tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72525404835283550142024-03-19T17:46:27.980-04:00simple method. profound effect.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-55855747338997535372016-04-02T11:02:00.000-04:002016-04-02T11:02:06.864-04:00Spring. Here, and is coming...Western Michigan has one of the most beautiful summers I've ever experienced; but oh how winter dawdles?! And spring seems to hide beneath a blanket of gray fog and extra layers of clothing.<br />
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Lately, when I wake, I make our bed, open up the bedroom and living room curtains and light a small candle as I pray over our days. I need light...even if that light comes from a small candle on the mantle.<br />
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I open up the blinds in the kitchen; the bright yellow kitchen with a new blue-gray tile floor recently gifted to us from our landlords. The walls and floors catch whatever light that trickles in and magnifies it.<br />
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And then there are the flowers. Oh how good He is to give us these small treasures?! Though spring hides, we've still been able to enjoy little bouquets I've arranged using flowers I've picked up at our favorite discount grocery. It may be as gray as slate outside, but seeing these little lights within our home is God whispering to my spring-starved heart, "Hold on, little one, spring is coming, spring IS near!"<br />
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I told myself a while back that I would get back to writing come Spring.<br />
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With Holy Week and Easter Sunday having come and gone, we are left with the knowledge that Our Savior is Risen! He is alive! Hallelujah! He too, has come and gone, and is coming again. However, His Kingdom, much like spring, seems to be hindered...<br />
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Where are you Lord, when Your people are being bombed on Easter morning? Where are you Lord, when women and children hide in swamps with pythons and crocodiles because the chance of death by these creatures is considered the better choice when compared to certain death at the hands of their countrymen? I struggle to wrap my mind around it all. Parents in the midst of loosing children? Going to bed hungry...again. Praying daily your son isn't shot on his way home from school by drug dealers, thugs, or the police. Yes, where are you, Lord?<br />
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And then I hear Him whisper again, "Hold on, little one, spring is coming, spring IS near!"<br />
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There are so many situations from my backyard to around the globe that I long to see Christ come and change. Make whole. Make right. Make new. And I believe He will...one day. Because He said He would.<br />
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But He is also doing these things right now. The changes may seem small or quiet or get very little news coverage. They are being carried out by His people living in His Kingdom Come that is both here and now and is still yet to come. These Kingdom people are boldly sacrificial. They are often not the loudest, the prettiest, the smartest or any other -est. But they are His people. They do not loose heart in the midst of the storm. They steady their gaze and weather it. Their hope is sure. Christ, the light of the world, is here with us, has gone to prepare a place for us, and is coming again!<br />
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It may not yet <i>feel</i> like Spring here on the Lakeshore of West Michigan, but according to the calendar, it is indeed, Spring!<br />
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Tulips liter the rooms of our cozy little Cape Cod home. Bursts of pink and yellow lift my spirit here on the inside as I remember the warmth of sunshine on my face and the refreshment of gentle lake breezes on my neck. Outside, snow is falling. Yes, spring is here, and is coming.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-45644577316547943442015-08-25T15:30:00.000-04:002015-08-25T15:30:48.121-04:00Sam + sabbatical = Sambatical<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: Arial, _sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333320617676px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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This past weekend, Phil took PTO (paid time off) and had 4 days off in a row (what?!! amazing!) Because he has to schedule PTO a good deal in advance, we knew for a while that we wanted to make the most of our time. We thought about going camping or going to Chicago for a few days...however, a couple of weeks ago, we were able to go camping at the last minute, meeting friends in the Upper Peninsula for the hind-end of their trip . And the more we thought about a trip to the city, the more we liked the idea of Chicago in the fall. We like cities in the fall. Walking arm in arm down colorful streets with crisp air and warm, inviting windows. Sipping hot drinks. Sounds nice, right?! So...we decided to wait a bit for Chicago. </div>
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When I was 17, a few days before leaving for my first international trip, I wondered into a goodwill. At the time, I got everything at goodwill. It's what all the cool kids did, I guess. And by cool kids, I mean all of my camp friends! We refused to buy things at retail price when we could find a used version at goodwill for 50 cents.</div>
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Anyhow, I wanted a few books for the 48 hours of travel time it would take me before I arrived in my final destination in the heart of Asia. Nowadays, I would not recommend finding your reading material in the same way...even then, it was risky! I don't remember any other book I purchased that day, save for Anne Morrow Lindbergh's <i>Gift From The Sea, </i>a modern-day classic published in 1955! (I have to laugh when I think of "a modern day classic"... Does my generation even know what that is? or do we have such a thing today?!) It was a random purchase for sure, and I actually didn't read it during any of my flights. I didn't read the book until maybe four or five months later...sitting alone in a rooftop restaurant, overlooking the magnificent Himalayas. Being landlocked, surrounded by mountains, it had been months since I had seen anything resembling "the sea"; nevertheless, it was the only book I had with me. It was light and fit easily in my backpack, so I pulled it out and began to read...</div>
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Over ten years later, I'm still reading. </div>
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Google Anne Lindbergh and read a little about her life and works. Really, an incredible human being, to say the least. The life she lived...heroic, devastatingly sad, beautiful, passionate, reflective, thoughtful, and with a bent towards the inward. Just google her. You'll be glad you did.</div>
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This particular book was penned while she was on personal holiday, away from husband, five children, and the everyday business of suburban life. She retreated to an island, alone, to be...</div>
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alone. </div>
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"What an idea", I thought, as I sat there enjoying my "alone-ness". </div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">The term sabbatical comes from the biblical Sabbath which serves a basic human need to build periods of rest and refreshment into one's life. Traditionally, sabbaticals are found in academic careers, every seven years, to allow one to pursue the fulfillment of a longterm goal, to build a new skill, or for continued research. </span></div>
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Every year since that time in my life, I've taken a sabbatical. Only in recent years have I begun to call it Sambatical. </div>
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Realizing Phil had this PTO and we did not have hard and fast plans, I thought, this is it! This is my time to be alone. This is the time for Phil to be alone with Ransom. This is the time for Phil to be alone. And this is the time for Phil and I to be <i>alone together. </i></div>
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And we did just that. I went away for a night and a morning. Eating, drinking, sleeping, waking, thinking, reading, alone. Phil and Ransom had their first ever "alone together" time. We all regrouped for a day spent together at the zoo and wondering down side-streets in a sprawling, funky, inspiring part of Grand Rapids. The next day, Phil left for an afternoon and evening alone. He drank coffee and beer and had the time and space to pen some of his thoughts on being a physician. </div>
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You can read his beautiful + poignant words here:</div>
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<a href="http://usedbooksandwhiskey.tumblr.com/post/127341201639/to-walk-away-from-a-delivery-room-and-hear-wailing" style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">http://usedbooksandwhiskey.tumblr.com/post/127341201639/to-walk-away-from-a-delivery-room-and-hear-wailing</a><span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;"> </span></div>
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And the following (and final) day, Phil and I concentrated on our "alone together" time with brunch and intentional conversation. </div>
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As Anne writes, (She's an old friend, so I call her by her first name :)</div>
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"Actually these are among the most important times in one's life--when one is alone. Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone. The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer, to work out his thoughts; the musician to compose; the saint, to pray. But women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves: that firm strand which will be the indispensable center of a whole web of human relationships"</div>
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For me, Sambatical is a restful time, literally. I take rest. It is a creative time. I'm more sensitive to different shades of color and subtle sounds such as the bee humming in the garden. It is a holiday--a time for those things out of "my ordinary"; so I may stay up late OR go to bed early.... I may get ice cream or have a third cup of coffee. </div>
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Sambatical is a reflective time. I think about my roles and responsibilities as wife and mother. I think about my art, caring for people's hearts, minds and bodies. It is a <i>holy</i> time. My heart cries with prayers that my mind has been too crowded to know of...</div>
