tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26952781902500409712024-03-12T21:55:26.876-07:00Meyers on the HoodDiane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.comBlogger362125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-88272125573717287602018-09-20T07:50:00.000-07:002018-09-20T15:05:03.333-07:00God, Grandkids and Sophie the Deer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Reading to 3 of the 5 grandkids before a sleepover with Nana and Papa. And Cooper the professional photobomber.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Living up in the woods near Mt Hood has its perks. We can wander the trails to our hearts content and enjoy the beauty of God's creation with every step we take. Wild life is all around. We also have danger, as we all have seen in the recent Portland news of the cougar that killed a woman across the highway from us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nobody ever said it's safe up here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, except me. I say it all the time when I try to convince friends or family to come stay for a while.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We don't have as many deer up here as we used to 20 years ago. But they will still visit occasionally, stepping quietly into the yard from the dark woods to eat the grass in the yard. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last spring, Rod was walking the trail when he noticed a doe a few yards away, seemingly frozen in a crouched position. It took him a few moments to realize she was giving birth to a fawn. He moved on leaving her to her work, hoping that they would both survive and thrive.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Another day on the trail....a quieter day.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We saw her every great once in a while, and usually she would leave her fawn in the relative safety of the trees when she stepped into the yard. We named the doe Sophie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One day a couple weeks ago, three of the grandkids were up visiting. We had told them about Sophie and </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> the kids wanted to walk through the woods to the creek looking for her. I knew it wasn't likely that we would see her, with three young rambunctious kids, two goofy dogs. And one goofy Rod. He can be pretty loud,too.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But we would have a nice hike to the creek and tire these crazy kids out.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, off we went.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was no big surprise when we walked all the way to the creek and didn't see Sophie. When we arrived at the bridge, Max asked if we could pray that we would see her on the way home. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strike>Well, I GUESS so. If you REALLY have to...</strike> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just kidding!Of course we can. I won't say no when the kids want to pray. (And if I ever do, just punch me in the throat. I'll deserve it.)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So we all knelt down on the forest floor and asked God to let us see Sophie on the way home. We said we knew he was in charge of all the deer in the woods, and he could let us see her if he wanted to. Amen.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When we were finished , the kids and Rod raced across the bridge and began playing around the hollow tree they alway hide in.</span><br />
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Suddenly, I heard Rod shout. He had been stung by a bee. I moment later Gracie got stung and started screaming her lungs out. Rod is allergic and Gracie was hysterical (I'm not gonna lie; so was Rod.) so we started running back along the trail. With all our racket there was no chance we were going to see any wildlife, let alone a skittish doe. And with all the panic we had forgotten our request.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">But God didn't.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had picked up Gracie and began hurrying back down the trail towards the house. Suddenly I began to get stung by bees. I put Gracie down and began pulling at my clothes trying to get those darn bees off me. Gracie was screaming even louder,poor baby. Lilli was crying, scared she was going to get stung, and Max was racing through the trees toward home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Suddenly I realized Rod had stopped directly in front of me and was pointing. There Sophie stood, just a few yards off the trail, as if she were posing for a portrait. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gracie stopped screaming, Lilli and Max stood staring. The dogs were right next to us and never saw her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stood watching us and Gracie asked if we could go pet her; she was so close. No, I whispered. But look what God did.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sophie stood still watching us and we stared back in wonder before she turned her head and leaped effortlessly through the thick trees. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just marveled.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wasn't just seeing a deer in the woods like it is an everyday occurance. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Do you see what God did?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">We couldn't say, "Oh, we were quiet and stealthy as ninjas, sneaking through the forest searching for the doe." </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">No. Pretty much the opposite. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were a loud and unruly mob of adults, kids and dogs, screaming like they were being killed, rushing madly through the woods, making as much noise as possible, snapping sticks with our feet and whipping branches out of our way as we ran to the house for safety.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">That's when God had his doe, Sophie step close to the trail just so we could see her.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is just how our God loves to work. Answering specific prayers for his children. Showing up when it seems the most unlikely. (this totally makes me think of <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Kings+18%3A20-40&version=NLT">1st Kings 18:20-40</a> , when God had Elijah pour water on the wood until it was flooded, making sure everyone knew it could only be God)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Showing how much he loves them by responding. Listening. Hearing as we pray. The little things like asking to see a doe become big things, like learning that God loves you and hears you and answers your prayers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It is building a foundation for my Max, Lilli and Gracie's lives.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;"> A rock solid belief that the God who made the mountains, the woods and all the deer on the Earth loves them dearly (do you see what I did there?) and hears them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">The day is coming, if it hasn't already, when my grandchildren will pray to God and it might seem as if he doesn't hear them and they will not see his quick response the way they yearn to.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I hope and pray that they will remember this day and know that God loves them tremendously, listens intently to them and is always, always working.</span></span><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+8%3A28&version=NLT" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Romans 8:28</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span><br />
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Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-40076228656608536072017-09-22T12:35:00.000-07:002017-09-22T12:35:27.026-07:00"Save us from our si-ans...."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This sound bite is my granddaughter, Gracie, age 3, praying with her Mama. Amy sent it to a couple days ago. Because, the sweetness of it. I can't even.<br />
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At her age she isn't even sure what sins are, but she knows we need to be saved from them. Good for her!<br />
What an unpopular subject! Sin. Who wants to think about them, let alone deal with them? I'd rather watch Netflix and eat cookie dough. That sounds fun. (and fattening)<br />
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But my heart is so moved this morning by our views of sins, both in the church and out of it.<br />
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We want to say it's no big deal. We've been forgiven once, we've accepted Jesus into our hearts. It's done. We don't need to be forgiven over and over again.<br />
We're not as bad as *insert name*, so we're okay.<br />
We'd rather smile and laugh and live our lives our own way. Why do we need to worry about sins? We're not that bad.<br />
A little rabbit trail ...I grew up Catholic and, as a child I used to make up things to tell the priest at confession. Because I could surely never confess what I had really done...<br />
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For God to forgive us, we first need to acknowledge that we even did something wrong.<br />
And we all have. As Romans 3 says "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."<br />
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Let's talk about anything else, the Seahawks game, the crazy weather, even taxes. (ewwww!) We want desperately to forget the repent-of-sins part altogether and move straight into magnificent grace and mercy.<br />
I get it.<br />
I'm a sweeper-under-the-rugger from way back.<br />
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I read this from Charles Spurgeon this morning and it has stung me, in a good way.<br />
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"Let me speak especially to you who desire to find peace with God and salvation through the precious blood: you will do well to make your confession before God very frank, very sincere, very explicit. Surely you have nothing to hide, for there is nothing you can hide. He knows your guilt already, but He would have you know it; therefore He tells you to confess it. Go into the details of your sin in secret acknowledgements before God. Strip yourself of all excuses. Say,<br />
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<i>Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest. (Psalm 51:4)</i></div>
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Acknowledge the evil of sin; ask God to make you feel it. Do not treat it as a trifle, for it is not. To redeem the sinner from the effects of sin, Christ Himself had to die; and unless you are delivered from sin, you must die eternally. Therefore, do not play with sin. Do not confess it as though it were some venial fault that would not have been noticed unless God had been too severe; but labor to see sin as God sees it, as an offense against all that is good, a rebellion against all that is kind. See it to be treason, to be ingratitude, to be a low and base thing.<br />
Never expect that the King of Heaven will pardon a traitor if he will not confess and forsake his treason. Even the tenderest of fathers expects the child to humble himself when he has offended and he will not withdraw his frown from him until with tears the child has said, "Father, I have sinned."<br />
Do you dare to expect God to humble Himself to you, and would it not be so if He did not constrain you to humble yourself to Him? Would you have Him ignore your faults and wink at your transgressions? He will have mercy, but He must be holy. He is ready to forgive, but not to tolerate sin. Therefore, He cannot let you be forgiven if you hug your sins, or if you presume to say, "I have not sinned." Hasten, then, seeker, hasten, I pray you, to the mercy seat with this upon your lips, "<i>I am poor and needy, I am sinful, and I am lost; have pity on me," </i>With such an acknowledgement, you begin your prayer well, and through Jesus, will prosper in it."<br />
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Well stated, Mr. Spurgeon. Well stated.<br />
Have you ever "hugged your sin?" I know I have. I pray that these words convict you as they have me.<br />
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-36028724630080720202016-10-07T11:56:00.000-07:002016-10-07T11:59:41.491-07:00Outta ControlI really wanted to title this "Rolling Stones" but Rod would probably not like that plan, and I should be nice to the patient.<br />
Apparently being kind is expected behavior unless you are Kathy Bates in "Misery" or Nurse Ratchet in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."<br />
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<br />
Which I may be.<br />
<br />
Anyway, right now Rod has a few kidney stones that really need to pass. This was confirmed by his doctor, a ct scan and, most importantly, by his wife.<br />
<br />
I was able to diagnose him accurately after listening to his symptoms and hearing his declarative statement that he was sure it was a pulled muscle in his back.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I did do some valuable research. I watched Jeff Foxworthy do a spiel on Youtube and read what a friend posted about her husband on FaceBook when he had kidney stones.<br />
Also, not to brag, but I have watched most seasons of Grey's Anatomy. So, basically I am as close to being a medical professional as you can get without having actually attended medical school or having any experience whatsoever.<br />
<br />
I am <i>that</i> good.<br />
(FYI I am accepting new patients on a first come, first serve basis, and will make phone or Facetime consultations as needed. Call me.)<br />
<br />
Rod is not in that stage of severe, excruciating pain that people talk about afterwards with wide frightened eyes and the trembly voice of someone who has been through a war or had a near-death experience. (yet.)<br />
Who knows, this may just pass (wink) with nothing more than the sore kidneys he has now. Hoping and praying for that.<br />
But it is irritating waiting, right? We keep reading online,( thank you, Dr. Google) and listening to friend's advice about drinking gallons of lemon water and chugging apple cider vinegar. Rod especially loves that. Mmmm-mmm.<br />
<br />
The bottom line (chuckle) is that we cannot control when these tiny little jagged ninja death stars come out. We can just keep on trying whatever we can to help the process along.<br />
<br />
I think that is one of the things that bothers us the most in life; lack of control.<br />
<br />
Like these dratted kidney stones.<br />
<br />
Or like when you move to the shorter grocery line, and the longer one you were in previously finishes first.<br />
<br />
Or when you put your socks in the dryer and you are missing one when they come out. (I firmly believe in a parallel universe where they get all our extra socks that we are missing. It makes sense, right?)<br />
<br />
Or, um<i> HELLOOOO...</i>the election. Totally out of control.<br />
<br />
