tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76716407061850376412024-03-14T04:55:27.821-05:00i am a christ-stumbler.STORIES FROM THE JOURNEYThe Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.comBlogger177125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-48829023198767337342011-08-24T08:39:00.000-05:002011-08-24T08:39:05.065-05:00morning song.It happens every morning. The music is there.<div><br />
</div><div>Going to sleep is always challenging for me. Laying down the lists and the thoughts and the ideas and the cares is a slow thing. Some nights are better than others. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The Lord knows that. And He shows His love in a most special way. He gives me a morning song.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When I wake up, it's there - playing in my head, filling my heart with a soundtrack. The music changes, but the selections are always beautiful. Songs about grace, mercy, forgiveness, joy...the playlist is a sweet gift.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Today's morning song is "I am Set Free" by All Sons & Daughters. Perhaps it can be your morning song too - your soundtrack for this day. </div><div><br />
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</div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-85928479439945019262011-08-16T08:06:00.002-05:002011-08-16T08:16:42.503-05:00(musings) crazy people.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOCAxn0yBgZjRs02oY0pYUMzTVOvkeeSoa3v8pA4q-dFTKhxovJjmLvpVO7vVvldqwuerMdUZOmWAMfJPhsNsXSSd3lGvYNR7iD2WrtlfYiGdyr5s1eUKr8Bl15W-Q-hBm5ltVvuTVEeS/s1600/IMG_0297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOCAxn0yBgZjRs02oY0pYUMzTVOvkeeSoa3v8pA4q-dFTKhxovJjmLvpVO7vVvldqwuerMdUZOmWAMfJPhsNsXSSd3lGvYNR7iD2WrtlfYiGdyr5s1eUKr8Bl15W-Q-hBm5ltVvuTVEeS/s640/IMG_0297.JPG" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The brothers live with their very sick father. Mental illness runs deep in the family. <br />
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We were told not to invest much time talking to the man who answered the door - told he was "crazy." <br />
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He said God had spoken to him in a dream once. Looking at his eyes, I knew he was telling the truth. <br />
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God has spoken to me too. I guess I must be crazy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 27px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone. -Audrey Hepburn</span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 27px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 27px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Everyone deserves to be told about the beauty of grace and mercy. Everyone needs to be shown love. Even crazy people like you and me. <a href="http://www.potsc.com/neverbeyond/never-beyond-poster-series/">We're all People of the Second Chance. </a></i></span></span><br />
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</span></span>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-47700605243302814432011-08-07T00:02:00.001-05:002011-08-07T00:03:28.934-05:00destination and the journey.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">If I hunger for the destination, may I still enjoy the journey? There is such great beauty in both.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Today I was reminded of the value of gathering soul snapshots of the fleeting moments. The impression of the day may be just as precious the clarity of the instant.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJz8WJhRESnIo-T9assgIBOxYZi-JRc5TmCy6O5osM_K820xhsoEtn5krEJr2o992t9zBqAfkjO7lH5D5POj4tZBBkePEMSQ7i4IPuajQjVUxkmujSRh9jBldHGOae4YBJn51TtwepCpN/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJz8WJhRESnIo-T9assgIBOxYZi-JRc5TmCy6O5osM_K820xhsoEtn5krEJr2o992t9zBqAfkjO7lH5D5POj4tZBBkePEMSQ7i4IPuajQjVUxkmujSRh9jBldHGOae4YBJn51TtwepCpN/s640/IMG_0025.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French van. Personalized. We are His hands. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlneCVN4GdWCTYOr0tB6g0WQV7IznirSP49lBFNRI2BuoQXhA0KzTxotrMUIiSH4CC-arVv3cJiFH7qkPtSgwhC7hLKSVL1_Zl0PLWYTrqLZwm4NkvUvwWDJutaakwqGDPZTGVCynDtjX/s1600/IMG_0047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlneCVN4GdWCTYOr0tB6g0WQV7IznirSP49lBFNRI2BuoQXhA0KzTxotrMUIiSH4CC-arVv3cJiFH7qkPtSgwhC7hLKSVL1_Zl0PLWYTrqLZwm4NkvUvwWDJutaakwqGDPZTGVCynDtjX/s640/IMG_0047.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late summer bounty. Oh taste and see.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALozEePliOhHn9-Lu02FS0Bf_T-00C2F8nh41RR66P2HbvXWmDWhluam_W5yYjUvtic_sLCnYvv9U_HTLGf9rPzp8ywzGNKqZT-Ni8imYZf0XNpJIpGUGutBkvYUSlTj3qrSU3RPJktBF/s1600/IMG_0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALozEePliOhHn9-Lu02FS0Bf_T-00C2F8nh41RR66P2HbvXWmDWhluam_W5yYjUvtic_sLCnYvv9U_HTLGf9rPzp8ywzGNKqZT-Ni8imYZf0XNpJIpGUGutBkvYUSlTj3qrSU3RPJktBF/s640/IMG_0071.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romanian forest. His ways are life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Today I was reminded of the value of savoring the breathtaking destination given me. The value of being still after the fleeting moments, of the beautiful collision of impression and clarity.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb0MT5F17mhyphenhyphen6vjG9n_xPYb95xVE5yVgYRRKaUPOekQO7Lpcwt2JkMHIdo4azhSRS8gi9Ihf-ImmxN1gyDEKiJWQemtCQAmxC63sJO9a12yMOEkevGAQfJs3QLklw5Ou8qykKAI4UODvB/s1600/IMG_0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb0MT5F17mhyphenhyphen6vjG9n_xPYb95xVE5yVgYRRKaUPOekQO7Lpcwt2JkMHIdo4azhSRS8gi9Ihf-ImmxN1gyDEKiJWQemtCQAmxC63sJO9a12yMOEkevGAQfJs3QLklw5Ou8qykKAI4UODvB/s640/IMG_0090.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset. Surduc, Romania.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><blockquote><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Shout it, go on and scream it from the mountains. Go on and tell it to the masses. He is God. ~All the Poor and Powerless (All Sons and Daughters)</span></blockquote><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-24903415514526914942011-08-01T17:16:00.000-05:002011-08-01T17:16:42.421-05:00(musings) a delicate life.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">This life itself is but a season, wrapped in seasons. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">It is a memory book filled with small moments. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">It is a breath, a fragrance, a song, an ever-so-delicate bloom.