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Some people may think I'm crazy to go to dinner and a bed and breakfast alone. Some may think time alone is selfish. Some may think it's just pointless. Or maybe there is just no time to do such a thing. Or its too expensive. </div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">I think it's important. I think it's necessary. I think it's <i>possible. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">Yes!... even when you have little kids, a demanding job, or a limited income. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">Make part of everyday (even five minutes), </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">every week (an hour after the kids are in bed), </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">every month (a morning away to breakfast alone), </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.3333320617676px;">and every year, a <b>sabbatical. </b></span></div>
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<i>Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed...</i></div>
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<i>Mark 1:35</i></div>
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-39204403995896237282015-07-07T15:39:00.003-04:002015-07-07T15:39:41.871-04:00Slowly living the fast lifeI'm slow.<br />
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Just ask my husband, and he'll quickly tell you that I am slow. At everything.<br />
I'm especially slow leaving the house once I've said "I'm ready". I meander over old mail. I ponder life's impossible questions. I stare out the window for far too long sometimes. I've kind-of always been an old lady, really.<br />
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Anyhow, I've slowly grown more and more comfortable with myself over the years and actually like this trait about me (even if others do not!)<br />
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Before Phil's and my wedding, I remember several people telling me how their wedding days were a blur and how they'd remembered nothing of the day! I was bound and determined to savor my wedding day.<br />
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And I did.<br />
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I still remember soaking in a bath on the morning of my wedding. Shaving my legs and sipping coffee. I remember seeing my good friend, "the wedding planner" giving instructions on how to hang the lights and deciding where the ferns should go. I remember another friend showing up wearing the same gap summer dress I had planned to leave in...and her somehow finding another dress to wear before I knew anything about it! I remember scarfing down hot Stromboli in the kitchen in my wedding dress with Phil right before guests started to arrive. And how one of Phil's groomsmen asked me if I was sure I wanted to marry Phil because he was still available and willing! I remember it all. Because, I'm slow. I soak things up.<br />
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Lately I've been thinking about how I want to capture every moment on film, on journal pages or in the blog-sphere so I won't forget our lives right now. Our mornings at the beach tossing sand into the waves. Or how his hair falls just so and his legs fold up like when he was a newborn when he falls asleep in my arms.<br />
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And then I exhale.<br />
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Because I savor. I live life slowly. I'm not going to lose these moments. They will always be with me. Even if in the end I lose my ability to remember, these moments are apart of me, because I've taken the time to live them.<br />
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If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times, life is just happening too fast these days (yeah, yeah, I know, another old lady comment, but it's true!)<br />
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For me, taking things slowly, sitting and just looking at them, my guys, as they play in the backyard or laugh and splash at bath-time, its how I'm hard-wired...it's just how God chose to make me. Don't get me wrong, fast-paced people still savor; I just think they may have to work at it more. Phil is fast-paced. He is efficient. He can accomplish in an hour what usually takes me six! I love/hate that about him! But he can slow down in that hour he sets aside to do so. I just think its important to do so regularly and with intentionality. Before its all gone.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">What are our lives except a vapor that appears for a little while and vanishes and passes away?" James 4:14</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span>Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-69579416877911103592015-06-21T23:01:00.004-04:002015-06-21T23:01:54.305-04:00Father's Day We started the day with coffee and sticky buns. I'd like to say they were homemade, but that would be a lie. I brewed the coffee without placing the top on the pot so coffee grinds spilled over into our cups. Phil attempted to strain the coffee with a metal filter but there was really no saving it. So we left for church not nearly as caffeinated as we should have been.<br />
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After church, R went down for his nap and Phil and I snacked, made iced lattes and cooked brussels sprouts (yes, roasted caramelized brussels sprouts that I could eat all day long!) We headed out for the annual summer OB/gyn Intern welcome party at the Spitzleys. We ate, drank, and played backyard games. R wore himself out chasing other (bigger) kids around the yard. His new favorite game is "bags" (so say the Michiganders), to all others (normal folk), corn hole. The men had the extra challenge of getting the bags in the hole without sacking the kiddos in the process. Oh, and here is R's "twin", M. They are almost a year apart and seriously could pass as brothers! Every time we get together with the folks from the residency, I'm reminded of how grateful I am that Phil made the choices he made that led us to this time and season that we are sharing with these awesome people. I know Phil prayerfully considered multiple programs, and He trusted God in accepting this site for his residency training years. We don't always understand what God is doing when He call us to something (or somewhere); sometimes it takes us a while to see the pieces come together. But when we begin to see how He orchestrates all the details, it is something really beautiful....and something I would have surely made a mess of if it were up to me!<br />
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We left the party and picked up our bikes that we ordered on Saturday. We're still waiting on the two-kid trailer to arrive and I can't wait for a family bike ride adventure! While I got R squared away in bed, Phil took his new bike for a spin down to the beach. When Phil got home, we switched and I rode my bike down to the beach just in time for the sunset on the longest day of the year. I've seen some really incredible sunrises and sunsets all over the world, and I have to say, Lake Michigan sunsets are some of the best! I called my Dad on the boardwalk overlooking the Lake to wish him a Happy Fathers' Day. My dad is a man of few words, but that's one of my favorite things about him. We've shared innumerable quiet hours, often by the water and with rod and reel in hand. I hope our children get the opportunity to share those quiet moments with their Papa...down by the water, learning to "feel" the fish bite.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-91887646279622501582015-01-01T11:29:00.000-05:002015-01-01T11:38:21.449-05:00New Year's Resolutions: Why they're not such a bad thing...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've long been apathetic towards New Years' Resolutions. Its not that I think they're bad, its just that I haven't ever been into making them...<br />
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formally, that is.<br />
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You see, to some extent, A New Year's Resolution is like any other resolution: <i>a reset. a new beginning. </i><br />
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When I really think about it, I make New Year's Resolutions all the time. Each day, I resolve to do something. And I think its important to be mindful enough in our day to day living to <i>resolve</i> to doing <i>something </i>each day...even if the something is brushing my teeth before noon or making it to the pool for a swim (yes, these are actual daily resolutions for me :)<br />
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Over the last few weeks, several people have been talking about their New Year's Resolution(s). For some, its weight-loss. For others, its to be more organized. Some people are leaving Social Media behind in this New Year of 2015.<br />
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While I've decided to keep my resolutions private in my personal journal (Yes, a hardcopy, bound, leather journal (how archaic?!)), I nevertheless have jumped on the bandwagon and chosen to embrace our cultural practice of New Year's Resolutions.<br />
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Because who doesn't need a <i>new beginning? </i><br />
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<i>Isaiah 43:19 Behold, I will do something new, now it will spring forth; will you not be aware of it? I will make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert. </i><br />
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I instinctively hit my reset button both in the Fall and Spring. Summer is usually a less planned, more laid back, and more care-free form of me as a friend, a daughter, a sister, a wife, and now as a mother. By the middle of winter, I need an intentional reset.<br />
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I need to be reminded that God is at work in me and in those I know and love, and in our world. I need the hope that God is making a way...and not just a way, but <i>His Way.</i><br />
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For me, 2014 was one of my BIG YEARS. I became a mother this year. I became an Nurse Practitioner this year. I watched my husband become a Doctor this year. And I saw pieces of the puzzle fall into place in ways that I never would have imagined.<br />
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I resolve <i>to be</i>, to practice, to live, to grow, and <i>to...</i> quite a few other things in 2015. Its exciting, isn't it...A new year? A new beginning?<br />
