tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244139922024-03-14T03:20:53.164-04:00Catholic SpiritualityMy Catholic faith is the most important thing in my life. I'd like to share some creative writings on this blog while learning from others, too.spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.comBlogger281125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-47202681934984436152016-02-28T19:12:00.001-05:002016-02-28T19:12:33.905-05:00Eucharist: One Body <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Consubstantial with the Father. We pray that in the Nicene Creed. It means "of the same stuff", i.e. the same substance as the Father is with the Son and as we are to them both. Wow<br />
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The blood I receive from the chalice bursts along my tongue early in the morning during 6:30 Mass. When I swallow it Jesus' blood burns thru a straight line into my stomach. I can feel it so clearly and so LOUDLY inside me. I swallowed it willingly hoping to become one with Jesus who shed that Blood for me. And I DO become one. The precious blood vibrantly travels into my stomach and I am deeply aware of each drop. These moments after Communion are precious and sacred. Jesus and I are physically one. He rests in my stomach and I cherish the reaction I feel. The wine burns<br />
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The Body of Christ. Its not a memento or a memorial but the ACTUAL BODY. It is that Body which prayed not to have to go thru the suffering he knew was coming. The one that was handcuffed and dragged into jail. The same Body I just consumed was beaten with whips, spat on and had thorns pushed into his forehead. That hurting, bleeding Body is in mine. Did the skin that was torn from his flesh by the scourging stay on the whip or fall to the ground with his Blood? He fell three times. He scraped his hands and knees. Did he cry when he met his mother because he saw her pain? Was his blood and skin left on Veronica's veil? on the garments they stripped from him? The nails, the sword, the cross, his shroud....<br />
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The REAL Body of Christ is who I receive at Mass. The same body Mary bore and gave birth to. It's the body that stood before John the Baptist and asked to be baptized. In Communion I receive the Body that felt scourges, spitting and the sword in his side. It's the Body that was taken down from the Cross and held by his Mother. I receive...HIM ? The God who created the universe. The One whom Mary carried in her womb. The One I want to be with in heaven. I carry Him within me now! His Blood burns as I consume it. His body incorporates into mine. We are One. When I leave church I carry that Body with me. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-89215734933141199782013-10-01T06:58:00.000-04:002013-10-01T07:19:31.075-04:00La Petite Fleur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today is your feast St Therese! I want to thank you for the many lessons you taught me. Most especially your message about not taking any more exception to the wrong I do than I take pride in the good I do. That has helped me so much. Like most people I have a tendency to minimize good actions for which I may be applauded saying, "it was not really a big deal ". The good part is that now I can say that about mistakes I make. That's better than getting all upset about having done Another Thing Wrong and focusing on that. God is my Father and if I tell him sincerely that I'm sorry He does forgive me. He sees my heart. I do not need to think at all about the opinions of others<br />
Thank you for this little rose you gave me. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-3374649484230212132013-04-02T18:56:00.000-04:002013-04-02T19:12:53.057-04:00Easter JOY~ one liners<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWFxRvScbzYeaCPOZOO1EbdduYTw_u72BHG0o8j9XPxk8zah7xHTV6sZP0pm1aQvwfGjQrs0EXx1D8Z7U3zr7KozIxhTpriAnyXLum2dsfoQCP9pZPNhhUzYAHdIKB2aD1lWSPg/s1600/joy_of_the_lord_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" mta="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWFxRvScbzYeaCPOZOO1EbdduYTw_u72BHG0o8j9XPxk8zah7xHTV6sZP0pm1aQvwfGjQrs0EXx1D8Z7U3zr7KozIxhTpriAnyXLum2dsfoQCP9pZPNhhUzYAHdIKB2aD1lWSPg/s200/joy_of_the_lord_large.jpg" width="149" /></a>Don't let your worries get the best of you; Remember, Moses started out as a basket case. </div>
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Many folks want to serve God, </div>
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But only as advisers. </div>
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It is easier to preach ten sermons </div>
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Than it is to live one. </div>
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You'll find God lives there. </div>
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People are funny; they want<br />
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And back of the church. <br />
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Opportunity may knock once, <br />
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But temptation bangs on the front door forever. <br />
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Quit griping about your church; <br />
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If it was perfect, you couldn't belong. <br />
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If a church wants a better pastor, <br />
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It only needs to pray for the one it has. <br />
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We're called to be witnesses, not lawyers or judges. <br />
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God Himself doesn't propose to judge a man until he is dead. So why should you? <br />
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Peace starts with a smile. <br />
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I don't know why some people change churches; <br />
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What difference does it make which one you stay home from? <br />
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Be ye fishers of men. You catch 'em - He'll clean 'em. <br />
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Stop, Drop, and Roll won't work in Hell. </div>
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Coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous. <br />
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Don't put a question mark where God put a period. </div>
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Don't wait for 6 strong men to take you to church. <br />
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Forbidden fruits create many jams. <br />
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God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called. <br />
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God grades on the cross, not the curve. <br />
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God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. <br />
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The one who angers you, controls you! <br />
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If God is your Co-pilot, swap seats! <br />
