tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65953955554083210632024-03-13T15:15:17.316-07:00Fast Forward GirlClairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-32584362873584144802018-01-16T15:12:00.000-08:002018-01-16T15:12:05.201-08:00Story, So Far. <div style="color: #454545; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I used to feel like I didn’t have much of a story. I didn’t realize that the things I’d experienced in my life could add any value to the world around me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">But as I’ve grown, I’ve realized that we all carry profound wisdom from the things we’ve been through. And by simply becoming vulnerable and sharing our stories, we can change lives and bring encouragement to others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I grew up, hungry for a big life. I’m a first generation American daughter of a South African immigrant. And the stories my mom told of growing up in Africa instilled a thirst for adventure within me early on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I took for missionary school at 17. Halfway across the country with big dreams of changing the world. I met a boy there who wanted to change it too. We were starry eyed and so young. So we (logically) dropped out of school and got married. 18 years old, I walked down the aisle and said forever to the man I loved. At 19, I became a mama. By the time I was 25, we’d already had 4 kids (all preemies) and 1 angel babe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Changing the world got a little diluted somewhere in the mix. We were just trying to keep up with bills and diapers and teething and bubble baths and spaghetti dinners. All of our big dreams got lost in small realities. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">In 2010, somewhere between baby 1 and baby 2, we moved ourselves across the ocean to South Africa. We did some incredible work there with some of the most amazing young people we’ve ever known. But after what wasn’t long enough, our hand was forced and we flew back to the US feeling a lot like failures. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">That was the first (but not last) time I sat back and felt like I’d blown it. We’d tried so hard and fought for what we felt was right for us, and it all fell through our fingers like sand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">So we did life. Bryan worked so many jobs. Everything from delivery driving to retail sales to construction to remodeling and youth ministry. He did it all to pay the bills, and I carted around those 4 babies I’d had in 5 years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">That girl and boy that had gotten married so young were getting old faster than the calendar would suggest. One day I looked at Bryan and said... I think we are living defensively. Just reacting to everything thrown our way instead of attacking life with a sense of purpose. So we started seeking out intention. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Then in summer of 2015, it hit me. If money was the number one thing holding us back from living like the dreamers who married each other as kids, then why not seek out a solution. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I turned to network marketing. It was the one thing I knew you could make a lot of money doing, without any qualifications. It was perfect for me. So I jumped in. I realized quickly, that while no qualification was required, hard work certainly was. But i wasn’t afraid of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I put my head down. I remembered that great things are hardly ever conventional. I ran on pure excitement and grit. And within four months, I matched Bryan’s full time income. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">We retired him before Christmas. Five months into network marketing we went all in. All eggs in one basket, All our bills relying on this crazy dream. And it paid off in a big way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">By the next Spring, we were making six times our previous income. And we had freedom. Bryan was home. We were dreaming again. We were casting vision and hoping. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">That next spring, a full year later, we escalated to ten times our previous income. All from network marketing. Our heads were spinning and we were still so thankful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Then came the news that knocked the wind right out of us. Cancer. Somewhere in our finally perfect world, a screw was loose. And everything felt like it was about to just crash down on us. Stage 4 cancer. My handsome, lively, strong young husband was fighting for his life in a battle no one could see. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">These are the moments you find out what you’re truly made of. Are you actually strong? Or do you talk a big game? Do you actually know the meaning of trust? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">There were lots of days spent on my knees. Too many wracking sobs to recall. Days when we heard “I need to be honest with you. This isn’t good. This could kill you.” and days when we heard “You’ll be ok.” But they were never in a logical order. We grasped at something reliable, but it was all shifting pieces and spinning scenery. He laid in our bed for days. He couldn’t talk for more than a few minutes without losing his strength. He didn’t laugh for weeks. He lost his hair, his joy, his strength, and his optimism. These are the ugly parts pictures don’t show and social media doesn’t tell. I wondered if I’d already lost him. If he’d ever be the same man I married. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Six grueling months might not sound all that long to you. But I promise I can’t fit all my happy days within those 180 painful ones. They felt like they took everything. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Then right before Christmas, the same time we’d found financial freedom two years earlier, he was given a positive diagnosis. The cancer was no longer active. It had just gone to sleep. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">It was like someone picked up a two ton weight that had been crushing us. Picked it right up and took it so far away. And simply put, the world went back to spinning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Now we are different. We are so much stronger. And younger. Funny how something that should make you wiser makes you younger. Reminding you, you’re not always ready for life. Reminding you you have so much yet to learn. Reminding you you’re not untouchable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">As we move forward, we are daring to dream bigger. Because life is too fragile to play small. We have to get in the game for as long as we can—and feel victory firsthand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Cancer didn’t stop life for us. It started it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I’ll leave you here. Because the rest of this story is still being written....</span></div>
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-81060948124089239812017-07-27T09:16:00.001-07:002017-07-27T09:16:16.867-07:00<img src="webkit-fake-url://eae48cb2-9d9f-41da-a8f5-e689898219f1/imagepng" /><br />
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A couple of months ago I was rifling through the shelves of a bookstore when I saw it. The newest book from one of my favorite authors. I'd been thinking about ordering it for weeks. But it felt heavy. Like it was meant for another time or season. My life felt light. Happy. I'd had my heavy times already. My moments of brokenness. My loss. My grief. My rending of the heavens and wrenching of my soul. I wanted to read happy things. Shallow things. Words that felt easy and echoed my joy. This wasn't the book for my season.<br />
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In the checkout line, I couldn't stop thinking about it. "The Broken Way". Brokenness. Oh, I knew brokenness well. I'd walked many valleys and felt my spirit crushed before. But surely now wasn't the time for that. I had overcome. Loss was in my past. Images flashed in my mind: Leaving the mission field feeling like failures at the one thing we always thought we were made to do. Our son lying in that hospital, dependent on a machine to keep him alive. Me sobbing in the hospital room alone. My body ready to care for a baby that wasn't in my arms. Then one year later, losing our fourth child. Alone in my apartment with birth pangs for a baby I'd never know. The grief I had felt then and the grief that was still so near when I close my eyes.<br />
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➰Surely, the strength I'd gained from the things I've weathered was enough to carry me forever.<br />
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But life isn't balanced. The path to abundant life isn't paved with convenience. The stuff of grace is painful and messy and confusing. It's beating your chest and asking why and fighting until you surrender. But it's also being rebuilt. Piece by piece a mosaic masterpiece. And every tile tells a story only you fully understand.<br />
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I handed the book to the clerk. Secretly hoping I'd never again know a season where I felt the need to read about brokenness & suffering. It sat on my bookshelf, closed.<br />
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Until that day in the middle of June when my husband came through the door with tear stained eyes. He stood in our living room where our laughter and our dreams and our plans ring out and he said "They think it's cancer." And I held him and I cried and I wondered why would brokenness come again to our home after we've finally become so familiar with joy.<br />
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And I opened the book. Because there is a path to abundant life, and while it's not a pretty one, I know the end is worth the journey.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-17201233264963337012017-05-22T22:09:00.001-07:002017-05-22T22:09:41.004-07:00Coming Back Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been forever, hasn't it? But if the new look is any indication, hopefully it won't be quite as long before the next post.<br />
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I've missed blogging. Becoming a business owner has been incredible. And it's become "me" so quickly. I've naturally transitioned into this new role and I couldn't love it more. But--being true to myself begs me to continue writing. And for now, this is the best outlet for me to do that.<br />
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So here we go... again. Writing my heart out in this little corner of the web. Thinking on "paper" which has always helped me to process. I've thought time and again about changing the direction of this blog. Making it fashion focused, or satirical, or strictly inspirational/devotional. But, as I've said a million times, this blog has always been for me more than for anyone else. And if I'm being true to that, then I can't box it up. I've got to keep it unrestricted so it can follow my heart while my fingers simply plonk out the words.<br />
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I might be rusty, so grace would be appreciated.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-82462598379811129792016-11-12T15:23:00.001-08:002016-11-12T15:23:13.253-08:00I just did it...<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I’ve been taking a lot of writing projects lately. They’re good for me, you know. A task, a guideline, a direction to take. And I’ve enjoyed them all. They’ve grown me—honed my craft a bit. But there’s always something so much more pure about me, just sitting with a blank page and no rules. Just writing what’s in my head and on my heart. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I haven’t done enough of that lately. It’s probably why I’ve been in a funk. Sometimes I don’t know what’s in my own mind until I write it all out on paper and read it back to myself. I’ve always been that way. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">When you feel like you might be losing yourself in the thick of it all—in the routines, the schedules, the “have to’s” then make sure you take that time to go back to the thing that makes you, you. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Writing has always been that for me. Since I was a little girl. Funny, I have pages of scratchings from the time I could hold a pencil. I was an early talker. Early reader. Early writer. Had a lot of words in me, I guess you could say. And it’s no wonder, really, I’m from a family of writers. Every single one of us. We live for long, deep conversations and philosophical exercises. You could always find us on a Friday evening, in the living room, just talking it out. We weren’t afraid to disagree—we did understand the value in healthy debate. But it was intelligent. I had to work to keep up. They say that one of the most important things you can do for yourself is to be the least intelligent person in the room. I suppose I was set up for success then if that’s how we’re measuring it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I miss that. I miss the long conversations and the genuine asking of, “How are you?” while knowing that the one asking it truly cares to know the answer. We live in a world where we’re all clamoring to tell everyone how we feel, but none of us are fighting to ask it of anyone else. We want desperately to show our worth, but no one is readily offering to instill our value. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Anyways, I won’t talk your ear off tonight. I guess I just needed a few minutes to let my fingers put some tangibility to these thoughts. I’ve been meaning to blog again—but time keeps running away with me. Today I thought I’d do the one thing I know how to do when I’m not getting around to something. I just did it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Here’s to a weekend of taking my own advice, of remembering to make time for the things that make my time worthwhile. And for seeking out the greatest of conversations, and the people who make me feel valuable. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Until next time. </span></div>
