<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800</id><updated>2012-01-18T21:52:58.696-06:00</updated><category term='Gabrielle Giffords'/><category term='single dads'/><category term='God&apos;s voice'/><category term='accepting singleness'/><category term='singles and the holidays'/><category term='God moving in our lives'/><category term='petroleum-based products'/><category term='senior dating services'/><category term='witnessing'/><category term='singles overwhelmed'/><category term='community'/><category term='guest post'/><category term='my secret celebrity crush'/><category term='Open doors'/><category term='resolution'/><category term='Mary and Martha'/><category term='quest for perfection'/><category term='expectations'/><category term='freedom in Christ'/><category term='truth'/><category term='Holy Week'/><category term='consumers'/><category term='separated'/><category term='Nativity'/><category term='Sunday'/><category term='Bible'/><category term='love our neighbors'/><category term='online relationships'/><category term='making new friends'/><category term='Palm Sunday'/><category term='eHarmony'/><category term='weddings'/><category term='sin'/><category term='Gender and Scripture'/><category term='God&apos;s love'/><category term='elationships'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Lady Bloggers Society'/><category term='environmental disaster'/><category term='singles events for all ages'/><category term='Elizabeth Edwards'/><category term='remembering'/><category term='blogs to visit'/><category term='single men in the church'/><category term='love God'/><category term='it&apos;s complicated'/><category term='trusting God'/><category term='Body of Christ'/><category term='marital status'/><category term='sacrifice'/><category term='2 Chronicles 7:14'/><category term='Christmas trees'/><category term='middle-aged'/><category term='God working within us'/><category term='singleness and ministry'/><category term='weight'/><category term='middle-aged singleness'/><category term='evangelism'/><category term='assassination'/><category term='childhood memories'/><category term='God&apos;s revelation'/><category term='honoring Christ'/><category term='saints'/><category term='church family'/><category term='Facebook relationships'/><category term='role-models'/><category term='Julie Ferwerda'/><category term='Eve&apos;s sin'/><category term='alone for the holidays'/><category term='Thanksgiving'/><category term='singles and extramarital affairs'/><category term='Sandra Day O&apos;Connor'/><category term='Singles and Mothers Day'/><category term='contentment'/><category term='high school reunions'/><category term='singles and couples'/><category term='Laura Ingalls Wilder'/><category term='Messages from God'/><category term='popular girls'/><category term='married vs. single'/><category term='Christmas sweaters'/><category term='singles in the Bible'/><category term='name-calling'/><category term='singles and the church'/><category term='tsunami'/><category term='stepparents'/><category term='Facebook'/><category term='miracles'/><category term='hole to hell'/><category term='historic events'/><category term='witness muggings'/><category term='drive-in theatres'/><category term='disasters'/><category term='Adam and Eve'/><category term='blog on singleness'/><category term='gift of singleness'/><category term='music'/><category term='singles decorating for holidays'/><category term='oil spill'/><category term='Summer plans'/><category term='fears'/><category term='fighting'/><category term='Alec Baldwin'/><category term='speaking up'/><category term='adultery'/><category term='The Fall of Man'/><category term='mom friends'/><category term='Single at Christmas'/><category term='single Christian'/><category term='writing'/><category term='Fake Magazine Cover'/><category term='Loving your neighbor'/><category term='Facebook relationship etiquette'/><category term='singles and marriage'/><category term='Reminders of God&apos;s Faithfulness'/><category term='singles in the church'/><category term='changing seasons'/><category term='Good Friday'/><category term='Christians and sexual abstinence'/><category term='Andy Taylor'/><category term='Christmas music'/><category term='favorite child'/><category term='advice for singles'/><category term='crucifixion'/><category term='childlessness'/><category term='witnessing badly'/><category term='Things I look for in a man'/><category term='Singles Sunday school'/><category term='forwarding emails'/><category term='Civil Rights'/><category term='freedom'/><category term='Singles and Fathers Day'/><category term='stepchildren'/><category term='Proverbs 31'/><category term='worship'/><category term='singleness vs. marriage'/><category term='Cognitive Dissonance Day'/><category term='including singles in the church'/><category term='Faith'/><category term='Jesus'/><category term='carols'/><category term='singles and God&apos;s plan'/><category term='Great Commission'/><category term='humor'/><category term='vanity'/><category term='Christmas controversy'/><category term='center ground'/><category term='racism'/><category term='Singles and Christmas'/><category term='singles and children'/><category term='separation'/><category term='alone'/><category term='grief'/><category term='gratitude'/><category term='Maundy Thursday'/><category term='God&apos;s timing'/><category term='Memorial Day'/><category term='flying'/><category term='Jesus and singles'/><category term='Paul Reiser'/><category term='make disciples'/><category term='single pastors'/><category term='Noah Wyle'/><category term='patience'/><category term='Writer&apos;s Workshop'/><category term='alone for Thanksgiving'/><category term='resurrection'/><category term='book review'/><category term='confession'/><category term='single on Valentine&apos;s Day'/><category term='Easter'/><category term='royalty'/><category term='relationship status'/><category term='loneliest day'/><category term='singles and marrieds'/><category term='brush with fame'/><category term='singles and weddings'/><category term='armed forces'/><category term='bearing one another&apos;s burdens'/><category term='singles serving'/><category term='I Heart the Bells on Christmas Day'/><category term='change'/><category term='healing laughter'/><category term='Hearing God'/><category term='environment'/><category term='my job'/><category term='worrying'/><category term='aging'/><category term='Christian'/><category term='encouraging one another'/><category term='earthquake'/><category term='children and Christmas'/><category term='helpful hint'/><category term='Encouragement from God'/><category term='Questions for Mary'/><category term='Christian radio'/><category term='high school'/><category term='discernment'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='feuding couples'/><category term='fear of the Lord'/><category term='driving'/><category term='renewing friendships'/><category term='God things'/><category term='single adults and the church'/><category term='Victoria Principal'/><category term='stereotypes and marrieds'/><category term='prayer'/><category term='pet peeves'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='single'/><category term='Creation'/><category term='stereotypes and singles'/><category term='singleness'/><category term='singles and the future'/><category term='allergies'/><category term='When Harry Met Sally'/><category term='generations'/><category term='hope in difficult times'/><title type='text'>Single and Sane</title><subtitle type='html'>Singleness, faith, and life lead to 
topics that are sometimes serious, 
sometimes humorous, but (hopefully) 
always encouraging and thought-provoking.  

Single &amp;amp; Sane isn&amp;#39;t just for singles!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>167</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-9210186111063989485</id><published>2012-01-05T22:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:34:03.419-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Fall of Man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam and Eve'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eve&apos;s sin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Creation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gender and Scripture'/><title type='text'>It's Not All About Eve</title><content type='html'>I'm tired of taking the rap for Eve. Heck, her husband - who was up to his neck in her deed - wasn't willing to take the rap for her. When God confronted Adam and Eve after they had eaten the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, Adam's response was, "&lt;i&gt;The woman you put here with me -- she gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it&lt;/i&gt;." Don't get me started on Adam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I think for a minute that I would have done any better than either one of them. I know better than that. It's the insinuation by some that the Fall of Man was more Eve's fault than Adam's, when I think the Bible teaches that it was the result of the predilection we &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;have for rebellion against God. It's the implication by too many that Adam would not have been so easily persuaded by the serpent that offends me. Even if not &lt;i&gt;directly &lt;/i&gt;by the serpent, wasn't Adam just as easy to persuade to rebel against God as Eve was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of those things for which I intend to have a chat with Paul when we all get to heaven. Just what did he mean in I Timothy 2:14* when he wrote, &amp;nbsp;"&lt;i&gt;And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner&lt;/i&gt;"? So what is he saying? Surely he's not implying that Adam didn't become a sinner because that wouldn't be right. Excuse me, but we don't call it the "Fall of Woman".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We each have a certain amount of cultural conditioning to overcome in our walk with Christ, and Paul surely had a boatload, what with having been a Pharisee and all. Maybe he was guilty of what we Baptists call backsliding when he wrote that verse because it doesn't seem to line up with Genesis 3. More likely, I think that he was well aware that he was writing to people who were new Christians, and who, like Paul, came from a religious background that placed emphasis on following Mosaic law.