tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1954918710000585672024-03-13T01:30:03.994-04:00AMANDA BACONencouraging words for everyday lifeBacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.comBlogger360125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-28569659867116058302019-04-30T16:55:00.000-04:002019-04-30T17:10:53.924-04:00I'm So Distracted: Why We Need to Find a Different Way to Live<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; line-height: 1.4em; margin-bottom: 15px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I sat on the edge of my unmade bed, searching Pinterest for home ideas with half of my brain. The other half tried to decipher if the shouts and banging in the living room were worth getting up to check. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Was that happy or argumentative shouting? Playful or destructive banging?</em> It was hard to tell. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Did I really want to know? If it was a relatively harmless argument, shouldn’t I let the kids work it out themselves?</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The pull was strong to keep my Pinterest search alive, and the urge to investigate what might be going on in no-man’s-land was virtually nonexistent. There was bound to be something I needed to address — a behavior that needed modifying — but I just didn’t think I had it in me. The apps on my phone seemed like a much happier place to spend these minutes. I could scroll and tap my way to a flawless imaginary home, or I could go out there and grow my very own tension headache. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Hmm … tough choice.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Except it actually <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">was</em> a tough choice, because parenting was calling. Was I going to let it go to voicemail even though I’m perfectly capable (and responsible) to answer the call? Why was this so hard?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When did my desire to attentively involve myself and counsel my kids fall behind my desire to do what I want, when I want? I don’t know when the switch happened, but once I realized it, I despised it and everything about it. My phone and other tools-turned-interruptions had become enemies, not the friends I thought they’d been.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The draw to temporarily escape the realities of life seems to plague me most when I need to do something important, like sleep, make dinner, work or look my kids in the eye. Interacting with the apps on my phone at the wrong times and for the wrong reasons serves as only a temporary high, leaving me frustrated with myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m guessing you might know <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">exactly</em> what I’m talking about. I know many of us struggle to stay focused. I also know many of us have a hard time sticking with the good and worthy pursuits right in front of us, things such as:</span></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 12px; margin-top: 0px;">
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Building our relationship with God.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Studying the Bible alone or in a group.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Investing in our most important people.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Giving mindful attention to our work, from home or elsewhere.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Keeping our home tidy and functioning.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Making meals.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Having friends.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Helping others.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If our priorities are of utmost importance, how can we keep them in their proper place?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Proverbs 5:8 says,<em style="box-sizing: border-box;"> “Keep your way far from her, and do not go near the door of her house.” </em>This proverb warns us to avoid an adulteress and the places she dwells if we’re tempted, but I believe it applies here as well. Anything that tempts us to fall into sinful patterns should be avoided. In our case, true distractions could be the “her” in this verse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What might it look like for us to heed this warning in Proverbs? Let’s use phones and the internet as our example. Avoiding temptation might look like:</span></div>
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<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Placing our device(s) in a room other than the one where we’re spending time with our family.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking up and putting distractions aside when someone speaks to us.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Setting timers for internet-related tasks to help bring us back to reality.</span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.4em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Taking a weekly day off from all apps and websites.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Discipline is a learned skill, one we must practice to improve. It’s imperative we find a way around what hijacks our minds, because what we want most is waiting.</span></div>
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<em style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Father, we love You. We want to honor You above all else. We come before You, hands open, asking You to help us live an undistracted life. May we bring You glory as we walk toward living a focused and intentional life for Your kingdom’s sake. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNAWj9b-wYotuwfwaFYQCc4XQf0iC26GGkh_nuusO8q8B5qA9Iet6zhTk86L974ZKGIQ9Q-ED-Yd8hPR16c39mtaJi3o6ERcvj5U0L0R58t_JuJl_x3Xtn4XBYAZAor-tNX_o0WUBaBs/s1600/11.13.18_Shiny+Things_With+Endorsement_Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1036" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNAWj9b-wYotuwfwaFYQCc4XQf0iC26GGkh_nuusO8q8B5qA9Iet6zhTk86L974ZKGIQ9Q-ED-Yd8hPR16c39mtaJi3o6ERcvj5U0L0R58t_JuJl_x3Xtn4XBYAZAor-tNX_o0WUBaBs/s200/11.13.18_Shiny+Things_With+Endorsement_Final.jpg" width="129" /></a></div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">If these words resonated with you and you're struggling to stay focused on your top priorities, then you'll enjoy my new book, co-written with </span><a href="http://www.anne-reneegumley.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #45818e;">Anne-Renee Gumley</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">,</span><i style="color: #333333;"> Shiny Things: Mothering on Purpose in a World of Distractions</i><span style="color: #333333;">. Get your copy </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Shiny-Things-Mothering-Purpose-Distractions/dp/0736973672?pf_rd_p=616cfad6-05f3-425d-8659-8a0037d112c9&pd_rd_wg=cR2Ed&pf_rd_r=AB1KY2FPQSDKZWHF8WQW&ref_=pd_gw_cr_simh&pd_rd_w=XfQKl&pd_rd_r=0c25f2e0-0145-4d8f-8d2f-e4ac65321236" target="_blank"><span style="color: #45818e;">HERE</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">. </span></span></span></div>
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Amanda Baconhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07012736946697619566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-57840966819488223542018-03-23T12:08:00.000-04:002018-03-23T12:08:33.353-04:00When You Stink at Unconditional Love<br />
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<i>"I hate him. </i><i>I just can't do it anymore."</i><br />
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Heartbroken words were whispered as a tearful prayer to God in one of my darkest moments as a mom over two years ago.<br />
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Of course I didn't mean it. I didn't hate my son. <i>I don't hate my son.</i> I love him and want so badly to see him succeed and for me to step out of the way and allow Christ to heal his wounded places without my offense at his sin tripping him up.<br />
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<i>Unconditional love. </i>That's what I really needed to show him. Not hatred or bitterness.<br />
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Obviously God knew I needed some major help in this area, because these past few years have pushed me to places I never wanted to go. Places that have hurt more than anything I've ever experienced and left me turned completely inside out.<br />
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I believe with my whole heart God wanted me to be twisted and stretched to an almost unrecognizable state so He could reform me. So He could resurrect me. So He could sit in His rightful place on the throne of my heart.<br />
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I cannot control my people, but I can love them.<br />
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But the problem is that I'm not God and I don't know how to love like Him. But I'm learning. I'm growing.<br />
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I'm seeing my own sin for what it is and I'm seeing how God deals with me and it's vastly different than how I naturally want to deal with the people who hurt or sin against me.<br />
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In my natural state, I want those who make me hurt feel the weight of their choice and hurt in return. In my natural state, I hate the idea of someone "getting away" with what they've done. I want it to crush them like it crushed me.<br />
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It's not pretty, but that's where my heart gravitates without the gospel.<br />
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In that moment when I cried out to God with my honest feelings about my son, I wasn't just mad at him.<br />
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I despised who I'd become as a person.<br />
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I was hunched low with burden. I was critical and cynical about the future. I felt completely hopeless and went through the daily motions of living without <i>really living</i>.<br />
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Fearful of a total loss of control, I grasped at anything that might help me gain control again.<br />
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But nothing worked. And nothing <i>will</i> ever work unless I operate in God's love.<br />
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He sees my sin and loves me anyways.<br />
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And not just that, He saw my sin and sent Jesus to <i>die </i>for me anyways.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. — Romans 5:8</blockquote>
Did you get that? While we were STILL sinners. He showed the most love He could possibly ever show.<br />
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He didn't wait until we died and faced the punishment we deserved to do the amazing thing. He showed grace to us while we were still stuck hard and cold in our sin.<br />
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Stinking at unconditional love has taught me so much more about God's love for me and for all mankind than I ever would have learned apart from this struggle. And for that, I say thank you to Him.<br />
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I don't know where you stand on this issue and the degree of your own struggle, but I do know that as of now, it's a daily wrestling for me. Maybe one day I'll more naturally jump right to grace instead of condemnation. I pray that becomes my reality.<br />
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But for now, I'll continually place the remembrance of the cross before me as I reach out with His love.<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-48225394620545261202017-08-10T11:47:00.000-04:002018-03-04T19:08:04.697-05:00I Didn't Actually Lose Myself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been thinking for some time about what I would share in honor of National Foster Care Month. But, well, that was back in May when I started writing this post.<br />
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Foster Care Month or not, the words I share here are still true.<br />
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When we believed God was calling us to adopt in 2009 after the last of our first four kids were born, we did not believe God was asking us to foster adopt.<br />
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We prayed about it for nearly a year, asking Him to show us the path we should take. As we did so, we couldn't get past the sense that our child would come through a private adoption. Several months later, our first adoption came about by word-of-mouth, resulting in nine week-old Gabrielle joining our family.<br />
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At that point, we believed we were done having and receiving children. Five kids was a lot and we were swamped.<br />
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The end. This is us moving on with our lives, walking the road before us as a family of seven. God's number and all. The number of completion.<br />
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Two months after welcoming little tiny Gabi into our home, God impressed on my heart we had another child waiting in foster care. This baffled us. We weren't licensed to foster and we'd just brought a baby home. Plus, foster care was something we believed wasn't for us.<br />
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We had reason after reason why not. Most of which anyone would have agreed with.<br />
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Foster adoption felt too risky. Too dangerous. Too sad. Too everything.<br />
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Even though we were terrified, we stepped forward believing God instead of our fears. Fast forward ten more months and much more to the story, we welcomed nine month-old Levi. We were now foster parents and Levi was legally free to be adopted.<br />
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Okay, make that six kids. The end. Moving on now.<br />
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Now this little man, who turns seven next month, insists on kissing my cheek as he jumps out of the van for school or walks into Sunday school. He tells me how nice I look in a bathing suit too. Seriously. <i>Every time.</i> We could have missed that. <i>We could have missed him. </i><br />
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I won't tell the whole story here, but if you speed ahead a few years and add baby Emmalie who came to us the old-fashioned way, we'd say FOR SURE now that we'd never adopt again or give birth to another child. Being parents to seven kids was now over-the-top a lot. We were for SURE <i>done</i>.<br />
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Or so we thought.<br />
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But a phone call from a social worker in the village Levi was born in changed all that. She asked if we would consider Levi's big brother he'd never met. We were shaken to the core. Should we? Could we? Can we?<br />
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<i>Serioiusly, God?</i><br />
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I was in such a hard place already with three in diapers. I was drowning in the middle of a difficult mothering season. Even so, God confirmed we should bring a sad, scared, and scarred six-year-old into our family. Jackson has been home now for three years.<br />
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Even though the risk factor had jumped up several notches, we decided it was more important to bring comfort to a child in need than coddle our own perceived need for comfort.<br />
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It is by far the hardest thing we've ever done. But it doesn't mean it wasn't for us. These children were for us.<br />
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Many times over the years I've lamented that I've lost myself. I've felt buried in kids, special needs, cooking, driving, correcting, showing love when exhausted, ministry, teaching, discipling, and lack of time to just be me.<br />
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Then it hit me.<br />
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Maybe it's not that I lost myself, maybe it's that I found myself by beginning to strip away the selfishness that had been built up by years of general ease.<br />
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Jesus said we would find ourselves by losing ourselves. I know what He meant now.<br />
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It says in Matthew 10, He gathered the Twelve to Himself to give them instructions before sending them out with the authority to drive out impure spirits and heal the sick. Near the end of His words to them, in Matthew 10:39 He said,<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."</span></b></blockquote>