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-4626813536327990552015-09-18T08:17:00.000-07:002015-09-18T08:17:47.290-07:00Courage and CliffsWhen I was in high school, I loved to go cliff jumping. My friends and I would spend entire summers exploring the natural pools and waterfalls of Vermont. We'd jump off of cliff after cliff, whistling and cheering for each other, laughing and surprising ourselves and one another with our own <i><b>bravery</b></i>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of the popular cliff jumping spots in Vermont.</td></tr>
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As I spent those summers getting lost in adventure, I learned a lot that would stick with me forever. I learned about risk, about bravery, about the power of motivation, about friendship, and maybe a little bit about stupidity too.<br />
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But I also learned one very important life lesson each and every single time I stood at the top of a cliff.<br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;">The longer you stand at the top looking down, the less likely you'll be to ever jump off.</b><br />
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The thing is, the human mind is both complex and simple. Our thoughts both influential, and simultaneously powerless. We can talk ourselves in or out of anything. The moment we stand up there, looking down is the moment that defines what will happen next. We can either think to ourselves about what might go wrong, or we can jump and enjoy the freedom of the fall. But getting lost in our thoughts and in entertaining doubt is what will stop us from ever knowing the difference.<br />
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There is a line in the movie "We Bought a Zoo" that comes to mind:<br />
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-size: large;"><i>“You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.”</i></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bravery doesn't have to be your defining character quality. You don't have to look like a knight in shining armor to have incredible courage. You really only need to muster up a few seconds of courage and you can accomplish greatness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the "taking the leap" that stops most of us. <i><b><span style="font-size: large;">It's the fear of your feet leaving the solid ground behind that keeps us from knowing what it feels like to fly. </span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">This past summer we vacationed as a family on the North Shore. There are beautiful cliffs there, tall and </span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">grandiose</span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">, hovering over welcoming deep water. It's been about 6 years since I've gone cliff jumping--explained by the fact that I've been either pregnant or nursing a new infant for the past 6 years straight. But this, this was my summer to jump off another cliff. This year for me has been all about bravery. It's been about taking risks, surprising myself, and welcoming new adventure. It was the perfect time to reconnect with an old adventure and to remind myself that I'm still capable of insane courage. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I stood at the top, and I hesitated. My feet shook and my heart pounded and I wondered where my carefree boldness had run off to.<br /><br />But I looked down at the shore, and I saw my children and I saw my husband cheering for me and I knew that I didn't have to muster the courage on my own. My mind didn't get to make this decision. My doubt didn't have a say. I have all the bravery I need to do anything in this life.<br /><br />My feet left the cliff. And in those moments that I fell through the air, I knew I was powerful. I was free. I was capable. I was brave. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">What cliff are you standing at the top of today? What is your doubt holding you back from in life? Stop standing at the top looking down. <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">You'll never get anywhere that way. </span></i></b></span></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;"><br /></b>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-24971883866802572672015-07-29T12:37:00.000-07:002015-07-29T12:37:11.850-07:002015 {The Year of Expedition} This post has been growing in my heart for months. But I sit here grateful to be sharing it now. No, the words you'll read here are not tied up with a red ribbon--concise, succinct and neatly ordered. But I'm thankful for what they represent.<br />
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It's July. Blue sky, warm sun, tall grass, full leaves, bare feet. It's a bit late in the year to be talking New Year's resolutions, but here we are.<br />
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This past January, as I do every year--I asked God for one word. One word that would predict my coming year. One word to be my motto, my credo, my vision. This year I heard that word so clearly, it stopped me where I stood: <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"Expedition"</b></i></span></div>
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It was during an icy walk down that dirt road. The sun was shining warmly that morning--but not warm enough to stop the Minnesota cold from tearing right through you. I warmed my hands, looked up at the sky, and heard him say, <i><b>"Beloved. This year I will expedite dreams and visions in your life that have laid dormant for years. I will call out what has remained silent and I will bring forth what has long been hidden from sight." </b></i><br />
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I walked home with a renewed sense of hope. An increased sense of wonder. I had no idea what things God would expedite, but I was ready and I was waiting to find out.<br />
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I didn't have to wait long for the first dream to come to pass.<br />
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The same day that I took that walk, I received an email from an editor of publishing company. It was a proposition for me to write 100 entries in a 365 day devotional. I would be published, just as I had dreamt for decades. I had begun preparing a folder of writing long ago that I wanted to submit to magazines, online journals and publishing companies. I had told myself that one day, someday, when the kids were older I would pursue my lifelong dream of writing. And one day I'd get a paycheck for it. This dream, that I believed wouldn't happen until I was far more advanced in years, once I had worked tirelessly to be heard, after an assumed pile of rejections letters, and was already in a very different life circumstance-- <i>that dream,</i> <i>the dream I was scared to speak out loud because it felt too big and too impossible, </i>fell into my lap on a January day when I was 25.<br />
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I was stunned. I sat down at my desk and I cried. I wept. And I prayed. I asked God to speak through me and touch the hearts of the women who months from now would read my words from a hardcover book in their own hands.<br />
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Tears rolled down my cheeks many times as I spent hours upon hours typing and backspacing and typing and reading my own words out loud again and again.<br />
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Receiving that paycheck was the most rewarding moment of my life. Knowing that I had been recognized, hired, and compensated based on my own deepest passion was unmatched--except perhaps by the feeling of holding that first printed copy in my hands and read MY words on the glossily printed pages.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>(if you would like to purchase your own copy of this devotional you can do so <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B011EZLQMK/ref=cm_sw_r_udp_awd_7CsUvbB5NG87H" target="_blank">HERE</a>! it is also available wherever books are sold, after August 1. I wrote the months of March, July and November) </i> </b></span><br />
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When that project was complete, I asked to contribute to yet another devotional which will be released in October. I'll share that link with you all when it comes out!<br /><br />Needless to say, expedition was happening.<br />
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Then in June, Bryan was offered a business opportunity that we couldn't refuse. When he got off the phone with his potential partner and explained the conversation to me, we looked at each other and knew, this was clearly God's hand in our lives.<br /><br />Throughout all of these fulfilled promises, another more subtle thing was happening. Both Bryan and I felt something we hadn't felt so strongly in five long years: <i><b>permission to dream again.</b></i><br />
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I don't want to paint a picture that's partially unseen. As you all know, it hasn't been completely smooth sailing this year. I rang in the New Year on January 1st in a hospital room. My baby girl was suffering with pneumonia in both lungs. The same baby girl I'd seen lying in the NICU only months earlier. Those same lungs that needed so much help in her first days of life again needed life-giving treatments. A few short months later, we went through testing for our daughter for Cystic Fibrosis and were sent home without answers--answers we still don't have. We sold our house when Bryan accepted this new business opportunity only to have the buyer back out 2 weeks prior to closing, leaving us with a lease on a town-home and a mortgage on a farmhouse. We've been stretched beyond what I thought we could ever endure. We had both vehicles break down within a week of each other. We've changed somewhere around 6 flat tires. Money has been extremely tight.<br />
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But what I want you to see from all of this--from<b> everything</b> I'm saying--is that God is faithful. </div>
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<i style="font-size: x-large;">Whether the sun is shining or the rain is pouring, whether your song comes easily or your tears pour freely, <b>he continues to be faithful</b>. </i></div>
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July has been a month of ups and downs. I woke up one morning last week and I felt desperate. Desperate enough to know I wanted to do something about it. So I took a risk. I know enough now to know that in order for God to continue to expedite things in my life I have to have a certain level of <b>bravery</b>. I have to step out of my comfortable boat onto uncertain waters. I can spend all my time in the boat wondering whether I'll sink or swim, or I can just take swing my legs over the side and <i><b>find out</b></i>.<br />
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I started my own business with the incredible company <a href="http://www.claireflores.itworks.com/">It Works! Global</a>. It Works is a Christian company that's been changing lives since it's conception. It's health and wellness products offer results that are nothing short of remarkable. For the past year and a half I've been following the story of a girl who was an independent distributor for It Works. I watched from the sidelines as she took her small family from a place of complete dependence on government assistance to a place of total freedom where both she and her husband are stay at home parents each making a six figure income. For a year and a half I played the skeptic role well. I saw her success, and of course, like anyone--I wished I had it. But I didn't think it was actually possible for me. But that one morning I was desperate enough to find out if taking a crazy risk would end in a crazy reward.<br />
