tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45326036613391895562024-03-04T23:23:43.077-08:00Timmery ClarkTimmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-62144060939507831552015-08-30T16:58:00.001-07:002015-08-30T16:58:13.044-07:00Fall is A'Comin'! (And other Outreach Updates)<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Hello Prayer Team!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s late for me, but I wanted to write to you all before I go to bed (so expect typos and amazing sentence structure. ahem.)</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tonight was an Outreach night, and we have 2 teams that each visit 2 separate clubs, so think roughly 55ish or so women we get to see, plus the door men, bouncers, owners, managers, and bartenders. Would you pray for everyone we encountered this evening, that God would work in their hearts. We always take small gifts to the women, and honestly, its not about the gift but rather we pray that the message the ladies receive from getting the gifts is one of love. Would you pray that the ladies will be reminded that they are loved dearly when they look at their gifts this month? Sometimes the women are too busy to linger with us, but in the morning (or afternoon) when they wake up and see the gifts, I pray that they would be overwhelmed with the realization of how much they are worth, and that not only do we love them, but God loves them. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This Outreach we also had our baked goodies packaged so well, I love it when we get to give cute cookie packages out! The cookie bundles were packaged with a bible verse tag from Matthew 19:26 “With God all things are possible.” Its such a small detail, one that could get overlooked so easily. But I’m thrilled about it!</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At the Abolition Summit, we heard a story from a survivor who reminded us the power of God’s Word. At one point this woman had been given something small with a scripture on it (I forget exactly…its late…). She didn’t dwell on it, but somehow the verse stuck with her. Later she was with a John who had put her in his car, and he was driving out of the city toward the dessert, and the longer they drove the more disturbed she became by him. So what popped into her mind? The bible verse! And she began repeating it out loud, over and over. This irritated the John who asked her about it, and she just said it was a verse she had been given, but internally she was praying to God. Immediately the man was upset and pulled over. He said that he was intending to kill her that night, but now he couldn’t because of the verse she quoted, and that he saw a light surrounding her. So he pushed her out of the car, and you can believe that incident made a huge impact on this woman!</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I doubt that anything that dramatic will happen to any of our women. But here’s what I want to leave you with:</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Even though the verse was small, and many of us may be tempted to overlook it…the truth is that it is God’s Word, which is alive, active, sharper than a two-edged sword, and does not return void. And right now its in the dressing rooms of 4 clubs in Springfield, MO, in the hands of women (and even men) who are swallowed by darkness and desperately needing the Light of God. Will you pray that God’s Word would sink deep into the hearts and minds of these men and women that we saw tonight? </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>One more prayer request, and then I need some sleep! This Fall I’ll be launching a Bible study for the women we meet in the clubs and other areas of exploitation. I’m SO EXCITED! Will you pray for God to draw the hearts of the women? We will start announcing it in September’s Outreaches, and I’m really hoping to start it in October. One thing I’m praying about is that we never want the women to feel like a project. Instead we want to invite them into community with us. That’s a big difference. So while our focus is to introduce the women to God and provide an arena for them to grow spiritually, we want the women to join us as we meet with God and study. We’ll have a few handpicked volunteers participating, and they can model a relationship with God in a lot of neat ways beyond simply doing the study together. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Will you pray for our bible study? Will you pray that key women will come? We’ve identified a few who seem as if they are interested. Specifically, I want you to pray for “Ginger” and “Tina”. Especially “Ginger” as she is influential in the club she works at, and could be someone who brings the other girls in her club with her. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thank you dear prayer peeps! Your prayers are powerful, don’t take them for granted!</div>
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*Post taken from my Friday night email to my Prayer Team. Leave a message if you'd like to be on my prayer team and commit to praying for me and this ministry.</div>
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Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-65711763043282342212015-08-25T11:32:00.000-07:002015-08-25T11:32:03.392-07:00FAQ: Why Didn't I Run?<header class="content-header" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #ee2e24; font-family: TitlingGothicFBMediumComp, Arial Narrow, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 16px; text-transform: uppercase;">*This article is taken from the website </span></span>http://www.thedailybeast.com/witw/articles/2013/09/23/i-was-trafficked-so-why-didn-t-i-run.html<br /><h1 class="title multiline" itemprop="name" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: TitlingGothicFBMediumComp, 'Arial Narrow', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 54px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 56px; margin: 20px 0px 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;">
I Was Trafficked. Why Didn’t I Run?</h1>
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When Sophie Hayes joined her boyfriend in Italy for a vacation, she had no idea that he was about to prostitute her for money. Now, in her new memoir, she tells about her life as a sex slave in Europe’s underground.</div>
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<i style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;">Just a few years ago everything changed. I was <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trafficked-Surviving-Transcending-Abduction-Prostitution/dp/140228103X/ref=as_at?tag=thedailybeast-autotag-20&linkCode=as2&s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1379891281&sr=1-3&keywords=sophie+hayes" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out; box-sizing: border-box; color: #6c899d; cursor: pointer; display: inline; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">trafficked</a>. I was deceived by a man who said that he loved me. I was a product and a vehicle to make money. But I am a survivor.</i></div>
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I had known my trafficker for many years prior to being forced into prostitution. We met at a club and texted or talked on the phone daily for years, until I came to trust him completely. He was my best friend. So when he asked me to visit him in Italy, I believed it was just a holiday.</div>
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The reality is he had groomed me over a period of five years. He was a criminal; he was a trafficker of all kinds: guns, drugs, and girls. Later, I would learn that this is not unusual. In the majority of cases, women know their traffickers.</div>
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When he told me what I was expected to do for him, I froze. The reality of what was happening seemed so surreal that my mind was totally paralyzed. The man that had been so caring had turned into a monster. The violence and rage were like nothing I had ever experienced before, although over a period of time his outbursts became daily life. He took me to a lake where, he told me, my dead body would be thrown should I do anything wrong.</div>
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He took me to a lake where, he told me, my dead body would be thrown should I do anything wrong.</div>
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Victims are often portrayed in movies with chains or locked away, but the truth is many girls are left on the streets alone for long stretches of time. People often ask why girls enslaved in human trafficking don’t run away. Surely the simple thing to do would be to find a way to escape: run when he wasn’t there, or ask for help.</div>
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But while I was free physically, my mental freedom was removed almost immediately. My trafficker explained that I could trust nobody—that he had friends everywhere and they would come to test me. He repeatedly told me if I ever did anything to disobey him he would kill me, as well as my family, and I knew his threats were not empty. I had been held at gunpoint many times. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. My passport was taken. I was in a country where I couldn’t speak the language, with a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.</div>
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To the outside world this is a difficult concept to understand, but with extreme fear comes complete debilitation. Fear of the mind is often the hardest thing to rationalize with. With daily beatings, your mind becomes completely controlled, conditioned to respond in a certain way. You’re unsure whom to trust—and even those whom you’d normally believe you can trust, you come to learn you can’t. During my experience I had countless policemen, judges, doctors, military pay for sex. The police often used their power to also induce fear, so that seeking help feels impossible.</div>
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<figure class="inlineimage" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px auto; max-width: 610px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trafficked-Surviving-Transcending-Abduction-Prostitution/dp/140228103X/ref=as_at?tag=thedailybeast-autotag-20&linkCode=as2&s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1379891281&sr=1-3&keywords=sophie+hayes" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out; box-sizing: border-box; color: #6c899d; cursor: pointer; display: inline; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out;" target="_blank"><img class="img-100" src="http://cdn.thedailybeast.com/content/witw/articles/2013/09/23/i-was-trafficked-so-why-didn-t-i-run/jcr:content/body/inlineimage.img.800.jpg/45997530.cached.jpg" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 10px; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: middle;" title="130922-WITW-trafficked-embed" /></a><figcaption class="photocredit" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7f7f7f; float: none; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 10px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: right; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline; width: 610px;"></figcaption></figure></div>
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Because I speak under a pseudonym, many people wonder who I am. The reality is I look just like everyone else. The difference is that was my life and these are my memories. My hopes, my dreams, and my life were shattered into nothing, and everything I’d ever known was taken away. Worst of all I lost myself. I stopped living and simply existed.</div>
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Sometimes I look in the mirror, I see my reflection and for a second I see her, the girl I used to be. All I wanted to do was reach out to her and tell her that one day it will all be OK again. I can’t take away what happened to me, but I can do everything in my power to help others.</div>
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This year, between 700,000 and 4 million women and children will be forced into sex slavery. In addition to my day job, I have dedicated my life to stop my past being someone else’s future, working with girls around the world who have been affected by trafficking. One of my happiest memories was spending time with a number of survivors and hearing about their lives and, more importantly, their futures. Their strength and determination is remarkable. One girl has been accepted into a top university in Mexico City to study law, one has passed her nursing exam, and another is still deciding. But the difference now is that she can choose. She has complete freedom over what she wants to do, and I’ve learned you can’t put a price tag on that feeling.</div>
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Sophie Hayes is the author of <i style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trafficked-Surviving-Transcending-Abduction-Prostitution/dp/140228103X/ref=as_at?tag=thedailybeast-autotag-20&linkCode=as2&s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1379719974&sr=1-3&keywords=sophie+hayes" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out; box-sizing: border-box; color: #6c899d; cursor: pointer; display: inline; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">Trafficked: My Story of Surviving, Escaping and Transcending Abduction Into Prostitution</a></i>, which was published in the U.S. this September. For more information about the Sophie Hayes Foundation, please visit <a href="http://www.sophiehayesfoundation.org/" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out; box-sizing: border-box; color: #6c899d; cursor: pointer; display: inline; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">www.sophiehayesfoundation.org</a>.</div>
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*This article is quoted from http://www.thedailybeast.com/witw/articles/2013/09/23/i-was-trafficked-so-why-didn-t-i-run.html</div>
</section>Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-2147239470288047122014-03-20T19:05:00.002-07:002014-03-21T07:26:59.564-07:00Reaping Joy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week I slid on a patch of ice while driving and bent my tire rim.</div>