<b><br /></b> The picture up at the top of the post is a picture of me losing myself. Not just my mind (oh, you know it's true), but my very self. These four kids are a representation of when my plans for my life became unimportant as I picked up God's plan for both their lives and mine, and that of the rest of our family.<br />
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I've been told more than once I'm a glutton for punishment for having eight children and for adopting. <i>How kind, right? </i><br />
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This reminds me of Rachel Lynde's warnings to Marilla about taking in an orphan in Anne of Green Gables. In that story, we all know Rachel is crazy, and that Anne is the best thing that could ever have happened to Green Gables and Avonlea at large. But that's what happens when people don't understand. They speak from their own fears instead of what's really best in the long run.<br />
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We can't use fear as the fuel in any of our decisions.<br />
We can't internalize the fears someone else expresses either.<br />
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We are the only ones responsible for listening to and obeying God for our own lives.<br />
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As my friend <a href="http://www.emilypfreeman.com/" target="_blank">Emily</a> says in her book <a href="http://emilypfreeman.com/the-books/" target="_blank">A Million Little Ways</a>,<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Though fear is present, the spirit of fear does not live within you. The Spirit of God does."</span></b></blockquote>
<i><br /></i> <i>The Spirit of God does. </i><br />
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As much as I've fought fear and what felt like the losing of myself all these years, I've found another version of me in the process I wouldn't want to live without.<br />
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I like her. She's gritty, determined, and generally fearless. Let's not talk about the snakes I'm terrified of here in North Carolina. <i>We just won't. </i><br />
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Right before Jesus tells the disciples the part about losing their life for His sake, he says these words in Matthew 10:38,<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me." </span></b></blockquote>
<b><br /></b> Jesus is asking us to die to our self-will, embrace God's will no matter what, and follow Him.<br />
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Losing ourselves in the process might be the very thing we need to truly know, depend on, and love God and others.<br />
<br />Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-25681178416380966962017-05-18T13:29:00.001-04:002018-03-04T19:08:16.621-05:00Time is a Teacher<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Recently I sat down with my journal after getting the young ones to bed and looked back at my entries from our first couple of months living in North Carolina. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I don't write in this particular journal every day or even every week. I write in it when everything comes to a head and I just can't deal. I appropriately titled it my Things That Feel Too Hard journal. It's where I keep my big feelings. I write prayers. Lists of worries and hard things. I give myself pep talks and reminders from Scripture too. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is what I wrote last fall in the middle of some angst and question filled days:</span><br /><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">What do I fear?</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">✔️ there will be no close friendships forged</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">✔️ I will be rejected here</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">✔️ we will mess up our teens</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">✔️ our kids won't have any friends</span><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">✔️ no other families will not want to be around us because we're too big, too weird, and we might not look like we need them</span><br /><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I wasn't in a bad place as a whole, but I sure had my questions. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Looking back these several months later, I can see some of these fears have lessened. Some of them are still lingering, but that's only because these things take time. But it helps me to be able to see the real places I've been, and where I've landed just a few months later. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Don't we just need a little perspective sometimes? To look back at our questions when we know differently now? I knew I needed to be patient. I knew in my heart none of it was true. But it sure felt true at the time. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">What do we do when false things feel true? What do we do when fear taunts us with possibilities that terrify?</span><br /><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">We call fear a liar and put our hope and trust in the One who called us. He is present. He does see. He is working behind the scenes in ways we couldn't dream up. Let's give Him room to work without rushing the process. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">We just love to rush the process, don't we? </span></span></span></div>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Should I whip out some stats about waiting from the lives of some of our favorites from the Bible? Abraham? the Israelites? David? Elijah? Noah? Joseph? Some of them waited half their lives or more to see the promises of God to them come to pass. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Why then do we think our timeline should be sped up? I'm preaching to myself here, but maybe it preaches to you as well.</span></span></span></h1>
<h1 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>"Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" - Psalm 27:14</i></span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; color: #666666; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Edited"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; color: #666666; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">** You may or may not have noticed my monthly newsletter didn't come at the end of April! I decided writing quarterly newsletters would be best for me and my use of time, so I'll be back to writing another one near the end of summer! To sign-up to receive them, click <a href="http://eepurl.com/crH5xP" target="_blank">HERE</a>. If you get these posts in your inbox already, you're all signed up. ** </span></span></span><br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-7094524297543306752017-03-11T09:43:00.005-05:002018-03-04T19:08:28.028-05:00If You Think Something Nice, Say It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven't been to an over-abundance of funerals in my life, but I've been to enough to notice a few things.<br />
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Each time I'm at a memorial service, as kind words are bravely spoken from the pulpit by loved ones, I always have one great hope as I manage the lump in my throat:<br />
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<b>I hope this person heard these words before they passed. I pray they knew how beloved they were.</b><br />
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I picture the person being remembered sitting in a chair receiving the words. Eyes beaming. Tears streaming. But the problem is they aren't there to hear them and have it impact their life here on earth.<br />
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What if this wasn't the case?<br />
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What if our loved ones <i>knew</i> all the good things we thought of them when they were living?<br />
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Imagine how this would bless them. Imagine how beautiful our world would be if the good were praised and the criticisms hushed? Imagine the impact it could have it just one more person were encouraged and built up?<br />
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We hold back so much.<br />
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Maybe because we think if we tell our loved ones how much we appreciate the good in them, it will mean we accept the bad parts too? I get this.<br />
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I once heard <a href="https://www.life.church/who-we-are/?utm_source=life.church&utm_medium=website&utm_content=MoreMenu-WhoWeAre&utm_campaign=Life.Church" target="_blank">Pastor Craig Groeschel</a> say, <i>"Never withold a blessing. If you think something nice about someone, say it." </i><br />
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I've been so challenged by this.<br />
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If we think something nice, we ought to say it. Is there anything more simple yet so impactful?<br />
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Who might benefit from hearing your offering of kindness? The hearer? The hearer's family? You just never know what kind of waves a single act of kindness can make.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b><span class="text Prov-16-24" id="en-ESV-16865" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; position: relative;">Gracious words are like <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16865B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16865B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>a honeycomb,</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-16-24" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">sweetness to the soul and <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16865C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16865C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>health to the body. - Proverbs 16:24</span></span></b></i></blockquote>
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<br />Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-47784238550600848402017-01-12T17:35:00.002-05:002017-01-12T17:44:31.002-05:00What 2016 Taught<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every once in a while, I like to stop and recount what I've learned after a long stretch of life, and the start of 2017 seemed like the perfect time to pause and look back. Here are my major takeaways from 2016.<br />
<br />
<b>1. <u>I don't always know the answers. My gut isn't always right. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> As hard as it is to swallow, 2016 showed me that my pride and assumptive abilities have no place in any area of my life, but especially not in decision-making. I sometimes assume the answer is whatever I'm "feeling" the most. Guilty. 2017 will be the year of me not always following my gut.<br />
<b><br /></b> <br />
<b>2. <u>You can never go wrong when you choose to serve others rather than self. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> I'm not talking about neglecting ourselves here, I'm talking about service. Real, genuine, uncoerced acts of love and service for the benefit of others. Too often we make sure we get what we want and do what we want, and forget the bigger picture. Jesus modeled this kind of others first living, and it's something I want more of.<br />
<b><br /></b> <br />
<b>3. <u>Yep, it will be hard, but it will also be worth it. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> 2016 taught me to wait out the storm, <a href="http://www.amandabacon.com/2016/06/on-moving-and-leaping.html" target="_blank">take a big leap</a>, and trust even when the way is foggy. Good things can be really, really hard and also absolutely worth it.<br />
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<b>4. <u>My family needs and deserves my best. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> I don't have many words to share here because I've already said it all. My family, this gift from God, deserves more of me.<br />
<u><br /></u> <b>5. <u>Regardless of others' opinions, follow God's words to you. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> Sometimes following God's lead involves receiving some backlash from those you know. That's okay. Be gracious and keep on following Him.<br />
<u><br /></u> <b>6. <u>Unconditional love makes a difference in my heart and theirs. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> One of my top struggles as a human is the habit of temporarily withdrawing my affection from those who have wronged me when unconditional love is what's needed instead. This takes place mostly in the parenting realm. I want to be a steady mother who gives consequences for poor choices from a place of mercy and grace rather than bitterness and swinging emotions. <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/?p=5258">This post I wrote over on The Masterpiece Mom speaks to this.</a><br />
<b><br /></b> <br />
<b>7. <u>Good skincare and well-fitting pants are important to me. </u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b> Laugh if you will, but how many times have we neglected our skin and worn pants that are way too uncomfortable? <i>Way too many times. </i>I pledge that my skin will be cared for and my pants will not make me want to unbutton them. Amen.<br />
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<br />
Well, there you have it. 2016 in a nutshell. Speaking of 2016, Anne-Renee and I just released a new podcast episode where we talk about all our favorites from last year. Clothing, music, books, TV shows, mothering moments, etc. You can listen right here: <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/?p=5304" target="_blank">Episode 58 - Best of 2016</a><br />
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Happy January! What did you learn last year?<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-86978434295277469872016-12-16T12:51:00.000-05:002016-12-16T12:54:17.474-05:00I Pledge Allegiance to Their Standards (No Thanks)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
The bath water was warm and inviting. A cup of chai tea sat on the edge of the tub. I wondered if I'd even drink it. Hot water on the outside of the body paired with more hot water poured into the inside is sometimes too much. <br />
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The door was locked and my laptop sat sturdy atop the hamper. A show would be nice. Time alone would be nicer.<br />
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Children aged nine and under were tucked in bed at the Bacon school-night standard time of 7:30 p.m. All was well. Chances of a knock on the door were slim to none, lest there be a fire or other emergency. Even then I'd question leaving this haven.<br />
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I sunk into the water like it was the day's saving grace. Why does warm water feel so good? So comforting?<br />
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In the womb, warm water comforts too. Maybe there's a connection, I thought.<br />
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As the flash of the laptop began to cast a blue-ish light on my skin, I notice the white streaks painted on my abdomen, hips, and legs. <i>Stretch marks. </i>I hadn't noticed them in a long time.<br />
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There were more than I remembered. The marks paved roads to places I didn't realize. The dark room paired with the glowing light made them stand out.<br />
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<i>Hmm.</i><br />
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I don't make a habit of inspecting my body in front of the mirror or otherwise, so I just hadn't noticed or thought about them for some time.<br />
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<br />
<i>Five pregnancies did this. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Growth and life did this. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm okay with this. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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I've never loved gushy words about embracing your stretch marks. I just don't think enough about them to actually devote time to embracing them.<br />
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If it weren't for vanity's sake, why would anyone care?<br />
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If it weren't for vanity's sake, why would anyone ever despise them?<br />
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If it weren't for vanity's sake, why would anyone attempt to cover them?<br />
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<i>If it weren't for vanity's sake... </i>a thought to investigate further.<br />
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I stopped using cocoa butter to stave off the stretch marks after my third pregnancy. Creams didn't stop them from coming anyways.<br />
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But the real reason I didn't slather my bulging belly with those magic potions any longer was because I was done trying to stop what my body naturally did as a response to the life growing in me.<br />