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<b style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: large;">The possibility of success became more important to me than my fear of failure.</span></b> </div>
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I made the small investment--which, to be honest, was a big one for me. My team leader--that same girl who I'd been following from afar for so long, has spent the past few days pouring her heart and soul into helping me start this business off successfully. That initial investment came back to me in just two hours. I'm well on my way to helping my family move forward in an <b><i>EXPEDITED</i></b> fashion. God is continuing to remain true to his word that he will expedite my dreams and sustain me.<br />
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I don't only rejoice in the successes we've had thus far in 2015. I also rejoice for the hardships we've had--and are still having. Because through each and every experience I have learned, I have leaned and I have grown.<br />
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In 2013 we lost a baby. It was a wilderness for me. But oh, how I learned to lean on him there. 2014 was a year of humility on my face before the Lord and expectation of the day when he would raise me up again. 2015 has been the year that God has decided to stand me to my feet and to expedite the things in my life that I believed would take years to accomplish.<br />
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Nothing that has happened in my life this year, or in years past would have happened without God. He has never left me, he has never once stopped taking an interest in every part of my life. His is the name I whisper in the darkness when I've given up hope. His is the name I shout with a smile when I triumph and I succeed. His is the name in which I go forth in 2015. I am ready for whatever he wants to do in the second half of this crazy, beautiful, unexpected year of expedition.<br />
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<i>I talked in my last post about BRAVERY. (which, if you haven't entered that giveaway yet, it's not too late! <a href="http://fastforwardgirl.blogspot.com/2015/07/brave-distinctlyivy-giveaway.html">Head over and enter NOW</a>!) </i></div>
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-78409319578593985942015-07-27T06:00:00.000-07:002015-07-27T06:21:35.005-07:00Brave. {A DistinctlyIvy Giveaway} I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be brave.<br />
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Life has thrown some pretty tough things my way recently, and I've continually felt less than courageous in the face of their oppositions.<br />
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I've wondered if I really am "made of sterner stuff" or if I should just curl up in the fetal position and forget about trying to fight back.<br />
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But what if I were brave?<br />
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Bethel's song "You Make Me Brave" has been on repeat in my home lately.<br />
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<i>"You make me brave. </i></div>
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<i>You have called me out beyond the shore into the waves.</i></div>
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<i>You make me brave." </i></div>
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If those words are true--and if he's already called me out onto the waves, and I'm already walking on water in his grace, then I AM brave. </div>
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Because I need bravery.<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">I need to be brave enough to jump headfirst into my own life. </span>I need to fight back. I need to stand up and face my problems with strength and resolve, and a God right beside me who <b>strengthens</b> me and who <b>upholds</b> me and who <b>emboldens</b> me.</div>
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I am already brave. I just have to remember that I am. </div>
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What better way to remind myself of my own bravery, than by wearing something that daily reminds me that I am brave?</div>
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The incredible store Distinctly Ivy made this stunning, personalized necklace for me. I haven't taken it off since I received it in the mail. It's a poignant reminder for me to live bravely in my own life. Every single day.<br />
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Distinctly Ivy is an Etsy shop that creates stunning, hand-stamped, one of a kind pieces of jewelry. Each piece is uniquely created by their incredible artists and shipped out in one business day. They are committed to creating a piece that you will love and cherish.<br />
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Their shipping is FAST, FAST, FAST! If you need a last minute gift that will still be thoughtful, unique and treasured than Distinctly Ivy is absolutely the right place for you.<br />
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And these necklaces are not only beautiful, but they are well made! More than a few times my kiddos have tugged on the necklace and my sweet Mia has even pulled herself up by it! DistinctlyIvy does quality, beautiful work without compromise.<br />
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I'm so excited to tell you that DistinctlyIvy wants to GIVE ONE OF YOU one of their personalized necklaces! I'm so happy to be teaming up with them for this incredible giveaway. They have a huge selection, not limited to bar necklaces-- so head over to their site and browse the selections! Comment and let me know what your favorite item is for 5 entries!<br />
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And if you decide you want to go ahead and buy a piece from their store (you won't be sorry!) please enjoy a 15% discount through the end of the month with the code <span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">CHRISTMASinJULY </span><br />
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Best of luck! I hope you win :)<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="bbe575ce4" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bbe575ce4/" id="rcwidget_f5vk5aki" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-73169947391138497462015-07-13T09:50:00.000-07:002015-07-13T09:51:30.991-07:00Water isn't Concrete.God has been working with me on trust, waiting and patience. After nearly a year of not knowing what our next step in life would be, one whirlwind weekend determined our path and settled our minds. We accepted a great job opportunity, sold our house and packed our belongings over the course of one week. It was exciting and relieving after a season of dancing through trust and fear with the Lord. But days after we unloaded our belongings in a new rented town home, the sale of our house fell through. It felt like a punch in the gut. Feels like a punch in the gut--if I'm being honest.<br />
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<a href="http://allchristiannews.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/walking-on-water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://allchristiannews.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/walking-on-water.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a>But something that was spoken to me about a month ago keeps coming to mind. My friend and I asked an older lady in our church if trusting God and having His peace ever gets easier the longer you've been serving Him. This was her response: <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"When God calls you out of the boat, to walk on the water with Him--you can't expect to step out on to solid ground. Water will never be concrete."</span></i></b> Her words resonated in my very core. Why do I expect to step out in <i>faith</i> onto concrete? Why am I surprised at the raging waves that at any moment could sweep me under? The circumstances in life are never going to be a sure thing. Our plans are never going to go off without a hitch. After all, we're trying to walk on water. But if we keep our eyes focused on His, we can walk across even the most tempestuous waters, as if they were simply solid ground beneath us.<br />
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I'm not sure how, or when our circumstances will smooth out for us. But I know one thing's for sure. I'm walking on water. And the going is rough sometimes. And I'll get nervous and I'll look down and I'll begin to sink--but I have the best lifeline I could possibly have. I have a God that is unchanging, that is faithful, that's got it. It's not going to be easy. It's not going to be comfortable. But it's going to be worth it. And that's reason enough for me to get out of the boat.<br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-45384462053013413322015-05-30T19:22:00.003-07:002015-05-30T19:22:47.709-07:00Two Years It's not easy to write from the most painful places within yourself. But when you feel deeply about something--enough to want to put pen to paper--you write anyway. You write through the pain, and through the difficulty of it all.<br />
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Our precious glory baby would be two.<br />
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For two years we've missed having her in our lives. Missed rocking her to sleep, missed kissing her little nose, missed knowing her sweet spirit.<br />
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Many days I don't think of her. It may sound strange, but that's the way of grief as it weaves into one's life. Her memory is always there, just beneath the surface. But the thought of her is readily brought forth with any trigger. Her due date on the calendar. Every Thanksgiving-time... the season we lost her. Each time my six year old tells a stranger she has four siblings; three here with her and one "up heaven".<br />
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I cannot live my life without commemorating hers. Such a brief time in my womb, such an impact on my soul.<br />
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I can remember laying in bed a few nights before I lost her. I was cradling my womb and singing her a lullaby. Her only lullaby. I knew in my spirit something was wrong. I somehow knew I'd never hold her my arms, never rock her as I sang this same sweet song. But oh, how I treasured that moment. Knowing that no matter what the future held, she was there inside of me--alive and well.<br />
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Two weeks before our loss, Peyton had a dream. "I saw Jesus, Mommy." I asked her what he looked like. "He was lovely, Mommy. And he was holding a little lamb. Our little lamb." I closed my eyes and prayed, <i>No God, please. Please, don't take my baby. </i>But the same dream that brought me fear also brought me peace. He would hold her. The baby I could never hold.<br />
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Two years without my glory baby. Two years that she has danced with Jesus and been sung lullabies by the angels. Two years that she's been waiting for me to come home where she can hold me and wipe my tears and heal my heart.<br />
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Someday soon, my baby.<br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-75648553942280082382014-04-01T13:52:00.001-07:002014-04-01T13:52:48.023-07:00SpringHere in Minnesota, spring has been teasing us--playing a little game of catch and release. We've had a couple of balmy, sunny days that have awakened our senses to the freshness of spring air and promised us the hope of an end to winter. But then we've fallen into bed after hours full of mud puddle parades and happy laughter, only to wake again to a white blanket covering our mud pies and lawn chairs. It's a dance the seasons do every year, but for some reason that doesn't make it easier to wait out.<br />
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Yesterday was one of the sunny days. I got my kids up from their naps and we marched our selves out the door. I set up a chair, grabbed a book and relaxed while my kids joyfully played around me. It's funny, something about the end of winter puts life right back in your veins. Don't get me wrong, there is magic in the winter season. I love the first snowfall, or even a nice big blizzard: you know the kind where you huddle up in doors under a warm wool blanket with a cup of cocoa and your loved ones. But something about the winter grows long up here. Something about having to hide out within four walls that makes you feel trapped and overwhelmed.<br />