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My car wobbles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Yesterday my cup leaked an inch of
water into my car’s cup holder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Today I read an email from a woman
who wishes I’d stop sending her those church updates while I’m filling in
administratively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s done with
that church.</div>
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my father presses heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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And one <i>more</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> person asks me about my job search.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Ever so subtly, failure settles
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My heart hurts.</div>
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Too much flesh revealed, too jaded
of an expression on her young face, and the evidence of too much sex and drugs
appear in her vacant eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
heart squeezes as I look at the latest photo of my foster daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It squeezes and breaks to think that I
have held this girl, still so young, when she cried on the anniversary of her
miscarriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve tucked her in,
heard her prayers, cheered her on (in totally embarrassing mom style—which
earned me a huffy sigh and eye roll) at sporting events, and wrestled with
English homework.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love this
girl, and it hurts my heart to see her like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I click off her facebook page so I can regroup, try
to numb my heart by distracting myself with something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I push the sense of loss far away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A few nights ago I headed off to
Target to buy a birthday gift for a one year old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s precious, and growing up way too fast when I compare
the 6 month garments to the 12 month ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Being an only child, I don’t have
siblings with children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which of
course gives me full license to appoint myself as this wee boy’s
God-Aunty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(In case you were
wondering, Target does not sell onesies with the slogan “My Self-Appointed
God-Aunty Loves Me Best.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll
probably have to settle like I did for a plain ole “Aunt” onesie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>C’est la vie.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In wandering the aisles of these
darling little clothes I hold up rompers and the tiniest little shoes, and yes,
even a clip-on tie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My uterus is
quick to cheer “Yes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need two
of everything!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so stinkin’
adorable!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain will have none
of this nonsense and promptly sends a response back “Traitor.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If looks could kill, I’m sure my brain
would’ve murdered my uterus many times over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Pierce Brosnan and George Clooney
are NOT available.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simmer it down
down there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cue evil glare.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You don’t even have a house, WHERE
are you planning on putting that tasty, modern furniture set?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Followed quickly with a belittling
look, maybe even a headshake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Enough with the baby
clothes—you’re not getting one of those anytime soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably never.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And so on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These internal dialogues happen a lot
in the aisles of Target.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*sigh*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Although I momentarily grin at this
internal dialogue, I’m aware that much deeper, hidden underneath it, my heart
pinches and twinges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
No baby. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
No husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And not even a prospect of one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one time I would have been A-Okay with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But I’ve had time to heal and
process, and now every so often…in the quiet spaces…sheltered deep where no one
can see or touch or laugh at…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I know I yearn for these
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And ever so quickly, I push the
thought out of my mind, because although the healing is significant, the lies
still raise their voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<b>The sense of inadequacy and shame
wraps me close, deeper than flesh, fighting to remain part of my identity.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
This week my morning readings have
focused primarily on peace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Peace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I breathe it deep.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I let the word flutter through my
mind and try to settle on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it won’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My thick heart-skin is tough with the
pains of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peace is a heart
word, and right now my heart wants protection and lets nothing close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The unintentional wounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish I could embrace that peace, but my thoughts are too
busy, too dense, too <i>something</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> and I am
reminded that the thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I strive to take those thoughts
captive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
persist and the weight of failure presses me down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see it, I know it, and it angers me because I feel so
feeble, my attempts so futile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not good enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My worth…well, what little there may
have been, it’s dwindling fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
shattered heart yearns to throw a fit, to yell, to push back because I know, </span><i>I
know,</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I am angry with myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psychology tells us anger is a
secondary emotion, that it is the product of either pain or fear, sometimes
both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see it in me, the pain and
the fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I know the truth, and the Truth
sets me free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I know.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i><b>I know</b></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But where oh where is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must be doing something wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Straight away my head corrects that
thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puh-leeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Head knowledge schools me, but my heart…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh my heart throbs for the experiential
knowledge of a victorious giver of life, and life to the full!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think of these things, look close at them, feel their
shape in my hand, turn them in my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I think of this week and the snap
shots I’ve experienced above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I stew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These things I’ve pondered
an embarrassingly long time in recent days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In what has felt like self-preservation, I’ve tried to not
look at them, but even without my eyes on it, the feelings edge in, pressing
close, not seen clearly but felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But as I slow and allow myself to
focus, to examine the mess that rages chaotic, I hear another voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Beloved.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Beloved, I love you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You are mine.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The voice is slow, quiet, not at
all hyper or bitter like my own thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the past I have been told that I belong to another, but this…is
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not ugly with entitled
possession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the voice of the
Shepherd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Abba Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Jesus Savior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the voice seeps slow and rich like
honey, golden heavy, into my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I sit quiet in His presence, my focus finally shifted from the sin
ugliness of self.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Beloved, I hear you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me step into those aches and ask
you </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>what is beneath them all?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmmm?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Good question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long have I felt worthless, known
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seen time and time again that
my striving and seeking after perfection to earn love, well, it’s not good
enough, and I ache with the realization I can do nothing to be loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot cover enough the scars cut and
branded on me, <i>in me</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It is that knowledge that throbs
dull, that I try to tune out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Again, the voice…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
B<b>eloved, I have good news for
you. I bind the brokenhearted,
proclaim you captive no more. No
more! You are free and released
from darkness, no longer a prisoner.
I comfort you as you mourn.
I do the work, a new work, in you.
I take your ashes, and give you a crown of beauty. I restore you, because I chose
you. I paid a great price for
you—not merely to own you as an object, but as my Beloved. I took your dead self, breathed my life
into you, and you live. You live
the full life I give to you. I
have taken your shame and given you a double portion. I have taken your heart of stone, and put in you a heart of
flesh. It is for freedom that I have
set you free. It is you I woo
Beloved, you who I am shaping to be my bride.</b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And there it is, in the quietness,
the leading of the One who knows me through and through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The voice that spoke stillness into the storm speaks stillness into my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hurts and worries and shame, they turn transparent, empty, in the pure light of
the Word.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I am loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the longer I hold those God-truths in my heart-hands,
turning them over, memorizing their shape, weight, feel…the more real they become.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Solid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Falling into my being like a rounded rock plunks through cold water,
substance sinking deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And breathe again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Gone is the claustrophobic cage gripping my heart and lungs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
That peace that seemed like
mockery?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is soft now, pliable
and tender and saturating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
heart skin has thinned thinned thinned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Warmed free by the love of my Abba Bridegroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It matters not what cares and worries have weighed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if I had none, (none!) I would
still not be <i>enough</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, and I am freed from
the striving, free to just be, free to look beyond self and see </span><i>Him.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<h3>
<b>It is good that I stop to savor,
process, and record these God-experiences. All too soon I am going to forget the truths that bring me
life. All too soon I will flail in
failed brokenness. But here it is,
a captured moment to soothe and heal, to woo and nurture. I will rest in the vine branch, abiding
in Him and He in me, authoring the gift of peace and love. Cheap words, pretty ideas. But oh the beauty of their full
substance! Lavished upon me time
and time again. </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>I will waste it, careless at times,
and still it will be poured on <o:p></o:p>me. Why? Because I am His and He delights in me.