Or when the kid you raised as best you can gets a divorce and suffers the consequences along with his children.<br />
<br />
Things happen.<br />
<br />
You do the best you can, try everything you can think of, but you still get kidney stones, pick the slowest line, lost the socks, watch your kids suffer. And our presidential candidates are still Trump and Clinton. (I literally woke up in tears about the election this morning. True story.)<br />
<br />
These things are what we are going through right now, and you may be enduring much worse. I'm so sorry if you are.<br />
<br />
So many times I wake up in the morning or go to bed at night completely overwhelmed with feelings of pain as I think of my grandbabies crying for their dad, or asking for their mom, and wondering how Christmas morning will look now, and how this will affect their <i>entire</i> lives and what are we going to do?? and how can I make this better?? and I just need to fix this NOW! How can I fix this?<br />
<br />
And as I spiral out of control I run straight into the wall of "I have no control."<br />
Zero.<br />
<br />
And then I turn, and careen straight into the arms of the only One who <i>does</i> have control, and who loves and cherishes us beyond description.<br />
<br />
I have a soft place to fall.<br />
<br />
An ear that hears my cries. (he hears me!)<br />
<br />
Eyes that look on me with compassion for my pain. (He sees me!)<br />
<br />
A voice that answers me with wisdom. (His word!)<br />
<br />
Arms that comfort me and bring me peace when NO.THING. else can.<br />
<br />
He keeps track of our sorrows and a stores up our tears in a bottle. Psalm 56:8.<br />
And our names are engraved on his hands. Isaiah 49:16<br />
<br />
He has a plan. He has a purpose and we are the apples of his eye and the treasures of his heart He has a love for us that fills up all the galaxies in the universe and <i><b>he will not let us fall</b></i>.<br />
<br />
When I ponder on these truths and remember whose I am, I can breathe a sigh of relief.<br />
No, I am not in control.<br />
<br />
Probably even less than I think.<br />
<br />
But the God who sees me and hears me is.<br />
And he loves me.<br />
<br />
<span class="text Matt-11-28" id="en-NLT-23464" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Then Jesus said, <span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="text Matt-11-29" id="en-NLT-23465" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"> </span><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="text Matt-11-30" id="en-NLT-23466" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"> </span><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” Matthew 11:28-30</span></span>Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-48236288539459654432016-09-15T12:09:00.002-07:002016-09-15T12:09:58.062-07:00Praying for super powers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5IAYjrM7pwbukhmxJUhPeGh9CfICwMXtWa9ytR93bYDygWjiVhQw0cT-8E5m-y_id0jD08_3LOB453MbG7KHFbKnecWciCAr3odlXR9qXdGTP6ce1JL7adJNhx6I-2NfUuqnpI4ofiw/s1600/iStock_85343303_SMALL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5IAYjrM7pwbukhmxJUhPeGh9CfICwMXtWa9ytR93bYDygWjiVhQw0cT-8E5m-y_id0jD08_3LOB453MbG7KHFbKnecWciCAr3odlXR9qXdGTP6ce1JL7adJNhx6I-2NfUuqnpI4ofiw/s400/iStock_85343303_SMALL.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
When I was little, I was obsessed with superheros. I wanted to have their super powers.<br />
Like invisibility, or being a human torch and throwing flames everywhere. But I especially wished I could of fly. Swooping through the skies was my dream.<br />
All four of my sisters come down on me pretty hard when they found out I convinced a little neighborhood boy that I really could fly. I jumped off a garden wall over and over again trying to show him how I hovered and floated.<br />
It was fun while it lasted. (and I really think I may have taken longer to hit the ground than everyone else.They just pretended not to notice. Jealous, much?)<br />
<br />
My grandson Max brings all the joys of my young super hero days right back. We play all kinds of magical games out in the green woods behind our house, using sticks as pretend flaming swords or lasers and crouching behind stumps while hiding from all our powerful and scary enemies.<br />
When asked a couple weeks ago what super power he wishes he could have, he replied "running really fast" without hesitation.<br />
And if he could be an animal, he would be a cheetah, apparently because of their great speed.<br />
<br />
What? Not flying? I never doubted he was my grandson until that moment.<br />
<br />
But, his answer reminded me of Elijah in 1st Kings and how God strengthened him so he could run back to the city ahead of King Ahab and his horses and chariots, so I was able to share that with a wide-eyed Max before we plunged back into the forest to play.<br />
<br />
This morning I have been praying for a couple friends fighting cancer, friends struggling with deep issues in their families, family members, healing for marriages, celebratory prayer for a friend who is going to be a Nana, and for a close friend heading off on a short mission trip today.<br />
I'm always praying for unexplained healing, supernatural wisdom, unbelievable peace that can only come from Jesus.<br />
How about praying to control my tongue and maybe keep my lips shut rather than spouting every word in my brain right out of my mouth. Talk about super powers!<br />
<br />
It is the best feeling in the world to be able to pray to a God who, not only loves us beyond reason, but is the only real super-hero I know of. He takes care of us daily and rescues us constantly. He doesn't forget about us and our names are written on his hands. He listens to us, defends us and fights for us. We are his and he is ours.<br />
<br />
It is completely mind-blowing the way that God shows himself to us, both through answered prayers and through things we've never thought to pray for.<br />
<br />
The universe is full of creative, astonishing things that God has gifted us with.<br />
<br />
The sun...placed in exactly the right spot so we don't burn or freeze, but just enjoy it's light and warmth.<br />
<br />
Rain... A drink of water from the sky. Oregon is so green because we get enough of it.<br />
<br />
Clouds... they shade us from scorching days and encourage us to look up and daydream.<br />
<br />
Snow...Really?? Fluffy, frozen goodness that floats down from the sky. We play in it, walk in it because nothing is so hushed and beautiful as a nighttime snow walk with your loved ones. And it piles up in the mountains giving us more water in the dry summer months.<br />
<br />
Things growing in the garden...talk about superpowers! We throw tiny seeds in the poop-fertilized dirt and radishes, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes miraculously spring to life. For our benefit! And the flowers! For pure enjoyment.<br />
<br />
The ocean filled with sea-life...We still don't even know everything that is down there!<br />
<br />
Our own human bodies complex beyond belief...just ponder the miracle of the human eye and how it works for a minute. Or our tastebuds.<br />
<br />
Mind. Blown.<br />
<br />
When I think back on my days of dreaming of super-powers, I am so very thankful for a God who is not limited by our human imagination, but continues to astonish and delight us with his magnificent displays of creation.<br />
<br />
Do I still wish I could fly?<br />
<br />
Duh.<br />
<br />
What super-miraculous things come to your mind when you think on the goodness of God?<br />
<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/AVvXsEhCunLun2KGy4cQia1A9GkKebtOYOGFPyzbx0b56wSMB20rbtaQrp4n1iZnq9VZPi-AGT85L4S0fjH-S5YjSpsenJy32ZNNReITk39CbPrlEcddnZeYnSEYLm1zxS-lhH_F2aqJXI4Npm0/s1600/14388949_10154487435634289_2023765857_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCunLun2KGy4cQia1A9GkKebtOYOGFPyzbx0b56wSMB20rbtaQrp4n1iZnq9VZPi-AGT85L4S0fjH-S5YjSpsenJy32ZNNReITk39CbPrlEcddnZeYnSEYLm1zxS-lhH_F2aqJXI4Npm0/s400/14388949_10154487435634289_2023765857_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max at the beach, displaying his super-power of cuteness.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCH7vfUe_hPGTEaT6U3R5o1SiWvvmLD83z3-YAlS1ZgbKJW6o6GJXeBfWdbXcxWBjQA2pBBKSrbPCDtn8l113_VJ-b98Eh1qCcnAP0YW1IFB7CU6WhF2ghnZRgR4Z8DGLWLCh4cGCtUc/s1600/14389046_10154487434614289_1520694530_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCH7vfUe_hPGTEaT6U3R5o1SiWvvmLD83z3-YAlS1ZgbKJW6o6GJXeBfWdbXcxWBjQA2pBBKSrbPCDtn8l113_VJ-b98Eh1qCcnAP0YW1IFB7CU6WhF2ghnZRgR4Z8DGLWLCh4cGCtUc/s400/14389046_10154487434614289_1520694530_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max camping and just being his super-hero self.</td></tr>
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-41697190867775637562016-08-29T09:48:00.000-07:002016-08-29T09:50:29.909-07:00Happy Anniversary??<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4TVMcHyy-afzBMcCK67lOm2qnyF35DR_2-ttPlcVGOJZedFRriBEP7yrVvU60Oo-cxesZjfSgCozS74DIoIg0ZVuYxTmBphvZs_SHq-IadRBPxRs1jB0KmjQwAoKph4bN32r8akTmC8/s1600/gatsbycheers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4TVMcHyy-afzBMcCK67lOm2qnyF35DR_2-ttPlcVGOJZedFRriBEP7yrVvU60Oo-cxesZjfSgCozS74DIoIg0ZVuYxTmBphvZs_SHq-IadRBPxRs1jB0KmjQwAoKph4bN32r8akTmC8/s320/gatsbycheers.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Yesterday was our 34th anniversary and we celebrated with our typical over-the-top style; a flash mob dancing it out to our favorite Bruno Mars song(sung live by Bruno Mars, of course, sparkling champagne flowing for everyone, rainbows with a pot of gold at the end, flying ponies with glitter on their wings. And chocolate everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
OR...<br />
<br />
<br />
Our day actually began with blueberry buttermilk pancakes and bacon. Because bacon makes everyday a celebration.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2B1fzIuDt5kvScbnbZHeaeFvVXyZeVvXaKUWpYZrHiF6eBhF6j2jThGZX31G_l4mYhaykNqsA08gCAf1ll0OKkdOAA1EC_AKYM-6kA-vnWGSEZBJcvJG8l1AYgc8FGvS_hX3Y9zNU9E/s1600/RodandDiane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2B1fzIuDt5kvScbnbZHeaeFvVXyZeVvXaKUWpYZrHiF6eBhF6j2jThGZX31G_l4mYhaykNqsA08gCAf1ll0OKkdOAA1EC_AKYM-6kA-vnWGSEZBJcvJG8l1AYgc8FGvS_hX3Y9zNU9E/s320/RodandDiane.jpg" width="320" /></a>And that's when everything began to crumble.<br />
<br />
A casual conversation quickly turned heated and angry words were said(loudly) tears were shed (I handed him a Kleenex) (just kidding) and one of us began to walk away angry and silent, pancakes and bacon left on the counter. No one was hungry anymore.<br />
<br />
Yep, arguments still happen even after 34 years of marriage, even on days of celebration. Or on the way to church. Sorry to disappoint all you youngsters.<br />
<br />
What has changed over the past decades is learning the rules to argueing.<br />
<br />
We each have our own way of dealing with conflict; Rod is a stonewaller and I am an exploder.<br />
Take a moment and imagine how well that works out.<br />
<br />
Here is a list ofpretty straight forward rules that we mostly try to follow because we both have the same goal of resolution, <i>not simply winning a point or even the argument.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m4Dx6aYzEJZRE4HlGsdu9O-XF3OUEb9-P0l3jgDz5j0YAoWgOO-1ZUQV840bHJo4TszJZ9JVIkZD1hObjjrz-MtaOAatoMe1QlqQoDA83r0_Fu9qBflCULXGpGAdE_bXzeDyOlrZ0dQ/s1600/10RulesForFairFighting1-419x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m4Dx6aYzEJZRE4HlGsdu9O-XF3OUEb9-P0l3jgDz5j0YAoWgOO-1ZUQV840bHJo4TszJZ9JVIkZD1hObjjrz-MtaOAatoMe1QlqQoDA83r0_Fu9qBflCULXGpGAdE_bXzeDyOlrZ0dQ/s640/10RulesForFairFighting1-419x1024.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
I am not saying we always perfectly follow these rules, but we do try, and it has become easier as the years pass. And because we practice so much. :-)<br />
<br />
Side note:And seriously? Who can argue without sarcasm? That should almost be against the law. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(kidding...I'm only kidding.)</span><br />
<br />
I would also add a few things, such as:<br />
<br />
Do recognize that anger is a secondary emotion, usually caused by feelings of rejection, being attacked or threatened. Do try to figure out which one so the anger can be addressed.<br />
<br />
Don't let your primary goal in an argument be to WIN.<br />
<br />
Do try to argue the point from your partner's perspective. (This works! Someone who's initials are ROD may have done this yesterday! He slayed it!)<br />
<br />
And it must be said that we are, first and foremost, trying to please God, not ourselves. Not always, and we constantly have to redirect ourselves, but that would be the mission statement for our marriage.<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm done. This is sounding way too psycho-babbly for me to be comfortable with.<br />
Just wanted to give a shout out to all the young marrieds who think we should have it all figured out by now after 34 blissful years.<br />
Nope.<br />
Not even close.<br />
We just keep working on it.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6a5txDvEWcwFVn4AN1yQXlMSEsFdBG6gdjxb1iJ2FtSvHFdDIfei-RMuOIehZOI8SjOsLJ7rVG6wIq_iz-0GrkhVcqB3pabQ8x3msvXcSgJMcD38Fgxg3yiS4RYPDpTd4zis13zINMo/s1600/12998528_10154087884169289_7932338334728881207_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6a5txDvEWcwFVn4AN1yQXlMSEsFdBG6gdjxb1iJ2FtSvHFdDIfei-RMuOIehZOI8SjOsLJ7rVG6wIq_iz-0GrkhVcqB3pabQ8x3msvXcSgJMcD38Fgxg3yiS4RYPDpTd4zis13zINMo/s320/12998528_10154087884169289_7932338334728881207_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-90743145046566863442015-10-29T10:02:00.000-07:002015-10-29T10:02:32.259-07:00#Killin'it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_UHT04TXeGLP8yPf_NVgLSQDknfRNyQXl1k-33zZEa9OOmU-uLlGexFVKAGZoYp097s0H1hEI4u18XU_ryENIse8OXEpHb4TjLIunYi7jir2WqW2AS2uuplChXkF_EsoHXpJ2SNwc1E/s1600/DSC05506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_UHT04TXeGLP8yPf_NVgLSQDknfRNyQXl1k-33zZEa9OOmU-uLlGexFVKAGZoYp097s0H1hEI4u18XU_ryENIse8OXEpHb4TjLIunYi7jir2WqW2AS2uuplChXkF_EsoHXpJ2SNwc1E/s320/DSC05506.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I made oatmeal in the pressure cooker this morning for Rod. (Gosh, that is absolutely captivating!! Please, tell us more!! What happened next!!)<br />
Honestly, I think it takes twice as long to make it in the pressure cooker as it does on the stove top. But it makes less of a mess so I am a fan.<br />
<br />
We like steel cut oats so it's gonna take a while no matter what. But this morning I remembered to put in the 1 3/4 cups water which I forgot to remember yesterday, which ended badly. Rod ate stale toast for breakfast yesterday before he headed out to put in a day's hard work.(Are any of you even still awake?)<br />
<br />
But, while he was gone it was "Yay! Hair cut/color day is here! Yay"<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwXAYoy4namEGgsGDwG9HOoW7U_BFz1Ej3cI2LHFC97cF2HzkiupccgCOBbpG-bX54UODKDcsVPwHwyB6vuhh9wEsEXBoOGA6jJQPrVJYFAF1qtK1DCs-xRfmWG6YG0hoHARfFjiRhus/s1600/IMG_0168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwXAYoy4namEGgsGDwG9HOoW7U_BFz1Ej3cI2LHFC97cF2HzkiupccgCOBbpG-bX54UODKDcsVPwHwyB6vuhh9wEsEXBoOGA6jJQPrVJYFAF1qtK1DCs-xRfmWG6YG0hoHARfFjiRhus/s320/IMG_0168.JPG" width="240" /></a> I always like getting my hair done, especially because it is my friend, Jen, who does it.<br />