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That's why yesterday when the sun was shining, I felt so renewed. That's what the word spring means, by the way. Renewal. As I sat in that chair and looked up at the sky I was awestruck by the beauty I saw. There was a moment where the sun disappeared behind the most billowy clouds. And as the sun was hidden from view, I saw those gilded clouds speeding past. They were teasing me with the strands of the great light they were hiding. Then when at last the sun re-emerged, it burst forward almost animately. I felt it's warmth rush over me. If I was a photographer, I definitely would have captured that moment with my lens. In fact, I wish I was, because it was a beautiful sight. But, since I am a writer I do my best to capture it with my words.<br />
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There was something in that moment that reminded me of the process we go through every year with this inevitable transition from winter to spring. It's impactful, as evidenced by the hundreds of statuses on Facebook, the tweets and the blog posts about the seasons change. There are winters in our lives. I realize that's not an original idea-- I know that it's been said and I'm not attempting to present it as a unique impression. But our lives have winters, don't they? Seasons where we feel cold. We feel hidden. We feel trapped. We feel buried under the proverbial snow of circumstance. In those seasons, the clouds around us almost entirely hide the sun. We look up and all we see is darkness and we feel is cold and the absence of clarity, warmth and light. But if we looked closer, perhaps we could see the rushing of those clouds. Perhaps we would notice the gilded outlines that promise there is hope just past their edges. And though winter can be long, and the cold can cut deeply, that moment when the sun reappears... it's a moment that bowls you right over. It releases you in a blinding instant and as it's warmth covers you and its hope engulfs you, there is no doubt that cloud is gone.<br />
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Spring is teasing us. And maybe it'll arrive for good very soon, or maybe it won't. But the moments when the sun breaks out from the clouds have to be enough to give us hope. To keep us going. And to remind us, that behind every cloud, the sun is shining; that for every winter, there is a spring.<br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-72515396641950287772014-03-25T17:42:00.001-07:002014-03-25T17:43:17.156-07:00He Sustains Me<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; letter-spacing: 0px;">“I lay down and slept. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I awoke, for the Lord sustains me.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0px;">-Psalm 3:5</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have loved this verse since I was a little girl. The words of the verse brought me so much comfort and peace in the night when I would get fearful. This verse speaks volumes to me about the grace of God: the protection and safety of His hand. But the verse says more than just peace and comfort—it speaks to the POWER of God. We only wake up because of the sustaining power of God. If God didn’t want me to wake up tomorrow morning, I wouldn’t. He is that powerful. When I trust and believe in this same God who possesses the power of life and death, what do I have to fear? My entire life is in His hands. I can’t change that fact. I might as well rest in it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This past month has been a difficult one for our family. I am 27 weeks pregnant with our daughter, Mia Brielle. At the end of February we found out that Mia has a marker for several chromosomal disorders. We were tested for a variety of abnormalities including Down Syndrome, Trisomy 13 & 18, Cystic Fibrosis and various viral exposures. When the doctor looked at me and listed the possibilities for our daughter, something inside me screamed. Could this be reality? Could we be starting a journey into a life changing diagnosis? Could my child have a life altering disease? I excused myself to the bathroom, and breathed deeply, fighting tears. A million images crossed my mind. Children I’d met with Down Syndrome. Stories I’d heard of precious babies being lost only hours or days after birth to Trisomy 13 or 18. I wracked my brain to think of what Cystic Fibrosis even was. I clutched my womb and I wept. I wept for the possibilities for my daughter. Over the next few weeks, I had so much blood drawn that my right arm was visibly covered in needle marks. We endured test after test, a re-test, and weeks of waiting by the phone. Mia tested negative for viral exposure, for Down Syndrome and for both Trisomy disorders. We thanked the Lord as we passed each mark. Then we got a phone call informing us that I am a carrier for Cystic Fibrosis. It felt like a jump in the <i>wrong </i>direction. I wept and I worried over this news. I researched Cystic Fibrosis. I felt powerless at the words I was reading on the screen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0px;">Then one day I decided to stop. To stop worrying. To stop researching. To stop questioning. I decided to feel peace. I remember sitting alone in my living room one evening. The house was dark and there was just me and Mia. She was rolling around in my belly, kicking and thumping against my body. I was listening to worship music and the most amazing song came on: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><u>Christ the Rock</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><u>by Kim Walker-Smith</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>On Christ the solid rock I stand.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>No double minded shifting sands.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>On Christ the rock I plant my feet</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>A firm foundation for me.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Leaving behind the fear of man</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>With Christ the truth I will agree</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>On Christ the rock I lay my dreams</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Come with your fire consuming me</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>With Christ the rock I make my plans</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Partner with your purposes</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And it hit me then. There in the darkness, the final bars of that song still streaming over my speakers. In that moment I realized with such blessed release that Christ would take care of my Mia. No matter what her portion in this life—no matter what her story will be—God is her rock. He sustains her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I remembered that verse from my childhood. The one that I used to whisper into the dark night in my room from where I rested my head on my blue daisy pillow case. “I lay down to sleep… I wake up again because the Lord sustains me.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The same God who sustains me, is sustaining my little girl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One of my best friends said to me, when she found out about the tests we were undergoing for Mia… she said, “Claire, Mia didn’t come into existence because you and Bryan made love. Mia came into existence because God wanted her to be. He just happened to use you and Bryan to make her.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mia’s name means, “MINE”. But that’s just it, isn’t it? She’s NOT mine. She’s HIS. Beautifully and perfectly created and crafted by His own hand. With His own love. She is HIS. And He holds her in His hands. HE SUSTAINS HER.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Today we had another appointment with a specialist for Mia. We are waiting on more test results that will tell us whether or not my husband is a carrier for Cystic Fibrosis also. The marker that was there before is still there, though not as drastic. She is growing, she is healthy. There are still unknowns about her health… unknowns that may not become known even until months after her birth. We can only trust. We can only believe that when we close our eyes to sleep, we will once again wake up. We can only rest our souls, our minds, and our bodies in the hands of Him who has the power to sustain us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can’t sustain my daughter. Though she lives inside of me, I don’t control her formation. All I can do is trust the one that <i>is</i> forming her. </span></div>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-66010262911186671662014-03-05T07:36:00.000-08:002014-03-05T07:36:41.120-08:00Making Today a Memory.I stumbled on my old collection of home videos earlier this week. As I relived days gone by through the shaky lens of my phone camera, memories came flooding back. Funny how, even though my eldest is only four and a half, there are already days of parenting that are so far behind me I'll never go back to them. As I laughed at my oldest daughter at 20 months, making funny faces into the camera... and as I was impressed by my second daughter reciting flashcards at 15 months, I longed to go back. But I can't. That's life after all. You live each moment, and then it's gone. Just like that.<br />
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I'm a busy mom. I have piles of laundry and dishes, lists of appointments and reminders. There are toys to pick up, toilets to clean and hours worth of to do's. But what if today I let the piles grow? What if, for today, I left toys on the floor? What if we made peanut butter and jelly for dinner, ripped up the to do list and turned up our noses at the mess? What if instead we had a dance party in the living room--dressed in our twirliest dresses? What if instead we rolled around in the fresh snow until our noses turn red and we race inside for hot chocolate? What if instead of cleaning up my sons legos I build the biggest tower ever with him? What if instead of looking back on moments gone, I lived in moments now?<br />
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What if I made today with my kids, the best memory of them all?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Do not look back and grieve over the past, for it is gone; </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and do not be troubled about the future, for it has yet to come. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Live in the present, and make it so beautiful that it will </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3420901.Ida_Scott_Taylor" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Ida Scott Taylor</a></span></div>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-53653484579899526292014-01-10T04:56:00.002-08:002017-07-20T11:23:51.380-07:00Writing--It's what I LIKE to do.<span style="font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Every time I move I, of course, meet new people. And while every new person is different, there are some things about meeting new people that are basically the same wherever you go. The main thing that I find to be the same about almost every new person I meet, is the questions that they ask: </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Where are you from?"</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Why did you move here?"</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What do you do?" </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It's that last question. "What do you do?" I always have to think about how I’m going to answer this one. Of course, the quick answer is that I’m a stay at home mom to three (soon to be four) children. But recently I’ve been getting the question, “Yes, but what do you <i>like</i> to do?” And truthfully, while there are many things that I enjoy doing, I think the one thing that I really <i>like </i>to do that stands out to me is writing. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have loved writing since I was a little girl. I used to write poems, songs and stories when I was growing up. I loved using my imagination to create beautiful expressions through words. As I grew, I learned to love writing essays, book reports, journal entries and more poetry.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was homeschooled in a family of writers. Every single person in my family is a talented, inspired writer. Therefore, for every thing I wrote, I had four editors ready to listen, encourage, and also make their corrections. As I reached high school, it became evident that while my writing talent was budding, my grammar skills were lacking. I struggled with basic rules of grammar and often made grammatical errors as a result. The beauty of being homeschooled, though is that I was able to take a couple of weeks to focus on strengthening my grammar. My sister, who is excellent at English, took me to “grammar bootcamp”. I can remember sitting in her room for hours at a time with flashcards of different grammar rules. She quizzed me, tested me and drilled me until my grammar was [almost] as good as hers.