A mystery. But there you have it, truth nonetheless. </b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
And now I grin easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My thin-skinned heart light in the
knowledge that I am enough for the I AM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<b>When we were freed,</b><br />
<b>released from
captivity,</b><br />
<b>it was like a
dream for us all.</b><br />
<b>Our mouths were filled with
laughter,</b><br />
<b>our tongues
with songs of joy.</b><br />
<b>And all around us people said
with wonder</b><br />
<b>“The Lord has
done great things for you.”</b><br />
<b>And it’s so true, isn’t
it?! </b><br />
<b>The Lord HAS
done great things for us and we are </b><br />
<b>filled,
filled, with joy!</b><br />
<b> Restore
us, O Lord, like winter-fresh streams through the</b><br />
<b> desert
sands.</b><br />
<b> Do
it again, Papa God!</b><br />
<b> Those
of us who sow in tears, our hearts heavy,</b><br />
<b> we
will reap with songs of joy.</b><br />
<b> That
Dear One who weeps? Carrying that
seed to sow? </b><br />
<b> Guess
what?</b><br />
<b> Dear
one, along with a full harvest</b><br />
<b> you return with songs of joy!</b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
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<br />
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Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-34744976558136060672013-09-11T08:20:00.000-07:002013-09-11T08:20:04.990-07:00More Humility and Compassion, Please!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJDpkLSZQrQC2sdOYzQGynVhW04I2-5wl_m-VnuRke19iKbh8o75EDghY4bGAS2SKPH9iNKGf0NowWknS57_TZmFia0shuBITJ3zQS8pOQkjjC66Uorwi0LgrBpR1SnWkLmH5WKTNjrQ/s1600/photo-4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJDpkLSZQrQC2sdOYzQGynVhW04I2-5wl_m-VnuRke19iKbh8o75EDghY4bGAS2SKPH9iNKGf0NowWknS57_TZmFia0shuBITJ3zQS8pOQkjjC66Uorwi0LgrBpR1SnWkLmH5WKTNjrQ/s320/photo-4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Call it my "Type A, Firstborn, Only-Child, Rule Following Rigidity," but there are times when I am a little over zealous in my schedule keeping. This tendency plus a teenaged foster daughter suddenly plunged into my care, well, the phrase "oil and water" comes to mind... <br />
In a lot of ways, my little Chickadee enjoys the structure. It lends stability and normalcy to her life (and mine!), and it's nice for her to be doing the things other high school aged girls are doing. Chores, school, swimming and martial arts, church. All good things. And just as good and needed are the therapy groups, coping skills classes, and doctor's appointments. Chickadee needs all these facets in her life right now to help her heal, recover, and be equipped for a successful healthy future.<br />
I confess that my love of school has maybe tipped the scales of what I thought was "important." I mean, the girl's gotta graduate from high school, right? And then the fall semester started, and we weren't doing summer school easy peasy stuff any more. Hours of history, algebra, biology, and english. Not to mention PE and reading. Hours and hours every day. Was I up for the challenge? Why yes, my school-nazi self was certain we could attain our goals. Never mind the fact that my girl is here to recover, to process and heal, to untrain past ways of living as she's training herself in new ways to live life and establish relationships. <br />
Yesterday was quite a busy day for us, and I knew it was going to be tough to fit in alllll that school. We had our therapist on the schedule, as well as a doctor's appointment. All that to say, when we arrived home at 4:15 yesterday, Chickadee had only completed 2 hours of school that day, and we needed to do 4-5 more hours. So true to form, I get her settled in and push her to go, go, go! Normally she's a little trouper, and will work like crazy to get it done. But yesterday...yesterday was different. Around 5:00 she started melting down a little. My first response was not one of compassion, my thought process was running down the track of: you knew what our schedule was like today, why are you surprised that you still need to do a couple more hours of school? We've been out of the house for hours, that was a good break, right?!" <br />
Once I looked into her overwhelmed face, I decided it was time for a break. I sent her off to swim, and after some laps and splashing, she started to relax. We never finished our hours of school yesterday. I was reminded that although school IS important, so is everything else that we do (insert "so back off, School Nazi!!!). Later that evening, in a different frame of mind, I found out what she and her therapist had talked about yesterday. It was deep. It was painful. I was ashamed of myself. This past week I've been so gung-ho on getting Chickadee caught up in school I've overlooked the emotional traumas and healing. Can I just say my heart was stung and broken last night? <br />
I don't always get it right. (Who does, huh?!) I sometimes lose sight of what's important, and get caught up in agendas of my own making. But I think I'm starting to come around. I need that humility that asks "is this the most important thing right now" when I'm dead set on something. I need that humility that says I don't know everything all the time, so get off my high horse and listen to those who speak into my life as I'm raising this girl. And the compassion...oh God...my heart broke last night. Lord God, help my heart to care like Yours about the heart of my sweet girl(s). I need it. <br />
And so, here we are. The next day. A day already brimming with fresh mercies, and fresh grace. Thank you Jesus!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-43550474668032238332013-09-09T10:25:00.001-07:002013-09-09T10:25:27.742-07:00Who Knew?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This rather unattractive picture of me is a pretty accurate glimpse of me these days. <br />
Bummer. <br />
Why, you ask? Because I have joined the ranks of those women with a teenaged daughter. And I have no spouse to help me with my sanity. (Longish story. I'm a foster mom, the house mom for the place I work. Very good stuff, even if does mean constant sleep deprivation!) Yes, a spouse...<br />
Someone to lean on, someone to help parent, someone to take over when my last nerve is frayed into twenty split ends and my teenager is yelling "Timmery. Timmery! TIMMERY."... I gotta say, that sounds pretty magical right now. *grin* I guess God really knew what He was talking about when He created the family unit to have a mom AND a dad! <br />
These days find me scheduling dentist appointments and eye exams. Shuttling my girl Soccer-Mama-Style to community service projects and martial arts classes. In between all the doing and stuff, there are these amazing sparkles of joy that take my breath away some days.<br />
Like when Chickadee asks me if she can read to me at the end of the night, when I'm irritated that the air conditioner is out and I'm fielding phone calls between two owners about the workman coming. And there's sweet Chickadee, wanting to read to me from the Bible reading plan her High School church group is doing. <br />
In the morning when we're doing our daily reading from Jesus Calling, I'm not sure if anything is soaking in. We get off topic regularly during those discussions. I try to not make it a big deal so it doesn't become a serious time Chickadee starts to dread... This morning out of the blue she redirected the conversation back to our reading all by herself, and had some really good insights. My heart was touched, that's for sure.<br />
It's an adventure that doesn't seem to have much downtime. An adventure I don't always enjoy. But its an adventure with eternal implications.Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-69298485054438566532013-03-15T09:47:00.002-07:002013-03-21T23:17:00.365-07:00In Recent Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello everyone!<br />
I've recently started a crazy, whirlwind adventure, of which some of you know bits and pieces. So please consider this an update of sorts, as well as a prayer request.<br />
About six weeks ago I had a phone interview with Susan Munsey, the executive director of GenerateHope. She was looking for someone to come on staff to work with their brand new phase: minors. And as this is something that grabs my heart, we had excellent discussions and interviews, and I've now been on staff for about three weeks. It feels good to be back in sunny SoCal!<br />
GenerateHope is a non-profit that works with young women who have been sexually trafficked and exploited. In some cases we have girls who have experienced the "slave" aspect TV may depict. But for the most part, trafficking in the US looks a little different, involving young women who look like any other woman you see out and about. She looks like your neighbor, the lady in the produce aisle at the grocery store, your daughter's friend. These young women come in all ages, weights, colors, personalities, and from every type of family. I tell you this, because in the US, sex trafficking usually takes the role of prostitution. What happens when you hear the word "prostitute"? My guess is that there is a stereotype that comes to mind, and maybe even a string of phrases come to mind as well:<br />
"Why doesn't she get out of that and find herself a real job?"<br />
"Put some decent clothes on."<br />
"I'd rather die than sell myself."<br />
"She could leave that 'profession' if she really wanted to."<br />
"She's despicable."<br />
Let me offer you a different perspective to the stereotype that is "out there" running through our society. No little girls says she wants to grow up and work in the sex industry. No young woman starts out thinking that selling her body is her dream. Dig a little deeper into these womens' stories and you'll find that they sell their bodies--not because they want to--but because they've run out of money and resources. Or maybe they were sexually abused as a child, or raped when they were young, and the message imprinted on them was 'this is all you'll ever be good for.' Most of our ladies learned very, very early that they didn't have any rights to their body. Couple that with physical and emotional abuse with a controlling, dominant person in their life, and you start to see how these girls have a major identity//value//worth struggle on their hands. All it then takes is a predator that recognizes that desperation and that uncertainty of self-value in a woman, and that predator will use varied means to commercially exploit these women in the sexual arena.<br />
Sobering stuff, huh? <br />
Before you duck out because this is "just a little too much reality to handle right now," let me give you some encouragement. (Whew, we were in need of some, huh?!) When we expose the sin in the dark, we allow the light of Jesus to shine upon it and He can bring healing truth and restoration. So let's shine some Jesus-light!<br />