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Prayer: </div>
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Don't give God instructions, just report for duty! </div>
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The task ahead of us is never as </div>
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great as the Power behind us. </div>
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The Will of God never takes you to where the </div>
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Grace of God will not protect you. </div>
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We don't change the message, <br />
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The message changes us. </div>
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You can tell how big a person is </div>
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By what it takes to discourage him/her. </div>
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The best mathematical equation I have ever seen: </div>
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1 cross + 3 nails = 4 given. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-68541989372400796252013-03-26T10:44:00.000-04:002013-03-26T18:06:11.157-04:00They LOOKED on him whom they have pierced<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There were some among the crowd who must have believed he was Jesus, the Christ and Savior. Or some who at least believed he was an innocent man who'd done nothing wrong - even healed people. They watched. They "looked on him". They hadn't done the actual piercing of his side but they might as well have. They were a mob, a crowd of followers who could have revolted en masse but they didn't. They looked. Some may have been very sad, crying even as they looked at his body weakening with every moment. They watched the blood flowing from his side as it turned into an ever clearing liquid. Jesus cried out,"God, why did you abandon me?" They heard and still they watched.</div>
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We can't blame them tho. We do it all the time. We don't get involved in situations of domestic violence. We hear. We watch.</div>
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People are dying alone in hospices all over. We don't even visit or watch.</div>
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Young girls are caught up in the slavery of human trafficking. At 15 they are having their captors' babies. We could donate to the emergency shelters that house them or be like the crowd.</div>
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We can watch the news or watch the movie about </div>
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it...looking on him whom we continue to pierce. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-3628143283800490612013-02-25T07:25:00.000-05:002013-02-26T11:16:30.758-05:00Transfigure ME Lord! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Transfiguration has always been very meaningful for me. I'd love it to be the day on which I die because its appropriate. Jesus, you weren't transfigured. The apostles actually were. You'd always been the Son of God and this may have been the point when the guys actually got it . If there was any doubt before , the Father's proud voice broke thru it. "This is My Son!" Your three best friends are thunder struck. The Rock , Peter, turns into a fountain of ideas. They get it!</div>
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I wish I did. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0dl7IKHeqQvW7JFAjO1KTkNITc9r9n1eyvrtUTxy8BlaMOWzmiPOU6LEvSYQOIpiMbWIU-ywoWqE8x9CfbZesVJyrZmR7MNDzcHxURA3EjLlLGZOWQIPCvcpG8jLKWcprecMaA/s1600/TaylorJames10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0dl7IKHeqQvW7JFAjO1KTkNITc9r9n1eyvrtUTxy8BlaMOWzmiPOU6LEvSYQOIpiMbWIU-ywoWqE8x9CfbZesVJyrZmR7MNDzcHxURA3EjLlLGZOWQIPCvcpG8jLKWcprecMaA/s320/TaylorJames10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'd love to be transfigured from who I am into who I could be, who You created me to be. No mountain or blazing white light needed, Lord. My brain and my ego just need to cooperate with my heart and soul. I want to,I really do. I want to do all those things in 1 Cor 13 ( patient,kind , enduring all things) but I just don't do it. Like St Paul "I do the very things that I hate." What is needed for my transfiguration to finally happen? Do I need to be thunderstruck too? Go for it God! Teach me how to be more like you. Amen</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-80564409053337310162013-02-19T14:11:00.006-05:002013-02-19T14:11:58.909-05:00...and I don't like your hair-do! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If “where there is peace there is God” then where there is no peace there is the absence of God or the presence of evil. If peace is valuable to me I’ll choose it as my goal even in the midst of chaos and negativity. I will choose to be where God is in situations of stress or illness or financial pressure. I will MAKE my mind be still and non-reactive so as to see the issue or event with God’s eyes. Since I am made in God’s image and likeness it is possible. I received the Holy Spirit and Christ’s actual body in the Eucharist so it is possible for me to swallow my instinctive non peaceful reaction in order to act more like Jesus.<br />
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In my professional life I’ve been rejected and in my personal life too. Someone betrayed a confidence. Someone doesn’t like my way of doing things. Rejection doesn’t come naturally. It’s a blow to the ego. Instinctively my insides begin to churn and my blood pressure goes up. Instinctively –almost without any thought process involved- I become defensive or angry. I immediately look at the person differently, i.e. with judgment. Inside I’m saying “Oh yeah? Well I thought there was something I didn’t like about you. And, by the way, I can’t stand the way you do your hair.” Red flags are waving and if the person persists or says something that hits me to the core, bombs go off in my brain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeiaQ5PuCMcvqW2b99A7kGHNW1WfhHkmv-PJnEhrGvBmRvCJyKFtLi4BUEfFp-_TmUbmX-8qTI3DDoHn-3WcGmNUKIFSzRKMZeP8FjxefC0btl_98qGHwk8jPtUqVW54Bb8U0lw/s1600/no+God+no+peace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="386" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeiaQ5PuCMcvqW2b99A7kGHNW1WfhHkmv-PJnEhrGvBmRvCJyKFtLi4BUEfFp-_TmUbmX-8qTI3DDoHn-3WcGmNUKIFSzRKMZeP8FjxefC0btl_98qGHwk8jPtUqVW54Bb8U0lw/s400/no+God+no+peace.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Is all that from God? </div>
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Did the red flags, bad hair comment or exploding bombs come from Jesus Christ? Did God initiate the judgmental thoughts or the defensive reaction? Of course not! Where there is peace, there is God. My really, really hard challenge is to feel my own rising blood pressure and lower it. I don’t have to be that person. I’ve got the Holy Spirit’s guidance and I don’t want to ignore that. I received Eucharist. I have God’s grace. I am made in His likeness. And THIS time is going to be different. THIS time I’m not going to be that defensive person.</div>
