while I pushed that he came in as a literal pain in my butt. But the pain was worth it, even though it stayed with me for the next six months. The labor of 11 1/2 hours was hard on my body, but in the end it was all worth it. <br />
<br />
I had no idea back then that the end of that first delivery was actually the beginning of a different kind of labor, one in our case that would last 21 years, six months and 11 days. Over the course of those years there have been lots of times that Jacob has been a figurative pain in my butt, but I'm pretty sure that this time the feeling was pretty mutual. This long labor was full of push and pull, pain and progress. At the end of the first labor I became a mom and had a hand to hold. At the end of this second labor, I'm still a mom, but I'm a mom who instead of holding on is finally letting go. <br />
<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-43601851567920678022015-08-14T11:00:00.000-07:002015-08-14T11:00:12.888-07:00Kudos to all the momsKudos to all the moms out there who feel like they've got a great handle on this role in life.<br />
<br />
I am not one of you. <br />
<br />
Just this week I lost my cool with one of my kids in a big way... big way... righteous anger ignition lighting a fire of less than righteous expression of it. Sigh... it is a lifelong struggle. Well, it's a mom-lifelong struggle. I don't think I ever knew how much of a temper I had until I had kids. Now I am constantly aware of the shortness of my fuse. This week the fuse was lit, and it wasn't pretty. <br />
<br />
Also along the way this week I find myself swimming through the puddle of mess that I randomly become as I prepare to send another of my children off into the world "on his own..." It's a good thing, it's the right thing, it's even a <i>necessary</i> thing, it's <i>even <u><b>time</b></u></i> for it to happen, but it 21 years I still never managed to prepare myself for it. So I dwell far more on the lack and mistakes of the 21 years and waver between despair of regret, and wanting to pull the trigger and get it over with quickly. Sometimes in between I just try to find a numb place of denial, which is a little more comfortable.<br />
<br />
Kudos to the moms who feel <i>fulfilled</i> in their role as a mother. <br />
<br />
I am not one of you.<br />
<br />
Most of the time being a mom makes me feel frustrated and inept. I mean, I have had moments of feeling fulfilled as a mother. I think back to seasons filled with crazy sleepless nights (mind you, I had two babies in the same calendar year) where I managed to get all three children to bed and asleep all for the same few hours and I felt quite accomplished. But in all honesty, the longer I am a mother, the more I feel like I don't have a clue, and I am not doing it right and I'm aware of just how much I have managed to screw up. I waver between wishing that the "success" of motherhood were measurable, and being really, <i>really, <b><u>really</u></b></i> glad that it's not. Sometimes in between I just try to find the numb place of denial, which is a little more comfortable.<br />
<br />
Kudos to the moms who feel like they have a solid plan that works when it comes to things like direction and discipline for their kids.<br />
<br />
I am not one of you.<br />
<br />
I think God has a little bit of a sick sense of humor. There, I said it, I do. He gave me the first child who was sweet-natured, passive and compliant... and tricked me into thinking that had something to do with my parenting. Then the limit ran out on that infant/ toddler nature in the first kid (though it sort of swayed in and out and still does to this day), but to make sure I knew how little it had to do with me, seven years later he gave me this complicated, fiercely independent, challenging child... and then less than ten months later He gave me another one, and that one had a <i><u>really</u></i> bad attitude to boot. <br />
<br />
It didn't take me long to figure out that three very different kids required three very different kinds of parenting all from this same mom. I not only lacked one solid plan, I lacked three very needed plans. And I figured out, for me at least, this whole parenting thing was one long science experiment of trial and error... and error... and error. It is really quite a trial. I waver between commitment to figuring it out and wanting to throw my hands up in hopelessness. Sometimes in between I just try to find the numb place of denial, which is a little more comfortable.<br />
<br />
Kudos to all the cuddly, comforting, patient and nurturing moms. <br />
<br />
I am not one of you. <br />
<br />
Sometimes my kids are talking, talking and talking, and I just can't even force myself to focus, and I keep trying in my head to say, "LISTEN!!" Sometimes I do, sometimes I fake it well enough to get by, and sometimes they look back it me and exasperation and ask, "Are you even listening to me???" And I have to shake my head "no." On a good day I ask them to try to tell me the story again, on not so good days I just shrug, apologize and slip away.<br />
<br />
Sometimes my kids struggle with big challenges, especially middle school bullsh... ivek... (just really got hit lately with how much I need to work on my language... courtesy of one of my kids... anyway...) bulshivek problems, and I just want to scream, "SUCK IT UP!! GET OVER IT!!!!" And sometimes I don't just want to, I actually do. <br />
<br />
Sometimes one of my kids wants to (yes, still) crawl in my lap, or lay on my chest, or rub on my arm, and I just want to be left alone. If I had a dollar in 21 years for every time I told one of them "GET OFF ME!" I could probably take a pretty nice cruise with the hubby. But I waver between (yes, still) wanting to hide in the bathroom (or now that they're older, my car) and ignore them and knowing these days are fleeting and wanting to get over my no touchy-feely self and soak in every fleeting moment. Sometimes in between I just try to find the not numb enough place of denial, which is a little more comfortable.<br />
<br />
Kudos to the moms who love their children with all their hearts and more than their own lives.<br />
<br />
.........<br />
<br />
..............<br />
<br />
.....................<br />
<br />
I <i><u>AM</u></i> one of you. <br />
<br />
Even though I don't always love this role - mom - the one people like to call "the toughest job you'll ever love," I love my children more than life itself. I don't always love the painful, difficult, humbling, challenging, heartbreaking <i style="font-weight: bold;">job </i>of being their one and only mom though. It's hard, at times hurtful, often stressful. It's not a job I have found to get easier or more manageable, if anything I find it gets harder and harder as they grow up and get older. It's not a job that you can be trained for (have yet to find a single book that taught me everything I needed to know to love and rear my three very different kids). It's not a job where success or failure is easily measured. I don't even know at what point you get to decide the job is "complete" enough to be "graded." Even as my 21-year-old prepares to move out and far away, I still feel the pain of responsibility, and accountability... did I prepare him? Will he succeed? Does he know I love him? Believe in him? But even when he gets through college, even if he gets through well, when he becomes a husband and father, I know I will look at his strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures and tie them back to the job I did as his mom. So even though the role of mom changes, it never really ends. There's no report card to look forward to.<br />
<br />
The longer I have this job, in all its increase of challenge and difficulty, the more I realize how much less it had to do with what I could teach and impart to my children, and it's so much more about the work God is doing--- in my kids, and even more, in <b><i><u>me</u></i></b>. It's messy work. <br />
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The longer I do this job, the less opinionated I become about the "right vs. wrong way" of raising my children. More importantly I am much less opinionated about how other people raise their children. I finally recognize that not one of us can understand the specific process, challenge and struggle of being who you are, raising the kids you are, parenting the way you are. I really think that the whole "train up a child in the way he should go," is less about finding the ONE RIGHT WAY, and more about trying to just keep, as best you can, trying to just keep them directed the right general direction. Realizing that in the midst of my own fumbly, failure-filled, uphill trek as a mom, God has a handle on all the roads that are there... mine, my hubby's, and the three <b><i>different</i></b> paths for each of my kids.<br />
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At the end of the day, I am just really grateful that I was never called to be the perfect parent, but that Christ has promised to work in my many, <i>many, <b><u>many</u></b></i><b><i> </i></b>imperfections. Beautifully, not just for my own good, but for the good of those three precious kids he entrusted to me, knowing full well my innumerable shortcomings.<br />
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Being a mom makes me tired-- physically, emotionally and spiritually <b><i><u>tired</u></i></b>. It also makes me desperately needy, and that is a good thing. That is a God thing.<br />
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Kudos to all the moms like me, who despite all the struggle, never give up-- even when they really want to. Kudos to the moms who love their kids in their own failing, fumbling, falling short kind of way, who just do their best because their best is all they can do-- even on the days when their best doesn't seem like much at all. Kudos to you. Kudos to us. Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-39259021447074091332015-08-03T11:35:00.003-07:002015-08-03T11:35:28.811-07:00Being Jacob's MomI was twenty-two years old when I truly decided I was ready to be a mom. That's the point in my life that I was married and settled, and I really chose to make an effort to get pregnant, have a baby and become a mom. Now, twenty-three years later, I don't actually remember my process or my reasons specifically, but I know I had them.<br />
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I was an only child who wasn't really around little kids much. A couple of my girlfriends had started their families and had a couple babies under their belts, but my involvement extended to shower gifts, well wishes and an occasional "hold and coo" session. I had babysat a little as a teenager, but really - I was clueless.<br />
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I guess becoming a mom was part of the "natural next step." I was married, now you had babies - and babies, including my friends babies were cute. They were soft and cuddly to hold, and when they dozed and cooed they were absolutely precious.<br />
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For me there was fertility treatment involved in my pregnancy efforts, so I know I was fully committed to the idea. The idea. <br />
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The idea.<br />
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That was the thing about becoming a mom, it started out as an idea. I imagined how in doing things completely different from my own mom my relationship with my own children would be better... perfect, even. Now mind you it wasn't like my mom had done a bad job, I mean, after all, she had raised me. But still, I knew how differently I would do... everything. And I was so confident about how my kids would react, respond. I remember a lot "I'll never's" and "My kids won't ever's..." (Giggle) Because the thing about being a mom, is when it's theoretical, and you're parenting theoretical kids, well... everything goes perfectly.<br />