&amp;nbsp;They didn't have the experience of decades of following Christ in their own spiritual walk. They didn't have the example multiple generations before them who modeled Christlike behavior. They didn't have the benefit of 2,000 years of faithful Christians who had studied the New Testament scriptures and written books and hymns about God's unfathomable grace. For that matter, beyond whatever letters each church had received and/or shared, they didn't even have a New Testament. Many of those early Christians had legalistic baggage they had not yet learned to let go of and more importantly, they lived in a culture that was immersed in that same legalistic baggage. Paul knew his audience in the early churches, and he knew the minds of those who had not yet come to Christ. I think Paul didn't want his words to become a stumbling block to a culture that had enough trouble grasping that God's grace was extended to Gentiles as well as to Jews; never mind trying to explain that God's grace covered women as well as men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even so, I always took the words of I Timothy 2 blaming Eve for the Fall of Man for granted because after all, Eve &lt;i&gt;did &lt;/i&gt;take that first bite. There's no getting around that. But then I&amp;nbsp;had an "aha" moment earlier this year when I was reading Genesis. I'm visual, and whenever I think of the Fall, I always picture an image of Eve talking to the serpent that came from the teacher's packet in my first grade Sunday school class. It looked something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ6ButhYP04/TwZfR5WpB_I/AAAAAAAAA1c/FeXg_9IbJuY/s1600/genesis3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ6ButhYP04/TwZfR5WpB_I/AAAAAAAAA1c/FeXg_9IbJuY/s1600/genesis3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Naturally, Eve is prominent in the illustration, as is the serpent, and there's that&amp;nbsp;&lt;strike&gt;smoking gun&lt;/strike&gt; fruit in her hand. You'll also notice that Adam is nowhere to be found. That's why I had always pictured Adam coming home from a hard day's work tending the garden to find Eve wiping fruit juice from her lips. But in reading Genesis again this past summer, something jumped out at me that in all of my previous readings had never fully registered. &lt;i&gt;Adam was with Eve&lt;/i&gt; when she took the bite out of the fruit. How had I missed that? Following the conversation with the serpent, Genesis 3:6-7 says, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idQ7fHu586U/TwZ175vupAI/AAAAAAAAA1o/JB6NBNmpDzI/s1600/adam+and+eve.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-idQ7fHu586U/TwZ175vupAI/AAAAAAAAA1o/JB6NBNmpDzI/s1600/adam+and+eve.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Microsoft Clip Art&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. &lt;b&gt;She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. &lt;/b&gt;Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's not clear if Adam was around for the serpent's spiel, but it &lt;b&gt;is&lt;/b&gt; clear from Genesis 2 that before Eve was formed, God directly told Adam not to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:16-17 says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So I have to wonder, what was Adam thinking when he saw Eve reach for the fruit? Was he curious, too? Had he been tempted to eat the fruit himself? &amp;nbsp;Did he fully comprehend the meaning of death? Did he think it was something from which you could recover?&amp;nbsp;In that split second, did he decide to use Eve as his food taster just to see what would happen?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;If Eve's sin was the first sin of commission, Adam's was the first sin of omission. &lt;b&gt;They occurred simultaneously. &lt;/b&gt;And if those who believe that a gender hierarchy was in place from the very beginning of Creation are correct, then it could be argued that Eve's sin was not the first -- that it was Adam's failure to &lt;b&gt;stop &lt;/b&gt;Eve from eating the fruit that was actually the first sin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The death that Adam and Eve experienced did not come in a physical way the day they sinned. Theirs was a slow death, one that began with expulsion from the Garden. We live in a fallen world today not just because of the&amp;nbsp;failure of Adam and Eve to obey God, but because of all the ways &lt;i&gt;each of us &lt;/i&gt;continues to&amp;nbsp;rebel against Him. The Fall of Man isn't about Eve's sin. The Fall of Man(kind) is about OUR sins -- the sins of men and women, alike.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;There are lots of things about scripture I don't understand but &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;I know: despite the fallen world in which we live, the God who forgives me my sins is not still holding Eve's sins against me. That's because my Savior paid for Eve's sins the same day He paid for mine. That's the power of Christ's sacrifice. That's the power of God's grace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Until next time,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;This righteousness is given through faith in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. ~ Romans 3:22-24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Revised when I reread this after posting and realized that on a roll, I had inexplicably typed I Peter (not once, but &lt;i&gt;twice&lt;/i&gt;) instead of I Timothy. As the governor of my native state would say, "Oops."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-9210186111063989485?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/9210186111063989485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-not-all-about-eve.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/9210186111063989485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/9210186111063989485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-not-all-about-eve.html' title='It&apos;s Not All About Eve'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ6ButhYP04/TwZfR5WpB_I/AAAAAAAAA1c/FeXg_9IbJuY/s72-c/genesis3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2311689173511282513</id><published>2011-12-22T07:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T14:39:20.126-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas music'/><title type='text'>I Have Seen the Light!</title><content type='html'>As I mentioned a few posts &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/angels-and-men-rejoice.html" target="_blank"&gt;back&lt;/a&gt;, I have been listening to Christmas music since Halloween because I need a couple of months to hear everything I want to hear..and I want to hear everything more than once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I realized I had not yet heard one of my favorites, &lt;i&gt;I Have Seen the Light&lt;/i&gt;. One of the things I love about this song is that it's written for men's voices. So often it seems that men at church don't like to sing so I like the encouragement men's voices lend to the guys in the congregation. That and it has a beat a girl could dance to, and listening to it makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a wonderful version on YouTube. I tried to find one from a Living Christmas Tree because my church had one for years and if you've never seen one, it's a sight to behold. There were several of those, but my &lt;i&gt;favorite &lt;/i&gt;version didn't have a tree - it's just fabulous voices from Hunter Street Baptist Church in Hoover, Alabama.&amp;nbsp;(If you look at the background, you'll even see that Baptist choir swaying to the music.)&amp;nbsp;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BC8rzT_Fqos" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtu.be/BC8rzT_Fqos"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;http://youtu.be/BC8rzT_Fqos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Have a wonderful Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  ~ John 8:12 (NIV)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2311689173511282513?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2311689173511282513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-have-seen-light.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2311689173511282513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2311689173511282513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-have-seen-light.html' title='I Have Seen the Light!'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/BC8rzT_Fqos/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1771390727665382590</id><published>2011-12-20T14:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T14:06:04.122-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Expecting the Unexpected</title><content type='html'>God doesn't color inside the lines. You know how I know that? Because He chose to use a girl to bring his plan to save the world to fruition. There was nothing about Mary's station in life to qualify her for such a position. She wasn't just a girl, she was a &lt;i&gt;teenager &lt;/i&gt;for crying out loud. She was poor. She was betrothed, but not yet married. Her family had no influence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary was the last person anyone would have expected God to use in such a miraculous fashion, yet she was an integral part of His plan. Religious leaders of the day certainly weren't looking for an unwed teenage mother to deliver the Child through whom the entire world could find deliverance. Despite the prophecies, they weren't looking for an infant in Bethlehem. Their preconceptions about who God could use led them to miss the Messiah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were exceptions, of course. The shepherds who were out minding their own business were easy converts when an angel showed up with a story to tell, soon accompanied by a heavenly host praising God. There were also devoted servants of God who understood the prophecies and who immediately recognized Jesus for who He was when He was just a few weeks old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Luke 2:25-38:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dLAx6PrPHc/TuldKEBNpYI/AAAAAAAAAyE/yv4-6vQFQ68/s1600/Mary.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dLAx6PrPHc/TuldKEBNpYI/AAAAAAAAAyE/yv4-6vQFQ68/s200/Mary.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: Microsoft Clip Art&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The child’s father and mother marveled at what was said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem. (NIV)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simeon and Anna&amp;nbsp;recognized God's handiwork, even when He colored outside the lines.