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The first GenerateHope house is for young ladies ages 18-35, and has been open for 3ish years now. They have a main house, a transitional apartment, and an education building on site. The newest phase is the one I'm a part of, and that is a house for minor ages 12-17. The average age of entry into prostitution is 12-14 (that's junior high, people. Girls fresh out of elementary school). We're hoping to reach these girls early and get them the help and healing they need. Since I actually live in the house with these girls, I have to become a foster parent--whoa Bessie! I've never envisioned myself foster parenting, but God nudged me right into this with surprising ease, so I trust He knows my skills and limitations and will use me anyway. <br />
Last week I met with our foster organization for the first time, and they've been delightful. I have so much relief knowing that they are Christian, and when they told me they'd be praying for me, I was so blessed. It won't be a walk in the park, and they've told me a few horror stories. I hope those won't be true for us here, but I'd rather be prepared than blind-sided. *Gulp!*<br />
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"My" house is gorgeous, and sits on 15 acres of orange groves (organic oranges for Sunkist--fun, huh?!). I'm hoping the beauty of the house and land helps the girls in their healing journey. They've been so abused and broken, and it will be wonderful to lavish some goodness on them. We don't yet have girls in the house yet (we have room for 4 girls), because we are waiting for the county to sign off on the house. We've been waiting on that signature for about 8+ weeks now, which is a little longer than it normally takes.<br />
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On that note...here are a few specific ways you can pray for me, and for GenerateHope:<br />
1. We need the county's signature on the house! That is all that is standing in the way of accepting girls right now.<br />
2. I have a slew of paperwork and documents to fill out and retrieve. DMV, bank, insurance, medical, identifications/certificates--you name it. I need patience, and in some cases money. I fortunately will be reimbursed for most of this, but right now my bank is in Missouri, and I am in California, which causes some inconvenience right now.<br />
3. Our women are sweeties, but still come with baggage they're working on. Some are stand-offish, others are defensive, some are angry, some shut down. Please pray that I will love them well, and healthily, with good boundaries ,and lavish grace and truth. <br />
4. GenerateHope is faith-based, so I can live out my faith in God publicly in front of our young women, but they are not required to participate. I'm asking if you'll be willing to lift these ladies up to God. Pray for their healing, which ultimately only comes from Jesus. Pray for theyr hearts to soften towards God, and to understand God's love for them is complete. Some girls have backgrounds in church and faith, and sometimes that is a good thing, and sometimes its a negative thing. Pray that God will reveal His Truth to them in a way they will grasp, and that they begin to hunger for Him.<br />
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Thanks for reading my mini-novel today! Leave me a comment below if you have any questions or encouragement!<br />
Much love,<br />
TimmeryTimmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-75045164495014856712013-02-02T16:20:00.003-08:002013-02-02T16:20:22.862-08:00The Pursuit of Being Leaven-less<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've recently been meeting up with a wonderful group of women on Thursdays. We eat together, with conversation packed full with laughter and home made deliciousness. And once we've {partially} worked the talkative giddyness out of our catch-up time, we settle in. Together we're going through the Psalms of Ascent. I know I am learning so much, both about the psalms, but also about these dear ladies. <br />
One lesson from about 10 days ago has been rustling around in my heart. <br />
You see, these Psalms of Ascent are about a pilgrimage, a journey. Three times a year the Jewish men would pack themselves off to Jerusalem to celebrate 3 different Feasts. Part of the journey involves recognizing where you are, and anticipating the goodness ahead, which has had me doing some self-inspection. We learned that the first of the Pilgrim Feasts is the Feast of Unleavened Bread. It began at the tale end of Passover and lasted for a week. <br />
I totally understood that unleavened bread would be a part of Passover--after all, it was an indication of the readiness of the Israelites to move when God said on that fateful night in Egypt so long ago. But there is so much more goodness to unpack! In Hebrew the word leaven means "sour", because it initiates fermentation. As someone who enjoys a tasty loaf, a ciabatta, and definitely a foccaccia, I tend to enjoy that yeast and it's fermenting process! And yet I had to pause when I learned how the ancient rabbi's considered leaven to be imagery of evil and corruption. And what does leaven do? It works it's way through and through a lump of dough, causing the mass to expand and grow. <br />
You can use just a wee little bit of that fermented dough to mix in with a fresh batch of flour, and you'll get a whole new loaf--that little bit of yeast will activate a whole new set of ingredients, causing them to bubble up and expand. <br />
It reminds me of how I can confess my sins to Jesus, and yet sometimes, sometimes I hold onto it just a little. Like how I say I forgive, but maybe I hold onto that little bit of anger and bitterness. I say I don't want to engage in that activity or thought process any more, but its there, and like a glutton I find myself right back at it. That wee little bit of corruption I hold onto spreads all the way through me and blossoms. It doesn't take much sourness to saturate the whole. What would it be like if we were to get rid of our "yeast": the gossip, the bitterness, the lust, the gluttony, the self centeredness, the carnality? <br />
You know how we take communion at Passover, just as Jesus did at the last supper? How we break that unleavened bread and know that it is Christ's body, broken for us? Well, just think about that--Jesus compares himself to that unleavened bread: not sour, not corrupt. Pure. Blameless. Sinless. <br />
I want that. I want the leaven to be stripped out of me, every last bit. It's probably a lifelong pursuit. A good one though. Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-70692962291889731762012-12-21T10:57:00.001-08:002012-12-21T10:57:30.558-08:00"This is Beneath Your Dignity"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
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**This post is an excerpt from Dan Miller's Newsletter**</div>
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As a Russian priest (1829 – 1908), Father John Sergiev first thought he wanted to be <a href="http://www.48days.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Father-John-Kronstadt.jpg" style="color: #1464f4; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;"><img alt="Father John Kronstadt" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-14380" height="300" src="http://www.48days.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Father-John-Kronstadt-267x300.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: right; height: auto; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 20px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle; word-wrap: break-word;" title="Father John Kronstadt" width="267" /></a><br style="word-wrap: break-word;" />a monk in the remote areas of Siberia – but after a vision, he realized God wanted him to be a missionary right where he was – in the hustle and bustle of the big urban city of St. Petersburg. While most priests remained in the safe confines of their cathedrals, Father John would go out into the noisy, dirty, crime-ridden slums and back alleys of the city.</div>
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He would find someone down and out in the gutter, sleeping off the effects of the previous night’s drink and activities. Father John would cup his chin; look him in the eyes and say,<strong style="font-weight: bold; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="font-style: italic; word-wrap: break-word;">“This is beneath your dignity. You were created to house the fullness of God.”</em></strong> Wherever he went, people found new hope and optimism because they discovered, or were reminded, of who they were. Seeing ourselves in the light of who God made us to be is both exciting and contagious.</div>
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So, are you housing <em style="font-style: italic; word-wrap: break-word;">the fullness of God</em> today? If you are full of despair and hopelessness because of the current economic situation, I doubt there is room for much else. If you are angry and resentful because your stocks crashed or you lost your job, I suspect that is what people will first notice about you.</div>
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Can you remember what you were created for? When I hear people complain about how bad their lives are I’m going to start saying, <strong style="font-weight: bold; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="font-style: italic; word-wrap: break-word;">“This is beneath your dignity. You were created to house the fullness of God.”</em></strong></div>
Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-43956040657822020172012-12-04T08:49:00.003-08:002012-12-05T08:22:53.917-08:00Christmas Revolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This week I've been listening to a friend's sermon, letting it speak to my heart and soak into me. He started a Christmas preaching series called Christmas Revolution. This was a great encouragement to worship Jesus with my life this month rather than passively just exist through the month and events. It would be easy to let life happen without examining it, to let my days run by without stopping to think, to praise, to worship, to see.<br />
When Mary and Joseph were making that 80-100 mile trek to their hometown of Bethlehem, it surely tugged at their heart. The reason they were headed back was because that land was no longer theirs. Land was life in their day, and you only got rid of your land if you couldn't pay for it any longer, or it was seized. Caesar Augustus called for that census to know how to better tax his subjects--although something like 97% of them were impoverished. Taxes in that day were around 80ish percent of earnings. The steep rate of taxation, the long walk "home" because it was no longer their home, and the harsh reality that tax rates were likely to be hiked again were all cause for heavy hearts.<br />