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Cheers 2014!<br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-38893599805191497782014-11-09T13:39:00.002-05:002014-11-09T13:39:46.251-05:00Serious...but not so seriousThis weekend, Phil has been on call. He worked all night friday and came home to hang out with R and I. I sat on the couch drinking my latte and eating cinnamon raisin toast and just watching the two of them play.<br />
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Phil and I have both been accused of being "serious" people...on more than one occasion. There is nothing wrong with that in and of itself except for, when we aren't (serious, that is).<br />
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One of the most appealing aspects of my husband is when he <i>lets his hair down </i>and plays. I saw this side of him when we met in college, when were young and in love. The love remains, but the physical youth is fading. But he still plays.<br />
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He is quite playful anytime we get around his family for the holidays. I love it when he picks on his sisters (no offense sisters who are reading this :) ...I just think it is so endearing. He plays around with our dads and my uncles...poking fun and making jokes that grown men make.<br />
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And He plays with R. <i>Be still my heart </i>when he, my serious husband, plays with our son. He builds towers to be knocked over and tosses our care-free laughing bundle high...almost touching the ceiling. And then, one of their favorite things to do together is "balance the baby"! R sits in the caring and capable hands of his Dad...balancing and grinning ear to ear. Phil pretends that he is going to drop the baby...letting him "fall" close to the floor, only to be swept up to the hairy kisses of his Dad.<br />
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And then we all laugh, we serious (but not so serious) people laugh. Because we are having so much fun playing together.<br />
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Being serious people is very much apart of who we are and how we've gotten to this time and place in our lives. But we are not who we are and have not gotten where we are by seriousness alone. We do play.<br />
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<i>Play.</i> We Honeas love to play.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-76502077305613854662014-10-25T16:40:00.000-04:002014-10-25T16:40:21.527-04:00Choking on LeavesIts days like today that I just want to sit and savor...<br />
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perfect golds. falling leaves. my favorite quilt in the backyard.<br />
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I sip a latte and nibble on sea-salted-caramels while Ransom crunches leaves with those chubby little hands.<br />
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Not long after capturing the moments above do I hear Ransom start to gag...not just gagging a little, but full on choking! I flip him over my knee as he throws up his lunch (at least 3 oz of milk!) and then do a quick finger sweep to find that he'd not just been eating pieces of leaves...he'd swallowed an entire leaf!<br />
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After making sure his airway was clear, we did a quick wardrobe change; Nay, I did a quick wardrobe change (he managed to spatter every layer of clothing I was wearing. What can I say, the kid's got skills) and there he was, right back at it...trying with all his little big being to make it back to the edge of the quilt where he could eat more leaves! <br />
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How often do I do the same thing?...stuff my face with things that will choke me. I'm not talking about physically stuffing my face to the point of choking (well, mostly I'm not talking about that...)<br />
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I'm talking about force-feeding my spirit and choking my soul on things that <i>can</i> and <i>will </i>rob life. For me, the leaves come in many colors, shapes, and sizes...<br />
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<i> "surfing the web" when my husband is sitting right next to me. We could be talking. We could be reading out loud together. We could be making out for Pete's sake! </i><br />
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<i>picking a fight when I could be giving those I love the benefit of the doubt</i><br />
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<i>watching an episode (or four) of junk on Hulu when I could be playing with my son without the background noise</i><br />
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<i>judging others for their shortcomings instead of acknowledging and encouraging their sucesses</i><br />
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<i>endless scrolling of my Facebook newsfeed to see what my "friends" are up to when I could be writing a letter to one of them in real time...</i><br />
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Instead, I crawl like a wild animal to the edge of my quilt and eat those leaves! Leaves that will choke me.<br />
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It scares me to think about how many times a day I race towards the edge of the quilt and eat leaves...like I can't (or is it that I <i>choose?) </i>not to remember the choking episode just moments earlier.<br />
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My daily prayer is that I'll remember the choking and I'll put down the leaves. And if I don't have the strength in me to do that today, that God in his grace will finger sweep my throat and set me back down again in the middle of the quilt.<br />
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He is good like that. Always saving me from myself and keeping me close by to care for me when I inevitably eat leaves again.<br />
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Thanks be to God.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-45617128509136629432014-10-03T10:22:00.000-04:002014-10-03T10:22:15.051-04:00Battered blooms. Brimming brewsThunder storms on Lake Michigan are a force to be reckoned with. The neighbors' trash can barrels down the street as I look outside the window...mistaking the sound for thunder. But then I remember that thunder here is much louder. Like, stop-what-you're-doing-to-listen LOUDER. It echos off the sand dunes and rolls over you like a Mack Truck.<br />
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We planted a cutting garden late in the season this year. We're harvesting lovely zinnias and marigolds for small autumnal bouquets. I place them throughout the house in an attempt to invite the outside-in.<br />
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I desperately need the outside-in these days.<br />
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I know that, not long from now, we'll be blanketed in white and no green will grow on the outside.<br />
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My sunflowers had hopes of blooming soon. Now, I'm not so sure.<br />
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****<br />
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The house is still. The dishes are half-washed. Laundry is sorted and I just got a "stone-bruise" from one of Ransom's wooden blocks. At least I didn't spill my latte. <br />
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Oh, how I savor my morning latte. Without it, my day feels as if its waiting to start. The comfort of this daily ritual grounds me, centers me, and reminds me of His mercies made new.<br />
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****<br />
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Ransom is growing and changing so fast, especially this past month. Its been my personal mission to put some meat on this kid. Phil says he is on the sumo-wrestlers' diet, gaining over 30% of his entire body weight THIS MONTH alone. My little guy is becoming a chunker. And I love it!<br />
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And then there is the development of his personality. Oh this kid! He chases his feet like a dog chases his tail. He ventures to danger zones, you know--stairs, live wires, nuts that have fallen on the floor--then he stops, looks at me and waits for me to say "NoooOH!" He squeals with excitement before launching himself forward towards said danger whole-heartedly. He is my reckless little honey-badger.<br />
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Independent and wild at heart, he still puts up with my constant nibbles and kisses. He giggles for days when I nibble his chiseled chin or his tiny toes. I kiss him so hard sometimes he falls over. laughing. and gets back up for more! <br />
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****<br />
The storm has calmed and the baby has risen. A new day, a new month, a new season is here. Colored leaves carpet the backyard where we will undoubtedly play later today.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-13580380867184810982014-08-11T10:49:00.003-04:002014-08-11T11:07:09.708-04:00"I spy"s and crocodile eyes How are we already midway through August?! Summer days have a way of lingering in their given twenty-four hours, but racing ahead as they're collected into weeks and months.<br />
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Yesterday was Ransom's 5th month of life outside my body. Again, time can sprint ahead when we do not pay attention...<br />
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Around these parts, we've been trying to pay attention to that slippery thing we know is <i>time</i>. There is a time for walks, for chores, for baths and laughs. There is a time for the baby to rest while mum takes care of all those other things she cares for. And there is a time to wake...<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><i>"Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." Ephesians 5:14</i></span><br />
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When I hear my little bird stirring in his nest--he coos and cackles-- he's often so loud I can hear him from any room in the house. I let him sing a bit on his own before I go to him. The first thing I do is draw the curtains and open the windows wide to let the light shine on his face. He usually sneezes right away and then a huge sleepy smile is had across his entire face. You know the kind. The kind where eyes and ears and forehead and chin are all involved...that kind of full-face-smile.<br />
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I reach down and kiss him awake and go on about whatever I was doing before...allowing him a gentle transition from sleep to wakefullness--a consideration he often gives me. Most mornings, he gives me a gentle transition...cooing contentedly in his crib while I gather myself to start the day. And then, when he's ready, I can look from the hallway into his room and see crocodile eyes peering just over the top of his bed. Again, he'll do a full-face smile but all I can make out from my vantage point are those cute little forehead wrinkles and smiling crocodile eyes.<br />