&amp;nbsp;They understood that it's not our job to tell God who He can use, or how He can act. They understood that when God says that something will happen, it &lt;i&gt;will &lt;/i&gt;happen, even if His methods don't make sense. They understood that when it comes to God, you have to expect the unexpected...especially if He's already told you exactly what He's going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; (God with us)&lt;/i&gt;. ~ Isaiah 7:14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1771390727665382590?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1771390727665382590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/expecting-unexpected.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1771390727665382590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1771390727665382590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/expecting-unexpected.html' title='Expecting the Unexpected'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dLAx6PrPHc/TuldKEBNpYI/AAAAAAAAAyE/yv4-6vQFQ68/s72-c/Mary.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7317147491153715149</id><published>2011-12-17T07:00:00.033-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T11:56:42.105-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas sweaters'/><title type='text'>In the Eye of the Beholder</title><content type='html'>I have a confession. I &lt;i&gt;adore &lt;/i&gt;Christmas sweaters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know. Popular opinion has deemed them ugly, &lt;i&gt;tacky &lt;/i&gt;even. I blame the GenXers and Millennials who put them in the same category as mom jeans. They'll never know how fun it was to dress as gaudy as you pleased for 3 weeks out of the year without looking like a hooker. What's next? Are they going to tell me that Santa's not real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll concede that a lot of Christmas sweaters are quite ugly. As for tacky, well, I'll give you that one, too. That's precisely their appeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qUHc3sOEVag/Tuvk5PwcoII/AAAAAAAAAyY/u2ymK2B2uqg/s1600/Christmas+Tinsel+Tree1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qUHc3sOEVag/Tuvk5PwcoII/AAAAAAAAAyY/u2ymK2B2uqg/s200/Christmas+Tinsel+Tree1.jpg" width="101" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Maybe it's the same reason I'm drawn to pink&amp;nbsp;flamingos (I don't own any, mind you) and pink tinsel Christmas trees. (It's just possible that I have a &lt;i&gt;small&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;pink tinsel tree. Just ignore the picture on the right.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until the War on Christmas Sweaters was launched, I never had a problem wearing a Christmas sweater in public. I didn't feel as bad if I hadn't put my tree up (the regular green variety) if I could &lt;i&gt;personally &lt;/i&gt;be bedecked and bedazzled. Now if I wear a Christmas sweater, I'm afraid I look like the eccentric old aunt that no one wants to claim. &lt;i&gt;Sigh&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savannah Guthrie did a story on ugly Christmas sweaters this week and I actually own one of the sweaters she featured during a trip to a thrift store. (It's the green one that Savannah deems "pretty" in the video. I suspect that means her crazy old aunt has the same sweater.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=10,0,0,0" height="245" id="msnbc48cc85" width="420"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640" /&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="launch=45666647&amp;amp;width=420&amp;amp;height=245" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent" /&gt;&lt;embed name="msnbc48cc85" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640" width="420" height="245" FlashVars="launch=45666647&amp;amp;width=420&amp;amp;height=245" allowscriptaccess="always" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/shockwave/download/download.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://allday.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/12/14/9439521-anchors-don-ugly-christmas-sweaters-whose-was-the-worst"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;http://allday.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/12/14/9439521-anchors-don-ugly-christmas-sweaters-whose-was-the-worst&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I particularly liked the one Matt Damon put on, although viewers voted it the ugliest of all in a poll, which I would like to stress was &lt;i&gt;non-scientific&lt;/i&gt;. It was cuter on Savannah when she wore it to deliver fruitcake to Brian Williams but it really wasn't the best look for Matt. (The striped tie is the crowning touch.) Despite its ranking in the poll, I think it would make an &lt;i&gt;adorable &lt;/i&gt;Christmas pillow. It would look so cute with the pink tinsel tree that I may or may not own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvD0BB3K8sM/TuquuMlupOI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/PDe6oX2Pmdk/s1600/matt+damon+christmas+sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvD0BB3K8sM/TuquuMlupOI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/PDe6oX2Pmdk/s320/matt+damon+christmas+sweater.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://allday.today.msnbc.msn.com/" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;http://allday.today.msnbc.msn.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I will no longer embarrass my family by wearing them, my Christmas sweaters are all in a corner of my closet, waiting for a Tacky Christmas Sweater Party excuse to come out and see the light of day. And since everything comes back sooner or later, their day will surely come again. If not, I'll eventually become old enough and eccentric enough that my nieces and nephews will just have to deal with having an aunt who wants to look like a bloomin' Christmas tree. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“The L&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ORD&lt;/span&gt; does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the L&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ORD&lt;/span&gt; looks at the heart.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;~ I Samuel 16:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7317147491153715149?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7317147491153715149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-eye-of-beholder.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7317147491153715149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7317147491153715149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-eye-of-beholder.html' title='In the Eye of the Beholder'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qUHc3sOEVag/Tuvk5PwcoII/AAAAAAAAAyY/u2ymK2B2uqg/s72-c/Christmas+Tinsel+Tree1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4146898616869286460</id><published>2011-12-14T19:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T19:10:23.476-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I Heart the Bells on Christmas Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope in difficult times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Hope: To Expect With Confidence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"&gt;"Hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace that God gives us to control our fears, not to oust them." ~ Vincent McNabb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder if our collective memories are all shot. We seem to have forgotten much of our (relatively) recent history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exhibit A: &amp;nbsp;Readers of &lt;i&gt;Men's Health&lt;/i&gt; magazine recently voted Jennifer Aniston &amp;nbsp;"&lt;a href="http://www.menshealth.com/sex-women/hottest-women-all-time" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Hottest Woman of All Time&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;". &lt;i&gt;All time???&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;OK, it turns out that they only included women who had been photographed, but still, it seems that Jen beat out a lot of other women from decades past. I will confess that I found a certain satisfaction on Jennifer's behalf when I saw that she had garnered the Number 1 spot while Angelina Jolie came in at Number 10. Then I realized that Madonna came in at Number 5, further evidence that I have no earthly idea what men find appealing. It's not that I begrudge Jennifer Aniston's placement at the top of the poll but I wonder if it's a sign that the men who voted have frightfully short memories...or maybe they are all just &lt;i&gt;very &lt;/i&gt;young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see evidence of our short memories everywhere. I see it in the endless political polls. I see it in fashion. (Five inch heels will mess up your feet in ways you've never imagined, they're bad for your knees, and we've known these things about five inch heels for a &lt;i&gt;long, long&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;time.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People seem to be particularly downcast these days and as the effects of the recession linger on, many seem to think things are the worst they've ever been. Christmas is just a few days away, and it seems that far too many people are filled with despair. It's more than the economy. It's the sense that we don't quite know what our place is in a rapidly changing world. There is fear for the future. There are people who are convinced that things have never been this bad when the truth is that there have been times that were &lt;i&gt;far &lt;/i&gt;worse, and yet people got through them largely because they never quit dreaming of a brighter future. They&amp;nbsp;never gave up hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how my paternal grandparents dealt with the worst period of their lives. Beginning shortly after Pearl Harbor, they watched as all of their sons and some sons-in-law left home to fight in World War II. They faced Christmas of 1944 with the realization that their oldest son would never come home and undoubtedly feared for the safety of their remaining sons. It was the most painful loss that any parent can experience and I'm sure they felt the full depth of that pain with every breath. If hope was gone for them that Christmas, it would return as their faith played a significant role in leading them to find hope and healing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yz8-Kjwrf_8/TugRUxcc3AI/AAAAAAAAAx8/KSN7okObqeA/s1600/stocking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yz8-Kjwrf_8/TugRUxcc3AI/AAAAAAAAAx8/KSN7okObqeA/s200/stocking.