Joseph and Mary were likely traveling with a group to ensure safety. Yes, they were living in the time of the Pax Romana, that time of peace instituted by the Roman government. When Caesar Augustus acquired new subjects, he ensured they would not revolt and start war by preempting them. The best and the brightest, the strong and smart--men, women, elderly, and young--any that posed a potential threat were torturously executed on the Roman creation, the cross. So many were executed that at times crosses were used twice a day. A time of peace? Yes, in the sense that no one was warring. But this was not life-nurturing, hope-generating peace. It was sanctioned terrorism and oppression. <br />
As they made the trek through these bleak circumstances, it's possible the travelers turned their talk to recounting stories of old. As they crossed the Jordan they might have remembered how Joshua crossed with the Israelites on dry ground--in the middle of flood season! But it had been 400 years since God had publicly been active in the Jewish nation. God seemed silent. Mythical. More story than reality. They were the chosen people, but it surely seemed as though they were the forgotten chosen. They were a people in need of hope, of light, they were in need of a savior.<br />
Supposedly they already had a savior though. The titles of the caesars were so grandiose and a dirty reflection of God's promise. The Roman nation institutionalized the Imperial Cult--the worship of the caesars. Caesar Augustus was named god while he was living, and as his father before him was deified, he was christened the son of god. With his strong government armies and rule, he was known as the prince of peace, savior and lord. People worshipped him. Daily people greeted each other with the proclamation "Caesar is Lord." People would meet together for times of caesar worship in groups known as ekklesias--the Greek word for church. The twelve days prior to Caesar's birthday were known as advent--the celebration of his coming. It was a time steeped in hardship with a hopeless worship of a man that was a far cry from the true God. <br />
In this culture revolving around this powerful, deified Caesar, the arrival of a Savior, the Prince of Peace, the Son of God would have been ground breaking. It would have been a call for revolution. Into this darkness, Jesus came, upsetting the idolatrous worship of the time and bringing hope and life. Instead of taking and demanding, He gave and loved. <br />
"Behold, unto you a Savior is born. Immanuel, Prince of Peace."<br />
I could go with the flow this season, or I can raise my eyes and recognize the radical Savior that was born to free me from the darkness of this world.<br />
Long live the King! Forever will he reign!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-79322889849607864792012-11-07T08:40:00.001-08:002012-11-07T08:40:11.505-08:00Shimmering Bits of Possibility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(This artwork is by artist Kelly Rae Roberts)</span></div>
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"You are gifted and capable beyond your wildest imagination. You have not yet begun to explore all the ways you can make your life count for eternity. Strength and dignity are your clothing. It's time for you to drop your bucket deep down into the well of possibilities that you've been ignoring all these years. Drop it all the way down and see what you pull up."<br />
~<i>Sisterchicks on the Loose!</i> by Robin Jones GunnTimmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-14906315856266015732012-11-05T08:34:00.003-08:002012-11-05T08:34:54.029-08:00Lovely, Book Excerpt Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This excerpt continues to stay in my mind, nudging me to interact with God. I find this description such a beauty image of a relationship--the intimacy evoked left me desiring a similar relationship with God. I could feel myself ache to have my own best friend experience with "Lovely." And over the past few weeks I've taken this desire to God, and He has grown it, and continues to nurture it inside me. My hope is that you too will resonate with this passage, and that it will spur you toward deepening your own relationship with "Lovely."<br />
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“Lovely is a very private name for
God….”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What a perfect name for God.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Names are important to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spend weeks with a new story
searching to find the right names for characters, to hear their voice, to find
who they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a point in
writing a story where I finally have the right name, and the book in my mind
begins to sound different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
sounds richer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It begins to read
in the voice of the character, and it sounds alive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I was a child when I met God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God the Father was an easy concept for
me to grasp, and Jesus the Son, being God who died to save my life, I often
thought of as the wonderful older brother I wanted to have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got to God, the Holy Spirit, and
realized the Bible said He lived with me, I instinctively thought of Him as
being a best friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I wanted to get to know Him, and
the only way I knew to do so was to have a conversation with Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hard to say ‘Holy Spirit’ and
not feel like it was a formal conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So sometimes I’d call Him Ancient, Wise, Wonderful, Eternal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was trying to get to know Him by
reminding myself who He was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’d say, ‘You’re showing off
tonight,’ when the sunset and clouds were an incredible display of color, or
I’d say, ‘It’s hot, I miss the breeze you sent yesterday,’ or I’d tell Him about
my day and what I was working on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was just talking, trying to get to know this person I was living
with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And like a book, the name
was right, but it wasn’t a conversational name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus had names like Alpha, Omega, Good Shepherd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I asked the Holy Spirit if He had
another name I could use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said,
‘Call me Lovely.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I thought it was kind of girl’s
name and corny and stupid of me to have asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think He knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In a week or so, He couldn’t shut me up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a name for the person I was sharing my life with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Lovely, you painted a great
sunset.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Lovely, Black just went
chasing a rabbit.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Lovely, I’ve
lost my keys.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was still the
same simple comments, but they suddenly turned into God and I having a
conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in a few more
weeks, it was ‘Lovely, I’m lost on how to help in this situation,’ and ‘Lovely,
why did I say that?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to
trust Him with the emotions behind my actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now it’s ‘Lovely, where should this story go next?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And ‘Lovely what am I going to do about
this guy that just showed up in my life?’”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“He listens to all that stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smiles at me a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God said call me Lovely, and I fell
more in love with Him that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had this huge open hole inside that so desperately wanted love, and God filled
it up with himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His name was
reminding me He loved me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
conversation just adds another certainty to that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Lovely is His character.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Lovely is His company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Lovely is how He treats me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lovely is God.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Full Disclosure, Dee Henderson, Pages 366-367.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-80255907499255702822012-11-05T08:28:00.001-08:002012-11-05T08:28:05.691-08:00Book Excerpt Part IRecently I read a book by an author I greatly enjoy--a mystery romance novel. I wasn't looking for anything other than a good read. And I wasn't disappointed! But after I had finished the book, a few sections lingered with me and rolled around in my heart and mind for a bit. Those sections delved into the main character's relationship with God. As I read, I found myself drawn by those descriptions. I took those ideas and longings and discussed them with God. Just as these sections prompted conversations with God for me, I hope you too will find yourself dialoguing with God.<br />
<br />
Enjoy the read!<br />
<br />
* * * * * * *<br />
<br />
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ann glanced up from her pad of
paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve got that look that says I’m a puzzle to you again.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You are, but I like figuring out
puzzles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just thinking.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“About?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re quiet, Ann.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more time I spend with you the more
I realize that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I thought that was pretty
obvious.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m curious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you as quiet inside your mind
too?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you’re with friends you
trust, do you have a lot you want to say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or is your mind as still and quiet as you often are?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What a wonderful question.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She tilted her head, sat up, and set