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG9bBQDWVtANtysrWCejSoLHZp88oELFYGnaWpxH7NOd3TKeSwwZmlp_r7fSY_JQYrvEvXsCvl1soHnY8fTIFvF71xNdPKv5udPDY4kc7RkP2nfeN5fjNxObl6cd3fvwxa3aIkNuEh186/s1600/pink+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG9bBQDWVtANtysrWCejSoLHZp88oELFYGnaWpxH7NOd3TKeSwwZmlp_r7fSY_JQYrvEvXsCvl1soHnY8fTIFvF71xNdPKv5udPDY4kc7RkP2nfeN5fjNxObl6cd3fvwxa3aIkNuEh186/s640/pink+flower.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">It calls for divine gentleness. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The Lord expands life to those who love Him. He makes the season abundant and full. He pours joy into the delicate moments and they drink it in. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">He allows the bloom to be brighter. He makes the fragrance sweeter. He makes the memories more vivid. He sings the song. </span></span>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-2926025155153401972011-07-30T10:20:00.000-05:002011-07-30T10:20:43.904-05:00the perfect place to live.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13oQOVKGIRLAKlG1YINuGUCNjdp_uaXDLLK0w1bbPL0-nlhylGd_HgM3tFyAID33aX3uDz2e3qwVbQfGEuWAoTYcR9Ed_erbNORNGcBAwd0J7uYG5tXp4TEikEEv9eWOi912-E9_CADys/s1600/dutch+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13oQOVKGIRLAKlG1YINuGUCNjdp_uaXDLLK0w1bbPL0-nlhylGd_HgM3tFyAID33aX3uDz2e3qwVbQfGEuWAoTYcR9Ed_erbNORNGcBAwd0J7uYG5tXp4TEikEEv9eWOi912-E9_CADys/s640/dutch+door.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Courtesy of Outdoor Home<br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Wisdom is calling out to you, inviting you to live in her neighborhood. She'd love for you to sit with her, talk with her, dine with her. She stands outside waving, encouraging you to pull in the driveway, come inside the house. She lives with Prudence, and her friends Knowledge, Discretion, Integrity and Nobility are next-door neighbors. They are all inside her home- drinking sweet tea and living life to its fullest. She knows other neighborhoods might look more beautiful, might be more lush and enticing with their fine stone and fancy gates. But she knows you'll not be happy there. She knows her warm, home-spun street - with its simple, sunshine-filled homes and Dutch doors - is worth the investment. Conversations there are true and honest and kind - there's not one self-serving, snide "bless your heart" remark to be found. Advice is sincere and uplifting - and the words are words to live by. Days are full and sleep is sweet.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Wisdom has lived in the neighborhood for what seems like forever. She was there when the Builder and Architect designed it. She put hand to the plow when the gardens were being designed, and helped drill the deep wells of life-giving springs. She watched Him speak life into the community - watched him craft the homes and breathe color into the flowers. She smiled as He drew the roads in just the right way to encourage slow, thoughtful drives. He set the boundaries, filled the ponds, painted those Dutch doors with bright, inviting colors.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Wisdom's neighborhood is rich in all the things that count. And the gardens there? Full and abundant, with enough for everyone. Every single person has all they need. Their aprons are filled with sun-kissed, sun-ripened delights. </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The sweet tea is ready. The Dutch door is open. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Candara, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">(inspired by Proverbs 8)</span></span></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-91485952462855567492011-07-27T09:43:00.001-05:002011-07-27T19:10:57.652-05:00i am a cheater.<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Be glad of life, because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars. ~Henry Van Dyke</span></blockquote>I'll admit it. I'm suffering from a bad case of "restless life syndrome" right now. Though my days are full of perfectly lovely God-crafted moments, there are some rough patches that look a lot like our backyard - scratchy and prickly and uncomfortable. I'm praying for rain. I know it's coming - it always does. But right now, it's dry. And I'm dry.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMFMlQJQwvfkHsUOVvY3x52r5xwx7tkcnWk1aP59t-l4t0EaIDJXex_ZwkwNfDR3iigCz5ixKeD9aP6usvY0uUoUihUiZdGYw6SuupZJrp-7kHg0ar8zud7TLkUxPieSOyqa4hRC2dZpG/s1600/dry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMFMlQJQwvfkHsUOVvY3x52r5xwx7tkcnWk1aP59t-l4t0EaIDJXex_ZwkwNfDR3iigCz5ixKeD9aP6usvY0uUoUihUiZdGYw6SuupZJrp-7kHg0ar8zud7TLkUxPieSOyqa4hRC2dZpG/s640/dry.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div>And it's easy in seasons like this to allow my eyes to wander - to look longingly at the lives of others and begin crafting stories that I just know are far more adventurous and sexy than mine could ever be.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I begin writing fairy tales, when my own true story - with its seasons of drought and its seasons of rain - has a far greater "happily ever after" than anything I could imagine or even think.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And that's cheating on this life. </div><div><div><div><div><div><br />
</div><blockquote>Don't allow the flirtations of someone else's beautiful life to catch your eye. Don't dabble in the affections of another's journey. If you chase after a different story, you'll stumble and scatter every word of your own. Live your life fully. Grab that pen and write. Let the Lord breathe the words into your heart. Let the Lord craft the most beautiful sentences out of those words. Let your God-given, everyday life be the best story you tell. (inspired by Proverbs 6)</blockquote></div></div></div></div><div><br />
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</div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-11285404752988674142011-07-19T08:14:00.001-05:002011-07-19T17:52:43.947-05:00(musings) love and faithfulness.Cling to steadfast love and faithfulness as you travel this life. Wear them like you wear the most elegant of jewels. People will be in awe of them. People will find them absolutely stunning.<br />
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And trust the Craftsman. If He created the jewels, how much more can He create beauty in you as you journey. Don't concern yourself with how the facets will be chiseled, or how each bead will be strung. The Craftsman's eye for detail will take even the most flawed of stones and transform them into perfection. His design will be breathtaking - and life-giving. And eternally beautiful.<br />