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It took more than a year of trying after a bad miscarriage to find out I was finally pregnant. In fact the heartbreaking longing for motherhood had bruised my heart pretty badly between my miscarriage and seemingly fruitless fertility treatments. A year is a really long time when you are surrounded by girlfriends who say "I think we might like to try (BOOM pregnant) have another baby...." Baby showers were, once upon a time, THE most painful event to weather through.<br />
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Then one night in June 1993 I was home by myself, well, just me and the dog. I had my bible out and worship music blaring and I poured my heart out like Hannah in the Bible before the Lord. I prayed for a child, and then I prayed for God's will. And I told the Lord if it was NOT His will for me to be a mom, then I didn't want to be one. And I had peace. And I meant my prayer. And then I remembered there was one last pregnancy test under the sink in my bathroom. And as an act of faith, I decided I would just get rid of it.... but I wouldn't waste it. So, I peed on the stick.<br />
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I took the stick back out into the living room and I went back to the Word and worship. After a while I glanced over at the stick, and much to my surprise where there had always been a (-) there was a (+). I looked at the stick, I looked up to heaven. I looked at the stick. I looked at the dog, resting at my feet. I looked up to heaven. I picked up the stick in disbelief. I looked up to heaven. Then I jumped up, and down, and up and down and up again. And I told the dog I was pregnant. He jumped up and down with me.<br />
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Ironically (if you know my oldest) my husband Neal was at a Stanley Cup Hockey game that night. These were the days before cell phones. So as hard as I tried to keep this exciting news between me and the dog, I called my mom and three or four of my closest girlfriends and shared the news. My mom came over, she stopped and picked up five more pregnancy tests on her way. When she got there, I took three more. All the results were the same.<br />
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But it was as I sat out on the porch in the dark waiting for my mom to get there that as I was quietly thanking and praising God that something stirred in my spirit and I knew I was carrying a son. That's a point of interest really because a couple years before during a deep emotional healing process as I first came to Christ over an abortion in my teens, the Lord had promised me very clearly that I would have a daughter. But I knew, practically from the moment I found out he was coming, that Jacob was a boy.<br />
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I loved being pregnant. Even in utero he was this mellow, calm quiet kid. He never kicked me, he would stretch and roll, and get the hiccups, but he was unobtrusive. Once he tapped to a beat while his dad was practicing on a drum pad, but most of the time he was just really chill. The same was true when he came into the world. He took his time (literally) getting out, and he came in quietly. <br />
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Everyone has seen enough TV shows and movies to know babies are supposed to cry when they are born, but Jacob didn't. I actually panicked, I asked why he wasn't crying and my fear lit fear in Neal. "Cry, cry, cry," I said. The doctor told me "Relax, he's completely pink!" And then I think maybe he pinched him just to calm my fears. That loud cry he let out was the sweetest sound. He was a beautiful baby, perfect. And in all honesty, he kinda stayed that way for a long time. Careful, obedient, cautious, sweet - these words would describe the baby who slept about 16 hours a day (that may explain how big he grew.)<br />
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I remember when Jake was 11 months old and he cruised over to me from kitchen chair to kitchen chair and put his hand on my cheek and tapped it lightly, he said his first word, "Mama." The boy never crawled. We worried a little, Neal and I would sit him at one end of the hall and we would sit at the other and try to coax him to come to us. He just laughed at us and rolled over on his side. He didn't care much about being mobile, then one day when he was not quite a year old we had a picnic in the house. I walked over and bent down and let him have a sip of my Foster's Freeze chocolate shake. Then I turned and walked across the room and sat down. Out of nowhere the boy stood straight up and walked over to me for more.<br />
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As a toddler he was smart, funny, vivacious-- he used to like to perform little skits, and would pop out of an empty cupboard in an entertainment center and perform "The Jacob Show!!!" He loved to watch Disney - Mickey Mouse's "The Prince and the Pauper" over and over and over and over again... "More Mee Mow, Mommy, more Mee Mow." He spoke well, looked and acted older than he was and was never stubborn about anything until potty training and giving up his pacifier (and potty training was harder than the pacifier.) But once he decided he was ready he did it in a week, never even had a single accident.<br />
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Jacob's first tantrum wasn't until he was four. I can still play the video of it in my head. I remember as I watched him kick and scream in the middle of the aisle at Payless Show Source wondering what alien life force had taken over my kid. It was the beginning of a pattern, my typically easy kid started to give me trouble about every four years - at 8 (when the two new siblings had shown up in the same year; 12 (when puberty kicked in): 16 (because I think that's in the teenager handbook); and 20 (because being a grown adult and living under your mom's roof, especially this mom's roof-- is hard.)<br />
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It's funny, I started this blog wanting to talk about what it's like to be a mom, and somehow it became all about the kid. And really, that is what you don't know when you're twenty-two years old and you decide you want to have a baby. You don't think, or at least I didn't think, much past what the cute and cuddly part is like. I didn't even actually have a fully accurate picture of that (it wasn't until the siblings came along that I understood what having an uncooperative baby was like-- Jacob really suckered me in thinking I had a handle on things those first few years.)<br />
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I'm gonna be honest, I am not the "give the kid the last cookie" mom. In fact, I know in a lot of ways I have been a pretty selfish parent at times. I know I have been tough, strict, and hard. That especially manifests itself in the first child - the practice kid, like Jake. It requires too many years of experience to really know and accept you don't know what you're doing as a parent, but really, neither does anyone else. Being a perfectionist didn't help. In hindsight there are a lot of things I would have tried to make bother me less (the phrase "don't <strike>cry</strike> scream over spilled milk" comes to mind.) But you can't go back.<br />
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The Bible gives some rather vague instruction on parenting, "train up a child in the way he should go..." where I would like an instruction manual to proceed, God wants my dependence to follow. The Bible also talks about "iron sharpening iron," and you never really understand that metaphor the same way until you are a parent. I am the chisel, sometimes painfully pounding on the block that is my kid. I am so focused on what I can participate in forming on the block, and all along God is working on reshaping the chisel - it's a horrible irony, really. <br />
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I never really remembered until I started writing this blog that I had poured out a "Hannah Prayer" for my first born son. In Hannah's day, she kept her Samuel only long enough to wean him before she delivered him to the temple. It's hard to imagine giving away a toddler. What I didn't know 22 years ago when I prayed that prayer was that it's not a whole lot easier to deliver a "child" to the temple when he's 21 either. Oh, it's necessary, mind you, but it's not easy. <br />
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I will always be Jacob's mom, perhaps to his dismay at times, but a big huge part of my job (which has been dwindling for years) is actually coming to an end as we prepare to send him off... to the temple... to "bible college"... to Ignite in just over two weeks. (yeah, I am totally swallowing back tears right now, and if you know me, you know how much that pisses me off!) Some might think we're late - he's 21, why is he still here? Some days I have honestly asked that question myself, but I can tell you wholeheartedly, it has NOT been too long. In fact in many ways it just doesn't feel long enough. <br />
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My son drives me crazy sometimes (part of the practice kid syndrome, partly because we are too much alike and partly because we are way too different-- yes it can be both.) Right now, as I look at him, as he prepares to leave, I am far more aware of the hard things, my failures, our challenges in relationship-- it was good to reminisce about happier days in this post. But I love my son, and more importantly (even though he may not know it) I really like him. I respect him. I'm proud of the person he has become. He's still smart, funny and vivacious. He's also kind, compassionate, caring, he's found passion, he loves God, he loves others. <br />
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I hope that in the midst of my awareness of the ways I have blown it, failed him as his mom, made mistakes as a parent, that part of my influence has also helped him become the good person that he is-- the godly person that he is. <br />
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Being a mom turns out to be the hardest thing I will ever do in my life. Maybe not all moms feel that way, but that has been my experience. Stretch marks, sleepless nights, toddler temper tantrums, homework, carpools, puberty, teen years, heartbreaks, disappointments, failures-- yours and theirs, all hard-- so, so hard. But none of it compares to this, to letting go. <br />
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I thought 11 1/2 hours of labor and an hour of pushing him into the world was hard, but it does not compare to the culmination of the 21 1/2 years of labor that followed pushing him out on his own. There's no epidural for this part. <br />
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I've failed a lot as a mom... a LOT a lot (I have two more, let's be real, I am STILL failing a LOT)... But my God, I love my kids-- if you're a mom, you'll understand when I say, "more than they will ever know." But this is it. It's time to leave the nest, soar or fall, fail or fly, it's time to stretch those wings and go. Part of my heart is leaving, and going out into the world in a way I never understood at 22 years old. I didn't know. And I have spent a while now trying to stay in denial, but it's here, no more clipping the wings. <br />
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Gotta let go.<br />