aside the pad of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m
pretty quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when I’m not
tired, the real me is pretty quiet inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With people I’m not shy, not timid, but I am quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hear what’s being said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it’s someone I trust, I’ll return confidences in
kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When someone risks with me,
I’ll risk back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I rarely
initiate, even when it’s comfortable, safe surroundings and a group of
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In tennis terms, I prefer
to return rather than serve.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Why is that?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t like being in the
spotlight, even when it’s with friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am most comfortable one-on-one, when the topics are going where
someone else wants to direct them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She hesitated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, let me modify that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am comfortable talking with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I initiate conversations with Him all
the time, on easy topics, hard topics, what’s going on, and with the emotions I
want to express in full color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you really want to know, the Ann inside speaks freely and often only to God.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re safe with God.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s where I thrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not that I hide with my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are very few subjects, if any, I
haven’t shared with at least one friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I trust friends with my secrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I talk about what matters to me all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there are large chunks of who I am, of what I think
about and talk about, that reside only between myself and God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think that will ever change.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How have you learned to trust God
like that, Ann?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She shrugged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m God’s daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s possessive of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like that fact, that certainty, that
God chose me and considers me His.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So I give God me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
have something to say, when I want to talk, He’s listening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I need a friend, He’s there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I need something, God’s got it
covered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God and I are good
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve got a
relationship.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Full Disclosure, by Dee Henderson, Pages 230-231.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-907390675014278332012-10-30T07:50:00.001-07:002012-10-30T07:50:17.535-07:00Enthralled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5k7uLJ1jS2JtlMWU_ZmhuMpCP-cG0A_qOqKYN98a_7YgNtgKlGJoysg6goGbuKLpQxxvyu9kTNb27bK_Wc07bXo4Adbc0CfTQ-kqIjy0oA4kgc431BgHDHarzbA_BXY5Fmn7RLT1ouI/s1600/117797346472942934_0qH7ASqK_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5k7uLJ1jS2JtlMWU_ZmhuMpCP-cG0A_qOqKYN98a_7YgNtgKlGJoysg6goGbuKLpQxxvyu9kTNb27bK_Wc07bXo4Adbc0CfTQ-kqIjy0oA4kgc431BgHDHarzbA_BXY5Fmn7RLT1ouI/s400/117797346472942934_0qH7ASqK_c.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
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<br />Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-8923458745296718172012-09-20T07:04:00.000-07:002012-09-20T07:04:29.809-07:00Heart Warming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOcR7Il-ca2irt2z5oCTu7GFFeMkxE2ZJdPWSpzah-8FHVv1qcWZxD3am5tdPQjxmZfngafhyTkLV2cJvWjZqwJT-3gVoriOXGA7nesfa6q13LsgrVTDc4fbeDuekf7Yfuwv6dwPpJGA/s1600/Birthday+Card+Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOcR7Il-ca2irt2z5oCTu7GFFeMkxE2ZJdPWSpzah-8FHVv1qcWZxD3am5tdPQjxmZfngafhyTkLV2cJvWjZqwJT-3gVoriOXGA7nesfa6q13LsgrVTDc4fbeDuekf7Yfuwv6dwPpJGA/s400/Birthday+Card+Front.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKYZhdjJMSgI5aDlMNjohamLKzms0Hz_Ia7JEjAGjtICq93Flnx6bEvoMmAZ6w_Cux72baKhXaD9VgtKpeUxtSh_sU_gssLQclh2CrbPFNdVQs0qpUjkQ5hPKP6_ipY1cmqrlfV8Zhro/s1600/Birthday+Card+Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKYZhdjJMSgI5aDlMNjohamLKzms0Hz_Ia7JEjAGjtICq93Flnx6bEvoMmAZ6w_Cux72baKhXaD9VgtKpeUxtSh_sU_gssLQclh2CrbPFNdVQs0qpUjkQ5hPKP6_ipY1cmqrlfV8Zhro/s320/Birthday+Card+Back.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
My birthday was one week ago (hooray--I love my birthday!!!!) and I was so blessed to hear from so many friends. My community of dear relationships is woven deep in my heart and I love hearing from them. <br />
When I woke last Thursday, I headed for my pile of cards. I like to save all my cards until the day of my birthday so I have that anticipation build. Plus its always nice to have something to open on your actual birthday. *Grin* <br />
This card is from my mum and step-father. It reads:<br />
"I see a young lady<br />
out in the world,<br />
Following her dreams,<br />
doing good,<br />
And making a difference.<br />
Then I think,<br />
Hey, that's my kid.<br />
That's my pride and joy.<br />
Happy Birthday<br />
to a daughter<br />
who's so inspiring<br />
And Loved.<br />
<br />
Considering how I've struggled to find a paying job (but if I want to counsel for free, people want me madly!), and battling the highs and lows, this card reached into my heart and warmed me. It encourages me to keep up the good fight, to continue seeking to make a difference. It nudges me forward to pursue the creative, sometimes harebrained!, ideas that I have, to write that proposal, to woo that employer, to offer hope and joy.<br />
Thanks Mum, for believing in me and offering me such meaningful encouragement and validation!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-44969720815573744732012-07-30T12:26:00.001-07:002012-07-30T12:26:08.100-07:00I Will Live Out My Calling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-K-f6kXnv6DdjlMTeptPaAI0Ia7d5-yEunaKczYjPtB5YRxN5FbI7ADUn914Lb6m0XaNnRffxSMpyNVSPDCSsEcNV8s1RlvpQxJ_VEdNjLc2MXxvHbvYy9qKRlJAR-q-eWiGaP3dm5E/s1600/188306828140112284_4548CnOv_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-K-f6kXnv6DdjlMTeptPaAI0Ia7d5-yEunaKczYjPtB5YRxN5FbI7ADUn914Lb6m0XaNnRffxSMpyNVSPDCSsEcNV8s1RlvpQxJ_VEdNjLc2MXxvHbvYy9qKRlJAR-q-eWiGaP3dm5E/s1600/188306828140112284_4548CnOv_b.jpg" /></a></div>
A friend had posted this quote on Pinterest recently, which is where I read it, felt its humble words prick my heart, and my spirit agreed with this simple sentence.<br />
<br />
I've been bolstering my courage and been bringing to mind the things God has equipped me with, and the desires He has placed in my heart.<br />
<br />
Right out of the gate, I know God has equipped me to give His hope and truth to those who are in such desperate need of it. Now, He's still teaching me about this, softening my heart at times, and I admit I have much to learn. But this is a burden that does not leave me, and as God promises, it is not heavy but light. I feel a joy flood through me when I think about being able to play a part in a young woman's journey from hopelessness to understanding her identity in Christ. Knowing in your head is far different from knowing in your heart and living it out. <br />
Right now I look at job descriptions and I feel trepidation start to paralyze me. Can I really do what that location wants? Do I have the skills to make an impact in someone's life, to give them the tools they will need to transform? I'm probably not qualified enough... And yet, I am reminding myself that God did not give me a spirit of fear or timidity, but one of boldness, love, and self-discipline (see 2 Timothy 1:7). I might need some self-discipline to get myself together in doing my part, but God has already equipped me with His spirit, His power, and His love. I just need to be faithful and see what He will do with me. <br />
<br />
I feel like this is a subject that needs to be unpacked even further as I have barely gotten into it, so expect this theme to come up again!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-63779517200009247532012-07-17T09:36:00.000-07:002012-07-17T09:36:36.334-07:00ConfessionIt has been 2 weeks since I rolled into the state of Missouri and unlocked the front door of my new home. Two weeks of experiencing hot temperatures, humidity that feels like I'm breathing underwater, and--even more horrifically--mosquitoes. Lest I paint it to be a completely negative picture, it's not all bad, not at all. There is greenery all around, and the sight of acres of mature trees is beautiful. Lightening bugs bring a little bit of whimsical delight to my evenings, as do my neighbors cats that are allowed outside for a few hours at dusk. I've enjoyed some mini-adventures with my mother. Experiencing our relationship face to face has warmed my soul.<br />
<br />
And yet...<br />
<br />
Time for a confession: I'm scared. Scared that I won't find meaningful work. Scared that I only traded locations and that my life will continue to seemingly go nowhere. <br />
<br />
That fear has limited my stepping out, ensuring that my life won't move forward! Kind of silly I suppose. But here I am, acknowledging it. Sometimes recognizing what it is I'm doing helps me take ownership of the situation and nudges me into change. <br />
<br />
Confession: I have been apathetic.<br />
Confession: I have the tools to change.<br />
<br />
In my next post I'll be reiterating what it is that God has called me to, as a reminder to myself, but also to prompt me forward. Pursuing who God had has designed me to be and to step into it.<br />
<br />
See you soon!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-1490659773827349792012-07-06T19:46:00.002-07:002012-07-06T19:46:59.762-07:00ChangeLast week at this time I was saying goodbye to a family I cherish, about to spend time with another couple that I count as dear friends. My car was packed. To the brim. Overflowing with my belongings. And even as full as I could pack my car, I still had to leave things behind.<br />
<br />
