tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91315490482636085242024-02-19T07:59:43.972-08:00Amusing GraceTales from the trenches of parenthood, through the eyes of a pastor's wifeSandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-81219072290550091452020-03-22T00:15:00.000-07:002020-03-22T00:24:10.301-07:00Can your faith withstand exile?The other day I met a lady and when she found out that my husband is a pastor, she ran down a litany of questions. "Have you seen 'God's Not Dead'? So you listen to Toby Mac? Oh, you home school too? What curriculum do you use? Have you used (favorite 'Christian' curriculum here)? Have you read (current favorite book at Christian bookstore)?"<br />
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I have been subjected to this line of questioning quite a bit since moving to Oregon. Very good, well-meaning people asking me the same questions. I think I finally understand why.<br />
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There seems to be, within people who if asked would identify themselves as "Christians", a popular culture. There are preachers we "should" all be listening to (Voddy Bauchmann, Paul Washer, and around here, Matt Fox), authors we "should" all be reading (Lysa Teurkhurst, James Dobson, Gary Chapman), and music we "should" all be dancing with (Casting Crowns, Selah, MercyMe). <br />
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Please know that I do or have listened, read, or feebly danced with, many of the above.<br />
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But the line of question is asked not because of a desire to get to know me or genuinely learn about me. It is asked to judge if I am a "Christian". If I preform well on the Quiz on "Christian" Culture, then I am judged as a Christian. I am one of the group, a true follower of Jesus. There are smiles and nods and secret inside "high-fives".<br />
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If I don't, which my husband usually doesn't, because beyond the music he doesn't really care to keep up with the books and the preachers (more on that later), he receives puzzled, quizzical looks of bewilderment. "Is this guy for REAL?!? He's a pastor and he doesn't know (current Christian icon)?!? What kind of church/pastor is this?!?" (He probably hasn't noticed, but I have noticed.)<br />
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Hmmmm. . . . .<br />
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<i>Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ----Hebrews 11:1</i><br />
<i><sup class="versenum"> </sup>A
wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall
no sign be given unto it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas. And he left
them, and departed.----Matthew 16:4</i><br />
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<i>Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.-----Romans 10:17</i><br />
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<i>The just shall live by faith.------Hebrews 10:38</i><br />
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What I figured out is that there are a lot of people identifying with the culture of Christianity that very likely aren't Christians at all.<br />
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Although only God can judge the heart of a man, He did leave us with a means of inspecting someone's Christian walk: judging the fruits of their lives.<br />
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But the most important thing we can judge is our own lives. (Actually the books of 1, 2, and 3 John are great at helping us judge ourselves).<br />
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The verse in Romans 10:17 says that faith comes by hearing the word of God. What is the word of God? Jesus is called the "the Word", and Jesus told us in John that when He left earth that the "Comforter would come unto you, and he will speak those things that testify of me." The Bible isn't Jesus. Jesus is Jesus.<br />
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I hear a lot of the time, "God really spoke to me in that song/book/preacher", and while God can certainly use those things. . . .He doesn't have to HAVE those things. He is God, and He is big enough to communicate to His children through, as Elijah and so many have discovered, the "still small voice" of the Spirit.<br />
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Which brings me back to the point on exile.<br />
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The apostle John was not martyred for the cause of Christ unlike the other disciples, but was rather sent to exile on the Isle of Patmos. "Patmos" means "my killing" in the Greek. This was not a place where a person would want to be. And although he was exiled from his own people, he wasn't exiled from all people, as Patmos had temples erected to false gods.<br />
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There were quite possibly no other Christian people on Patmos. Maybe there were, maybe there weren't, but it is pretty easy to see that Patmos was not an island set up on Christian principles.<br />
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And yet------this is where God gave him THE REVELATION. As in, THE book of Revelation.<br />
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In fact, John writes in the very beginning, "I was in the Spirit on the Lord's Day . . . "<br />
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John was in the Spirit, in the presence of God. . .. in the absence of a Bible to read, or the works of other Christian authors, musicians, and movie producers.<br />
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John was certainly a blessed man with a special job from God. He wrote the book of Revelation and the books of John, and is someone I KNOW I need to be more like.<br />
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But the Spirit of God is given to all who are truly known of God. John himself tells us that in 1 John 2:27: <i><span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">But the anointing which
ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man
teach you: but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is
truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in
him.</span></i><br />
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<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Do you have real faith in Jesus? If you were suddenly unplugged from Christian culture, would you find comfort in just being in the presence of God? Have you ever really been in the presence of God? Being with the Lord is incredibly humbling-----those in the Bible who found </span><i><span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"> </span></i><span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">themselves in God's presence, even someone like Joshua, fell on their faces before the Lord in fear and humility. If you haven't had an experience where you felt like that in prayer, where you felt humbled and lowly and unworthy, you need to talk to God about it. Salvation is that kind of experience. If your salvation experience didn't include humility and repentance and then a peace from God, you need to make sure that you really have salvation.</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">If you have had that experience and are like me, do you run too quickly to Christian culture to meet your spiritual needs? I know for me, when I have a problem with my relationships or something else and I need answers, it is very tempting to open a book or turn on the radio rather than humbly pray and seek God for what HE wants me to do. </span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Why? Because it is easier! There is no waiting on the Lord. It is instant, fast. . . and not specifically accurate to me. Why would I not go to God, when He made me and knows exactly what I need? Because I may have some repenting to do for my sins to Him before I can really start to pray and seek God for what I need. Oh, and the biggest one of all:</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<i><span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">He may want me to sacrifice some things in my life if I start asking Him to help me.</span></i><br />
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<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Christian media doesn't generally do that. It kinda leaves it on my terms to define what it means to me.</span><br />
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<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">But the Holy Spirit gets right down where you live at. You don't even know what you don't know about yourself. But when you get into the presence of His light and it shines in the dark corners of your heart----then you have a problem to get solved, and it's probably going to hurt. Because God is GOD, and wants to "Lord" over your life. He won't force Himself on you, but He does desire that we kill off our desires and live our lives the way He would want us to.</span><br />
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<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Friends and loved ones, may we all strive to follow JESUS. Actually JESUS. Not some song or book or movie about Him. Not a preacher who talks about Him.</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">But may we fall in love with Jesus.</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">I used to be a little dismayed that my hubby didn't follow "the culture", and when I would see someone give him the look I would scramble on the inside to find something to say to give this person evidence that he was "legit". </span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Not anymore. </span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">I don't care if he knows the culture, because I realized long ago that, although not perfectly, he actually follows Jesus. He seeks Him in prayer when he has a problem he can't solve far faster than I used to, but this journey has caused me to be a faster learner that I thought I could be.</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">You are all loved. May God bless you today and always-----</span><br />
<span class="text 1John-2-27" id="en-KJV-30578">Sandra </span><br />
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-27359158280289452052019-03-12T23:21:00.001-07:002019-03-12T23:21:56.158-07:00Dying like PaulIn all the despairing I do over it, homeschooling really is such a blessing. If nothing else it affords a person like me an inordinate amount of time to learn and to ruminate, and hopefully, to grow. <div>
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Right now we are in the Roman Empire during the reign of an increasingly unstable Nero. I am attempting, extremely feebly, to marry Roman history with the New Testament. It has been fascinating to me. Learning about the Roman Empire makes the New Testament take on an even richer meaning. For example, when you consider that it is estimated that nearly 75% of the Roman Empire was in slavery----sort of a secret slavery, in that there were no special uniforms or regulations for slaves----those verses about "servants and masters" seem a great deal softened when seen through the lens of historical context. You can see God's care for those in such circumstances. </div>
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This week what humbled me greatly was learning about the Apostle Paul.</div>
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I "know" Paul. I can factually teach about the simple highlights of Paul with relative ease----he was Saul, he consented to Stephen's death, he persecuted Jesus but thought he was persecuting radical religious blasphemers for the sake of God, he had his "road to Damascus" moment, literally; he had to escape capture of the Jews forever, he traveled a lot, he made tents for a living although he was a Roman citizen and a very well-educated Jew. He wrote a TON, he was bold, he was in and out of prison, beaten and stoned, he preached all over, he healed people, he was shipwrecked, bit by a venomous snake without harm, and he met his demise in Rome.</div>
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Not only have I taught Sunday school kids about Paul, but I have taught my own kids, and have listened to my own husband and many others lead Bible studies and preach about Paul, all over the space of nearly 25 years.</div>
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But I think sometimes I am so close to the fire I don't see the flames. I lose the marvel of the fire dancing, leaping, sparking up in the air, licking up whatever is in its path, crackling and lifelike in the darkness. I forget to inhale that deep woodsy scent of the campfire. I just know it is fire, it is hot, and I move on. </div>
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Thankfully, His word is a living Word. His Spirit opens up the word, and shows in real time what we specifically need to see. What a blessing!</div>
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When Paul was assured by Jesus that he must go to Rome, Paul knew that meant his death. That revelation came several<b><i> years</i></b> before his death. He knew that Jesus was deliberately leading him in a slow death march before the head of Rome, so that Jesus would be witnessed in the testimony of Paul before the most powerful man in all the earth. </div>
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What did he do in this march? He appeared in court several times. He testified to governing men (in the presence of his enemies) about Jesus, to some of them many times, and implored them to repent. He neglected to secure his own release, although he could have. He was cheerful, he was kind, he was concerned with the needs of all around him. He was mostly concerned with the state of their souls. He wrote letters admonishing, encouraging, and loving the churches. He wrote personal letters to those behind him, younger men who needed teaching and encouragement. He healed the sick and dying. He wrote to the owner of the runaway slave Onesimus, beseeching mercy for him. He loved the Roman guards over him, the base and crude prisoners beside him, the sinner before him. </div>
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What he never did was look in the mirror of self-pity.</div>
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I think that is because he didn't look in the mirror at all. Was he in need of comfort? Surely. It speaks in Acts of him "taking courage" when in the presence of other brothers in his journey to Rome. But Paul was busy. Busy in the work of Jesus. Busy loving, busy working, busy writing. </div>
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When he could preach, he preached. When he could serve, he served. When he couldn't do those things. . . .he wrote. Beautiful, well-written, spirit-inspired letters that were focused on Jesus and the recipient. He was dying----dying a beautiful, thriving, productive, joy-filled death. </div>
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So here is where "fire" meets "flame": I am dying. So are you. We are all dying. Our marches may be long or short; we don't know. Paul didn't know either. He was essentially, waiting to die. And so are we. Only God knows the time for us. </div>
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Only God knows the breaths left. Only God knows the hours left in our sometimes confusing circumstances. Perhaps you are in a waiting room of sorts----not sure where you are headed, not sure how long you are where you are, but still. . . waiting. . . . </div>
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How will I wait? Will I continue to wait, gazing into the mirror of self? Self-pity, self-justification, self-service, self-will?</div>
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Or will I hang the black drape of death over my mirror to self? Will I instead gaze OUT-----out at those around me, those before me, and use my testimony as a witness to both small and great? Will I use my hands to serve where needed, my words to encourage, admonish, and exhort, my money to show kindness and hospitality and to "receive all that came in unto him" (Acts 28:30)? </div>
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Will I love with abandoning considerations of repayment? Will I completely and utterly let JESUS, and the best He has to offer, be my all in all? Will I "run the race with patience"? Will I truly be able to say, "I <b><u><i>have</i></u></b> fought a good fight, I<i><u> <b>have</b></u></i> finished my course, I <b><u><i>have</i></u></b> kept the faith?"</div>
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Can you even imagine the joy that Jesus had when looking down on Paul? Will I ever bring that joy to my sweet Savior?</div>
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"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. . . .. there are no more Nero's."</div>
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There doesn't have to be.</div>
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There is plenty of work to do.</div>
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But the first task. . . .. . . . .</div>
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is to drape that mirror.</div>
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May we each aspire to SEE the work around us.</div>
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Love to you all this fine day,</div>
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Sandra </div>
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Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-81702663140694307452017-10-23T23:22:00.001-07:002017-10-23T23:22:47.261-07:00The Eye of my Little StormI have realized in the past several years that I have no real problems in life. <div>
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Really. The story I am about to tell you is one of those things that first world people "endure". </div>
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But I love and try to serve, and far more importantly, am valued and loved by a God who cares about my circumstances. My little, everyday, fairly ordinary circumstances, and for that I will be grateful for all of eternity. When He knows that I really, really need my Daddy, He shows up in utter and absolute perfection, leaving me bewildered, breathless, and immensely humbled; starstruck at the enormous love He pours over me.</div>
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I think of all the times that my children run to me with some "problem" that is so very big to them, and an annoyance to me, and they generally know exactly what I think of it. I am not a great sympathizer of non-logical things. I am a work in progress.</div>
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Not so my Jesus. He is infinitely patient with me. So, so patient, and good, and kind.</div>
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This past July 4th we gorged ourselves at a barbeque fit for a king, prepared by friends, and my oldest shoveled it in. Going back for more and more, he was finally satisfied, and we left. The next morning he was sick and I suspected food poisoning. He was a lot of what it said he should be on WebMD, and since that makes it so, I figured that was the problem. Except no one else was sick. A quick inventory of ingestibles revealed that he had not eaten anything special, so I thought perhaps he picked up a virus.</div>
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I was busy that day helping a dear friend with something that really was a very important thing. As I helped her my son sat in the waiting room and quickly developed a fever.</div>
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I got him home and I began to suspect. . . . appendicitis. I didn't know why. I just did. So I called the doctor. His doctor wasn't there, so I got the On Call One. I don't like the On Call One. At all. I have my reasons.</div>
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I talked to the nurse, who left a message for the On Call One, who was supposed to contact me, "soon".</div>
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Nearly three hours later, I called back.</div>
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My biggest fear when moving from my comfort zone in the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in a tiny town on the coast was not tsunami's, wildfires, or endless rain.</div>
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My biggest fear was that one of my very bestest favorite beloveds would get emergency ill, and I would be stranded with a very small hospital and no trauma center, unless you want to take a helicopter far, far away.</div>
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No one knew this that I know of. But that's what it was. </div>
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I call On Call Guy. Something has happened in the past three hours. We have other things going on.</div>
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I am CONVINCED it is appendicitis.</div>
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How?</div>
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<i>I just knew. </i></div>
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And I know it needs to come OUT. </div>
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As in, I knew like I knew when I was in labor with my kids. It is an unshakable knowledge. And I am fooling around with On Call Guy, the gatekeeper for my healthcare.</div>
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On Call Guy finally relays, "It is probably a virus. He will be OK."</div>
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"Ok, thanks", I placate. I am done, and we are going to the E.R.</div>
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Ah, the E.R. The E.R. has a reputation here for, shall I say, "extremely long wait times and questionable judgement." </div>
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My fear is becoming reality.</div>
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Out of respect, I call the hubby. "Well, how do you 'know'? Really?? I mean, what if you run clear over there, and it is nothing?" I feel like I am going to jump out of my skin. But I say, clearly and somewhat definitively, "OK. I will wait for you to get here. Then you can see what you think." He would be home in about 40 minutes. </div>
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In the meantime, I am pacing my house. I am restless and irritated and unable to relax, so tightly wound and on edge.</div>
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And then it hits me: this-----this wildcat inside me---- is a GIFT. I'm not supposed to relax because if I relax, this will get missed. This is my job, to get this kid to the hospital and make sure this thing gets OUT. And that is OK. </div>
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This realization makes things so much better. Hubby comes home, assesses (he is in health care) and too, is convinced. So I am off.</div>
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The long E.R. wait? Less than 3 minutes.</div>
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First doctor I see? "The appendix needs to come out."</div>
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One time this child was under anesthesia. He had to be given medicine to bring his heart rate up. I was told then to make sure I told every surgeon ever to be very careful. </div>
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He got the best surgeon.</div>
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No problems with anesthesia.</div>
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From check in until the last stitch was a grand total of something like 6 hours. In less than 18 hours we were home.</div>
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And the whole time, I KNEW it had to come out.</div>
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But more than that, I KNEW that God was right there. Oh, the peace! Never was a mama so peaceful, so serene when they told me that they would take him to surgery and have it out! I am less peaceful at the fabric counter at Jo-Ann's! I was so thankful, and just, so so peaceful. </div>
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God taught me that day: in the eye of your storm, even if it is not a big one, I love you enough to be right there with you, guiding you, loving you, comforting you, caring for you.</div>
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All I need to do is listen.</div>
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To trust and obey my sweet Lord.</div>
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My faith isn't in the good healthcare we received, but I am so thankful for it. </div>
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My faith is in the One whose palm I rest in, whether that is here or there.</div>
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He knows your secret storm, and He will put you right there so that you can learn of Him and experience His goodness.</div>
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Ah, there is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and that Friend is Jesus.</div>
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My prayer is that you know His peace.</div>