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Inspired by Proverbs 3The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-54496874244130615992011-07-14T09:10:00.000-05:002011-07-14T09:10:38.577-05:00(musings) where the lord lives.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-J_SMLC0pRWk7MiKRI0DlrwYh-xW4AZV9nDEzr_zyeY82dgAOlyCU4AUVevZ0EW3vnBs0UdT1CM37g8oDV3dXzIxBe84FxiE62V-ZpMzZf9WChOt6RFrNLgz2cwEv9LvlxD4-_ou9rvyy/s1600/IMG_2983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-J_SMLC0pRWk7MiKRI0DlrwYh-xW4AZV9nDEzr_zyeY82dgAOlyCU4AUVevZ0EW3vnBs0UdT1CM37g8oDV3dXzIxBe84FxiE62V-ZpMzZf9WChOt6RFrNLgz2cwEv9LvlxD4-_ou9rvyy/s640/IMG_2983.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Just trust in the Lord - move into His neighborhood. Settle in and make friends with His kind faithfulness. Sit on His porch swing, and have lingering conversations with Him about life and love and all things worthwhile and everything mundane. He'll knock on your door bearing beautifully fragrant, mouth-watering grace-filled gifts. He'll surprise and delight you daily.<br />
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Inspired by Psalm 37:3-4The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-10981159178183518842011-07-13T09:52:00.000-05:002011-07-13T09:52:46.566-05:00the communion of solitude - a confession.This is a confession of sorts. Or maybe it's a prayer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwLsXNoUpxZ_XvDXpCkYRzyw0K1s8CJ5-hYaANggk9ixOLojbZkBgjR8-f0hTSDWT8WyUaF9WUKT4KusZyHBCPNlG29WuhqscgRISbP60lSYXa7rvllPVbig4_1hHinUOB5JNQ5sUP1rP/s1600/IMG_9365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwLsXNoUpxZ_XvDXpCkYRzyw0K1s8CJ5-hYaANggk9ixOLojbZkBgjR8-f0hTSDWT8WyUaF9WUKT4KusZyHBCPNlG29WuhqscgRISbP60lSYXa7rvllPVbig4_1hHinUOB5JNQ5sUP1rP/s640/IMG_9365.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am craving a day of just sitting on the balcony and listening - for hours on end. Then simply transcribing. I'm hungry for the quiet that reverberates through the heavens and into my heart. I'm thirsty for the communion that is found in solitude.<br />
<br />
The present season is a good season, full of projects and writing and baking and hopes and dreams and friends and family. There are quiet moments early in the day and late at night - moments where I breathe in sacred words from my sweet God All-Mighty and breathe out thoughts and prayers. But there is a hole in my heart that is filled by the days of quiet listening.<br />
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So, if you read this and feel so inclined, hold me to the highest. Tell me it's OK to put the present season on hold for a day. Remind me of the communion of solitude. And listening. And simply transcribing.<br />
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I promise. I'll hold you, too.The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-37455485496217367442011-07-08T08:46:00.000-05:002011-07-08T08:46:19.278-05:00Who I am. Today.Today, I have a date. There won't be flowers or wine or fancy food. The picnic basket will be filled with sodas, chips, water - and sweet potatoes and applesauce. A stray or two may come along.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The music won't be romantic, and I won't wear a flowing dress.<br />
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But the date will be perfect. Because it will remind me who I am - and <i>whose</i> I am.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmWHZhBz0WMnlt7RbvU-hO0vvFi1iykhcIQpd7MoKj0DNS9Q0KM2zDkj31xVzHLvcLsJU4Wz30fZ9nHTp00a_bql5CjLdcSy7yD-Sq_Jeke0nkr3EGq7XC9nZZvl-6oCVIJLxL1aQc5ue/s1600/family%252Cjpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmWHZhBz0WMnlt7RbvU-hO0vvFi1iykhcIQpd7MoKj0DNS9Q0KM2zDkj31xVzHLvcLsJU4Wz30fZ9nHTp00a_bql5CjLdcSy7yD-Sq_Jeke0nkr3EGq7XC9nZZvl-6oCVIJLxL1aQc5ue/s640/family%252Cjpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am wife, Scooby, June Bug, Sweet Pea.<br />
I am mom, mommy, mother (said in a deep, affected voice with a smile).<br />
I am Gigi.<br />
I am loved. Without condition. Regardless of what I do.<br />
I am chosen. A pearl of great price. A princess, really.<br />
<br />
Today, I'll not listen to the whispers of "you need to be a somebody to count for something." Today, I'll not surrender to the pressure of needing to find my place or make my voice louder in this world. Today, I'll walk away from finding the perfect words or the perfect picture to capture the perfect moment.<br />
<br />
Today, I'll simply rest in the beauty of being on a date with God and my family. Today, I'll rest in the beauty of being alive.The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-14506349462084653982011-07-02T23:55:00.001-05:002011-07-03T00:18:25.170-05:00(musings) a thousand words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjRp8205rbf4Ww1f-GdF6RWZnI9S14WanpIVUoj1uXDd15CEv4EPTLqtaNmNWn9THHDTIYPsq5KiaFRA7ieqKQoyoBbqrpuhkdpkLaweZhlGYNl9FumAav4YSCCyUk_U0-k6UBLWLKugm/s1600/backroads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjRp8205rbf4Ww1f-GdF6RWZnI9S14WanpIVUoj1uXDd15CEv4EPTLqtaNmNWn9THHDTIYPsq5KiaFRA7ieqKQoyoBbqrpuhkdpkLaweZhlGYNl9FumAav4YSCCyUk_U0-k6UBLWLKugm/s640/backroads.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-87152401940752857712011-06-25T10:36:00.003-05:002011-07-03T00:18:53.783-05:00(musings) open hands.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrFTDXP6T3kleoUjKHwjZlVHAKtrwVIUnJdWql7oOUm3_irf-bvFRjbadFpYbK07M5I39beGDCKHOvIEdT2MHXC-PNGRFlRmrFpNr9fgYB0G9nWFx__UupZYG2NwR8IhnvoHX4vJvXGcu/s1600/IMG_8459.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrFTDXP6T3kleoUjKHwjZlVHAKtrwVIUnJdWql7oOUm3_irf-bvFRjbadFpYbK07M5I39beGDCKHOvIEdT2MHXC-PNGRFlRmrFpNr9fgYB0G9nWFx__UupZYG2NwR8IhnvoHX4vJvXGcu/s640/IMG_8459.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Those with hands open to give can't help but receive.</div></span><br />