And I haven't spent much friend time with her for a long while.<br />
She has been working on starting up a side business,<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Vintage23-543447922350542/">Vintage23 </a>,and apparently has been quite busy! With important things!<br />
<br />
So what, I have to pay her for her time? No big deal. She is worth it. I am not quite sure what that says about our friendship,though.<br />
Hmmmmm.<br />
But never mind! It was hair day!<br />
<br />
FYI, friends. Clear, concise communication is vital when speaking with your stylist. I went in with <i>very</i> precise instructions: "I want you to make me look 10 years younger and 10-50 lbs lighter. And I want to look like a rockstar.And I need for you to erase all my cares and worries for the day. Ready? Go."<br />
<br />
After I delivered my carefully worded instructions I confidently settled back in the chair, convinced Jen would work her black magic and do exactly as I wanted.<br />
<br />
Everything was fine until I noticed another stylist gently rubbing her clients arms and hands as she leisurely rinsed her hair in the bowl.<br />
Wait, what new, luxurious service is this?<br />
As I turned to look questioningly at Jen,"what is this amazing new service, because, sister, I could <b><i>soohooo</i></b> use an arm and hand massage, she spun my chair so fast my hair whipped into my eyes and I couldn't see the expensive, moisturizing lotions the other stylist was massaging into the tired muscles of her client. And then Jen deftly changed the subject before I could demand for my own hand massage.<br />
"Wow, Such cute boots you are wearing!"<br />
<br />
"Yes, I know, right?" And just like a bird that sees something sparkly, the attention was now focused on these.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8gpyfbaTa5IYp0ly2YU4B5j1470McCQdS11-XjaTsHeVNm4FXwkEqihbk3AbuH62CyoH1yc43DQj2suXB80Lv4fjjRLwMvZb4e0khmYlP4OTs0d060f8xlvkLFMnLLH1fGwQo7Xcc78/s1600/IMG_0070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8gpyfbaTa5IYp0ly2YU4B5j1470McCQdS11-XjaTsHeVNm4FXwkEqihbk3AbuH62CyoH1yc43DQj2suXB80Lv4fjjRLwMvZb4e0khmYlP4OTs0d060f8xlvkLFMnLLH1fGwQo7Xcc78/s320/IMG_0070.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Totally understandable. Because these boots? I can't even.<br />
<br />
But I didn't forget, Jen. I didn't forget. I will get my hand massage. Oh, yes I will.<br />
<br />
Jen ended cutting off all my hair, enough so that Rod didn't recognize me while I was making his oatmeal this morning.<br />
<br />
So, obviously, I must look like a rock star.<br />
Well, an <i>aging</i> rock star.<br />
One who has maybe lived a hard life with weird parties and illegal drugs and creepy, stalkerish groupies and self-assured, morning after mug shots from police stations all over the world.<br />
<br />
So I look like Keith Richards.<br />
Or maybe his mother.<br />
<br />
But I <b>feel</b> like Gwen Stephanie, so that is good enough for me.<br />
<br />
And, I don't want to boast, but I may look identical (I.DENT.I.CAL) to a certain Spice Girl ....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwCRw6alQXg0YxerEa2KVK16v6tpnYS26DJAOs3Efx88cTryY0dHpqf19bJqcVB-3eef-cJJBTZoeym2iRHuBadhJn9fq5Ssws64ahiW75TZKTqW4KjkB_k0cti9DsoFFFkAea091T8Y/s1600/06-Victoria-Beckham.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwCRw6alQXg0YxerEa2KVK16v6tpnYS26DJAOs3Efx88cTryY0dHpqf19bJqcVB-3eef-cJJBTZoeym2iRHuBadhJn9fq5Ssws64ahiW75TZKTqW4KjkB_k0cti9DsoFFFkAea091T8Y/s1600/06-Victoria-Beckham.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Except maybe a couple 2-3 of her. She is so tiny! Like barely human! But, I have to say, I'm feeling pretty darn Posh-spicy, and livin the rock-n-roll life style as I pressure cook <strike>David Beckham's</strike> Rod's oatmeal, sweep my Pergo floors, sip on my frothy cappuccino.<br />
#Killinit.Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-16615548447800945172015-10-28T08:50:00.002-07:002015-10-28T08:50:29.177-07:00No Apologies.It has surprised me, during this dark season, of my seemingly endless capacity for pain.<br />
<br />
Max asked me last week if we could play kitchen, or if I wanted to watch him play MineCraft.<br />
<br />
Without pausing for breath he then told me his mom and dad are getting a divorce. He searched my eyes as he then told me that it sometimes meant that kids don't get to see their daddies because because they live with their mommies.<br />
<br />
My heart broke onto the floor.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbfugPgBS4HPvWDANYWBeR4xdZXwmYREUOio3WGkIbyL9cp3b76q0OEbHjWlz87sQPiPA-lje-vHAk6tVUJxCEb2eKslDIK-Jmbmrko_o0ZafYtVBotVX6eA84Gi3KjwcQec46ZIvvyM/s1600/Broken-heart-broken-hearts-6853604-947-872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbfugPgBS4HPvWDANYWBeR4xdZXwmYREUOio3WGkIbyL9cp3b76q0OEbHjWlz87sQPiPA-lje-vHAk6tVUJxCEb2eKslDIK-Jmbmrko_o0ZafYtVBotVX6eA84Gi3KjwcQec46ZIvvyM/s320/Broken-heart-broken-hearts-6853604-947-872.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Carefully, gently, <i>fiercely</i> I assured him that he would always get to see his mommy and daddy, and also his Nana and Papa and all his cousins and aunts and uncles. We would make sure, MAKE SURE that he and Lilli would always get to be with their family.<br />
<br />
Then we played kitchen and read a book before I packed him up with his red and blue back pack and drove him to school. Lilli and I went inside the cafeteria where all the kids could have breakfast together. I didn't dissolve into tears when I chatted with his teacher this time. Win! I waited with him until school started.<br />
<br />
Then I carried innocent laughy squishy stubborn Lilli back to the truck and snapped her into her carseat. Safe and sound. I wish it were that easy.<br />
<br />
At least I made it to the highway headed home before I released the torrent of tears I'd had dammed behind my eyes.<br />
Damn these tears. Damn this pain. Damn divorce.<br />
<br />
It feels like I have been crying a lifetime and will it continue for a lifetime.<br />
So, clearly I will never be the dainty person that will hold her pain privately, quietly so as not to make any normal situation, you know, like grocery shopping or chatting on the phone into a super awkward scene.<br />
I'm super fun to be around. You should call me! You should invite me to your party!<br />
<br />
I'm not the decorous person who gives a discreet sniffle now and again. Nothing that a Kleenex or two can't take care of.<br />
I will make a great undignified mess of myself as I keen and howl at the scorched earth of it all. (and then blog about it!)<br />
<br />
I want this fixed!<br />
My family is dying and I want it to stop!<br />
<br />
There is no single glistening tear that escapes only under great duress.<br />
<br />
I heave huge hiccupping sobs, and we all know about my Bobbi Brown mascara disaster, snot running down into my wide open mouth, and sounds from "The Walking Dead" coming from way deep down inside.<br />
This is what is looks and sounds like when my heart is breaking. Loud and ugly.<br />
<br />
Can't help it. Won't apologize for it.<br />
<br />
I just wish I could be a dignified griever. It's so much more acceptable. Especially by me.<br />
<br />
BUT...because I'm hurting out loud does not mean I am not believing. I am. I have hope in the future, faith for believing and grace for today.<br />
God is close.<br />
I am still hurting.<br />
I've found he doesn't just magically make the pain disappear, but he is close beside me during it. I can scream and he answers me patiently. I can cry and he catches my tears in a bottle (yes it must be big bottle.)<br />
I break apart and he puts me back together, like the bionic woman, better, stronger than before. Or at least, more empathetic and caring for those hurting around me. I can't look up from under this burden and he lifts my head to look into his face.<br />
<br />
What a blessed relief. What a balm for my ripped-into-shreds heart.<br />
<br />
While I am still aching, I can look into his face, see his deeds, remember each instance of his faithfulness, and I can breathe.<br />
EV.E.RY DAY.<br />
This is what I do. Over and over and over.<br />
I look at <b>him</b>.<br />
I <b>remember</b>.<br />
I <b>believe</b>.<br />
I <b>hope</b>.<br />
I <b>wait</b>.<br />
(and yes, I cry.<br />
I re-apply my Bobbi Brown mascara.<br />
And repeat.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"I have told you all this so that you may have </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">peace</span><span style="font-size: large;"> in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. </span><b style="font-size: x-large;">But take heart, because I have overcome the world</b><span style="font-size: large;">.” John 16:33</span></i></span></span></div>
<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-36043997833312974202015-10-15T10:03:00.001-07:002015-10-15T10:03:25.313-07:00Gadget GirlI think collecting gadgets may be my spiritual gifting. Yes, gadget collecting is a real <strike>sickness habit addiction</strike> blessing.<br />
I don't often get the gadgets first, but, by golly, I'll get them.<br />
My son told me once that he likes to get techie gifts for me because he thinks they may make me feel young.<br />
Anything that helps, I say.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, UPS delivered my new Kindle Paperwhite.<br />
(Thank you, Darrell.) (Yes, first name basis with my UPS guy. Don't judge.)<br />
<br />
I have had a Kindle for years, but the flickering light on the case was causing me no end of aggravation. So, when Rod <strike>gave in to all my complaining and whininess </strike> suggested I order a new Kindle, I pushed the "send" button. That's how easy-peasy it is when your item is already in the cart.<br />
And look at it! Just look at it!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadES-1X919wvln6sMUrKtegQftH8cUudhJTjL7GFNZwEsEdpyppu1gjbzzsJaiJKfL7c5dw9266g2H8vzW7h3OL3erTMmQJ9acyQNcNxalffZcLHz4_wjiNxtJ-q20LTyUkPsau1Zh8I/s1600/12071553_10153673841584289_335017767_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadES-1X919wvln6sMUrKtegQftH8cUudhJTjL7GFNZwEsEdpyppu1gjbzzsJaiJKfL7c5dw9266g2H8vzW7h3OL3erTMmQJ9acyQNcNxalffZcLHz4_wjiNxtJ-q20LTyUkPsau1Zh8I/s320/12071553_10153673841584289_335017767_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The case was ordered at the same time, and yes, that is a Van Gogh cleverly and beautifully made into a Kindle case. The pretty case makes me happy, as does the Kindle itself.</div>
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FYI, the picture was taken with my iphone, another gadget I am currently fond of.</div>
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Speaking of my love of gadgets, my newest kitchen appliance is the Instant Pot Pressure Cooker. </div>
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I have been using it almost non-stop lately. It does not disappoint.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnh8bIj_SMUDrP5x7AEW03HHZopxJcNiypXSfxHifiDCpoQ_hgefDDbI5liGEsPJ534XMjWjPQtsxopgMS0EGDyeZV_xaa1gAfEdNL1RnQpH-Ne2AYygp17yCGAAFet8QzXiU2DSFp1ao/s1600/12079481_10153666270599289_7510430559847560299_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnh8bIj_SMUDrP5x7AEW03HHZopxJcNiypXSfxHifiDCpoQ_hgefDDbI5liGEsPJ534XMjWjPQtsxopgMS0EGDyeZV_xaa1gAfEdNL1RnQpH-Ne2AYygp17yCGAAFet8QzXiU2DSFp1ao/s320/12079481_10153666270599289_7510430559847560299_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I've made risotto,(Yum!) pork roast(meh) marinara sauce (Yum!) and mozzarella-stuffed meatballs, (Super-yum!) split pea soup (Yum!) Beef curry (Yum!)and apple cinnamon steel cut oatmeal.(awesome sauce and NO MESS!)</div>
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This pressure cooker, not only pressure cooks, but has a slow-cooker function, a rice cooker function and a sauteeing function, so I can use it for all kinds of things. It also says it makes yogurt (whaaat??) but I haven't even looked at making that.</div>
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Yet. </div>
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Next week I want to try making Pho. Can't wait to try that!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdz-JoqaT6UJaYUbBFPShdOb-lX48dhiE9O6_ZNzfP8xumkA5yHw9vKRMECLHtpsqycQSbyeqxZQRPTq91cUyRQcRHrvUCCf_hr9ElibxNUrVA-B_nJ-B2E20ffCjRS54PYM0DbHYKyUY/s1600/8ea0ccdf4e48bdd2aaeff9f606a76df2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdz-JoqaT6UJaYUbBFPShdOb-lX48dhiE9O6_ZNzfP8xumkA5yHw9vKRMECLHtpsqycQSbyeqxZQRPTq91cUyRQcRHrvUCCf_hr9ElibxNUrVA-B_nJ-B2E20ffCjRS54PYM0DbHYKyUY/s320/8ea0ccdf4e48bdd2aaeff9f606a76df2.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
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I am definitely in my happy place when I am either reading the lovely new Kindle or cooking with the new kitchen gadget and let's just say, I've <i>really</i> needed my happy places lately. </div>
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Tonight I'm using the Instant Pot to cook an old piece of meat I found in a bag in the freezer this morning. Is it freezer burned? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll9TywNAFqD-ijy9bOVU8mWKLTQwOMN5I-M-SsO_jBSJRz6Z3tiJSRcLArq1oGM4YguJE_9JJkDkhZxKFoe4sF7FS3eLfd5-z0o07F4aNt8ldULGzAAWkj4lrx0fdLpkeZZv8ekxw950/s1600/11653266_10153673873734289_243977364_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll9TywNAFqD-ijy9bOVU8mWKLTQwOMN5I-M-SsO_jBSJRz6Z3tiJSRcLArq1oGM4YguJE_9JJkDkhZxKFoe4sF7FS3eLfd5-z0o07F4aNt8ldULGzAAWkj4lrx0fdLpkeZZv8ekxw950/s320/11653266_10153673873734289_243977364_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Yes, it is.<br />
Is it beef? Perhaps.<br />
<br />
But I honestly can't tell anymore.<br />
<br />
It might be goat for all I know. (I ain't afraid of no goat.)<br />
<br />
I don't expect miracles from the pressure cooker, but hopefully it will render the hunk of meat into something at least edible, if not gourmet, fork-tender and delicious.<br />
<br />
With all my gadget shopping, I need to save $$ by using the food I already have in the house, don't ya know.<br />
<br />
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If you remember, say a quick prayer for Rod and his "dinner" tonight.</div>
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Ta ta!</div>
Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-88539147147791636282015-10-13T10:57:00.000-07:002015-10-13T10:57:11.086-07:00Hangry Baby Bird<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I was putting a clean bowl from the dishwasher away in the cupboard today, the tears started again, making my Bobbi Brown mascara make thick, black, expensive tracks down my face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ugly cry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(And I don't mean to </span>obsess<span style="font-family: inherit;">, but that mascara is not cheap, girl friend.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I called the dogs and headed into the sun-dappled woods to give God a talking-to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">WHY was He letting my family fall into pieces?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">WHY doesn't He just fix this now?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">WHY do my precious, loved, adored, beloved beyond anything babies ever have to suffer like this?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My knees are weak from the thought and I can't even pretend to stop my tears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The other morning and before I even have a coherent thought, I wake myself up hearing my prayers to God, "PleaseGodPleaseGodPleaseGodDontLetThisHappenPleaseGod...." I told Rod I felt like a helpless, completely vulnerable baby bird in a nest with my mouth wide open in need and continuously asking to be fed.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi6tEl37gn6TkrNlkuzpEZwvszXePGxkMWoBOlXMkxviPih5lgW11nTPlXNeDEw038tpgbRJ-ASCgi_813JgiUP878EWo8X3HqkOLNC0SXf4qozXOuVcY_teQBYvIgddyE6QTLrdTMLY/s1600/2831922543_151c64367e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi6tEl37gn6TkrNlkuzpEZwvszXePGxkMWoBOlXMkxviPih5lgW11nTPlXNeDEw038tpgbRJ-ASCgi_813JgiUP878EWo8X3HqkOLNC0SXf4qozXOuVcY_teQBYvIgddyE6QTLrdTMLY/s320/2831922543_151c64367e.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">That is me all right. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Helpless.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Frail. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hangry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I have a God who cares for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Protects me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Feeds me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> (And pushes me out of the nest i.e. "comfort zone" when it's time. But that is a whole other blog post.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This visual made me think of a verse that kind of talks about that. "<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.8571px;">How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me." Luke 13:34</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.8571px;">It was comforting for me to think of God taking care of us that way, the way a mother bird cares for your babies in the nest.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.8571px;">This old hymn has been on repeat in my heart lately.</span><br />
<br />
<table style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px auto; text-align: center;"><tbody style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<tr style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: text-top;"><td style="box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px 0px 10px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
My hope is built on nothing less</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.</div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: text-top;"><td style="box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px 15px 10px 0px; text-align: center;"></td><td class="chorus" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding: 0px 0px 10px 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All other ground is sinking sand,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All other ground is sinking sand.</div>
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So very true. Although I am beyond sad, devastated, crushed and all the other synonyms that you can come up with, my hope is NOT built or dependant on Josiah and Ashley working out their differences and Max and Lilli living with their Mom and Dad who love them and each other.<br />
<br />
<div>
If that were the case, then my total well-being would be tossed back and forth on a daily basis based on whether my kids were happy or sad.</div>
<div>
Although there is some truth in there; that I am sad if they are sad, and happy if they are happy.<br />
But I know (know know KNOW) that the God who loves each of us is in control of this whole situation.<br />
And yours as well. If you think for a moment that you are in charge, you've got some learnin' to do. No joke.<br />
God is large and in charge and THAT is what I base my hope and future on. He is a happy-making God who walks with me, carries me when needed, and has a plan that is for my benefit, not against me. I can't always see the big picture, but I know who is painting it, and He is GOOD. ALL THE TIME.<br />
Even now, while we're hurting.<br />
<br />
My plan today is to be still and know He is God, pray like crazy and watch and see what He is going to do.<br />
Because it'll be good.</div>
Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-84477126069112118282015-09-24T17:04:00.001-07:002015-09-24T17:23:57.273-07:00Welcome to the JungleOkay it is not an actual jungle. But it does feel like one.<br />
Some might call this a season in the desert, all this grieving and anguish and gnashing of teeth. But , for me, it is the jungle, and it is a dark and scary place to be.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbbUD9XeNf1kEoUI6GKetXqf6hy9_MryqW095xrs360Ej-QXHcLEQhk3SL3zmhrti4uxNfvgMKKQvfrk35W3xG7Q8tGMR8w32Y6i0DKaf8n2f565ZiiZoNw1RbqoWCun1eJxhFyMRyeY/s1600/jungle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbbUD9XeNf1kEoUI6GKetXqf6hy9_MryqW095xrs360Ej-QXHcLEQhk3SL3zmhrti4uxNfvgMKKQvfrk35W3xG7Q8tGMR8w32Y6i0DKaf8n2f565ZiiZoNw1RbqoWCun1eJxhFyMRyeY/s400/jungle.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
The jungle is very dense and we can't even see a few feet in front of us. It is even hard to breathe. There is no trail that we can see there doesn't seem to be a way out.<br />
<br />
<br />
As the month has gone on, we are facing the fact that our son is probably going to be divorced soon.<br />
<br />
Divorce. It is now one of the most despised and hated words in my vocabulary.<br />
Is it common?<br />
Yes.<br />
That does not take even an iota of the sting away.<br />
<br />
(Death is common, too. Does that negate the pain? Not a even a little bit.)<br />
<br />
The word represents the unbelievable pain, betrayal, weeping and fear of the future and what this means for my grandchildren. My precious, loved, adored grandchildren. It can feel like I'm dying inside every minute when I think of them. The fact that I can't fix this could destroy me.<br />
<br />
Our. Family.Is Falling Apart.<br />
<br />
And we can't stop it.<br />
<br />
This hurts so bad that I hear myself moaning from it.<br />
How is a mother supposed to just watch her children and grandchildren in such anguish and not be able to help?<br />
Our prayers to God have sounded something like this: PleaseGodPleaseGodPleaseGodPleaseGodFixthisfixthisfixthisfixthisfixthisfixthisPleaseGodPleaseGodPleaseGodPleaseGod...and on and on.<br />
And He answers us by reminding us that:<br />
we are not in charge.<br />
He loves us<br />
He is good, all the time.<br />
He is faithful<br />
He <b><i>will</i></b> work everything out according to His plan.<br />
He is HERE.<br />
He is the same yesterday, today and forever. (Hebrews 13:8)<br />
Believing these things in our hearts and not just knowing them in our heads has allowed us to look ahead.<br />
He has given us strength to carry us through each hour of each day.<br />
I have been clinging to Him in the middle of my jungle like never before.<br />
<br />
I haven't been handling this the best though, with grace and dignity like I would have hoped. I swear, in my mind I always handle tragedy so much better, with maybe just a tear or two glistening in my eye, a calm demeanor and a few wise words.<br />
Shoot.<br />
Well, if grace and dignity look like laying on on the fir needle and dirty ground in a pile in the woods sobbing my eyes out, or walking down the trails waving my arms around like a lunatic as I shout to God to HELP US NOW!! then I handled it like a boss. (and there <i>was</i> that one night with a bottle of wine. Just keepin' it real.)<br />
<br />
I haven't been able to go to church because the thought of walking in and worshipping with all my people there just wreaks me. Honestly, I feel like my weeping and wailing would scare everyone. I am terribly afraid I would just fall apart in front of everyone and I am scared of that. Oh, and there is no oil for this. I tried them all. :-)<br />
<br />
So, please do not think I am avoiding you.<br />
Well,actually I am avoiding you.<br />
But, don't take it personally.<br />
It's me. It's not you. <br />
This is not my church people's fault; just how I have been dealing with it lately.<br />
<br />
Some things that have helped all of us in the middle of this mud puddle are the kind caring people that have come alongside of us and loved us. Notes and messages, phone calls and texts, flowers, hugs, meals, books and other encouragement. Just grieving/crying with us sometimes has been the best thing.<br />
For all of you that helped and encouraged us during the planning and carrying out of our daughter's wedding; what you did will never be forgotten. We owe you all a debt we cannot repay for the thousands of details, big and small that you took care of during those days.You made it possible for my family to have a beautiful, meaningful and profound wedding celebration in the middle of our family tragedy. It was truly <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now she is a Blaesing!</td></tr>
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stunning and miraculous, made more so by the way you all took care of us. You carried us when we didn't know how we could do it.<br />
Seriously, God bless you people!<br />
<br />
And prayers. Oh my gosh, to know that you are praying for this family has been more helpful and encouraging than you know.<br />
<br />
For those of you who have jumped head first into the middle of our /mud puddle/jungle with us, regardless of how ugly it is; <b><i>we thank you</i></b>.<br />
<br />
You have taught us by your example how to better help and reach out to those that are hurting around us. You have showed us how to be Jesus to our friends going through hard,life-altering circumstances. We will never forget what each of you has done to make our burden lighter. I hope and pray that I can be the friend to you that you have been to us.<br />
So, I apologize if this post is scattered and nonsensical to you,( and needs editing) but I am just trying to let you know where we are. If you remember, please pray for my son and daughter-in-law and Max and Lilli.<br />
Divorce hurts. But we are learning to rely on God in a new and deeper way, and for that we are thankful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #202020; font-family: normal, 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 28px;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">“We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead.” (2 Corinthians 4:8b-9 NLT)</em></strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-26233395843714588582015-04-14T10:53:00.000-07:002015-04-14T11:02:50.659-07:00Dear Self...<div>
I found this blog post under my draft folder from last winter and thought I'd post it today because I had a big ol' Costco chocolate cake on my counter yesterday. Do you even know how HUGE these cakes are? It is seriously surprising that my kitchen island doesn't collapse under the weight of this monster. (It's surprising I don't collapse after I eat <strike>a half </strike> <strike>a piece</strike> a forkful .)<br />
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It kept talking to me when I would walk by."Diane....Diane....just have a teensy little taste....It'll be okay..." The fork laying right next to it DID NOT help the situation. Who on earth would put a fork RIGHT THERE anyway?<br />
Why can't Rod like chocolate cake? He should eat it.<br />
Truth:Costco chocolate cake is my kryptonite.<br />
Well, it is NOT okay and that chocolate cake has sung it's last siren song. I shoved that entire sweet talking dessert down the garbage disposal. I did that yesterday and it's almost as if I can still smell it. Still taste it.....Oh. That's the frosting still of my lip. Adios, sweet delicious cake. Adios.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(I miss you...) </span><br />
Anyway, here is the post:<br />
<br />
I know you've been under pressure lately. So, what's new? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Finding peace by watching a sitcom? Or Grey's Anatomy? Or a season or two of "Breaking Bad" or "Parenthood.?" Scootch over. I'll watch with you.<br />
<br />
<div>
Looking for comfort in the middle of an All-American chocolate cake from Costco?<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Venting by<strike>gossiping</strike> talking it out with friends?<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Relaxing by reading a crime novel? Or the newest Food Network magazine "The Bacon Issue." (I am not making this up. It is the Bacon Issue.And....I'm back to food.)<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Drinking a <strike>bottle</strike> glass of <strike>vodka</strike> wine?<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Shopping and buying more mascara because it is a new brand and a fantastic new technologically advanced formula which is proven with studies to actually grow your baby lashes to indescribable lengths? Because we all need that.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Spend meaningful hours on Facebook looking at duck-face selfies, pictures of their dogs in the snow, wild animal videos and their freshest grandbabies making spit bubbles.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally pass that freaking level 142 on Candy Crush? (PS. Please send me a life. I'm stuck again.)<br />
<br />
These are all just hypothetical scenarios. Just so ya know.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
But, honestly? Sometimes the pain/fear/whatever is so horribly overwhelming that I will try to do all these things at once. This is not pretty. Or practical. It ends with me having to clean chocolate cake crumbs off the keyboard and/or phone.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Why do all these things I do have to be so bad for me? Why couldn't I go run a half-mary or clean my hall closet with a vengence?<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I am not saying these things are wrong at all. I'm saying that sometimes when I am crushed but not destroyed, I will turn to the fast-food ease of one of these band-aid solutions rather than to the actual healer of my soul.<br />
<br />
Because sometimes I want to avoid pain and so I will muffle it with Candy Crush or..candy.<br />
Do you do this, too?<br />
<br />
I know if I go to God with it, I will have to open up and spill it all, my pain my anxiety my worry my fear my anger my bitterness my sadness my aloneness. And it's <span style="font-size: large;">SO BIG</span>.<br />
<br />
That's right. He wants it all.<br />
And then he'll walk through it with you.<br />
Holding you.<br />
Encouraging you.<br />
Reminding you.<br />
Loving you.<br />
Reshaping you.<br />
(And, yes. By "you" I do mean "me.")<br />
<br />
So that is what I choose to do.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Pursue the Lord by spending time with him. Walking in the winter woods with only the dogs and Jesus for my companions. Praying unceasingly when I wake up and can't sleep again because of worry and anxiety.<br />