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While my BP is rising – or if I’ve already failed and given in – I imagine myself on old planet Pluto and watching all this from afar. (Pluto= the rejected planet). Maybe I’ll even hide myself behind my guardian angel’s fluffy wings. I imagine myself physically uninvolved. The person’s lips are moving and the tension is high but I choose not to be there. Let them keep the judgments and words of anger. I just don’t want them. They aren’t God’s so I’m not participating in the process. I take a breath, step back and remove my feelings from the situation.</div>
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This is much easier to do in a non-confrontational situation. Those type situations are good for practicing. Anytime of the day I can put myself on un-planet Pluto and observe. I can search out God’s actions in my day from behind fluffy wings, while I take a deep breath. The more I practice the more peace I feel. </div>
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Where there is peace there is God. That’s what I want. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-90484623625112716982013-02-05T06:44:00.001-05:002013-02-13T07:35:27.240-05:00For Lent 2013 Be a hole in Gods Flute<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"<span style="background-color: #f6b26b;">I am a hole in a flute that Christ's breath moves through. Listen to this music</span>." 14th century Persian poet Hafiz<br />
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I am not the instrument</div>
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I'm not the music</div>
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I'm not the breath</div>
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I am the hole in the flute only. I am the absence of something. Ego. Selfishness. Control.</div>
When several such holes in the flute make themselves ready, music results. They allow Christ's breath to pass thru and that makes beautiful music.<br />
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If I allow myself to be only a hole in the flute (only yes, but essential for the flute to make music) I can be useful to the Master. If the hole decided to open and close when it wishes it would be useless.<br />
Don't I do that? Don't I decide when and if I will be available and open to the working of God? <br />
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If I allow Gods fingers to manipulate me as he wishes ( why do I internally react "ouch" to that thought? Don't I trust in his love?) then Gods touch alone makes me useful to him and its nothing i have done. His movement makes me useful to his will despite how essential I may believe my productivity is.<br />
And Christ's breath passing thru me? Isn't that the Holy Spirit? I close my eyes and visualize the air in my body filling every space from my skull to my toes. But it's not my own lungs doing the work. The breath is Gods and it fills me like gentle CPR. The air comes from Gods lungs into the flute passing thru the emptiness of the hole into the atmosphere And in that moment if there is no resistance a musical note is formed. Ahhhhh. Sublime surrender!<br />
Together we become a melody. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-77075622819282336712013-01-11T13:45:00.000-05:002013-01-14T13:58:15.086-05:00When's the End of YOUR Lifespan???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ps 90 says " Seventy is the sum of our years, or 80 if we are strong and most of them are fruitless toil..."</div>
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I don't believe the fruitless toil part but can't disagree with the suggested end of a lifespan. Tho I'm not in those decades I am "of a certain age" as the phrase goes. It's time to reflect on what to do with the limited time left. I am very happy that I do not wish i lived my life differently. No regrets. I ABSOLUTELY wish I could have been a nicer person, a kinder person and less of a sinner. {I heard the word <span style="background-color: yellow;">perfect </span> in the Gospel command but didn't hear the word <span style="background-color: yellow;">be</span><span style="background-color: white;"> in front of it until recently. My life was spent <em>doing</em> instead of being- but that's a totally different reflection. } So I won't waste the time looking back and it can't be changed anyway. But going forward what do i do about family, friends, job, church involvement, health, financials, spiritual and personal growth? </span></div>
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I am fluid and always changing as is everyone else, partly due to outside situations but also in part a result of personal choices. </div>
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<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Will I finally put an end to worry and completely trust God?</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Will I actually chose a simpler life style?</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Will take proactive measures to help and protect my body instead of forcing it to do things that may hurt it? </li>
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How many years do I have left to get around to doing these things? There are more years behind me than ahead of me most probably now. If the Scripture is right maybe I should begin this very minute to live the radical life style God requests. </div>
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What about you?</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-3283653797175923492012-12-28T08:24:00.000-05:002012-12-28T11:11:48.047-05:00He Is Alive in Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Be born in me today Jesus please. There is no place in my heart and life for you to be born if I am filled with self or anger. Two things can't occupy the same space. Am I going to send you elsewhere like the innkeeper? </div>
Don't go away, please. I'll make room! </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-47089758929673406872012-12-25T07:34:00.000-05:002012-12-25T08:06:26.335-05:00Spiritually Pregnant Always<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A new day and a new life which introduces a new world. Life is forever different . He has come. Jesus is here. He is in my world eating and drinking like I do, struggling to keep warm or cool. Sometimes angry and sometimes crying. Jesus became Iike me. <br />
I pray to become more like him and spiritually pregnant everyday.<br />
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Happy birthday Jesus! </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-66046162545691725442012-12-24T07:29:00.001-05:002012-12-24T07:29:21.929-05:00Last Day of The Pregnancy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When the Angel Gabriel left Mary she must have wondered if it really happened. She was stunned. But by today she knew not only was it real but the birth was imminent . Today is the last day of that pregnancy. Mary couldn't wait to see the person she'd been carrying inside herself for 9 months. What will Jesus look like? Who will he look like? Will I be able to take care of the baby Messiah?<br />
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Expectancy. <br />