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Gotta let him fly.<br />
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Nobody told me.<br />
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But it's time. <br />
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I hope he soars.<br />
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-63964288311323277182015-07-29T02:07:00.003-07:002015-07-29T02:07:53.016-07:00A very dark placeThere are certain things in life that are very difficult, dare I say impossible, to comprehend unless you have experienced them for yourself. There are those things I have not experienced that I can still say that about with confidence, and there are those things I can say that about with certainty because of my experience. I would only dare to speak though, to those things I have experienced.<br />
I'm writing this blog laying in bed, in the middle of the night on my cell phone because I am too restless to sleep. It's been a long, difficult and challenging day, even though from the outside looking in that might not seem at all obvious. When I woke up this morning I could almost SEE the cloud of depression as it blew in from origins unknown. It's as though it was waiting for me to wake.<br />
I would venture to say it came in with a dessert wind as these last few weeks have felt very much like a spiritual desert-- dry, difficult-- the Lord has seemed mostly silent, despite my persistent efforts to be faithfully in the Word and prayer every morning. It's like I've lost my spiritual signal in the desert, and no communication is coming through.<br />
Both the desert and depression are difficult, together they can be completely overwhelming, but if you've never experienced them, apart or together, they can be almost impossible to comprehend.<br />
My worst experience with the depression and desert pairing happened about five years ago, and to a certain degree they lasted for nearly three years. It was probably the most gut wrenching experience of my life, and it was primarily misunderstood or even completely unnoticed by the people around me. That's the thing about deserts and depression, they can be well masked-- smiling on the outside while falling apart on the inside, functioning in life while feeling like your spirit might die.<br />
I remember a lot of nights during that two year stretch, slipping away to be alone and just trying so hard to pour my heart out before God, begging Him even at times to just take me home into his presence, begging not to wake up the next day. But the sun kept rising, and I kept having to get up with it, to be the wife, the mom, the daughter, the employee... I functioned in my life because I had to. For me I was never suicidal, but I could picture myself cutting myself to release the strain. I never did it, but I could see it in my mind's eye.<br />
I did hurt myself with food, however. I'm not a drinker or a drug user, but I can absolutely understand the compulsion, and I ate with the same fervent compulsion as the alcoholic drinks or the drug addict uses. But nobody ever calls out the fat girl for gaining back weight.<br />
It's really hard to reach out and talk to other people about deserts and depression, because if they don't understand it, their well-intentioned advice usually only makes matters worse. "You shouldn't feel that way," they'll say, or "you just need to think positive," they'll admonish. And suddenly you start to wonder if the desert and depression is really your own fault. Even people who have had the desert or depression experience can be limited in how helpful they can be because there is no simple solution-- and the temptation to assume what helped them will automatically be successful for others can be problematic. This scenario makes me think of Job and his overly confident friends.<br />
Depression and desert seasons are like dirty little secrets in the church. Christians aren't "supposed" to have these kinds of struggles. The joy of the Lord is supposed to be or strength, and it's impossible to fathom the existence of a desert or depression in its presence... and yet.<br />
I'm not writing this blog because I feel like I have answers, I guess rather my intention is to just be real and say, "I love Jesus with all my heart, and yet sometimes I find myself in a very painful dark place." Battling depression or feeling distant from God does not negate my love for Him, nor does it even diminish my faith. I guess really in some ways it proves my faith when I'm able to hold on, if only by a strand, even in the midst of being completely overwhelmed.<br />
I do feel so unsettled, and like I'm in a battle against the dark cloud that wants to consume me. It's not to the degree it was five years ago, but it's enough that I remember the pain from before. So I try to push back, first and foremost with prayer-- my own as well as the prayers of faithful friends. That may be the biggest difference between this time and five years ago-- then I felt far more alone. The cloud before succeeded in isolating me, even though it's trying this time I have learned to recognize the danger of withdrawal. So I reach out, I talk about it, I try to stay as open and honest as I can, though carefully so. Even people who know me and love me, maybe even BECAUSE they know me and love me, can be tempted to say things like "don't feel that way." Or they might try to assign fault to my temperament instead of being able to understand that this is really as much an outward battle as an inward one.<br />
The cloud is thick, it tries to rush in and cover me, isolating, but also it makes me very raw, that makes reaching out to others harder because on top of being challenged and tired it makes me highly sensitive and prone to hurt. That's just a hard place to be.<br />
I guess my hope is for a fresh wind, a refreshing wind from the Holy Spirit, to blow coolly in and push back the cloud of depression and whisper away the dry desert season. It's really the only answer that brings hope... not that the depression and desert won't happen, but that they can be battled back, not even so much by me, but for me by the living, loving God, who even when He seems distant and silent is still there, still for me, still letting nothing separate me from The reality of His love, even when I am lost to the sense if it.<br />
I know this blog will probably be lost on most people, but if it's read by just one person who needs to hear it, then the self-exposure is worth it. Just know, it's not just you, you are NOT the only one... Hang on to whatever strands you can fit as long as you can... You may not see it now, but God is still there, still working, and He will break through and draw you out of the cloud. Don't give up. God is still good.<br />
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Apologies for what I am certain is innumerable typos and grammatical errors, typing on my phone is convenient, not necessarily conducive to great writing. I hope the message got through here anyway.<br />
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Love,<br />
DianaDianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-38843829910349157592015-06-29T11:37:00.000-07:002015-06-29T11:37:05.355-07:00RainbowsI went for one of my regular walks this morning, and a few streets down in my neighborhood I passed the home of a neighbor I never took much notice to before and I really know nothing about. Then today I noticed something in their yard that was never there before, a giant rainbow colored flag. At the of their walk to their driveway hung a banner with all the rainbow colors that hung so far down it almost resembled a door. <div>
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There was a check in my spirit, a moment of annoyance mixed with sadness, much like the sense I've had on Facebook the last few days as I've looked at all the "rainbow-ized" profile pictures of many of my Facebook friends and acquaintances. And then it occurred to me, I still don't know anything about this neighbor with the rainbow flag. I could be tempted to think I do, but the truth is I do not. </div>
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There is a list of obvious possibilities-- it could be the home of a homosexual, or a homosexual couple who is excited about the court decision that they see as a victory, a blessing even. Or it could be the proverbial "screw you" from someone of the same persuasion. It could be someone who is not gay themselves but is simply celebrating in solidarity, or someone who wants to piss off a neighbor they have perhaps debated on the issue. I don't know, I can't know, and because I have no intention of walking up and knocking on the door to ask, I won't know. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter because they are still my neighbor. </div>
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I have another house in my neighborhood that I know is the home of a lesbian couple raising a teenage son. I've only had one actual interaction with them in the many, many years that they've lived five houses down my block, and it was in the midst of a neighborhood crisis many years ago that I no longer recall the details to. We used to wave as they drove past my house to theirs, but then a few years back we brought a "Say yes to Proposition 8" sign home from our old church and put it in our yard. I noticed within the week they placed a "Say no," sign in their own yard. And in all honesty, I was angry at the time, and I'm not sure who stopped first, but the waving stopped and angry scowls came from the front seat of their car instead. Looking back later, I just regretted putting up my sign in the first place, all it accomplished was making an enemy out of my neighbor. </div>
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As I walked past their house this morning, I looked to see if there was any outward sign of celebration, any rainbows to be seen, and I noted that there was none. But I honestly don't know why. Just as I can presume they were unhappy when Prop 8 passed, they were probably happy with the Supreme Court decision, but I cannot be sure by just walking past their door. And can I tell you a secret? I get it. I <i>get</i> why they would be happy. I <i>get</i> why they would be celebrating. I get that in their minds this is a likely HUGE victory, and a very good thing. And I can't even be angry with them for it. Why should they feel any other way? </div>
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OK, now everybody stop for a second and take a deep breath because I realize I may have pissed off a lot of my readers by now-- no matter where they stand on the issue. But right here, just now, I am positive that my most passionate Christian friends on the issue are probably ticked and completely questioning me, my sanity and most of all my Christianity. Can I tell you something? I get that too. There is a person who is not my personal friend, who I see through mutual friends on Facebook who turned her profile pic into rainbow colors, and from a distance I saw her make a deeper commitment to God this weekend, and the two things do not gel together in my mind. And it stirs doubts and concerns. But THIS is that place where the Bible tells me not to judge (condemn) another Christian. Standing over here gathering clues from the distance, I am no expert on her heart. </div>
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What a mess it is. The division is what I find so sad. In the church, outside of the church, from the church-- so many mixed messages. We have the adamant and angry who see the celebration of sin and it enrages them... I get it. You have those who want to debate scripture and rewrite what it says in the name of tolerance and peace, and although I don't agree with it, I can understand. And then you have all the people <i>outside</i> the church and the response is just as varied-- we Christians seem to have no better handle on the situation than anyone else. I get why they think so poorly of us all. </div>