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Trying to stop a natural process from "ruining" my body was feeding my natural inclination to care too much about my appearance.<br />
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Here's the part where I say the words we aren't so happy to hear.<br />
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If we're struggling with despising our bodies or are desperate to look good, that's a form of pride.<br />
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<i>I would know.</i> For the last 16 years, I've struggled with the way my abdomen looks after growing and birthing babies. The marks don't bother me, but the shape of my body does at times.<br />
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Pride says, <i>"I need to look better to be better. What I think and what others think about my body matters." </i><br />
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Pride. It's one of the battles we face daily. It's one of the battles I find myself in more than others.<br />
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<br />
The American culture feeds this pride and internal battle of ours by shouting:<br />
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"You're not at your best unless you look your best."<br />
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<i>Really? Says who?</i><br />
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"You don't need to look like you had a baby!"<br />
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<i>Um, but I did. </i><br />
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"Your body is your shining glory!"<br />
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<i>No. Just no. This is false on so many levels.</i><br />
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<br />
Women apologizing for their bodies is an atrocity.<br />
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Women viewing their bodies as a god detracts from their love of God.<br />
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Women despising what growing a life does to the body takes away from one's appreciation of life itself.<br />
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Women spending the bulk of their time, money, and thoughts on their appearance, means little is left to serve and give to others.<br />
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<br />
What are our lives and our bodies for, but to be lovingly given away in service to God and others?<br />
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In love, not coercion.<br />
In love, not fear.<br />
In love, not guilt.<br />
In love, not shame.<br />
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If God doesn't require our bodies to be perfectly aligned with the current culture's standards, then why should we invest our energy and resources to do so?<br />
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Can we not be of service to Him otherwise?<br />
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<i>On the contrary.</i> If we are worshipping the god of self and appearance, we are less useful to the kingdom. Our allegiance lies elsewhere.<br />
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Our worship.<br />
Our attention.<br />
Our standards are shifted from God to man.<br />
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When it's laid out like this, it stabs. But I think we need to lay it all out. We don't realize how we hinder God's work through us by staying focused on ourselves.<br />
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I wish we could snuff this problem out like we do a candle's flame, but it's not that easy. It takes time to change this way of thinking.<br />
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One prayer at a time.<br />
One captured thought at a time.<br />
One less jab aimed at ourselves at a time.<br />
One day reading God's truth at a time.<br />
One more abiding moment at a time.<br />
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Their standards are not the measuring tool.<br />
Our value is fixed and unchanging according to God.<br />
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A zillion stretched out miles of life-giving skin does nothing to change that.<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-53732834244850947272016-09-21T15:17:00.001-04:002016-09-21T15:53:43.556-04:00Seven Weeks Later<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I picked up my journal this morning for the first time in three months. Three months ago we were one month away from closing on our home and moving in with my in-laws and then my parents' until we left the state at the start of August. <script src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
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Since then, time has both stood still and zoomed by at warp speed. Jeremy has been watching Star Trek Generations re-runs at night, so you'll forgive me for the Trekkie reference. </div>
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I had so many questions the last time I journaled. I still do. Some of them are still valid, others have been answered. </div>
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<b>I was worried it would all be for naught.</b> Would we be made a fool? Are we crazy?</div>
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<b>I was worried about snakes and ticks. </b><i>Still am. </i>I've seen one snake so far (I almost stepped down right next to it) and my family found a dead baby snake in our yard. I can't say I wasn't happy. </div>
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<b>I was worried about school.</b> It was the kind of fear that overtakes when the unknown lurks. It would be our first time having kids (just our elementary ones) in the public school. We wouldn't know where they'd be attending until we found a rental. When would that be? Would it be a good school? Would our kids be okay? Our fears were quieted when we found a beautiful rental just minutes from a fabulous school. We moved in 10 days before school started. Our kids are doing beautifully. God has been so good to us. We've got four kids at school and four kids in school at home. It's been a healthy dynamic. One we haven't had in years. </div>
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Right below where I listed my worries in my journal, I wrote this prayer:</div>
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<b>"Jesus, smooth all these details. You are Lord of all and we trust your plan and path for us. We'll follow you anywhere. Make us wise and at peace there." </b></div>
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Our last few weeks in Alaska were tumultuous times in my heart. I didn't want to have to say goodbye, but it didn't feel right to stay put either. Tears were threatening at every turn. </div>
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Leaving the place we love. The people we love. It was all just too much. </div>
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If we had a direction or exact purpose for our move to North Carolina, maybe it would have been easier to stomach. <i>I don't know. </i>The amazing part is that we did have direction. We did have hope. It was just we weren't putting our hope in anything we could see. I guess that's the best place to put our hope. In Christ alone. </div>
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In the weeks and months leading up to us leaving, God kept inviting me to release my grip. I had been white-knuckling people and places for some time. It was so hard to let go. </div>
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It wasn't that we were untrusting.</div>
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We trusted God.</div>
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It was that we are human. </div>
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We arrived in North Carolina completely empty. </div>
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Exhausted after months of preparation and weeks of living out of suitcases.</div>
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Parenting eight kids through it all.</div>
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We had no job.</div>
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No home.</div>
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No church.</div>
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No vehicle.</div>
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Just suitcases and togetherness. </div>
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And peace. We had peace. </div>
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We moved forward exploring our new city. We did the next thing. Finding a vehicle was first so we could return our million dollars a day rental van. We had a free place to stay until we found a rental home. It was a beautiful gift during this time. We swam, unwound, relaxed, and settled our hearts for those first two weeks.<br />
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We were antsy too. Antsy about housing, antsy about school, and surprisingly un-antsy about a job. </div>
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These weeks later, we still have no job and no church. We've applied for a few jobs and have visited several churches. We'll get there. There's peace there too. </div>
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Jeremy's been working odd jobs a few times a week and he's been woodworking making things to sell. We've been content just being together. It's a luxury we've never been afforded. It can't last forever, but we'll take it.<br />
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Leaping into the great unknown can be so terrifying, can't it?<br />
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I'm guessing you can relate. I write all of this as an update of sorts, and also to remind us to keep pressing, keep trusting, and keep hoping.<br />
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He's not finished with us yet. Praise God, He's not finished with us yet.<br />
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<i>I document our life and times over on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/amanda_baconbits/" target="_blank">Instagram @amanda_baconbits</a> -- I'd love to have you join me there!</i></div>
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-91757915697686238972016-08-11T10:01:00.001-04:002016-11-20T21:59:51.143-05:00The Olympic Hopeful and the Christian <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Well, we did it. We loosened our grip on our beloved Alaska and reached across the continent to embrace a brand new place to call home.<br />
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We arrived in North Carolina one week ago, and I'm happy to report we're all in one piece and enjoying the vacation-like setting we're in right now before the realities of life including school, work, and moving into our home set in. I'm documenting over on <a href="http://www.instagram.com/amanda_baconbits" target="_blank">Instagram</a> (my favorite!) if you'd like to follow along. <br />
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Just a day or two after arriving, it was time for the Olympics to start. One thing you have to know about me is that I am what one might call an Olympic Games super-fan.<br />
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I love the thrill of the competition, the bright colors, and the excitement surrounding the Games. I love the family and friends in the stands, the years of dreaming and training, and the general buzz the Olympics creates. </div>
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I get into the athletes' stories and highly respect their long years of hard work and dedication. </div>
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The medal ceremonies have the power to choke me up, no matter what country you're from and what event you're competing in. You could be a Ukrainian shot-putter winning a gold medal and I just might shed a happy tear on your behalf. Maybe it's the dreamer in me, but I love seeing big dreams come true. </div>
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All the way across the world, from my home with my family who thinks I'm a wee bit obsessive with my USA warm-up jacket my Dad scored at a thrift store for me, my Go Team USA parties, and my general willingness to veg out in front of the TV for weeks once every two years. It's a fun gig. The Olympics are so. much. fun. </div>
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But before the Games even begin, you have to have the Olympic Trials. </div>
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Can I just tell you I have a whole other set of feelings and love for the Trials? But here's the thing about the Trials:</div>
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<b>An Olympic hopeful has a 0% guarantee they will make the team. </b>Their beloved Olympic team, after all those years of pursuing it. </div>
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There is no guarantee they will perform well. Anything could happen. An ankle could roll, a muscle could tear, or a sickness could overtake them. I'm not trying to be all Eyeore about it, but it's true. <i>Depressingly true. </i><br />
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Because I'm a great big Olympic nerd-fan, prior to the Games I found myself watching interviews with hopefuls who eventually went on to make the team, but were interviewed before actually being selected. I love stuff like that.<br />
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Here are some of the words and phrases these athletes were using before they competed to earn their spot. Notice the air of uncertainty.<br />
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<i>"I just don't know."</i><br />
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<i>"Anything can happen out there today."</i><br />
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<i>"I can only hope all the years of sacrifice and training will pay off."</i><br />
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<i>"I want to make my family proud and show them it was worth it."</i><br />
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<i>"I am just going to give it my all and hope it's enough."</i><br />
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We've all spoken these sorts of words. Maybe not with a trip to the Olympic Games on the line, but we know how it feels to be so unsure of outcomes.<br />
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That exam we've studied an entire semester for.<br />
That illness we're fighting.<br />
That child who gives us an insane amount of grief.<br />
That job interview.<br />
That move across the country.<br />
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Yep, we know the feeling. Uncertainty is associated with any worthwhile endeavor. And I don't mean to <a href="http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/11/16/the-jesus-juke/" target="_blank">Jesus Juke</a> you here, but whenever I think of Olympic hopefuls and the inevitable truth that someone who has worked just as hard as the rest will walk away disappointed, I can't help but think of the contrast between these hopefuls and Christians.<br />
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<b>An Olympic hopeful has zero assurance their dream will come true.</b><br />
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<b>A believer in Christ has full assurance of eternal outcomes.</b><br />
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<b>Christ-followers find acceptance with God through Christ no matter how hard we work. </b><br />
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<b>Christ's death and saving work on our behalf gives us confidence of God's welcome no matter how well we perform. </b><br />
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Because of Jesus:<br />
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<li>there is no guesswork after years of hard work</li>
<li>there are no dashed hopes</li>
<li>the dream always comes true</li>
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The writer of the book of Hebrews reminds us of this truth in chapter 10:19-23:</div>
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The only dream we can really place any hope in is our eternal dwelling with Christ. No matter what happens, no matter what disappointment takes hold and stays for what seems like forever, in Jesus there is no guesswork, no dashed hopes, and the dream always comes true.<br />
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That's something we can be sure of.<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-74142076473755019272016-06-29T03:47:00.004-04:002016-06-29T04:16:01.574-04:00On Moving and Leaping<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's taken me two whole months to actually sit down and write about our family's move 4,000 miles from home here in Alaska. Partly because I've been terribly busy organizing our move, getting our home ready, selling things off, packing, and then just living life as a wife, mom, and friend, and partly because I haven't known what to say or how to explain it.<br />
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But it's actually really simple if you get right down to it. </div>