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Do people look at me and expect to meet Jesus?</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-398012664341035012012-12-21T18:51:00.002-05:002012-12-21T18:51:27.176-05:00Spiritually Pregnant and the Word Becoming Flesh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It doesn't just happen on 12/25 you know. The Word became flesh when a woman returned a wrapped package under the parish giving tree despite the fact that her hours at work were cut. And when....<br />
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<li>my sister took my mom into her home to live with her even tho mom has Alz and my sister is on disability</li>
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<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">my friend, her husband and their 4 kids drove 2 1/2 hours to get to Staten Island with supplies for victims of Superstorm Sandy</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">someone I know intervened in a domestic violence situation in order to help the victim</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">our parish decided to visit the 300+ individual senior citizens in our community who are 80 or more years old</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">my neighbor filled my deflated tire with air and mows the lawn and helps to shovel the snow</li>
<li>a co-worker gracefully endures complaints coming from a client or another co-worker</li>
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add your own examples</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-38944397693318979912012-12-17T09:20:00.002-05:002012-12-17T09:20:27.038-05:00suffering while spiritually pregnant <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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People wonder where God is in their pain. One of my favorite books addresses that question really well but for now just one quote from The Shack. "Your pain was blinding your vision of Me." Mary was about 14 and unmarried, a horror in those days to an innocent girl and her parents. Her fiance threatens to leave her but changes his mind in the end. They have to travel on a donkey to Bethlehem while she is 9 months pregnant and she leaves her mom and everyone she knows behind. Could she be thinking: </div>
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<em>Where are you God?</em></div>
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<em>Why aren't you helping me? </em></div>
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<em>Is this the way you want it to be?</em></div>
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<em>This is how the Savior is to be born? </em></div>
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<em>Is this the way you want your Son's life to begin? </em></div>
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After travelling like that her labor begins and Joseph knows he needs to find a home for them. Defeated, all he ends up with is an animal stable. How emasculated he must feel! What kind of a provider is that? He knows from an angel's message that his wife is about to give birth to the Son of God and all he can provide for them is a stable. Joseph could complain:</div>
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<em>Where is God?</em></div>
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<em>Couldn't he have found something better for us?</em></div>
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<em>If this baby is the Son of God why didn't he help me find a decent home? </em></div>
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<em>Why does God allow this? </em></div>
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Jesus is born and he sleeps in a manger. No throne. No home. Just a poor, innocent infant who is heir to a kingdom. This is what God chose for our sakes. Jesus doesn't deserve this or anything that follows in The Story. God chose this so that we could identify with him and he with us. Jesus' was a life of struggle like many of our lives. Staying close to the Father helped Mary, Joseph and Jesus thru it all. </div>
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<em>God, help us please. Show us how to trust when things are tough. Your own precious earthly family endured trials and challenges too. If they had to, then why wouldn't we? Teach us how to endure trials and remain faithful.</em></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-24925468595843917342012-12-14T09:56:00.002-05:002012-12-14T09:56:39.538-05:00SPIRITUALLY pregnant and 10 days left<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
God, I just realized I'm putting too much thought into the being pregnant part and not the being spiritual part. I have NO idea what it's like to carry another life inside me so that was becoming a challenge that wasn't working well. I'd love to be able to do that tho - to physically feel that connected to your Son, my Lord. WOW. <br />
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But I don't want Advent to be over without getting to the real exercise. That is to bring Jesus to others simply because he is so much a part of me (your grace, not my doing). Like a pregnant woman carries her baby everywhere she goes and could never even for a moment forget that, so shall I bring Jesus to others (humph. easy for you to say). </div>
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I will carry his spirit when I talk on the phone or on the computer to others. He's with me in the car when I deal with other drivers and they will in some way be affected. I might pray for everyone on the road with me right now or for everyone i my line to pay the Parkway tolls. Maybe I'll pray for the construction workers doing road repairs. I could let an over anxious driver pass me and smile (!) as s/he drives by. When a complaining person begins to approach me I may stifle my inward groan and remind myself I'm a Jesus-carrier. When that person walks away from me will s/he be better in some unknown way? Will my face exude gentleness, my words offer kindness, my body language be patience? </div>
With your help Father God, I will try. We're 13 days into Advent with 10 days left. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-77069532247997326552012-12-11T19:20:00.002-05:002012-12-11T19:20:22.752-05:00No One Knows I'm (Spiritually) Pregnant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Almost no one in my real life knows I'm spiritually pregnant. It's like I'm carrying around this most marvelous secret. Mary did, too, after Gabriel's visit. Pregnant and unmarried, expecting Joseph to divorce her because how could even he believe this story? "Conceived by the Holy Spirit". My mind, my soul, my heart, even my body is smiling at my special secret. Life is so different when you know you really carry Jesus with you everywhere you go. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-32745663034298569622012-12-08T07:52:00.001-05:002012-12-08T07:54:40.480-05:00Spiritually Pregnant week 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
December 8th ,2012<br />
It's amazing how I find the kindness when I want to retaliate and the patience when I 'd like to be the opposite just because I remember I'm carrying Jesus. I feel like I want to give him good example and I want only goodness to surround him as he ( spiritually ) grows within me.<br />