Maybe I shouldn't say things. A few pieces of furniture are replaceable, and might even be fun (once the income starts flowing again!). But tonight I'm sitting in my new home, 1800-ish miles away, and I'm mourning the people I left behind last week. <br />
<br />
While I'm usually a loner, I deeply value the true friends I have made. I know God is with me in this transition (otherwise I'd be a wreck!). It aches a little bit to think of the people I left behind, and how much I'd give to have a hug and a long conversation with one of them. Shoot, ALL of them!!! <br />
<br />
But for tonight, I'm turning this over to God, knowing that He's with me always. Honestly I'm wishing He'd send a representative with a heartbeat and skin! Times of change have been hard for me historically. Yet underneath my sad heart I know a peace deep within that is keeping me calm. God has a plan for me, even though I don't know exactly what that looks like. He has given me a passion, allowed an incredible education, introduced me to life-changing people that showed me how to follow Him, and turned my ashes into beauty. Now it is time to stretch one wobbly foot out and take a step to what He is calling me to do. Love others, offer hope, and in everything and in every way point back to Him.Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-65251958431607455112011-01-16T12:33:00.000-08:002011-01-16T12:33:37.422-08:00Fresh Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k_bwbArPAVMd1FxzHzTuBQNtWNJEvYhMsz3qbTO_0y4bwHWt5u8omejDDwQwDpwVdNhnNutbBLuBcWDoUr0Eo9IqkQreogezocmRUSKIOyQUDMxBdbFK7h5etkQnqB4MAaeLizoCuUg/s1600/paperwhites+pic+to+use+ZIVA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k_bwbArPAVMd1FxzHzTuBQNtWNJEvYhMsz3qbTO_0y4bwHWt5u8omejDDwQwDpwVdNhnNutbBLuBcWDoUr0Eo9IqkQreogezocmRUSKIOyQUDMxBdbFK7h5etkQnqB4MAaeLizoCuUg/s320/paperwhites+pic+to+use+ZIVA.jpg" width="244" /></a></div> Sometimes an event happens and it opens your eyes to possibility and sparks your thought-life into bloom. Yesterday morning I walked into my living room and found that my after-Christmas splurge was transformed. <br />
I'm from Missouri and I miss the bulb flowers that come out at the first hints of spring. They have such glorious colors, and some have breathtaking fragrance. A few days after Christmas I found paperwhite bulbs on sale (50% off!), and brought them home. At first I felt guilty: I could've saved those few dollars for something else, something practical. But I didn't. <br />
I planted them and I think they started growing from day one. I would sing to them, and talk to them, and they would grow an inch overnight (I checked with my ruler to make sure!). Earlier this week their little buds got fatter and fatter, and whiter and bumpier. And then...<br />
Voila! Fragrant paperwhite blossoms in my living room; sweet little clusters of joy heralding the arrival of spring in our household!<br />
<br />
I was enchanted with the whole process, and it caught my imagination with its symbolism. I watched those little buds from the moment they popped their small green heads from the dirt. I watched as they plumped up and grew taller. I watched as I could start to see the clusters mature inside their green cocoon, becoming knobby and brimming with life. Inside that tight little bud the flowers were growing. Their world was dark, but they knew they were meant to live beyond the bud, to burst with life from their prison. The resistance of the green bud encouraged them to become strong and perseverant, intent on escaping the dark. They knew what they were intended to be, and they pursued it. They overcame.<br />
<br />
Does that remind you of anything?<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>whenever you face trials of many kinds,</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> James 1:2-5</i></span>Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-84879817604758276772011-01-12T13:50:00.000-08:002011-01-12T13:50:13.101-08:00Proactive or Reactive?No this isn't one of those comments about face wash! <br />
One of the things I've been mulling over is the importance of being proactive in my thought life. I know myself pretty well, having 30ish years of experience with myself. I can you that I have, on PLENTY of occasions, been reactive with my thoughts. What does that mean? Here's an example:<br />
I wake up, feeling tired and kind of "gray". Nothing bad, but nothing good either. A thought comes to mind, and there's just a hint of something in the content that makes me feel insecure. I start to doubt myself, start to mosey into the land of "I'm not really valuable." And bam. My day goes south, I'm sad, and I'm probably going to cry. A lot.<br />
I do this with my identity, my worth, my skill set, my relationships, my health, and on and on it goes. <br />
This is not the way I want to live, nor do I think God created me to be defeated. <br />
Now, I would never really mentally tell myself "I sure am defeated in this area", and yet my life is lived out that way. Bingo! The way we live often tells a true story of our beliefs.<br />
Bouncing back from defeat is hard. And so the brilliant thought hits me: why don't I head it off before I get to that point? <br />
Eh?<br />
Yes!<br />
Rather than being reactive in taking my thoughts captive and reminding myself of God's truths, I can take the initiative to do those things BEFORE I get defeated.<br />
Rough patches will come, I am sure of it. Yet it does not need to dominate my thinking. I am a child of God. I have been chosen at a high price and redeemed. God has designed me with skills and empowered me with His Spirit. I am made to worship Him with my ENTIRE LIFE. <br />
I can choose to live like it ahead of time. I don't want to wait until I NEED to remember this to bring it to the top of my mind. I want to wake up and live each moment knowing that I'm God's and I'm living for Him, and what He says--even about me--is true! <br />
What about you?Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-45388931709019235332011-01-10T08:49:00.000-08:002011-01-10T08:49:09.462-08:00What are you doing this year?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLuY9xtGmLzoC7t-Z2PixqxOPFSNqcjxQv3uMHqUWwoCJF_PXG8fKOPaXwzkkuUBoCKria2uzLLS3HUn0hZZTEIO5XFN95uISXaOr8Y9_cSkVipGEz5joWss73DffP9oIrSaX6LgeTec/s1600/7231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLuY9xtGmLzoC7t-Z2PixqxOPFSNqcjxQv3uMHqUWwoCJF_PXG8fKOPaXwzkkuUBoCKria2uzLLS3HUn0hZZTEIO5XFN95uISXaOr8Y9_cSkVipGEz5joWss73DffP9oIrSaX6LgeTec/s320/7231.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Yes, its a new year and we're a week into it already! Last week the big hype I saw most places was regarding resolutions and goals. Now that about 10 days have passed, can you still remember the goals you might have made? Or has life just sort of...happened...and the goals you made have faded from mind? Were the items you listed of meaning and value to you, or were they just something that sounded good but you have no personal passion about truly following through with them? <br />
Here's a little somethin' somethin' I've been thinking about: top of mind positioning. <br />
What?<br />
Yes.<br />
This is a term I've heard with gaining exposure by making at least 3 points of contact. But as I think it over, I think the concept applies to goals, dreams, and resolutions. If you sincerely want to see that goal come to fruition you must be intentional about nurturing it. It must be given thought daily so that it does not get lost in daily life and go dormant. <br />
So if you're goals are valuable to you, what are you doing to ensure they are acted upon each and every day? Don't settle. Don't grow apathetic. Don't let life pass you by--you are in the driver's seat! Where will you take this year?Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-29065314193678106022010-12-29T09:26:00.000-08:002010-12-29T09:26:07.905-08:00Been A While!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjx9kHVv6U3fdGb0yImZSiQrMzOq4Cwq4Ll2X5LwTzPiH4_-mDoOGspZMTgn5awq31MUnjrDYmBKW0ih4h19-5N2NFf1qxRZeoNDAhyLTCp5wvjG5Z1cyHVt8LCsuNMvdfKsRLqGRjhI/s1600/stop+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjx9kHVv6U3fdGb0yImZSiQrMzOq4Cwq4Ll2X5LwTzPiH4_-mDoOGspZMTgn5awq31MUnjrDYmBKW0ih4h19-5N2NFf1qxRZeoNDAhyLTCp5wvjG5Z1cyHVt8LCsuNMvdfKsRLqGRjhI/s320/stop+picture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I know I've been absent for a goodly chunk of time recently, but very soon I'll have more content up and running. Plan on stopping here in the days ahead!<br />
Happy New Year!<br />
-TimmeryTimmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-30487062988294172352010-07-31T21:39:00.000-07:002010-07-31T21:39:40.550-07:00Psalm 40<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_n1OOBnMSYyhodFFsdA7QGG6QLyYd8G6o2kETDmyNb7Ci91jsXx81R_52ycH5-dZ_w_lkUw7gpgFmpkIK2S-CQQsCK1umRcYQvoFYQ-eYlgKzp1OnxIWtFG30jNw694qOqJoN37iREw/s1600/6294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_n1OOBnMSYyhodFFsdA7QGG6QLyYd8G6o2kETDmyNb7Ci91jsXx81R_52ycH5-dZ_w_lkUw7gpgFmpkIK2S-CQQsCK1umRcYQvoFYQ-eYlgKzp1OnxIWtFG30jNw694qOqJoN37iREw/s320/6294.jpg" /></a></div><h2 id="passage_heading" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Psalm 40 (The Message)</h2><div class="result-text-style-normal" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br />
<h4><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">A David Psalm</span></h4> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13435" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">1-3</sup> I waited and waited and waited for <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>. At last he looked; finally he listened.<br />
He lifted me out of the ditch,<br />
pulled me from deep mud.<br />
He stood me up on a solid rock<br />
to make sure I wouldn't slip.<br />
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,<br />
a praise-song to our God.<br />
More and more people are seeing this:<br />
they enter the mystery,<br />
abandoning themselves to <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13436" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">4-5</sup> Blessed are you who give yourselves over to <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>,<br />
turn your backs on the world's "sure thing,"<br />
ignore what the world worships;<br />
The world's a huge stockpile<br />
of <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>-wonders and God-thoughts.<br />
Nothing and no one<br />
comes close to you!<br />
I start talking about you, telling what I know,<br />
and quickly run out of words.<br />
Neither numbers nor words<br />
account for you.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13437" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">6</sup> Doing something for you, bringing something to you—<br />
that's not what you're after.<br />
Being religious, acting pious—<br />
that's not what you're asking for.<br />
You've opened my ears<br />
so I can listen.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13438" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">7-8</sup> So I answered, "I'm coming.<br />