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God told us we needed to move to North Carolina. </div>
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<i>I imagine I'll go into that more later on. It's all so beautifully personal and complex though.</i></div>
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We prayed about it for three whole years, eventually knowing it <i>would</i> happen. </div>
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Then we said yes in May once we had confirmation as a couple the timing was right. </div>
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We then listed our house two weeks later, after prepping all winter just in case we should be selling it come summertime.<br />
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One day later it sold. </div>
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<i>One. Day. </i></div>
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That was six weeks ago.</div>
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It's been the fastest six weeks of our lives. </div>
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We're shocked. Sad. Excited. Thrilled to be walking into the unknown knowing the Lord is our stay. And a bazillion other things. This move conjures up so many emotions. </div>
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For three years I've been asking God if He is really wanting us to leave. </div>
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<i>Why would we leave? I don't want to leave.</i> <i>It'd be nuts to leave our parents, our church, these amazing friends, this amazing place. Plus this: THERE ARE 10 OF US TO MOVE. </i></div>
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But slowly, He changed our hearts to match His on the matter. And now we can't imagine not leaving even though we have no idea what we're stepping into. </div>
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Jeremy was born and raised here, and has never lived anywhere else in his 40 years. </div>
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I moved to Alaska as a kid from Washington state, and have lived here 30 years. </div>
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This is all our kids have ever known. </div>
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This is HOME. </div>
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But as the years have gone by, we've loosened our grip on our earthly home, as hard as that is. And we've begun to embrace our future home, the unshakeable kingdom of our Lord and King, Jesus. </div>
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This verse has impacted us deeply. In fact, this is the very verse that solidified it for both Jeremy and I, completely separate of each other. </div>
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The cities and places we live are temporary. But what isn't fading away is God's kingdom. Our family is being called away from our current place because God has a mission for us, but we don't yet know what that will look like, or what exactly He'll have us doing. </div>
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As Jeremy said right as we made our final decision, <i>"I'm not willing to sit back, comfortable right here, if God has a plan for us there to help lead others into His kingdom." </i></div>
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People get it when you say, <i>"Hey, guess what? We've moving to Africa as missionaries!" </i></div>
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No one balks. No one questions. Well, of course they do, but only on the internet, right? <i>Did I just say that?</i> </div>
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We know what this means, and we're familiar with how God calls in this way.</div>
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We get squirmy when a calling is more ambiguous. </div>
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We feel a bit (a lot) like Abraham gathering all his people up, and blindly going where God was leading him, not knowing what the future holds. </div>
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We do know one thing amidst the massive amount of unknowns right now, and that is that we serve a trustworthy Savior who will continue to lead and guide and hold us as we walk toward Him all the way to North Carolina and her hot, sticky summers. </div>
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And so we close this twelve year-long chapter in this glorious spot in this beloved home in just two weeks. </div>
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We cry. We shake our heads in disbelief. We rejoice. We pray. And then we go.<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-41752458696804597392016-06-14T21:52:00.001-04:002016-06-14T21:52:44.480-04:00Meet My Brain {9 Notebooks That Save My Life}<div>
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When other women ask how I "do it all" (whatever that means), I usually shrug my shoulders and talk about what a good team Jeremy and I are. <i>Which is completely true. </i>Never once have I stopped to consider there are additional ways I intentionally calm the crazy in my life.<br />
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Enter my notebooks.<br />
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I'll put myself out there and say that I feel all warm and fuzzy about my notebook collection. I usually take one with me anytime I leave the house. I'm a pen and paper sort of girl, and only use my phone to keep track of shopping lists. I even use a tried and true wall calendar to keep track of the family schedule.<br />
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I've tried apps like Evernote to keep it all together, but I just wasn't jiving with it.<br />
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I love writing things down.<br />
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If keeping track of life in notebooks helps me, someone who believes the brain cells in charge of memory slipped secretly out when I gave birth five times over, then maybe they'll help you too.<br />
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You certainly don't have to have as many notebooks as I have, (or any!) but maybe this post will give you an idea or two and help you gain some extra brain space of your own.<br />
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<b><u>1. Bible Study</u></b> - This notebook holds whatever notes from whatever book of the Bible I'm currently studying. Right now I'm studying Numbers with the gang over on the First 5 app. (It's free! Go snag it. I love waking up with the First 5 crew.) It also holds the things I'm learning from certain passages or books of Scripture that I'll eventually use to form speaking notes when I have a speaking engagement.<br />
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<b><u>2. Personal Journal</u></b> - In this notebook, I ask myself questions and answer them. For instance, "What's making me crazy right now?" or "What am I worried about?" and other honest inquiries. <a href="http://www.leeanatankersley.com/" target="_blank">Leanna Tankersley</a> speaks about having this sort of journal in her book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Brazen-Courage-Find-Thats-Hiding/dp/0800726820/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1465953503&sr=8-1&keywords=brazen" target="_blank">Brazen</a>, which was a great read for me in early 2016. We were thankful to be able to chat with her as a guest on The Masterpiece Mom podcast a few months back to discuss her new book. <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/?p=4575" target="_blank">Have a listen right here. </a><br />
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<b><u>3. Project or Ministry Notebook</u></b> - This one helps me keep track of all things regarding the ministry of <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/" target="_blank">The Masterpiece Mom.</a> Blog post ideas, meeting notes, podcast notes, and brainstorms are all kept here.<br />
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<b><u>4. Bullet Journal</u></b> - Meet my brain: the bullet journal. It's not a specific type of journal, rather it's a journaling method. Learn about it at <a href="http://www.bulletjournal.com/" target="_blank">www.bulletjournal.com </a>-- You're welcome! I keep track of my daily and monthly to-do's here, along with other sorts of lists like party invites, book lists, packing lists, etc.<br />
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<b><u>5. Sermon Notes</u></b> - I retain more when I'm taking notes during a sermon. The end.<br />
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<b><u>6. Moving Notebook</u></b> - More specifically, I call this my North Carolina book. But if there's anything that requires tons of attention and numerous details, consider dedicating an entire notebook to it. Eek. There I go again, mentioning that we're moving without talking about it. I promise, that's coming soon.<br />
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<b><u>7. Healthy Living</u></b> - This one is dedicated to keeping track of healthy eating habits and exercise. It helps me stay accountable to myself and my goals, even though I often forget to write in it. As an almost 40 year-old woman, the importance of staying active and eating well for my health is at the forefront of my mind. If I don't feel well, it's usually because I'm not taking care of myself.<br />
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<b><u>8. Writing Ideas and Quotes</u></b> - This little notebook holds all the writing ideas that pass through my mind when I'm going about my day. No matter how much I convince myself I'll remember them, I just can't. I also collect quotes I may want to use in my future writing as well.<br />
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<b><u>9. Prayer</u> </b>- Usually, I post prayer requests on my bedroom wall using white post-its and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00W4JY6HS/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s07?ie=UTF8&psc=1" target="_blank">pretty washi tape</a>, but since we've been in home-selling mode around here the last couple of months, I've had to clear the wall. So I turned to a prayer notebook. Again, I just can't remember all that I'd like to be lifting to the Lord in prayer. This helps me be more intentional.<br />
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<i><b>How do you keep track of your life? </b></i></div>
Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-34976771341291880492016-06-02T13:06:00.001-04:002016-06-02T13:06:34.760-04:00We Need You and Want You {Mentor Us, Please}About a year and a half ago I stood in my bathroom and cried hot tears I didn't know were lying dormant inside of me. I was grieving. <script src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
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I realized my life had a gaping hole in it and I'd only just figured out what it was. </div>
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I was mentor-less. </div>
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Thirteen years ago, I moved back to the community I grew up in with my husband of three years, and two teeny little boys. I'd had mentors before. Not formal ones, really, but friendships with women a stage or two ahead of me. I treasured them, but after moving, these friendships slipped into the background without the everyday closeness we'd once shared. </div>
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So here I was in the town of my youth, attending the church of my youth after being away eight years, starting over with my sister (who had also recently moved back) as my only friend. </div>
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I made friends my own age quickly, and began to get involved in ministry to moms through Mothers of Preschoolers mostly because I needed it so badly myself. </div>
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After years of involvement there, and holding leadership roles among women my own age, still I remained mentor-less. </div>
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When I figured out what I'd been missing that day in my bathroom, I chalked it up to two things: </div>
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1) I wasn't placing myself in circles with women in my church or community who were older and wiser than myself. How were they supposed to know I had a need if they didn't know me?</div>
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2) A large portion of the women older and wiser than myself might be assuming my generation of women and mothers don't need them or want them in our lives, therefore are afraid to reach out for fear of rejection.</div>
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When I was six months pregnant with my fourth child, I sat on a stage in Kansas City, Missouri on a panel in front of a large room of female ministry leaders who were a generation or so ahead of me pleading with them to mentor us. </div>
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I watched their eyes widen with tears in the corners and heads shake in disbelief as I told them we needed them. We wanted them. We ached for their presence in our lives. </div>
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And that we were sorry, we just don't know how to communicate it. Because sometimes we don't know what we're missing. </div>
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The internet has distracted us. We think Google is a fine replacement for another woman who's been there. </div>
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We think social media and online Facebook groups are suitable trade-outs for sitting together on a blanket at a park catching up while our kids play and hers are getting married and having babies of their own. </div>
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We're prideful. We think we shouldn't need help. We should be able to do this on our own. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
We think she won't understand our lives. Our complicated, messy lives. But we don't always accept that she has her own messy and complicated, and gets us more than we know. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't written about it publicly here in this space, and will soon, but we're moving all the way across the continent later this summer, and I've just now started a relationship here at my church, here in this town, that I believe would have and could have turned into this sort of mentoring relationship. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All it took was me reaching out and saying HELP. I need you. Can we talk? It's been a precious thing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I believe God has placed and will place mentors ahead of me in our new town, in our new life. But it's going to take some work on my part too. I'll need to reach out and make myself vulnerable. And do you know what? I'm so excited. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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There's much more to say on the topic, more of which I hope to talk further on. I'm just a mom trying to tap this out before my kids come barrelling up the stairs for breakfast. The struggle is very real. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Before we step away and move on with our day, how about we take inventory of how we're truly doing in this regard?</div>
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<br /></div>
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How are we doing at reaching out to women ahead of us and behind us? </div>
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How are we at accepting help and vulnerable friendship?</div>
<div>
How are we at giving help and being a safe place? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Have you been missing these kinds of relationships too? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-29975136414045008802016-05-05T12:41:00.002-04:002016-05-05T14:07:52.422-04:003 Questions to Ask Ourselves About Friendship<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Friendships with other women can be absolutely beautiful. But as we all know, they can be tricky little specimens too.<br />
<br />
In my younger adult years, I used to slather myself across a wide expanse of friendships. It's in my extroverted nature to go deep and fast with new friends I believe can be trusted, so this habit has helped me make lots of friends through the years.<br />
<br />
It's a great trait until you've overshared just after the first hello and things turn awkward. Or you've got too many people to keep up with, and you just want to make it stop.<br />
<br />
As I creep closer to 40, I'm having to learn how to do friendship smarter. Maybe you want to do friendship smarter too.<br />
<br />
I've begun asking myself some important questions to help gauge where I'm at and where my friend or potential friend is at, so we can all do this thing like grownups.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Is she interested in pursuing me? </b></span><br />
<br />