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Next, we start to play a game. You're never too young <i>or too old</i> to play a game. Our latest favorite has been "I spy". It seemed only natural to play "I spy" being that Ransom's crocodile eyes are always moving to and fro, soaking in <i>his world</i>.<br />
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We will settle down in a chair to read, again with windows open wide, inviting <i>outside to come in.</i> Right now, I can create and control what "outside" comes into my home. We do not have TV, but we still have laptops and iphones; lately, I've not kept global events <i>outside</i> of our home because they need to come <i>inside</i>...from Israel to Iraq to India to Ukraine. In the same way that one is never too young or too old to play a game, one is never too young or too old to <i>pray. </i>If Ransom has memories of this early time in his life, I hope he remembers the prayers lifted up; lifted high and out-loud and often accompanied with tears flowing from crocodile eyes.<br />
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There are many things that I believe we should leave <i>outside</i> of the home, but some things, even hard things, sad things, uncertain things, should be invited inside, through open windows.<br />
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In the Old Testament, windows were often analogous with eyes when describing the body. We are instructed to <i>remember Him</i> in our youth...<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><i>Remember him before your legs--the guards of your house--start to tremble; and before your shoulders--the strong men--stoop. Remember him before your teeth--your few remaining servants--stop grinding; and before your eyes--the women looking through the windows--see dimly. Ecclesiastes 12:3</i></span><br />
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So in my house, the young and the old, with crocodile eyes, will sit with open windows to the desperate matters in this life and with the hope of Christs' light shining upon us all. We will close our windows to those things that seek to rob <i>time...</i>instead we will read together, play games together, and pray together...<br />
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Because time has a way of getting away from us.<br />
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<span style="color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>the view from my open window</i></span></span></div>
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-28486364312385579672014-07-30T21:45:00.000-04:002014-07-30T21:53:08.552-04:00Tiny socksLaundry.<br />
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<i>the bane of my existence</i><br />
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Before having a baby, Phil and I both had our "professional" clothes that we'd each take care of separately. If one of us was doing a load, we'd put in the others' underwear or casual/easy-care clothes to top off our load. It was a simple way to say "I love you, dear". By this measure, Phil loved me more. A whole lot more! There were weeks upon weeks that I'd be wearing dirty clothes if it were not for all my husband's love. Because...<br />
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I. hate. doing laundry.<br />
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Right now, even as I type this I can hear the dryer humming along in the basement. That annoying alarm will go off any minute now and wake Ransom from his well-fought-for sleep! The machine itself mocks me. It advertises right there on the top where all the controls are "alarm activated system!" I'm pretty sure it has an exclamation point. I'm too lazy to go down there to check, but there it goes, BEEEEEEPPP! ugh. Sorry Whirlpool...this is not a feature to promote. Its not a selling point in my book.<br />
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Anyhow, back to me hating laundry.<br />
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When we started getting baby gifts from friends and family, lots of people wanted to give Ransom clothes. Why?, I guess because clothes are cute or something. To me, its the baby inside the clothes that is so cute and the clothes are just... more laundry! I remember saying to Phil so many times, "Oh. my. gosh. not only do I have to try and find my socks in the black hole that is our dryer, but now I'm going to have to find minuscule baby socks too!" I seriously stressed out about all the tiny socks that were soon going to permeate my life!<br />
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Now, after collecting a good number of tiny clothes that go along with mine and Phil's loads of laundry -- <i>all of which I do now because apparently I'm just so full of love (</i>its actually because Phil is in his intern year of residency!)<i> --</i> I can't help but chuckle to myself when a tiny sock falls out of a pair of Phil's pants. A tiny sock that is not suppose to be in his load of clothes. Funny how that happens. Tiny socks creeping up all over the place.<br />
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I think about how these tiny socks have changed my life. about how these tiny socks hold those precious tiny feet that I kiss every time I change his diaper. about how these tiny socks will one day no longer be tiny...how they will someday (not that far away) be big and smelly socks just like his dad's.<br />
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Yes, I hate laundry.<br />
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But finding these tiny socks amidst the heaps of sorted laundry...makes doing this mundane and loathsome task <i><b>not so</b></i>... either of those things.<br />
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Bring on the tiny socks, I say.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-79755237408009658732014-07-25T16:40:00.001-04:002014-07-30T21:56:20.696-04:00Tea. Flowers. Revisiting the years past. A year and a half have passed since my last post. <br />
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Each time I decide to start writing again, I get this urge to start over, brand new. Once I went to Tumblir. Once, I tried to write a "newsletter" that I would send out quarterly by email...yeah, that didn't last.<br />
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So, here I am again. Inspired to write. And this time, I've decided just to pick up writing here. The name of the blog still rings true. Simple methods do in fact have profound and lasting effects.<br />
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Despite the massive changes that have taken place in our lives in the last four years (including the last year and a half that I have neglected writing), I am still <i>me. </i>Still walking beaches and climbing mountains, smelling flowers, sipping beverages, and placing all my hope in this world in the God who made it. <br />
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So, in the year and a half that I did not write here, I began a children's book series. Phil left home for four months for away rotations. I grew and birthed a tiny human, a boy called Ransom, who is pretty amazing (I'm sure he will be the topic of discussion for many if not most of my posts). Phil graduated medical school. I finished my nurse practitioner program. We moved from Maine to Michigan. And Phil started his residency training as an OB/Gyn.<br />
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There ya' go. I think we're about caught up! <br />
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If you're new to my blog, join me in re-reading our adventures since 2010. I've just filled my teacup with raspberry earl grey and opened the kitchen window to look out over my backyard cutting garden. There's nothing quite like the calm of afternoon tea while the baby naps and I rest. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad Honea hoods Dr. Phil. May 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Honors society induction. May 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We moved from Maine to Michigan! June 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqci9RgEfa9L1HThE-iR1_BRmdF5qAiBaWeI0SrogDQIOSjs0pvPGmKibCMZH-Ak2uQTdX0JAOut-oezt1793t8hsepAt8vr2mzFDnggiu0ede7_EmfVqQiWHRG-vu01o8LT5kGOEriMA/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqci9RgEfa9L1HThE-iR1_BRmdF5qAiBaWeI0SrogDQIOSjs0pvPGmKibCMZH-Ak2uQTdX0JAOut-oezt1793t8hsepAt8vr2mzFDnggiu0ede7_EmfVqQiWHRG-vu01o8LT5kGOEriMA/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth of July with friends! July 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj374uJlz7z2T_nAh4QWjj5ZGDBtU2Q9Z2d57vfOumRYMgWvlFJDtxnUjf6hsnyJjwBPZtSyR1rKsZUWPOLPtv4fUna_IP14_ChjjLw9wYdHddsk6sO_8MSHruaTRvKt1MLeQnY99BgyLo/s1600/IMG_1576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj374uJlz7z2T_nAh4QWjj5ZGDBtU2Q9Z2d57vfOumRYMgWvlFJDtxnUjf6hsnyJjwBPZtSyR1rKsZUWPOLPtv4fUna_IP14_ChjjLw9wYdHddsk6sO_8MSHruaTRvKt1MLeQnY99BgyLo/s1600/IMG_1576.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil likes to send logs back to the "sea"...I mean, lake :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuCvdzJhQpnfBI3_o9Txu34ZL-W4DLICv9J-z-ZI-o1i25h3o57F200DkAUzcpRTCIaRTlENdBermqn-zztI3E4WUwm-MRB4UvmFjEA4RE8rpqdXjO7WKFLelPS7uvD2IeP_6kuCTM_o/s1600/IMG_1572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuCvdzJhQpnfBI3_o9Txu34ZL-W4DLICv9J-z-ZI-o1i25h3o57F200DkAUzcpRTCIaRTlENdBermqn-zztI3E4WUwm-MRB4UvmFjEA4RE8rpqdXjO7WKFLelPS7uvD2IeP_6kuCTM_o/s1600/IMG_1572.jpg" height="159" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father's Day Brunch with my guys! Happy First Father's day Phil! June 2014</td></tr>
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-81618218163915906352013-03-28T13:07:00.002-04:002013-03-28T13:11:05.836-04:00Time to StretchThis is the first time to my memory that I've actually had Spring Break fall at the same time as Passover.<br />
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I've not thought about it in the past, but this is really quite a blessing. To <i>have</i> the time and the motivation to <i>take </i>the time to be still. To be mindful of more.<br />
<br />
For our Sedar dinner, we had roasted chicken for the meal. I made a chicken salad with the left behind chicken and charoset (grated apples, nuts and cinnamon mixed with red wine, representing the bricks and mortar the slaves used in making the Egyptian buildings). Last night, I boiled down the skin and bones and made a chicken broth for the freezer. And with the remaining broth, this morning, I made about six servings of homemade chicken noodle soup (of which I'm having a bowl even as I'm writing this!)<br />