I read in your letter what you wrote about me,<br />
And I'm coming to the party<br />
you're throwing for me."<br />
That's when God's Word entered my life,<br />
became part of my very being.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13439" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">9-10</sup> I've preached you to the whole congregation,<br />
I've kept back nothing, <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>—you know that.<br />
I didn't keep the news of your ways<br />
a secret, didn't keep it to myself.<br />
I told it all, how dependable you are, how thorough.<br />
I didn't hold back pieces of love and truth<br />
For myself alone. I told it all,<br />
let the congregation know the whole story.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13440" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">11-12</sup> Now <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>, don't hold out on me,<br />
don't hold back your passion.<br />
Your love and truth<br />
are all that keeps me together.<br />
When troubles ganged up on me,<br />
a mob of sins past counting,<br />
I was so swamped by guilt<br />
I couldn't see my way clear.<br />
More guilt in my heart than hair on my head,<br />
so heavy the guilt that my heart gave out.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13441" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">13-15</sup> Soften up, <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>, and intervene;<br />
hurry and get me some help,<br />
So those who are trying to kidnap my soul<br />
will be embarrassed and lose face,<br />
So anyone who gets a kick out of making me miserable<br />
will be heckled and disgraced,<br />
So those who pray for my ruin<br />
will be booed and jeered without mercy.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-13442" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top;">16-17</sup> But all who are hunting for you—<br />
oh, let them sing and be happy.<br />
Let those who know what you're all about<br />
tell the world you're great and not quitting.<br />
And me? I'm a mess. I'm nothing and have nothing:<br />
make something of me.<br />
You can do it; you've got what it takes—<br />
but God, don't put it off.</div>Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-77961788555732376472010-05-30T10:15:00.000-07:002010-05-30T10:15:34.202-07:00Master of Pastoral Care and Counseling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFdwLvjJLd-FJq36Xf8vZ4lI6959KHwl2Mpr6Fi3FTGyBPsNj3lBPdlLleUejHSBKHReMoHjP3TWGWjpTZPkidOGLH1wlmlcsUcnDNoptEpCxhBI8sAqLL-8YPZtpzL6R0hY2Hk5AyPg/s1600/31870_1423232413169_1003476883_1285549_3890333_n_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFdwLvjJLd-FJq36Xf8vZ4lI6959KHwl2Mpr6Fi3FTGyBPsNj3lBPdlLleUejHSBKHReMoHjP3TWGWjpTZPkidOGLH1wlmlcsUcnDNoptEpCxhBI8sAqLL-8YPZtpzL6R0hY2Hk5AyPg/s320/31870_1423232413169_1003476883_1285549_3890333_n_2.jpg" /></a></div>Baccalaureate and Hooding Ceremony on Thursday with Jennifer and Ting. We made it!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-70292583188287106282010-03-26T16:31:00.000-07:002010-03-26T16:31:00.109-07:00Recent Musings<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi3cRmCh4zAhNQtyjKIEjHd1lQT9vBdz_x_knYQo6-ywXweYow0NYb8u6DMuxUBvgsX5m0s62ZcXt9M9KFrudyFzwRdsqNIcuIRxRQDLFi6VSUmw2nWXeLURgIuZevb_OSS0PVrSs0CE/s1600/Slide1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi3cRmCh4zAhNQtyjKIEjHd1lQT9vBdz_x_knYQo6-ywXweYow0NYb8u6DMuxUBvgsX5m0s62ZcXt9M9KFrudyFzwRdsqNIcuIRxRQDLFi6VSUmw2nWXeLURgIuZevb_OSS0PVrSs0CE/s320/Slide1.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
</div>*Taken from an email conversation I had earlier this week...sorry for the recycle!</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was talking with a professor this week, and some of my Talbot community peeps in recent weeks. It seems as though I hear God asking me to open my eyes to the things in my life. The messages, the classes, the things I learn in and out of the classroom. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p style="margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I had one professor share that roughly 1 % of the world’s population gets a college education. Following that logic, I’m gonna guess that even fewer than that get the opportunity to attend a higher level of learning than that. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p style="margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Which means I’m pretty blessed. More than I even know. More than I’ve really realized. Which starts to sound an awful lot like me being given talents, but not just yet utilizing them to the best of my ability. In some ways, that’s okay—I’m still learning and growing. But that poses the question: What will I do from today forward? How can I be faithful with all this information, knowledge, wisdom and so much more that I get blessed with? Will I handle it appropriately? Will I blow off stuff in order to “have fun” because I’m young and single? Or will I be dedicated to absorbing these blessings responsibly and faithfully so I can turn around someday and use them to impact someone’s life as God gives me opportunity? The more I think of handling my blessings responsibly the more in awe I am of God and what He gives. Am I a good steward of what I’m learning? In some way, I hear God asking me if I will handle correctly what he gives me now. Will I be a good steward with what I’m given at this place in my life? Will I make the changes that He asks of me, even though it means disrupting patterns and relationships and boundaries? Make no mistake, action is required. Will I have the courage to respond appropriately? How can he trust me with more if I cannot faithfully act on what he gives me now? So hard. So good. All that to say that sometimes being faithful hurts. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p style="margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I change. I grow. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’m not who I used to be. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And there are times I’m acutely aware of that even from one day to the following. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hopefully we’re all on that transformation ride. Hopefully we are all being faithful to what God teaches us and shows us, even when it stings a little, or even when it hurts a whole heck of a lot. There is a part of me that thinks, “Yeah God, I want to do things your way. I want to serve you. Even when it hurts. Help me be faithful to use what you put in my hands and life.” That is hard for me because I’m aware that there is cost involved. In saying “yes” to God, I say “no” to something else. And maybe it wasn’t even a bad something else (and sometimes it was a horrendous something else) but there it is: Will I serve God today or will I not? </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p style="margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called.” 1 Tim 6:12</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p style="margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal_984B3899_0127_1000_936A_43542A9E5A09_6092" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: auto; padding-bottom: 0pt; padding-left: 0pt; padding-right: 0pt; padding-top: 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“ I sought the LORD and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” Psalm 34:4-5</span></span></span></div>Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4532603661339189556.post-22791054015991151412010-02-15T12:39:00.000-08:002010-02-15T12:39:22.681-08:00Blessed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bKPJRGJixxG9tmklUI9wCYHsVxHL-IBnlsigAprio9Do5HyvYlWtS1PbRPI8zytKljKaIJg9EaCs7K-8MaiWgGEBE2ipr391GATQ2_QFsh6Ez4OwJI6YtK_zxKpl2PbFapYZtFaFjOc/s1600-h/Slide1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bKPJRGJixxG9tmklUI9wCYHsVxHL-IBnlsigAprio9Do5HyvYlWtS1PbRPI8zytKljKaIJg9EaCs7K-8MaiWgGEBE2ipr391GATQ2_QFsh6Ez4OwJI6YtK_zxKpl2PbFapYZtFaFjOc/s320/Slide1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I know its been a while, blogland... And I don't even have a good excuse since I've had all sorts of goodies come across my mind and heart I could have been sharing. <br />
One of the things I wanted to take time and share has to do with God speaking into my life with such sweetness. Even as I'm aware of my flaws, and shortcomings, and worries, and the things that weigh on my heart (the ones that keep me awake at night-do you have those too?), even with all those things God has brought His goodness into my life. Or is it I've gained a better vision to see Him at work? Far too much of the time I'm embarrassed to say that I allow my focus to not include God. And when I do put God in the picture, its far more of an intellectual statement that runs along the lines of: "God has been faithful in the past, He has not changed and He is going to take care of me." Yes and yes! Nothing wrong with recognizing God's character in my life. But then again, that statement right there has allowed me too much control. It is a reliance upon fact and lessens my relationship with God. I know God desires me to come to Him, to share with Him rather than comfort myself solely on "fact" (even when it is Truth). So I'm in a learning process, my friends. I'm learning to dialogue more and more with God. And (this is challenging!) I'm learning to listen for His response. <br />
As I've been learning to soak in God's Presence and be engaged in our relationship, I marvel at the ways He shows His sweetness.<br />
Just last night as I was driving in the dark I came upon a delightful experience. It was Valentine's Day evening, and right in front of me I watched a shop owner step out of his restaurant with two huge balloon arrangements. He stood in the middle of my lane, and I came to a stop in front of him to watch this display. Lit by streetlights and shop windows, I watched this man release about 4 dozen balloons into the night. There was something almost fairytale-like about the scene. The whimsy of releasing these balloons, that brief moment as their forms bobbed and danced away, the warmth of the lights spilling onto the street. And then poof, the moment was over.<br />
This morning I was sitting in our student lounge when two of our *ahem* mature students came in with a guitar case between them. These gray-haired men were like two children in their delight over this guitar (which was apparently a good one). I listened as they began to play, and even I could recognize the sweetness of the sound. <br />
There are these achingly sweet and amazing moments in my life that God allows me to experience. In all my processing of thoughts, ideas, emotions, concerns, and fears I am amazingly blessed to catch glimpses of delight and joy!Timmeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17366713988511813319noreply@blogger.com0