Let HIS words wash over me..........<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Turn on music that points me to true joy.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Listening to sermons by theologians that admonish me, teach me and direct me to search out God and live for him.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Reading bible study books that help me unravel the mysteries of God and show my how to wrestle out my salvation.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Go and serve God's people at church in whatever capacity. Serve the community and be Jesus with skin on to people who don't know him yet. What greater happiness than sharing the Good News? Uh, none.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Being still and knowing he is God. Relaxing in the knowledge that he has EVERY.THING in his hands...hands that have my name engraved on them. Ahhhhh.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
All these things earthly, fleshly things promise me peace and happiness. They deliver moments of forgetfulness and numbness. A few minutes of fleeting pleasure. Then I need to watch more, buy more, eat more, drink more.<br />
<br />
Actual joy and contentment are found when I drink from the <i>source</i> of joy and contentment. All the other things are just distracting me from what I really want and need.<br />
<br />
Philippians 4:8 <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
Colossians 3:1-4 <span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits in the place of honor at God’s right hand. </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God. </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;">And when Christ, who is your</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 25px;"> life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all his glory.</span></b></i></span></div>
<div>
And finally, this song is running through my mind and heart this morning... Go ahead; sing with me. I won't judge you.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus </b></div>
<ol style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<li class="first" style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 0px;">O soul, are you weary and troubled?<br />No light in the darkness you see?<br />There’s light for a look at the Savior,<br />And life more abundant and free!<ul style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<li class="refrain" style="list-style-type: none; margin-left: 20px; margin-top: 1em;"><span class="refrain" style="font-style: italic;">Refrain:</span><br />Turn your eyes upon Jesus,<br />Look full in His wonderful face,<br />And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,<br />In the light of His glory and grace.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">Through death into life everlasting<br />He passed, and we follow Him there;<br />O’er us sin no more hath dominion—<br />For more than conqu’rors we are!</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">His Word shall not fail you—He promised;<br />Believe Him, and all will be well:<br />Then go to a world that is dying,<br />His perfect salvation to tell!</li>
</ol>
</div>
Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-60960129177323642372015-04-04T12:57:00.000-07:002015-04-04T12:57:24.031-07:00Shame on you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been doing pre-Easter dinner cleaning at my house today.I'll be honest; deep cleaning is not my spiritual gifting. We have animals who really seem to delight in bringing in their dirt and their fur. Bits of their kibble are spread here and there like canine confetti all over the floor and carpets.(I won't tell you who the main culprit is, but his initials start with COOPER.)<br />
<br />
Combine that, all the horse dirt, the smells and my lack of deep cleaning and you have one of the reasons I hardly ever have anyone over for dinner or coffee.<br />
Embarrassment.<br />
Feelings of inadequacy.<br />
People will judge me.<br />
(Well, that and I am a natural hermit.)<br />
<br />
Don't we all have this to some degree? Maybe not over your cleaning ability (or lack thereof) but something else?<br />
Has it been a long time since you've come to church to worship with your family in Christ? Are you worried about how people will view you? Is it easier to just stay where you are?<br />
<br />
Feeling that you are not good enough can freeze you in place.<br />
The thing is, our embarrassment keep us from doing good things. Our shame paralyzes us and we don't invite people in. We don't want to go anywhere, even church, because of our fear of being seen and found wanting.<br />
<br />
I personally, cannot relate to this at all. But I've heard other people talk of it.<br />
<br />
Only kidding.<br />
<br />
<br />
Some of our shame is really guilt. Deserved guilt. I get that.<br />
But, you do know, don't you, that is exactly why Jesus died. To pay for that thing you are guilty about.<br />
Some of it is stuff Satan makes up and whispers to us, over and over again, in order to keep us chained up. (You are bad, you are ugly, you are a loser, you are a failure, just give up...etc.)<br />
<br />
But here is the thing: This is why we celebrate Easter. He came to bear our shame and sinfulness himself. That is the Good News!<br />
When I look at that truth, I will tend to open up my home and invite people in, pull on clothes that don't fit so great and go to church anyway. He gives us freedom from constantly judging ourselves.<br />
<br />
So, quit looking at your imperfections. Don't listen to the voice that says you are not enough.<br />
<br />
We all need to look at him and quit studying ourselves. (I preach loudly to myself.)<br />
I read this today from "Jesus Over Shame" by Jen Smidt.:<br />
<br />
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 24px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
"If you are carrying the weight of shame, Jesus is calling you to give that burden to him and rest in the new identity he has given you. Because of shame, you may feel unqualified to speak truth into areas where you have influence. Whether you’re a Bible teacher, a neighbor, an employee, or a stay-at-home mom, you lead others. Don’t allow shame to silence you, but instead live in the freedom of Jesus’ grace, which eradicates shame. Don’t use shame to motivate yourself or those you lead. Point people to Jesus, who conquered shame.</div>
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 24px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Christian, from this day forward, choose Jesus over shame, every time."</div>
Isn't that perfect? Choose Jesus over shame. Every time.<br />
Love that.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9XFO1oSk68">This song</a> makes me celebrate every time I hear it. How can we not just sing along and celebrate Jesus this weekend? Remember, take your eyes off yourself and look at Jesus.<br />
Now go to church!<br />
<br />
"Greater" Mercy Me<br />
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
Bring your tired<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And bring your shame<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Bring your guilt<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And bring your pain</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Don't you know that's not you're name<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You will always be much more to me</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
Every day I wrestle with the voices<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That keep telling me I'm not right<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But that's alright</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When others say I'll never be enough<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
</div>
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Bring your doubts<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And bring your fears<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Bring your hurt<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And bring your tears<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />There'll be no condemnation here<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You are holy, righteous and redeemed</div>
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Every time I fall<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />There'll be those who will call me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />A mistake<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Well that's OK</div>
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'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When others say I'll never be enough<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world</div>
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(He's Greater, He's Greater)</div>
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There'll be days I lose the battle<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Grace says that it doesn't matter<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />'Cause the cross already won the war<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He's Greater, He's Greater</div>
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I am learning to run freely<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Understanding just how He sees me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And it makes me love Him more and more<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He's Greater, He's Greater</div>
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<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
There'll be days I lose the battle<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Grace says that it doesn't matter<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />'Cause the cross already won the war<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He's Greater, He's Greater</div>
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<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
I am learning to run freely<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Understanding just how He sees me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And it makes me love Him more and more<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He's Greater, He's Greater</div>
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'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When others say I'll never be enough<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the world<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And greater is the One living inside of me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Than he who is living in the world</div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Read more: <a href="http://www.metrolyrics.com/greater-lyrics-mercy-me.html#ixzz3WN7KDgmo" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #003399; font-family: proxnov-sbold, arial, sans-serif; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">Mercy Me - Greater Lyrics | MetroLyrics</a> </span>Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-80629703200722318712014-10-25T10:12:00.000-07:002014-10-25T10:12:03.087-07:00Dud<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjwuGwBAiaHUfSi2Qfnz5gYd4mC1KZlcYONSVgPDCCHFBS8WGOkoitE0-stEoNrW-EImWA4L8HIvDSvRtyFmrFTGH-hpxEco2eiSYLobVv4yi4r5N00CXw-kCd5E3hmzRX2HZBHkRiVE/s1600/Sparkler2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjwuGwBAiaHUfSi2Qfnz5gYd4mC1KZlcYONSVgPDCCHFBS8WGOkoitE0-stEoNrW-EImWA4L8HIvDSvRtyFmrFTGH-hpxEco2eiSYLobVv4yi4r5N00CXw-kCd5E3hmzRX2HZBHkRiVE/s1600/Sparkler2.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Remember the Fourth of July celebrations when you were a kid and you and your siblings ran out to the curb of the street with your bundle of fireworks that your parents brought home? Remember the snakes and how fascinating it was to watch them grow right there on the cement? (I can still smell them.)<br />
Remember the sparklers and how fun it was to whip them in circles as you raced around the yard at dusk?<br />
Remember all the brightly colored ones that you lit up and then they either twirled around on the pavement or made a noise like a siren? Or both.<br />
<br />
Or the ones that did that shooty thing straight up in the air? (that is obviously the technical name.)<br />
<br />
Or the one that you lit in anticipation and they just sort of spark once or twice and then fizzled out?<br />
<br />
That was called a "dud" and we would just shrug and move on to the next smoke bomb or twirly thingy.<br />
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Sometimes I feel like I'm a dud. Like I spark and then just fizzle out on the sidewalk.<br />
A dud.<br />
A dud for Christ.<br />
Great.<br />
I know I'm feeling that way because I said no to a speaking engagement for next week.<br />
Rod and I prayed about it and for a variety of reasons really felt I should say no at this time. But that doesn't stop the voices in my head saying I messed up. Again.<br />
<br />
Like God will turn his back on me and never ever use me again.<br />
<br />
Do you ever feel like that? Like you messed up so bad that God doesn't even want to look at you?<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things in life...no, my <i>favorite</i> thing in this life is being able to share what God has done for me. How he took a girl who was living only for herself, harming herself and others in the process of being so selfish, and let her know that he loves her and has saved her from herself.<br />
<br />
My story is not really about me. I am definitely not the hero in my own story. God is and will always be. He saves. He loves. He chases me and finds me...a dud.<br />
<br />
So when I get the chance (and I do very often) of sharing my story, I am terrified and thrilled all at the same time. Terrified because I feel very naked and vulnerable while I talk about what I have done. Then thrilled when I get to talk about what Jesus has done...anyway.<br />
I absolutely explode with joy and am just on fire to share how God loves us enough to overlook everything we have done and adopts us in to his family. I so do not deserve that no matter what I do.<br />
<br />
"Baby, you're a Firework" by Katy Perry is playing in my head because that is pretty much is how I feel when I have to chance to let broken people know that God loves them and forgives them. Not usually a song when we think of worshiping God.<br />
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But it fits here.<br />
<br />
The accusing voices in my head need to just shut it.<br />
Zip it, for Pete's sake. Or for mine.<br />
<br />
And I'll go on gladly and happily being a dud for Jesus.<br />
One who explodes with joy on a regular basis over the things he has done.<br />
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-29441052408691160042014-10-16T11:14:00.001-07:002014-10-16T11:14:10.217-07:00Identify<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My good friend is throwing a wedding this weekend for her daughter because her daughter's fiance is getting deployed much sooner than expected. I am aching for them because I know they were anticipating throwing a fantastic wedding and reception that reflected all the love and joy they felt for this occasion.<br />
Right now I wish I had a good eye for design. I wish I could decorate a wedding cake. I wish I could make beautiful centerpieces and help her make the best of a rushed wedding reception. Honestly, I am wishing I were someone else that could actually help them.<br />