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I do know this though, it is unrealistic for us as Christians to expect an unbelieving world to live according to a biblical standard. They can't even understand it, much less apply it. Yes, yes, I know (even if they try to rewrite history and deny it) AMERICA WAS BUILT ON JUDEO-CHRISTIAN VALUES!!! It doesn't matter. That's not longer the case. But this I do know, it is our mistake to make those who stand against our beliefs the enemy. People aren't the enemy, and to hate them for believing differently than we do completely undermines what we as Christians claim to believe. Like it or not, as hard as it may be, "Love your neighbor as yourself" is the #2 command. There's no out (excuse the pun) on the gay marriage issue, whether it's the celebrating gay or the sympathetic brother in Christ, we're called to love. </div>
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Now relax, I'm not saying you have to abandon your principles or let go of your beliefs, you just can't let that aspect of religion supersede the importance of relationship. I am not saying homosexuality isn't a sin, but ask yourself, are you as angry about the unmarried couple with two kids living down your block... attending your church... serving there even? Because if you're not, then that little issue of hypocrisy we all have to watch for is creeping in. Yeah, I get that suddenly the nation has legalized and authorized this sin you take issue with, but don't forget, God takes issue with all sin. That's why we are Christians in the first place, we at some point at least recognized we were sinners in need of a Savior-- and we still <i>are</i>. But sometimes we forget that after we've been doing the faith walk long enough to impress ourselves. </div>
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There is a lot of debate, discord, anger and outrage stirring about. It is coming from all sides, but in all honesty, the "side" that "won" seems pretty happy and content at this point, and the ugly seems to be pouring pretty powerfully out of the conservative Christian camp. That's not a good thing. I see lots of angry, hostile conversation, with hateful words spewed-- words of fear, words of judgment, words of attack. Then suddenly when we realize we've perhaps crossed the line we take a step back and try to settle a little and declare, "well, I love the sinner, I hate the sin." But hear my warning, when the sin is the identity of the person, they cannot separate your feelings for what they do from who they are. They are neither feeling nor receiving our love. Instead of pointing our finger at the sin and declaring our disdain, we as Christians have to figure out a way to look past the sin and love the sinner first. It is the hardest thing to do, but it is what Christ did, and what He wants to do through us. </div>
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As I walked past my neighbor's flag today, I realized part of my difficulty is that it's the rainbow that is the symbol that has been chosen to declare the celebration. "Gay PRIDE," they say. And it occurred to me, the rainbow belongs to God-- He is the creator of it, and He invented it for a very specific purpose, and it wasn't about any kind of pride, but rather it's about submission, submission to One Greater than self. It is first and foremost about a promise that God made to His people. It's meant to be a reminder of our all-powerful God's love and His covenant with us. And I suddenly felt the encouragement in my spirit that when I see a rainbow of any kind, that should be my focus-- God's faithfulness, His goodness, His supreme power. </div>
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I don't have to be afraid of things going on in the world around me; I don't have to be worried about what the world "is coming to," because I know that God is still sovereign, and He is still in control. Part of His promise is to work all things... ALL things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. Nothing changes that, and nothing separates God's people from His love. </div>
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Sometimes when things are difficult or challenging and I don't know what to do in a hard circumstance, I always go back to the last thing I was absolutely certain God spoke to me. In this big picture challenge, let me encourage the brethren that one thing we know we can go back to that God said is "Love." Love Him and love others. And I would encourage you when you find yourself backed up against the wall of outrage or frustration, remember Who you represent, and remember what He would do. Think of the gentle Christ sitting along side the woman at the well. He didn't deny her sin, but He loved her more and that was what drew her to Him. That was the pathway He built into her life. As Christians I encourage us all today, have our hearts and hands ready to reach out to the world, it needs Hope, and we're the ones who know Him. </div>
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-4698330913895475502015-06-12T11:17:00.004-07:002015-06-12T11:40:49.073-07:00Earthquake!!I am a born and bred, tried and true California girl, and I love a good earthquake. Now mind you I am not talking about an 8 point anything, nor have I ever experienced much more destruction than a trinket falling off a shelf or a framed photo cascading down the wall, so let's be clear, my love is relative. I like I nice 5.2 or so that's close enough to feel, maybe give me a few giggles and brings the panicked craze out on my Facebook feed with the great debate between the fellow earthquake lovers like myself and my less adventurous friends who prefer the earth not move... at least not in the literal sense.<br />
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I like to stand on the "I'll take an earthquake any day" argument over the folks who I know who live in hurricane or tornado country who think I am a little cray cray for not only living in California, but actually liking an earthquake here and there, and I definitely get bummed when we have one and I somehow manage to miss it (perhaps I should move to the La Habra area.) I like the quakes and I like their surrounding "shocks" both after and fore. Bring me a literal foundation shaker and I am a happy girl.<br />
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However, I find myself feeling the rattle and shake of a figurative foreshock, and I am having a much harder time with it. It feels like the foundation of our little family is up for some serious movement, and I am a little taken aback by how much harder it is for me than I anticipated.<br />
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I remember the first literal earthquake we had with the little kids. I was sitting in my living room under the front window-- a place I tend to be a lot when the earth starts to move. The glass always rattles first, and because we live right near the train tracks it takes me a few seconds to discern whether the train is just passing by or if the whole earth is moving. This particular quake came in the middle of the day, and the kids were each playing separately in their rooms. It was an instant a-ha moment as I could tell it was no train and I realized neither of my littles had ever experienced a quake-- and this was a good one, and by "good" I mean a real rocker.<br />
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So, having seen a lot of earthquake damage photos in my day, I am not a big subscriber to the "stand in the doorway" mantra I was raised with. I mean, how many door ways have you seen remain standing in the rubble? So on this particular day I jumped up and ran into the hallway screaming, "Don't panic, come out to me now!" And two little faces with giant eyes came running out with their big brother the fellow quake lover following right behind. I grabbed the younger kids hands (I'd say they were somewhere around 4 at the time) and we ran out into the street (you know, out where all the electrical wires are.) As Jacob and I laughed and giggled out in the middle of the street, Ethan got caught up in the "fun" of it, and I hugged and comforted Tori who looked a little more concerned. Then I had to explain to them what an earthquake was, and warn them about aftershocks as they had finally been fully initiated into their California residency (it had been a quiet four years.)<br />
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Those hurricane and tornado folk always declare they are better equipped with the warnings that come with their storms in their necks of the woods. My mindset has always been that warnings are overrated, the anxiety of anticipation was a bigger negative to me than the positive opportunity to plan and prepare. I always said IF (or when) THE big quake comes that might break California off into the ocean (I mean, how bad could more beach front property be?), if it comes, I would rather just ride it out. <br />
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So now, I am looking ahead and I feel those figurative foreshocks. The big shift is coming, and I am still not a fan of the anticipation of imagining what the new topography might look like. My oldest son is moving to Virginia for the next four years (if all goes as planned) and my younger son is going to be going to high school, and without his little sister around for the first time since he was in the kindergarten. Our exceptionally tight knit little family is spreading out and dividing up, and as I feel the shift and motion, it's the first time in my life I find myself NOT a fan of an earthquake. I kinda get the fear of my less adventurous friends.<br />
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I'm a realist-- I know these changes could and likely will have a ripple effect. I acknowledge that we are NOT talking tragedy here, but Jacob might never come back to California on a permanent basis. His future bride, his future calling, his future life could be in Virginia, or he could be called back to Guatemala from there, or "topography" I can't even imagine might be up ahead. Ethan said to me, "Jacob will be gone for my whole high school experience," and that's very likely - these current roommates may be like strangers at the end of four years, lots of changes happen in both their ages and stages. Tori feels a little left behind by both her brothers, and I don't know how being separated most of the day for a year will affect the relationship of my younger two (though I am hoping for the best.)<br />
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I am having a harder time with Ethan moving on to high school, for a number of reasons, but mostly because having Jacob already journeyed well into adulthood, I am very mindful of how fast these next four years will go. Last night I watched Ethan graduate middle school and I am very aware that if I blink too quickly, we will be at Toria's graduation next... and in four years we will have another high school graduation and likely a college one as well.<br />
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I still don't find myself wishing I lived in tornado or hurricane country, literally or figuratively, but I do find the idea of the stable and unchanging a bit winsome. I no longer wish I could freeze time, but if I could rewind I would. Someone told me a long time, much earlier on in my motherhood that "the days are long, but the years are short." But just like the moms I find myself admonishing with that deep word of wise truth, I didn't really listen, and I didn't really believe them. But now I do. <br />