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In the stretching of our Seder meal over this week, I can't help but be reminded of God's 'stretching' in our lives.<br />
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...stretching of His provision. Just yesterday, I was going over our finances and saw that there was an additional 700$ dollars in our account that is usually not there at this time of the month.<br />
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...stretching of His faithfulness. Many years ago, God set it in my heart that I would love and serve Him through loving and serving others. He gave me a kind, honest, and disciplined partner to share in this call. He walks with us day in and day out in His great faithfulness and in our faith<i>less</i>ness when we are tired. hungry. overwhelmed. discouraged. you name it. our faith is shaken by the smallest of things.<br />
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...stretching of His favor. Reflecting this week, I am blindsided with God's favor over us. Sure, we have endured trials and heartaches (heartaches that I am reminded of every Spring...), but He has never left us nor forsaken us. I celebrate the abundant life that He has given me through the Messiah, Jesus Christ. <br />
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The sun has just come out and its warm today (43F!) Its time to stretch these legs and lungs of mine...<br />
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How have you been stretched?...Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-20471769110218141622013-03-18T12:44:00.000-04:002014-07-25T15:56:49.626-04:00Lately.<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/60349898?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=547a7b" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe>Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-44662478626428932102013-03-16T14:31:00.003-04:002014-07-25T15:56:35.853-04:00SimplifyingIf you read my blog at all regularly, then you know that I have been <i>less than regular</i> with its updating the last few months. We have been incredibly busy with a many number of things--listing a few in this space and at this time that 'summarize' something so large as <b>life</b> would be a gross oversimplification of the unique and blessed season that we are currently pursuing...<br />
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Some things need oversimplifying. like cakes with too much frosting. small spaces with too much stuff. mail that piles up for weeks because you see the pile and decide it should be moved to that shelf in the dark part of the pantry in whose direction you never look. <br />
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But simplifying <b>abundant life lived</b>. Impossible. so please, please, excuse the irregular nature of my postings and join in as much as you wish as we seek to <i>live life to the full!</i><br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-67427844904111632602013-02-10T18:53:00.001-05:002013-02-10T18:53:41.064-05:00A muffin minute...country girl styleIn normal Sam-fashion, I've got a few minutes here (14 to be exact) and I'm going to make the most of them!<br />
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Roast is packed. Veggies are chopped. Banana Nut muffins are baking.<br />
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Another busy week awaits. Not even Nemo can stop this rat-race! This week I'll be returning to my clinic further north in Midcoast maine. Apparently they got more snow than us so I'm hoping the Wenus is up for the adventure (yes..I said Wenus. like Venus. but with a W. the toyota is affectionately named the Wondering Wenus...I digress) <br />
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I'm learning a ton about what it means to be a primary care provider in a small town. there is one grocery store and after only a few weeks in the clinic, people are coming up to me on the bread isle asking me to look at their kid's rash. good times.<br />
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In other news. I finally did some spring cleaning. I realize we just got 2 feet of snow, but gee whiz kidz, it was a steamy 34F today!!! I even opened our windows!<br />
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This upcoming weekend Phil and I are headed to our favorite camp in New Hampshire for a Christian Medical and Dental Association (CMDA) retreat with other greater boston members. I'm so excited. Again, like usual, I don't know what the content will be, but I'm sure it will be awesome.<br />
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As my kitchen timer is digitally mocking my slowness of typing, and my muffins attempt to burn, this country girl is making the most of her minutes. I encourage you all to do the same this week. Look for moments to seize. Chores to do that need to be done. Oh, and remember to be joyful. its hard work sometimes, but there is something so soul-satisfying about joy...Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-17963892617286524202012-12-22T14:46:00.000-05:002012-12-22T14:46:04.689-05:00The cat in the hat...Well...not the cat in the hat exactly. Rather the cat in the carry-on!<br />
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ugh. why do people carry their cats on planes? don't you people know that I have a weakened immune system because I just had the worst semester of my life and now you want to bring your cat along for the plane ride.<br />
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great.<br />
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allergies can feel like death sometimes. especially when your throat is closing. Hear me now, cat people. I love pets as much as the next person, but gesh, pet dander is a common allergy. I can guarantee you anywhere you want to carry your cat, there is going to be someone there who is allergic.<br />
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here ends my rant concerning cats on planes.<br />
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Phil and I are headed down south to the land of the pines (and yes we did just listen to wagon wheel in the airport ;)<br />
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we're both tired and trying to act like normal humans again, but being a normal person is kindof the abnormal thing to do right now. I keep looking at my calendar. I jump from facebook to email back to facebook and then on to pinterest. Its like I don't know how to let my brain slow down.<br />
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must. consume. more. information.<br />
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this should be interesting...<br />
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putting the laptop away and breaking out my <i>Foreign Affairs</i> magazine for the trip. <br />
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Cheers to holiday travel!Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-23431877823217843202012-12-05T12:35:00.000-05:002012-12-05T12:35:10.210-05:00Keep it Clean. Keep it dry.Of late, its been quite cold with ice and rain, and snow. yeah. yeah. I know I live in Maine. but come on...whata' downer?!<br />
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Today, its 54 degrees and sunny and it feels the same to me as 75 degrees and 'springy'. I needed a spring day.<br />
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spring makes me think of birth and renewal. it makes me breathe deep, breaths of 'clean' air and it smells of hopefulness. And hopefulness is where it's at people .<br />
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This past weekend, Phil and I got new iphones. I've had a basic flip phone that barely 'texted' for the past 8 years. no joke. With the new phone, I've been taking advantage of podcasts on my commutes. Some days I've listened to pathology lectures to try to make the most of my limited study time. But the last two mornings, I've listened to sermons. Tim Keller is a great teacher if you haven't listened to him, then I suggest you do.<br />
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Yesterday, I listened to his sermon <i>Our Work and Our Character</i> (because I was obsessing about my 'work') and today to his <i>The Wounded Spirit</i>. I recommend these to everyone. because we all work. some of us work at home, taking care of children and our communities. some of us teach, passing knowledge on to the next generation, some of us heal so that life can be had fully, and some of us clean. clean tables, clean roads, clean toilets, because we would die without clean things. This is true. without hygiene, we'd bite the dust...<br />
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What I'm getting at is that all work has value and every worker is deserving of dignity for his or her work. And our work is often difficult. it can beat us up at times if we're not careful to remember the truth about work given to us in Holy Scripture.<br />
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On the subject of cleaning--because we all clean <b>something</b> every day...dishes, diapers, debris--as part of our work. Let's talk about the importance of <i>clean</i>. <br />
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Clean.<br />
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Clean mind. clean heart. clean hands.<br />
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Dirt is good, don't get me wrong. but nasty stuff thrives when we don't keep things clean. plain and simple. some of its 'good' nasty stuff. but some of its 'bad' nasty stuff. And that what I'm talking about here.<br />
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Today in a Dermatitis lecture, we addressed all those things that wreak havoc on our skin. If left untreated, they <i>can </i>wreak havoc on our overall health. Fungi and bacteria LOVE warm moist dark environments.<br />
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Taking it back to this spirit-body connection...Don't let your kids' bums be damp and dirty AND don't let your spirit become damp and dirty either. <br />
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Areas of life may be more prone to dampness than others. thats ok. be aware of those areas. and be vigilant. God's word teaches us the truth about dampness and uncleanliness (just read Leviticus! Israel is on top of public health issues!).<br />
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Its time to <i>air it out</i>. expose those dark areas that have been neglected, and give them to <i>the son</i> and let the healing begin--a little 'spring' cleaning if you will ;)<br />
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A general rule of thumb: Keep it clean and keep it dry, friends.<br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-26800666761179123442012-11-15T18:23:00.003-05:002012-11-15T18:23:46.582-05:00Its that time...