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</div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-16994544344782923822011-06-24T09:41:00.002-05:002011-07-03T00:19:35.726-05:00(musings) painting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSiW4sNeaZZGawWJQZqVGIEW72rNb85esG7kKMWZt7nlDfVfHs73qfjo_QGol16UtXVZNs5Bq_qit37E2rmeXGsdOHuXXWwVsNiXg2p7MaAbInNJjLwWyUI2fo2Up2h54Su2y6DSUEAIKC/s1600/IMG_1390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSiW4sNeaZZGawWJQZqVGIEW72rNb85esG7kKMWZt7nlDfVfHs73qfjo_QGol16UtXVZNs5Bq_qit37E2rmeXGsdOHuXXWwVsNiXg2p7MaAbInNJjLwWyUI2fo2Up2h54Su2y6DSUEAIKC/s640/IMG_1390.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Let's paint a picture of the Lord God All-Mighty that will hang on the walls for new generations to see. Let's paint one of new mercy and grace, of a tender Savior who greatly loves and sets prisoners free, of a strong Commander who is mighty in battle, of a holy Heavenly Father who is worthy of all praise. Let's paint it in vivid colors that won't fade over time. Let's paint with strokes bold and delicate, with texture and nuance. Let's paint a canvas large enough for all to see and small enough to stand ever-so-near. And let's paint a story worth reading, a scene worth entering, a landscape worth running in...<br />
<br />
~inspired by Psalm 102The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-51888607300200562752011-06-18T09:07:00.001-05:002011-07-03T00:21:08.824-05:00Ebb. Flow. Change.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No crashing curls. No mist-filled air. Simply one rhythmic wave after another. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mzeFCp51QSK50ZAh59R19e4KMHGIcNMqzUu16EZK8lZrfiFNZvitV4QDQglkdzBSHxQ01_5vWsGERVfMm-KCbQG_LAHoVFTT6RB9dy6N6LSKThaGiZ3IX2EBq0FAqrzKI62B6QbiVjSK/s1600/waves2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mzeFCp51QSK50ZAh59R19e4KMHGIcNMqzUu16EZK8lZrfiFNZvitV4QDQglkdzBSHxQ01_5vWsGERVfMm-KCbQG_LAHoVFTT6RB9dy6N6LSKThaGiZ3IX2EBq0FAqrzKI62B6QbiVjSK/s640/waves2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange Beach, Alabama. Early morning moments.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In moments so small they might be missed while in the moment, the landscape changes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stand on the shore and feel the ground fall away below me with each ebb and flow. The waves paint a watercolor picture of feast and fallow and feast again. On the shore is inscribed, “Behold, I make all things new.” </span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMK9pWom0Fn7gsL9Zpq7WQ2wBn8VsVLdi1169nnTAVSNQACL_HEvhP6NOaL1MfgmAdSulQOkzLqskge_zQH9b7CHzkLM6sFzoxQNuBH5ByITN48rx-cJCqUOzSogHuyG0VpmPOoAOtN4K/s1600/sand+falls+away.001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMK9pWom0Fn7gsL9Zpq7WQ2wBn8VsVLdi1169nnTAVSNQACL_HEvhP6NOaL1MfgmAdSulQOkzLqskge_zQH9b7CHzkLM6sFzoxQNuBH5ByITN48rx-cJCqUOzSogHuyG0VpmPOoAOtN4K/s640/sand+falls+away.001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me not fight against the waves. Let this landscape change for the glory of God. </span><br />
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</div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-26228144395182669182011-06-17T11:07:00.003-05:002011-07-03T00:22:06.586-05:00Lessons from a Tractor<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I heard him before I saw him. The hum of the motor blended with the wash of the waves on the quiet beach.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUShRlisEMbNBuFCqiIOLU13cXxgoe_NFFVE2vAbm5gQnvK_c5v7EAAtxmL2P2SU41KOrHK9bJNdAYpaTpHYf0B3LOc7mozYqTUlgl2FAeTd3a1Kb_GYxwVpkMq_UnnAVAC3X2_TOpebN/s1600/tractor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUShRlisEMbNBuFCqiIOLU13cXxgoe_NFFVE2vAbm5gQnvK_c5v7EAAtxmL2P2SU41KOrHK9bJNdAYpaTpHYf0B3LOc7mozYqTUlgl2FAeTd3a1Kb_GYxwVpkMq_UnnAVAC3X2_TOpebN/s640/tractor.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Before the crowds, before the laughter, before the sand castles and volleyball tournaments, there was work to be done. The beachcomber's work was evident - beautiful designs formed along the driver’s journey. Slowly and without fanfare, he created the palette for the colorful day. It would be a rare soul who would gratefully recognize his gift later in the day, though they would enjoy its benefits.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">But still he worked. Still he created the palette. As sleepy vacationers complained about the tractor’s noise, he worked. As impatient children growled their frustration at his slow progress, he worked. As the sand shifted and moved and stirred, not wanting to yield to the design, he worked. He knew his purpose - and he honored it.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTARBfbYqNvPMD9Gm7ObTdSspjcYad390magxgwVu3JFniS0yQJif-qTqLa14XCZ8EAeTUvLMdyFOd8BVAK8TmXBz8IFS8ixC8fKFT4am0GT2u6sAFx5iRpyjTBnNRPkZjgxXOmKy9rfB/s1600/tractor+closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTARBfbYqNvPMD9Gm7ObTdSspjcYad390magxgwVu3JFniS0yQJif-qTqLa14XCZ8EAeTUvLMdyFOd8BVAK8TmXBz8IFS8ixC8fKFT4am0GT2u6sAFx5iRpyjTBnNRPkZjgxXOmKy9rfB/s640/tractor+closeup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I wept as I watched the designs being formed, thankful for the picture of Colossians 3:23 in that beachcomber on the early-morning beach. I needed to be reminded of what my purpose is and Who it is I am working for - as I work and serve and simply live this life I’ve been given. I needed to be reminded that purposeful work often goes unnoticed by others but never by the Lord. I needed to be reminded to be the soul who gratefully recognizes purposeful work in others rather than complain or growl because it doesn’t meet my own self-serving expectations. I needed to be refocused - and the hum of the motor whispered "Simply. Serve. Jesus." </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><blockquote>Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.</blockquote><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Note: Thanks to <a href="http://www.patricklockerman.net/">Patrick Lockerman</a> for giving this landlocked gal a vocabulary lesson. Now I know what "beachcomber" really means.</span></span>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-4689491352544564912011-06-07T00:04:00.000-05:002011-06-07T00:04:35.199-05:00Today's Joy.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXg8dwjPmCkhDP-iobGWREt_QT2coug2awPQAmb70D6kcRDVR9jsNqCjx0xRTvCrCjvATAXo1-y-YGwLmo6co6UZ_-Xg_S4yF6XSvbambPwIwOBHjsv6gIYtUWNShHctxxE7iSlQ53RbUN/s1600/sunshiney+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXg8dwjPmCkhDP-iobGWREt_QT2coug2awPQAmb70D6kcRDVR9jsNqCjx0xRTvCrCjvATAXo1-y-YGwLmo6co6UZ_-Xg_S4yF6XSvbambPwIwOBHjsv6gIYtUWNShHctxxE7iSlQ53RbUN/s400/sunshiney+day.