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Change is inevitable (and I suppose it must be a good thing since God is such a big fan), and time is both a sprinter and a marathon runner, but today I just find myself wishing I didn't have to keep up. I'm gonna close my eyes for a minute and swallow back the tears rising in my throat because before I know it I am going to be the mother of three amazing grown-ups who'll won't believe how quickly time will run away from them... it'll sneak up on them too, just like an earthquake.<br />
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<br />Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-90111165893177578372015-06-01T11:35:00.003-07:002015-06-01T11:35:45.945-07:00What being a Christian means to meI've been thinking about this a lot lately - what it is, for me, to be a Christian-- not in the limited definition of having "accepted Christ as my Savior," although that is obviously the key, but beyond that. What is my faith about? Or rather, what does my faith make true about me, not in the <i>external</i> sense-- what others see, because I am not oblivious to how much I fall short in that, but the internal, "me and Jesus" reality of <i>My</i> <i>Walk of Faith.</i><div>
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I know this, how I would define that has change a LOT in the last dozen years. I look back at that 33-year-old young mom of three and I love her, but I can no longer totally relate to her. It's funny looking back at the age that was the end of Jesus' ministry, and in some ways I see that in my life too. At 33 I had a ministry-- in my "gift": teaching, speaking, sharing. I didn't have a "position," but I had respect. I was looked at as someone who had her life and head together, I knew the scriptures, I could break them down, I was a master at the word picture. I loved it - I lived for the charge of giving people Truth in bites that they could connect with, walk away with, hold onto. I was good at it. And when it was taken away from me a couple years later, it hurt like hell. </div>
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Rebelliously I continued in my gift of teaching and discipleship. I had a group of young teens that my husband and I ministered to and I had a group of women I ministered to in connecting them to one another. It was ironic that I was resisted by leadership and even as I was slowly pushed (or pulled?) toward the exit of that church, I was actively helping other women become more connected and plugged in. Both ministries were resisted, and both ministries were mimicked - neither of the <i>approved </i>replications survived-- it taught me about the difference between a good idea and a God idea. And so when I say to you that these ministries I helped birth were successful, I do so with the recognition that it was more about my <i>listening </i>than about me doing. Right time, right place, right people-- God led, otherwise if it had been all about me, failure would have been inevitable. But it wasn't. </div>
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That life lesson was the beginning of my understanding of what my relationship with the Lord was truly supposed to be about-- <i>listening</i>... and obeying. As the reins were pulled tighter and tighter in the "formal" sense of ministry, I fought harder and harder, but it was like beating the air. I wanted to stand before a large group again and share the Word and share my heart, and share the Jesus that I knew and loved. I didn't really recognize it at the time, but I was having an idol wrestled from my grip. My heart wasn't WRONG-- the number one draw for me was how connected I felt to the Holy Spirit when I allowed Him to lead my words and give me the strength and inspiration to share. I <i>loved</i> that. And I loved watching the women be ministered to, their nods, their tears, their words of gratitude after. It was exciting. </div>
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Then the Lord taught me this important lesson about ministry, it wasn't about crowds and masses; it was and is and will always be about individuals. Even if I stood in front of a room of 100 women and it only ministered to one soul, the ministry still mattered-- maybe it even mattered more. God showed me that even if I somehow managed to minister to all 100 women in the room, they were each ministered to individually. It makes me think of the accounts in the Bible of Jesus feeding the thousands. It's important to realize that food went in to each individual mouth, each individual body was sustained. You could have a "we brought food to the city of..." and if it didn't meet a need in every person, it fell short. </div>
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That was another lesson-- my ministry would <i>ALWAYS</i> fall short. It does always fall short. Most importantly though if it isn't <i>Christ</i>-centered, it is completely inept. That doesn't mean we should always be walking along with "doing this in Christ's name" emblazoned across our t-shirts as we serve and do good, but it does need to be emblazoned on our hearts. In fact I would even dare to say that there might even be times that we don't bring Christ up at all to the one we minister to, we just make it about them, loving them, meeting their needs. It might be seed planting, it might be relationship building, it might be any number of reasons, we just need to be sensitive of what God is asking of us in that moment, for whatever <i>His</i> reason may be. </div>
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His reason. His reasons. "His ways are not my ways," the Bible tells us. We're kind of funny when we start to think we know God so well that we have him all figured out on his whats whens and hows. I just have to laugh at myself when I think about all the times in my life I thought I had God all figured out, and I was so proud and impressed with myself with my ability to tow the line. I was such a good little Christian. In the words of Adam Ant, "Don't drink don't smoke, what do you do?" For me I sat back in judgment a lot. I tended to forget from whence I came. I forgot that it was at my lowest, filthiest, most sinful point in my life that I met Jesus and found out about His unconditional love. And somewhere along the line, I got impressed with all the change <i><u>I</u></i> had made in my life... and I decided everyone else should do likewise. </div>
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So as the revelation of what I had forgotten slapped me upside the head, I realized I had spent far too many years trying to make "God's" point. And then I realized, God didn't need me out there making points and winning arguments for him. He showed me I needed to be careful about where I wanted to plant my flag, or hang my heart, or pitch my tent, or whatever metaphor explains that God never asked me to be about a cause. That's not to say I wasn't ever going to be called to speak about Truth, but it did mean I was always going to be called to love people, <strike>even</strike>... especially the unlovely sometimes. And for the record, I <i>still </i>fall so short there. </div>
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I fall short everywhere. I find myself getting really excited these days when I feel like something is going right. I am no longer the overconfident girl standing up in front of a crowd sharing scripture with authority. Now mind you, I still love the few occasions I've had to do that, but its importance has declined. I'm just as aware of the importance and value of sitting down and talking with a girlfriend over coffee, or offering a cup of coffee to a homeless woman at Panera, or just listening to one of my kids process out a challenge in their day. </div>
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For me what being a Christian means today is different than what it meant a dozen years ago. It means my relationship with God (Father, Son and Spirit) ought to be my filter for everything in my life. It's not, but it ought to be, and it is what I continue to aspire to, but only with His help. Sometimes that means really hard things, like letting go of offenses, or going places I don't want to go, or doing things I don't want to do-- sometimes major, sometimes trivial. Being a Christian means saying "yes" to God before He even asks. It means laying aside a lot of I can'ts, I won'ts and I would never. Being a Christian, for me, means putting things in His hands. Sometimes it means putting things in His hands twice, or ten times or a thousand times because in my humanness I notoriously do try to take them back, but I aspire to leave them there. Being a Christian for me means accepting His sovereignty, in the good and the bad, the just and the unjust, the beautiful and the ugly, and in the painful (whether I am the cause or the recipient - because both happen.) His sovereignty is the real rub of Christianity for me, I'm all about it in the good and the blessing, and I need to be just as about it in the hard and the painful. And finally, and probably foremost what being a Christian means to me is trust. </div>
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Trust means letting Jesus be Lord. It's all tied in to the other things I listed previously, but it goes deeper. It means being open and vulnerable and willing to struggle, at times even hurt. Not just before Him, but out there in the world, in life. It means forgiving because He says so, giving because He asks me too, waiting when I don't want to. And it means doing all of that without explanation and understanding. (Boy right there is the obstacle of faith that some people never get past and therefore never believe.) Trust means giving up my right to agree with and understand everything I see in the world around me. It means accepting "His ways are not my ways." Man it's hard. But at the end of the day, I wouldn't have it any other way, because it's what makes Him God, and acknowledges that I am not. And in the end I can't not deny that He knows best, and I do not. I know that He loves me, and so many times He has proven that His ways are better, and He knows better. So even when I cannot see that, I have to trust that it's still true, even if I never see it in this lifetime-- which sometimes I won't. He has earned my trust anyway.</div>
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I wish I could come up with a beautiful conclusion to this blog, but I just don't have it. And I guess that's the reality of <i>My Walk of Faith</i>, or every walk of faith, it's a journey worth making, you just have to learn along the way that it's the journey <u><i>He</i></u> is leading you on, trust and follow. </div>
Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-6297603122868600242015-05-29T14:05:00.003-07:002015-05-29T14:08:09.509-07:00Surveys, and finals and essays, oh my! - Part 2: The PaperIf you would like to read my thoughts and insights in the creative and research process for this essay you can read part 1 of this blog post by clicking <a href="http://dianalovestowrite.blogspot.com/2015/05/surveys-and-finals-and-essays-oh-my.html" target="_blank">here: Surveys, and finals and essays, oh my! - Part 1: The Research</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Uphill Battle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I put my hand forward and demanded,
“Put it in my hand.” The panicked look on my oldest son’s face gave me
confidence in only one thing—I knew whatever I was going to find on the iPod
Touch that he gripped tightly in his hand was <i>not</i> going to make me happy.