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Its Thursday night…and you know what that means…DATE NIGHT!
(at least this week it means date night)…I’m sipping on my beverage waiting in
the Thai restaurant on our block.
Mmm Thai…</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Phil found some Imperial Stouts we’ve not tried before and a
friend of ours brought back some yummy chocolate treats from her weekend hiking
extravaganza in New Hampshire (including our very own chocolate turkey) as a
‘thank-you’ for dog sitting.
Getting paid in chocolate for hanging out with one of the coolest dogs I
know = awesome.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Phil is taking weekend call with preggo ladies and I’ve got
ladies night out with my CMDA girls (Christian Medical and Dental
Association…we get crazy). Oh. And studying. LOTS O’ STUDYING!!! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s that time in the semester where every hour is blocked
off and scheduled on the google calendar and I barely have time to wash my hair
let alone date night my husband and ladies night my friends…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But here’s what I’m learning. You’ve got to make the time. There is so much time that is not utilized in the day. Get up an hour earlier, read for 10
minutes instead of watching your 40-minute TV show. Don’t wash your
hair…because we all know that you look fab no matter how clean your hair is…
(my morning self-pep talk)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life happens.
Assignments get checked off. People get fed. The house gets
cleaned…well, the house gets by. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cherish the simple. Cherish the moment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mind wonders to all the things on the many check lists I
keep -- pink post-its, yellow notepads, and electronic To-Dos…there is plenty to
think about. There always will be.
Even more tempting than the check lists are all the ‘plans’ I have for
the Holidays! I smile just
thinking about cozy sweaters, sweet cookies, and peppermint mocha creamer in my
coffee (thanks Katie Honea Black!)
I think of sweet snuggles with my niece and long talks with family and
friends late into the night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, I breathe. I soak up the ginger and curry spice and
pin back my dirty hair. I concentrate on my 72-year old female that presented
to the clinic with complaints of generalized malaise, cough, congestion, and
foul smelling urine. I think about
her grief after loosing her husband of 34 years to cancer. I try my best to evaluate her case, make the appropriate diagnosis,
and plan her care.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And most importantly, I pray. And I thank God. And I am
humbled. And I’m encouraged. And I’m filled up. And I’m poured out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And my Pad Thai is ready. And it’s time. Time for time with
my man… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-59284340692625163812012-10-13T15:57:00.001-04:002012-10-13T15:57:28.024-04:00life measured by the magnolia tree
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
there’s something about death that makes one distinctly
aware of the experiences of <i>life</i>. The air feels more crisp, the coffee
bolder, the giggles of the baby that much more soulful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning, my mumsy and pops dropped me off early at the
airport, each embracing me twice before I could make it to the curb with my
bags—it was an unexpected trip.
And one that I was not ready to make. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Usually I jump at the opportunity to visit home. family. friends. But this trip was
different. My great Aunt Clara
(Penny, we all called her, a childhood nickname from my great grandfather
Sherman that stuck with her through the years) who was my grandmother’s younger
sister passed away on Sunday. Less
than two weeks before she died, my other great Aunt Estelle also entered into
eternity followed just a few days behind by my grandfather. After putting my Aunt Penny to rest on
Thursday, we got the call later in the evening that my cousin too, had died and
that my Great Uncle Alfred will not be long...Four deaths in three weeks
time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, I’ve come back to <i>life</i>. Assignments, exams, housework, projects
are all still here—waiting patiently (some…not so patiently) for my
attention. But they’re no bother
to me at a time such as now. The sun still glistens
on the last leaves clinging to the trees.
My chest still rises and falls with each lung-full of air I take
in. cars speed by and people carry
on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because life carries on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was talking to my mumsy early on the morning of my Aunt’s
funeral. I woke before her,
started the pot of coffee, set Pandora to Avett Brothers and pulled on a wool
sweater over my scrubs. My mom met
me outside on the front porch in her blue floral nightgown and robe—we shared a
lifetime in that hour of watching the sun rise over the cotton field and
through the great oak that marks our family’s land…the ‘top of the hill’ (as my
pops proudly refers to it). She
told me of how much she had been talking to Aunt Penny lately—how my Aunt was
the one that my mom confided in when my mom was worried over my grandmother’s
progressing Alzheimer’s. My Aunt
Penny was always reading up on alternative treatments and new ‘clinical trials’
that she thought my grandmother would be eligible for. My Aunt Penny made it her mission to
shoulder the burdens of others. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…like the time she took it upon herself to contact my church
pastor about my going to Asia at age seventeen. He told her that I was firm in my belief that God was
telling me to go and do His work among orphans. She told him <i>and</i> my
parents that they should stop me…that <i>they</i>
were responsible for my safety and I would <b>have
to</b> do what they told me to do!!!
They all knew (and she did too) that even when I was told clearly ‘No’,
I did not give up or give in until I was sure I was doing exactly what God
intended for me to do, regardless of the consequences. I’ve changed a lot since age seventeen,
but in this way, my hope is that I’m the same. Thursday morning, after her death, was the first I'd ever heard of my
aunt’s attempt to derail my great adventure into the world—it was her way
of trying to protect me. She <b>loved</b> those she loved. And I love that about her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a kid, I’d play outside in my Aunt Penny’s back
yard. Slippery, waxy magnolia leaves
were the carpet I ran atop, on my way to her hanging grape vines where I’d hide
during our games of hide and seek.