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last season's swimsuit. Yesterday's hairdo. Today's joy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>For most of life, nothing wonderful happens. If you don't enjoy getting up and working and finishing your work and sitting down to a meal with family or friends, then the chances are that you're not going to be very happy. If someone bases his happiness or unhappiness on major events like a great new job, huge amounts of money, a flawlessly happy marriage or a trip to Paris, that person isn't going to be happy much of the time. If, on the other hand, happiness depends on a good breakfast, flowers in the yard, a drink or a nap, then we are more likely to live with quite a bit of happiness. ~Andy RooneyThe Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-75761739327866904482011-06-05T13:07:00.001-05:002011-06-05T13:30:24.682-05:00(musings) sparkle.In every mundane moment, there's something more to be found. Lord, help me to see with eyes that see beyond the seen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcbEtrHp0i5glHCZwhlEbzipD5QeY7HPEHGg50f4cCbd4NCV43jiPfsFDpQq3s4PhYhhqV2EC8mWCEmFVDHxq169sQdYpllkZM2WPxahW93N90TOMix3F1Cv21iszi3xIomtubBf1k6wh/s1600/leftover+sugar+glitter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcbEtrHp0i5glHCZwhlEbzipD5QeY7HPEHGg50f4cCbd4NCV43jiPfsFDpQq3s4PhYhhqV2EC8mWCEmFVDHxq169sQdYpllkZM2WPxahW93N90TOMix3F1Cv21iszi3xIomtubBf1k6wh/s400/leftover+sugar+glitter.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">discarded sugar dust. a mess to clean. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYAl8EOqSRMZra0ByjPvkJiBJ1Y7556PGpSlVnM9nx2QuiLcLKi3T9W3UPzvlsvwvxyRlUMfkBEmmjXT4_5_ji6pvmh9nFXwDPBzcIzdAy4KIoK5-pvOXVlvnXD2JjDYTqTFN7YrvH_tg/s1600/sparkleshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYAl8EOqSRMZra0ByjPvkJiBJ1Y7556PGpSlVnM9nx2QuiLcLKi3T9W3UPzvlsvwvxyRlUMfkBEmmjXT4_5_ji6pvmh9nFXwDPBzcIzdAy4KIoK5-pvOXVlvnXD2JjDYTqTFN7YrvH_tg/s400/sparkleshine.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunshine + discarded sugar dust = beautiful sparkle. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-69939151513824555932011-06-05T11:06:00.000-05:002011-06-05T11:06:08.659-05:00Ritual. Reminder.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The morning ritual. </i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFInWxM-2NtnXMnHD8yneb5bfO0lnY5djg0GdbDX_HArEIHBG5P8lF_PZq2TpDNAbDrueW4UeygxhSGe0G94UoWAKBp432JNQUqvPL86yUP8HZE2OJoBEZEVKYHkd6-9mIciGwAhZ33x9/s1600/ritual.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFInWxM-2NtnXMnHD8yneb5bfO0lnY5djg0GdbDX_HArEIHBG5P8lF_PZq2TpDNAbDrueW4UeygxhSGe0G94UoWAKBp432JNQUqvPL86yUP8HZE2OJoBEZEVKYHkd6-9mIciGwAhZ33x9/s400/ritual.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a name='more'></a></i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The slightest bit of sun peeks through the blinds. The pup snuggles. The precious husband brings coffee and a kiss. The computer is opened to three tabs - EXAMENme, BibleGateway, and Matthew Henry's commentary. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so it begins. And so it fills. <i>Without morning ritual, there is no life in my veins.</i> Listening to my Lord in the beginning of the day allows me to listen with my heart the rest of the day.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And on days like today, as I pray for so many who are needing, the words He speaks are a personal love letter.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><blockquote>But now, God's Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob, the One who got you started, Israel: "Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end— Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you: all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you." ~Isaiah 43:1-4 (MSG)</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvco7yBA0L0mBSsWjjjs_7MA5wyj3BmbIMkXbBXz4Qmu-c6lGXZ1zhHXdyZw2z0JWZuVoe7_VE3bBtFx9SXM0TVnrSo0SW43QUpdJBqJWVXc1vnfxd6A_zA0RNpESrI8O3uEklNR0dkmHp/s1600/ritual.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvco7yBA0L0mBSsWjjjs_7MA5wyj3BmbIMkXbBXz4Qmu-c6lGXZ1zhHXdyZw2z0JWZuVoe7_VE3bBtFx9SXM0TVnrSo0SW43QUpdJBqJWVXc1vnfxd6A_zA0RNpESrI8O3uEklNR0dkmHp/s400/ritual.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span></div></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-27058536680910226342011-06-02T10:38:00.004-05:002011-06-02T11:18:32.960-05:00God Teaches through Toenails.<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish the race was prettier. But it’s not.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDrqqUjQaFi-aza5YpZv8w6XyUrm5wEId0PJ5IveS3OThNQUDsiSwG2JZIMUzGiDZyZ3J9vxAPKUajLbIhOcWrGYpZbiOzM-oHAP4TZzTvBFCwwZI03KeTBXRLdIvpdAeOkWUkXHKWCkI/s1600/happier+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDrqqUjQaFi-aza5YpZv8w6XyUrm5wEId0PJ5IveS3OThNQUDsiSwG2JZIMUzGiDZyZ3J9vxAPKUajLbIhOcWrGYpZbiOzM-oHAP4TZzTvBFCwwZI03KeTBXRLdIvpdAeOkWUkXHKWCkI/s400/happier+days.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happier toes. April 25th.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a name='more'></a>Running has become a picture of my everyday life. There are days when it’s easy to put on the shoes, days when I just don’t want the feeling of my feet dancing on the pavement or trails to end. There are days when those same shoes feel like lead. There are seasons where faithfulness is easy - and seasons where I am so weary or busy or just plain lazy that faithfulness is more a deliberate decision than a joyful happening. But still I run.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXR5JdyUF5xyAanizt-MDCTrwgQtLeQ-8vyULQgrliD_VERDgOaw8_cWSQzI3PQQSLksVSRRxC2csgCsxNw6XTzWsrVb1YQ7j38nvTMxpy2JepeiYt9ElIJNSIiGOq4BTXwmLKX7PloPdV/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXR5JdyUF5xyAanizt-MDCTrwgQtLeQ-8vyULQgrliD_VERDgOaw8_cWSQzI3PQQSLksVSRRxC2csgCsxNw6XTzWsrVb1YQ7j38nvTMxpy2JepeiYt9ElIJNSIiGOq4BTXwmLKX7PloPdV/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mind you, I’m not a great runner. I’ve laughed that “I run to eat.” But since 2010, running has been there, thanks to great cheerleaders like my friends Amy, Crystal, Rick, Courtney, and my sweet family. It’s less about the act of running, and more about the experience of it. It’s about the rhythm, the soundtrack that plays when music is in one ear and the birds and breeze and barking dogs are in the other, the changing palette of colors as the seasons awaken and then slumber and then awaken again. And it’s about what God says. He speaks about endurance, focus, joy, disappointment. He reminds me about the beauty of community, the power in friendship, and the essential need we all have for encouragement. He teaches through good moments, and He teaches through pain.