Right now I am feeling useless.<br />
<br />
I am going to the place where the reception will be held the day before to assist in setting up tables and chairs,and anything else that needs to be done. But honestly?I am scared to death that someone will unwittingly ask me to hang bunting or arrange flowers.<br />
Oh, the HORROR!!<br />
<br />
I am almost frozen into immobility while I focus on all my short comings.<br />
<br />
This morning while I went on my walk with Coops and Lucy I was praying for my friends and this wedding and this marriage. My prayers turned to asking for wisdom for ways I could help and before I knew it, I was rehashing all the ways I couldn't help because I am not talented or skilled enough.<br />
<br />
Nothing like some lovely ingrown eyeballs.<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
Society tells us our problem is that we have low self esteem and so we go looking and searching for that thing that shows that we are good at something, that we have worth, value and are successful. We need something to give us our identity and worth.<br />
Growing up, I felt like everyone in my family had something they were extraordinarily gifted in, but I could never seem to fine my niche. I wasn't athletic, I couldn't sing beautifully (cough-cough) I wasn't an artist, I didn't do very well in school (cough-cough).Oh, I was skilled at being sneaky. Ask anyone. But I felt I had no identity, aside from being the stereotypical, troubled middle child.<br />
I am truly not writing this to garner compliments and assurances of my skills and worth. <strike>But, if you feel led...</strike><br />
(Just to clarify:I am obviously not trying to say I have no worth or value what-so-ever. I am a Jesus-loving, goat whispering, dog walking, duck chasing, stall cleaning,ferocious Mama Bear, fluffy Nana-bread and best friend to the best guy ever. It's just that those things don't help my friends out when they are trying to throw a wedding that means a great deal to them. So, I wish I could decorate a cake right now. That's all.)<br />
<br />
It wasn't until I met Jesus that I found my true identity. What a huge sigh of relief!<br />
<br />
God, who is all-powerful,compassionate, eternal, faithful, a consuming fire who became man chose and adopted<b><i> me</i></b>, the stereotypical, troubled middle child with no discernible skill or talent.<br />
And if you believe in Him, then He adopted you as well.<br />
Yeah, I'll take that identity. I'm good. (He does tend to use the weak and the foolish...just sayin'.)<br />
<br />
This morning, while on my walk, I stopped in my tracks and reflected on Jesus Christ and who I am because of Him.<br />
I'm forgiven.<br />
I'm redeemed.<br />
I'm a child of God.<br />
I am a friend of God.<br />
I've been set free.<br />
I can love others because he loves me.<br />
(fyi: imagine each of those points above written in flaming, neon font, italicized and underlined and bold. Because that is how I am imagining them.)<br />
<br />
When I start thinking like this I wonder how I can ever stop gushing the Good News to everyone I see. Seriously.<br />
<br />
I need to quit looking for the good things that can make me feel worthy and look at the good things Christ has done for me.<br />
Instead of finding my identity in my skills or talent or job or relationships I have to find my real identity in the cross.<br />
<br />
<br />
Cake decorating, designing beautiful wedding venues, flower arranging, etc. are all excellent skills to have. Ones I <i>really,</i> <b><i>really</i></b> wish I had right now. But I need to constantly remind myself that my value is not based on having ( or not having) those talents.<br />
Because all those skills and talents will eventually let you down.You'll lose your ability or get older, or people will disappoint you. The applause and accolades will die down and fade away and then you will have to try more and try harder to get them again.<br />
True that.<br />
Here is a song by Matthew West that helps remind all of us who we really are.<br />
Enjoy your day! (and if you are helpful planning last minute weddings, hit me up.)<br />
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-75762062240342623732014-09-18T11:16:00.000-07:002014-09-18T11:16:54.910-07:00ExpectingIn case you didn't see the fireworks, standing ovations, marching bands or the military jet celebratory flyovers, my daughter Amy, had her baby last week. It was a joyous, emotionally charged,laughing-mixed-with-crying kind of week.<br />
<br />
Amy and Jason went to the hospital Tuesday evening and breath-taking contractions had started every minute by 7:30 AM. By 3:00 PM they broke her water and shortly after began Pitocin. By 5, they administered the spinal epidural.<br />
<br />
At 5:30, after an exam, we were told she would have to have a c-section immediately.<br />
<br />
Not what she was expecting.<br />
<br />
Not what we were expecting.<br />
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<br />
But, it all worked out and now we have the most gorgeous dumple in the known world.<br />
<br />
<br />
She has a voracious appetite and a temper that shows itself when she is bathed or her diaper is changed.( Gracelynn, not Amy.)<br />
We love her to the moon and back. (Both of them)<br />
<br />
<strike>When she was 4 years old</strike> When she was close to her due date, Amy began planning her baby's hospital-leaving outfit. She brought three or more choices with her. With matching headbands and booties.<br />
Can you say Fashionista?<br />
<br />
I was there at the hospital when the new, sweet little family was packing up to leave, and there was Baby Gracelynn in her hospital issued onesie and wrapped in a faded hospital receiving blanket.<br />
<br />
All her sparkly, carefully chosen, obsessed over outfits were packed in the car already and Amy was not feeling terrific yet after her surgery.<br />
"She looks like an orphan-ghetto baby." Amy lamented. But, as exhausted as she was, there was nothing we could do.<br />
(Apologies to any actual orphan-ghetto babies.)<br />
<br />
Not what she was expecting that day.<br />
<br />
Amy has been absolutely exploding with joy since Gracelynn arrived. She was <b>so</b> made for motherhood.<br />
<br />
She said the other day to me that she has never been so happy. In fact, she is so happy it scares her. She almost feels like she is waiting for, or expecting, something bad to happen and the joy to be snatched away from her.<br />
<br />
Oh, Amy.<br />
I so understand that feeling.<br />
If we are honest, we all do.<br />
I have felt like that.<br />
<br />
Feeling like I am so happy, but knowing that I don't <i>deserve </i>this happiness. I haven't done anything good enough to earn this happiness.<br />
That something bad<i> must</i> be right around the corner.<br />
<br />
Almost as if I have <i>stolen</i> joy,like a cookie from the cookie jar, and any minute now, when God starts paying closer attention, He'll surely realize that I am happier than I should be, than I deserve to be, and He'll make the necessary adjustments.<br />
<br />
I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.<br />
<br />
Who hasn't felt like that, at some time or another?<br />
<br />
But here is the thing.<br />
<br />
We are <i>God's children</i>.<br />
<br />
Amy, you are beginning to know what it is to have and love your own child. How you would never do anything to hurt her and only want to help her. (sometimes in a frantic, mothery kind of way)<br />
<br />
You are a child of God. (John 1:12)<br />
<br />
<br />
Does this mean nothing bad will ever happen to you?<br />
Of course not.<br />
But it means you will have your Father, a parent, with you through it. Carrying you through it. Never leaving you alone for an instant. Watching you, hearing you, loving you, obsessing over you. (Sound familiar?)<br />
<br />
A Parent that you can trust with your life because He has your best in mind.<br />
Always.<br />
And He doesn't give us what we "deserve." He gives us what is <i>best</i> for us. It won't always look like what we think it should<br />
That's for sure.<br />
But He loves us and we can trust Him.<br />
Believe it.<br />
<br />
So let me just end with this.<br />
(And, yes. I know you already know all this stuff. But we have to remind ourselves of it all the time. Daily.<i>Hourly</i>, if possible. Because we are only human beings and we <i>all</i> forget to live like we know it; like we believe it.)<br />
<br />
Believing in Jesus is the only religion where you aren't accepted because of how good a life you lived, or how many rules you follow, or how much money you give,how often you attend church, or how many orphans you feed. You are not accepted because of how good you are.<br />
<br />
You are loved simply because you believe in Jesus Christ.<br />
<br />
Nothing. Else. Counts.<br />
<br />
You are His and He is yours. Forever.<br />
<br />
All other religions say that God saves the worthy. If you want God's blessing and God's salvation, you must be <b>worthy</b> of it and live a particular kind of life. So, in other words, what saves you is how well you perform and conform to a life of self-denial, love, selflessness, forgiveness, etc.<br />
<br />
<b><i>But.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
Jesus says he came<b> <u>NOT</u></b> to save those who think they are worthy or righteous, but those who <i>know</i> they are sinners.<br />
Paul says in Romans 4 that God saves and justifies the ungodly <b><i>apart</i></b> from anything they do.<br />
<br />
So, Christianity says that we are saved <b>NOT</b> by <i>our</i> lives and how we lived them, but by <b>HIS.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
The crushing burden of having to be worthy, good enough,and trying harder is lifted.<br />
<br />
All of our expectations of what we deserve or don't deserve explode in this vision of amazing, crazy, scandalous<b style="font-style: italic;"> GRACE. </b>Grace means undeserved favor.<br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
It just makes no sense and doesn't seem fair.<br />
<br />
(There are loads of people, sometimes Christian people, who don't like to believe in grace because it isn't fair and doesn't make sense. Grace-haters)<br />
<br />
But it is true.<br />
<br />
So breathe a sigh of relief and quit waiting for the other shoe to drop.<br />
<br />
You didn't get to have Gracie because you did something good and deserve her,and she won't be taken away because you did something wrong at some point.<br />
<br />
Gracelynn is simply a gift from God because He loves you.<br />
<br />
If you forget this sometimes and find yourself working frantically to be worthy of this gift, just look at your baby and think about her name.<br />
Grace Blaesing.<br />
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-38444842781589932952014-09-09T07:11:00.000-07:002014-09-09T07:31:34.019-07:00Letter to my daughter Dear Amy,<br />
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My girl, my girl. My own baby girl.<br />
Tomorrow at this time, you'll be checking into the hospital getting ready to do the hard work of bringing your own daughter into this world.<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
I remember when you were born and, before they even handed you to me, I kept asking if they were sure you were a girl. I wanted you to be a girl so much. I would have asked your Dad, but he was passed out on the floor. I guess that hour or so of labor was a bit much for his sensitive constitution.<br />
<br />
I remember how you slept through the night from the moment we brought you home and I used to tip-toe in to check on you and make sure you were breathing and alive. Scary!<br />
<br />
I can still hear your raspy, little girl voice yelling at your brother when he was teasing you unmercifully. He still does that, huh? But I adored your husky, unique voice so much.<br />
<br />
I'm laughing (and tearing up a bit) thinking of your four-year old, pink Osh-Kosh-wearing self weeping as though your heart was breaking when you figured out how long you had to wait before you could have your own baby. (You also did this when you found out how long it would be before you could drive a car, but that is a whole other story.)<br />
<br />
That day has arrived. (Cue balloons and fireworks and marching band.)<br />
<br />
You always wanted to have a baby and be a mommy. And, now, tomorrow, you'll finally get your wish and your dream. You are going to be such a great Mama. There is no doubt in my mind that God has created you specifically for this important job.<br />
<br />
Amy, your life is about to change.<br />
<br />
You'll begin to learn out how it feels to love with a mother's love.<br />
<br />
You'll find out how it feels to have your very heart forever go walking around outside your own body. It doesn't even make sense, but it is so accurate.<br />
<br />
When your baby girl is happy,you'll be ecstatic.<br />
<br />
When she giggles, you will laugh,too.<br />
<br />
When she cries, your own eyes will fill with tears. When her heart is broken, you'll feel the sharpest pain in your own heart.<br />
<br />
When someone hurts her feelings, your Mama-Bear will be born and come roaring out before you know what even happened. Truth.<br />
<br />
When she accomplishes her goals and dreams, you will celebrate and feel as if yours have been achieved.<br />
<br />
You will be filled up with pure <b>JOY</b> like you have never have before.<br />
<br />
You will be through and through, bone tired like you have never been before.<br />
<br />
You'll learn more about the unbelievable depth and the <i>realness</i> of God's love than ever before. You'll find comfort and joy in prayer like you never imagined.Your thankfulness to Him for this blessing will be <b>endless</b> and <b>new every day</b>.<br />
<br />
You will put someone else's needs and wants before your own. Every.Single.Time. Without hesitation or question.<br />
<br />
Never again will your heart beat only for yourself.<br />
<br />
<i>It's just not safe to love like that.</i> Because, at times, it will hurt.<br />
<br />
But it will be worth it.<br />
No question or hesitation.<br />
It is so worth it.<br />
<b><i>Love</i></b> is always worth it.<br />
<br />
And tomorrow you will begin to see the truth of that.<br />
<br />
You are my heart walking around outside my body, and I love you Lumma Loo.<br />
And tomorrow night, at the hospital, you'll finally get to meet your very own heart.<br />
See you soon, best daughter.<br />
Love, MamsDiane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-43738965623555559952014-07-21T09:13:00.001-07:002014-07-21T09:13:29.414-07:00Remodeler's Log: 07/21/2014It is day five of the master bathroom/bedroom remodel. Up until today we have been not only civil, but kind, patient and courteous. We have kept our sense of humor and encouraged each other.<br />
Well, hello Monday morning.<br />
Today neither of us would be commended on our civility.<br />
Words are direct, short and clipped.<br />Most of the sounds are hammering, drilling and sawing.<br />
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Rod turned his head when I snapped this picture and it is good that the camera did not catch the look in his eyes. I rushed out before he could stop me.<br />
<br />