It strikes me, of course, because I carryJesus in my heart and soul every day but without constant awareness of it. I've been happy and peaceful these past few days because I know Jesus is within me. But the joke is on me because he is always within me! So I <u>can</u> overcome my daily bad habits! As long as i'm aware of Christ's presence within me I can behave differently for him. I'm no longer doing the right thing because I believe it's the right thing to do and I should be doing it. I'm doing it for Jesus who is within me. It's a gift for him because I love him. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-72731130148437547462012-12-06T08:58:00.002-05:002012-12-06T09:00:17.435-05:00Spiritually Pregnant in Advent 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm Pregnant!!!! No, not really. Mary's pregnancy with the infant Jesus is my focus this year. <br />
{see blog date 12/2/11} But I've never been pregnant. I have to imagine what it's like not only to be pregnant, but pregnant by the Holy Spirit after an angel appears to me. Way out of my comfort zone! I'll put a rubber band on my wrist and keep it there until 12/25 as a physical reminder that I'm spiritually pregnant. Advent this year is a time of expectancy which is a step beyond just waiting. Something IS going to happen at the end of this Advent. </div>
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While imagining that I'm pregnant with Jesus I realize that everywhere I go he goes. Sure, he's just a tiny fetus (I know it's a boy!) but he is with me every single moment. What I eat, he gets. When I speak he feels the vibrations of my vocal cords. He feels movements when I reach for something. </div>
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I imagine the same kind of experience when I receive Holy Communion but this feels different and, sadly, more real. Maybe because being pregnant is all day every day and my rubber band reminder that I'm spiritually pregnant never leaves my wrist. After receiving the Body of Christ in Holy Communion and accepting his Presence within me, I somehow lose the experience by the time I get to the parking lot. </div>
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The Baby is present when I'm impatient with someone. If someone shows me a kindness he sees it too. We are a team, He and I. We're are a pair- two for one. Inseparable every moment of every day. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-13114381794444427942012-11-30T10:00:00.000-05:002012-11-30T10:03:28.856-05:00I was a pain in the neck...maybe i still am<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Author Robert Wicks wrote: <br />
<strong>On the way to taking God and their mission seriously, some people do a detour and take themselves too seriously. They become a pain in the neck to be with too.</strong><br />
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<strong>A spiritual master was asked, "If I join this community how long will it take me to get some spiritual depth?" The master said, "I guess about 10 years."</strong><br />
<strong>"Ten years? What if I try really hard?"</strong><br />
<strong>"Then", the master said, "It will be 20 years."</strong> <br />
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The above describes me. And it has taken me more than 20 years to get to the place where I am. That place is the realization that I don't have to work so hard. All I have to do is be faithful. And I don't need to step all over the graces which are in truth, the opportunities in life that allow me to stop and take a breath so that I could really realize what was going on around me. If you can do that, then you can make a choice about what you want to do with your life because of that graced moment. You choose a direction in which to move forward with your next step and that is the path to holiness. <br />
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Driven. Strong. Determined. Focused. Intense. Those words have been used by others to describe me year after year. I was actually proud of that! To me it meant that I worked really hard. I had no idea there were bodies lying in the wake of my passions. The turned-off, the intimidated, the fearful, the sincere innocents and simple genuine people. I plowed my way thru them all, leaving them bruised and burdened. Tornadoes do that, not Jesus followers. During the first half of my life I could not have been deterred from my self imposed mission.<br />
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Today I look back at that person and smile. I appreciate the energy and desire to give her all to God. But on the other side of 50 I'm calmer about it all and more appreciative of simple, quieter moments. Sorry, too, for the damage I may have done. I have finally been gentled. It's been 8 months now I I believe it's a real transformation. I finally surrendered into God's welcoming and protective arms. It's so much better there! </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-72865910983612738142012-09-25T11:02:00.005-04:002012-10-04T19:57:23.067-04:00Clare's mom has Alzheimer's <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: lime; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>this post is different from all the others about catholic spirituality, nonetheless, it comes straight from my heart .....</em></span> <br />
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Alzheimer’s normalized my mom her so that her behavior
became very similar to many others her age who were suffering from the disease.
At 80 years old CAT scans showed that her brain had significantly shrunk and
the crumbling bones caused by osteoporosis shrunk her in size a tiny vulnerable
woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother was part of that
generation that respected elders and never questioned authority figures. That
part of her personality remained, so that whether fractures or big bones broke
she rarely complained. Even when the doctor asked she politely smiled in response
and said, “Oh it’s not too bad.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p>Alzheimer’s creates another unpredictable person however. When
my mother became this person she was lost then bossy. She was compliant then
angry. At times, she was reclusive then anxious and agitated. We rode these roller
coasters with her daily never knowing which person would wake up that day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because her own mother had the same first name, my mother
always went by her middle name. When medical bills began to come in the mail
however she noticed they were sent to the person with her birth name so she
called herself that. She was going by a different name after 80 years of her
life. That might have been easier to accept if her first name wasn’t mine also!
When she didn’t know who I was and I gave her my name she replied, “That can’t
be you, that’s my name.” She was right, of course but the factual accuracy only
exacerbated<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>her self doubt and feelings
of confusion. It was upsetting to me because my mother didn’t even know her own
name now. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Lost. Unsafe. Vulnerable. Confused. Seeking confirmation and
always wanting to go home. Home wasn’t a place of course, it was a feeling of
being safe and knowing everyone around you. Home is predictable and routine.