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As I’ve grown, I believe that my grammar has suffered again. The truth is that in this age of blogging and online articles, much of what we now read has not gone through any sort of rigorous editing process. Without reading edited material, and without having proper grammar “in our faces” so to speak, we are losing the basic rules of grammar to someone’s quickly typed and posted work. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Also, writing is an art form. You wouldn’t steal someone’s art to call it your own, would you? You wouldn’t use someone’s photography on your blog and pass it off as your own image. You wouldn’t hang someone’s painting on your wall and tell all your friends that it’s your original work. You wouldn’t play someone a pre-recorded song and tell people that you sang it. But would you share a quote as your Facebook status without crediting the author? Would you copy and paste a paragraph from an informational site to your own blog post?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I was very excited to receive an email </span>about<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> a partnership from the company </span>Grammarly<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">. Grammarly is a website dedicated to finding mistakes and detecting </span>plagiarism in your writing. Grammarly is your own family of editors, right at your finger tips. Grammarly is an avenue to have authentic, grammatically correct writing in an age of articles without editors. Grammarly is a way to ensure that everything you are saying is entirely original, so you can ensure that you are not stealing anyone else's work.<br />
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We all communicate on a daily basis through our own written words. Learning good grammar is essential to making yourself heard, understood, and credible. My advice for improving your grammar would be to switch off the screen for a little bit and crack open a good, old fashioned book. You know, the kind that's been proofread and edited and revised. Go over your basic grammar rules from middle school. Remember them, practice them, and use them. And use Grammarly the next time you post something online.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*This is a promotional post for the company Grammarly. I was reimbursed for my inclusion of Grammarly in my post. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All opinions and endorsements for Grammarly are my honest assessment and original work.</i></span></div>
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-69405439827461766122014-01-06T00:50:00.001-08:002014-01-06T00:50:18.865-08:00I'm Changing My One Word.This feels a little "illegal", I won't lie to you. But as I've been praying this past week of 2014, I've been feeling something impressed on my heart over and over. And it's not discipline.<br />
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As I've been worshiping and praying and just being with the Lord, I feel like He has been showing me something that He wants to work on with me throughout this coming year. Yes, I could definitely stand to gain some discipline in my life--and changing my one word doesn't mean that I won't strive for more discipline this year. BUT. There is something pressing on my heart that I believe is more the heart of what God wants me to FOCUS on this year. And that thing is "humility".<br />
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This is vulnerability, right here. But often, doesn't the most substantial and ultimately wonderful changes in our lives come from moments of vulnerability? I suppose this could be my first step towards growing in humility this year. By setting down the more surface level one word I had chosen and choosing to embrace the difficult one.<br />
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I struggle with humility in my relationships. I really struggle with the ability to apologize. To humble myself and admit that I was the one that was wrong. I have 2 people in my life that are teaching me humility in relationships on a daily basis: my husband and my daughter. Bryan and Peyton are two people in my life that are very good at humbling themselves and admitting when they've been wrong. They apologize and it's very important to both of them to find resolution for arguments and to move forward with a clean slate. It's been humbling for me because I am more one who wants to pretend it never happened rather than to face the facts head on that perhaps I made some mistakes in the conflict. It's my own pride. My own lack of humility.<br />
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I feel an urgency to grow in humility particularly as a parent. The ability to humble myself to my own children and let them know when I've been wrong, I believe can be a great source of freedom and oneness in a parent/child relationship. That humility brings oneness and that oneness brings closeness.<br />
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I know that by seeking to grow this year in humility in my relationships, that it will benefit my marriage, my parenting, my family, and really anyone in relationship with me. Of course, it won't be an easy pill to swallow. I'm sure it's going to be a difficult year of struggling with my own pride and in having to lay myself down in areas that are really uncomfortable. BUT I am looking forward to reaping the rewards of humility in my life and my relationships.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"But God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble." </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">-Proverbs 3:34</span></i></div>
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-14204485617380918342013-12-29T15:38:00.000-08:002013-12-29T15:38:21.043-08:00One Word - 2014Can you believe another year is already over?<br />
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I know it's been a while since I've posted, and I do have quite a few things to write about, so you can expect a few posts coming in the next few weeks as we kick off the new year. But there was one thing I needed to come on here and write about before the end of 2013.<br />
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I am looking ahead to 2014 and all that God will do in my life this coming year. It's time again for my One Word.<br />
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My one word for 2013 was "LEAN". I was beginning the new year in the wake of a miscarriage, and everything in my life felt overwhelming. I felt that I needed the Lord in ways I never before imagined. I longed for His presence; I longed for His truth.<br />
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The song that got me through that time was by Laura Hackett, "You brought me to the wilderness when I will learn to sing. You let me know my barrenness so I will learn to lean."<br />
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I really did learn to lean on God in a whole new way in 2013. My husband and I stepped out and said yes to God on something that we had so many questions about. I went through trials and testings that I wasn't necessarily prepared for, but through it all, I learned to lean wholly on the Lord. His affirmation and His peace were my lifelines through difficulties. I leaned on Him. And He gave grace, love, teaching and truth.<br />
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This year I'm in a much different place. Time has strengthened me and a lot of healing has happened. We are settled in a new home, a new place with a new ministry. I feel as though this year I am walking into uncharted territory in my parenting. We will be welcoming another child this year (more on that later, I promise!) and we will be walking full fledge into homeschooling 2 children. I am learning to grow in my position as a wife and a homemaker and, as I find myself spinning many plates, I am learning to balance and to juggle.<br />
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All of that said: my one word for 2014 is "DISCIPLINE"<br />
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This year I want to become a better manager of my home. I want to gain discipline in all areas so that I can create space and time to pursue the things I enjoy, and the things that will bring my family joy. I want to slow down. I don't want to rush around, I want to slow down. And in order to do that, I need to grow in discipline. To make time for the important things, and to lose time for the unimportant. I want to gain the discipline to say no to the things that are unproductive and to say yes to the things that further my missions and my goals as a homemaker. </div>
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So there you have it. Perhaps a little undramatic, but it truly is something I want to build into my life this year.</div>
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Thank you to all my faithful readers who stick with me even through the waxes and wanes of my posting. Hopefully through a more disciplined timeline, I will be writing on here much more often :) Look forward to a few posts with some new from me as the year begins! </div>
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Happy New Year everyone!</div>
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-5410400529312830532013-10-23T05:56:00.000-07:002013-10-23T05:56:12.928-07:00Finding Yourself in MotherhoodIf you're a mom, the title of this post isn't a foreign idea to you. It's no secret that mother's of young children have a difficult time not losing themselves in the daily grind of diaper changes, burp rags, toilet training and laundry loads.<br />
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But in the throes of motherhood, how do you keep from losing yourself? How do you remind yourself of the things that make you, YOU?<br />
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I remember a significant moment shortly after I had my second child. After Britany was born, I struggled in a way I hadn't yet as a mother. I was the new mother of 2 under 2. I was literally on survival mode. Rather than living to the fullest with my toddler and infant, I was simply doing just what I could to keep everyone alive. I hadn't really told anyone about my private struggle with the demands of my new life. Not even my husband knew how difficult of a time I was having. When I look back on that time, I can describe it as like being in the middle of the ocean treading water...barely able to keep my head above. I guess you could say I had a classic case of post partum depression, although at the time I wouldn't have so logically labeled it. I felt like I was drowning in my own life, and while I was just barely getting by as a mother, I certainly didn't have the time or energy to focus on being anything other than that. One particular day, when our new daughter was probably less than 2 months old, we had a big snowfall in Vermont. My husband went outside to shovel the back deck, and I stayed in with the girls. After about 15 minutes, my husband came in and asked if I'd like to finish the shoveling--if only to get out for a bit. I reluctantly agreed and grabbed my coat and gloves and started shoveling. After I finished the deck, it was almost dusk. There was a gray fog that had settled and snow started falling. Cold, blustery snow. The kind that sticks. The snow kept coming until it you could barely see for 100 feet in front of you. I walked off the deck and into the woods behind our house. And I stood there. In the quiet. With the quiet, calm, cold snow falling around me. All I could hear was the wind and all I could see was snow and trees. I stood there for minutes. Just letting time pass and just being silent. Just being me. Memories flashed of countless snow storms of my childhood. Playing outside in the snow, letting it's clean blanket restore the earth in newness. It was restoring me in those moments. I closed my eyes and let the cold flakes fall and the wind blow and silence sweep over me.<br />
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I don't remember the exact details, of course, but I'm sure that as I went back into that house, the crying started, the housework reappeared and the responsibilities of a mother of two small children resumed. But the work those moments had done in my heart remained. A moment to breathe. A chance to reflect. An opportunity to be myself for even a second--without demands, without servitude.<br />