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;All four of my grandparents struggled to raise their families during the Great Depression. They went through year after year of lean times. Any gifts were modest, and each Christmas the stockings were filled with fruit and a few pecans. They felt blessed, never giving up hope that things &lt;u&gt;would&lt;/u&gt; get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their own grandparents had lived through what were truly the darkest days of our nation's history, a time when we were at war against ourselves. As I write this post, there is a Victorian loveseat just a few feet away from me that was in&amp;nbsp;my great-great-grandparents'&amp;nbsp;&lt;strike&gt;living room&lt;/strike&gt; parlor during the Civil War. I wonder what their feelings were as they sat on that loveseat...were they filled with hope, or did they feel despair? Did they turn to God for comfort, or were they consumed by fear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The journal of poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow makes it clear that he was filled with despair during those years. Shortly after the war began, Henry lost his wife when her dress caught fire and she was soon consumed by the flames. That Christmas he wrote in his journal, "How&amp;nbsp;inexpressibly&amp;nbsp;sad are all holidays." The next Christmas, in 1862, he wrote, "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me." &amp;nbsp;There was no entry for Christmas of 1863. Not long before that Christmas, Longfellow had received the news that his eldest son had been injured in the war. Perhaps it was because Lt. Charles Longfellow survived his injuries, but by Christmas of 1864, Henry was evidently feeling more optimistic. That was they year&amp;nbsp;that Longfellow wrote a poem that has become a favorite for many,&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Christmas Bells&lt;/i&gt;. &amp;nbsp;In 1872, John Baptiste Calkin set the poem to music, deleting verses specific to the Civil War. Today, we know the poem as&lt;i&gt; I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the poem with all seven of the original verses. It echoes the ups and downs of Longfellow's life and his reflections on the war, ending with that glorious verse brimming over with hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Christmas Bells&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Henry Wadsworth Longfellow&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;I heard the bells on Christmas Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Their old familiar carols play,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And wild and sweet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The words repeat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And thought how, as the day had come,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The belfries of all Christendom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Had rolled along&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The unbroken song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Till, ringing, singing on its way,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The world revolved from night to day,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;A voice, a chime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;A chant sublime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Then from each black accursed mouth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The cannon thundered in the South,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And with the sound&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The carols drowned&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;It was as if an earthquake rent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The hearth-stones of a continent,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And made forlorn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The households born&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;"There is no peace on earth," I said;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;"For hate is strong,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;And mocks the song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The Wrong shall fail,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;The Right prevail,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;With peace on earth, good-will to men!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The last verse is one of my favorite verses of any hymn. "Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 'God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!'" May those words encourage anyone who looks to the future with trepidation to remember that God &lt;i&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;in control, and that with Him there is &lt;i&gt;always &lt;/i&gt;hope for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified...for the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ORD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt; your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;~ &lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Deuteronomy 31:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ORD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;~ Jeremiah 29:11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4146898616869286460?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4146898616869286460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/hope-to-expect-with-confidence.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4146898616869286460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4146898616869286460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/hope-to-expect-with-confidence.html' title='Hope: To Expect With Confidence'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yz8-Kjwrf_8/TugRUxcc3AI/AAAAAAAAAx8/KSN7okObqeA/s72-c/stocking.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2700892866185852381</id><published>2011-12-07T19:30:00.014-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T21:01:36.254-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas controversy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='evangelism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alone for the holidays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='honoring Christ'/><title type='text'>It's Not the Name That Matters</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, and not all that long ago, "the holidays" referred to the period from Thanksgiving to New Year's. It was the stuff of which movies and songs were made. We looked forward to watching "Holiday Inn" on TV and we listened to Steve and Edie sing, "Happy Holidays". We openly wished our friends, "Happy Holidays!" as often as we said, "Merry Christmas!" and we didn't feel a need to apologize for either greeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all understood that for many of us, the most important holiday in the aforementioned period was Christmas but we didn't feel a need to make it an issue because we also understood that everyone was not a Christian. Then something happened. Someone decided that the word "holiday" was an assault on Christianity and they found lots of people who agreed, that yes, that's what it was...an assault on Christianity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year the debate over the use of the H-word brought national attention to my hometown.&amp;nbsp;It all started when one of our US Senators decided he would not ride his horse in what was formerly known as the Christmas Parade of Lights but had been renamed (a year earlier, a point he evidently failed to notice) the &lt;i&gt;Holiday &lt;/i&gt;Parade of Lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The controversy that followed did not escape &lt;a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-december-6-2010/the-gretch-who-saved-the-war-on-christmas" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Jon Stewart's&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; attention. As Stewart pointed out, Christianity survived the Roman Empire, and it will surely survive the renaming of Tulsa's parade. But goodness me.&amp;nbsp;When Jon Stewart makes fun of the hullabaloo over your parade, you know things have gotten out of hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a mixed reaction to the parade controversy. There were Christians who sided with the senator, saying they were glad someone was "taking a stand". Other Christians felt that the fact there was a controversy at all over the H-word was an embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leaned towards the latter. I thought the Christian community looked like a petulant 2-year-old who has a toy they don't want to share. There are two problems with that. One is that Jesus does not "belong" to His followers. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;We belong to Him&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. The second problem is that we are called to tell others about Christ, and I believe that Christmas is a time when some are more open to the message of a light shining in the darkness of their lives.&amp;nbsp;That message is often drowned out by&amp;nbsp;Christians who are busy screaming, "Mine!" every December. There are Christians who bristle at the inclusiveness of the word "holiday" but if we're called to share Christ, doesn't He&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;demand &lt;/i&gt;inclusiveness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HtMAh9Jt7E/TuAJSp3_DQI/AAAAAAAAAxk/nr_GyOjmiko/s1600/Santa+Sleigh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HtMAh9Jt7E/TuAJSp3_DQI/AAAAAAAAAxk/nr_GyOjmiko/s1600/Santa+Sleigh.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: &lt;i&gt;Microsoft &lt;/i&gt;Clip Art&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;It's been 15 years or more since I've been to the parade, but I have no memory of baby Jesus being the star of the show. There were always a few church floats, business floats, school floats and bands, local TV anchors, and of course, the main attraction,&amp;nbsp;Santa. But despite the parade's name and the presence of some churches, the parade was &lt;i&gt;never &lt;/i&gt;about Jesus. The change from a daytime parade to a "Parade of Lights" came about not as a way to allow Christ's light to shine, but because the main sponsor was the local electric company. I have to think Jesus is totally cool with not being featured in a parade that's primary purpose is well, &lt;i&gt;commercial&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed,&amp;nbsp;I think there are times when Christ would probably just as soon we left His name out of things that don't really honor Him, at all.