When he began to try to tap rapidly at the touchscreen in front of him,
I looked to his father who told him sternly, “Give it to your mother, NOW!” My
son dropped his head forward and finally handed the device over. With only a
few taps and swipes across the screen, I discovered several sexually charged
text conversations and a photograph of a young girl I did not recognize. Looking no more than fifteen years old, she
stood in what appeared to be her own bedroom, her back arched, her lips pursed
together, lifting her shirt up; her bare breasts were completely exposed. My seventeen-year-old son had met her through
a “texting app” he had downloaded on his iPod. I had always tried to be
diligent about monitoring my son’s cell phone and computer use, but the
software application on this device, one I thought was restricted to playing
music and games, was the loophole my son found to invite the outside world into
our home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Sexting,” is a word derived from
the combination of the words “sex” and “texting;” it is used to describe the
sending and receiving of sexually explicit photographs and/or text messages via
the Internet or on cell phones. The majority of those “sexting” are teenagers
(Goldstein 516). Truthfully, sexting is
only one of several new challenges that has arisen for parents raising their
children in this technologically advanced day and age. The days of simply locking
the front door to keep our children safe from the harm of the outside world no
longer exist. Today the “world” and most of the ills it has to offer are right
at the one’s fingertips. Parents have to decide what boundaries they will
create to keep that world in check and protect their children and teenagers,
and then they will have to work diligently to keep those boundaries firm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> American Academy of Pediatrics’
“tech expert” Dr. Gwenn Schurgin O’Keeffe and author of the book <i>CyberSafe </i>indicates that there is no
“right age” to allow children to “dip a toe into the digital pond” (Tahnk 65).
Herein lies the longtime, great challenge to parents: there are no simple
answers in parenting; the added complication is of course that the cyber-factor
has brought the level of challenge to an entirely new level – a level that is
in constant flux with the continuous new development in technology. Toddlers with
tablets; middle school students posting “selfies” to their Instagram; a group
of teenagers “together” at Starbucks, noses “to the screen” of their smartphones–
ten years ago these phrases would have sounded like a foreign language. Today
they are commonplace activities, and moms and dads have to determine the rules
and policies for handling them in their homes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The reality is that because the
history of the cyber world is so brief, at this point in time there are more questions
than answers about the risks and long term effects to “plugging in” and/or
“signing on.” The gamut of cyber concerns runs from the benign to the
dangerous. Whether or not a child is spending too little time using their
imagination in traditional play seems trivial compared to whether or not an
adolescent has put him or herself at risk of a predator on the internet. When I
took my son’s iPod Touch in hand and looked more closely at the pornographic
picture sent to him, it was with just a few careful observations of the photo’s
background that I was able to determine a variety of personal information: the
girl’s name, the name of the high school she attended, the extracurricular
activity she participated in. With a quick Google search of the unusual school
name, I was able to determine what town she lived in. One can only hope she did
not knowingly put herself at such risk. In the 2010 book <i>Inside the Minds of Sexual Predators</i>, authors Katherine M. Ramsland
and Patrick Norman McGrain warn “Children are especially vulnerable to a
predator’s encroachment, because they spend hours in chat rooms talking with
strangers, tend to miss the signals of deception, and may be seeking what they
believe will be an innocent adventure. Often they’re unaware of the true danger”
(136). The fact is that even in the five years since the Ramsland/McGrain book
was written, the opportunity for danger has only increased. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Kik, Snapchat and ask.fm are three
of the most popular applications being used by teens and adolescents in 2015,
and they aren’t their parents’ Facebook. Kik is a Wi-Fi based “texting app”
that enables a young person to send private instant messages without being
monitored by their cell service and keeping no record outside the app of
messages being sent or received. This creates a challenge for parents who might
think monitoring their child’s cell phone bill is sufficient to determine their
texting use. Kik profiles can be made private; however, they can also be made
public. The phrase “Kik me” has become a commonplace tagline in the profile
descriptions of young people’s Instagram accounts, offering up their “address”
to be reached for a private conversation.
Typically Instagram profile taglines can be seen even by an unfamiliar user
who stumbles across a young person’s otherwise “private page.” Snapchat is also
an SMS text message style application. With its added enticement—the promise of
disappearing pictures and texts, it has gained the reputation as <i>the</i> “sexting app.” However with the
ability of most smartphones to snap a “screenshot” (a picture of texts or
pictures displayed on a receiving phone’s screen) nothing is guaranteed to truly
disappear and an impulsive moment can last a lifetime. The application ask.fm
entices users to “ask anything” and to do so with total anonymity. Ramsland and McGrain (specifically describing
Facebook and MySpace in 2010) refer to kids seeking to “create a place of their
own where they can exercise self-expression and a certain amount of
independence” (136), but the opportunity has moved far beyond the open
platforms like Facebook and MySpace and has moved into darker corners with
newer and more private applications. It is the job of parents to oversee and
monitor their children’s activities, they “are the most effective monitoring
device” (Tahnk 65), but the job continues to become a steeper and steeper
uphill battle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Recently this author created a survey
titled “Technology and Social Media” on SurveyMonkey. In it, people of all ages
and stages were asked about their own technology and social media usage as well
as the usage of their children. If responders had no children they were invited
to speculate what they thought their policies would be if they did. Among the
118 responses to the survey 63% of respondents indicated they would <i>never</i> allow their child to bring
technology to the dinner table, but nearly 34% do/would allow their children to
have their cell phones in their bedrooms at night after bedtime, and nearly 35%
would allow their children to use social media and technology with which they themselves
are not familiar. There appears to be a discrepancy here, whether it is a lack
of understanding or a difference in priority will remain to be seen. Interestingly
enough, when it came to questions about the ages children and adolescents ought
to be allowed to use technology and social media, it was the people surveyed
who had no children who had the strictest standards, many indicating that no
use should be allowed until adulthood. As tempting as it might be to lock the
proverbial “door” on the cyber world and shut it out completely, the logistics
are not there. “The media spends a lot of ink… on the scary aspects…, but there
are also a great deal of benefit that kids can reap” (Tahnk 65). The fact is,
2015 is a technology and social media based world, and children will not only
“dip their toes” in, but at some point they will actually have to fully swim in
the “pond” that is unavoidably in practically every American “backyard.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It is the burden of parents to determine
what their roles as “lifeguards” will entail in their own home and family. Kids
are “generally more savvy about computers than their parents, they can also
explore things and talk with strangers in ways their parents might try to
block. (In fact, about 50 percent of parents fail to even monitor what their
children do online, and most have no clue about encryption tricks kids devise
and pass around to hide information)” (Ramsland 136), so the actuality of how
that will look will surely be a process of trial and error. Merrimack Valley Child and Adolescent
Health’s pediatrician Carolyn Roy-Bornstein warns, “Technology is developing at
a rate that may be faster than our ability to monitor it and ensure its safe
use” (11); however, this does not relieve parents of their duty and obligation
to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">There are more questions than answers
about social media and technology and the long term effects on children and
youth, but perhaps, “questions” are exactly where the process needs to start:
What? Where? When? How? <i>What </i>are the
goals and purposes for social media and technology use in one’s household? <i>Where</i> is social media and technology use
appropriate? <i>When</i> is it appropriate
to allow children to use technology and social media? <i>How </i>are safety and good communication going to be implemented? The
conversations need to happen between parents and children in order to equip
them to use technology and social media in a healthy and enriching environment.
<i>Why? </i>This is the one question that <i>can </i>be answered here: technology and
social media aren’t going anywhere, and for that matter, neither are the
kids. It’s the job of the parent to find
the way to have both live together in a healthy harmony. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Works Cited<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">DePriest, Diana. "Technology and Social
Media." Survey.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>Survey
Monkey</em>. Palo Alto: SurveyMonkey
Inc, 1999-2015. Web. 07 May. 2015.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Goldstein, Dayna. "Sexting." <i>St.