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Love to you all-----</div>
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Sandra </div>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-5256285411512667522017-08-17T15:45:00.003-07:002017-08-17T15:45:51.080-07:00Just Two Boxes<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-f5630605-f25e-4a07-0d35-87f8aa61f260" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We look at one behavior expressed in the entire lifetime of an individual that we have never met personally, and as a result, put them in a labeled box. We close the lid, put it away in the basement of our mind, and feel pretty good about ourselves, as though we have done a service to all humanity and should be thanked for it. We have simple-mindedly simplified the human condition. How very nice and tidy it is now! How very unchallenged we can be, in our existence that is uncluttered with dissenting opinions!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We don’t even have that many boxes to choose from. Just a few. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But that one person will fit, at least according to us, entirely in that box.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wonder, if we examined our own behavior over the course of our lifetime, what box would we be in? We can’t even remember what we have done in our lifetime. Certainly we would pick our most shining moments? Times when we sacrificed, excelled, succeeded, and shined above all? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Surely we would not place ourselves in a box labeled with our own prejudices, our dirty secrets, our shame, our dysfunction, our weakness. Surely not. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet we know the truth about ourselves. We know that we aren’t able to be presented in a gift-wrapped, bow topped box. We know that we are many, many boxes, and if we are completely honest, we are a basement full of bad boxes before we are three tiny gift boxes. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are selfish takers. We are worried about us, about our lifestyle and opinions being challenged, our comfort, about losing our right to self. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so we take others and place them in boxes, because then we can feel much, much better about our own boxes. We are even willing to dig up the literal boxes of our forefathers, just to place them in a different box and bury them for good, throwing good and bad in the same box, burying it deep, and labeling it as bad, final, over.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know, there are really only two people in history who were able to be relegated to a single box.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first one is Jesus. He is in one box labeled “GOOD”. He is the only completely, perfectly good human being to ever touch this earth. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second one is Satan. He is bad. Always bad, and in the bad box. He is against the good. Jesus (the Good One) said that he is a thief, a liar, and a destroyer. He is consistently so.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You and I? Other than the fact that we were made in the image of God, we don’t have any claim to the Good Box. We are in the bad box.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every. Single. One. Of. Us.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are no black robes and gavels in the bad box. We are like children, running around in imaginary play, judging one another by a different standard than the one we apply to ourselves. We are largely unaware of our black box residence, and the wonderful work we do for its main resident.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the Good Box? Well, the man in the Good Box is different. He does have a robe and a gavel. But He looks at the bad box, and feels an overwhelming amount of love for the people stuck in it. In fact He died for the opportunity to. . . . . </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rescue those bad people (you AND me) in the bad box, and let them be in His box. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself”---- direct quote from the man in the Good Box. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apply the same forgiving, understanding, merciful standard to ALL OTHER HUMAN BEINGS as you do for yourself. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Can you even imagine? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instead of putting people in boxes, </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Start thinking about which box YOU are in.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-10710866475030376732017-01-18T23:52:00.002-08:002017-01-19T00:11:33.006-08:00We need a better IDEA<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I read the paper, and my breath halted at the weight
of the sentence: <i>agree to waive the right
to a free appropriate public education (FAPE), and assume all educational
responsibilities of your child. . . . <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Whoa. This
was on us. This was on ME. I was to be the primary educator for my child
with autism. If I failed, he failed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Steeling my resolve, I
signed, and made one of the very best decisions I have ever made in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There has been much in the news lately about IDEA,
with president-elect Trump’s Secretary of Education appointment, Betsy DeVos,
being under fire for a perceived lack of knowledge on IDEA. IDEA stands for the “Individuals With
Disabilities Education Act”, and is the federal government’s legal assurance
that all children, regardless of disability, are to be given a “free
appropriate public education”, which includes as much inclusion with typical
peers in a typical classroom as is possible for their ability. It is a well-written, beautiful, 40 -page
document handed to parents and educators across the nation, and no doubt was
well-intentioned in its purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Much like our bill of rights, however, the scope and
breadth of its application into the lives of those it was written to protect
depends much upon the viewpoint of those administering the law itself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I was first handed the 40 page book, I read it
from cover to cover, because I am a nerd like that. I found nothing alarming in its verbiage, and
took comfort it the fact that it seemed to actually address every possible
scenario my panic-stricken, scared, mother-of-a-freshly-diagnosed-child brain
could come up with, which was a pretty impressive list. I went to the IEP meeting at my local school
district, which said that our son should be placed into an inclusive preschool
to enhance his verbal and social skills, and after he was evaluated, was slated
to have speech, occupational, and physical therapy. We opted to forego PT as my husband is a PT,
and instead were looking forward to speech and OT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My independent research of all things autism----and
I mean ALL things-----told me that our son needed “intensive therapies” for
speech and OT<i>. Intensive.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I lived in a very good school district, with
professionals whom I believe genuinely cared about the progress of our
son. But I was rather dismayed when “intensive”
meant, “group speech therapy”. It meant
15 minutes of OT once a week. I believe
that he had a small amount of individual speech at that time, but it wasn’t
very much. Although I really enjoyed his
therapists and was confident in their skill level, there was just not enough
time to allocate to what our son needed----certainly not meeting the criteria
of “intensive”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His teacher was a first year special needs
teacher. I was teaching her about our
son as I was learning him myself. She
was very good to work with, and I appreciated very, very greatly her
willingness to adapt to him, but I was a little taken aback by the fact that I
was trusting his, and truly my, education about autism to someone who had not
had a student like him before, and I was doing it in his formative preschool
years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Realizing that more therapeutic intervention was
needed, we turned to our medical insurance.
Our insurance would NOT provide speech therapy for the treatment of
autism. Insurance companies realize that
public schools pay for speech and OT, our pediatrician told us, and therefore
force it to be covered by the public school.
Praise be to God, and I mean that with all sincerity, He provided a
private speech therapist at a reasonable out-of-pocket cost that we endured for
3 years. OT was covered, and we were very
thankful to have an excellent OT. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now------I want you to image dropping off your
diabetic child at the public school and asking them to treat their erratic
blood sugar. You would never dream of
that, right? That is what countless
parents of children with autism are expected to do. We are to drop our children off and ask, beg,
plead, and cajole to receive the services we so desperately need from the very
entity that has to spend the money for them.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Think about it---do you have to go directly to your
insurance company to get your medical treatments? Of course not. You have a buffer in your primary care
physician. You usually get to pick your
PCP. And while your PCP is bound
somewhat by your insurance mandates, he can write and intervene on your behalf
and get things covered for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Parents have no buffer. If you are in a great district with great staff
and an awesome teacher and principal and lots of property taxes and/or federal
grant money, this is a bearable experience.
It may even be a good experience.
They may helpfully and cheerfully help to bear your load, and you may
have wonderful outcomes, and you may have extremely qualified clinicians. I hope this is your experience, whether you
are an educator or parent reading this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But if not?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If not, prepare to fight Goliath. You will battle for years. You will be told that his needs do not “interfere
with his educational progress”, and therefore aren’t covered in the IEP. You will become bitter, a Mama Grizzly Extraordinaire. You will fight and fight and cry and grieve
and fight and become angry and fight until you can’t fight anymore to get what
your child needs. You will be “that mom”, when you never ever wanted to be “that
mom”. You just want your child to get
the help they need and deserve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I was in multiple waiting rooms for multiple
therapies, I would hear conversations among parents regarding what the school
was providing for one child in one district, and what they weren’t in
another. It ran the gamut from equine therapy (higher
end tax base zip code) to no therapy (federal poverty level zip code). There
was very little consistency from district to district. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When we moved from Ohio to Oregon, I came to our
local district with papers measuring three inches thick that included
evaluations from professionals, test results, and a current IEP. Because we home school, the only service I
was seeking out was individual or group speech therapy, since his neurologist
recommended speech until age 15.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In spite of this evidence, my request was
denied. There would be no group speech,
even if I drove him to the appointment.
Even if I pay property taxes to my district. Even if I home school all my children, and
buy all my own curriculum, and give money to the school, but take none. Even
if the now-retired special education coordinator laughed at the notion that I expected our son to go to college.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oregon is one of only two states in the country
whose Medicaid programs do not cover autism therapies. They have received a special waiver from the
federal government that allows them to do so.
Obtaining information from the Kaiser Family Foundation, I was able to
determine that of the 920,000 children who reside in Oregon, a whopping 407,
899 receive Medicaid. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When at least 50% of the pediatric clientele lack
insurance coverage for therapeutic interventions, how many skilled pediatric
clinicians will set up shop and practice in Oregon?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How many of those children on Medicaid have
autism? How many don’t get necessary
therapies from their school districts?
How many of them have single parents that can’t pay for/find/drive to
therapy outside of the school for their children? How many make too much money to be covered
under MR/DD guidelines, but not enough to afford out of pocket clinicians?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And what clinicians would be used? In our small county I know of only two
practices that provide those therapies, and they don’t accept all insurance, or
are out of network. To find further
therapy is a 2 ½ hour drive one way for services. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The school district, then, is the gatekeeper. The federal government allocates a portion of
money to those students. Unfortunately,
the federal government hasn’t ever fully funded the program that they have made
law. As a result, many compassionate districts are simply unable to pay for the services that are truly needed to
give children with autism----who face a staggering 90% unemployment rate in
adulthood!------the services they need to obtain a modicum of
self-sufficiency. Overpopulated
classrooms, coupled with children who often teeter somewhere between being
mentally challenged while simultaneously brilliant, along with understaffing
and a lack of professional development and education among some of those
working with the autism population (please----I said “some”, not “all”) do not
yield optimal results for many children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In unscrupulous
districts, the money never makes it to some of these children. There is no safeguard in IDEA that specifies
that X dollars must go to Student X. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I signed the document waiving FAPE, I was doing
so to obtain the Ohio Autism Scholarship.
The Autism Scholarship is funded by the Ohio Department of
Education. It gives the control of the
money directly used by those students into a more equitable partnership of the
parent and the school district. My home
district was extremely supportive of the scholarship. My son received the intensive therapy he
needed in his formative years, and I believe that it has had a lasting impact
on him to this day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The other benefit to the scholarship is that because
of free enterprise, there are many, many qualified ABA and speech therapists,
counselors, OT’s, PT’s, and tutors (among other things) that have started in
Ohio. There is a steady stream of income to those providers, which allows for
excellent care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Is the scholarship perfect? No. Is there fraud? I am certain there is. The Bible states that “the love of money is
the root of all evil”, and there is certainly a lot of money involved in the
scholarship. Are the schools that have
popped up to provide an education to those with autism “good” schools? Maybe some are, and I am sure that some are
not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But what I do know is this: I, who know my son like the very back of my
hand, had more control of his therapy choices. I
didn’t have to plead with the gatekeeper. I
didn’t have to turn into “that mom”. All
the fighting I would have do to get what I needed, I could channel into helping
him become the best him that he could be. I am so very thankful to God for the
opportunity to live there in his formative years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So where are we now?
Well, now I literally have no IDEA.
I am a rogue homeschooler devoid of therapy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That was all in the plan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">See, in November of 2007, when my precious boy
changed overnight in my eyes because of a diagnosis, I did the only thing that
I knew to do:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I “lifted mine eyes up into the hills, from whence
comest my help; my help comes from the LORD, which made heaven and earth.”----Psalms 121:1. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I kneeled on the side of his little toddler bed made
with his sports bedspread, the sports that just two days before was sure he
would be the star of, and now didn’t know what he would ever be able to
do----and this mama prayed. I begged God
for two things: the best clinicians
possible, and wisdom in how to raise him.
After all, I had begged God to give him to me, and I had desired a child
to raise for His glory. And He provided
me a sweet, wonderful boy. God knows him
and loves him far better than I do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To that, God has been abundantly, unbelievably,
miraculously faithful. I can’t even
begin to tell you. He had the best therapists and he has the best neurologist.
At one point in time, three of his clinicians sat on the governor’s board for
autism. I didn’t pay a penny for all
that therapy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And now? When
I was denied by the school in 2014, I had to go to our insurance. And our
insurance, which I had been told covered autism services, denied us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had to compose myself on the phone. I hurried off, and collapsed on the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I felt God there, nudging me to release my son.
. . .to Him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had been hanging on, trusting in
therapists and interventions. Not
trusting GOD, that this was all part of His plan, and that the plan is way bigger
than my tiny point of view. With His
help, I did just that. I felt the
sweetest peace and relief wave over me.
It would all be OK.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So there is no speech. There is no OT. There is PT, and there is a customized
education (which includes speech curriculum) by a diligent mama who would give
her last breath for him. Even if she
dies doing fractions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But there is peace, knowing that I am free to do
what I need to do with minimal interference.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know the first thing about Betsy DeVos. But what I do know is this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some of us just want to be left alone, to do what
needs to be done. We aren’t asking for
you to do it for us. We want the freedom
of choice to do what is right for our children, for our unique circumstance
that doesn’t fit into your paradigm.
Please, let us keep our choice. I
know charter schools and programs aren’t always a good thing. Maybe they are mostly a bad thing, even. But what makes this country great is that we
have the freedom to do what is best for us and to do what we feel is right.
IDEA isn’t working for all of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is time to explore a new IDEA.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-25700986840285403322016-09-04T23:16:00.001-07:002016-09-04T23:17:48.386-07:00Why You Should Try Camping When You Have Kids, Even If You Haven't Done It Before<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Our family of six just returned from a short camping trip.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We stayed part of a day, two nights, and part
of another day in the great outdoors.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Why
bother with camping? Our family has
found that no matter how we try to simplify, downsize, and limit distractions,
unfortunately, we are still very distracted.
We have WIFI at home, cell phones, house projects in an ever-multiplying
abundance, and mail to read and bills to pay.
We have good distractions too, like work, homeschool, and my husband
pastors a church in addition to working at his secular job. It is really difficult for us in some seasons
to feel like we are “present and accounted for” for the better part of a day,
much less a week or months. Most things
that clamor for our attention are very important things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Several
areas of our life pay the cost for this; our children are one of those things. This
is especially true concerning quality time with Daddy, as I am with them the
vast majority of the time. But freeing
Daddy or me up to play and engage is sometimes difficult. We are worker-bees, my husband and I, and we
are trying to raise worker-bees. But
play is needful to express our love and appreciation for one another. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Camping
is a great time-out from regular life. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">However.
. . . .</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">When I
first started camping, I was very excited about campfires, starry skies, s’mores,
and hikes. But after my first time
camping with kids, I was beyond exhausted.
This didn’t seem fun AT ALL. This mama cooked, cleaned, and ate, and
then it was time to cook, clean and eat again.
Repeat. I decided that camping
was, to quote myself, “like taking the comforts of home, paring them down to
bare bones, and moving it all outside”.
I didn’t see the point. All I
wanted was Marriott.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">I made a
lot of camping mistakes early in the game, and I have learned some things:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep
it short and sweet: On your first
outing, just go overnight, or two. If
possible go on Monday-Thursday, as you will have a lot of the campground to
yourself.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep
it close: Don’t travel to Timbuktu to
camp. Stay somewhere close enough to
travel to in about an hour and a half, and try to go somewhere you haven’t done
much exploring already. We have found
that we prefer to camp in places that aren’t too far from the nearest
town. That way, should rain or boredom
strike, we are in a great position to explore and just get out and about with
no agenda.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep
it “crunchy”: You know how all those
books are coming out now about de-cluttering being the key to a happy life? Well, de-cluttering is THE KEY to a “happy
camper mom”. Leave your hair dryer,
straightener, curling iron, and most of your makeup at home. This is a time to be outdoors, and to be with
your kids. No one cares as much as you do.
If you can let down your “care”, you will have a much more enjoyable
time. You don’t need more than 2 pairs
of shoes, some clean underwear and socks, and a few shirts/pants per
person. Towels, check. In fact, if you keep your trip very short and
bathe everyone before you go and as soon as you get home (we may or may not
have done this), you may be able to avoid all things shower-related at the
campground. This is very, very awesome
when you have four kids to shower. You can’t
imagine how much time you waste in there.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep
it in a state park: If you are concerned
with economics, state and county parks are the best. Research the campgrounds on your state parks’
website. It usually lists the amenities
available. You may find one with a pool,
and usually there are trails and playgrounds, etc. Private campgrounds can be extremely
nice. But private campgrounds will
usually charge you a base fee, plus a fee if you go over a certain “people
limit”. We almost always exceed the base
“people limit”, and then the camping fee is in hotel range. If we are in hotel range. . . then we hotel.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Bring
the kids’ bikes: It sometimes looks like
it is a requirement to bike if you are a kid in a campground. If at all possible, bring your kids’ bikes. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Keep
it SIMPLE: All of it. When we first went, part of what exhausted me
was I was attempting to “play house” like my daughter might: every time someone went into our little
camper, I would resweeps/straighten up/put away, etc. I had a very rigid order and expected it to be
like home. Well, it isn’t home. It is a campground! It is dirt and sand and sticky marshmallows
and ash. And it is wonderful when you
don’t let all of that stress you to the max.</span></li>
</ol>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i>Tent vs.
Camper</i>:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">We have
a 1992 Toyota Winnebago. This rare gem
is a dinosaur with great (comparatively speaking) gas mileage. It sleeps 5 comfortably. ;) It has a fridge, a stove, a toilet, kitchen
sink, and bathroom sink. We don’t use
any of that except the fridge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Why? Because we don’t have time to dedicate days
upon days of camper preparation, that’s why.