&amp;nbsp;As much as our economy is driven by consumerism, and knowing that businesses rely on Christmas shopping to make a profit, I don't think Christ feels particularly honored when we use the celebration of His birth as an excuse for extravagant giving in order to impress others. I don't think He feels glorified by Christmas parties that have nothing to do with God's love for us. I don't think He is impressed when we "stand up for Him" in a way that builds walls that prevent others from coming to Him. (While I hesitate to say how Jesus would respond to those of us who profess to follow Him but who build walls to keep others away, I suspect it would start with the phrase, "&lt;i&gt;Woe to you...&lt;/i&gt;")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me back to the parade. This year, there will be competing parades, held on the same night and at the same time. The Holiday Parade of Lights will be held downtown, as it always has been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will also be a "Christmas parade", which will be held at a local shopping center. Supporters of the Christmas parade say they will attend because the parade has honored Christ in its name. However, according to the &lt;a href="http://www.tulsabeacon.com/?p=5541"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tulsa Beacon&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, the location was selected "because there are almost no retail shops downtown." &lt;i&gt;Really?&lt;/i&gt; I didn't realize retail shops were&amp;nbsp;required&amp;nbsp;in order to honor Christ. An organizer - who happens to be running for office - went on to say, "Our new...shopping center is becoming the more frequent first choice for shoppers. We have chosen this location for our first (hopefully of many) annual Christmas parade." Is it me, or does this parade seem to be about retail businesses? There's nothing wrong with a parade being centered around shopping, that's how our downtown parade began back when most stores were located downtown. But don't pretend it's something spiritual when clearly, it's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NRs5gB605Lg/TuAJnSFchtI/AAAAAAAAAxs/McVm6Xu6Lys/s1600/Gethsemane.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NRs5gB605Lg/TuAJnSFchtI/AAAAAAAAAxs/McVm6Xu6Lys/s200/Gethsemane.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;As He prayed at Gethsemane in His final hours, Christ prayed for future believers who would &amp;nbsp;come to Him through the message of those who already believed. He prayed for &lt;i&gt;us &lt;/i&gt;in those early morning hours as He waited for the soldiers who would lead him to the Cross. Christ prayed that we would hear His message and come to know the grace of God. Now it's our turn to spread the message, and that message is one of love and grace. Is that the message we're sending?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May &lt;i&gt;you &lt;/i&gt;experience the love of Christ throughout this holiday season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"&gt;My prayers is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one,&amp;nbsp;Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one -- I in them and you in me -- so that they may be brought to complete unity.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"&gt;Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;~&amp;nbsp;John 17:20-23&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2700892866185852381?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2700892866185852381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-not-name-that-matters.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2700892866185852381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2700892866185852381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-not-name-that-matters.html' title='It&apos;s Not the Name That Matters'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HtMAh9Jt7E/TuAJSp3_DQI/AAAAAAAAAxk/nr_GyOjmiko/s72-c/Santa+Sleigh.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8172621421686611849</id><published>2011-12-05T22:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T23:57:41.125-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='carols'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Angels and Men Rejoice!</title><content type='html'>My maternal grandparents were extremely legalistic about the Christmas season. It lasted exactly one week. They never put the tree up before Christmas Eve and it absolutely had to come down on New Year's Eve. I always wondered if they had any idea how much joy they missed by limiting Christmas to such a narrow window of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why I start listening to Christmas music around Halloween, something for which I refuse to apologize. What baffles me is why it disturbs so many people. A couple of weeks ago I heard someone at the mall complaining about the Christmas music. "It's too soon," she said. "I'm already sick of it." Sick of Christmas music? In my mind, that just doesn't compute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that despite all of the options available, most of us tend to listen to one or two specific genres of music. Our preferences might be country, jazz,&amp;nbsp;songs from our youth,&amp;nbsp;or current hits, but we still listen to basically the same songs over and over and over again throughout the year.&amp;nbsp;But there are a lot of people who want to restrict Christmas carols to a period of about four weeks. They have no idea how many different songs I want to hear more than once...&lt;b&gt;it can't be done in four weeks&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not talking about &lt;i&gt;Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer&lt;/i&gt; here. Heavens, no. If I hear that once a season, it's one time too many. I'm talking about songs that herald the joy of Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can be Bing Crosby and Davie Bowie singing &lt;i&gt;Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy &lt;/i&gt;or a choir singing &lt;i&gt;Joy to the World&lt;/i&gt;. It can be a contemporary artist or it can be Rosemary Clooney. It can be be secular...I love John Lennon's &lt;i&gt;Happy Christmas (War is Over)&lt;/i&gt; and the hope it represents. It can be the ancient sound of &lt;i&gt;O Come, O Come Emmanuel, &lt;/i&gt;the familiar strains of &lt;i&gt;For Unto Us a Child is Born&lt;/i&gt;,&amp;nbsp;or the more recent&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Breath of Heaven&lt;/i&gt;. All of these songs remind me of a season that represents the full depth of God's love for us, that He would send His only Son to live among us and to be a living sacrifice for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you think how long the world waited for the Messiah, is it really too much to spend a couple of months a year anticipating His arrival all over again through music? Is it ever wrong to rejoice over the reality of Emmanuel...God with us? Is it ever too soon to sing, "O come, let us adore Him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite Christmas songs is a newer song, &lt;i&gt;All Is Well&lt;/i&gt;, by Wayne Kirkpatrick with music by Michael W. Smith. I love the music, and I love the words. You can listen to it on &lt;a href="http://youtu.be/yAyplzXmjVE"&gt;YouTube&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yAyplzXmjVE" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAyplzXmjVE"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAyplzXmjVE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;How early do you start listening to Christmas music? What are your favorite Christmas songs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;and the government will be on his shoulders.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Isaiah 9:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8172621421686611849?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8172621421686611849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/angels-and-men-rejoice.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8172621421686611849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8172621421686611849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/angels-and-men-rejoice.html' title='Angels and Men Rejoice!'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/yAyplzXmjVE/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3961929050979162122</id><published>2011-11-26T20:00:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T20:17:26.108-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loving your neighbor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Civil Rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racism'/><title type='text'>Change, One Step at a Time</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about the part of my childhood spent in Mississippi over the last several months. It was over 40 years ago, but it many ways, it seems like yesterday.&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;"The Help"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;brought back many of the memories -- a combination of fond memories specific to Jackson, and others that reflected the ugly face of racism that could be found anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once read a book about generational differences. The author maintained that much of how we view the world as adults is shaped by the events that took place when we were 10.&amp;nbsp;I think there is some truth in that. I'm not the person I would have been if my family had stayed in Oklahoma instead of moving to Jackson in 1968 because the short time we lived in the deep South changed me forever, just as that period began to change the South itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0LH6k8evI_w/TtEw-I0z9yI/AAAAAAAAAxU/p9Rlre3kn_A/s1600/girls+in+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="169" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0LH6k8evI_w/TtEw-I0z9yI/AAAAAAAAAxU/p9Rlre3kn_A/s320/girls+in+school.