Yesterday when we went to church I was really looking forward to losing myself in worship with God's family and hearing teaching from the book of Galatians.<br />
On the way home, I confessed to Rod that my thoughts kept drifting off to the estate sale coming up, the upcoming new additions to our family and also which flooring to choose.<br />
He said, "I'm not going to lie. I couldn't stop thinking about the bathroom wall."<br />
Yep, we are that focused.<br />
So sad.<br />
We need to be reminded to be kind, loving and patient with each other.<br />
Especially with all these power tools laying around so conveniently.<br />
Have a great Monday!Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-40947133265078656512014-07-16T10:22:00.000-07:002014-07-16T10:22:46.301-07:00One thing leads to anotherRod came out of our bathroom yesterday and began giving me an encouraging pep-talk.<br />
"We need to be patient and not lose our tempers with each-other. We're in this for the long haul. We just need to stay positive and cheerful. And kind."<br />
<br />
First off, I have no idea what he is talking about.<br />
Second, why do I get the feeling he is really talking about <i><b>me</b></i>, not "us"?<br />
<br />
"Um, what is going on?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"Well, you know how we have been noticing the shower floor getting saggy?"<br />
<br />
Of course I noticed that. I'd been working on ignoring that for almost a year. Making excuses like, maybe I've gained more weight than I'd thought. Maybe I have an inner ear infection and it is making me all wobbly and dizzy. If all else failed, I just sang "LA LA LA-la la LA LA!" with my fingers both covering my eyes and plugging my ears.<br />
<br />
"No. What are you even talking about?"<br />
<br />
Then he opened the door to the master bathroom.<br />
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Just to clarify, I used to have a shower and a whirlpool bathtub right there.<br />
Look, you can see my peony bush out through that hole in the wall. Why does that look like a cat door? I don't even have a cat.<br />
Well.<br />
Apparently we are having an unexpected remodeling project to do this month.<br />
<br />
Oh, and Rod informed me that the wall and floor leading into my bedroom have also been destroyed by the Black Death Mold and we will need to replace those as well.<br />
<br />
Did you know that my bedroom floor goes ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ROOM and therefore my ENTIRE ROOM AND BATHROOM NEED TO BE DEMOLISHED AND REDONE?<br />
<br />
I'm very sorry to shout, but I am trying to hear through my own "LA LA LA LA la la la la LA LA's."<br />
<br />
So, if any of you has any great bathroom or bedroom ideas please send them my way. Because I do not day dream of redecorating. No, this is the stuff my nightmares are made of. This is not my gifting.<br />
I have had to start looking at ideas on Pinterest.<br />
Oh, the horror!<br />
On the bright side, I can demolish.<br />
Look, here is my back deck where all my bathroom stuff now resides until we can load it up and make a happy trip to the dump.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a welcoming retreat!</td></tr>
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If you notice other things among the bathroom stuff, that is because I needed to clear some stuff out of our spare room so I could make space for all the things I will need to store there while we UNEXPECTEDLY TEAR APART MY BATHROOM AND BEDROOM.<br />
LALALALALALALALALALA!!!!Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-8873966986805942802014-06-23T09:55:00.000-07:002014-06-23T12:49:24.819-07:00Duck Wars and other weekend happeningsIt was close, but there have been no injuries and no bloodshed.<br />
On Saturday I went to the feed store to pick up goat chow, fish chow, dog chow, rabbit chow and I even went to the grocery store (on a Saturday! Do I have a death wish?) and picked up a little bit of people chow.<br />
While at the feed store, I saw the small building labeled "Critter Corner."<br />
What could it hurt? I thought.<br />
So in I went, not emerging until I had two more ducks to add to our three at home.<br />
But these are brown ducks and will look more natural in our mountain pond setting. This is the very reasonable argument I practiced in my head before Rod saw I bought more ducks.<br />
When I arrived home, I untied the burlap bags and set the new ducks free in their new home.<br />
<br />
I had pictured the old ducks welcoming the new ducks with quiet beeps and quackings and gentle flapping of wings.<br />
Well.<br />
I did not picture the new ducks catching sight of the older ducks and saying, "Oh, this is YOUR pond? Our deepest apologies. We'll just find a new place. Ta ta and cheerio!" Then the new brown ducks began waddling down the the road, apparently looking for THEIR pond.<br />
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Uh-oh.<br />
So I began to chase them back to OUR pond, which is plenty large enough for five ducks, for goodness sake.<br />
Lucy came down to see what all the fuss was and began to "help" chase them back to the pond.<br />
Such a big helper.<br />
There was loud honking and quacking as she chased them up the creek, and it got quite a bit louder when she caught one. The slower one.<br />
Oops.<br />
I'm sure it was just a <i>tiny</i> misunderstanding. Reluctantly, Lucy let go of the poor duck and I returned it to the pond, safe and sound.<br />
<br />
Until the older black and white ducks began to peck at it with their duck bills and then attempted to drown it by holding it's head under water.<br />
<br />
Not quite the Welcome Wagon I had expected.<br />
<br />
And who knew ducks would hate their new duck neighbors and try to drown them?<br />
<br />
Really, ducks? Seriously?<br />
<br />
Well, things calmed down for a few minutes and then the first wave of neighboring campers showed up. Our neighbors own a couple hostels in Portland and invite their friends and people staying there to come to the mountain and camp in tents and yurts.<br />
They call it Family Camp.<br />
<br />
I call it a time for me to freshen up on my accent skills.<br />
<br />
It has been happening for a few years and is fun for all of us. We enjoy visiting people from all around the planet and showing them our horses, goats, fish pond, Rod's little barn brewery etc.<br />
<br />
(Do I sometimes feel like we are a really elaborate exhibit at the zoo?<br />
Yes. Yes, I do.<br />
Good thing I like the zoo.)<br />
<br />
The only down side of Family Camp is my tendency to pick up whichever accent the person who is talking to me has and begin using it as my own. Like I was born with it.<br />
I know. This makes no sense at all, and I have tried to stop it, but when I get nervous or stressed out in the slightest I tend to talk even more.<br />
Perfect.<br />
So, I was talking to some nice people from Wales and just relaxing and enjoying listening to them talk about the dogs they'd had over their lifetime.<br />
I almost forgot to be worried. I forgot to be vigilant.<br />
They mentioned that they had had a German Shepherd (they called it an Alstasion.) and I heard my self say, "Oh, so you like the German Shepherd dogs, then?" in a proper English accent.<br />
NO!!<br />
Why do I do this??<br />
Arrrrggghhh! (Groaned in whichever accent you have.)<br />
<br />
The first time I did this accent stealing, (that I noticed) was when I was attending my sister's wedding at a posh (see??) place near San Diego. I was in the receiving line chatting with some of the groom's family who seemed to have a Euro-East Coast-Madonna thing going on with their way of speaking. They were talking about a vacation they had taken yachting around Greece.<br />
"Have you been?" They politely asked, although "been" was pronounced "bean."<br />
I have no idea how I replied, except I know it was in their accent.<br />
They all just looked at me strangely, made quietly courteous murmurings (in their funky, citizen of the world accents) and moved away, probably thinking, "Aha! <i>There's</i> the old barmy sister. Every family has one..."<br />
This is obviously something I must work on.<br />
Both the accent-stealing and the barmy part.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, everyone is settled in at the farm, peace is reigning and I'm completely knackered.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close-up, so you can see there are no injuries.</td></tr>
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<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-44892282279575658742014-06-03T10:33:00.002-07:002014-06-03T11:54:42.372-07:00Ingrown Eyeballs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GKm4GVUWqpmGFjinJYRvuE19j4_ROA66TMKu3AmF9Pt8MlHQYhxzxFQHYlm5rmprFwPVtqqaZlGAbKcOxLdtprqTPdRhf3ZNW_Pm2lMcbIq4D8gREkawwlMrv1GT6DSZafuYTBVqoSg/s1600/eyeball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GKm4GVUWqpmGFjinJYRvuE19j4_ROA66TMKu3AmF9Pt8MlHQYhxzxFQHYlm5rmprFwPVtqqaZlGAbKcOxLdtprqTPdRhf3ZNW_Pm2lMcbIq4D8gREkawwlMrv1GT6DSZafuYTBVqoSg/s1600/eyeball.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a>Oh, come on.<br />
You know you get them, too. When you become so focused on yourself and your problems that other things, more worthy things retreat, growing dim and quiet.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So, a couple weeks ago I dropped the <strike>6 ton </strike>5th wheel trailer hitch on my foot. After I had x-rays and stitches, the doc told me it wasn't broken.<br />
Well,great.<br />
<br />
Except it still hurts to to put a shoe on.<br />
It hurts to walk.<br />
Last night, it hurt when I was sleeping.<br />
I think I should re-examine that doctor's licensing.<br />
Did he even pass x-ray class?<br />
<br />
On a daily basis, this means that I can't walk the dogs, or run my loop.<br />
This is where I meet with Jesus every morning. If you have read my blog for any amount of time, you probably know this.<br />
<br />
As silly as it seems, this has made me feel a little abandoned, as though I <i>need</i> the loop in the forest in order to meet with God every morning.<br />
<br />
Logically I know this is not true. In my heart (which is deceitful above all things...I know, I know) I miss my morning times in the forest spent in prayer and fellowship with Him. Somehow I feel like I can't be as close to God if it is not on the loop.<br />
In the woods.<br />
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<br />
With the dogs.<br />
<br />
In the morning.<br />
<br />
And people call <i>Him</i> controlling.<br />
Wow.<br />
Boy, it sounds like everything needs to be <i>just right </i>for me to have any meaningful time with the God who created the Heavens and the Earth, amen.<br />
<br />
Ingrown eyeballs.<br />
<br />
Last Friday, I had to take Lucy,our bullmastiff, into the vet because of a bad infection. They were very concerned and <br />
asked me to leave her there with them. We were all very worried about the possibility of cancer. Certain types of cancer will present themselves this way.<br />
When I came home, Rod was getting ready for a weekend men's retreat with our new church. He was excited to begin building relationships with some of the guys and hear some great bible teaching.<br />
<br />
(enter Ingrown Eyeballs. That's Mrs. Ingrown Eyeballs.)<br />
<br />
"Please don't go...I bet they're going to tell me we're going to have to put Lucy down and I don't want to be by myself." I may have shed a tear, I don't even remember.<br />
<br />
Rod really felt that God wanted him to go on the retreat, promised he would leave the phone on, and come back if I really needed him to.<br />
<br />
<strike>I was so glad that Rod chose to follow God's leading in his decision. </strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>I was so excited that Rod was going to enjoy spending time with new guy friends.</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
I was so mad.<br />
<br />
(Full disclosure: I may have mentioned my unhappiness about Rod's decision to a friend. Not a good idea. Ever.)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3Gdq6b1HrtWx09B2t5Hyg8q16oe3E90yITDB8bg-TK2G1w__xDyxotr9uab6NbD9xS3lFr-6k_39nbRcaFfou6rinCSljADaaLX2KpSrNFR8Ev_PRES3RUMgdDNZJxmLEI3nbiAhLwE/s1600/DSC04157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3Gdq6b1HrtWx09B2t5Hyg8q16oe3E90yITDB8bg-TK2G1w__xDyxotr9uab6NbD9xS3lFr-6k_39nbRcaFfou6rinCSljADaaLX2KpSrNFR8Ev_PRES3RUMgdDNZJxmLEI3nbiAhLwE/s1600/DSC04157.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a>Rod went on his retreat.<br />
<br />
Lucy came back from the vet; her infection being just an infection, at least for now.<br />
<br />
(yay Lucy!!)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This morning, Rod was talking to me about the speaker at their retreat. His wife had had cancer years ago and they had beat it. Friday morning,just before the retreat, they received word that the cancer was back and had spread to a few different areas.<br />
They were still in shock.<br />
They prayed about whether he should still go speak at this men's retreat and his answer from God was a yes.<br />
He needed to be there.<br />
You might think that this man was selfish and should be there for his wife. Or that Rod was selfish and should have stayed home when his <strike>whiny</strike> wife asked him to.<br />
<br />
I say they don't have ingrown eyeballs that are only focused on themselves.<br />
<br />
They have eyeballs that are only focused on the object of their faith; Jesus.<br />
<br />
I say I want to, <i>need</i> to have their kind of eyeballs, their kind of focus.<br />
<br />
In "The Pursuit of God" by Tozer, I read the following quote this morning ,<br />
" Faith is a redirecting of our sight, a getting out of the focus of our vision, and getting God into focus. Sin has twisted our vision inward and made it self-regarding. Unbelief has put <i>self </i>where God should be, and it is perilously close to the sin of Lucifer who said "I will set my throne above the throne of God." Faith looks out instead of <i>in</i> and the whole of life falls into place."<br />
Ouch.<br />
Self-regarding.<br />
<br />
So here is my prayer for us and my prayer for myself. (even if I can't pray on the loop with the dogs in the morning...whatever)<br />
Taken from Tozer, again:<br />
"O Lord, I have heard a good word inviting me to look away to Thee and be satisfied. My heart longs to respond, but sin has clouded my vision till I see Thee but dimly. Be pleased to cleanse me in Thine own precious blood, and make me inwardly pure, so that I may, with unveiled eyes gaze upon Thee all the days of my earthly pilgrimage. Then shall I be prepared to behold Thee in full splendor in the day when Thou shalt appear and be glorified in Thy saints and admired in all them that believe.Amen."<br />
<br />
<br />Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-42351170191341536592014-05-28T09:03:00.003-07:002014-05-28T09:03:56.997-07:00Memorial Day memoriesWhat a great title. I astound myself with my creativity.<br />
I think the highlight of my weekend came when I had to dig the tick from the cozy home it had made on Rod's collar bone.<br />
We had just arrived at Rod's brother's house for a Memorial Day BBQ.<br />
Timing...it's so important.<br />
Rod: "Would you take a look at this? I think I poked myself on a stick hiking through the woods."<br />