My last visit home was in August when I sat with my grandmother on her
front porch and we planted a mum garden together. My grandmother told me to look at the magnolia tree just
beyond the porch. She said that she could measured her life by that tree…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mum garden we planted together has lost some blossoms. Bright yellow and deep purple buds have
turned to black. Yes, death has made his mark.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But God...He has made flowers to live again! </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-79725151047334148072012-08-29T17:34:00.000-04:002012-08-29T17:34:59.872-04:00Turkish coffee and a garden of MumsI've been really surprised that I've stuck to my routine studying in the midst of visiting my family in North Carolina. Somewhere between long walks down country roads and constant conversation with loved ones, I've managed to carve out at least a couple of hours a day to sip coffee and prepare for boards. And at this pace, its really quite enjoyable. I'm a firm believer that God's plan was for us to avoid idle <i>hands</i> and idle <i>minds</i>. This morning, I had the treat of studying at a Turkish bakery near my parents' home. Turkish coffee and an overcast morning make for the perfect study-sphere! Better yet, I picked up Turkish cake for game night tonight! mmhmm...<br />
<br />
After leaving the bakery, I stopped by the nursery to pick up some potted mums. My grandmother's yard was once known from Virginia to South Carolina. She swears (and so does my mom) that people would drive hours to see her rose garden on sunday afternoons back in the 60s. And I believe it. As soon as we sat down on the front porch, her normally still hands picked up where they left off years ago. She went straight to business, correcting my mistakes along the way--not verbally, rather simply working behind me changing the amount of soil and giving the plants more room. She doesn't have a green thumb...its a multi-colored thumb! She is a colorful woman and one that I will be forever inspired by. <br />
<br />
The planting process seemed to be effective in improving her memory recall; I may have written about it before, but for those who do not know, my grandmother has advanced Alzheimer's/dementia and lucidity is not an everyday occurrence. Today as she planted she spoke to me about family members and things she did as a young woman. She spoke a good deal about her life lately. She pointed to a bird wind-chime that hangs on her porch. She said, "Every morning, I go up to that bird, touch it, and think of Jesus." I told her that birds make me think of the Holy Spirit. And she said "And who does the Holy Spirit always point to?...Jesus!"And then she chuckled her funny little chuckle.<br />
<br />
This is true, grandma, this is true.<br />
<br />
We sipped our cold drinks from tiny glasses and she continued to speaks words of life. She said that she prays everyday that God remove her pain. According to her, most days He does and she is thankful. She said that God continues to speak to her in her dreams. Then she looked directly into my eyes (the same eyes looking back at her) and said, "you have that gift too, don't you? " I said, 'what gift grandma?', "He speaks to you in your dreams because I asked him to right after you were born...I prayed and asked God to always keep you safe and to let you dream dreams...dreams of Him!"<br />
<br />
My dreams <i>are</i> of Him. <br />
<br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-81563286186838956862012-08-20T10:57:00.000-04:002012-08-20T10:57:09.900-04:00two weeksIts 10AM and I'm still sitting on my porch sipping espresso in scrub bottoms and my robe. because I can. the last day of summer session class was thursday. lucky me, my professor had requirements that were due after the last day so I finished the class last night at midnight. <br />
<br />
I woke this morning with the thought. two weeks.<br />
<br />
two weeks to clear my head of the old and prepare for the new. two weeks to force myself to rest and relax. two weeks to study for boards. two weeks to settle the apartment before I'm consumed with the hardest semester of classes in my life--these classes that are the foundation for me to be a health care provider. <br />
<br />
yes. two weeks. <br />
<br />
oh, and did I mention that my two weeks are really condensed into one week. I leave saturday for a trip to N.C. My Dad has taken the entire week off work so we can hike and fish and sit outside at the pub and drink beer and talk about life. My grandmother's white blood count remains high and her primary care provider wants her to see an oncologist. While I'm visiting, I'll be looking into hospice options and plant a mum garden with her. this will also be the first time since her birth that I get some quality aunty time with my newest niece, Mallory. I'm so excited! It also makes me a little sad as I think about how I haven't seen my other 3 nieces since Christmas--children grow and change so much in those early years. I also look forward to some time with my mom and sister--maybe a day trip to the big farmers market and then to my sister's newly discovered Ten Thousand Villages store in Cameron Village.<br />
<br />
Towards the end of the week, I'll be going to my dear friend's wedding in Asheville. Along the way, I hope to be able to meet my mother in law for coffee or a meal--being a person that is deeply connected to family, marrying into such a large family that is spread out has been difficult for me because I want quality time with everyone!! quality time is what I'm running low on. Hopefully our next season will have us closer to our ever growing families that though we are far way from, we love deeply. I'm able to handle the distance better knowing the peace that comes with having family members who know and believe the gospel. Their lives are being made new by following God and walking by His Spirit. There is no greater comfort to the distance than knowing this; Phil and I have this peace with not only both sides of our family, but also with the <i>extended family</i> in which we have have all been grafted in through Christ. Our family that is spread out all of the world!<br />
<br />
What it comes down to is this, wherever I am and with whoever I'm with, I want to be fully present. always. I know that this trip will include time with family and friends that I haven't seen in a long time. time with some whose lives have changed drastically since the last we were together. <br />
<br />
The other night as I was falling to sleep, I was praying and asking God to help me see souls as He sees them. This is my prayer for every encounter--whether family member, or old friend, or patient, or the person at the check-out. May the people around me sense the love God has for them and the love that God has given me <i>for them</i>.<br />
<br />
two weeks.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>God, multiply my time exponentially; may I walk in the way that you have gone out before me and prepared; may I make the most of every encounter, not forsaking the day, the conversation, and the relationships you have given me. May we all delight in your Word and joy in your Spirit both now and always.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-10355678883499506422012-07-17T14:55:00.000-04:002012-07-17T14:55:45.639-04:00these dogged days of summerwhen all else fails, it's time to write!<br />
<br />
its been several weeks coming, but I think I have reached my max. I'm tired. I'm burned out. I'm anxious and don't sleep well.<br />
<br />
I haven't had a real 'break' in school since Christmas. The sad thing is, I have only just realized that I won't get a real break until this upcoming Christmas--juggling classes, boards, LIFE. I like to have a class, take the final, and be done. have a break and start something new. We have literally had 2-3 days before starting our next round of classes each semester and that has conveniently fallen on a weekend. I know that sounds silly...I'm thinking to myself as I write, big deal...lots of people don't get 'breaks'. I think about all of you juggling your many things...family, careers, etc. <br />
<br />
I have to ask myself. is this right? are we doing this <i>right?</i> Is this what God intended for us?<br />
<br />
this is the first time in my life that I have consistently had to learn and apply new information on almost a daily basis. the amount of information itself is daunting, but when I think about its application in my patients lives and in my life, it seems unsurmountable. <br />
<br />
again. this overwhelming sense of weakness and inadequacy creeps into my thoughts. my spirit feels unsettled. I think i may be experiencing my first 'stress' ulcer. ugh.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I try to find glimpses of hope--a spur of the moment trip to a nearby beach. new rocks to climb and new shifting sands to explore...sounds lovely, right?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">yeah...then that anxiety finds its way to make itself known even in those beautiful moments on the beach. I let the presence of seagulls inching their way towards my trail mix distress me (i really don't like birds...birds are my new 'dislike'. why? I have no idea. maybe because they're loud. or dirty. or have beady little eyes that remind me of someone that I use to know. I can't say. I just dont like them.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I pull out research articles and highlighters and have to look down on the black and white sheets instead of the evergreen tree line and various hues of blue that paint the canvass beyond my lap and the scope of my reading glasses (I feel like my eyesight is declining with each class...seriously) </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">In the past I have thought of myself as a rock. I'm grounded. I'm <i>cool</i> and calm at night and absorb the sun's warm rays during the day.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I think about how God quenched thirst through a rock in the desert. I like to think that I am a rock--a vessel for which God uses to provide life water to the people.