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;The year I was 10 was the year that Jackson's public schools were closed for two weeks in January for reorganization. When the schools reopened at the end of the two weeks, they were no longer segregated...for the most part. My school was the exception with no black students that year, but we did have black teachers for the first time. At that point, we had lived in Jackson almost 18 months, and most of that time had been permeated with talk about whether or not Jackson could avoid integrating the schools. Most of the talk was awful, and it was hard to escape, even at church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult to believe now, but for people who had grown up under segregation, it seemed normal. Many believed segregation was ordained by God. They looked to scripture in Joshua where God instructed the Israelites not to mix with the Canaanites. They referenced New Testament scriptures that talked about keeping light separate from darkness, and they genuinely believed that meant that God intended for all races to be separate, and for all time. In that atmosphere, it wasn't surprising when&amp;nbsp;my Sunday school teacher and my missions leader -- both public schoolteachers -- asked us to pray that they would not be taken from their white schools to teach black children. Not surprising, perhaps, but I couldn't help but wonder how "love your neighbor" fit into the way my teachers at church saw the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When the community finally realized that they could no longer ignore a ruling from the Supreme Court, panicked families began searching for ways to start their own schools, just about anywhere. They started them in their homes, in abandoned buildings, and in churches. When our church held a meeting to discuss the possibility of joining the white flight movement by starting a school within the church, my dad was one of the members who spoke out forcefully against the proposal. Thankfully, the idea of a school failed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was blessed with&amp;nbsp;parents who managed to set aside their own upbringings and who taught me that racism was wrong.&amp;nbsp;When neighbors and friends abandoned the public schools, my parents held firm. We would not give in to white flight.&amp;nbsp;When my dad's company picnic was held at a state park outside of Jackson and our group -- made up of white and black families -- was threatened with violence, my dad and the other company managers were forced to make the decision to leave&amp;nbsp;peaceably&amp;nbsp;rather than risk harm to their families. My parents used the incident as an opportunity to teach me about the ugliness of racism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I knew that although my parents taught me the right thing, they struggled with racism themselves, as I sometimes find myself struggling with it. Each generation comes further than the one before, and while my generation didn't defeat racism, the role we played on the front lines of desegregation made it easier for the generations after us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent years, I have heard my peers in Oklahoma say things like, "Busing didn't change anything." Whenever I hear someone say that, I look them in the eye and say, "I disagree. &lt;i&gt;Desegregation changed&amp;nbsp;everything&lt;/i&gt;." I remind them that we were born into a world with separate restrooms, separate water fountains, and separate sections in movie theaters. There were restaurants where blacks could not be served, parts of cities they could not enter. There were people who were murdered for no other reason than someone didn't like the color of their skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the Civil Rights Act changed laws, it was integrating the schools that led to changed hearts because it allowed opportunities for interaction that otherwise never could have happened. And it was changed hearts -- much more so than changed laws -- that led to changed behavior. Today, I'm praying that God continues to change my heart where He sees I&amp;nbsp;need to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." ~ Matthew 22:36-40 (NIV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3961929050979162122?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3961929050979162122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/change-one-step-at-time.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3961929050979162122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3961929050979162122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/change-one-step-at-time.html' title='Change, One Step at a Time'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0LH6k8evI_w/TtEw-I0z9yI/AAAAAAAAAxU/p9Rlre3kn_A/s72-c/girls+in+school.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5297074833038404646</id><published>2011-11-17T22:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T22:36:46.229-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='earthquake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God moving in our lives'/><title type='text'>Shake, Rattle, and Roll</title><content type='html'>Two weeks ago this Saturday night, I was starting to doze off when it sounded like a semi had pulled up outside my window. Then, just as I was beginning to process what I thought was the sound of thunder in the distance, I realized my bed was shaking. And it wan't just my bed. The walls were shaking, and it seemed as though I could hear the sound of everything - and I mean &lt;i&gt;everything &lt;/i&gt;- in my house shaking. The pictures on the walls made noise, my closet doors rattled, and it sounded like bee bee pellets were rolling across the attic.One of my cats, who had been sleeping next to me on the bed, took off for the stairs as my other cat came out from under the bed and followed in hot pursuit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I just lay there thinking, "So this is what an earthquake feels like." Well, that was my first thought. My second was, "We don't have earthquakes like this in Oklahoma."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, &lt;i&gt;we do now&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turned out it was a 5.6, and while there was some damage near the epicenter -- which was about 60 miles away -- it didn't do much more than rattle people (pardon the pun) around here. There had been a foreshock much earlier in the day, while most of us were asleep. A number of people I know felt some shaking during the night, and I was a little disappointed that I had slept though it. That was before we knew it was a foreshock -- I didn't even realize there was such a thing. (Blogger's spell-check doesn't know there's such a thing either.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Monday, as tornado warnings were in effect over parts of Oklahoma which we're accustomed to -- but not so much in November -- the joke was that we still had a few weeks left in hurricane season. &lt;i&gt;Could a hurricane be next?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f7v89tW7D9M/TsXb87LYG6I/AAAAAAAAAxM/9s1H_oJr6II/s1600/2011Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f7v89tW7D9M/TsXb87LYG6I/AAAAAAAAAxM/9s1H_oJr6II/s320/2011Snow.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Not a normal Oklahoma snow!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It's been that kind of year. We had snow in February that would rival snowstorms in Chicago. As a matter of fact, the same storm hit Chicago later in the week. It actually paralyzed snow-savvy Chicago, although not nearly as long as it paralyzed us. By the following week, with close to two feet of snow on the ground, we had temperatures that would rival those in International Falls, Minnesota. Thanks to the heat island, Tulsa only got down to about 13 below at its coldest, but outlying areas were 20-30 degrees below zero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not anywhere close to a normal Oklahoma winter, and I knew that did not bode well for the coming summer.&amp;nbsp;Sure enough, July and August brought temperatures that would rival those in Death Valley.&amp;nbsp;My sister pointed out to me long ago that whenever we have extremely hot summers, they are either preceded or followed by extremely cold winters...and vice versa. I pulled my phone out and called her at her home in Minnesota one afternoon in August when I got into my car and the thermometer read 125 degrees. It was a rare summer in that it seemed few people had tans because no one wanted to spend time in the sun, and even a fake tan was too. much. trouble. Area lakes brought no comfort because the heat and the drought (oh, yeah, we're still in the midst of a drought) combined to cause algae to grow on at least 3 of the nearby lakes. &lt;i&gt;Yuck&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we have the occasional colder-than-normal winter, the occasional hotter-than-usual summer, and even the occasional drought, this year's extremes exceeded anything I've ever experienced in Oklahoma. While we have the occasional record-breaking snowfall, this year's snow totals broke records for the entire season. It was particularly jarring in that most of it came over a 10-day period. And while we're used to tornadoes and the uncertainty they bring to our lives, we were stunned when a large portion of Joplin was destroyed just across the state line on Mothers Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the earthquake was different. While a 5.6 is big for Oklahoma - the biggest ever recorded in the state - it doesn't compare to earthquakes in California, or Japan, or Turkey, or Chili, or any of the other places that have experienced much larger earthquakes. It didn't kill anyone, or cause anything more than minor injuries. It damaged some homes and buildings, but it didn't destroy large portions of cities, or take out entire neighborhoods. It was different largely because it wasn't something we're used to dealing with. There was an aftershock a couple of nights later that was the same magnitude as the foreshock, a 4.7, but it came early enough in the evening that most of us felt it. It wasn't as loud, and it didn't last long, but it sure got our attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the ground stopped shaking and as I realized my second experience with an earthquake was over, I thought about how God sometimes reaches into our lives and shakes things up to get our attention. And while that can be a little scary, it can also be exciting...like an earthquake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope he doesn't have a 6.0 up his sleeve. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I will shake all nations, and the desired of all nations will come, and I will fill this house with glory," says the Lord Almighty.