I'm allergic to pursuing friends who just aren't into it. I don't want to be annoying, but I also don't like not trying. Sometimes it's hard to tell: Is she not engaging much or at all because she does friendship differently than I would, needs me to reach out to her, or is she wishing I would go away and leave her alone?<br />
<br />
I'm learning to watch and see, and not push myself onto someone I'm unsure about. Trying a little communication here and there, and see if she bites. Though often I wonder if I'm too much. Too chatty. Too willing to share. Too eager about them or even my own life.<br />
<br />
The thing is, if the other person is interested in being in your life, they will find ways to put themselves in your life. They will call. They will text. They will engage on purpose, and if they live close by, they will seek out ways to be with you.<br />
<br />
Sometimes that truth hurts. Because truly, the proof is in the reaching out and reciprocating. Does she? Will she? Can she? Am I speaking a solely extroverted language here? <i>I dunno. </i>Introverts help me out. <br />
<br />
Are the rules the same regardless of our personalities?<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>What are my motives? </b></span><br />
<br />
Another cringe-worthy question. Why am I pursuing this friendship? Are my motives pure?<br />
<br />
Do I simply enjoy her company and her ways with a desire to know and see more? Or am I motivated out of a selfish place?<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What will friendship with her do for me? How will it make me appear to others? How can I get her to see how great and exciting I am?</i><br />
<br />
If there's an angle behind our motives, we'd be wise to set this one aside for a time until we can pursue her with right intentions.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Am I being a good conversationalist? </b></span><br />
<br />
In any friendship new or seasoned, conversation is a key ingredient. To be a good conversationalist and to keep friendships growing, there has to be a balance of listening, acknowledging, and sharing.<br />
<br />
We can't just be a good listener and acknowledger and grow a closer friendship.<br />
<br />
We can't just share our stories and tell our news and grow a closer friendship.<br />
<br />
To grow a closer friendship, both parties have to be willing to go both places. Listening and sharing. Sharing and listening.<br />
<br />
There are times I have hung up the phone and nearly burst because the person on the other end of the line didn't ask a single thing about me or my life. I asked all the questions, and they were happy to answer with all their things. This has to go both ways.<br />
<br />
Unless of course, you or your friend is in crisis, or it's just a quick informational phone call. But we should at least check-in, ask how our friend is doing, and listen like we mean it.<br />
<br />
Friendship isn't just about us. We're to serve and build others up too. But in order for a relationship to go anywhere but the friendship graveyard, it cannot remain focused on just one person.<br />
<br />
Point blank: if the person you're pursuing friendship with doesn't ever ask you questions, generally speaking, they aren't interested in furthering the relationship.<br />
<br />
Or maybe they want to, but don't know how.<br />
<br />
<div>
You can never grow closer to another human being if you are only telling <u>your</u> stories, relaying<u> your</u> news, and flinging all the things <u>you've</u> been dying to say at the other person. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's a one-sided relationship and your friend happens to like hearing themselves talk. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>I would know.</i> I've been that friend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Let's talk friendship.</b> What challenges do you face in making new friends? In keeping friends? What kinds of questions do you ask yourself when it comes to friendship?</div>
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-6816170545098867602016-04-21T20:52:00.001-04:002016-04-22T16:11:54.391-04:00So You're Mad at Your Real Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Let's just say Monday was not my favorite day ever.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It got so bad, that we packed a quick lunch and bolted out the door to who knows where, skipping naps and everything. I could not stay home amidst the frustrating attitudes and actions displayed by a couple of the kids. I was also upset at myself for not handling it better. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We did absolutely nothing except drive around, take in some scenery we've seen a thousand times, and stop at church to go to the bathroom and play on the lawn. <i>Free therapy, I tell you. </i>It was just enough time for me to truly think about why I was so disillusioned with it all, and to talk to God about it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
What exactly was my problem? Yeah, 8 kids is a lot. Yeah, some of the kids have "unique" needs with repetitive issues that test me to the core. But where was my long-suffering, love, joy, and patience (among other things)?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I pinned down the truth of it. I was mad. Mad that this is my life. Mad that tension headaches are a daily occurrence. Mad that what God called us to as a family is so darn hard. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Have you ever been downright mad that your current circumstances are your actual real life? Like not just for a week or two, but your honest-to-goodness, somebody-please-send-a-nanny-or-three season of life? Perhaps years of life? </div>
<div>
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Mad. <script src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
But at the very same time, the very same people who are contributing to our "mad at my real life" state of mind also make us gloriously thankful. It's this interesting mix. At times I want to run far, far away, but I never do because I love them so, so much. Plus, they're watching me. I want them to see how a struggling believer hangs in there for the long-haul.<br />
<br />
When giving thanks in all circumstances is the bar set in Scripture, one can get to feeling pretty guilty about being mad at anything placed in our life by the Lord. Especially our kids. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At the end of the day, a drive-thru vanilla latte helped, as did blasting the Tony Bennett station during and after dinner. Watching the young ones sway to the crooners helped too. But what really helped is my husband. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We help each other see. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That night he helped me see that it's normal to be mad at your right now life at times. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Even Jesus asked the Father if there was any other way their goal of saving humanity could be accomplished. <i>Does it have to be this? This cross? This pain?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
In most cases, the Father says, <i>"Yes. It does." </i>Just like he did with Jesus. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our right now life might be the way <i>through</i> this season or this frustration. Much to our chagrin, we have to go through to get to the other side. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And we can't forget that a whole lotta character is produced through these trials. (Romans 5:3-4) That's the good part we're after.<br />
<br />
So is there any other way, God?<br />
<i>Maybe.</i> But the answer might be that we need to keep going.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-88236626805309058692016-04-09T04:00:00.001-04:002016-04-09T04:16:59.845-04:00Let Someone Else Praise You <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One recent afternoon, as I was putting a huge pot of
water to boil on the stove to start dinner, two tiny little boys I’d never seen
in my life came wandering aimlessly up our driveway.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There was no mama in sight, and no car waiting like before whenever a child came to the door selling raffle
tickets or magazine subscriptions. There was nobody except two mousy brown-haired boys wearing backpacks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The older one was around six or seven, the younger didn’t
look a day over five. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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They came cautiously, yet confidently. At least the older
brother seemed to know what he was doing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I greeted them on the porch to save them the agony of
deciding whether or not to knock on a stranger's door. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>“Hi guys. What’s going on?” </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The older tiny guy proceeded to tell me their bus driver
dropped them off at the wrong stop, and they didn’t know where home was. What
brave little guys! I know they had walked quite a ways just to get our house
because I never saw any bus.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After asking a few questions and calling their mom because
oldest little dude knew his mom’s number (winning!), I figured out they were a
couple miles from home. What. How this can happen is beyond me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After reassuring the panicked mom I was a safe
person <i>(hello, mom of eight kids),</i>
she agreed that it would be helpful if I brought them home to her instead of
her coming to collect them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loaded them
up in our 15-passenger with three of my own kids to make them feel
comfortable, and headed off toward their house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I drove, my mom-dar was working overtime. <i>What if they had chosen the home of a person
who wouldn’t have taken good care of them? Why did the ever-lovin’ bus
driver drop them off miles from home? Why did they come to our house, out of
all the houses on their walk to nowhere? <o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
In the middle of all of these questions was also this embarrassingly telling one: <i>What would these little boys have done without ME? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>Oops. There I go again making myself the hero.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I called their mom to inform and reassure her and drove them home. I did the right things and thought fast on my feet. I hope any person with a heart would have done the same.<br />
<br />
It's easy to slip into hero mode because it's tempting to want our work to be noticed and praised.<br />
<br />
I'm not proud of it, but I'm an internal eye-roller when <i>other</i> people peg themselves as the hero and tell big stories touting their heroic help or good deeds in a situation.<br />
<br />
<i>"I did _______. And then I __________ and ______. They were so appreciative of my help. I'm just so glad I was there when I was." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I guess it bothers me when other people praise themselves because I'm prone to do the same and dislike it so much in myself.<br />
<br />
It's inviting, yet repulsive all at the same time. It's inviting because recognition for a job well done feels good. It's repulsive because it's pride.<br />
<br />
We are supposed to step in. It's the way of God's people.<br />
<br />
We do heroic things. Some of us do extremely difficult, inconvenient, and costly things in our everyday lives for the good of others.<br />
<br />
But even then, should be we drawing attention to ourselves for it?<br />
<br />
God's Word speaks about it in this way:<br />
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<br />
Let someone else praise you.<br />
<br />
Such simple words. When we try to convince others of our praiseworthiness by recounting all the ways we've been plain awesome, it's awkward.<br />
<br />
What if no one saw us and there is no chance for another person to praise us? <strike>How will they know how great we are?</strike> <i>(You know it's true.)</i><br />
<br />
If nobody hears about it, did it ever really happen? Will anyone ever know what we went through or how hard we've worked unless we tell them all about it?<br />
<br />
Maybe not.<br />
<br />
But is that really so bad?<br />
<br />
The good deeds we do in secret will be rewarded by God (Matthew 6:1-4), and the good deeds someone happens to notice <i>might</i> be recognized here in this life.<br />
<br />
Are we okay with that? Can we stop seeking to attract admirers? Can we recognize it as pride, and work to eradicate it from our lives as we're instructed in scripture?<br />
<br />
It's what God is asking of us.<br />
<br />
Do the right and noble and heroic thing.<br />
Don't boast about it.<br />
Do seek the reward that comes straight from God.<br />
<br />
Let someone else praise you. One day of being plain awesome at a time.<br />
<br /></div>
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-56515654749109212552016-03-23T02:44:00.001-04:002016-03-23T02:46:03.278-04:00When Staying is Harder Than Quitting<script src="//assets.pinterest.com/js/pinit.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
Ever so often, I have the overwhelming urge to quit.<br />
<br />
I want to quit mothering when I'm mega-overwhelmed with all the ages, stages and issues under my roof. Bolting out the door seems to be the only answer.<br />
<br />
I wish the exhaustion would cease and the fruit of the effort would magically settle in.<br />
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<br />
I want to quit speaking into anybody else's life. I want to be done working toward a life of ministry writing and speaking. And I want to be done having people know more about me than I'd prefer.<br />
<br />
I want to be quiet. Obscure. Under the radar. <br />
<br />
But then again I don't. <br />
<br />
Because even if I chose to figuratively stop doing the hard and draining work of mothering all these people and literally stop speaking into the lives of others, I couldn't. <br />
It's in my nature to do so.<br />
<br />
I'm drawn to be intentional with my kids and be with my kids, even when it's mind-numbingly mundane.<br />
I'm beckoned to sit and tap on the keys and fill notebooks, even on the days when I see no purpose in it.<br />
<br />
Even if I chose to stop formulating messages, I couldn't. <br />
Because they involuntarily run through my head each day, and are frantically written down lest I forget them.<br />
<br />
But most importantly, I couldn't stop because I'm wired to do these things. Quitting would be like attempting to unravel my DNA and manipulate it into some balloon animal creation that slightly resembles a wiener dog. It just wouldn't work.<br />
<br />
I'm wired to mother and to minister to other women. Even when it all feels like it's going nowhere in the fast lane most of the time.<br />
<br />
When I remember God wired me to do these things, my heart is hushed. My resolve is strengthened and my eagle-eyes reset their sights on the far-off finish line God has set before me. I'm in this for the long-haul because He is asking me to be.<br />
<br />
Plus, all of the hard stuff can also be gloriously fun and rewarding in the very same day. Like, crazy good.<br />
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What do we do about those days when we want to quit doing the things we're called to? Those days where our lives aren't gloriously fun or rewarding, but instead are downright hard and depressing? Staying feels harder than quitting on those days.<br />
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Working at that marriage. Parenting that child with needs so far above your ability to deal. Showing love to that friend whose life has taken her down a different path than our own. Taking those college classes. Running that business. Taking care of that aging parent. <br />
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Stay is a powerful force.<br />
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It's tempting to look around and notice how easy life seems to be playing out for everyone else. It can be so deceiving.<br />
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When things appear to be stable, good, and thriving in the lives of those around us, it's definitely not because it's been easy for them. Truly healthy individuals, truly strong relationships, and truly successful ventures are only such because someone spent a good portion of their time and effort working at it. <br />
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Thriving doesn't come easily. Healthy relationships don't come without an investment.<br />
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We've all heard triumphant stories of people who didn't give up. Like the <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/01/how-to-get-through-the-dark-places-thejesusproject-2/" target="_blank">Cliff Young</a>s of this world and <a href="http://www.onlinecollege.org/2010/02/16/50-famously-successful-people-who-failed-at-first/" target="_blank">household names</a> who have persevered against crazy odds.<br />