The stove isn’t working, and we don’t want to pay the $300 for a new,
tiny camper stove. And we don’t need
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">We
always pay to stay at the “full hook up” spots.
That means you will have access to an electrical outlet on a pole, and a
water spigot at your spot. Usually there
is a picnic table and a fire ring also.
In a state park you will sometimes pay a little bit more for this
feature, but it is well worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">We plug
the RV into the electric hook up. We use
the water from the spigot when we need it.
And we go to the bathroom/shower in the one at the campground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">If you
only had a tent, I would highly recommend the full hook-up spot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i>Organization:</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Here are
some simple ways to organize your trip to make it run smoothly:</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> Well before you set out to camp, begin picking
up small things that you might need for a trip.
I have a small coffee pot from my mom, and a George Foreman grill and
toaster oven from the Goodwill for a total cost of about $10. Get a Rubbermaid tote and put all of your
camping appliances in it. Add to it some
aluminum foil, gallon size Ziploc bags, paper plates, cups, and plastic
dinnerware, some paper towels, a small jar of dish detergent, hand sanitizer, can
opener, extension cord, hand soap to set by the water spigot, salt and pepper,
a dish towel and a dish rag, two pot holders, a vinyl tablecloth, and a plastic
mixing bowl. Most of this can be
purchased at the Dollar Tree. You now
have a portable kitchen!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">You
might also gather a Rubbermaid tote and fill it with bedding for your
trip. If you are tent camping you will
want to sleep on an air mattress, even if you have an awesome sleeping
bag. You can find sleeping bags at the
Goodwill too, very cheap. They can be
washed and dried at home prior to your trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Get
one more tote ready for “incidentals”:
flashlights, duct tape (trust me), small first aid kit, bug spray, sunscreen,
matches, fire starter, etc. You will
also want chairs for around the fire, but if you don’t have room you can just
use the picnic table provided. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">I
bring some of my own things from home, namely:
cast iron skillet/dutch oven, electric skillet, sometimes a crock pot,
spatula, 2 small kitchen knives, a slotted stirring spoon, tongs, and an old
fashioned black roaster pan for doing dishes in. I usually throw this in a laundry
basket. When I get home I return all
this to my kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Put
a laminated checklist of each tote’s contents in each tote, and bring a dry
erase marker. Makes packing it back up a
breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">You
will need a decent sized cooler, or better still, borrow one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i>Food:</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">This was
the biggest hurdle to my early camping experiences. I had NO IDEA what to make! I knew that we
would go camping, and inevitably there would be That Guy who is over there,
roasting a leg of lamb over his fire on a solar-powered spit he whittled out of Popsicle sticks, and we were over
here with a hot dog. Or there were the Cabela camping divas, with their fancy-pants Coleman stove ($$), Coleman
lanterns (cha-ching!), and Yeti coolers (we’re talking lotto winnings here, people). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">I didn’t
want the cost of camping to rival an Alaskan cruise. Nor did I want to eat Bar-S hot dogs for a
week. What was a mom to do?!?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Remember
the end goal? “Focus on my own family. And
focus on Mom being a Happy Camper.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">I
started to tap into my inner “MomGyver” (if you don’t know who MacGyver is, I
question if you are old enough to have your own kids, whipper-snapper) and
thought outside the camper. I thought
about what I would do at home if my stove and microwave went out. And I thought of my electric skillet and
crock pot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Here is
a list of what I do for food:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> Prep, prep, prep: Chop your veggies at
home. Save in ziplock bags with a paper
towel thrown in to curb “wetness” (ewwwww) that ends the life of your lettuce,
etc. Cook meat beforehand in the oven
and bring in ziplock bags. Less fear of
food poisoning that way, and less work for you on the trip. Bring lots of bagged snacks, or pick them up
at a store closer to the campground.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Breakfast: We eat big camping breakfasts. I make pop-from-the-can cinnamon rolls in the
toaster oven. I make pancakes using
Bisquick’s “Shake and Pour” mix, so that I can avoid using a bowl or
spoon. I can fill it with a different,
cheaper pancake mix to make more. I can
also use it to scramble eggs. I can cook
those in the cast iron pan ON TOP of my electric skillet! For bacon or sausage, I bake ALL of it at
home before the trip, put it in Ziplock bags, and freeze it fully cooked. It is very easy to throw that in the oven
some night before hand while I am in the kitchen anyway. Then I just re-heat it on the skillet. I use butter as my primary cooking oil
because it travels solidly (nyuk nyuk nyuk!).
Sometimes we pick up donuts on the way out of town for breakfast.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Lunch: My lunches are portable, in the event that we
want to venture off to swim, hike, or go into town. I usually do peanut butter and jelly, chips
(I buy those bags that have lots of types of chips in them), and fruit and
carrots. That way we can go if the mood
strikes us.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Supper: If you have a cast-iron skillet, you can cook
on the grate provided (usually, but not always) on your fire pit should you
feel adventurous. I like to use fully
cooked meats. I am not trying to food poison my whole family. So we save, mainly for camping, kielbasa as a
treat! We make kielbasa sandwiches, and
fry potatoes in the skillet. My family
loves it. We have also done: </span></li>
<ol><ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Tacos/burritos/rice: make meat ahead, cut up veggies ahead, cook and freeze rice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Soup: I have used my crock pot for this when we have played all day.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Flatbread pizzas: make pizzas, heat up in toaster oven.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Always have s’more supplies for dessert! Or store bought cookie dough for the toaster oven. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNc9maJ8cr7mNSwaWuIBvCy6X7cqi3S40iS7q4-u9gpdObclStrfy67BVQV7RZM-LTXoPwdKz_32ySY987e3n7Xy0pqPsD8-nEm0qb6K-s79EXc0dcvX_Zk6gic6CSpqG_JPttHYIlvmD1/s1600/DSC_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNc9maJ8cr7mNSwaWuIBvCy6X7cqi3S40iS7q4-u9gpdObclStrfy67BVQV7RZM-LTXoPwdKz_32ySY987e3n7Xy0pqPsD8-nEm0qb6K-s79EXc0dcvX_Zk6gic6CSpqG_JPttHYIlvmD1/s320/DSC_0324.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pancakes and the beginnings of a "pizza breakfast skillet". This is inside our little RV.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKYIq1k2z2tFPDyIXq20PLrgRkso_cQK-rrthUeJL4kyq2mM2ZBXUGTfOhxM9ITiRos27Cx8jSN5lAcb8W6L2V9DVJWLjCmLrz7CvENP7lHy2FZlX-9bLk6C2ZHmR9RqaFjIxPo3K782e/s1600/DSC_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKYIq1k2z2tFPDyIXq20PLrgRkso_cQK-rrthUeJL4kyq2mM2ZBXUGTfOhxM9ITiRos27Cx8jSN5lAcb8W6L2V9DVJWLjCmLrz7CvENP7lHy2FZlX-9bLk6C2ZHmR9RqaFjIxPo3K782e/s320/DSC_0259.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinnamon roll bacon face breakfast. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></li>
</ol>
</ol>
</ol>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Above
all, don’t sweat it. Have fun with your
kids and that is what they will remember:
the time that Mom caught a “rock fish” (on my pole! I felt like Charlie Brown at Halloween!),
when Dad rode our son’s small bike, etc.
That is what this is: a time to
recharge. EVEN for Mom. She needs it too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">What
have you done to make your camping trips more enjoyable?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i>P.S. If you have firewood restrictions in your
area, you will probably have to buy it where you are camping. </i><br />
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<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-76185218317018694742016-07-28T00:04:00.001-07:002016-07-28T00:15:59.798-07:00Lessons from Elijah<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today the kids and I learned about the prophet Elijah. Elijah was a tough as nails prophet sent to talk to King Ahab. King Ahab, bad as he was, wasn't the worst----that title was earned by his wife, Jezebel.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jezebel hated God, and as a result, hated all representation of God. I imagine her as a vindictive, spiteful, awful woman who was convicted over her sins and not only refused to repent, but wished to strike every memory of God from her person so that she would not be reminded of her sin. She was not submissive; she led with an iron fist. She wanted her way.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elijah told Ahab that Israel would have no rain until he said so. And with that, the voice of the Lord led Elijah to a little brook that had not yet dried up so that he might drink, and fed him. . .</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">from ravens.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yep. He received, from the ravens, bread and meat two times a day. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think about this: why a raven?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well. . . .a raven could fly to somewhere far away to GET meat and bread. According to Wikipedia, a raven is a survivor because<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;">they are extremely versatile and o</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opportunism#Biological_opportunism" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0b0080; line-height: 22.4px; text-decoration: none;" title="Opportunism">p</a>portunistic<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;"> in finding sources of nutrition, feeding on </span>carrion<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;">, insects, cereal grains, berries, fruit, small animals, and food waste." They are highly intelligent birds, able to problem solve and avoid capture. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;">God used ravens because they were perfect, just the way He had already created them. They obeyed His command and never, ever wavered in their duty.</span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;">This election is really a pretty awful time. It can cause a lot of worry and fear about the future for people who belong to Jesus. We worry about our Christian liberties being taken away, about the laws changing into a form of legal persecution somewhere not too far down the road, about our American rights being stripped from us. We can get angry or upset about it to the point that it causes us to sin with anger or hate, or other things I am guilty of too. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">But what I saw today in my study was that, here is Elijah, simply following God in a time of terrible persecution, upheaval, and Israel not looking a thing at all like God's people in the way they were being led and in what they were doing, and in the midst of great turmoil and grief and sorrow. . . </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">Elijah was fed by ravens.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">Can you just imagine? Imagine the starvation all around-----remember Katrina? Remember how desperate people acted in a time of great calamity? And yet God led Elijah to a quiet place of rest, and FED HIM BY RAVENS! </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">Sometimes God has to get us in a hard spot so we can see the miracles that He does for us every day. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">If our country is headed for a hard spot, and you are a child of the Most High, be prepared.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">Not to store boxes of ammo, not to boil water, not to get your Canadian passport ready. . . .</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> </span></span><br /><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><span style="color: #252525;">But be ready, by putting on your whole armor. . . .and simply </span><span style="color: red;"><i><u>follow God</u></i></span><span style="color: #252525;"><i><u>.</u></i> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> </span></span><br /><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">And no doubt, He will make a miraculous provision for you. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span><i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">Psalms 37:25 "</span><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread."</span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><br />May you have a blessed day,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.4px;">Sandra</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-7344210516582577212016-05-08T01:13:00.000-07:002016-05-08T01:13:55.412-07:00Dear Mom,This year I sent you a card that said, "when I thank God for my blessings, I thank Him for You."<br />
<br />
This is very true. There have been many times when I have humbly thanked Him for loaning me to YOU specifically, as it has made me who I am today. Today, I am mothering my own brood. Because of your lasting impact on me, I realize (sometimes stifling under the overwhelming sense of it all), the lasting impact I will have on my own children----good or bad.<br />
<br />
From you, I learned the importance of the presence of a "soft mom". You were never a flashy, sensational, red-lipstick-and-short-skirt mom. I never felt that I had to compete with you, because you were Mom and stayed there. You didn't try to become my friend or my peer. And you didn't expect me to be yours, either. You were Mom and I was a child. You were also an employee, a daughter, a sister. But those worlds didn't collide with mine too much, because you didn't make it about "you". I never felt like you were burdened by me or my needs. You were just there. You smelled good, you had a soft voice, kind hands, and gentle nature, even when we called you every single afternoon at Evenflo Products to see what time you would be home, knowing you would be home at the same time every day. When I am tempted, so very often, to make my mothering journey about "ME". . . I remember you. I remember that, although I am sure now you experienced fatigue and burnout beyond measure, I didn't hear that from you. For that, I thank you.<br />
<br />
From you, I learned to find joy in simplicity. We loved, and still do, the thrill of a great thrift-store bargain. We both enjoy old recipes, dark chocolate, ice cream eaten in the car, nature, taking a walk, standing back and looking at something we just weeded, cleaned, or organized. We appreciate anything that can keep our hair out of our face, and clothes that don't need to be ironed. We both scoff at the notion of being a millionaire and how we just still would not be able to bring ourselves to buy things at full-price. We are generic groceries, generic children's vitamins, re-purposers, and dare I admit. . . washers of disposable cups and good "quality" plastic silver ware, which I swore ad nauseam I would never, ever do. We are both Mom-Gyver, able to fix broken toys or toilet flappers with dental floss and a paper clip. When I am tempted to grow discontented with my ever-so familiar surroundings of ancient linoleum and nude wallpaper, I think of you. I think of how you grew up without the benefit of indoor plumbing or generous portions, and were able to find fun in working for all that you had. I think of how you don't have a great need for new house-things, and how we lived in a tiny duplex with shag carpet covered with toys. For that example, I am thankful. God knew I would be in a spot where I would have to learn contentment, and I believe He used you to help cultivate that in me.<br />
<br />
From you, I learned to find the weak and the wounded, and give them extra care. I learned to spot out the old folks and hold doors, carry groceries to the car, and make small talk. I learned to show special attention to the kids whose faces and clothes are the dirtiest. I learned to be gracious to the awkward, and that the greatest humiliation was not for those caught being in the company of "undesirable" folks, but for those who treat the less fortunate with cruelty or indifference. I learned to use cooking and baking as a means of showing comfort or care to neighbors. I watched you care for your mother with a special, thoughtful attentiveness. I watched you care for your less-than gracious mother-in-law with infinite patience. For this, I am thankful. When I grow weary of those who need me so, I think of your example. I think of how I can Just. Do. It. and do it without grumbling or complaining or worrying about what I "deserve". <br />
<br />
From you, I learned that it is OK to be embarrassingly silly if it will evoke laughter from a child. Whether it was playing "Lady of Spain" on the accordion window fan, or telling super fast bedtime stories so we would finally GO TO SLEEP, I learned that Mom was fun. I learned that puns are fantastic and that witty, sarcastic humor and a sense of rhyme can bring levity to nearly any situation, even when it involves cremated remains. For this, I am thankful. I am sort of the kid Pied piper, much like yourself, and when I do anything silly like you our kids always say, "you sound just like Nani."<br />
<br />
So Mom, thank you. Thank you for setting yourself aside for the betterment of me. Thank you for teaching. . . by doing. I love you and hope that you have a wonderful day, and I truly desire all of God's richest blessings for you!<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Sandra<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-65308624203932514732016-03-09T00:32:00.000-08:002016-03-09T00:32:03.074-08:00Judge not<div class="MsoNormal">
Eggshells.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were all on eggshells this morning. Three of my children woke up on the wrong
side of the continent and were doing their due diligence to disrupt the
peaceful morning that I was determined to have.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is becoming an all-too-familiar scene: out of diapers,
out of potty training, and out of biting, I have entered, “bickering”. Bickering, backbiting, and selfishness. There are days that I feel like I could trade
my blouse for a black and white striped shirt and blow a whistle all day long,
calling foul after foul and assessing penalty after penalty. I grow oh-so-weary of it. I am sometimes weary of it before I even get
out of bed! The inmates are attempting a
hostile takeover of the asylum, and I wrongfully at times feel powerless. I reach for the referee outfit in reactionary
posture, and forget that I am really the coach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today it was a Pharisee-fest. I had four little Pharisees, tooting their own
horns, calling out law violators, no one listening, not one sign of honest
repentance in sight. Any schedule
progress had ceased. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t just have Pharisees. I had judges.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we sat down to morning Bible story. I am again, grateful and humble, and thankful
that God meets me in the chaos. He meets
in real time, when I need Him, and when my kids need Him. When I first
started doing Bible time with my kids, I believe that I was the one
reaping the most benefit. And while that
feeling still holds true, I now can see that He is giving my children exactly
what they need, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although I wanted to pounce all over Philippians 4:8 because
I had heard one too many “jerk!”’s and “it’s not fair!”s, and did talk about
that with them later, the Spirit was gently nudging me over to Matthew, to the
words of Jesus. To “judge not”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Judge not, that ye be
not judged. <b><sup> </sup></b>For
with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete,
it shall be measured to you again. <b><sup> </sup></b>And
why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not
the beam that is in thine own eye? <b><sup> </sup></b>Or
how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye;
and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then
shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.”--------Matthew
7:1-5<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had the opportunity to serve on jury duty in December of
this past year. A juror is able to hear
all of the evidence. She is educated in
the requirements of the law, and the stipulations under which she can decide
innocence or guilt. As a collective group, the jurors reach a verdict. They are
expected to do so and are charged with deciding honestly and justly. But
the execution of punishment is up to the judge.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? Well, the judge
has also heard all of the evidence.
There are additional facts in a case and facts about a defendant that
judges have and jurors are not privy to. But probably most importantly, the
judge is the expert in the law and what it requires as a penalty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can see behaviors in our world, and when supported by
evidence and by knowledge of God’s commandments, can render a verdict. But I am not the one to issue the
penalty. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God is a perfect judge.
He has intimate knowledge of each of us which we don’t have of
ourselves. He knows our motives, our
weaknesses, our hurts and fears, our desires.