Waking up in Mom’s world was not that for her. She was uncomfortable. She was
looking at us suspiciously as though she was trying to understand who we were
and where she was and why oh why were we doing the things we were doing?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBIOmJT2gXGwOs1cGwLq7EQefrHBJTyyJpNCmRNDMdoOUmo3eRBIDLvXkm5tHU1Me8DxoRTgbVvFuTidgfzYq09hgEtpEzPHjhPYsI22Z-EPfsOeBY-kEeOGtHJRhG9Ivr7o33A/s1600/Mom's+day+2010+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBIOmJT2gXGwOs1cGwLq7EQefrHBJTyyJpNCmRNDMdoOUmo3eRBIDLvXkm5tHU1Me8DxoRTgbVvFuTidgfzYq09hgEtpEzPHjhPYsI22Z-EPfsOeBY-kEeOGtHJRhG9Ivr7o33A/s320/Mom's+day+2010+006.jpg" width="320" /></a>Other things were different now. Her life long dislike of
chocolate and her preference for vanilla reversed. Blue was the only color she
never liked and suddenly now it’s her favorite. She who walked for hours was
confined to a wheelchair. My mother always cut her own hair, but she went with
me to have her first professional haircut, mani and pedi at age 81. (The next
day she began to peel off the pink color. After that we went with clear nail
polish) She still liked to read so she read and re-read the notes on the white
wipe-off <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>board everyday. Those notes
helped to ground her and remind her who and where she was.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I couldn’t help but look at her sometimes and wonder who
this other woman was! But I also feared that if I didn’t know who she was ,
neither did she. She didn’t know who she was, where she was and on bad days why
she even existed. “ I can’t do anything for anybody and I don’t have money to
give them” That was her frequent response to the revelation that she had 14
grandchildren and 14 great grandchildren Pre and post Alxheirmer’s however my
mother repeatedly said she didn’t have any favorites among her 6 daughters no
matter how many times we jokingly tried to catch her up in this competitive
sibling’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>web. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom worried about being evicted from her
apartment because she never paid the rent (It was my sister’s place). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On long drives she feared she was being
kidnapped and asked me to show her my drivers license. That still didn’t
comfort her because she said I didn’t look like the person in the picture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
But this fearful sometimes sad, worrisome person was my
mother. I was the first born of six and Mom and I always were close.
Alzheimer’s disease not only confuses the patient but the family. She doesn’t
know us and we don’t recognize her anymore. She looked like Mom but usually
that was where the resemblance ended. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
went thru the grieving process when I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s. I guess
that’s why I refer to her in the past tense. She is physically still alive, but
many days she doesn’t even want to be. I hold on to this opportunity tho, with
both hands and my whole heart. I love this woman for who she was and for who
she is and I will hold her for as long as I can. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The new Mom I’ve gotten to know enjoys affection and even
thanks me for hugging her. Our real Mom never liked being kissed, even by her
children. She always used to close her eyes and tighten up her whole face if I
kissed her on the cheek. That woman is gone now thank God. New Mom loves having
her hand held and her forehead stroked when she lies in bed. One day during the
summer, we went to church together and I forgot to bring a sweater to protect
her very thin skin from the air conditioning. She didn’t complain of being
cold, of course, but I reached around her with my left arm to rub her left arm
and increase the circulation. To my complete surprise she stayed in that
position, her head on my left shoulder allowing my left arm to wrap around her
for the entire Mass. It was like a 45 minute hug and I was dumb-founded,
thrilled and confused all at once. It will always be a precious, vivid memory
for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I can barely imagine what it must feel like to live in a
state of constant fear and worry. She doesn’t remember who she is even after being
shown her ID or old pictures. She has to trust that we will return to the car if
we run into a store for a minute. She is always afraid we’re going to run out
of gas or that we don’t know the direction to wherever it is that we are taking
her. Some days she refuses to take her medication and I believe she may be
suspicious of what we may be giving her and of course, there is then the issue
of time and death. Mom doesn’t know the day of the year, she doesn’t know her
own age or whether the people she once loved are still alive. She must feel
abandoned in a very stange world. When told repeatedly that her husband of 59
years died, she alternately thinks we didn’t let her go to his funeral or that
we’re referring to her Father. Mom also refers to her Mother frequently, “Have
I seen Mother recently?” I used to explain that this is the year 2012 and her
Mother died in 1986 but I don’t do that anymore. A simple answer –not this week
Mom – suffices. But with every short little answer I die a little. It’s like
I’ve given up and I guess I have. My Mom is gone like all those other people
from years past, except that she is still here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The fear in her has one benefit – she allows us to protect
her. She permits hugs and the tousling of her hair. She appreciates her feet
being massaged and other kinds of affection. Old Mom wouldn’t allow that sort of
thing! She has days when she trusts being in our care and goes compliantly wherever she is led. She’s
appreciative and doesn’t want to be a burden because we “All work so hard”, She
smiles and laughs and I just eat it up. I work harder at making her happy times
even happier and re-living all the good old days with her. Her smile and sense
of being comfortable is all I need now. Really – its all I need.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Sometimes Alzheimer is kind and permits laughter. There are
days when you can accept it all as the new normal, like when the first place
you look for your missing checkbook is the fridge. Doesn’t everyone store their
important papers there? Or when you see Mom fingering the multi colored beaded
necklace from a casino because she thinks its her rosary beads. We can somedays
appreciate the sad/funny, too. In a hotel one night Mom was left in the
bathroom to brush her teeth. When she emerged we realized that she used the