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These verses in James 1:2-4 have been encouraging to me when persevering has felt impossible:<br />
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<i>"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."</i><br />
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The hardship we experience as we keep at it isn't where the joy is found. I've often been confused by this, or felt like I'm some lousy Christ-follower. The joy comes through the persevering. It's in the reward that's found <i>as</i> we keep at it. Faith results in perseverance. Perseverance produces maturity and completeness. I can thank God for trials because of what they produce in me.<br />
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<i>Faith. Perseverance. Maturity. Completeness. </i><br />
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Staying may be harder than quitting, but the results speak for themselves.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>** A wee disclaimer: I am not advocating for staying in abusive situations. Please get help. Speaking to someone from your church or a trusted friend or family member is a good place to begin. xo</i></span><br />
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<br />Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-39409045511957744212016-03-11T01:00:00.002-05:002016-03-11T01:00:37.580-05:00The Twinkle is Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've started and restarted this blog post too many times. </div>
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How does one start blogging again after two months away? I can't just start talking about my favorite music or how we should all learn to love without the limits we so often put in place. I can't start there, so I'll just say hello.</div>
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Hello, there. I'm still here. </div>
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I'm active on my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AmandaBaconPage" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>, popping in every day or so. So if you're on Facebook, won't you join me over there? </div>
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I'm also busy writing and podcasting over at <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/" target="_blank">The Masterpiece Mom</a>. Our podcast is also available on iTunes, which is so fun. But it was in this place I began writing almost 10 years ago, and it is this place that holds such a special place in my heart. </div>
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<i>Well, this wasn't the first place I began writing. </i>There was the book I wrote in 5th grade. Do you remember <i>Sweet Valley Twins</i>? <i>Ahem. </i>I read every single one of those books, paying my hard-earned allowance for them. After reading a crazy number of stories about Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield, naturally I wrote a story called <i>Triplets of Long Beach</i>. Yes, I did. That was the last time I wrote fiction. You can all thank me for that. </div>
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I moved on to loving writing reports and term papers in high school and college. And technically, I started writing online two blog addresses ago, but I think you get what I'm saying. I guess I've been a writer for a long time. </div>
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<i>Hello, again. </i></div>
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I hereby pledge to post at least every other week (on the weeks I'm not writing for my other site) for the next two months to get back in the habit. Will you hold me to that? Come knock on my virtual "door" in the comments or on the Facebook page if I'm not holding up my end. You have my permission. </div>
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Life has been tough. <i>So</i> tough this last year. The kind where you cry through nearly every worship service. That's the main reason for my absence. I just haven't known what to say. When writing for The Masterpiece Mom, I can compartmentalize and write about mom stuff, and it keeps things neutral. But over here, I write about some different things, and sometimes they hit a little too close to home. </div>
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I wrote <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/?p=3747" target="_blank">Into the Presence of God {A Prayer for the Hard Times}</a> during one of the hardest weeks, and <a href="http://www.amandabacon.com/2015/10/the-girl-in-next-seat.html" target="_blank">The Girl in the Next Seat</a> a few weeks after. I needed to keep writing. But it wasn't easy. There was nothing new to say. </div>
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But things have turned a corner. Nothing's changed, really. The circumstance is still just as difficult. But when God plants peace in your heart, things do change. </div>
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I'm doing well. For the first time in almost a year, I can actually say that with a familiar twinkle in my eye. That twinkle's been away. </div>
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Have you been in that place of unexplainable peace when the storm is still raging? Isn't it just so welcomed? </div>
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Our standards change and we become content with things not quite looking the way we'd hoped or imagined. I'm guessing that's the state of mind we're intended to have all along.</div>
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So hello, again. It's nice to be back. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have a friend who is incredibly gifted in an area I plain stink at. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My friend Amber has the gift of food. Yes, food. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNVpKsujnjFXBF27ZIq_KFUl-0IcIwGzcHi9ouilJiw6P-QJ7U4XvBOGFEAhaBVk1WggouMgGID2jt4IyMo88XilmFMSyF5jl1CD5EG7NvZwY7bPZ0uqGUlZxtwEeFxYMI-JNKIFl9Y0/s1600/The+Right+Thing+at+the+Right+Time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNVpKsujnjFXBF27ZIq_KFUl-0IcIwGzcHi9ouilJiw6P-QJ7U4XvBOGFEAhaBVk1WggouMgGID2jt4IyMo88XilmFMSyF5jl1CD5EG7NvZwY7bPZ0uqGUlZxtwEeFxYMI-JNKIFl9Y0/s640/The+Right+Thing+at+the+Right+Time.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She has gifted the women in our community with more meals delivered to their doorstep than I can count. After my last baby was born, she delivered twenty-four meals to our home in a span of six months. <i>What?</i> <i>Twenty-four. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Each time she pulled into our driveway, I stood near tears (and sometimes tears), with so much gratitude for her selflessness, her time, and her sacrifice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our home was filled with its own special brand of crazy as we followed the Lord into the births of five biological kids and three adoptions. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">I would be misleading you if I let on that it merely </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">was </i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">crazy, because it just IS crazy — like all of the time. On some days during this season, the enormity of my role as a mom of a big adoptive family threatened to eat me alive.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Enter Amber. Without knowing the current status of my sanity, she would call to see if she and her kids could stop by for a little bit the next day and bring lunch for us all to eat, dinner for the family that evening, and three meals for the freezer. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">She would never say she’s gifted or special in any way. She just does what comes naturally to her. She goes about it quietly, never touting her kindness for the world to see. She loves deeply in the best way she knows how. With food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Any woman recovering from surgery, sickness, or the birth of a child, knows how hard it is to prepare food for ourselves. I have never been so touched by the selfless kindness of a friend as I have with this friend’s offering to our family. She was Jesus with a casserole and a bag of rolls. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God used Amber to teach me to love even when it looks small, because we never know when our obedience in serving will be just the right thing at just the right time for a person in need. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>This challenges me to give and serve with my whole heart in the area of my gifting. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why do we always view our offerings as “nothing much,” when they most certainly are not? </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">What seemed to Amber like a big bag of nothingness delivered to my doorstep, was actually a rescue line dropped right into the pit of my despair at the exact moment of my need.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To this day, the kids still rave about Miss Amber’s enchiladas. And sometimes she drops off a panful just because she knows it. </span></div>
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-30654497813577213472015-11-23T21:00:00.001-05:002015-11-23T21:00:58.766-05:00When You Feel Like a Weirdo, But Hope It's Not True<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some days it feels like I was gifted with the jackpot at the end of the rainbow of quirky traits. I can recall a phone number I've seen written out, even if I've never dialed it. I have the ability to care deeply and quickly about someone I don't know all that well. I cry when moments hold the slightest meaning even when I've promised myself I wouldn't. I'm genuinely enthusiastic about other peoples' lives and interests. And then there's this little gem: Even years later, I'll remember more than is socially normal about a person I've only met once.<br />
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It's taken some time, but I can appreciate these qualities now. Though sometimes I get fearful that potential friends or new connections won't be so comfortable with the real me and it will be awkward, so I try to tone it down. I wouldn't want to scare anyone away by my enthusiasm. I wouldn't want to turn anyone off by being the truest version of me. <i>Wait... what? </i><br />
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I think I can safely say I'm not alone in this. Some of us change the way we speak, act, react, hold ourselves, dress, and even the way we think about things, all for the sake of appearing normal. A little more like the rest. Blending with the look and feel of the masses.<br />
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There've been countless times I've allowed myself to believe I was made with faulty parts. Tears were not supposed to flow unless I told them to. Therefore I must be too emotional. And I certainly wasn't supposed to embarrass myself by remembering every single detail about a person I've talked to for thirty seconds once in my life. Obviously I must be a weirdo. These people have no recollection of me. While, I naturally remember the four freckles under their right eye, where they grew up, along with their first and last name. <i>Embarrassing.</i> Though helpful at times too. But still, embarrassing and unintentionally stalker-ish.<br />
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In Psalm 139:14, the Psalmist spoke words of praise to God about the way he was made: <i>"Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."</i> Do our souls know and believe the truth about ourselves? Do we believe God's work in making us is wonderful? It's difficult to praise God for something we think is weird.<br />
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So when we believe the way Jesus created us is strange, cringe-worthy, or accidental, there's something wrong with our way of thinking. We must remember how intentional God is and set our minds there instead. We must remember we're set apart. Our quirks are no accident.<br />
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All this talk of weirdos and interesting traits makes me think of John the Baptist. I'm sorry, but it does. We generally think of John as this bold, insect munching, scratchy camel fur-wearing guy. He <i>was</i> these things, but more importantly, this cousin of Jesus was entrusted with preparing Israel to meet the Messiah in the flesh. John was to serve as the emcee for the main event -- to introduce the main person: Jesus.<br />
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To us John might have seemed a bit strange. To them he was considered a fanatic. But to Jesus he was considered the <i>"greatest of all men" </i>(Matthew 11:11) because of his obedience and all out commitment to carry out the task he was given.<br />
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I just love that he didn't seem at all concerned about fitting in, but he did make it a point to concern himself with making sure his life fit inside God's story. He wasn't out to be the most unique or most outlandish person. His goal was obedience. He accomplished this by walking forward in the middle of God's will for him, fully himself no matter how crazy it looked.<br />
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Nothing is wasted with God. The traits he gave you, the traits he gave me, the traits he gave John the Baptist were on purpose. Hold your head high, walk in His ways for you, and make obedience your target. Your quirky traits will serve to make the journey more interesting, and they certainly won't be holding you back.Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-30932519844201030902015-11-19T19:59:00.000-05:002015-11-19T19:59:05.955-05:005 Things I'd Tell You About Marriage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This month, Jeremy and I celebrate the 20th anniversary of our very first date.<br />
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Back in 1995, he had hair, I had braces. He looked ready for his debut in a toothpaste commercial, I looked ready for the first day of seventh grade. </div>
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We met at the weekly meeting of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship on campus at the University of Alaska Anchorage, a few weeks into my freshman year. A new friend of mine brought his oldest friend along to InterVarsity to meet me. He was convinced we'd hit it off. I was clueless about their plan, but was quite happy to see Jeremy, whom I'd recognized from my years living in the same area of the state as his family growing up. </div>
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A couple weeks after meeting, Jeremy invited me to the movies to see the original Toy Story. We were adults, but just barely. We had the nervous tingles throughout night, the kind where your palms sweat and your heart pounds in your chest. When the date was over, he walked me up the steps to my apartment and presented me with my very own VHS copy of Little Women (the Winona Ryder version, of course.) He knew what I liked. <i>Swoon. </i><br />
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We were married three and a half years later in July 1999, after we grew up a bit (a lot.) Our marriage is a joy, but we're human, so not every moment is fun. But you know that already because you're human too. When you've got two people committed to the Lord and each other who are also on the strong-willed side? You've got us. But the good thing is that being strong-willed helps us fight fiercely for our marriage. Being strong-willed makes us stronger in our convictions about the covenant relationship we're in. Plus, we're in love. We appreciate each other. We complement each other. Jeremy is so good to me.<br />
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Last summer, as we celebrated our 16th anniversary, I wrote down what made our relationship thrive, even with a houseful of kids. Because let's face it, having children does not make this any easier. After thinking back over our life together thus far, I came up with this list.<br />
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If you were to ask me what has helped us arrive at place where we're stronger than ever, through trials and fire, I'd tell you these 5 things:<br />
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<b>1. Ask Jesus who He wants you to be as a spouse, </b>listen well, and then be that person.<br />
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<b>2. Be willing to forgive, </b>then gracefully give it with no bitter strings attached.<br />
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<b>3. Have a team mentality. </b>You're in this together helping and serving each other and your family toward a common goal. Decide together what that goal is.<br />
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<b>4. Decide selfishness has no place. </b>It will only divide, no matter how justified it feels and no matter how badly you want what you want.<br />
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<b>5. Love unconditionally </b>in a way that mirrors Christ's love for us. Hard. Good. Worth it.<br />
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Being married has molded and grown us in some really uncomfortable ways. But we're better for it, and thank God for the gift of each other.<br />