He knows where we have been, where we are, and where we are going. He has a perfect, all-encompassing viewpoint
of the circumstances of each and every person who has ever, or will, live. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a log in my own eye, my vision is distorted. When I want to be the judge of my Christian
brothers and sisters, I want to elevate myself to be like God. Not only can I not see them fully or me
fully, I have a huge log in my own eye: pride.
As long as that pride remains, I will never see clearly. I will operate out of a distorted view of
others, and will accomplish absolutely nothing for the Lord. I will be as a “clanging brass or cymbal”,
offensive to all and blind to my own hypocrisy.
I will not sow, and therefore will not reap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when I judge the world-----not being a juror, but being a JUDGE------and
executing the punishment of not sharing
the gospel because I feel like I have
been offended by their actions toward me, or just by their sin in general------how
can I possibly be keeping His commandments?
“If ye love me,” He said, “keep my commandments.” How can we follow the Great Commission as a
judge?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No------we must follow it as a servant. After all, we aren’t the ones who are being
offended. God is, and He is the one who
wants us to go unto the broken and the sin-sick and share His love. (I realize that Paul said that the saints
shall judge the world, and shall judge angels, in 1 Corinthians 6. But that “shall” tells us it is for a future time.) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When my children judge one another by using cross words or
other acts of retaliation, do you know who gets judged? They do.
They are judged and punished for
their retaliatory deeds. If they would
worry about correcting their own character flaws, they would be happier, more
humble, more grateful, and we would have a more peaceful, joyful day. They would accomplish so much more by
working together! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sisters, what would our churches look like if they were
filled with servants of one another, instead of a Supreme Court? How much love could we pour out onto this dying,
desperate, hurting, sinful world? How
much more Jesus would they see?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would love to tell you that the bickering ceased. It did for a time, most of the day in fact. We had an opportunity to confess the logs in
our own eyes, myself included. We went
around the table and complimented one another, some begrudgingly, others
willfully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes as a mama I have to remind myself that I am mainly
a servant, and not a judge all of the time.
I can judge my children’s behavior, and I am expected to and to act
accordingly. But the heart matters are
left up to the Lord. I inform, I train, and
I pray for, but the work in their hearts is God’s work to do. I have to trust that the wisdom they get from
me, that I get from Him, will be like my Brussels sprout seeds-----buried deep,
with all the right elements in place, but waiting on a whisper from Him to get
moving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love to you all-----<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-18375140251059405772016-03-08T00:02:00.000-08:002016-03-08T00:04:40.321-08:00Book Review: "And It Was Beautiful"<div class="MsoNormal">
I received a copy of
the book, <u>And It Was Beautiful</u>, by Kara Tippetts, in exchange for an
unbiased review.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u>And It Was Beautiful</u> tells the story of the end of the life of Kara
Tippetts, a 39-year-old pastor’s wife whose life was cut short by metastatic
breast cancer. The mother of four young
children and friend to many valiantly battled breast cancer using conventional
therapies in an attempt to live as long as she could. This book chronicles much of that journey, as
it is a compilation of her well-read blog, “Mundane Faithfulness”. Although the story is a tragic one, it is not
the tragedy that makes the story. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kara was a beautiful person.
I feel as though she and I would have been wonderful friends, and I am
sure that I am not the only person who didn’t meet her in this life that holds
that opinion. You see, this story is one
of triumph. Not triumph over cancer, and
not triumph over circumstances. But
triumph over SELF. Kara truly did see
the grace that God provided to her at every single twist and turn in her
story. And she so very often chose faith
over fear. She chose His goodness over
her desires, and His plans over her time frame.
Her writings are a modern-day primer on suffering. Kara's writing style is informal and
conversational, while simultaneously holding much depth. This book would make a great devotional-type read, particularly for those who are in the midst of suffering. It is a humbling reality-check to our selfish natures. It truly would be good for those who ask that
age-old question, “But where is God in my suffering?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading this book is a precise and particular reminder that
He is right there, with outstretched arms of love, all of the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://litfusegroup.com/author/ktippetts">http://litfusegroup.com/author/ktippetts</a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-36407076940564216182016-01-10T23:07:00.001-08:002016-01-10T23:13:54.308-08:00Come Unto Me<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.---Matthew 11:28</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am coming, ever so slowly, out of a "Martha Season".</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Each December I enter one. I work and I bake and I clean and I shop and I wrap and I perfect all the details I possibly can and I don't want any<i>one ANYWHERE to feel left out so I do for them too and I agonize over spending money and meeting USPS shipping deadlines and neglecting my husband and then I get grouchy and my life spins out of my control and and and and. . . ..</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nearly 20 years of marriage. Nearly 20 Christmases together. Out of those, I have not Martha'd only one Christmas, when I had just rolled out of an RV the month prior nearly 3000 miles away from the only life I ever knew, and had to buy ornaments at the Goodwill. I don't remember what I bought or did for the holiday that year. I just know that I wasn't exhausted or grouchy. <i> </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">The exhaustion and grouchiness are not the worst part of the Martha season. No, not even the strained relationships which I have to mend (husband), that's not the worst part. The worst part is neglecting and straining my relationship with Jesus. . . </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;">. . . .who I am supposed to be celebrating. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;">Then, when the hustle and bustle is over and it is quiet, and yet I am still exhausted and even more grouchy, I slowly come to my senses and realize that, in giving away to everyone else, I have lost something.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;">My joy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Oh, there were red flags. Warnings unheeded. Up too late, no time made to really, seriously pray, physical exhaustion, falling back on unhealthy coping mechanisms, tongue a little too loose, getting all fired up by social and political issues, waking up annoyed at the tasks that lay ahead of me that day, snapping at my children, wrestling the leadership away from the hubby.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">The Great Physician has a course of treatment for this.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">"Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">"Draw nigh unto him, and he will draw nigh unto you."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">"They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">There are times in this life where I know what to do. I have had to do it a lot. I have done this Martha-ing a lot. I have always and forever struggled with being a doer on my own terms. Isn't that what our sister struggled with? She was trying, bless her heart, to serve the Lord. Her way. On her strength.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">But even though I know what I need to do, I need God to help me do it. So I asked Him to help humble me. Soon it came----the feelings of lowness, sadness even, mourning my loss of fellowship with the Lord, needing to ask forgiveness for straying away, a burden that needed relief. And so it was I found myself, finally, in my prayer spot, seeking His face. Starting awkwardly, but starting, and just asking Him to give me what I needed, because I don't even know what I need, beyond the fact that I KNOW THAT HE HAS IT.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">And oh sisters. . . .it came. Boy did it come! Just love. . .washed over me in an overwhelming, all encompassing, all satisfying, never thirsting again fashion, leaving me crying out for more mercy, and Him loving me more, and me praising and thanking, and Him loving, and </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">WOW that is AWESOME! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Oh my goodness----there is nothing more we need in this life! Nothing! The next day I awoke, still struggling a bit until I prayed. There I could honestly thank Him for the day ahead and feel that thanksgiving in my soul, thank Him for the job of motherhood and my children, pray sincerely for my husband's day, pray with a heartbreaking love for the brothers and sisters in my church, and for many of you good sisters reading this right now. I have already seen the fruits of some of these prayers.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">I could ask Him for a job to do, a person's life I could touch through Him, for the lost, for a fiery conviction of unrest and brokenness to rain down on those I love who need Him. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Oh sister, do you need rest? Do you need to know that "</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms"? </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">His work for us is that we trust and obey. Trust Him----with our time, our commitments, our schedules, our budgets, by making our alone time with Him a priority-----and obey His word, in study, in prayer. . . </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">In repentance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">In behavior changes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">In thanksgiving and praise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">In the specific job that He gives us. Not the ones we think He has given us, or the ones we think we need to do for Him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">In digging deeper in His word in study, and allowing the Spirit to reveal more of His beauty to us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?"---Jeremiah 8:22</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sister, He is the best father we could ever ask for. He loves you and desires your fellowship.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You are loved, and your prayers for me are appreciated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Sandra :)</span></span></div>
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Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-85625521263827775742015-08-26T23:44:00.000-07:002015-08-27T00:10:40.221-07:00Homeschool EvolutionHello friends. I feel like I need to take a moment and update you on our home school journey.<br />
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<i>P.S. We are very normal people with very normal sins of pride, selfishness, and lack of patience, to just give you the tip of the iceberg. This blog is so <b><u>not</u></b> about "look at my awesome kids". No no no no no no no. NO. This blog is so <u><b>not</b></u> about "I home school and you don't, nanny nanny boo boo." No no NO NO NO! THIS BLOG is about "THANK YOU JESUS"!!! To Him be ALL honor and glory and praise. It his only by HIM that any of my life is possible. And by Him you can home school or continue to home school. Thanks!</i><br />
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I began home schooling in 2009 when my oldest began kindergarten. Prior to this he attended a public preschool for special needs children. I have many, many reasons for home schooling but suffice it to say, the main reason I still continue to home school is because I feel that it is my God-given responsibility to do so. Truly. I began inquiring of the Lord as to what I needed to do for my children, and home schooling was the answer. I don't believe home schooling is what God would require everyone to do. But I do very strongly feel that if more people diligently searched out what God would have them to do, and were willing, there would be more people who do it. I think it is something that is just sort of a "given"----that our country has free education, and we pay taxes, and there is a yellow bus that goes by the house, so we send our kids to school. I think that as a parent, one must be heavily involved in their child's education, whether or not that is at home or at school. I do think that it is an avenue worth exploring by foot while praying, not just by bus.<br />
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I want to thank God Almighty for His gift of wisdom, for His grace, and His longsuffering and gentle patience with me in home schooling. Home schooling has brought me to the very end of myself. I will at times throw myself on my "prayer couch" in the living room and complain like a child told to clean their room, and yet He is there to encourage and to enlighten over and over and over again, never wearying or faltering in His devotion to me. When I mention that I home school I inevitably hear, "I don't have the patience to do that", or "other kids listen to me, but mine won't". I try to explain as much as possible that I don't have patience either, and that my children are often too familiar with me to hold their steadfast attention. But home schooling is the very vehicle that God has used to <i>cultivate patience in me. </i>Just like stretching tight hamstrings, my being persistent while methodically being patient toward my children in an attempt to foster learning has made me much more "flexible" in dealing with them. I feel that my children have a level of respect for me <i>because</i> I am their teacher and because I insist upon their best, not in spite of it. It is helping them stretch a bit too: their self will is to push against, but when they <u><b>voluntarily</b></u> submit to a loving, patient mama that is <b><u>TRULY</u></b> only able to be such by the grace of God (and I am not ever that enough), they are learning humility and respect for authority, even in the familiar comforts of home. That is golden. That is GOD at work, friends.<br />
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I want this to be a hope and encouragement to those of you beginning home schooling with little ones. I can remember the year my youngest was born. I was high-risk pregnant, home schooling a 5 year old on the autism spectrum, a 4 year old who resisted my every request, and a two year old who was being potty trained and trying to write on so many vertical places in our home. My husband was pastoring and working 50-60 hours a week at his secular job. The next year my baby would be awake more and crawling, the two year old was in the terrible threes, and the 5 and 6 year old were learning basic skills that required much one-on-one time. I will spare you any more gory details of those years.<br />
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From November to June of last year I lived in 3 residences, the biggest move being from Ohio to Oregon. I also had a 3 year old who was still very much 3 years old in all things attention span. It has been hard, but soooooo good!<br />
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Just this year, I am starting to see the fruits of my labor, which belong to my Jesus who made it all possible. My big boys are much more "in charge" of their learning. I love to teach. I am a teacher at heart and in every single professional position I have ever held, I was a teacher in some capacity. Often an unconventional one at that, teaching mostly adults or children who had many obstacles to overcome. So I still get to teach history and science, and work one on one with each one on particular subjects. But I can hand them a planner with the following on it: Exercise, chores, Bible reading, science, grammar, math, spelling, independent reading and writing (and all of these have specific assignments or reading, or both)-------and they will just DO IT. They are learning to be independent learners, and that they are heavily involved in their own education process. They are learning work before play, and play has taken on a new definition for them; less electronics, and way more playing together, or leisurely reading.<br />
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My reluctant daughter, who is a very hard worker when she has a job to do but detests seat work, is reaping her accomplishments and her attitude toward the whole process is shifting. My littlest guy is very engaged this year, seeming to mature leaps and bounds over just 3 months ago.<br />
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In short, I am seeing this work, this struggle, this laying down of myself and my former lifestyle----I am seeing it WORK. Because it WORKS! I already knew how it was working in me, when I let it. It was eroding my will, revealing my weaknesses, forcing me to go to the Lord for help, requiring that I dig in and do the hard stuff, helping me lay aside wants and desires that aren't important. Oh I have so very, very far to go! But I have come along more than I did before.<br />
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But I didn't really "see" where it was helping and shaping and changing my kids. . . until NOW. I could see glimmers and glimpses here and there, but now I can SEE. My boys are growing up, taking on their own responsibilities, and are learning self-sufficiency. They are seeing the differences in themselves and those around them, and how what Jason and I are so feebly trying to teach them----to trust God and His ways and what that actually looks like in the day to day---------works and is true. When my daughter comes along side me in the kitchen and cleans up after lunch and helps get supper going and does dishes with me, she looks at me differently. She values what I do and wants to do it herself. I am not a maid taking care of the place, and my husband is not a wallet that makes toy store dreams come true, but we are overseers training kids to "do" adulthood. Wow. There is no place I would rather be.<br />
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He gives us spiritual blessings and when we have those we forget about this tempting world around us. When we hone in on those blessings, the spiritual implications in our work as keepers at home, and trainers of children. . . there is a deep satisfaction. He said the virtuous woman should be given the fruit of her hands. I certainly don't feel like I am that woman, but I long to be. How wonderful to begin to see the fruit that I hope to lay at His feet!<br />
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I leave you with this, friends: "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." Galatians 6:9. Faint not, mamas. When it gets hard and ugly, cry out to Jesus. He is an ever present help in times of trouble, and His light will shine on the problems and He WILL give you answers on how to help your kids, your husband, yourself. Your very crying out to Him is teaching your kids that "when I get in trouble I go to mama, but when mama gets in trouble she goes to Jesus."<br />
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You are loved------<br />
Sandra Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-30291693731868403272015-04-30T00:42:00.000-07:002015-04-30T00:42:12.796-07:00Running with PatienceYesterday was not a good day in home school.<br />
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But even on not good days, at least one person learns something. That person is usually ME.<br />
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Something I truly hope that you all realize about me is that, most often, when I blog it is in response to an admonishment I have received. It is sort of a letter to myself. For you, it is like looking into my house at night----shades open, lights on, seeing me in my private thoughts. I have never wanted to be one of those mommy bloggers who have it all figured out, or have it all together, because that could not be further from the truth about me. I have wanted, deeply, to be an encourager. And I suppose to be an encourager, you must be a person who has needed encouragement, because of mistakes or circumstances or both. <br />
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I write because I was created that way. Writing helps me process out the very deep feelings I have on things, things that for some reason can't stay "in there" for me. Maybe they can for you, but they can't for me. I have found that when I try to keep feelings in I pay consequences physically. And as to why they come out better on a keyboard I have no idea at all. But they do.</div>
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As most of you know, I have been a home schooling parent for nearly 5 years now. I have four children, and we are in the "even years": 4, 6, 8, and 10. My oldest son has special needs, my other son is probably gifted, and two of my other children appear to be "normal", whatever that is. This dynamic makes for an interesting home school experience: one child barely treads water, and the next one is diving. Two others are in the wading pool. And I am at the pool by myself, or so it seems, trying to help all of them learn to swim at the same time. The pool is loud, and the water is too cold some days, someone is almost always splashing water on me, or someone has to pee. But for 5 years now, I have tried to teach "swimming". I have hung in there, I have sacrificed, I have worked hard. After all, I couldn't love my students more fiercely than I do. The drive to succeed is high. If I succeed, we ALL succeed. And if I fail. . . . </div>
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Today I realized that I have failed at running with patience.</div>
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We are working on math with our oldest two at just about the same level. I cannot tell you how difficult it can be to try to reach, or teach, a child with autism. Even a very high functioning, obedient, sweet, wonderful child with autism. It is so difficult. It is like speaking English to someone who learned English as a second language----at 84. I find myself constantly attempting to crawl inside that beautiful head of his, trying to squint through his eyes and see the subject like he does. It is teaching and interpreting at the same time. And it is exhausting. Not just math, either. But every single subject is afflicted by large pockets of missing information---information I have presented over and over----and yet there are pockets with rich, amazing, staggering knowledge. Knowledge that I have no earthly idea of how it got there. I told my husband that it is like "fracking"----digging down way deep to pockets of valuable material. If I could only figure out how to get it to come to the surface!</div>
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When I realized that our son was on the autism spectrum, I knew I would have to fight. I would fight schools, physicians, therapists, insurance companies, government programs, etc. Oh, the fighting! I would fight to do the right thing by him, in spite of the "hard". I would fight over temper tantrums and meltdowns at the store and bad behavior and I was determined to win. I don't like to fight. But there is a fight in me, a fire, to fight for this child, and I know God gave it to me. I know that He made him for a reason, a purpose, and even if I never get to see that fully come to fruition, it still won't matter because He knows why. </div>
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I didn't realize I would have to fight me.</div>
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The Hebrew writer said in Hebrews 12:1 that </div>
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<i><span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">Wherefore seeing we also
are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside
every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run
with patience the race that is set before us,</span></i></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">The race of my life---being a wife, mother, teacher, church member---- has been set before me<i> </i>by my Savior who has numbered my days, who knows the exact mileage and terrain of the course. When the running-----my life----gets hard, it is a red flag that I am not running right. All of the ways of not running right are in this verse. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">I ran cross country in high school and for one season in college. And oh how much better I can understand a running analogy because of that. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">God tells us in this passage that to run successfully, we need to</span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><u><i><b>Lay aside every weight:</b></i></u> We need to regularly take our burdens, our heart weights, to the Lord. That means prayer----real, true prayer, where I know He heard me because He met me there, and fellowshipped with me, and blessed me with His presence, so that I might have His sweet peace. For me, this can come quickly should God bless me that way, and sometimes I have to make an effort at prayer over a period of time before He meets with me. Either way, it is my responsibility to make true prayer time a priority. We also need to drop off priorities that slow us down in our race.</span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><i><u><b>And the sin which doth so easily beset us</b></u></i>: We have a choice, sisters, to stay in our sin---those things that God shows us we need to refrain from----or to sever it from our lives. Your sin could be anger, a sharp tongue, covetousness, laziness, or any number of works of the flesh, but in order to run, we must drop these things. It was a lot easier to run years ago when I maintained good habits on a daily basis. Now it would be more difficult, as my diet and daily activity do not equate to the physique of a runner. To be successful I would have to make some practical changes. Well, to be successful in our race, we must make practical changes in the way we live. I find so often that once I pray about these sins in my flesh, the Lord will make me more aware of them just before I am about to do something I shouldn't so that I might "nip them in the bud". He helps me to see what I am about to do, so that I don't.</span><i><span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><u><b>And let us run with patience:</b></u> </span></i><span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">In cross country I got the privilege to run some beautiful courses. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">There were
times as an adult I would get to visit and hike a course that we ran,
and I was always amazed at the beauty there that I couldn't see when I
was huffing and puffing and nearly weeping, dragging myself up the
hill. I thought of what made those courses so hard back then in my
early days of running. It was my emotional response.</span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">When
I finally had some practice with hard courses under my belt, enough to
realize that it was only a short 20 minutes or so to rest, I stopped
freaking out so much during the course. When I saw a hill, I did the
best I could. I took one piece of the hill at a time---sometimes just
concentrating on one step at a time----until I could get to the top.