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Haggai 2:7&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5297074833038404646?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5297074833038404646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/shake-rattle-and-roll.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5297074833038404646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5297074833038404646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/11/shake-rattle-and-roll.html' title='Shake, Rattle, and Roll'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f7v89tW7D9M/TsXb87LYG6I/AAAAAAAAAxM/9s1H_oJr6II/s72-c/2011Snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3767757713486804702</id><published>2011-09-11T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T20:38:13.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today, We Remember...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIq_BjIxCZI/AAAAAAAAAn4/MTjJcuHoHjY/s1600/America+the+Beautiful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIq_BjIxCZI/AAAAAAAAAn4/MTjJcuHoHjY/s640/America+the+Beautiful.jpg" width="372" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3767757713486804702?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3767757713486804702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3767757713486804702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/today-we-remember.html' title='Today, We Remember...'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIq_BjIxCZI/AAAAAAAAAn4/MTjJcuHoHjY/s72-c/America+the+Beautiful.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5715484585602296986</id><published>2011-08-14T13:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T13:00:00.664-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom in Christ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s love'/><title type='text'>The Eye of the Beholder</title><content type='html'>It's always amazing to me when two people can look at the same thing and see something totally different. Remember Nancy Reagan's first Inaugural gown? Some people looked at the one-shouldered white dress and saw classic elegance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3xiX-rc2WaM/Tkcvj53AzYI/AAAAAAAAAwo/LllBrsiQ-Ck/s1600/nrwhtdrs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3xiX-rc2WaM/Tkcvj53AzYI/AAAAAAAAAwo/LllBrsiQ-Ck/s1600/nrwhtdrs.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Others saw this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fev2ql5wP8o/Tkcv2WDHaVI/AAAAAAAAAws/s9whigu9EIM/s1600/Wilma-Flintstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fev2ql5wP8o/Tkcv2WDHaVI/AAAAAAAAAws/s9whigu9EIM/s320/Wilma-Flintstone.jpg" width="177" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: www.i-love-cartoons.com&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll confess to seeing both. A one-shouldered dress has never been my personal style, but hey, Wilma's outfit was pretty classic. And even at 21, I admired Nancy's courage in letting her middle-aged arms show. It's something I've thought about virtually every morning of this hottest. summer. ever. as I have chosen sleeveless shirts and dresses from my closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I knew people with varying opinions of Nancy's dress, I have known people who look at the Bible and see different things. Some people see lists of rules. Others see freedom. Still others see love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll confess to seeing all of those things because they are not mutually exclusive. The Bible has guidelines for our lives. There's no question about that. Those guidelines are there to show us how to love God, and how to love others. They're there to protect us from harming others and from harming ourselves. The Bible shows us how to find freedom in Christ, but warns us not to abuse our freedom. Most of all, the Bible tells us how much God loves us. Everything else comes from that love that began long before we were created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;When I taught Preschool Worship, one Sunday I followed the teacher's book in preparing a lesson about the Bible. I had a cookbook, a sewing book, a French book, and a couple of other instructional books to show the kids. Then, following the lesson plan, I asked them to tell me why God wrote the Bible. According to my teacher's book the correct answer was, "God wrote the Bible to tell us how to live our lives." But there was one little boy -- wise beyond his years -- who answered, "God wrote the Bible to tell us how much he loves us." It blew my lesson to smithereens, but he was right. God wrote the Bible to tell us how much he loves us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.&lt;/i&gt; ~ John 3:16-17 (NIV)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5715484585602296986?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5715484585602296986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/08/eye-of-beholder.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5715484585602296986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5715484585602296986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/08/eye-of-beholder.html' title='The Eye of the Beholder'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3xiX-rc2WaM/Tkcvj53AzYI/AAAAAAAAAwo/LllBrsiQ-Ck/s72-c/nrwhtdrs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-154102500553992061</id><published>2011-08-05T06:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T11:08:01.252-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='generations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s revelation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='truth'/><title type='text'>Nothing New Under the Sun</title><content type='html'>No doubt you've heard that we're sizzling in the middle of the United States. Seriously, &lt;i&gt;sizzling&lt;/i&gt;. Adding insult to injury, voluntary water rationing began this week so we're supposed to limit outside watering to every-other-day, between the hours of midnight to noon...when I'm usually either asleep or at work. So, for the foreseeable future, it looks like I'll be up at 5:00 a.m. every-other-day to water, which leaves me with some time on my hands to write about the things I have been tossing around in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--HHIZPwOgWg/TjvV2O0JkoI/AAAAAAAAAwk/LGdwfudtHHo/s1600/sunset_landscape-1242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--HHIZPwOgWg/TjvV2O0JkoI/AAAAAAAAAwk/LGdwfudtHHo/s320/sunset_landscape-1242.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: www.free-extras.com&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;As we have watched weather records fall this summer with temperatures reaching new highs, I have found myself thinking that every generation needs its very own summer from you-know-where to tell their children about. I grew up hearing all about the summer of 1936, when not only was there no air-conditioning, but my mother's family didn't even own a fan. My friends' kids grew up hearing tales about the summer of 1980 when, mercifully, central air-conditioning was pretty standard. The thing I remember most about that summer was when the day came that the high was only 90 degrees, it seemed as though everyone in town was driving around with their windows down to feel the "cool" breeze. The summer of 2011 is another one of those summers that generations to come will grow up hearing all about, thinking it will never be THAT hot again. But the truth is, there &lt;i&gt;will &lt;/i&gt;be another summer like this...we just hope it will be &lt;i&gt;decades &lt;/i&gt;from now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each generation has to learn truths about life for themselves. My mom gets a kick out of watching the epiphany as each generation of parents stumbles onto something "new" that isn't new, at all. You should hear her on the topic of lead paint. "Do they think they're the first ones to figure out that lead paint is dangerous? What, do they think we were feeding paint chips to our kids? Honestly, how do they think we survived without them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself doing the same thing a couple of weeks ago when I was watching &lt;u&gt;&lt;i&gt;Today&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;i&gt;. &lt;/i&gt;Natalie Morales, who is in her late 30s, was doing a segment on how GenX women are re-inventing 40. Seriously? &lt;i&gt;They think this is new?&lt;/i&gt; I remember Jane Pauley doing almost exactly the same segment a little over 20 years ago, and I feel sure that Barbara Walters probably did a similar segment as she approached 40. It's only new to today's generation of late 30-somethings because they weren't paying attention 20 years ago. There wasn't any reason for them to notice it. They weren't ready for the story about reinventing 40 when they were in their late teens. It had no relevance for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spiritual truths work the same way. We all have to discover them when we're ready. God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, but we're not. It takes us time to catch up - not to where He is - just to where He wants us to be at any given point in our lives. And He is always willing to wait patiently for us to get there, knowing that when we do, we'll still have further to go. He will show us exactly what we need for that part of our journey, preparing us for what's ahead, when He'll show us a little more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9&lt;/i&gt; (NIV)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-154102500553992061?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/154102500553992061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/08/nothing-new-under-sun.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/154102500553992061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/154102500553992061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/08/nothing-new-under-sun.html' title='Nothing New Under the Sun'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--HHIZPwOgWg/TjvV2O0JkoI/AAAAAAAAAwk/LGdwfudtHHo/s72-c/sunset_landscape-1242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1041996745608131966</id><published>2011-05-21T12:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T13:27:09.