James Encyclopedia of Popular Culture</i>. Ed. Thomas Riggs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> 2nd
ed. Vol. 4. Detroit: St. James Press, 2013. 516-517. <i>Gale Virtual Reference
Library</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> Web.
1 May 2015.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="spellingerror"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ramsland</span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">, Katherine M., and
Patrick Norman</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="spellingerror"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">McGrain</span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">. “Cyber Predators.”</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Inside the Minds</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> o</span></i></span><span class="normaltextrun"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">f</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></i></span><span class="normaltextrun"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Sexual Predators</span></i></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">. Santa Barbara,</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="spellingerror"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ca</span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">:</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="spellingerror"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Praeger</span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">, 2010.</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">eBook</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Collection (EBSCOhost).</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Web.</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">5 May 2015.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Roy-Bornstein, Carolyn. "Pediatric Points:
Texts, Sexts What’s Next?" <i>Pediatrics
for Parents</i> 27.3/4 (2011): 11. <i>Health
Source - Consumer Edition</i>. Web. 6 May 2015.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 50.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: -50.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Tahnk, Jeana Lee, and Shawn Bean. "Digital
Milestones: Raising a Tech Savvy Kid.” <i>Parenting
School Years </i>26.6 (2012): 64-67. <i>Health
Source – Consumer Edition.</i> Web. 1 May 2015. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-54548750520636325172015-05-29T14:05:00.002-07:002015-05-29T14:08:41.640-07:00Surveys, and finals and essays, oh my! - Part 1: The ResearchFor my final major assignment in my College Writing class I had to write a "research paper" on one of four topics that were related to four TedTalks we watched together as a class (I highly recommend TedTalks, check them out online.) <br />
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The Monday evening we watched those TedTalks, as I was walking to class, I was really struck and bothered as I walked far across the parking lot and campus (gotta protect that new car) by the way that the other (much younger) students that I passed along the way refused to engage or even make eye contact. They either had their noses buried in phones, or they purposely diverted their eyes when I would try to connect or even smile. It was really pulling at my heart, and it has been on my mind for several weeks as I had been noticing it all around me. In the coffee shop I saw a mother hold her phone up to her 9 month old's face to quiet him while she had coffee with a friend rather than pick him up or engage with him. A few nights before while at dinner with my husband I saw a family having dinner while mom and both kids were on their phones and dad just stared off eating as if alone at a full table. It bothered me. </div>
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So when the first TedTalk we watched that night was about the disconnection caused by social media and technology, I was primed to react. Shockingly I had kept relatively quiet for most of the semester, but at the end of the TedTalk I pulled my soapbox out and let the kids in the room have it. I talked about the rudeness and ineptness of their generation to be respectful and engage. I told them I understood (I too would rather text than call) but I warned them of the ills of little kids who had no social skills, like waiting, or behaving in public because moms and dads were always putting tablets and phones in front of them. I got passionate, and truthfully, they were receptive - when I finally stepped off my soapbox there were lots of nods and even a little rustle of small applause. I was sort of relieved they were not completely oblivious to the problem, and as I walked to the car that night one young mother even told me I had made her think and reconsider how she was doing "the tablet thing." </div>
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When the next TedTalk talked about the need to "stop the war on drugs" and I listened to one of my classmates talk about "how sad" it was that so much art and literature were probably missing from the world because LSD was illegal I had to swallow the new rise of passion - I felt I had already used my one soapbox pass for the night. So as I listened to the class support the legalization of all kinds of drugs, I just melted. After that we watched a couple more videos on food deserts and prisoner rehabilitation that were far less inciting for me. So at the end of the night I had to decide whether I would write a paper related to technology and social media or the war on drugs. I couldn't even make a decision for two more days. I was disturbed. </div>
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In the end I chose social media and technology-- primarily because I felt like I could be more reasonable. I looked around at this group or primarily 18-22-year-olds and who do not have the benefit of hindsight that being 45 presents. I no longer think I am immortal and I have stood at the side of enough graves or heard enough news about the death of friends or their children or acquaintances who have had their death caused by drug use, or known enough people who addiction has devastated, that I won't even buy into drug use being a freedom or a good thing... enough said. I chose passion, but I chose it safely.</div>
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The assignment was to "do a lot of research," and go into the project with questions, allow more questions to develop and "keep an open mind." I have to say, one thing I learned in this first semester of school, I am pretty set about what I believe and why. The instructor offered an assignment for enlightenment, and I feel like the <strike>light</strike> Light in my life is already on. So I did my best to keep an open mind, but I knew there would be no great revelation or change in what I believed. So I started my research.</div>
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I looked through the required scholarly journals and books and I also did a survey online that 118 people responded to anonymously. Contrary to popular belief (concern) I really wasn't able to figure out who was who much at all. I had responses from all ages 12 to 82 but the bulk (42%) came in the 36-45 age group and the next largest response was in the 46-55 age group (19%.) The male/ female split was 24% to 76%. 66% of people were married. 71% had kids living at home. 88% were regular/ familiar Facebook users, 45% had no idea what Kik was and 50% had never heard of ask.fm. 97% have a smart phone, 77% use a tablet. </div>
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I asked questions about texting and driving (27.5% do so Always, often or sometimes) and 66% responded that they do so at a red light (heads up, you can get a ticket for that too.) 67% use their phones and social media in social situations with friends and 50% often or sometimes (0% for always) bring their phones to the dinner table. 67% of you swear you never let your kids use social media you aren't familiar with, but then again half of you have never heard of one of the most popular teen social medias - so my conjecture is that a few things may be getting past you. </div>
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When I asked about the scenes that I had seen that bothered me (the mom and the infant, the dad alone at the full table) most of you were bothered too. I also brought up the kids on tablets in restaurants and there was a split there, a lot of folks saw it as the modern day papers and crayons and others agreed with my thoughts about kids needing to learn to interact and behave in public. I would just say this, it's a whole lot easier to "unplug" from the crayon and paper - are your kids unplugging from the tablet. It bothers me when I drive behind a minivan and see the TV screens in the backs of you headrests and every child constantly plugged in and entertained (and truthfully, I could share text from my other class and the book <i>Entertaining Ourselves to Death</i> to back up those concerns, but this has already gotten really long.) </div>
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What I found through my research was simple - we mostly justify our own actions. Moms with toddlers who were letting their kids use tablets stated that they thought that was the right age to allow it. Moms who let their preteens have smartphones thought that was the right age. And interestingly enough it was the people who had no kids who thought no kids should be allowed to use social media and a lot of technology until adulthood. My thought - well, I was the perfect parent before I had kids too. So I get the unrealistic aspect of that. When my oldest was little I sometimes had to rewind Mickey Mouse in the VCR ten times in a single day just to get a few things done around the house. It's what worked for this mama, but I know now that didn't necessarily make it right. And I do think there is a big leap from the VCR to the internet, but maybe I'm just justifying? </div>
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I was surprised that 34 % of parents allow kids to have their phones in their bedrooms at night - but perhaps the benefit of being burned in that has made my hindsight sharp. It seemed oddly compared to 64% of you never allowing them to have their phones at the dinner table - sort of points out that "supervision" is not the primary concern. But it turns out that most people feel lost without their cellphones, so maybe that has something to do with it? I don't know. </div>
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Oddly enough since my research and this survey I finally succumbed to allowing both my 14-year-old (finishing up 8th grade) and 13-year-old (finishing up 7th) get smartphones in the last week - despite my passion. My oldest was 19 before he moved into the smartphone world. Of course I also armed their smartphones with a great software called Mobile Fence that limits what they can access, and reports to me throughout the day about where they are physically and what they are doing on their phones, everything from accessing the messages, to receiving a call (with number shown) visiting Instagram (the only social media I allow at this point.) And the app has the ability for me to block anything and anyone remotely. I can even shut it down completely if need be. So although I seemingly relaxed my policy compared to their older brother, I actually managed to get a stronger leash - and I'm ok with that. </div>
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I was going to share my essay here, but I will do it in a separate post since this one has already gotten so long. But suffice it to say that the instructor offered up the possibility that we might not be able to answer whatever question we came to decide on as our thesis, and I ran with that opportunity. My thesis became about the parental responsibility to monitor our kids in the cyber world. I have been burned there too, so again it was not a new stance or understanding for me through my research but it did affirm what I already knew and experienced.</div>