tiny mascara brush and black mascara to brush her teeth……but she didn’t
understand why my sister and I were laughing. Her new love for ice cream,
chocolate of course, is a great help when trying to give her meds. At 83 years
old, 4’7” tall and 88 lbs, Mom still worries about getting fat. She reminds us
that she doesn’t want another baby. Everytime she got fat, she tells us, she
had another baby! No more!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
When she finally does “Pass on” as they say, “My Mom will
have left me twice- the first time being when Alzheimer took her brain and her
ability to know her daughters and herself. Even with that, however, Mom will be
alive in my heart because whoever she is, she’ll remain my Mother and I will
always love her. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-78684385451238470852012-07-23T08:13:00.003-04:002012-07-23T08:13:46.881-04:00prayers needed pls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My friend Barbara has breast cancer, 2 leaky heart valves and just completed stem cell replacement using her own stem cells. Pls pray for her and her family. Thank you!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-62184062144655579922012-07-19T09:53:00.001-04:002012-07-19T09:53:59.008-04:00Only By His Grace<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9SMDTyG1W8gD_dNW4tA_zpTratfSWqtsPEHNzzkaDHGUNxG0JE1qMvkwkvJ2vfUxfIE8I45kKG7hY64sAePuYbNJUXkULUswGc7pA0K27Px_ScGCs6BZejgHdY_u8kBqvarNQA/s1600/grace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9SMDTyG1W8gD_dNW4tA_zpTratfSWqtsPEHNzzkaDHGUNxG0JE1qMvkwkvJ2vfUxfIE8I45kKG7hY64sAePuYbNJUXkULUswGc7pA0K27Px_ScGCs6BZejgHdY_u8kBqvarNQA/s1600/grace.jpg" /></a></div>
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Only By His Grace is a beautiful song by Ron and Shelly Hamilton (see link below)</div>
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"everything we do is by God's grace alone. </div>
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every loving word we say and every tear we wipe away."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCsIR6mK7hnnneif2VBnrDmZ1hb2-2xJykleQ3RClArPmYvU-W2yYSAcPIg3Z2tZVidxlbW1cyVMEk8UgMBCozpkDh-xf2u1sBZjZ9y70PO-wRjHkx49OXUUyTbLJdv7cRD0suQ/s1600/music+note.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCsIR6mK7hnnneif2VBnrDmZ1hb2-2xJykleQ3RClArPmYvU-W2yYSAcPIg3Z2tZVidxlbW1cyVMEk8UgMBCozpkDh-xf2u1sBZjZ9y70PO-wRjHkx49OXUUyTbLJdv7cRD0suQ/s200/music+note.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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It all come to us with strength provided by God. I want to do good things for you God but I can't do any of them without the strength you give me. You give me the idea itself to do good. That is the nature of your life within me. Your blood flows to my heart softening it and making it vulnerable to the pain of others. My own nature is self absorbed. My needs and wants have to be met before I can look outward. But your grace encourages me to look beyond myself even when my own needs are unmet. It's you God! You give me the thought and the ability and opportunity to carry out the thought. </div>
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Here's the funny part. I get proud of myself when I deny myself and reach out to others. Silly, isn't it? Here, again I'm showing how self absorbed I am. "What a good person you are. You are generous in giving God this gift of self denial." The reality is that you are love, unconditional love for others that cannot hold back. I just need to stay out of your way and say yes moment by moment...which I will do..... </div>
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Only By Your Grace. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.oldchristianmusic.com/music-wma/ron-and-shelly-hamilton--only-by-his-grace/ron-and-shelly-hamilton--only-by-his-grace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Ron And Shelly Hamilton -- Only By The Grace (Vocal CD)" border="0" height="196" src="http://www.oldchristianmusic.com/music-wma/ron-and-shelly-hamilton--only-by-his-grace/ron-and-shelly-hamilton--only-by-his-grace.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-46837035680358632072012-06-27T15:26:00.001-04:002012-06-29T15:54:07.157-04:00Building 429 Song: Where I Belong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.lyricshall.com/albums/Building+429/Listen+To+The+Sound/" target="_blank">http://www.lyricshall.com/albums/Building+429/Listen+To+The+Sound/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=he32vwlKQPY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=he32vwlKQPY</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<u>song: Where I Belong</u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjxio6sfGNGolb7cDBWnT793mi7I6hYQhB3AzpktqPAfNB8TZllzrUVQ7nGdrT7e5exVtiEA1n0LiHTvWFWNURemphj45uo37NI24ZwWEs1kVqThhdkIQYeSDk4U-z2e8cmoB3A/s1600/stairway+to+heaven+P+Arnold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjxio6sfGNGolb7cDBWnT793mi7I6hYQhB3AzpktqPAfNB8TZllzrUVQ7nGdrT7e5exVtiEA1n0LiHTvWFWNURemphj45uo37NI24ZwWEs1kVqThhdkIQYeSDk4U-z2e8cmoB3A/s1600/stairway+to+heaven+P+Arnold.jpg" /></a></div>
Sometimes it feels like I'm watching from the outside<br />
Sometimes it feels like I'm breathing but am I alive<br />
I won't keep searching for answers that aren't here to find<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;">All I know is I'm not home yet<br />This is not where I belong<br />Take this world and give me Jesus<br />This is not where I belong</span><br />
<br />
So when the walls come falling down on me<br />
And when I'm lost in the current of a raging sea<br />
I have this blessed assurance holding me.<br />
<br />
All I know is I'm not home yet<br />
This is not where I belong<br />
Take this world and give me Jesus<br />
This is not where I belong<br />
<br />
When the earth shakes I wanna be found in You<br />
When the lights fade I wanna be found in You<br />
<br />
All I know is I'm not home yet<br />
This is not where I belong<br />
Take this world and give me Jesus<br />
This is not where I belong<br />
[x2]<br />
<br />
Where I belong, where I belong<br />
Where I belong, where I belong</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-76030450244079938442012-06-07T10:32:00.000-04:002012-12-11T19:06:39.484-05:00How To Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZw7NJfjT1ZQfPWSGOLsQFv8ms4XeLjY7wcdtYvAGXZuOHmklAjSToCmHY8xGh1a2L9S4vSdbirESTo-kMFen8KkEP7pIJp-zliLuN4_7pIAuawypI9K4xb1xAXEL8hcgFkWBgRg/s1600/4+a+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZw7NJfjT1ZQfPWSGOLsQFv8ms4XeLjY7wcdtYvAGXZuOHmklAjSToCmHY8xGh1a2L9S4vSdbirESTo-kMFen8KkEP7pIJp-zliLuN4_7pIAuawypI9K4xb1xAXEL8hcgFkWBgRg/s1600/4+a+card.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
Directions (long version):</h2>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Remember that good, warm feelings may or may not be present</li>