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Mothers, I know it's not easy to get away. I know it's not easy to take that time for yourself without feeling guilty or frustrated with your own need for a minute alone. But make that time. Step outside away from the noise and the rush. Don't just sit on the couch for a few minutes and call it good. Actually get outside the four walls of your home. Clear your head. Don't fill it with more chaos and stress from facebook feeds or a dramatic TV show. Get outside. Feel the air. Breathe the air. Get alone, get silent and clear the clutter of your own mind and heart. Pray. Think. Just breathe. Whatever difficulty you are facing as a mom today, it will pass. But it may pass easier if you take a few minutes to let the wind blow your stresses away from you. Even just for a minute.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-90706867740363626782013-10-19T21:45:00.000-07:002013-10-19T21:45:21.233-07:00On Transitioning with Little Ones--How to Move Your Family WellMy eldest daughter has moved 11 times in her 4 years of life. My youngest two have each moved 6 times. Needless to say, we've had to learn over the years how to do transition with young children in tow. Moving was difficult enough when it was just my husband and I, but when we started adding children, moving became a whole other ball game.<br />
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In the past 2 weeks, I've had several friends separately approach me to ask for tips on how to move well with little ones. I compiled a list for one friend, and thought I would go ahead and share it with all of you. This is an area where I'd be more than happy to let my loads of crazy experience be to your benefit!<br />
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Hope you find this helpful!<br />
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<b>Moving Advice <i>(from an experienced moving mom) </i>to Mothers </b></div>
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-Don't feel like you have to pack room by room. Pack in order of what gets used least to most often. For example, even a month(s) before you move you could pack up pictures off the walls. Especially pack up the things that take time such as fragile decor items that you'll need to wrap carefully in paper (label those small items also!!! believe me when you have 20 frames wrapped in paper and you really just want to hang one specific frame, you won't want to unwrap them all to find the one.) </div>
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-Small tip--wrap your light bulbs in socks that are missing a partner. Keeps them really tight and secure so they won't break! And neat and tidy. Take the time to wrap your breakables. It's time consuming, but it's better than getting to your new home and finding a favorite item is broken from rough movers or the rough ride in the moving truck.</div>
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-Go label crazy!!! Label absolutely everything. Nothing is worse than moving into your new home and needing a measuring cup for a recipe and having no idea which box it's in because your kitchen boxes are only labeled "KITCHEN". Write detailed lists on the boxes of what is inside. If it's a "random" box, make sure to highlight what is in that random box. </div>
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-Try to avoid the last minute "throw it all in" box. Instead, save out a small box for each room or area that can take last minute items. That way you won't be overwhelmed by a last minute box that's got a kids socks, someone's toothbrush, the salt, a dog chew toy and a handheld vacuum cleaner all together. When you're unpacking it's overwhelming enough!! </div>
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-Buy paper plates/bowls/cups/utensils for your last days in your old home. You will want to take your time packing dishes and glasses, so use paper for a week or so. This way you won't be messing with washing dishes and guessing on when you should pack what plates/bowls. Treat it almost like camping your last week. </div>
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-Keep a method to madness. When you move in, be sure to have your boxes stacked neatly rather than all over the floor or in a door way. The reality is that you'll have boxes remaining unpacked for months after your move and to have them arranged neatly in your new home is one main way that you'll stay calm in your chaos. </div>
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-Pack a separate bag with bed linens and pajamas for every member of your family labeled and sorted. Include any nighttime routine items (toothbrushes, face wash, vitamins, etc.). Keep this bag SACRED and always know where it is!!! This way when you're exhausted your first night you won't have to go searching for bed linens to put the kids to bed (or to fall into bed yourself!)</div>
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-When your movers (professional or just your friends!!) take things out of the truck, you'll want them to walk things right to the rooms they belong in to save you having to move it later. So label every box with the room it's going to. Also, try to think out in your mind where all your furniture will be going in your new home so you have a clear direction to give to the movers when they ask you where you want things. They'll all be sweaty and asking for a quick response and you'll feel put on the spot (haha talking from experience!) So have a clear plan already formed.</div>
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-Plan to order take out your first day in your new home. You won't want to dig out the items to cook, and it will be a fun reward for you all. (and a fun memory!)</div>
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-Once you tackle the unpacking process, try to focus in one room at a time. For survival, you might have to take on the kitchen first, but once those essentials are out…. first tackle the living room. Get it completely unpacked and ready to LIVE IN. Make it HOME right away. So hang up pictures. Hang curtains. Put out the throw pillows. Don't worry that the bedroom is wall to wall boxes--you'll want one place to relax. When you're done unpacking for the day you'll want to put your feet up in a place that feels like home. Also when people come to see your new home and you haven't had time to move everything in, at least you'll have a room to entertain where you and they can both relax and enjoy your home.</div>
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-In general, get right in to the details of decorating. Nothing will make you feel at home faster than having those small details. Put out a family picture even if there are still boxes all over. Taking that time will help you remember that you're making a home and that it will look like a home one day soon, even if that day isn't today.</div>
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-With kids in transition, one of the biggest things that I've found can help them along is keeping their small surroundings "normal". For example make sure their bed is laid out with familiar sheets the first night. Don't use a (for example) a living room blanket that they're not used to sleeping on. Make sure you've left out their familiar sheets and comforter so they feel "safe" and "normal" when it comes to bedtime in a new place. Also of course, don't forget to keep the favorite stuffed animals out :) </div>
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-Make a big deal out of your fun new home to the kids! Make it a really exciting event! Talk it up to them and tell them about the wonderful times you'll have there as a family. But give them the honor of saying goodbye to their old home. Maybe writing a note to the new owners might help them get closure (something that helped me when I moved at age 8 and again at age 13)</div>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-62585252594413583732013-08-27T06:00:00.000-07:002013-08-30T12:39:28.545-07:00One Thousand Gifts {GIVEAWAY}If you read my <a href="http://fastforwardgirl.blogspot.com/2013/08/thanks-one-thousand-gifts.html">last post</a> then you know that I am currently reading <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-Gifts-Fully-Right/dp/0310321913/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377573725&sr=8-1&keywords=one+thousand+gifts">One Thousand Gifts</a></i> by <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">Ann Voskamp</a>.<br />
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And you also know that it's changing my life.<br />
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<i>One Thousand Gifts</i> is a book about thanksgiving. It's about writing down the gifts that God has given us--no matter how small or seemingly mundane. It's about taking each slipping moment and consecrating it. Ann encourages her readers to begin keeping a journal where they write one thousand gifts. As I've been writing this list myself, I've found beauty in the most normal instances. I've found beauty in a little girl chasing a butterfly. In the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet. In the smell of a stone cellar reminding me of my girlhood. <b>To consecrate the moments is to consecrate the life. </b>And to walk in thanksgiving is<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%20100&version=NIV"> to walk right into His presence.</a> Thanksgiving has this way of taking our hearts and righting them. Thanksgiving puts things in perspective. Thanksgiving restores triumph to the defeated soul.<br />
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This book has helped me to recognize my need to be so much more thankful to God for the gifts in my life. This book has re-opened my eyes to a wonder that I somehow lost since childhood. The art of finding the splendor of each moment.<br />
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Shortly after I wrote my last post, Ann's publicist contacted me asking if I would be interested in giving away <i>One Thousand Gifts</i> to one of my readers! I am so excited for the opportunity to share this incredible book with one of you. Please, enter away... and share, share, share this giveaway with others!<br />
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<a id="rc-bbe5752" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bbe5752/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-12609041802353015362013-08-20T19:36:00.003-07:002013-08-20T19:36:58.667-07:00Thanks. (One Thousand Gifts) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am reading<a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-Gifts-Fully-Right/dp/0310321913/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377051279&sr=8-1&keywords=one+thousand+gifts"> this book</a> right now. It is wrecking me. <i>Wrecking me.</i> While I read it, I can't speak. I can't move. I'm riveted by <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">Ann Voskamp's</a> beautiful writing style, by the words that leap from the pages into my soul, and by the raw honest holiness that breathes life into the words that I read on its pages. The speed reader I typically am is demolished by abated breath and hungry eyes and heart that eat up this book and taste it slowly.<br />
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I knew going into this, that if I read this book, I would be challenged to write down "one thousand gifts".... 1,000 things that I am thankful for. I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had no idea that, as Ann talks about in the book, that this process would become more than a project-- it would effect a lifestyle. I had no idea that thankfulness would envelope my heart through this simple act of writing down the moments. I had no idea that I would walk around my own life, <i>searching</i> for things to thank my God for. I had no idea that it would create an atmosphere of holiness in the mundane.<br />
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<i>1. Patches of golden sunlight on a crisp, cool day.</i></div>
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<i>3. A husband admiring his wife from a far.</i></div>
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<i>5. Good friends who stand the tests of time and space.</i></div>
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<i>15. Undeserved grace.</i></div>
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With each moment of paused reflection, each thank-filled statement I am set free. Set free from the pessimistic flip side. Set free from dark thoughts of death, of pain, of suffering, of ugliness. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I am entering HIS gates with thanksgiving.</i> I am walking His right path to enter His holy place. I am walking through the door He created. </div>