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As I have stepped away from my former legalism over the last few years, I am completely capable of recognizing that at least as Christian parents, we are all called to parent our children individually, and what works in my home and family may not work in yours - and that's ok. I need to trust the Holy Spirit in you, and likewise you need to trust it in me - BUT (big fat screaming BUT) we ALL need to carefully evaluate how much we are truly doing our job, truly monitoring, truly seeking the Holy Spirit even in our parenting and more specifically in our parenting in the cyber world. </div>
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If I told you I drove my kids out into a gang infested ghetto and dropped them off for 8 hours to fend for themselves, I suspect most of you would be calling social services on me - but the truth is when we blindly let them interact on social networking and the world wide web, there are just as many dangers and dirtbags out there, but because our children seemingly sit across the room or in their bedroom, we allow ourselves to live satisfied under the illusion that all is right in their worlds, but predators, and cyberbullying and temptations abound. I know, I have learned that the hard way - which is where the hook of my essay starts. </div>
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If you would like to read the end result of my research paper, click <a href="http://dianalovestowrite.blogspot.com/2015/05/surveys-and-finals-and-essays-oh-my_29.html" target="_blank">here: The Uphill Battle (Surveys, and finals and essays, oh my! - Part 2: The Paper) </a></div>
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Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-49088295143916033222015-05-19T11:07:00.001-07:002015-05-19T11:07:27.090-07:00Hot-tempered Jesus lover I have the worship music playing in my office today, because somehow that seems like the closest best option for what I feel like I need-- to crawl up into the very lap of God and just be held.<br />
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I have the unfortunate temperament combination of melancholy choleric - which means I am greatly disturbed by what I see that seems wrong in my eyes, and then I get pretty pissed off when I can't fix it, which opens a pathway (that I don't always take, but have taken enough to know it's not a good one) right into depression.<br />
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I feel deeply. I don't feel deeply like my empathetic friends. Others' pain won't weigh me down, I am not the "cry with you" friend - but I will get pissed off and rise up if you are being treated unfairly. I am fiercely loyal like that. So that does not make me the friend who can "just listen." Because if I cannot "do" something about your situation, you can be certain I will likely have a lot of thoughts and opinions about what YOU should do about it for yourself. Sometimes it comes off in an angry and aggressive manner, but that's not the intention. Underneath is actually a loyalty and compassion that is worth its weight in gold. But don't burn me, because that choleric melancholy personality is highly flammable, and it will go up in flames.<br />
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I am prone to frustration. Frustration makes me want to DO something - like write a scathing blog or Facebook post - especially when I sense injustice. Man, that gets the blood pumping. But I have improved considerably - like right now... instead of writing the blog about what I WANT to write it about - I am writing about the reasons I feel the need to write it in the first place... and I am trying to crawl in the lap of the Lord...<br />
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The "way" I am isn't wrong. Yes, it has its challenges, but it's not bad, no matter how many people have tried to "fix" me over the years. That passion and need to ACT, SPEAK, SAY, DO - well, it's a God-given one. I thank God for putting people like Peter and Moses in the Bible. Oh how I can relate to those hot-tempered men who loved the Lord. That's me. Thankfully no one has ended up dead or with their ear cut off in my world. Because let me tell you... there have been days.<br />
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It's all about the Holy Spirit, I suppose - which one of us is running the show is key. And in all honesty, I must confess, it's me WAY more often than it ought to be. I'm so grateful God's grace is still sufficient for me.<br />
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Another great challenge - some of that stuff I feel an overwhelming compulsion to say? Well, sometimes it needs to be said - even if it's going to piss off or offend. But no where is it more critical that the Holy Spirit be in the lead than there. And I have something - something I will have to say at some point... because it really needs to be said, but I am trying so hard to let the Lord lead. <br />
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So today, I feel overwhelmed by the heaviness of what I see- what's so downright disturbing... but if I let it out now it will be in my flesh... so I am instead wearily climbing into the Father's lap. I am longing to be held and praying for the wisdom to say it in the right way at the right time. <br />
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Father, hold my heart...<br />
Holy Spirit, guide my words...<br />
Jesus... Lover of my soul... melancholy choleric and all...<br />
Thank You...Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7933280158020898941.post-46570991700968357942015-05-15T13:41:00.000-07:002015-05-15T13:41:14.925-07:00God runs ahead...<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Back in January before I started on this "back to college" adventure (for lack of a better phrase) I felt confident of only a few things - going back to school was God's idea, and He would see me through it. Specifically what I heard the Lord calling me to was twofold (and I blogged about it then) (1) Live open-handed; (2) God's grace would be sufficient. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">In all honesty, I had no idea what to expect. Taking on three classes felt like a big bite to take, <i>but</i> it felt like what I was <i>supposed</i> to do. So I did it. Now mind you I am 8 days away from the actual finish line, and the dreaded "finals" definitely have the potential to do some damage, but as of right now, today I have three solid (dare I say <i>high</i>) A's. Turns out in my older and wiser days the academic process appeals to my suppressed Type A personality. I like the deadlines, the organization, the to do list. I even like the competition (albeit against myself) of grading. Turns out I like the competition of class ranking too, but I try not to dwell too much on that one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Going into all of this, I thought the promise of sufficient grace would be about my struggles and failures as a student. And in all honesty, at times that has been true. I've had to face my inner perfectionist, whose existence I have long preferred to deny (because in all honesty as a wife and mother, "she" had to be locked in solitary confinement, never allowed to see the light of day). So it was grace and open handedness when I had to confess my limits at times, once even skipping a lab assignment altogether which may not seem like much from the outside looking in, but "allowing myself to fail" (even on a 10 point lab assignment) was harder than I ever thought it would be, way different than the 19-year-old who had no trouble at all being the epic failure who flunked out of college altogether. If only I could have synced old me and this me in a more successful manner. But now we have come full circle, I'm supposed to live open handed and remembering God's grace is sufficient. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">It's been a strange few months. All three of our cars have taken a hit - literally. My new car got fixed, Neal's older truck got tolerated and Jacob's likely totaled car sits in the limbo of decision making out behind our work. Unfair, inconvenient, irritating, those are the words that come to my mind, but the reality is, they're all just stuff, and in the big picture, I need to focus <i>thankfully</i> on the grace that helped everyone involved to just walk away. There's that open handed thing again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Sitting here in the midst of inconvenience and a measure of relative success I'm looking back over the last six and a half months, and I see the glimpses of God's sovereignty. Back in November I hit a physical low like none other in my life - I was scary sick, toxic even. I had a real wake up call that got me on a path that has me today 43 lbs lighter, considerably stronger and feeling so much better. I am keenly aware of the fact that if I hadn't hit that low I would never have made the changes I did - and I would not have had the energy to keep up with all I've had to if I hadn't gotten so sick. The bad that was happening, it has turned out to work for my good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">So when I sit here now, knowing I am supposed to be back in school, but not knowing why - I have a little more confidence God's got a point. And it's not just with school and car wrecks, but with the decision I made back in January to walk away from regular church attendance too. The person in me who has always seen the world in a very black and white rule-filtered way doesn't really get it. But that path too, I am certain, at least for this season, is the road God has directed me to. Like with my health, there had to be a catalyst that pushed me to the decision, so sometimes it's really hard, and sometimes it really hurts, but in an odd way, I have never felt closer to the Lord. Maybe it's the desperation it creates to stay connected to Him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">I've had to let go of the "supposed to be's" in my life. It's been a 45 year long journey to realize that they never really pan out the way we want them to anyway, and yet somehow God's promises seem to prevail-- all things together for good. I'm at a place where I can get a glimpse of the balance in that. Yes, perhaps it would have been better to have taken care of school 25 years ago, to have been more like the conscientious me now back then, but if I had been, maybe my path would have been different - marriage, motherhood, staying home with my kids. Even as I look at the precariousness of our circumstances today, I wouldn't want to go back and undo the time that I had being at home and raising my kids. Even when I was failing out of school at 19, lost - the Lord had run ahead, and there are benefits that made it worth it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">So as I look around now, still seemingly "failing" in some areas of my life from the outside looking in, I have this greater confidence, that although I cannot begin to see or imagine the specifics of how, I can know with confidence, God in His sovereignty is <i>still</i> running up ahead. I may not be a part of a church, but I am still a part of THE Church. I may have no idea why at 45 I am a college freshman, but I can know that God wouldn't call me there without a purpose - even if it's something seemingly insignificant for me along the way. He's run up ahead, He was here before I got here, and He has prepared the way for His purpose to prevail. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">God is Sovereign. Sometimes that really rubs me wrong. When I don't like my circumstance, it frustrates me to know that He has allowed it to filter through His hand. Sometimes I want to stomp my foot and demand the answer I have no right to, but at the end of my fit, His Sovereignty remains. But on the other hand, His sovereignty remains-- to say, that I don't have to be fearful and frustrated with what I don't like. Instead, I can rest in Who God is and know that because of that Sovereignty, one way or another, He will work it out in the end. He always runs up ahead to see to it. He's never caught off guard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Plans, purposes - His will always prevail. </span></div>
Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08599913837116206565noreply@blogger.com1