Because once I reached the top, I could usually coast down hill,
swiftly, nearly effortlessly, and have the opportunity to look about and
enjoy the scenery. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">Oh sisters, how I fail at this! So often I run my race in a panic, not able to see past this moment. I get overwhelmed by the task before me. And what happens when that happens? A painful fact to admit. The scenery isn't so beautiful. In fact, it becomes an adversity to me, almost an enemy. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">My very blessings. . . I start to see as hardships. Rather than the hill being an accomplishment to celebrate, it becomes a mountain I want to avoid. And on my last math day, I was tempted to avoid that mountain. To just travel around it----maybe he would never learn fractions at all. What was the point?</span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">I was tempted to just give up, to quit fighting for his learning. Not entirely, just on that point----but I was not born yesterday, and I know how this temptation thing works a little bit. All it takes is a little give here, and a little give there, and pretty soon,</span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">you stop fighting. </span></div>
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<span class="text Heb-12-1" id="en-KJV-30214">I didn't realize how hard my course would be sometimes. I know that there are much, much harder courses. I know that some of you are on the Swiss Alps right now, facing circumstances that make my race rightfully look like a mole hill, and oh how my heart goes out to you! </span></div>
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But sisters, no matter the hill you are on;</div>
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Home School Hill, </div>
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Toddler Tantrum Volcano,</div>
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Co-Worker Canyon,</div>
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Grouchy Spouse Summit,</div>
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Caregiver Pinnacle,</div>
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run with patience. After all, the beginning of that verse says, <i><b>"wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses. . . " </b></i></div>
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You know who is my great cloud of witnesses right now? The people who make up my scenery----my children. My church family, the lost all around me----</div>
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They are watching me run. I learned today that I CAN get up this big old hill in front of me. But I have to run with patience, for I am my own worst enemy. </div>
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We have the author and finisher of our faith at the finish line, cheering for us. He stands ready to help, to encourage, and to comfort. "Run with patience". Don't let your emotions rule your spirit. We have a sure hope, a steady anchor, a rock on which we stand, and a God who left the Comforter to give direction and aid to us----who has promised that if we do things His way, we will succeed. Have confidence, not in yourself, but in the Master Designer of <b>your race. </b></div>
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If we seek to run our race with patience to the pleasing of the one at the finish line, sisters----what a peaceful, beautiful, lovely course we will run. We can truly have joy in our journeys.</div>
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You are all loved this day.</div>
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Sandra </div>
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-37706494720439986752015-02-13T13:53:00.002-08:002015-02-13T13:53:51.435-08:0050 Charades----part 2<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">charade: (n) an absurd pretense intended to create a pleasant or
respectable appearance.</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In 2011, author E.L.
James unleashed a firestorm with the first book in the “Fifty Shades of Grey”
trilogy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selling over 60 million
copies, the book was #1 on the New York Times’ bestseller list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">These books have been
met with both support and criticism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supporters
claim that this is a harmless way to explore new territory for women and is
liberating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supporters also insinuate
that critics are prudes and are denying their own sense of lust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Critics are often “Church Lady” types,
disgusted and pointing a finger at those who partake in the reading of this
book as unclean lepers, decrying the sinful degree to which one must stoop to
read it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I quite frankly am
weary of hearing both of those points.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For me, I see this a little bit differently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If you haven’t read “50
Charades, part 1”, you will probably find it helpful to stop now and read, as
you will need the vignettes found there to understand my explanation.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what was I trying to say with the vignette of Couple One
and Couple Two?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the examples of Couple One and Couple Two, they are each
eating a meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that meal is
representative of. . . . </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Intimacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Defined as,
“close familiarity or fellowship; nearness in friendship”, and in this context,
also including a physically intimate relationship.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Couple One is a marriage that has been touched by
pornography first brought in by the husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pornography is EVERYWHERE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is at the grocery checkout and on the highway billboard and in the
advertisements for clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in the
box scores of the paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is online,
anonymous, and plentiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is on TV
commercials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are all bombarded by
images of pornography.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When a woman has a husband who chooses to view pornography,
she is like the wife in Couple One.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
has prepared and adorned herself to the best of her ability to provide intimacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is sure that she isn’t the best thing out
there and she is often times keenly aware she is no supermodel, but she looks
at herself as a gift to her husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
she is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pornography is a charade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When a man brings pornography into his family, the charade
says that it doesn’t hurt anyone and that it can spice up your marriage,
thereby improving it, and that it is OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In reality it hurts both of you and is the enemy of intimacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wounds your wife by bringing a competitor into
the most private, vulnerable, and least confident of areas, and results in bitterness:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she is powerless to fight against a nameless,
ever changing, virtual enemy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She feels unloved,
disrespected, and uncherished. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It pushes
her away to a place where she begins to feel her own need for external intimacy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which brings me to the book.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In response, the wife runs to her own pornography:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>literature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Literature differs in that it is relational and the reader is sharing an
experience with the character, which is why it is a successful tool against
women, who are by design more relational. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God created Eve to be the helper of Adam, and after their
sin He stated of Eve, and all subsequent women; “her desire shall be unto her
husband”. Women want the approval of their husbands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reward of the Virtuous Woman spoken of in
Proverbs 31 is that she would be rewarded in this manner:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“give her the fruit of her hands, and let her
own works praise her in the gates.” She has a desire to be well spoken of by
her husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We may not want to do
things his way all the time or even MOST of the time, but we all seek and need
his approval, much like as children, and sometimes adults, we seek and need our
father’s approval. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When a man sets the tone that, in order to have intimacy,
you must seek the need for yourself in other things------well, he is leading
his wife to do the same.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why are we so surprised at this phenomenon of women wanting to
read books like this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shouldn’t be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They depict a relationship where a man is
fiercely, and abusively, engaged with his lover in all aspects of her existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This book is male attention on steroids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you know how many husbands I have met whose week consists
of going to work (maybe), drinking with the guys, and playing video games into
the wee hours of the morning, and viewing pornography?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
is just the icing on the great big old cake of loneliness that his wife is eating
each and every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally she gives up
the fight, and starts following his lead:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>by having that need for intimacy met elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She finds it in friends and social time and books that
provoke the senses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shuts down to
her husband, and they lose intimacy----not just physically, but mentally and
emotionally too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they do come
together-----physically or otherwise-----they may both be engaged, but are
partaking as separate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But dear reader, oh it was never ever intended to be like
that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God never designed marriage to be
two lonely people coexisting, scrambling in an unintended selfishness to get
needs met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is love-----He is true,
patient, longsuffering, promise keeping, unfailing, head-over-heels, know you
to the very number of hairs on your head, LOVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Marriage is to be a reflection of that love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He gave us the gift of intimacy to be fully enjoyed in that
capacity, in the context of a promise as husband and wife, mutually; physically
and otherwise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why His word
speaks against fornication, adultery, and homosexuality---they are self-serving
types of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A selfless type of love,
where each person seeks only the best for each other to a great degree of
sacrifice-----to the point of daily laying down each desire, big and small, to
the benefit of the other---- is what marriage should look like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Song of Solomon in the Old Testament is a book that
makes people squirm in church when the preacher says to turn to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a very descriptive narrative of the
love that Christ has for His church, but it is written as woman speaking of “my
beloved” and the husband speaking of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is very descriptive in the love each has for the other, but two
things I love about it----</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bride calls her beloved, among other things, “my friend”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The espoused husband calls his bride, “my sister, my spouse”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They love each other way beyond physical
intimacy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now-----what a lot of the bestsellers in Christian
bookstores say is, “there is hope for your marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look at how awesome it can be!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be all fulfilling and perfect!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which is a big, fat half-truth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is there hope for your marriage?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely, in Jesus there is, and in doing
things His way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But is there ultimate
fulfillment in marriage?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nope. Not by a long shot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there IS ultimate fulfillment in Jesus! Listen to the bride describing how she met “her Beloved”: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">By night on my bed
I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will rise now, and
go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my
soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him
whom my soul loveth?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was but a little
that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and
would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into
the chamber of her that conceived me.-----Song of Solomon 3:1-4</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh dear reader, I too have found Him whom my soul loveth!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In June of 1995 I sought for Him by my
bedside too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had tried for years to find
Him in the broad ways of works, and religion, and a profession of the
mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I found Him not----until I
heard some watchmen who pointed me to repentance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I humbled myself before Him and abased
my pride and confessed my utter wretchedness before my King of Kings-----oh,
then I FOUND Him whom my soul loveth!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I would not let Him go, and I have feebly and very poorly tried to take the
message of My Beloved to those I love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because my Beloved loved me enough to make me His----I can
love my husband like He does me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
love as I should most of the time, but I AM able because HE is able, and when I
rely on Him I do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which is what is on my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Those who profess Christianity may or may not really know
this Beloved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can say I know who
LeBron James is but this is useless if he doesn’t know me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But a true child of God, who Jesus<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>knows through true salvation----should
realize that we are not above ANY TEMPTATION.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want to educate, not hate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
want to speak God’s truth in full----not just in judgment, but in love, so that my friends might be pointed to JESUS, the “author and finisher of our faith”. It isn’t
in my own strength that I avoid temptation, but in HIS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized a long time ago that I myself am,
as they say, “a hot mess”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friends, if I could give you anything, I would give you a
taste of Jesus. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart’s desire is
that you come to intimately be loved by Jesus, who knows you and created you. I
long for you to know Him, to have your delight in Him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be deeply known and loved in the
soul----not your mind or heart, but your soul-- a place that lies dormant until
Jesus passes through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray your desire
is to find Him, that He may be your beloved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love to you all this fine day----</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-2606721153913192462015-02-11T22:48:00.000-08:002015-02-11T22:50:22.089-08:0050 Charades------part 1<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Couple One:</u></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The table was set in the very best she had; matching
plates registered for eight months before, stylish yet sensible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The glasses had only been used twice since
their wedding day and now elegantly stood tall, proudly showing off a wonderful
hand squeezed lemonade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Atop the table
was a loaf of homemade bread, not particularly Amish smooth but soft and warm
none the less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could still feel a
slight strain in her forearms as it took her quite some time to knead, and a
slow, sly smile came to her lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
couldn’t wait until he finally arrived home from work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She pulled the ribs off the grill, and while they were
tender they bore a few charred lines here and there, which disappointed her
greatly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started to despair inside
like a little child who had been denied, but then heard tires in the
gravel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quickly removed her apron,
and looking at her reflection in the patio door tucked a stray wheat-colored
lock behind her ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slightly nervous,
she went to the door.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She opened it, and her heart sank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband came home with BBQ stains on his
mouth, carrying a Styrofoam take-out box. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey honey, wow did I have a day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were super busy, and I know you called me,
but. .. “</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Finally stopping to look at her, he was perplexed by the
expression on her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, yeah. . . yeah I know we were supposed to have a
nice dinner in tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you’ll never
BELIEVE my luck!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got the chance to eat
at the new BBQ place in town, and it was just awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know that you made ribs tonight, and
they’re always pretty decent, you know----- but these. . . . these just do
something crazy to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the
absolute best I have ever tasted. I’ll probably be hungry later----can you just
heat them up for me in a few hours?”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Week after week, her hard worked dinners were met with a Styrofoam
take out box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First it was the new BBQ
place, then a burger joint, then a pizza place; then any new place in
town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And week after week, her meal was
consumed in a mirthless quiet, until that gave way to a deep bitterness.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One evening her husband had come home early, and in an
effort to surprise his wife he had picked up dinner from the only place they
usually went to together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He set the
table and read the news until she came home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey honey!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey I
wanted to surprise you tonight with our favorite place!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I picked it up on the way home-----“</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not hungry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured you would love this. . . .”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, to be honest, I am kind of tired of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I stopped in for a spicy sushi roll from
the new place in town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wouldn’t
believe how awesome it is!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
atmosphere is really a lot of fun----my friends and I have been meeting there a
lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the best fun I have had in
ages!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We dance and laugh and just talk
and have a great time together.”</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sometimes the couple would eat together-----he would eat
his meal and she would eat hers, in the same room together, but never the same
meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rift grew a little bigger each
week.<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Couple Two:</u></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></u></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Wiping the sweaty, sticky hair from her forehead, Allyson
put the firmly frozen pizza in the oven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“It’s amazing how long these suckers take to bake!”, she said,
consulting the box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had spent most
of the day dealing with sick children in this summer heat, and she surely didn’t
have much to show for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
She managed to pick up the living room a bit because she
knew that Will would be home soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
knew that was important to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
worked such long hours at the machine shop to make a way for her and the kids that
he deserved a little order and peace when he came home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went to the door and opened it, mustering
up all the cheerfulness she could find.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Will saw his sweet wife in the doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My goodness, she looks like she’s had a day”,
he thought to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Allyson was such
a hard worker, so thoughtful toward him and the children and to others. She deserved a little rest when he came home,
so he intended to read books to his sick little ones so she could have some
time of her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After quick kisses Will asked about dinner. She
apologetically told him that it was just a frozen pizza----nothing fancy, and