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What have you learned from marriage that you'd like to share?<br />
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-78657615026150149882015-10-08T02:18:00.000-04:002015-10-08T11:50:52.325-04:00The Girl in the Next Seat<br />
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The room was full when I walked in to find a seat that night. My eyes were scanning the rows of chairs searching for a seat next to someone I didn't know well. I wasn't hoping to meet someone new. No, on this night I wanted to hide.<br />
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I knew I'd be in a roomful of ladies I attended church with and would normally enjoy engaging in conversation with, being the extrovert that I am, but on this night I was fragile. I knew God wanted me to be filling one of those seats, and I truly wanted to be there. But a vulnerable place in my soul left me wanting the opposite of what I normally seek.<br />
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I wonder if you've been there too. Your world feels heavy and conversations are hard. That was me that night as I sat down between two women who would be neutral. Do you know what I mean? They wouldn't know me well enough to be able to see through my smile, and I would be safe for a time.<br />
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When I pulled into the parking lot, I almost turned around and left to <a href="https://instagram.com/p/8CbqR2C_0q/?taken-by=amanda_baconbits" target="_blank">wander Target for the second Thursday night in a row. </a> For a few moments, I let fear mess with me. But instead of high-tailing it out of there, I decided to be a big girl and face the unknown inside the building.<br />
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I'm usually an engager. One who is eager and happy to connect. And I'm not usually one to shy away from a challenge, or run away from a difficulty. This time it was different. I wanted to run. <i>Oh, how I wanted to run.</i><br />
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When I sat down, I realized that the woman on my left was one I'd seen around our community through the years, but had never had the pleasure of meeting. She was a little younger than myself and sat by her mother. A mother who was protective, though proud of this daughter of hers with special needs.<br />
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As we sat through the event, my new friend watched my every move. She tried to be sly, peering out the corner of her eye with her neck turned ever so slightly my way. She watched me take note after note in my Eiffel Tower notebook. She would occasionally crane her neck to investigate my scarf and necklace. She laughed when I laughed. She won my heart without saying a word.<br />
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After sitting by me for forty-five whole minutes, she leaned in close, pressing her arm and shoulder into mine, and whispered, <i>"Hi...." </i>It was the longest, most beautiful "hi" of my life. She saw me. She liked me. She welcomed me.<br />
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I knew right then and there I was supposed to be there that night, even sitting there in my un-brave and neutral spot so God could show me He sees, likes, and welcomes me.<br />
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After the class wrapped up, I stood and shook hands with my new friend as I introduced myself. We chatted about her favorite shows on HGTV and I learned about the crush she has on one of the hosts. Then she said three little words that held big meaning. She looked me square in the eyes and said, <i>"I... love... you."</i><br />
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<i>Twice. </i>She said it twice to make sure I was listening.<br />
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Her mom smiled and even seemed a bit embarrassed. But I knew this girl was a messenger. She looked straight into my soul and delivered Jesus to me.<br />
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We all have lonely and painful times. We've all felt so vulnerable we want to run. I can even bet the next time you're sitting in a roomful of ladies, you don't have to look very far to find someone who needs your smile, who needs to know she's seen.<br />
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Will we show her we see her, we like her, and we welcome her like my new friend did for me?<br />
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I left the event with my head held high. Sure, I snuck out without making any intentional connections or eye contact (<i>I'll have you know</i>), but I'd received what I'd come for. Along with some stellar Bible teaching, I'd seen the face of God.<br />
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<i>"Do you want to get well?"</i><br />
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These words from the story of Jesus healing the paralytic man at the pool of Bethesda in John chapter 5, rattle around in my brain. This man Jesus made well had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. At the point of their interaction, he had been suffering since before the Messiah he was speaking to was even born.<br />
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He sat alongside the healing pool in hopes of being cured by the waters. The first person to get into the water after it was supernaturally stirred would be the one to receive healing.<br />
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<i>"This story doesn't make sense," </i>I'd often think. It confused me for years.<br />
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<i>"Was there no one, after all those years of seeing him waiting by the pool, who would help him in when the time came? What is wrong with people? If not, why didn't he just ask someone? Why didn't they form a line or draw numbers so they'd know who was next?" </i><br />
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I never saw it as the man's or anyone's fault, per se. But I realize now that the point of this story isn't about fault. It's more of a circumstance, I guess. Sometimes I read too much into things searching for a lesson to be learned.<br />
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The point of the story is Jesus.<br />
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Jesus wasn't saying, <i>"Get up, I'll help you miraculously get into the pool."</i><br />
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He said, <i>"Get up and walk." </i>You're healed, now walk like it.<br />
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The man had no idea who Jesus was. (v. 13) So it wasn't like he had a giant faith leading to his healing. In fact, he had no faith at all. But Jesus did it anyways. He released healing power into someone who had absolutely zero faith in Him. <i>Huh. </i><br />
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Jesus is not limited by your faith or my faith. The releasing of His power is not dependent on you or I. This is good for me to ponder. He does move in response to our prayers. But not always. We don't always ask in accordance to His will. Sometimes I think, <i>"If I just had enough faith, this health issue would disappear or that friendship would be resurrected." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>It's good for us to remember that Jesus' power isn't limited within the boundaries of our faith. In the pages of the Bible, we see that Jesus usually healed a person in response to their faith like the story of Jesus making well the sick woman who reached out and touched his robe. (Mark 5:24-34)<br />
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But not here. No faith was required. So this leads me to look more closely at the words of Jesus after He heals the man.<br />
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Key words are spoken when Jesus tells the man to get up and walk, and the man does. He doesn't argue, <i>"Walk? Yeah, rrrright. There's no way." </i><br />
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The man simply gets up and starts walking. He's been healed!<br />
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This has me thinking about us. We've been healed too. If we're in Christ, we've been healed spiritually right down into depths of our souls. Some of us have been healed on the outside too. In the form of physical bodily healing. <br />
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In either case, Jesus would never have us stay sitting by the pool resisting His call to us to get up and walk once we've been healed. But sometimes we do. I still baffle myself with the ways I'm still sitting by the pool.<br />
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I hang onto bitterness Christ has already conquered.<br />
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I cling to control as a means to keep everyone safe when Christ is our safety.<br />
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I allow injustice to eat away at me when Christ brings ultimate justice.<br />
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Tired and spent, I ask myself, <i>"Amanda, do you want to get well?" </i><br />
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Christ is calling us away from the pool. We've been healed. Let's walk like it.<br />
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<br />Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-79646801444462650362015-08-07T23:25:00.001-04:002015-08-07T23:25:35.960-04:00Mandatory RestThree weeks ago, Jeremy and I flew four thousand miles away from home for our first-ever week to ourselves in sixteen years of marriage.<br />
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It always feels wrong to board a plane and willingly leave the place your most beloved people are, but this time it was different.<br />
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For the first time since becoming a mom nearly fifteen years ago, I didn't shed a single tear in the days leading up to saying goodbye to our crew or even in the moment of actually parting and driving away toward the airport. And I didn't even feel bad about it.<br />
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Somewhere in the hustle and straight crazy that was this last year, I'd lost myself.<br />
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So when it was time to leave, all I could do was sigh, smile, and know that in no time at all, we'd back in the game of parenting eight children and I was so ready to be in that restful space that would only exist if we left.<br />
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If I was going to find myself again, it was going to be by getting on an airplane and going away for a time. God had provided the time away and we were confident He would fill us back up to overflowing with Himself while we were gone.<br />
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For the first two to three days, we couldn't even talk about the kids or the kind of parents we wanted to be when we got back. I joked about us having PTSD.<br />
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In many ways, it was no joke.<br />
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Rest had become mandatory if we were going to be productive at all anymore. If we were going to have the ability to have clarity and act with wisdom. Two things we wanted so badly.<br />
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In the months leading up to leaving, we were running on fumes. It wasn't pretty. We were desperate.<br />
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Maybe we waited too long to have this much time away by ourselves. Maybe we wouldn't have been quite so needy had we done it sooner. Now we know. We need respite like this more often. <br />
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Or maybe we need more smaller two to three-day breaks spread throughout the year.<br />
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The point isn't really how long or how often. The point is: people need rest.<br />
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What if we stopped putting off rest when we need it most? Before the breaking point hits and before desperation hangs so heavy you don't know how you'll go on.<br />
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Jesus regularly rested away from the push of people, even his closest companions, the disciples. What sticks out most to me though?<br />
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He never once apologized for it.<br />
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<i>"I'm so sorry friends, but I'm fatigued and need a break. I should be able to do all of this. I should be more together. I'm sure I'm failing you somehow... but I must go. On second thought, maybe I'll stay around a bit longer because I'm so valuable to you." </i><br />
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Uh.<br />
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<i>Never. </i>We've never heard anything like that from Him.<br />
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Maybe He didn't even really need a rest. You know, because of the whole fully God part? But maybe He knew <i>we would</i>, and we wouldn't take it seriously unless He showed us how to do it well.<br />
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He was humble. Which meant he didn't think so low of the crowds and His disciples to think they couldn't survive without His company for a time.<br />
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On the other hand, He didn't think so highly of Himself that He had to stick around and save the world at every moment. <i>(I had to. You know I did.)</i><br />
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We get so weird about rest. Is it really so bad if we get a little behind on the responsibilities that just don't matter in the grand scheme, if we'll be paralyzed with stress and unable to perform the duties that do if we overwork ourselves?<br />
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When we fail to take mandatory rests with loved ones or without, it leaves us unable to do anything well. Especially the stuff that matters.<br />
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<br />Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-35772681641580701992015-07-07T04:27:00.000-04:002015-07-15T03:48:03.742-04:00Things I Learned in My 38th Year Yesterday was my 38th birthday.<br />
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I don't know that I've ever written a birthday post before, but this last year held some memorable landmarks, silly realizations, and tremendous growth. It feels like the right time to pause and document. </div>
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Don't worry, I won't make you sit through a list of 38 things. <i>I don't think. </i>I'm not quite sure where this list will end, but if you'll stick with me, you'll learn some things I took away from my 38th year:</div>
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1. I can keep houseplants alive. I love the green and life plants add to a home, I've just never been able to keep them looking lovely until this year. I currently have seven, and I'm happy to report all are happy and healthy. We won't talk about the succulent I managed to kill over the winter. Who kills a succulent? A very talented person, that's who.</div>
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2. Never fail, I lie awake all night the first night (and sometimes the second) I'm away from home on a trip. I didn't actually discover this cruel reality this last year, but I was reminded of it five or so times. <i>The worst. </i>No lavender, no sleep aide, no anything helps. Boo. Reading makes me fall asleep every time, but for some reason I don't think of it when I have insomnia. I'll try my best to remember for next time. </div>
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3. The theme of the books I've read this last year have followed a pattern. Quiet, whitespace, and breathing room. I only read non-fiction. It's this weird thing. I've tried fiction countless times, but I just can't do it anymore. Maybe when my brain can relax and I don't need as much "help", fiction will become my friend again like when I was a child or young adult. </div>
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4. Sad, but true. I've watched less movies and shows this year of life than any other. Life as we know it leaves Jeremy and I feeling like we're 80. We're pooped. He commutes 2.5 hours every work day, and I'm taking care of the masses and completing my work when he's gone. We love a good movie, so I'm hoping this next year will be the year of the movie night comeback. </div>
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5. I've learned to make our home one I really love. One <i>we</i> really love. Thanks to reading <a href="http://www.thenester.com/landing/the-nesting-place-book" target="_blank">The Nesting Place</a> by Myquillyn Smith and <a href="http://tidyingup.com/" target="_blank">The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up</a> by Marie Kondo, I've gotten rid of things we own that don't spark joy (Kondo) and have learned "It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful." (Smith) Such good reads. I've gotten rid of half our books (lots and lots) and have created spaces we truly feel cozy living in with little clutter. That is, if you don't count the perpetual clean laundry pile in the family room that always needs folding. Ten peoples' laundry. Can you even? </div>