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And right now, He’s teaching through toenails.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAc8eCMcDS2SQoWVpfrCZ9RCr7Ms1mKvL5snAKkzCFuxrxMV1CyPKY-Mz_dmdZRimFfjGgdZZtD-Gu0FQDRufZn4YoTntFo8q0HO39zTNyrm87ZnseakTCwlBSZ7al4-dQVfosTFHS7Ws/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAc8eCMcDS2SQoWVpfrCZ9RCr7Ms1mKvL5snAKkzCFuxrxMV1CyPKY-Mz_dmdZRimFfjGgdZZtD-Gu0FQDRufZn4YoTntFo8q0HO39zTNyrm87ZnseakTCwlBSZ7al4-dQVfosTFHS7Ws/s400/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On April 30th, I ran the Music City Half-Marathon with one of my oldest and most precious friends, Migdalia. We both did everything right to prepare - purchased shoes that worked best for our feet, trained well, rested well, dressed well, set realistic goals, and cheered each other on. We crossed the finish line together and wore our medals with pride (as we ate fried chicken and biscuits at <a href="http://www.lovelesscafe.com/">Loveless Cafe</a>). The day is now documented as an official “bucket list” moment for me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSadFAEfDLq57MfrvXxSyo-ADL8K8WBRI91gcUICLXOKqLLyDwVXRh8K5O1_BI7GChOF9xOImE0COAJxxQ45Y-J08v_HKUhSJcF0rcHvuj27sb-1ug9Gwl0Ret7wvsHtd23pZgXzoldE5e/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSadFAEfDLq57MfrvXxSyo-ADL8K8WBRI91gcUICLXOKqLLyDwVXRh8K5O1_BI7GChOF9xOImE0COAJxxQ45Y-J08v_HKUhSJcF0rcHvuj27sb-1ug9Gwl0Ret7wvsHtd23pZgXzoldE5e/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blue polish covers the bruises underneath the toes. The bandaids cover the sadness. The tape holds the bandaids on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, a month later, I’m doing all I can to hang on to two toenails. They’ve been trimmed and painted to look like all the other toenails on my feet. They are bandaged and taped tightly when I run. I’ve even gone so far as to Superglue the edges down when I wear sandals so they won’t move. But at the end of the day, those old nails are coming off. Slowly. Very slowly. </span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be perfectly honest, I don’t want them to leave. They’ve worked well for a really long time. There’s nothing really wrong with them at all. In fact, they were doing their job perfectly when they were damaged in the battle of that half-marathon. And they were damaged “just because” - not due to tight shoes or a bad fall. But “new” is happening underneath the bruises and nail polish. It’s a new I can’t see, a new I don’t fully understand, and a new that doesn’t seem to be happening with any speed. I can’t rush it. I can’t fix it. I can’t fake it. But I can rest assured it’s going to be better.</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And so He teaches. He reminds me that, for the most part, trials come not because of anything we've done or not done - they just happen. We run the race well and still get bruised. And if we remain faithful, the best awaits on the other side of the pain. Today, it’s through Job 23 (the paraphrase is mine).</span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He's working on my left, but I can't see what He's doing.</span> He's working on my right, but I can't figure it out. But He promises that when all is said and done, I'll be refined. When His new comes, I’ll shine like gold. I'll run where He wants, I'll stay on the path.</blockquote><br />
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What does God use to teach you in your everyday life?</span></i></span></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-88161839055147196112011-06-01T09:11:00.000-05:002011-06-01T09:11:56.000-05:00(musings) Manna.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I asked "Can manna be packed in a picnic basket?" </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlomVtXe9eBfNKHOhLfxIH3ns2MEq34b5E5etH4FLk2JlgWmIzaYB59eOAouZjH1_iSaw85kE0qqd3W9-wUxeym4XNpujzNNGmYVx9aTtIup8-5EkRrBdwir0EQXjMdVM7zUh6wq2zkTQl/s1600/basket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlomVtXe9eBfNKHOhLfxIH3ns2MEq34b5E5etH4FLk2JlgWmIzaYB59eOAouZjH1_iSaw85kE0qqd3W9-wUxeym4XNpujzNNGmYVx9aTtIup8-5EkRrBdwir0EQXjMdVM7zUh6wq2zkTQl/s400/basket.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And today came the answer.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><blockquote>...Even if you have only bread or water, with these you can still meet the dues of hospitality. Even if you do not have these, but simply make the stranger welcome and offer him a word of encouragement, you will not be failing in hospitality. Think of the widow mentioned in the Gospel by our Lord: with two mites she surpassed the generous gifts of the wealthy. </blockquote><blockquote>~St. Theodoros, the Great Ascetic</blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Father, please help me to keep my basket full for others, even in seasons of simply manna.</span><br />
<blockquote> </blockquote></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-12713400391618211302011-05-28T09:51:00.000-05:002011-05-28T09:51:07.060-05:00(musings) Symphony.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqySB8guyeKNZb-9YAQF8-Fi6hmLiibrLg9g8aCi9OqVGgwenvFj_mUSIlKJ7AQzW5Kr5humK_HK-6xc3MSHzQdjrOBd2nwply1_E5UdZoUfnin6BIO0UvvZ2fWMXt0QJP_gRRifUCUk8F/s1600/violin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqySB8guyeKNZb-9YAQF8-Fi6hmLiibrLg9g8aCi9OqVGgwenvFj_mUSIlKJ7AQzW5Kr5humK_HK-6xc3MSHzQdjrOBd2nwply1_E5UdZoUfnin6BIO0UvvZ2fWMXt0QJP_gRRifUCUk8F/s400/violin.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 14.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Christ grabbed His conductor's baton, stepped into the orchestra pit, and taught each of us the fine, delicate notes of His original score. He wasn't concerned with which musicians were professionals and which musicians had never played before. He heard the song in each of us - a song of hope.</div><div style="font: 14.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 14.0px Helvetica; line-height: 20.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;">When we live in harmony, we are a symphony.</div><blockquote>Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way. ~Colossians 3:15-17</blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(inspired by Romans 15) </span></span>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-32560372119693746682011-05-27T09:01:00.001-05:002011-05-27T09:02:34.447-05:00(musings) He whispers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Lord whispers definition...</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BYIRRSf1GlzqyZ8PeKBKFencCzbmsPpEP7VbHxbgUcTuIh7o6aICCNUHXoec7AgOH9xUpwgEbt2lUNC8AEPTS3uLDWlPVI3ZunipS28inpzujQ8SmF_s3wAC_ARmipQnih5GL9ethLMc/s1600/quiet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BYIRRSf1GlzqyZ8PeKBKFencCzbmsPpEP7VbHxbgUcTuIh7o6aICCNUHXoec7AgOH9xUpwgEbt2lUNC8AEPTS3uLDWlPVI3ZunipS28inpzujQ8SmF_s3wAC_ARmipQnih5GL9ethLMc/s400/quiet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today, He whispers "quiet time is a moment - and a command." </span><br />