certainly not what she wanted to serve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She knew there were so many better pizzas out there to be eating, but
she gave the very best she had that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Will was so happy to have that pizza with his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were many other places to get a better
tasting pizza, but no one in the world had made a pizza just for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>.except
Allyson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And no man had worked hard for
her that day . . . except Will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were thankful for the meal they shared together, which could have just as well
been filet mignon, for the companionship was the true delight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They ate side by side, enjoying the pizza, fully
engaged with one another, eyes sparkling and both laughing and sharing about
their day, the good, the bad, and the ugly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</u></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ff99ff;">I <i>am</i> my beloved's, and his desire <i>is</i> toward
me.----Solomon 7: 10</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ff99ff; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I am</span><span style="color: #ff99ff;"> my beloved's, and my beloved <i>is</i> mine: he feedeth
among the lilies.----Solomon 6:3</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ff99ff;">His mouth <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">is</span>
most sweet: yea, he <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">is</span>
altogether lovely. This <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">is</span> my
beloved, and this <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">is</span> my friend,
O daughters of Jerusalem.-----Solomon 5:16</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #558ed5; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #558ED5; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=60000 lumo=40000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text2; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themetint: 153;">Thou <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">art</span> all fair, my love; <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">there is</span> no spot in thee.-----Solomon
4:7</span></div>
<div align="center" class="reg" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #558ed5; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #558ED5; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=60000 lumo=40000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text2; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themetint: 153;">Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, <i>my</i>
spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of
thy neck. How fair is thy love, my sister, <i>my</i> spouse! how much better is
thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!-------Solomon
4:9-10</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-69778762550039762032015-01-30T09:12:00.001-08:002015-01-30T09:12:37.292-08:00The LawmanMy childhood super hero is retiring today.<br />
<br />
I can remember as a very little girl when my handsome daddy would be getting ready for work. He would sling on his heavy, wide black belt with the various sized pouches on it just before he left for the evening. When it was off and sitting on the table I would latch and unlatch the "keepers", little black loops for keeping things on the belt, apparently. I would marvel at the weight of the mag light, and couldn't understand why it needed to be so much heavier than our household plastic flashlight. I never could figure out how a night stick could actually be a weapon. And the .357 Magnum was more of a paperweight than anything else to me. Taught with firm discipline that it was not a toy, I was a child who was surrounded by firearms and was never tempted to use them. I still am not.<br />
<br />
If I was able to be awake when he left for the midnight shift, I would hug my daddy tight around the neck, kiss his smooth cheek, deeply breathe in his cologne, and think about how handsome he was in his uniform with his dark hair. Even as a young girl I could grasp that in his line of work there was a chance that he wouldn't be coming back home. I told myself that the heavy bullet proof vest he wore, which I would throw on my skinny shoulders and parade around the living room each time I could, was like Captain America's shield, able to protect in all circumstances.<br />
<br />
My daddy, in my mind, was 10 feet tall. After all, when your daddy is a cop, he is the one everyone else calls when they are in trouble. He was called on duty, and off duty----to help break up domestic skirmishes among the neighbors, or the time there was a peeping tom in the neighborhood. He had really cool places to take us, like when we got to go to the courthouse and ride in the elevator, or to the county fair when he directed traffic, or for rides in the Crown Vic. It seemed we always had friends with German shepherd dogs, and we had them too. We knew the clerks in the convenience stores by name, and listened to a scanner at home. We had lots of cops that were friends----most good, a few bad, and a few somewhere in between. <br />
<br />
As I got older and my dad got more experienced, he moved up to different positions, culminating as a police chief. But no matter where he was working or what he was doing, being a cop continued to touch our lives. There were times the job or the pager interrupted family activities. There were long, long hours that would stretch into nearly days sometimes, whenever a substantial crime was first committed. <br />
<br />
Perhaps the most pressing thing is the interruptions I didn't see. Being a cop, or a soldier, or anyone else who deals with the basest of human behaviors, touches places inside that most of us don't have to visit very often. It changes your world view of humanity. It causes a silent, secret tap dance inside between the reality of the workplace and the reality of home. <br />
<br />
This is what other families don't see. They don't see Superman coming home after a long day of dealing with sinful shenanigans, only to change out of the cape and into Clark Kent's suit to pretend the job was just another day at the Daily News. They don't see the up close evil in the day to day, the cruel and hard ways in which people deal with one another. Other families can live in relative normalcy, assuming that bad things happen to other people-----when the super hero's experience tells him that in the blink of an eye, we can all be the other people.<br />
<br />
So it seems strange that, after being a cop, a detective, a captain, an investigator, working for the coroner, and finally, pasturing out at a bailiff (haha!)----my dad is retiring. For the first time in my lifetime, my dad will have the chance to be like everyone else. And I hope that he enjoys it to the very fullest.<br />
<br />
Dad, thank you so very, very much, for the hard work and sacrifice you have made for me. For providing for me through multiple jobs at a time, and for doing it in such a taxing way. I am so very proud of the service you have provided to your community; for helping others in their most despairing moments with little thankfulness, but I thank God for giving you to me. I hope you have a wonderful day today and rather than send you some cheesy gift, I will send you what ends every Superman's career.<br />
<br />
Kryptonite. Not in the form of a donut, but in the form of an entirely different cheesy gift---<br />
<br />
You can pick up your double anchovy pizza tonight after work from Guido's. <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Sandra :)Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-36784046310609946462015-01-17T22:42:00.001-08:002015-01-17T23:19:51.057-08:00Laundry SoapHello ladies (and fellows, if you are reading this)!<br />
<br />
I want you to know, that both as a blogger and as a person, I never want to put something in my blog that makes me look like I have it "all together". You know the blogs----the cutesy, flowery ones where the moms are confessing some terrible humble brag about something like, "sometimes when I clean out the van, I am so embarrassed--- today I found ONE french fry under the car seat". Or maybe, "I must confess that this year I only made 5 quilts, since I am busy making cheese, roofing the house with synthetic shingles the children created with rocks and Play-do in our home school engineering class, and making sure that I have ironed all the socks. Remember, the ones that I hand-knitted, not while watching TV, but while I was watching my children put on a spontaneous musical adaptation of 'War and Peace'?" Ugh.<br />
<br />
My friends, I am a student of life. I am learning who I am, what I struggle with, and how to try to rule over my flesh every. Single. Day. As a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, and most importantly, a child of God, I fail a lot; but God is so good to patiently teach and instruct me. That is what I want my blog to be about: how God has put me on this adventure, and what He is teaching me, and how absolutely, wonderfully awesome He is.<br />
<br />
This is precisely why I don't share a lot of "how to" things. I usually wait for someone to ask me, and then I share in person. Because I don't want to be that "Ugh" person.<br />
<br />
Well, today I want to share something with you that I have been doing now since about 2010, if I am not mistaken. It has saved me hundreds of dollars and countless trips to the store. And it truly takes about 10 minutes to do, once every four to six months:<br />
<br />
I make my own laundry soap.<br />
<br />
I remember when I first read an article in our local paper about someone doing this. "What?!? She does. . . WHAT?!?" The woman may as well been making ricin or Spam. I thought, "Can you really DO THAT?" Well, why couldn't you do it?<br />
<br />
I don't know what I was afraid of. I mean, I am hardly a professional laundress. We have a laundry checklist: <i>1. Is it clean? 2. Is it dry? 3. Is it not too embarrassingly wrinkled to wear it in public? </i>Three yes's and we are ready to go out.<br />
<br />
But making my own detergent was sort of going rogue. I was a Rebel at Home. It was a way to, well, <i>stick it to the man. </i>I felt like I was sitting on some big enormous secret. <i> Psssst-----hey! You there! The one hauling out your 55 gallon drum of Tide that cost $700 from Sam's Club. Do you know what I can do? And can you find your receipt you just crammed in your purse before you get to the lady at the door with the marker? </i>I felt a little Amish. I felt like if there was a zombie apocalypse, that my family would be the only one in clean clothes. I'm sort of a laundry doomsday prepper: if the nation's economy ever shut down and the stores were empty. . . well, we could trade laundry detergent for some rice and beans! <br />
<br />
A woman who is a keeper at home may be doing many manual tasks with her hands, but don't be fooled: <i>our brains are moving a hundred miles an hour.</i> We are CEO's of our households and are always looking to lower that bottom line because, after all, that is what keeps flavored coffee creamer in the fridge.<br />
<br />
And truly, seriously-----I think that a lot of mama's out there could reduce their work hours by living a thriftier lifestyle. I would highly suggest to read a "Little House" book. Reading those helped me to see that out on the prairie, joy was found in WORKING. Not at Target with Starbucks in the hand, strolling for hours. And yes, I am sure there were times that Ma wanted to run Pa, still wearing his shirt, through a wringer washer because he went hunting all day and left her there with kids that only had 2 toys between them, but there was still joy in just doing a hard day's work. The Lord started to show me that I have trouble feeling satisfied with a simple lifestyle and that I crave distractions, and while it is something I have grown in, I still have a long way to go. If we could find our joy in tasks rather than in goods, we wouldn't have as much leisure time for entertainment and we wouldn't buy as many things. And more women could stay home a little more. I fear for our nation as a whole, as we have become so very dependent upon entertainment to get us through our discontented, busy, soft, and unnecessarily stressful lives. <br />
<br />
So, someone inquired of this laundry "elixir", and I thought, "I am going to tell the whole world about my laundry soap!!!! With pictures!!!" Just in case you are too skeerd to try it.<br />
<br />
So enough rambling. On to the soap!<br />
<br />
1. You need the following:<br />
<ul>
<li>5 gallon bucket</li>
<li>Empty, clean, 1 gallon milk jug</li>
<li>Cooking pot dedicated for laundry soap only----I got mine at Goodwill</li>
<li>Cheese grater</li>
<li>Long stick, like a yardstick, 5-gallon paint stirring stick, or just a plain old stick.</li>
<li>1 box of Arm & Hammer washing soda, which on walmart.com is $3.24 for 55 ounces</li>
<li>1 box of 20 Mule Team Borax, on walmart.com for $7.70 for 76 ounces</li>
<li>1 bar of Fels-Naptha soap, at walmart stores for $1.00</li>
<li>One cup measuring cup </li>
</ul>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlzMm_4LBsKULZJxmZj0-QiTHEbQ57vFoiAIRqWL1zdrFN1aoesDIGsCXtv8-2ZCfXuOfk-XWRuYaMuSbJMkae5Ulq4lRloJNGSYKc0iA0ZZdNjMVV6CImmL5LbVRDH_eGHoU0lGX9DIXj/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlzMm_4LBsKULZJxmZj0-QiTHEbQ57vFoiAIRqWL1zdrFN1aoesDIGsCXtv8-2ZCfXuOfk-XWRuYaMuSbJMkae5Ulq4lRloJNGSYKc0iA0ZZdNjMVV6CImmL5LbVRDH_eGHoU0lGX9DIXj/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" height="212" title="Supplies needed" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What you need to get started.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<u><b>STEP ONE: </b></u><br />
Unwrap the Fels-Naptha, which is an old school laundry soap. You may use other soaps for fragrance, etc., but Fels has a great reputation as a degreaser. You will then grate the soap as pictured by my lovely model below. It will look like cheddar cheese. Keep all husbands and male children out of the kitchen and do not leave the faux shredded cheese unattended. Trust me. (Some people also use their food processors to grind up the soap, therefore limiting the amount of knuckle present in the final product.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOv1f-aoYo_ceDpxdoy1Plt0Y0XTFFktttTjIBFJyn4-yc3ZdCJyM8anL5zs92NCVluVcpmuQw_Zg1FsmwgHX8qIiIB7rIWl6bREma9LLfz0vhdjje8QeugnZq5Hh1NH7lDJ9ZIJA601N/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOv1f-aoYo_ceDpxdoy1Plt0Y0XTFFktttTjIBFJyn4-yc3ZdCJyM8anL5zs92NCVluVcpmuQw_Zg1FsmwgHX8qIiIB7rIWl6bREma9LLfz0vhdjje8QeugnZq5Hh1NH7lDJ9ZIJA601N/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If she can do it, so can you!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJUHA9I68PW8jhayiYAouMJ8XVbR7o-tygCciM5cWBeRK9wgKi9hxRU2uKNeXJXhR2mlM7yiyGlN_xiYnSPIGBKt8kH4EACEqy2T8vmqSwOFR9GXS0vkAiaTXya0fGvF4hLDFVX0v9LTE/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJUHA9I68PW8jhayiYAouMJ8XVbR7o-tygCciM5cWBeRK9wgKi9hxRU2uKNeXJXhR2mlM7yiyGlN_xiYnSPIGBKt8kH4EACEqy2T8vmqSwOFR9GXS0vkAiaTXya0fGvF4hLDFVX0v9LTE/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see why they eat it?</td></tr>
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<u><b>STEP 2:</b></u><br />
It is time to cook the Fels. Put the shredded soap in the pot and add 1/2 of a gallon of water. You don't have to be exact, you just need to eyeball it. Turn it on low and stir (with stick) until it is melted. You don't want to boil this. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMxT-UqDXRBTzc4WG1S2FxEqNyiKr3hRJJj3qLpRu7f_SgbwxtlfIgcJg2Em04bysfggXGN4apfxitLmlRkJTWyMB4LQujGtQgz129Y884sXGrRC5hnknFBkrTUkM_yXMhDSkspSBctNFT/s1600/DSC_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMxT-UqDXRBTzc4WG1S2FxEqNyiKr3hRJJj3qLpRu7f_SgbwxtlfIgcJg2Em04bysfggXGN4apfxitLmlRkJTWyMB4LQujGtQgz129Y884sXGrRC5hnknFBkrTUkM_yXMhDSkspSBctNFT/s1600/DSC_0026.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<u><b>STEP 3:</b></u><br />
Fill your bucket with 3 gallons of lukewarm water. Don't use cold. It will cause the soap to "set up" really fast. Pour 1 CUP of washing soda and 1 CUP of borax into the bucket, and stir with the stick. Be careful with these powders. It's kind of like making Kool Aid, as in it is easy to inhale accidentally, so you should hold your breath when pouring it out. Mix it until it is dissolved. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAy4jnD8X1uWB2Rnivg4GCOKz8CHn6OREBBjuKVf9f_cTIdzPM_qlvvCjeZ6Ey7w-ytB09FzEGzXSyZa94gL0CT6OlQyzbDjmpWRcbXv6jnKagX51LXir3FgxN3C2ECmyTn_BHmpVh9dR/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAy4jnD8X1uWB2Rnivg4GCOKz8CHn6OREBBjuKVf9f_cTIdzPM_qlvvCjeZ6Ey7w-ytB09FzEGzXSyZa94gL0CT6OlQyzbDjmpWRcbXv6jnKagX51LXir3FgxN3C2ECmyTn_BHmpVh9dR/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
<u><b> </b></u><br />
<br />
<u><b>STEP 4: </b></u><br />
Gently pour the contents of the pot (the Fels) INTO the bucket and stir. Your soap will congeal a bit, typically by the next day but sometimes before. It is perfectly OK to use the soap as soon as you make it. You will either need to stir it before using if the gel-like consistency grosses you out, or you can just use it straight in there. After significant self-talk, I can now use it straight in. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgDKISz59yhKyXWLuvfjaWfkFEE8BFpaGMBtgfeMv78lU_gVI4UalizlHGDhO12Svg-eDDfUfNA5IaGcUOeYqk7I2I0PnIRgYKxdkea6KF-cg5ulv-FsfzXq97JOvq9R5Urge320lVMCc/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgDKISz59yhKyXWLuvfjaWfkFEE8BFpaGMBtgfeMv78lU_gVI4UalizlHGDhO12Svg-eDDfUfNA5IaGcUOeYqk7I2I0PnIRgYKxdkea6KF-cg5ulv-FsfzXq97JOvq9R5Urge320lVMCc/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished product, before it congeals.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Congratulations!! You just made detergent!! Cover your bucket with a lid, keep it up high from little people, and you can use it immediately. <br />
<br />
<u><b>FAQ'S: </b></u><br />
1. How much do I use in a large load? <i>1 cup for top loading machines, 1/4 cup for front loading machines.</i><br />
2. Will this hurt my machine? <i>I don't think so, but you'd have to ask it. It hasn't bothered mine and I have had both machines.</i><br />
3. Does it sud? <i>No. Which is awesome because you can use it in a front loading machine, and you DON'T NEED FABRIC SOFTENER. At all. Not even a dryer sheet. </i><br />
4. What does it smell like? <i>Nothing. It is just clean. There is a tiny bit of a fragrance from the Fels, and you can add essential oils, but to me the price of the oils negates my laundry savings. What I do is use the Downy Unstopables for fragrance, and it doesn't take much for a great scent, probably because it isn't competing for fragrance space with my detergent. P.S. Those Unstopables are great for making auto air fresheners. Just make up a "Christmas Ornament Dough" recipe, and put some of those in the mix. Use a cookie cutter for the shape and use a straw to poke a hole in the top to put a string through. Great gifts from kids to grandparents.</i><br />
5. Does it really work? <i>Yes, it does. I do use the detergent to pre-treat really bad stains. I also use peroxide for blood stains too. But it really does work. Try more or less in your machine. </i> <br />
6. Is it safe for my clothes? <i>I have not had one problem in using it on my clothes. </i><br />
7. Do I really save money? <i><b>Ok, this is the fun fun part:</b></i><br />
<i><b> I wash about one load a day. I have a family of 6.</b></i><br />
<i><b>Cost per batch: Borax, $0.80 + Washing Soda, +$0.48 + Fels Naptha, $1.00 = $2.27</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
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<i><b>THIS LASTS ME ALMOST 6 MONTHS. </b></i></div>
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>So I spend less than $10 a year on washing all of our clothes! And SO CAN YOU!!!!!</b></i><br />
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Aren't you inspired now?!? Get your keys, get to Walmart, and<br />
<br />
<i>. . . . . stick it to the man. </i><br />
<br />
Have a great day!!Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-82637410516855096092014-12-14T21:36:00.002-08:002014-12-14T21:36:13.410-08:00Engaged<i>"and Mary was espoused to Joseph. . . .. "</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The teacher is the student again.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I was teaching the kids this morning about "The Christmas Story" of the birth of Jesus. It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all to me this year. Maybe its no snow, or the fact that I saw a daffodil in full bloom the other day, which I am still coming to terms with.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>When I feel this way about a task (like doing Christmasy stuff)----"why am I doing all of this again?"--- I have to dig deeper. The veneer of the day to day looses its luster, and I have to go digging to find deeper meaning about why, whatever the task I am doing, matters. (This is probably why I wasn't a good math student). What a better way to do this than to dig my teeth in deeper into the Christmas story?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>So today we talked about Mary being told by Gabriel about how she was blessed and favored among women, because she would be the vessel chosen not only to bear, but raise, Jesus. My goodness, could there be any more daunting task in the history of totally humankind? As if ordinary motherhood doesn't provoke enough anxiety!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And what I learned doesn't have so much to do with that at all.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
~~~~~~<br />
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<br />
Babies, puppies and engagements. They all invoke a sweet, precious sort of love that is reserved for all things innocent, and a love that is somewhat one-sided. Its a love that springs from the way someone or something makes you feel, and the delight that you take in that person. How can you not absolutely drink up a sweet five month old baby? Or rub the full little belly of a sleepy puppy? Or be madly, deeply in love with your recently betrothed?<br />
<br />
I remember the first time I wore my engagement ring out in public. I was 18, tall and thin with a long slender ring finger. And the sun was shining. I walked with my best high school friend with that shiny gold ring just glittering light, blinding both my eyes and my heart. I was just smitten----by the ring, the man, the whole idea of being a wife. Just consumed by it. <br />
<br />
And the ring! Well, I loved showing it off. I was so sure that it was the best ring ever (because it was a diamond you could really see and not just take on faith), that I worried about appearing too boastful. I loved people asking me about it, looking at it when I was driving, and how it made my hand go from that belonging to a teenager. . . . to that belonging to a woman.<br />
<br />
At our marriage I was given a plain gold band. Very simple, with absolutely no detail. I picked it out. It is very thin and I wanted to be sure that my engagement ring maintained top billing. I don't have to worry about it much. It is dependable, stays put, and doesn't get snagged on anything or scratched.<br />
<br />
Marriage is so summed up in those two rings. <br />
<br />
That engagement ring is a symbol of laying a claim to something. It is sort of like a beautiful form of mutual branding---"Property of the J.Stotler Ranch". I was claimed, and anyone looking at me who cared to glance at that hand would have seen that. We were young, and took great delight not only in the person of each other, but in the whole new, young love experience, and in dreaming of our future together. A future that has largely, at nearly 40 years old, become the present day.<br />
<br />