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6. I love old things and old people. There's a story to be told if we'll listen. </div>
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7. Being outside makes me come alive. Again, I didn't just learn that, but it's been especially true this year. </div>
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8. God uses heartbreak to teach His truth and show enormous love. I didn't know it as much until my 38th year. </div>
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9. I learned to never give up hope. Right at the moment you're not expecting it, God just might blow your mind with a breakthrough. </div>
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10. Last year for my birthday, all I wanted was a Bible commentary. I'm talking a 6-inch thick book of amazingness. It's the most favorite book I own. Duh. Except the Bible. Isn't it strange how we feel compelled to clarify when it probably isn't necessary? The struggle is real.</div>
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11. <a href="http://www.burpee.com/flowers/cosmos/all-about-cosmos-article10228.html" target="_blank">Cosmos</a>. I learned I'm crazy about these simple flowers. They're in the daisy family, no wonder! </div>
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12. Eating completely sugar, gluten, dairy, and white flour-free for months at a time makes me feel incredible. Abruptly stopping eating said way and binging on sugar, gluten, diary, and white flour makes me feel terrible. Ask me how I know. </div>
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13. A winter with no snow and an abundance of ice is a prison. </div>
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14. Beginning a bullet journal is one of the best things I did for myself. Go <a href="http://bulletjournal.com/" target="_blank">here </a>and watch the video. Trust me. </div>
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15. Unconditional love has been a recurring theme. I learned I have much work to do. </div>
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16. Organizing our books in rainbow color order makes me so happy. </div>
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17. Air-drying my clothes that are allergic to the dryer <a href="https://instagram.com/p/3ctV7gC_6i/?taken-by=amanda_baconbits" target="_blank">makes me feel like Ma Ingalls</a>. </div>
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18. Being in a canoe on a lake helps me breathe again. </div>
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19. Marriage takes a lot of hard work, but with that hard work comes the most rewarding of prizes. Happy 16th anniversary to us!</div>
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20. Don't ever believe the voices that tell you you're a bad friend, bad wife, or bad mother. The voice of God is never condemning. </div>
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21. A pure white quilt makes a bedroom feel like a haven. </div>
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22. I own fifteen dresses. Some days I like to be fancy. </div>
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23. Our children will not always make us happy. But for sure, they will make us depend more on God, make us better, make us feel important and a little crazy. Children bring so many gifts. </div>
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24. Talking into a microphone to nobody with a dear friend is one of my favorite things. Have you listened to <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/" target="_blank">The Masterpiece Mom podcast</a>? We love hearing more than nobody is listening in real life once we hit publish on our conversations. </div>
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25. God speaks to me in unique ways. I've always known this. But my 38th year was the year of hearts. Though it started well beyond this last year, I see hearts everywhere. The amount I see grows as the days pass. They speak love and care and foreknowledge straight from God to me. Just today I saw one in a cluster of raindrops on a rock, one in a stump, one in the middle of a Cheerio, and one in a child's slobber mark on a throw pillow. <i>Nice. </i>Happy Birthday to me.</div>
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26. Certain pens give me the willies and I love writing with pen to paper. Today I wrote with a pen that had a rollerball that was way too fast. I could hardly deal. Pens shouldn't be allowed to fly off into the next word before you've even thought of it. Just wrong. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002ONCF9K/ref=sr_ph_1?m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&ie=UTF8&qid=1436250127&sr=1&keywords=sharpie+fine+pen" target="_blank">Click to behold my current favorite pen. </a>Also, I will make a list of nonsense just for the opportunity to write on paper. A lost art. I will never stop writing things down. Never. See #14. </div>
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27. I think I've exacerbated my back and neck problems by checking email and social media on my phone in the morning while laying in bed. Ouch. What's wrong with me. </div>
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28. I will forever be tempted by a Carmello candy bar. </div>
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29. Taking <a href="https://www.gallupstrengthscenter.com/Purchase/en-US/Product?Path=Clifton%20StrengthsFinder" target="_blank">Gallup's Clifton Strengths Finder</a> test online helped me see my top 5 strengths. They are as follows: Strategic, Positivity, Activator, Belief, and Communication. This is exactly me. I loved reading more about these strengths. It has helped me more fully understand God's purposeful design for me. It makes so much sense. </div>
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30. When a child is pushing all the buttons, if I speak calmly and pray simultaneously, it helps convince me that I am calm. Try it, you'll like it. You'll like yourself afterwards too. </div>
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31. I have wonderful people in my life. So, so wonderful. </div>
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<b>We're almost to 38, so I'm gonna go for it. </b></div>
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32. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D079LdJJbD8" target="_blank">Your Promises by Elevation Worship</a> has been my go-to song. When I was unbelievably nervous and about to die while driving to speak at an event at my home church, God used it to speak His truth to me. When I've been deeply saddened, it's brought great comfort. When I've at all doubted the glimpses of my future God's shown me, this keeps my eyes on Jesus. Fun fact: Jeremy and I get to visit this church a whopping 4,300 miles away on a Sunday very, very soon. </div>
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33. After our sweet dog Annabelle died last summer we got guinea pigs. I had no idea how much I would love them as pets. Now I have my own, her name is Apple. I'm seven all over again. </div>
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34. I really like knowing <i>how</i> people are doing rather than <i>what</i> they're doing. There's a big difference. </div>
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35. I'm the right person for the job because God says so. When I feel weak in my roles, this keeps me motivated. </div>
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36. 2015 is a bad year for the air conditioning to go out in Larry, our van. Hottest summer I've ever remembered. Awesome and horrific all at the same time.</div>
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37. Oh man, I'm petering out. Just two more... Oh! I learned the definition of the greek word <i>hubris </i>means: pride in the sense of putting yourself in the center of the universe. Ouch. That's what we want to avoid. <i>"One cannot be humble and aware of oneself at the same time." </i>I'm reading A Circle of Quite by Madeleine L'Engle right now. There's some real insight there. </div>
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38. We made it. In my 38th year, I learned so much. But mostly I learned more of who my Savior is. More of His character and goodness. I'm forever His. </div>
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Bacon Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01353653147268641850noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195491871000058567.post-2481548926027191602015-03-10T04:28:00.002-04:002015-03-10T04:32:55.442-04:00Why We Say No: Conviction vs. Personal Preference<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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I always know it's time for me to settle down and write something in this space when a topic won't leave my thoughts and it's not one that is specific to moms. I spend a lot of time writing and talking about mom stuff <a href="http://www.themasterpiecemom.com/" target="_blank">right here</a>. But there's a lot of non-mom stuff I like to talk and write about too.<br />
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Today's topic is just that. It's one that won't go away and builds a fire in my belly producing lots of strong feelings, should-have's, and hope-to's.<br />
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Here's the thing. There are certain words spoken in conversations with friends (or even strangers) that cause me to freeze up. I go completely blank. In the moment, no coherent thoughts or words can get in or out. For a girl who isn't speechless all that often, this is big.<br />
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In those moments from the time the words leave the other person's mouth, until the time I'm supposed to respond, I become instantly afraid of appearing <i>holier than thou </i>or stepping on toes, so I freeze and retreat like a turtle popping back into his shell. I usually know just what I'd like to say in response, but I just can't eek it out in a loving and intelligent way (which is the goal), so I say nothing. When I'm back home or have hung up the phone I finally have the words. <i>Of course. </i>But it feels too late.<br />
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I've never called the person up to say, "Uh, yeah... you know how you said ___________? Well, I have some thoughts." I totally could say that. <i>I know. </i>But I don't. There's that whole thing where the other person might feel badly that I've spent some time thinking poorly of them or the words they spoke. It's quite possible that I think too much. <i>Quite</i> possible.<br />
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So this is me processing my not speaking up and an introduction to what sort of conversation it is that drives me to speechlessness. There's an important spiritual truth here that we all need to hear if you'll stick around.<br />
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<i>Are you exhausted by me yet? </i><br />
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<b>I'll do my best to articulate what in the world I'm talking about. </b>Here's an example:<br />
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Person A says, <i>"I'd really like to have more children, but we wouldn't be able to fit in our current vehicle anymore if we did, and I really like what I'm driving right now. So no more children for us!"</i><br />
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<i><span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-small;">*The names and circumstances have been changed to protect the identity of Person A.*</span></i><br />
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Person B (Me) freezes, laughs awkwardly and politely, while sputtering something like, "Yeah..." or "Hmmph..." while two questions begin playing ping-pong in my head as I continue to smile and nod all the while upset at myself for not asking Person A to explain where God's plan fits among their preferences:<br />
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<b>1. Have you thought about asking God what He thinks?</b><br />
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<b>2. Have you considered that God's plan for your life is so much more important than your comfort zone or view of a perfect life?</b><br />
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While I may be a really nice person, I still have some strong opinions, and <b>disregarding God's possible plan for your life just because it might make you uncomfortable is one of my hot buttons.</b><br />
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With that said, what I'd really like to say out loud in response, and hopefully the next time I'll be in my right mind to press the unsuspecting person to consider this: <i>"Has God placed a conviction in your heart about this, or is this a matter of personal preference?"</i><br />
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It seems easy enough. But it isn't for me. Being more bold in this area is something I desire.<br />
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If we are living our lives as Spirit-led children of God, it is impossible to answer a sure forever Yes or No about any circumstance or decision.<br />
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If we are Spirit-led children of God, we need to make sure we are letting the Spirit lead in our decision-making. Our personal preferences are bossy. They like to push us around and remind us of our fears. None of us likes to be bossed around, but if we're letting our preferences take precedence, we're getting bossed and fear wins.<br />
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Jeremy and I are often asked if we're "done" giving birth to or adopting children. I can imagine one would be curious, so I welcome the chance to respond.<br />
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Even though the eight kids I'm already mothering stretch me to the furthest reaches day in and day out, I can't solidly say Yes or No. I honestly don't desire more children at this point. But that's not to say God won't place another child before us and say, "He's yours." It's happened a couple times before in the most surprising fashion, so who's to say it won't happen again? I can't say we're "done" with a clear conscience, and I'm not about to say No to God's will for me or my family if I can help it.<br />
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God is a master at changing our desires to match His will. And I'm good with that. So I'm good with not knowing, because I trust His plan.<br />
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<b>I want God's will more than I want my comfort. </b>Though secretly I might be praying that pleading prayer from the Garden of Gethsemane. You know, the one that goes, <i>"My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; ..." </i><br />
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<i>Shoot. </i>Jesus doesn't stop there. He continues, <i>"... nevertheless </i>(or nevermind me) <i>not as I will, but as you will."</i><br />
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I want to be like Jesus. He basically says, <i>"Nevermind me, I want what you want, God. I'm willing."</i><br />
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If we're following Christ, we need to be open to the path we never imagined. Even a path we might not want or prefer. Christ never wanted suffering, death, or to bear the unbearable weight of our sins, but He allowed Himself to walk that path because it's what the Father asked of Him. He yielded. He took His discomfort and shoved it aside.<br />
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Christians spend a lot of time talking about emulating Christ, but then sometimes aren't willing to walk into the uncomfortable and scary when certain circumstances present themselves. <i>"Surely God wouldn't want me unhappy. So... <u>No</u>."</i><br />
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He certainly would love for you to be happy (contented, really), but He's more concerned about you being holy. Suffering and selflessness has a way of molding us into the person He had in mind for us all along.<br />
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Don't we desperately want to be the person He had in mind when He dreamed us up?<br />
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These words are coming from me as a friend who has struggled down the path of fear and preference and has learned there is nothing there for us. <i>Nothing. </i>The path of hope is one paved by walking in the Spirit.<br />
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That means we follow where He leads not knowing exactly where we're going. It's okay that we don't have all the answers, because we don't yet know all the questions.<br />
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