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Favorite Excerpts: </div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"I watch the hands move grace on the clock face. I'm growing older. These children growing up. But time is not running out. This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there's this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity."</span><span class="userContentSecondary fcg" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit;"><i>"Time is a relentless river. It rages on, a respecter of no one. And this, this is the only way to slow time: When I fully enter time's swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of me all here. I can slow the torrent by being all here. I only live the full life when I live fully in the moment."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't say enough good about this book. And I'm only halfway done. What it has done to my soul, to my lifestyle, to my heart is pure goodness. I am reveling in the presence of my God in a new way. A way full of thankfulness<a href="http://biblehub.com/psalms/100-4.htm"> which are the gates to His tabernacle. </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">I wholeheartedly encourage you to pick up Ann's book. And even if you can't right now for whatever reason, pull out a journal, or some paper and begin writing down one thousand gifts. ONE THOUSAND seemingly insignificant things that you are thankful for. One thousand things that God has given you. Each infinitesimal one <i>will change your life</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*I was not paid or compensated in any way to review Ann Voskamp's book, <i>One Thousand Gifts.</i> I reviewed this book of my own decision and all words and ideas (except for those obviously quoted) are my own.</span></span></div>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-15646268949066793302013-07-28T18:42:00.001-07:002013-07-28T18:42:27.974-07:00The Disqualified Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is something that's been weighing on my heart lately... and to be honest I've been hesitant to write about it because I haven't been sure if many of my readers would understand, or would want to read about it. But the reality is that I always told myself I would be honest on this blog about what I'm thinking and feeling. I've always said this blog was more for the writing than it is for the reading.<br />
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So here goes.<br />
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It has been 8 months since my miscarriage. I should be over it, right? At least that's what so many people tell me (or at least suggest to me in not so many words.) I never understood the pain of miscarriage until I went through one myself. And the biggest surprise of them all, when I went through my miscarriage, was the lack of empathy.<br />
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Hear me out. Yes, there were many, many people who were there for me. There were listening ears and flowers and cards and homemade meals brought to my door. There were people who loved, cared and understood. But there were so many people who disqualified my grief. Let me explain. I had many conversations about my miscarriage that went something like this:<br />
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"Sorry about your loss." </div>
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"Thank you.</div>
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"How far along were you?"</div>
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"10 weeks."</div>
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"Oh so still very early. The baby must have been very small. You didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl, right?" </div>
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And whether they meant it this way or not, there it was. Instant disqualification. As if the life of my baby was truly nothing to grieve over. I mean, my goodness, how could I grieve? I didn't even know the sex.</div>
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Here's the biggest thing that disturbs me about this attitude that I have seen so much of since losing my child: If we consider ourselves "pro-lifers" than we've got to take a second look at this issue. If we stand on the sidewalks with posters, or re-post that Facebook meme about a life being a life no matter how small, than we've got to take a drastic second look at our own hearts on the matter of miscarriage. If the life of an aborted baby is "atrocious" and "murder" and "grievous", then why is the baby who is miscarried not worthy of so much more grief and attention and HONOR? We expect women to sweep it under the carpet. Don't announce your pregnancy until after your first trimester, because well goodness, what if you lose it? Much better to sweep the loss under the carpet where it won't upset anyone. Right? </div>
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I have FOUR children. Not three. I have FOUR. But I say three because it gets real uncomfortable when I bring my loss to the table. I say three because I don't want to hear the disqualification of my fourth child. I don't want to hear people dishonor her by saying "she doesn't really count" whether they use that plain of English to say it or not. </div>
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I have seen people get offended by the picture that commemorates my fourth child on my mother in law's wall. She has a drawing that hangs there next to photographs of my three living children--a drawing that depicts a child in the arms of Jesus. A drawing that honors the life that was. A drawing that honors my child, who I loved fiercely. A drawing that honors LIFE. A drawing that says, <i>This life mattered. This life didn't simply disappear unnoticed. This life, existed and is remembered. This life counted. This life is counted <b>equal</b> among the lives of my living grandchildren.</i> Some people would call that drawing awkward. Uncomfortable. Unnecessary. </div>
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I was recently watching the movie, "The Help". There is a scene in that movie where a young woman buries her fourth miscarried child in a shoe box in the backyard. She buried that child alone. Absolutely alone with her box, her dead child and her grief and some dirt. </div>
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There is no funeral procession for the miscarried child. There is no final epitaph, no final eulogy, no flowers, no coffin, no cross. There is only that woman and her grief. But in an age where we Christians fight SO hard for the rights of the unborn, how can we look the other way when our sister loses her unborn child? We grieve the aborted babies, but we disqualify the grief of the miscarrying mother. Am I the only one who sees this massive disconnect as a tragedy? </div>
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The reality is, I'm not "over it". Not even close. I remember my child every single day. I dream of her, I cry for her, I miss her. Little things will send me off in a heap of tears and leave me grieving, aching, hurting... empty womb and empty arms. I long for the day when I'll meet her in paradise. I long for the day when I'll dance with the angels with her in my arms. </div>
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My grief is more than qualified. Mother, if you have lost a child before he or she even breathed their first breath.... your grief is qualified. That life counts. Those who disqualify it surely have not know what it's like to feel the birth pangs alone in your home waiting for a baby to come that's already dead. They do not know that to lose a child is to give birth to a life that's already ended. They can not know the pain and hurt and the loneliness of that grief. But what we can do, mothers, is to honor our children. To count them among our quiver. To honor them with a burial, a commemoration. To hang a picture on our wall or wear a necklace around our neck. To give them a name, perhaps. To write them a letter, or a song. To grieve them for the life that they were.<i> A grief that is qualified. </i></div>
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-10815731756937273142013-06-21T20:59:00.000-07:002013-06-21T20:59:15.803-07:00Being Here<i>background for anyone who may not know. we recently moved to a small town in Minnesota to take a youth pastor position at a small church replant.</i><br />
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I recognize that my last post was a little "pie in the sky."<br />
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The reality is, that it is amazing being here. Not because here is so amazing, but because here is a place of having said yes to God on something He was persistent on.<br />
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But being here isn't easy. You expect a form of a Mount Sinai experience... or maybe a Transfiguration. Okay I said yes to God, and now everything is going to move forward with choruses of angels singing and perfect halo-ed lights around us.<br />
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But it's messy.<br />
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Being here is <strike>imposing on</strike> living with my in laws while we wait to close on a short sale house that's taking much longer than we'd like. Being here is cranky kids who have had rearranged routines and drastic changes of scenery. Being here is going, "What am I doing?" "What did we leave a solid job for?" Being here is closing my eyes and begging God to remind me all the things He placed on my heart when He asked me to say yes originally.<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Being here is boldly facing the critics and telling them you're not actually sure if everything will work out.</span></b></i><br />
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Being here is being at peace in total chaos. Being here is missing family, friends, comfort and a house you called home. Being here is putting yourself out there and wondering if you'll live up to expectation. Being here is wondering if you have anything to offer.<br />
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Being here is a promised land in the sense of knowing that you've said yes and you are blessed in that "yes place". <b><i>But being here is wondering if saying yes is worth it.</i></b><br />
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Being here is being real.<br />
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It was the same in South Africa. I remember one of my professors at <a href="http://www.bcom.org/">BCOM</a> saying, "If you don't have a quiet time here and now, you absolutely won't have one on the mission field." Literally and figuratively that couldn't be more right on. We hold up missions, ministry, saying yes... we hold it all up as a place that we'll <i>arrive</i> at. A place at which we will suddenly evolve into our ideal self and all will be right. But it's not. It doesn't just fall into place. It's rough. It's normal. It's the same temptations, frustrations and failures. It's the same doubts. It's the same sitting in your American dream lifestyle as it is on the mission field in the third world. You're the same person and He's the same God.<br />
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But you know what?<br />
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<i>Being here is standing in the truth that I obeyed.</i> So it really doesn't matter how all of that feels. I obeyed God. I believed God. Abraham believed God and it was credited to Him as righteousness. God brought that verse to my mind when I was experiencing some doubt the other day. Abraham believed God and it was CREDITED TO HIM AS RIGHTEOUSNESS.<br />
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Do I believe Him?<br />
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Do I really believe it was Him that asked me to do this? Do I really believe His promise that He will care for me and complete the work He began?<br />
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How can I doubt Him? My perfect, true, faithful God. The one constant in my ever-changing life.<br />
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I believe. I say yes. I won't pretend it's easy or simple or clean. It's none of those things. But it's saying yes to God. But it's just being here. Being right here.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-55041947385887081152013-06-12T18:48:00.000-07:002013-06-12T18:48:27.785-07:00Black Dirt.I'm sitting here with an open window just behind my computer screen. I can see the glassy soldier blue lake in the evening glow of a setting sun. The grass is a lush green from a full day of downpours and puddles. The sky is gray but the sun casts a wealthy hue just over the horizon. The wind blows softly and all is just beginning to clear.<br />
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The dirt is black. Up until last week, the upturned earth out a very similar window where I sat was red. Red as bricks.<br />