An engagement relationship is lots of flash. Lots of excitement and activity and "look at me". Delighting in one another, and being delighted in. It is a beautiful season of life.<br />
<br />
But that wedding band. . . . that band is a utility piece of equipment. It isn't made to say "look at me". It is made to be worn easily. It is easy to serve others with that band on----in the garden, changing oil in the car, washing dishes, mowing the lawn. The real beauty about the wedding band is the hand it is on-----worn, rugged, strong, wrinkled, calloused. It is a hand marred by working and serving the other. To the eye it is not much to see, but oh what a deep, lasting promise it is! It is for better or worse. When we talk about our vows, usually the one that gains our attention is "in sickness and in health". "For better or for worse" can both occur during the same day! <br />
<br />
The cares of this world may pause the dating for a season, and the frenetic pace at which we move may tempt us to disengage for a while. But we are past the engagement ring. We are working off of the band. The band is a covenant to serve one another, with joy and gladness and tenderness----a covenant made with our betrothed, and with God. It is the part of marriage where we learn to love like Jesus.<br />
<br />
And it is deeper, and stronger, and more satisfying and beautiful than the first type of love ever could be. When you give your all to your spouse, and they give their all to you, marriage is a picture of perfect heavenly love. If you are struggling to do this, ask God to help break your pride. In eighteen years I have had to do this many times, and I am sure that my hubby has too.<br />
<br />
(Well. . . . probably at least once.) <br />
<br />
You are loved this Christmas by God and me,<br />
Sandra <br />
<br />
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-58102979227100785712014-10-11T16:49:00.000-07:002014-10-11T17:01:43.095-07:00Busy Mama Healthy Bean Soup1 pkg Hillshire Farms Smoked Turkey Sausage (like kielbasa), chopped<br />
1/2 onion, minced<br />
2 cloves garlic<br />
1 box chicken broth, 32 ouunces<br />
1 tablespoon olive oil<br />
6 carrots, peeled and sliced<br />
1 12.5 ounce can chunk chicken breast<br />
All bean cans are 15.5 ounces, and all should be drained:<br />
2 cans Great Northern, 2 cans Navy, 2 cans Cannellini (white kidney beans)<br />
1 tsp black pepper<br />
1 tsp garlic salt <br />
1/2 tsp. liquid smoke<br />
<br />
Saute onion, garlic, sausage in olive oil. Lower heat, add chicken broth.<br />
Add black pepper and garlic salt, bring to boil. Add carrots. Cook until just softened slightly.<br />
Add chicken and beans. Reduce to a simmer, and cook until carrots are cooked through.<br />
<br />
Fat content: There are 36 grams of total fat in the entire pot, 10.5 of which are saturated fat. I cooked it in a very large Dutch oven. I would estimate that there are about 12 servings in the pot. This number is NOT including the olive oil. The olive oil would add another 2 grams of saturated fat to the pot. Which means each serving has 1 gram of saturated fat. You could reduce it by reducing the onions and garlic with the chicken broth.<br />
<br />
Total cost at my Walmart (minus seasonings, onion and garlic): $11.93<br />
<br />
I love bean soup, I love butter, and I love bacon. . . .but they don't love me or my wallet!<br />
<br />
<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-5757982726015808522014-09-25T01:30:00.003-07:002014-09-25T01:30:44.376-07:00Hide and Seek
<span class="reftext"><i>Colossians 3:3: </i> </span><i>For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. </i><br />
<br />
<i>1 Timothy 6: 1-6: </i><br />
<i> <span class="text 1Tim-6-1" id="en-KJV-29790">Let
as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of
all honour, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed.</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-2" id="en-KJV-29791"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>And
they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because
they are brethren; but rather do them service, because they are faithful
and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach and exhort.</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text 1Tim-6-3" id="en-KJV-29792">If
any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the
words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according
to godliness;</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text 1Tim-6-4" id="en-KJV-29793"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>He
is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of
words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings,</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text 1Tim-6-5" id="en-KJV-29794"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>Perverse
disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth,
supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>But godliness with contentment is great gain.</span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">A long, long time ago, before marriage and babies, I was a young woman of about 19 and I had some fairly deeply rooted thoughts about what my life should look like. The "should" generally came from public opinion at large, that which society feels that a moderately academically successful </span><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">young woman should look like. I should be educated, I should establish a career in something fulfilling to me, and at some point I should marry and eventually have children. </span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">(I need to interrupt myself a bit at this point and just go on record as saying I have no problem whatsoever with a woman being educated beyond high school. In fact, it is my intention to steer my daughter in that direction, but it is her job to submit to what God's will should be in her life, whether that is what I should desire or not, which will be up to her to figure out.)</span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">Well, I did that. And in doing so I always felt like a "lady in waiting"----- a lady waiting to have and raise her own children. I would go to conferences and meetings in my suits and heels and doodle names of future babies in pretty cursive in my notebooks. I would draw pictures of my dream home----big porch, on a hill, on a farm----when I should have been engaged in the latest Medicaid rule changes. And at last, eight and a half long years after saying "I do", I became a mother.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">As much as I have loved the adventures and joy that is parenting, and as much as I felt like I was no longer "in waiting", I would occasionally feel something else: invisible.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">The more babies, the more laundry, the more cooking and cleaning and mopping and pediatric appointments, the more invisible I felt. And in my heart I would sometimes panic about this invisibility, worried that I was missing out on something, though I wasn't sure what. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"></span><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"></span><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"> I was truly disappearing----behind my children. Behind the endless needs and demands and under the burden of caring for others to the extent that I was just turned inside out, emptied, with very little left to give.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">When I would feel that way I would sort of scramble inside myself, desperately seeking to carve out "me" from the mountain of domestic duties. Sometimes that would look like a new haircut. It might be a new pinterest activity, or an attempt at renewing a friendship. And even though society told me that I deserved to have my own life, for some reason extricating myself from Mt. Laundry felt a little like treason.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">God has turned my world upside down since moving to Oregon. Not in an earthquake way. More like in a snow globe way: one big flip to throw up the snow, and lots of time to see the beauty of it drifting down, down, down, in a very soft, deliberate peacefulness. Rather than lying monotonously on the bottom, the snow clings to the delicate parts of the figure inside, enhancing its beauty.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">One particular Saturday I was working hard for my family. In fact Saturday was usually my "day off" after working all week on household things. I had indeed worked very hard all week. On this day I had been meal planning, trying the best I could to speak kindness to my children because I truly wanted to, looking to feed the emotional needs of my husband and kids by being hospitable to them because I truly wanted to, and . . . . </span><i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"></span></i><br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">I wasn't exhausted.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">I was very, very contented.</span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">I was contented in a way I don't think I have been in many years. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span></i>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">As I drove over the bridge coming home from some errands, my heart's cry of thanksgiving filled up the car. I was so thankful to Jesus for my blessings, for the people I have in my life to <i>serve</i>. I sought Him for wisdom in how to treat my husband, how to teach my children, and wisdom for how to live my life. And as I prayed with tears pouring down like rivers, I just sat there and fellowshipped with my Lord a while, and I realized that my life WAS disappearing.</span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">But now, instead of being buried by my children, my life was becoming "hid with Christ in God." In serving like this, I was serving, in a very small small way-----like He did. In a patient, loving, altruistic way. And He was erasing me so that I could be more like Him.</span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">There is a difference in raising children as service to Jesus and becoming more like Him in the process, and raising children by creating little idols for yourself-----even if you are following the letter of the law and doing things the way your are "supposed" to. One of those things will leave you spent and exhausted.</span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">But the other? When the Lord blesses your efforts with joy unspeakable and full of glory in the soul, so full that your heart just brims over with love from your Savior and you can't even contain the joy inside? </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">Oh sisters. Godliness with contentment is a great, great gain indeed. And that is all the strength we need for this journey. No haircut or pinterest board will ever rival that.</span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">My favorite quote goes something like this:</span><br />
<i><span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">It matters not if the world approves or understands</span></i><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><i>The only applause we're meant to seek is that of nail-scarred hands.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"></span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">Lord, help me to remember the wisdom you showed me on the bridge. Help me to take my exhaustion as a sign of self-reliance, and help me to repent and try again by doing it Your way----by loving my blessed family and friends the way that You love me, in word and in deed and in my soul. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">You are all loved on this day-----</span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795">Sandra </span><br />
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="text 1Tim-6-6" id="en-KJV-29795"><br /></span>
<span class="reftext"></span>Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-645491006622408482014-08-20T12:39:00.001-07:002014-08-20T12:39:50.959-07:00IN MY SCHOOL<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I am a home schooler.</div>
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I use that new school clothes budget to buy our school
books.</div>
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I use that backpack and sweet lunch box money to buy
laminate paper and dry erase markers.</div>
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(Actually, dry erase markers a kind of a luxury item.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we make it stretch.)</div>
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Instead of cool shoes like all the other kids wear, we buy
unit studies on Ancient Rome and rocket kits.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rock my one-room school like a boss with the best that the
Dollar Tree has to offer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my school, the teacher is scandalously close with the
principal.</div>
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The teacher is a part-time student. </div>
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We have all of our meals in the same cafeteria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all work in the cafeteria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I have no say in how my property taxes are spent, but I have
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could find something to learn from it.</div>
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All of our work is home work.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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We are all janitors.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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the older students.</div>
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The principal works full-time in a separate gig to
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<div class="MsoNormal">
In our school, we study a subject until we learn it.</div>
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We pay for all of our own testing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only common core you will find in our school is after we
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The PTA works seamlessly unlike any other school in the
universe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We speculate that the teacher is required to wear yoga
pants.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my school, the teacher has to frequently communicate with
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students He has loaned to her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my school, the children are safe.</div>
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In my school, the children are loved.</div>
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In my school, we all sacrifice.</div>
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And even though we are all the janitor, teacher, principal,
gardener, secretary, and fiscal manager-----</div>
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I wouldn’t trade my school for any other school in the
world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
----Sandra Stotler</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-76656624069544578302014-07-16T02:12:00.000-07:002014-07-16T02:12:38.119-07:00Running on emptyFirst off, let me say that I could really use a scribe to follow me all over and write down my thoughts. I have about a zillion things to say on this blog, but just haven't taken the time to do it.<br />
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I cannot even express to you the goodness that God has shown me this past year. Can't even begin to share it. Our transition to Oregon---not just the move, but the surrender and the willingness----has shown me just how very much my Lord loves me. It defies logical sense and any practical notion within the human brain, but just know that if the Lord wants you to do something----you have NO IDEA what you are missing by not doing it. The Lord knows all, and He blesses not like a laser beam, but more like a shotgun blast, with bits of blessings all over your life. He has blessed us with a house of our own, our children with good friends, our church family with love, our marriage with a deep closeness we haven't experienced in a while, and just mountains and mountains and mountains of blessing that I could take the next day to write about. The joy is pouring out of my heart and over my lower eyelids as I type, and I am so very humbled and so, SO grateful that God cares enough about a little stay at home mom on the Oregon coast to show me so much love, grace, and mercy that I KNOW I don't deserve.<br />
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I was explaining to my kids the other day the difference between joy and happiness. I told them that happiness is circumstantial----like going to Chuck E Cheese, or the movies, or a glass of crisp, cold Diet Coke. (Yes. I really did say that to them. It's not like they don't see the satisfied smile on my lips as I crack open a cold can of chemical, caffeinated carbonation. I may have shame in my game, but I will 'fess up to the game. I can only handle so many self-improvement projects at a time.)<br />
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Oh, but joy-----joy is lasting, deep, bursting forth like a fountain in the soul! I told them that the disciples who followed Jesus probably didn't have a whole lot of "happy". Think about it----you are following Jesus for what, three years? If they had families, they likely didn't see them much. They were learning, making mistakes, being followed themselves by crowds of people who were needy, destitute, gravely (and oftentimes, contagiously) ill, and suffering. Jesus had no where to lay his head at night, and I am assuming that was much the same for the disciples. They watched him die, boldly proclaimed the gospel after He resurrected, endured tremendous persecution, and died martyrs' deaths. <br />
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WHY would anyone do that? How could you do it?<br />
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Because you had joy. <br />
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Happiness is comfort. It is comfort; newness; excitement. It is a new relationship, a new pair of shoes, a new destination, a new job. And because that new is only new for so long, happiness is fleeting.<br />
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We are a nation of people starving for joy, and attempting to fill it with "happiness".<br />
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Happiness is self-serving. Joy comes in surrender to God. Joy is a gift from God, and unlike happiness, it never grows dim. It only grows stronger, and stronger, and stronger. And it never, ever, EVER grows old.<br />
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It is so powerful, this joy from God, that men and women throughout history have exchanged their comfort, their desires, their impulses, their will, and for some their very own lives, and while the flesh may have come up empty-----<br />
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The soul is soaring on swelling clouds of joy unspeakable and full of glory.<br />
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Every single day, I make decisions to choose happiness over joy. Because very rarely does one get both.<br />
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That's sort of like eating a McDouble when you have access to filet mignon.<br />
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We fatigue on this journey with the Lord because we are filling our joy tank with happiness. We weren't created to run on happiness. We were created to crave, desire, and sustain with joy. Joy is present in all circumstances. It was present with Stephen as the stones broke his bones. It was present with Paul and Silas as they sang praises to God in bonds. It is the evidence to a lost and dying and suffering world that there is a <i>true HOPE</i> found in Jesus---not in the<i> idea </i>of Jesus, or what someone <i>thinks about </i>Jesus, or what some pastor or religious person has said Jesus is----but really found <b><i>in. JESUS</i></b>. That God cares for them, loves them, and is waiting ready to save to the uttermost.<br />
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Jesus said, "He who finds his life shall lose it. He who loses his life for my sake will find it."<br />
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Isaiah said, "<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">
Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the
Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation."</span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Oh God, that we would not settle for cheap imitations of your wonderful grace. Help us to run to you like our own little children do----with honest hearts and open minds, and show us what we need to do to find joy in surrendering our lifestyles to You.</span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">You are all loved with an everlasting love from above, and also by me----</span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Sandra </span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">p.s. I started to write about my daughter. You see, she and my husband's birthdays are both today. I cannot believe that God has given me such a beautiful, sweet, loving, spunky, intuitive, resilient child. He uses her to bless me and to teach me that it is OK to be girly. He knows I need that, and she helps me with it tremendously. She loves her mama and wants to be just like her, and that scares me to death. Pray for me, that I will be the soft, sweet, meek, loving, strong person that I want her to be. She is already better than me, and that is exactly what I pray for. </span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">p.s.s. Thank you Lord, for a wonderful year with my husband. Thank you for each and every year we have together. Thank you for using him to help me, to shape me into who You want me to be. Thank you for making him have great hair. </span><br />
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-29856285985029195352014-04-10T01:01:00.000-07:002014-04-10T01:01:42.248-07:00Waiting PatientlyOne of the most humbling and awesome aspects of being a home school teacher is that I am afforded the opportunity to learn, every day.<br />
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I learn lesser-known science or history facts, math concepts like number bonds, and revisit prepositional phrases on a daily basis. All of this takes me one step closer to a life-long goal: to be announced as a contestant, along with a nuclear physicist from Washington, D.C. and a neurosurgeon from Queens, as "Sandra Stotler, Skirt-Wearing Home School Mom of Four" on Jeopardy. <br />
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I will wave with my pale, white arm, secured inside my collared, buttoned up pastel polo shirt, not fearful of hair interference, for it will be secured in my ever-present pony tail/headband combination. My denim skirt will be long and flowing, my eyeliner will be faint and waterproof, and years of tapping my hand to the table (much like a gavel) to maintain classroom order will present a HUGE buzzer advantage. My adeptness at swiftly printing on a marker board will assure that Final Jeopardy will be answered in ample time. In my wistful view I see the category as being "Early Growing Patterns of Sunflowers", because although we have planted many, not one of them has ever, ever become an ACTUAL sunflower. Or maybe it will be, "Post Pregnancy Mispellings", where I am quizzed on words like <i>mispellings, carotts, definately,</i> and other words I used to be able to spell before I had babies. If so, I will gladly take the parting gift of cleaning supplies and Tupperware, happy to have had the chance to go to the "big city" and stay in a fancy hotel and eat in very expensive places that my wicked imagination will not allow me to do almost ever (Starbucks). <br />