Me: "How long has it been hurting?"<br />
Rod: "Oh, about 3 or 4 days.<br />
Me: "Let me see...."<br />
Then shrieking ensued as we saw tiny legs waving from Rod's tiny little burrowing friend.<br />
I told his Dad to quiet down so we could take another look without the neighbors thinking we were being murdered.<br />
(only kidding. only kidding)<br />
The kind host and hostess brought us tweezers, which was especially generous considering we had brought an extra, uninvited guest to the party.<br />
Don't you just love it when a guest shows up with a tick that needs to be removed?<br />
To keep the party atmosphere up, I should have suggested that we all check each other for fleas, as well.<br />
<br />
After much prodding, digging and excavating,I pulled the little critter out. Minus it's head. Oh well.<br />
<br />
Arden, Rod's Dad also took a spin with the tweezers, digging expertly into the skin on Rod's shoulder/neck area. As we worked, Rod began calling out for an alcoholic beverage. But his cries became weaker and we ignored him. Or his brother Doug finally brought him a beer. I don't remember.<br />
<br />
Rod's Dad was able to remove <i>most</i> of the tick's head which had seemed like it might have to become a permanent part of Rod anatomy.<br />
Unlike his beard. Which, in an odd but welcome turn of events, was removed by my friend, Jen, this weekend.<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/AVvXsEhg8FYQvCfKlmZqnJlv9rJIs1wMiLaRJcWTWlfhxYQfbSkk1xmdCELbdeAYjyi3RKYYuRFwbKcywfle2AZDoScWkHHNM7qbHpKgO2LvTVp27wEl-GRsvlcUumf33P02T8qXxLiwVya_vhA/s1600/DSC04065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8FYQvCfKlmZqnJlv9rJIs1wMiLaRJcWTWlfhxYQfbSkk1xmdCELbdeAYjyi3RKYYuRFwbKcywfle2AZDoScWkHHNM7qbHpKgO2LvTVp27wEl-GRsvlcUumf33P02T8qXxLiwVya_vhA/s1600/DSC04065.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jen looks slightly maniacal here, but Rod's eyes scare me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
During a party. Well, a BBQ- get-together. Camp-out. Sleep-over. Foos ball tournament. Clearly, Jen does her best work in the midst of chaos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_FmD73kVnk2OmElUOxhOii0nxKsD337XeNzz3QIt8xOCcIrBUV8OHnDLfcZX5PjIywN5hWp-5mpUyHttqhXm8CjLpe-EV-zyBHDbKSyteqYQZedD_mGWacadxaKSkbAnZF8seEhB5ZQ/s1600/DSC04067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_FmD73kVnk2OmElUOxhOii0nxKsD337XeNzz3QIt8xOCcIrBUV8OHnDLfcZX5PjIywN5hWp-5mpUyHttqhXm8CjLpe-EV-zyBHDbKSyteqYQZedD_mGWacadxaKSkbAnZF8seEhB5ZQ/s1600/DSC04067.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how they are still pretending to be friends? Sweet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It was a family and friends filled 4 day break. My sistah from anotha mutha...(oh, scratch that...same mother) came from Northern CA with her daughter to get a breather. I'll have to ask them how that worked for them. If she ever speaks to me again.<br />
<br />
Well, I'm sure, if you are still awake, you'll agree that this post was absolutely riveting.<br />
Riveting.<br />
You are welcome.<br />
<br />
What? You are disappointed that I didn't throw in a gratuitous picture of the tick?<br />
Well, here you go:<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/AVvXsEgBl1ZZ-2Nd9pMfkNHF9a77m7fygJ2bf_nng_yt3Rqd2iBij3oQC3qvwL28toJngHZT1XKThCWCRfBTGhdHTIg4-UShrx43c_8rm-vTEJgitCgtErg9v5xPo8LTQOZTScwtCjiBUVCfRbU/s1600/tick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBl1ZZ-2Nd9pMfkNHF9a77m7fygJ2bf_nng_yt3Rqd2iBij3oQC3qvwL28toJngHZT1XKThCWCRfBTGhdHTIg4-UShrx43c_8rm-vTEJgitCgtErg9v5xPo8LTQOZTScwtCjiBUVCfRbU/s1600/tick.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not Rod's actual tick. Although his was every bit as nauseating.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And my injured foot, as a free bonus picture:<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/AVvXsEgehqWju6G6Ee7WS_MYZcqcsKwdaw7qi5u-9twBWVzaFhQK_WRj-VRHNhTeLaO0zt_GEB-v5X02qeTk8zaOot5DEZ4s2YhyphenhyphenwRIO3huqGkodiGL3zzzhAtRMLDWMmTdQF1b1WvO3x0C0vAY/s1600/IMG_0272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehqWju6G6Ee7WS_MYZcqcsKwdaw7qi5u-9twBWVzaFhQK_WRj-VRHNhTeLaO0zt_GEB-v5X02qeTk8zaOot5DEZ4s2YhyphenhyphenwRIO3huqGkodiGL3zzzhAtRMLDWMmTdQF1b1WvO3x0C0vAY/s1600/IMG_0272.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I knew I could work this in somehow. I dropped a fifth wheel hitch on it. Yes it hurts. No, it is not broken.And it looks worse now. Please shed a tear for me. It will help.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, there you have it. Don't say I never did anything for ya.<br />
Have a great day. (while you try to remove these images from your head.Using tweezers.)Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-8585574575913352042014-05-19T12:33:00.002-07:002014-05-19T13:14:05.044-07:00Full-on Ugly CryIf you have not read about the son I gave up for adoption and my daughter's successful search for him, read <a href="http://meyersonthehood.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-birthday-prayer.html">this post</a> and <a href="http://meyersonthehood.blogspot.com/2014/05/i-knew-i-wasnt-ready-to-be-mom.html">this post</a> first. Otherwise the current blog post will make no sense.<br />
Which will make it identical to 98% of my previous posts.<br />
<br />
So, Sunday(yesterday) we went to meet the parents who raised the son I gave up for adoption.<br />
<br />
No biggie.<br />
<br />
My resting heart rate has not been below 175 since last Saturday when we all figured out who was who. And that WHO was WHO. Oh, you know what I mean.<br />
<br />
More on that another time.<br />
<br />
These are the actual thoughts (yes, I do have actual thoughts) that ran through my mind yesterday.<br />
<br />
<br />
"This is bad. There is no way around it. Their first impression of me is going to be the full on ugly cry."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPXRlpToUOjKT8l0C7cskGEqlyuTPYD7sJQwuRrVNJSGzgoF0gP6ROGyzydBOGWyt9pz1mKM8QmlLtNporSSgXMzMpJWUg-q3OiPk8B257PZkcldP0GY4w7SAvuu6L6oTwcDHCoPAyoI/s1600/ugly+cry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPXRlpToUOjKT8l0C7cskGEqlyuTPYD7sJQwuRrVNJSGzgoF0gP6ROGyzydBOGWyt9pz1mKM8QmlLtNporSSgXMzMpJWUg-q3OiPk8B257PZkcldP0GY4w7SAvuu6L6oTwcDHCoPAyoI/s1600/ugly+cry.jpg" height="251" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
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"Shoot, maybe I shouldn't have worn make-up..."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0cPkhWC2YNNtLyb-bLUytO1cV7uBAkE3d8NPo6DOsIvCLSFUGV_8N3KTA0g5mxf2GWdA0b0awXF6_2eQnyUgUOyWYCuIdR4qgiclfA2X4GqypyWWzGqzNQjAR1TURoQZaQlMrvVW8qs/s1600/mascara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0cPkhWC2YNNtLyb-bLUytO1cV7uBAkE3d8NPo6DOsIvCLSFUGV_8N3KTA0g5mxf2GWdA0b0awXF6_2eQnyUgUOyWYCuIdR4qgiclfA2X4GqypyWWzGqzNQjAR1TURoQZaQlMrvVW8qs/s1600/mascara.jpg" height="200" width="166" /></a></div>
"Maybe they won't notice..."<br />
<br />
"What if they don't like me?"<br />
<br />
"What if my nervous jokes aren't funny and I laugh manically anyway?And can't stop? And sound like a wounded hyena? "<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCM252kzXL14xocnj7JmYN2YKQ8YC04tAoFxoEE_H4NMNDcGeHwXytQbH7dej48LpRBVmpuib21hBIybE2AvtUye-FDfJlg6a1Eb2sIAlpaTHHL6aoDf7iPbWvCXJXGEWXr-7dncEkPcs/s1600/hyena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCM252kzXL14xocnj7JmYN2YKQ8YC04tAoFxoEE_H4NMNDcGeHwXytQbH7dej48LpRBVmpuib21hBIybE2AvtUye-FDfJlg6a1Eb2sIAlpaTHHL6aoDf7iPbWvCXJXGEWXr-7dncEkPcs/s1600/hyena.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
"Well, that's attractive."<br />
<br />
Sunday is over. Two mighty strange and exciting and wonderful Sundays in a row. Now it is Monday and my resting heart rate is(almost) back where it belongs. There are many new and unfolding adventures in front of my family and theirs (ours?) which we are looking forward to. We'll share more as time goes by, but right now emotions are still high and feelings are tender.<br />
<br />
But we know this, and it has been confirmed every single day:<br />
<i><b>God is in control</b></i>.<br />
Romans 8:28 <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;"> "</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;">And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
Thanks for caring for us in these topsy-turvy times.Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-12384880481664888072014-05-13T11:02:00.000-07:002014-05-13T11:02:24.837-07:00A Birthday prayer(This was originally posted in March 2008. It bears repeating because of all the craziness this week.Diane)<br />
<br />
This day comes around once a year.(Like most days, I guess) Usually I remember what the day signifies, say a prayer, and slowly return to my daily routine. This time, though, I went to the files and got out the medical records.<br />
<br />
Well, one really grainy copy of my stay at the hospital. It records the time I arrived (5:45 AM), some notes I can't read, the date (3/18/81) and the time of my baby's birth. (6:55 PM)<br />
<br />
It doesn't record that I gave him up for adoption that day.<br />
It doesn't tell me what his parent's named him, or where they live.<br />
It doesn't mention if he has any other siblings, or how he is doing now.<br />
It doesn't tell me if he is following Christ .<br />
<br />
I can't help but wonder about him today as I look at this paper. At the time, all I wanted to do was get out of that hospital and get on with my own life.What a mistake. I didn't get that that WAS a part of my own life and that someday I would be crying over this single sheet of paper,the only thing I have from that day,and praying for him.<br />
<br />
I am so grateful for the life that God has blessed me with, for my family, friends and church. (Josiah just called AGAIN to check in; no son calls their parents that much! It reminded me how really blessed I am)<br />
<br />
So, on your birthday, son that I never knew, I pray for your life. I pray that you are healthy and safe, that your family is good to you and that you know our Lord.I pray that the Lord will someday allow you and your brother and sister(Josiah and Amy) to meet. They would like that so much. I almost feel as if I can't ask that for myself, although I dream of it. I ask the Lord to bless you and to help you grow towards Him daily. I'm more sorry than I can say that I didn't appreciate how precious you were , and a gift from God, until years later. I do love you.Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-30662259601891937172014-05-08T20:09:00.000-07:002014-05-09T07:14:53.870-07:00"Are you my brother?"I knew I wasn't ready to be a mom. I was 19 years old. I honestly don't think I was ever ready. Not really.<br />
I knew I wanted him to have the best chance at a good life that I could give him.<br />
I remember seeing him when he was born and they plopped him on my stomach.<br />
Red and squirmy and heavy.<br />
Shock and awe.<br />
<br />
I remember wanting to move on with my life.<br />
But I never forgot him.<br />
Rod, the kids and I used to look for a familiar face in the crowds.<br />
They never forgot him either.<br />
He just had a birthday and we thought of him again.<br />
I have prayed for him in the middle of the night, and I call him "the son I gave up for adoption." Because I never knew his name.<br />
But we have prayed and hoped that he is well, and healthy,and happy and that he knows the God who created him and that someday, he might want to meet us.<br />
His other family.<br />
Amy, my daughter, is determined and pregnant. She wants to know her other brother. She wants her brother to know her and her family.<br />
So, this is what she did today.<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/AVvXsEhHlF-JaEvanfOeHQKWWNsT_RhNTUH8bVvpq7nn25E-f_FdunucdFIo97APdgPQ6k8tG7B1UJzwBitLgcBOgG3MA7VKU6seqGjnOmlaup81nx9ng0CCkS4goFHUkXv3TvJdUtZ-nTLzRxw/s1600/amy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlF-JaEvanfOeHQKWWNsT_RhNTUH8bVvpq7nn25E-f_FdunucdFIo97APdgPQ6k8tG7B1UJzwBitLgcBOgG3MA7VKU6seqGjnOmlaup81nx9ng0CCkS4goFHUkXv3TvJdUtZ-nTLzRxw/s1600/amy.jpg" height="390" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"Hi friends & family! Please help us on this exciting adventure to find my brother who was given up for adoption on 3/18/81! Share this photo to help us spread awareness and let him know that he has a whole bunch of family who are searching for him and would love nothing more than to finally meet. Thank you for your help, I know we can do this!"</span></td></tr>
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So, now we'll wait and see what happens. I'll keep you posted.</div>
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And if you want to, and you haven't already, please share this so we can get the word out. Thank you for your help, everyone.</div>
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Important note: this blog is not set up to accept comments. (something went wonky with it) so please use the email addresses in the photo to contact us!) DidiLyn@aol.com or AmyLynn1200@aol.com</div>
Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695278190250040971.post-23056043212704295422014-05-06T09:21:00.000-07:002014-05-06T09:21:48.542-07:00Goat herdingHello, my name is Diane and I am a goat-herder.<br />
I'll only have the job until Rod fixes the goat fence, but he has work and he somehow injured his neck so it hurts to digs holes and set fence posts. I wouldn't know because my job is to herd the goats and take them on the occasional goatie stroll.<br />
This morning it is "Oregon misting" on me, but Rosie and Willow still wanted to venture out of their dry stall.<br />
Fine.<br />
I wiped off my lawn chair, set it in the yard and called the goats over to the blackberry bramble covered sand filter on the side of the barn.<br />
How do I call them?<br />
I "maa-maaa-maaaaa-aaaa."<br />
They seem to respond.<br />
I am the goat whisperer. As well as the herder and the stroller.<br />
The sky was misting, the birds were chirping, I had my coffee, my camera, my phone and my office book. (I was goat herding AND I took a job down for next week. I am a multi-tasking goat herder.)<br />
Here was my view.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFZJDzRNPV5rFNKvwKy97HFjtbuiGiEm3Lwa83EUxNxcg53e5UouEuLw1X_7OH5e65zcBV7iOgPt3THs8V_37cagAtw5Qk88PBUydolBhR1KmMI6k4oBu3Ec4RV0zH8ihnRZLKFIl94g/s1600/DSC04021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFZJDzRNPV5rFNKvwKy97HFjtbuiGiEm3Lwa83EUxNxcg53e5UouEuLw1X_7OH5e65zcBV7iOgPt3THs8V_37cagAtw5Qk88PBUydolBhR1KmMI6k4oBu3Ec4RV0zH8ihnRZLKFIl94g/s1600/DSC04021.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
Yes, the dogs graze right along with the goats. I try not to ask too many questions.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhyphenhyphenAt8VqyhqgLPQcC39CSmMA4uNOFNOakIaaTL1RCMq1Es5RjLBzBXagrwH9QW-aymrNy7VobNW41zzmUDQjf1Fl7pCPMj1lbQMLmelFJ3OZYDG2XfZaW8WNSiGcvXPpJUNBS3o-hdPE/s1600/DSC04030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhyphenhyphenAt8VqyhqgLPQcC39CSmMA4uNOFNOakIaaTL1RCMq1Es5RjLBzBXagrwH9QW-aymrNy7VobNW41zzmUDQjf1Fl7pCPMj1lbQMLmelFJ3OZYDG2XfZaW8WNSiGcvXPpJUNBS3o-hdPE/s1600/DSC04030.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
This is Rosie, enjoying her breakfast of blackberry vines.<br />
I'm enjoying my new job.<br />
Have a great day, everyone.Diane Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092079647422617381noreply@blogger.com0