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I laughed as I just typed that. </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">right now, I feel like a dry rock. like a pebble that might be, in the right wind conditions, blown a ways down the foot path in the woods. I feel like my 'solidness' as been chiseled away at. and not in the good way that God chisels us, but in the harsh weathered way...the way the cares of this world chisel away at us.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">and thats where I'm at. my mind hurts. my heart is kind of blah. I'm leaning on others--like my husband who is faithful and true and loves the Lord and loves people. And I love that in him. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">and here I am. dry. beat up. weak. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">-------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">This morning on my drive into Portland I was listening to some southern preacher man. God bless those southern preacher men...they always make me laugh. Well today, as I sat in traffic, tired and worn out before my day had really begun, he closed his talk with the story of Paul and God's response to Paul's prayers. He said that when we pray, we expect one of three answers #1 </span><span style="background-color: white;">Yes #2 </span><span style="background-color: white;">No or #3 </span><span style="background-color: white;">Wait!</span><span style="background-color: white;">(where some of these southern preacher men get the content for their messages is beyond me...it's not always biblical, but thats another rant for another day!) </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
The preacher man went on to say that Paul received God's #4 answer. and it went like this...<br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><i>But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And thats where I'm at. T-5 days until we leave for a medical mission trip to Mexico. I'm a dried up, blown around pebble--annoyed with the birds and with no mental, physical, or spiritual reserves to speak of. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His grace is sufficient. even for me. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-64162946581851480952012-06-24T09:03:00.003-04:002012-06-24T09:03:53.650-04:00Honea HeartAt the end of May, I attended a medical mission conference in Nashville Tennessee where the focus was health care delivery to the uninsured and under-insured...and how Christians (of all people) are leading the way in a <i>true</i> health care reform.<br />
<br />
During the conference, I stayed with some dear friends--Parker, Ninfa, and their lovely Mechecita. They (along with some other 120 believers) live in an intentional christian community in Nashville where their vision is as follows...<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">
<i>Our community is being equipped to meet the challenges faced by the poor and marginalized by developing capacity in our members to act as agents of education, advocacy and empowerment. In other words, our people are being trained to be educators, advocates and administrators. Educators, in the holistic sense, regarding health (both physical and mental), agriculture, technology, ethics and sociology. Advocates to come alongside those who need a voice in those same arenas of need. Administrators, to facilitate the development of such agencies to be self-sustaining, empowering the people to experience a healthy inter-dependence where they take care of themselves.</i></div>
(learn more about them at <a href="http://godinternational.org/home/">http://godinternational.org/home/</a>)<br />
<br />
Interestingly enough, God has been showing Himself and His heart for the poor and marginalized (in both this country and abroad) to me lately in almost every facet of my life right now. <br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">School</i>--My first course in my advanced practice nursing degree was on policy, leadership, and role of the advanced practice nurse. Historically, nurses were those who reached out to the poor and underserved when other health care professionals would not. Nurses like Lillian Wald, founder of the Henry Street Settlement, who saw it as both her moral and social responsibility to advocate and serve children, labor, immigrants, civil and women's rights (<a href="http://www.henrystreet.org/about/history/">http://www.henrystreet.org/about/history/</a>). The marginalized of her day are still the marginalized of ours. <br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The further I go in this profession, the more clearly I see why God directed my steps down this path instead of others.</span><br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Home--</i>Phillip (my dear husband) has finished his second year of medical school (and his frist step boards) and will be starting 3rd year rotations in a hospital in central maine. We currently live in southern maine, and have been looking to move closer to his site for a few months now. Up until the time of the conference, we were considering moving to another quaint and friendly coastal town and commuting to our perspective sites from there. During the course of the 3-day conference, the Lord showed me that He had plans that were much bigger and brighter than mine. <br />
<br />
This week, Phil and I signed the lease to our 3rd apartment since being married. We are now moving to Lewiston Maine--home to many poor and marginalized including a growing Somali population. Please watch the youtube video for more information. <br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0g-h_aL458">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0g-h_aL458</a><br />
<br />
Racism, discrimination, poverty, drugs, human trafficking, homelessness, educational and health care disparities are very real issues in our new community. <br />
<br />
we move <i>home</i> next weekend.<br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-84813415641418735522012-06-09T10:25:00.000-04:002012-06-09T15:24:49.262-04:00The Latest!Well, where to begin? so much is going on with us this summer and the Lord is truly leading us in paths we never imagined (you're hooked aren't you!?) <br />
<br />
I will tell you all about it...SOON! but as for now, we are getting organized and ready for our upcoming trip to Monterrey, Mexico July 21-28.<br />
<br />
you'll find all the information about our trip below in the official letter. You can also <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://donations.mtw.org/donate/AddDesignation.aspx?No=13368">DONATE ONLINE</a> </span>(for your convenience ;) oh! and don't be discouraged about the weird statement that you can't give a personal donation with your credit card...that doesn't apply to us--just follow the steps. its secure. its easy. enough said?!<br />
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we hope that, as always, you all will partner with us in prayer. I cannot stress this enough. If you attend a church--put us on the prayer list. If you attend a bible study or small group, lift us up during the prayer time. If you meet your lady (or man) friends for tea/coffee/wine/beer, pray with them! ...I think you get the point :)<br />
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Feel free to contact me directly (<a href="mailto:carroll.samantha@gmail.com">carroll.samantha@gmail.com</a>) if you should want a pdf version to print to go on the back table at your church or to mail to all your relatives (you know, because people do that...)<br />
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anyhow, we love you all and ask that you take up the mission along side of us sharing both physical and spiritual healing to the nations...<br />
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Sam (and Phil) Honea<br />
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p.s. if you have difficulty seeing the support letter, simply download it and enhance it (zoom in...) according to my 'techy' husband <3<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pvn5qPb1kO9qakrfxZgUWe0WZORNCGk3tKpRjznHkaqrdv3Jz1_H4TsPBO2beTWxwcJU4Um86JolirNafS-XlHoZawjS1oXL0bfFBmsQdGn1jfdlI7z4g6KSCb1vJO7q8z9Mo1jZJ70/s1600/SupportLetter_June2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pvn5qPb1kO9qakrfxZgUWe0WZORNCGk3tKpRjznHkaqrdv3Jz1_H4TsPBO2beTWxwcJU4Um86JolirNafS-XlHoZawjS1oXL0bfFBmsQdGn1jfdlI7z4g6KSCb1vJO7q8z9Mo1jZJ70/s640/SupportLetter_June2012.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252540483528355014.post-36644689052417928542012-05-22T13:06:00.001-04:002012-05-22T13:14:02.334-04:00Eastern Mind. Western Heart. Northern Adventure. Southern Home.<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Lucida grande', Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Western logic and reason has never really felt quite right to me. I thrive at a different pace and in a different state of mind; I will meet you tomorrow for tea and we can talk...'What time and for how long?' the West asks, 'Tomorrow for tea' responds the East. </span><br />
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My heart grew up in the mountains. I summered in Appalachia as a kid and took my first steps into adulthood always facing West, away from family and familiarity because there are some things that one must do alone. </div>
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The wild and beautiful North has always whispered invitations to adventure and uncharted waters. And I tend to like evergreens and sweaters. And my husband. He <i>is</i> old man, North.</div>
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Live oaks and muddy river banks will always be home--where I come from and always an easy return. Warm breezes and cold drinks on the front porch because the truth be known...I've never met a stranger. My southern home is always open. Much like my life. </div>
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The invitation is everlasting. </div>Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09697224302301989715noreply@blogger.com2