<li>NOT so "warm" feelings may actually be present but they must be ignored, swallowed, denied the opportunity to influence your actions</li>
<li>Act kindly toward the other </li>
<ul>
<li>despite your own lack of time</li>
<li> despite opinions of others, including the person you are trying to love</li>
<li> despite what you've observed the other person say or do because it is all about you learning to love well and not about whether your judgements of the other person are correct or not</li>
<li> despite whether that person wants you to love them or appears to want to be loved by anyone at all. </li>
</ul>
</ul>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
short version:</h3>
Ignore your feelings and be kind to everyone all the time. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-57988501938911686832012-05-23T18:50:00.002-04:002012-05-23T18:50:27.463-04:00IF I HAVE MY FATHER’S NOSE, WHAT IS HE USING?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I inherited my mom’s hair and
skin coloring and I got my dad’s nose and ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The hair color is OK and I can dye it if I don’t like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nose is not OK </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> but if I really wanted to
change it I could have plastic surgery or use make-up to bring the focus to
other features.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this
all-surpassing power is from God</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> and not from us</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2Cor 4:7</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As his child I also inherited God’s
soul and His Spirit lives within me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have ‘a divine treasure in a clay jar’ (Lucado’s translation). It is as clear
as the nose- or the ski slope- on my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Undeniable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inescapable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Permanent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It doesn’t really matter if I believe it or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s always there, like the roots that
eventually emerge from dyed hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not
going anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have God’s
Spirit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s cause for rejoicing and
celebration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may not like my nose and
I may experiment with a different hair color but in my soul is the unchanging
image of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24413992.post-78430744728188038022012-04-23T10:30:00.001-04:002012-04-23T10:30:48.410-04:00Silence Between a Young Man and His Father<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A review from the Gospel of Luke<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">God the
Father put a star in the sky for the wise men to follow and an angel* for the
shepherds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*(</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Angels also spoke to Mary about her pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They spoke to Joseph and said it was all right
to take Mary as his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Angels spoke
to Joseph about the escape to Egypt as well as the family’s return to Nazareth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much later and angel told Mary and Mary
Magdalen, “He is Risen</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">!”)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">God spoke at
His Son’s Baptism and at the Son’s Transfiguration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Son was silent at the River Jordan
(although He must have smiled when His dad said, “I LOVE my Son!”). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When His dad proudly burst forth to Jesus’
friends at the Transfiguration, Jesus told his friends to keep quiet about what
they saw.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus at the
agony said, “My Father, if it’s possible take this cup.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His Father said and did nothing (</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> altho Luke says and angel came to
strengthen Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lk 22:43</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">) He was also silent at the
Crucifixion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After 3
hours on the cross Jesus asked his dad why he abandoned him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The response
from heaven was profound silence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe
that God the Father couldn’t have done any more for me than when he remained
silent as his son Jesus cried out, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“God,
why have you abandoned me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would any parent
remain silent and allow his only son to suffer and die as an innocent at the hands
of others? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those
watching said, “If he is the Son of God then let God rescue him” and “Lets see
what happens.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Father was silent and
Jesus died. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLA5pH8fdw-T1NG9fsYxUUQLSm2mrhEVGcI1rh2afNP1egiiwYMZFH0H5yTjgKcGB8faxEVlz_6bPBRVP6lR3rWM7at1xpjul3Zy3qguWlf5DrAf3VgG8sncjmb9gDuJaL_2XCaQ/s1600/Father+receives+his+Son.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLA5pH8fdw-T1NG9fsYxUUQLSm2mrhEVGcI1rh2afNP1egiiwYMZFH0H5yTjgKcGB8faxEVlz_6bPBRVP6lR3rWM7at1xpjul3Zy3qguWlf5DrAf3VgG8sncjmb9gDuJaL_2XCaQ/s320/Father+receives+his+Son.jpg" width="182" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is
finished. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSEC41KxuAVAm0K4D2FPDbM5aJ3Iaw2F3VyoP8XB5q269WCK9dobM-XfCqJO68Pye-PJirtENCTj6eZ_yjb0jtttuUtvPCSfcD_O9faCngzcs2Xq8_rIfQScIzujDgqZwsDN5zA/s1600/heaven-jesus-father-holy-spirit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSEC41KxuAVAm0K4D2FPDbM5aJ3Iaw2F3VyoP8XB5q269WCK9dobM-XfCqJO68Pye-PJirtENCTj6eZ_yjb0jtttuUtvPCSfcD_O9faCngzcs2Xq8_rIfQScIzujDgqZwsDN5zA/s320/heaven-jesus-father-holy-spirit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For my
redemption, that’s when it began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/display.php?r=2c873209022b1f6ab1261e34b2eccc61"> </script></div>spoildchldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01593673754813885963noreply@blogger.com1