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</div></div></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-831467081520361372011-05-26T09:20:00.002-05:002011-05-26T09:21:15.964-05:00Shine.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I want to be a star. Today, I want to shine.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAA8QZupp8LE1FphCVD9EpEg1WJcSezTL6WbHUNQcCdICaHnVo-5K6IgblaWtPFL-35nNvp4khTrvfgRU4EKXlpC0ywHYd1Z1s0LRMFMWiCXUrYER8-bxpkmqI6T1Hj_dVWeH4zz27zmKH/s1600/0065_xray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAA8QZupp8LE1FphCVD9EpEg1WJcSezTL6WbHUNQcCdICaHnVo-5K6IgblaWtPFL-35nNvp4khTrvfgRU4EKXlpC0ywHYd1Z1s0LRMFMWiCXUrYER8-bxpkmqI6T1Hj_dVWeH4zz27zmKH/s400/0065_xray.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God is - with painstaking detail - crafting His story within you. And He is giving you the power to say "yes" to that story - and to Him. Watch Him work. Savor every moment. Let Him shine in you, so you can shine like stars in a world that desperately needs His light.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/026YlRFUfkQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(inspired by Philippians 2)</span></span></div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-74515209104434267902011-05-26T08:50:00.000-05:002011-05-26T08:50:45.793-05:00God Weaves Beautiful Tapestry.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7a7a7a; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is the story of rocks and paint and sugar and smiles. And how God weaves all things together into a tapestry – for His glory, for our joy, for the good of others.</div><blockquote style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #666666; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 30px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 10px; quotes: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece. <strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">- <em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">John Ruskin</em></strong></div></blockquote><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L7flREig_H0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<span class="embed-youtube" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><br />
</span><span class="embed-youtube" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">Making play places safer. Teaching girls sweet skills. Transforming bedrooms into places to dream. Brightening the “hello.” Celebrating 7 years of love and care for the discarded. Our time at Cerecaif was a true tapestry of joy, hope, and love.</span>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7671640706185037641.post-88137756388390820532011-05-23T18:38:00.001-05:002011-05-23T19:52:38.654-05:00You Bring - Love.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7a7a7a; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is the story of a little man and his sweet corazoncito – and the power of returning.</em></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Once upon a time in the year 2008, a love story was born. In the corner of a sun-drenched courtyard at a little nursing home called Cabacitas de Algodon (Little House of CottonTops), a little man had set up his small “studio.” He carefully drew a house, his feeble hands holding well-worn colored pencils. This wasn’t any house, mind you. It was an elevation – the type of sketch used by homebuilders. Meticulous and mindful, he focused on his work, oblivious to the team of North Americans who had walked through the gates with guitars and new shoes. His art was his passion.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">And it was someone else’s passion too.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-manuel-2008-0011.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #17517b; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-589 aligncenter" height="318" src="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-manuel-2008-0011.png?w=490&h=318" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 5px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; border-right-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 5px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 5px; display: block; font-size: 14px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 10px; max-width: 490px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Courtney and Don Manuel 2008.001" width="490" /></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">Courtney walked over and asked to see the sketch. At first he was shy, but when she shared she was an artist too, he smiled. His name was Don Manuel, and he was a construction worker until an accident sent him to the hospital. Without a family to care for him, Don Manuel and his permanent limp (from a broken hip) were moved to Cabacitas to live out their days. He showed her his other sketches – of mountains and lakes and buildings. He found his inspirations in magazine photos, and copied each one with such fine detail. She asked to see his pencils, and then quickly ran to the bus to get a fresh supply of colored pencils and crayons for him to use. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. That day, Courtney fell in love in Don Manuel.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-2009.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #17517b; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-590" height="604" src="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-2009.jpg?w=453&h=604" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 5px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; border-right-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 5px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 5px; display: block; font-size: 14px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 10px; max-width: 490px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Courtney 2009" width="453" /></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">The next year – knowing she was returning to Cabacitas – Courtney collected even more art supplies for Don Manuel. Her friend JimBo donated a very handsome case filled with fancy design tools. She couldn’t wait to see if Don Manuel was still there, and if he would remember her. As she walked through the gate of Cabacitas, she spotted the little man with the limp. He was again working on sketches in the sun-drenched courtyard. He saw her and smiled. She showed him a photo of her visit a year before and asked if he remembered. He did. They looked at his new sketches, and she then presented him with his gifts. He wept, hugged her and kissed her on the cheek – then cradled her face in his withered hands and kissed her on the forehead. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she told him of her friends in North America who had heard about his art and wanted to give him supplies so he could do even more. And then she took one of the sketchbooks she had given him and drew. In the middle of a beautiful heart, she wrote the words “Jesus te ama, Corina.”</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-2010.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #17517b; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-591" height="367" src="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-2010.jpg?w=490&h=367" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 5px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; border-right-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 5px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 5px; display: block; font-size: 14px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 10px; max-width: 490px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Courtney and Don 2010" width="490" /></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The next year, Courtney couldn’t wait until the day she could visit Don Manuel. She wondered if he still had his art supplies in the case he was given, and wondered if he would remember her. This time the team included six girls from Evita’s House, and she was excited to introduce the girls to the little man with the limp. As she walked through the gate, he saw her and stood. He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead – then showed her his sketches. Grabbing his cane, he scurried off to his room, and returned with the case filled with supplies. Courtney wept as she saw how he carefully he cared for the gifts he had been given. She learned that he was now selling his sketches to visitors to Cabacitas, so that he could purchase toilet paper and snacks.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This present year, Courtney again returned to Cabacitas with her team, carrying gifts of toilet paper, pan dulce, fresh vegetables, and coffee. She laughed when she shared with her team that friends had delivered toilet paper and Pan Dulce to Don Manuel and the rest of the residents earlier in the year – and how he took an entire bag of the treats rather than just one. Standing outside the gate, she watched as he chatted with other visitors.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-manuel-2011-001.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #17517b; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-592" height="255" src="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/courtney-and-don-manuel-2011-001.png?w=490&h=255" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 5px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; border-right-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 5px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 5px; display: block; font-size: 14px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 10px; max-width: 490px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Courtney and Don Manuel 2011.001" width="490" /></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The once shy little man was now proudly showing his artwork to others. He spied her through the bars, and stood. She ran to him and they hugged. Again, he held her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. “Corazoncito,” he whispered. She sat and they talked.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">For the first time, he shared his story.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">An orphan, he had been raised by nuns in the city of Xela, and at one time was married to a lovely woman who had gone to Heaven. He had always wanted to be an artist, but a life as a construction worker provided for his family. Now he was unable to work, but could be an artist. He said 5pm was snack time on construction sites, and he still craved coffee and something sweet each day at that time – he satisfied his cravings with little pieces of cookie or cake that he would carefully wrap in a handkerchief and tuck away under his pillow.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Then he shared something else with Courtney.</div><blockquote style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #666666; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 30px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 10px; quotes: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">He opened a notebook to a picture I drew two years ago. He says he looks at it everyday. He shows me that the three pages following my drawing have been left blank…in hopes of my return. I left him with a new drawing yesterday. He left me with a reminder that when we touch lives in ministry, it is seldom forgotten.</div></blockquote><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/n822319917_1367978_2323.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #17517b; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-594" height="150" src="http://wordpainters.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/n822319917_1367978_2323.jpg?w=112&h=150" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 5px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; border-right-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 5px; border-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(159, 206, 241); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 5px; float: left; font-size: 14px; height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 10px; max-width: 490px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="n822319917_1367978_2323" width="112" /></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes. I am a happy witness to the love story...</div><div><br />
</div>The Christ Stumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03032956107730166519noreply@blogger.com0