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But my favorite things to learn are the things that my Heavenly Father teaches me. He blesses me with quick instruction sometimes. I am sooooo thankful for that, for this mama doesn't make studying and prayer the priority it needs to be, and yet He still loves me and wants to teach me. He very often does this when I am in the middle of teaching my kids about His goodness during our morning Bible Story Time.<br />
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Yesterday, as I was teaching out of Matthew 8, I got to the part where the disciples had followed Jesus to the boat. The boat was a place of rest for Jesus, as the multitudes were pursuing him relentlessly, seeking healing for their infirmities.<br />
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(*Side note: not what I learned this time, but one other time I got to thinking about how Jesus certainly had the most important work on this earth ever, and HE got away to rest. Think about that, martyr-mommy. Go to bed and get some rest. Take time away to study His word and pray, and to care for yourself in other ways. The dishes will still be there in the morning, and that is OK.)<br />
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Well, Jesus went to sleep, and then a big storm blew up, and before you know it the disciples were in a panic and ran to wake Him up:<br />
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<i><span class="text Matt-8-23" id="en-KJV-23369"><sup class="versenum">23 </sup>And when he was entered into a ship, his disciples followed him.</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text Matt-8-24" id="en-KJV-23370"><sup class="versenum">24 </sup>And, behold, there arose a great tempest in the sea, insomuch that the ship was covered with the waves: but he was asleep.</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text Matt-8-25" id="en-KJV-23371"><sup class="versenum">25 </sup>And his disciples came to him, and awoke him, saying, Lord, save us: we perish.</span></i><br />
<i> </i><i><span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><sup class="versenum">26 </sup>And
he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he
arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm. -----Matthew 8:23-26</span></i><br />
<i><span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span></i>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">As I was teaching this to my kids, I got a little smug thinking about how His disciples were in a panic (like I wouldn't be, right? The only reason I could ignorantly be smug like that is because I have the benefit of reading the ending, and I wasn't actually in the boat). Then I am instantly put in check:</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Because I realized that <i>I am in a panic and trying to wake up Jesus.</i></span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">And I am doing it because I am <i>fearful, and have little faith </i>in the Lord in this matter.</span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Ouch. Thank you Lord for showing me! </span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Then I get to confess it to my kids.</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">You see, our family is in a bit of a storm right now. Nothing a big deal, but a bit stormy and we are waiting on God to provide for a need that truly only He can provide. And while I KNOW that He will, and that He will do it in His ways and His time, and that He has proven this to me over and over and OVER again. . . . </span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">I am still trying to wake Him up, to reassure me. </span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">There are times in my efforts to be a disciple and follow Jesus that He allows me to be privy to some of what He is doing in my life. The Bible states that "we see through a glass darkly, but then, face to face". If you have ever looked through glass, you know that sometimes you can see things pretty clearly, but at other times you practically can't see at all. This is one of those times I feel like God is keeping the details of His provision mostly to Himself. It is a time where He wants us to walk by faith, to trust that He will provide in His time. And WOW, have I discovered that I do NOT wait well at all. </span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">I am a doer. I am a fixer. I am a problem-solving, creatively-thinking, action-taking, security-loving woman. I am NOT a good waiter. </span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Which is probably why I need this practice.</span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">You see, Jesus was right there in the boat. Just because He was quiet did not mean that He wasn't in control. He knew the storm was raging, and He held those disciples right in His loving hands, even in His silence. </span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Oh, how much I have grieved the heart of my Lord because of my lack of faith. We can make big mistakes when we try to take charge of a situation because we don't want to wait on the Lord. I think of Abraham and Sarah waiting for the son of promise, and how they took matters into their own hands. Our job is just to serve the Lord and continue to follow Him, and <i>faint not</i>. Just like my children have the job of being obedient and don't usually get to know the details of our decisions, my job is to be like them: obedient, following, trusting, ready to serve. . . waiting. </span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">If you are a true disciple, and you are following Jesus, then you are in the boat together. You might be going through a trial right now that you can't make heads or tails of, or can't see the other side of, and find yourself asking why this has to be. He gives us the broad answer: <br /><i>"But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not grow weary; they shall walk, and not faint." ----Isaiah 40:31</i></span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Lord, help us wait on You to work in Your ways. Help us to serve in simple obedience and to wait with patience on You, while you exercise us to strengthen our faith. </span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372"><br /></span>
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<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Love to you all on this fine day,</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-8-26" id="en-KJV-23372">Sandra </span><br />
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-87972000773297105762014-03-02T01:29:00.004-08:002014-03-02T01:44:07.741-08:00A Future FortuneMany, many moons ago, (as my late uncle used to say when telling me stories as a child), I was at a cross roads: do I continue college athletics and resume my studies farther from home, or do I stay home and pursue something else?<br />
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I realize at this point there is an entire section of my reading audience saying, "Is this about <b><i>her</i></b>?", when you read about the college athletics, because a good portion of you didn't know me several jersey sizes ago. No, I was not a curling, fishing, or dare I say golfing phenom; I actually played college basketball and cross-country. True, I now only run when chased by wildlife or if I hear the dry heave of a child late at night in a carpeted bedroom, but once, many many moons ago----I did run.<br />
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I intend to resume running in the "summer", whatever that is here in Oregon, and not just because I have always wanted to rock Columbia workout gear like a boss. I know that running year-round here is certainly plausible. And I can still beat my hubby most of the time on the jump shot game at Chuck E Cheese. <br />
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But so far in adulthood, that is all I have ever needed those skills for. Yes, I could be using them for exercise, but I don't <i>have</i> to do those particular activities, although I do enjoy basketball. I have had thoughts of coaching girls sports, but so far I am busy with my own minor league home school. <br />
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So that summer, I had a choice to make. I was a forensic psychology major in my first year of college, away from home, and sort of hated it. I loved the people I met, I hated college athletics, and although I can solve cases on "Forensic Files" like an armchair quarterback, I just didn't have the heart for serial killers.<br />
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I tried. It still interests me a bit, how depraved we are without God and capable of awful destruction, almost like gawking at a car accident on the side of the road. But something was softening me, and I had a longing for a simpler, purer life. I didn't really care about having a career. I had met my husband and we were engaged, and God was pulling me ever closer to Himself. That summer, shortly after I got home from college, in the bedroom I poured out my heart before the Lord like I never, ever, had before, and He saved my soul. Where there was fear. . . there was peace. Where there was anger. . . there was peace. Where there was condemation before a holy and just and almighty GOD, there was now. . . sweet, sweet peace. And there was joy. "Joy unspeakable and full of glory", as the Bible says, as He took the weight of the world off my shoulders and placed it on His own. And I have never been the same.<br />
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My heart was so softened by Him, softened toward those in need. My name means "helper or defender of mankind", and I found myself enrolled in social work classes. I was a natural fit and my instructors said this to me often. But I can't take an ounce of credit for it. I feel, truly, like God gave me some discernment, simply to be of some usefulness to Him. And until He saved me, softened me like a potter pouring water over a hardened lump of clay and shaping and reworking it----I would have been of little use in a helping profession.<br />
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Participation in athletics, for all of its health and life skills benefits, has one unfortunate drawback: ME. It is about ME ME ME ME ME. And it helped swell ME to an unbelievable point of almost no return. I was sort of a big fish in a little pond, but I had never been outside the pond. And when the Lord saved me, it wasn't about "me" anymore. It is about Him. It is still far too much about me, I am very ashamed to say. But I could only see ME and my needs until He changed all of that.<br />
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My first "real" job wasn't a glamorous gig. I worked for $8.02 an hour for the Department of Human Services as a "Job Club Coach." I taught a class for those required by welfare regulations to get a job, on how to find and keep a job. I had probably two hundred people come into my class over that time, where I did the best I could, at 21, to teach them about a life I was just starting to learn about. In my class we did resumes and job interviewing skills, but we also talked about life. I tried to show them what I saw in them----that they had WORTH. I knew that they were beautiful people created by a God who loved them, and gave them gifts and talents and cared for them. But most of them could never see that. They told me stories of the most burdensome lives you probably, unless you have done social services, could even imagine. Abused as children, as spouses, and making mistake after mistake in an effort to deal with it all. I was young and I had heart and enthusiasm, and that still wasn't enough.<br />
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And yes, I was conned, and lied to, and a victim at times of the self-preservation of the desperate. One wonderful man I worked with said, "They don't lie. They are just mistreating the truth." <br />
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I realized that without God shining light into their own darkness, just as He had done for me, that they could not see. And I was in a government position that was not conducive to carrying out my duties that way. I couldn't do it that way anymore, watching hurting people and not telling them that "the hope that lies within" me is their only hope, too.<br />
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I had other jobs, more education, and eventually had my first child on my second to last day of work, and never looked back.<br />
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In that summer of decision, I felt I had let a lot of people that loved me and are loved by me, down. I felt like I had quite a few people wanting me to go on, to be a slightly bigger fish in a slightly bigger pond, and to become more of a worldly success. I had left a good private college and was enrolling in a community college, and my ego took a much-needed hit.<br />
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But in that fateful summer decision, I chose a path less traveled by. I chose a path to work with the downtrodden and the undervalued, and not until tonight in my kitchen did I see why.<br />
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You see, sports gave me confidence----in me. But working with the poor gave me confidence in Him. I was powerless in my job to make a difference. The only way I made a difference is when I relied on God to give me wisdom, and strength, and prayed for my clients (which I never ever did enough). I was sometimes in precarious situations where my safety was threatened beyond what I was accustomed to, and I had to trust that God had me in the palm of His hand.<br />
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And here I am, 17 years later, laboring beside my husband in a work where we are surrounded by the under-served poor. I feel like what God is teaching us is that our job is to live the Sermon on the Mount. To give freely, to love deeply, to get in the muck and the mire and let our neat little lives be inconvenienced by the needs of those that need so very much.<br />
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Isn't that what Jesus said to do? Isn't that what He did? He left a glorious heaven by His own choosing and came <i>here</i>, and He gave all,---<i>all</i>---- and looked to His father to provide His needs, in His ways, in His time. <br />
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Are we not to do the same?<br />
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We are to lay aside ourselves, give it all up and do it freely from a heart overflowing with love, not obligation. Not cold, self-serving religion that demands performance, but from a heart softened because of the realization that what little we do have is undeserved. That it is by His grace alone that we weren't abused, neglected, that we had a good education, the support of loved ones, and were born free in a free land, and most importantly (if you have been saved), that He saved you in spite of who you are and what you have done. That if we had to walk in the moccasins of the one before us, we might not have walked as straight as they have.<br />
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This is what we should look like, brothers and sisters. James said that "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." The fatherless and the widow have nothing to give us. It is to be a quiet, unnoticed, unrequited outpouring of God's goodness, (which requires our sacrifice), on those in need.<br />
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Someone is reading this and saying, "But. . . WHY are they poor? Can't they just. . ." and practically chiseling out in stone the rules for being Deservedly Poor.<br />
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In the sermon my husband preached two weeks ago, he said, "When I was lost and undone and came to Jesus for salvation, did He refuse me for the ways I had sinned previously, or refuse me because I was currently in sin when I came to Him? No----I came to Him BECAUSE I was in need, or I would not have come to Him."<br />
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In my kitchen I realized that 17 years ago, in a decision that many didn't understand and I myself could not see the full reasoning behind, that even though I couldn't see it-----<br />
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God did. And He had a purpose in it.<br />
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The greater purpose was not for self-glory, fame or fortune (although we sure did need my $8.02 an hour).<br />
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The greater purpose was to equip me for such a time as this.<br />
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Lord, please open our eyes to the hurting all around us. Help us to take our eyes off of ourselves and onto You and You alone. Help us to trust You to meet our needs, so that we can freely give to those around us. Give us this ability, and increase our faith.<br />
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Your prayers for all of us laboring at Hauser Missionary Baptist Church are appreciated. Love to you all on this Lord's day----<br />
Sandra<br />
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9131549048263608524.post-52495724187404283222014-02-25T09:17:00.000-08:002014-02-25T10:36:08.599-08:00The End of an Era. . . probably.I have, aside from a two week stint right before the birth of my youngest child, changed diapers from the fall of October 2004 until February 18th, 2014. If I add up the days, I have changed diapers for about 3,417 days. That is nine and, roughly, a half a year of changing diapers. Sometimes I just had one baby to change. For about a year, I had three kids in diapers at one time. I think back to that and wonder at how I did anything at all? I was nursing a baby and changing diapers all the time!<br />
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I nursed all my kids too----I figured that I nursed babies for about 5 years total. Nursing, changing, rocking, dishes, laundry, cheerios, sweeping and sweeping the floor, sippy cups, milk allergies, fructose allergies, doctors appointments, pregnancies. . . .<br />
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Well, the last Stotler child, unless God should do things differently than we have planned for, is now potty trained. And it is the end of an era.<br />
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My parenting is changing. I am seeing a tiny bit about how God designed it, a little better than I could see it before. When I was younger I needed all that energy to endure the interrupted sleep, the carrying of the kids around everywhere, the non-stop movement required when a little one starts walking, or putting things in their mouths, or is running toward your couch with an ink pen. <br />
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Now it is refereeing---or it could be. It is teaching self-control, and worse yet, it is modeling self-control. It is teaching by BEING. And as hard as diapers were, this is a different kind of hard. Is it as physically and mentally taxing as days on end of baby care? No, it is not. But it is a drive -you-to-your-knees, seek-God kind of hard.<br />
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My kids are like little flower buds now, when one leaf is just starting to open. I can get a little glimpse of what is inside there, what color it is, or the scent, but I can't fully see the flower because it isn't fully opened yet. And I have to help take care of the flower so that it blooms in the right way.<br />
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And this is terrifying.<br />
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Without God's help and wisdom, I will fail in this endeavor. Yes, parents: without His wisdom, you will fail in this effort. And you can be a child of God, and still fail, if you don't instill His wisdom in your children. But to instill it, you have to have it too. So this season requires less sleep, because I should be praying and studying more. And it requires a quiet physical stamina to "do the right thing" at all times-----and no cup of coffee is going to make that happen.<br />
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So it is a bittersweet end. But I am looking forward to this new "season". I would be lying if I say I don't daydream, and sometimes hold in my mind, each of my "babies" from time to time.<br />
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And my youngest might forever bathe in Johnson&Johnson.<br />
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No bottles, no bibs, no
sippy cups,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No more diapers, just
Pull-Ups.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Wet wipes now used only on
faces,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No planning naps around
going places.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No more Gerber Puffs or
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">You’ve moved on to trucks
and cars,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">How in the world can it be</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My last baby has turned
three!</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No struggle to understand
your words,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">No worry that you won’t be
heard.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Growing up quicker than
the others,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">(Need to keep up with your
brothers).</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Get your own snack and
pick up your toys?</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">You’ve learned much faster
than the other boys!</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Time creeps quietly and
steals away</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Pieces them, day by day.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My motherhood is changing
too,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">We get more sleep, and
there’s less. . . ewwww.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Lots to teach and lots to
learn</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My rank, I find, I have to
earn.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">So get your blankie, and
climb on my lap</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">And let me rock you for a
rare nap.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">The laundry can wait, and
supper can too</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">For I just want to cuddle
with you.</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">The day is coming when you’ll
prefer another,</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">And I learned by raising
the others---</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">That one day I’ll wake
inside and yearn</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">To hold the baby you once
were. </span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Many changes coming to
me----</span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">
</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My little one is wonderful
three. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"> --Sandra Stotler</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">May God richly bless you in your season of parenting. Love to you all on this fine day.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sandra</span></span></span></div>
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<br />Sandra Stotlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08003686310688834703noreply@blogger.com1