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After almost a year of life in the South, the view out my window has changed. We moved back "home" to Minnesota. Back to the place we met, the place we fell in love, the place we brought home our first born. The one place I've lived longest in a full decade.<br />
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Changing your life is never easy. Saying goodbye that many times can't even be explained. Some may think that since we've moved so much, it's something we enjoy doing. It's not.<br />
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I'll say this once. We move, not for adventure, not of lack of maturity or responsibility, not of a whim, a restlessness or frustration. We move because we are following God<i>. God is not concerned with my routine, my stability or my "roots". God is concerned with advancing His kingdom and I am a resource of His to be used in His way.</i><br />
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We moved here for my husband to take a youth pastor position at a small church in a small town. <i>When I told God "I will go wherever, however, whenever and whyever" He took me seriously. </i>Why was it easier for me to go Africa than to go to a small farming community in MN? God has his own plans. They are higher than mine. He doesn't need to follow my set of plans or my rules. He only needs a life surrendered to Him. His eyes SEARCH THE EARTH FOR HEARTS SURRENDERED.<br />
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There is a peace in obedience. A peace that even when you're criticized and laughed at and misunderstood, the GOD OF THE UNIVERSE is pleased. And everything else fades away in light of that awesome reality.<br />
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As I look out my window at the lake, the trees, the grass, the black as night dirt, I might as well be seeing the Promised Land. <i>Because God has called me here and I need to ask no questions.</i> And of course I doubt. I wonder. I hear the scoffing and and I read between the lines of skepticism and I lay at night and I wonder what we're doing here picking up our lives and leaving a career path for this... but then I remember... <i>I was not made for here. </i>What I invest in this life will be burned up and lost forever. What I invest in the next life is what will last and exist forever.<br />
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I cannot live for myself. It would be foolish to.<br />
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God has so clearly spoken that this is right. To ignore Him would be impossible.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we get caught up in the glorious emotions that burn within God's heart as David did, we begin to see the tremendous unprecedented blessing and power God has planned for this hour in history. We lose our ability to settle for the same ol', same ol'. We burn like torches with strong vision as our fuel. We become people who contend for the power of God available to our generation. -Mike Bickle, "After Gods Own Heart"</span></span><br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-73430436966543490472013-05-29T05:16:00.000-07:002013-05-29T05:16:50.508-07:00My Peyton SpringFour years ago you made me a momma.<br />
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I held you in my arms and we called you "Peyton Spring". You were warm and soft and fuzzy and pink. You were blond and blue eyed and the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. They put a little pink bow in your hair and I fell in love.<br />
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You were only hours old and I danced with you in my hospital gown. I was weak and I was sore from the labor of your life, but I was strong from new birth that coursed through me like a pulse. I danced with you and I sang you lullaby after lullaby. It was dark and your daddy slept, crumpled in that chair in the corner. Outside of our room the nurses worked and the women labored and the children were born. But there, in that room, dancing in the moonlight through the hospital window it was only you and me.<br />
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You were so small. So tiny and so lovely. So fragile and so very full of life.<br />
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Peyton Spring. "Christlike Renewal". The meaning couldn't have fit more perfectly. From the moment your life began, you were renewing me. What you've done in my life, Peyton, it can't be described any other way. You've been a fresh spring breeze and a fountain of life in our home. You've renewed the way I think, the way I feel and the way I love. You've made me softer, quieter, gentler. You've made me laugh more, made me dance more, made me smile more. You've humbled me. You've made me a better person.<br />
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You have these laughing blue eyes that sparkle. You have these strong little arms that hug me tight. I love it when you whisper secrets to me and when you proudly show me your paintings or the flower you picked just for me. I love watching you run through the grass, blond curls wildly bouncing and strong legs carrying you to some far off dream. You are passion. You are freedom. You are a freshness and a lightness that is medicine for my soul.<br />
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You are my firstborn. You had two younger siblings all before you ever even turned 3, but you took it all in stride. You have been mommy's right hand helper and you are so nurturing and caring. You take time to consider each member of the family and are always aware of so much more than I am. You "translate" your siblings baby speak and you always look out for their needs. You share better than any other preschooler I've ever met and I know it's not just because you've had to. You are sensitive to others and you are loving. You care deeply and you are quick to tell those you love how you feel about them.<br />
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You make me want to be young again. To run with you through a field and laugh about grass that tickles our feet. To swing higher, higher, higher. To lay on our backs and look at the sky and identify butterflies and decide which bird is the daddy. To giggle. But you also make me want to be old. To be wise. To be the best mother that has ever lived because I'm yours. You make me want to know everything so I can answer every question. You make me want to understand everything so I can always do right by you. You make me want to be selfless and to always be ready to drop everything and listen to your heart.<br />
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You are beautiful, Peyton. I am so thankful that I was given you as a daughter. Your life is my dream come true.<br />
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I love you. Always.<br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-89048604991744717352013-05-07T16:58:00.002-07:002013-05-07T16:58:27.407-07:00Every Day in May: Biggest Fear<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Well, look at me. I already have missed a couple days of the Blog Every Day in May challenge. But since you all already knew that would happen, I guess I won't apologize ;) I'll probably miss a few more too because my dear Mommy is coming to visit this month! So I, of course, will be busy loving on her and enjoying her company and blogging will probably take another notch down on the totem pole. </span></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Day 7, Tuesday:</b><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">The thing(s) you're most afraid of</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I think there's one thing that we're all universally most afraid of. (I think) and that's losing a loved one. That's something that I definitely think of often, and I imagine we all do. BUT since I don't love to dwell on the darkest parts of my fears, I'm going to go with a little bit more of a silly fear of mine.... but still a very, very valid fear in my life.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I am very afraid of throwing up.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Please, stop laughing.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">No really, stop.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I genuinely am terrified of throwing up. Flu season is an all out terror for me. Any mention at a mom's group of another family having been ill the week before will literally send me running to my hand sanitizer stash. I freakishly wash my kids hands with soap and HOT water after any time spent in a nursery or play group. I am OCD about fully cooking meat and handling raw meat, etc. And I refuse to eat at any hole-in-the-wall restaurant I think may give me food poisoning. I'm really not sure what it is about throwing up that I hate so much, but I just hate it. Not just hate it though... FEAR it. Literally fear it. If I hear my kids make any sound even remotely similar to throwing up in the night, I get clammy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I will say that thankfully my momma instincts have kicked in very well each time my kids have been sick and I've been able to step up and care for them as they've needed... but those have been my more challenging mommy moments for sure.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">So go ahead, laugh at me. I know it's silly. But it really is a true fear for me. As in, it keeps me up at night often. I really have prayed about it a lot and I will continue too. So as silly as it is, it's a true fear.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Well, I feel awkwardly transparent now!!! But there you have it. :) </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6595395555408321063.post-13035071644122160942013-05-04T14:38:00.003-07:002013-05-04T14:39:09.486-07:00Every Day in May: A Beautiful RiskLately I've been thinking that I want to blog more. So when I stumbled across the Blog Every Day in May link up, I figured this would be a great way to do it. Appropriately for me, I'm starting on day 4. I don't know how well that bodes for this challenge, but hey, here I am regardless. ;)<br />
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<b>Day 4: "Favorite Quote and Why You Love It"</b></center>
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I probably couldn't have picked a harder day (for me) to start on. Quotes are sort of a thing for me. I have pages and pages of notebooks dedicated to my favorite quotes. I have old receipts, movie ticket stubs, and pages in books jotted with stand out words that mean something to me. This list could be ridiculously long. I really can't single any one quote out as an absolute favorite. BUT there is one that comes to mind as a quote I've loved for a long time. I honestly think if I ever were to get a tattoo, this quote would probably be it.</center>
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I love this quote because it represents the fact that most great things in life take some risk. I've taken some pretty dumb risks, but I've also taken some incredible ones. Some of my risks have ended in disaster, and others have ended in sheer beauty. But one thing they all have in common--<span style="font-size: large;">every risk I've ever taken has taught me <i>something</i>.</span> I've never walked away from a risk unchanged. Stepping out and taking a risk is scary. </center>
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I've had some of the best metaphorical moments standing at the top of a cliff. Standing up there, feet on the cold rocks, looking at the water below. You want to jump--you want to be brave--but there's that fear in the pit of your stomach that urges you just to turn around. Take the easy way. Forget about the thrill of what could be. I mean, after all, you really don't know if you'll have the best time of your life, or if you'll just belly flop. </center>
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<b>But isn't the chance that it'll be beautiful, worth the jump?</b> Isn't that why people who cliff jump keep on jumping? Isn't that why risk takers keep taking risks? And keep living the lives they were meant to? Taking risk is necessary to step out and live the life you long for. Taking a risk is necessary to follow God wholeheartedly. It's easier to sit on the sidelines. To slide under the radar. To live SAFE. But letting fear hold us back from taking a risk keeps us from the breathtaking beauty in life. Sometimes you just gotta jump. Sometimes you have to NOT CARE if you belly flop. Sometimes you have to forget about the fact it might hurt. Sometimes you have to lose yourself in the good kinds of what-ifs and the exciting wonderings of what could be if you weren't scared of heights. Sometimes, you've just got to jump. All you've got to do is lift those feet. Give yourself a couple seconds of insane bravery and leave the rock. The great part about what happens next is <i>all you have to do is fall.</i> </center>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15420088197107225558noreply@blogger.com3