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rapture Saturday</title><content type='html'>I can't remember the last time we had such a wacky week&amp;nbsp; We had so many sex scandals that Thursday morning when I turned the car radio on and found the station was in the middle of a news story, it took me a few seconds to decided if they were talking about the French cad or the Arnold cad. (For the record, it was the French cad, and of course his alleged behavior far exceeds that of a run-of-the-mill sex scandal as he has been accused of criminal behavior.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the spectacle of a potential presidential candidate "dropping out" of the race he never officially entered, at a roll-out of a major network's fall television season. Really? Is this where we're going to discuss the important issues confronting our nation? Of course it's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FgsvciWjn4E/TdgBhcJmtWI/AAAAAAAAAt0/UO3SjHkdpT0/s1600/endisnottoday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FgsvciWjn4E/TdgBhcJmtWI/AAAAAAAAAt0/UO3SjHkdpT0/s320/endisnottoday.jpg" width="260" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;By the end of the week, we were all enraptured by talk of the rapture. While I take the promise of Christ's return seriously, I can't help but laugh out loud at the idea that anyone could figure out the hour and day by coming up with just the right mathematical formula. It's not because math was my worst subject. It's that Jesus made it clear that no one knows the hour or the day - not even the Son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that to a lot of people, the very idea of a rapture - of Jesus coming to claim believers and take them up into heaven - is nuts. And perhaps by choosing a word like "rapture" to describe such an event, Christ's followers have encouraged such cynicism. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But despite the fact that the term "rapture" isn't biblical, the &lt;i&gt;concept &lt;/i&gt;is. Jesus refers to his coming again and tells his disciples to be prepared. In Matthew he tells them that the day will come when all the nations &lt;i&gt;"will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky with power and great glory. And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens of the other."&lt;/i&gt; Now we know that Jesus often spoke in figurative terms. If his disciples had realized he was talking about his body when he told them that the temple would be destroyed and he would raise it again in three days, they'd have been hanging out at the tomb following the crucifixion. They would have been actual witness to more than an empty tomb - they would have been waiting in anticipation of watching him walk out of that tomb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if Jesus is speaking in literal or figurative terms when he tells what his second coming will look like. I suspect we'll be surprised by the reality, much as we were surprised by the baby in the manger. But I know that whatever it looks like, we won't miss it. And we won't need to worry about anyone's ability to come up with the right math formula to be ready for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for today, it looks like instead of waiting for Jesus to come around dinnertime, I'll be cleaning house. Because tomorrow &lt;i&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;another day and I'd like to wake up on clean sheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord's own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore, encourage one another with these words.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~ I Thessalonians 4:13-18 (NIV)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1041996745608131966?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1041996745608131966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapture-saturday.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1041996745608131966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1041996745608131966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapture-saturday.html' title='Rapture Saturday'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FgsvciWjn4E/TdgBhcJmtWI/AAAAAAAAAt0/UO3SjHkdpT0/s72-c/endisnottoday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7800541811987449626</id><published>2011-04-20T20:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T21:22:54.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='resurrection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holy Week'/><title type='text'>Easter Carols</title><content type='html'>Growing up, there were Christmas hymns that I dreaded hearing in church. While I loved &lt;i&gt;Hark, The Herald Angels Sing&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Joy to the World&lt;/i&gt;, and &lt;i&gt;Silent Night&lt;/i&gt;, there were others that I just didn't think sounded at all Christmasy. I don't know what it was in my 6-year-old brain that considered &lt;i&gt;Silent Night&lt;/i&gt; worthy of Christmas, but &lt;i&gt;O Holy Night&lt;/i&gt; not, but that's how I felt. Now, my middle-aged brain finds it irritating that &lt;i&gt;O Holy Night &lt;/i&gt;is almost never included in my church's Christmas Eve service. (I can only assume that someone on our staff must have been traumatized at some point in life by one too many bad &lt;i&gt;O Holy Night&lt;/i&gt; solos.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ca0MYIIv4pU/Ta-FVo-A7nI/AAAAAAAAAtw/BxywgNfxw3Y/s1600/mgrcrs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ca0MYIIv4pU/Ta-FVo-A7nI/AAAAAAAAAtw/BxywgNfxw3Y/s1600/mgrcrs.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;While I still love the jubilant and the sentimental carols, I have come to love the haunting ones just as much...maybe even &lt;i&gt;more&lt;/i&gt;. While Holy Week always brings to my mind the more traditional songs of Easter, such as&lt;i&gt; Were You There?&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;When I Survey the Wondrous Cross&lt;/i&gt;, I also find the more haunting hymns of Christmas running through my mind this week, long after the Christmas decorations have been put away. These are the hymns that remind me that it is impossible to separate the Baby in the manger from the Savior on the Cross, for they are one and the same. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beginning with Palm Sunday, I find myself singing the first verse of&lt;i&gt; I Wonder As I Wander&lt;/i&gt; as it runs through my head over and over again.&amp;nbsp; My mind simply will not let it go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wonder as I wander out under the sky,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;How Jesus, the Savior, did come forth to die,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;For poor ornery people like you and like I;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wonder as I wander...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Out under the sky. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's &lt;i&gt;O Come, O Come, Emmanuel&lt;/i&gt;. It's a song that has been sung for hundreds of years - although most of those years it was sung in Latin. It's easy to imagine Christians who lived in the 15th century singing the mystical tune with words that paint a clear portrait of the Lamb of God. As I listen to it, I am overcome by the realization that Christ came to ransom more than captive Israel. He came to ransom all of captive mankind. He came to ransom me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;O come, O come, Emmanuel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;And ransom captive Israel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;That mourns in lonely exile here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Until the Son of God appear&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Shall come to thee, O Israel.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free&lt;br /&gt;Thine own from Satan's tyranny&lt;br /&gt;From depths of Hell Thy people save&lt;br /&gt;And give them victory o'er the grave&lt;br /&gt;Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel&lt;br /&gt;Shall come to thee, O Israel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer&lt;br /&gt;Our spirits by Thine advent here&lt;br /&gt;Disperse the gloomy clouds of night&lt;br /&gt;And death's dark shadows put to flight.&lt;br /&gt;Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel&lt;br /&gt;Shall come to thee, O Israel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O come, Thou Key of David, come,&lt;br /&gt;And open wide our heavenly home;&lt;br /&gt;Make safe the way that leads on high,&lt;br /&gt;And close the path to misery.&lt;br /&gt;Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel&lt;br /&gt;Shall come to thee, O Israel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,&lt;br /&gt;Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,&lt;br /&gt;In ancient times did'st give the Law,&lt;br /&gt;In cloud, and majesty and awe.&lt;br /&gt;Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel&lt;br /&gt;Shall come to thee, O Israel. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I have learned that it is impossible to separate the manger from  the cross, I have leaned that the joy of Christmas, the sorrow of Good  Friday, and the jubilation of the Resurrection are all  intertwined. And perhaps nothing says that better than the last verse of that Christmas carol I didn't care for as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Truly He taught us to love one another;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;His law is love, and His gospel is peace;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;And in His name all oppression shall cease.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Let all within us praise His holy name;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Christ is the Lord, Oh, praise His name forever!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: left;"&gt;Blessings to you this Easter,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;~Isaiah 53:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7800541811987449626?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7800541811987449626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-carols.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7800541811987449626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7800541811987449626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-carols.html' title='Easter Carols'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ca0MYIIv4pU/Ta-FVo-A7nI/AAAAAAAAAtw/BxywgNfxw3Y/s72-c/mgrcrs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2457466940339766654</id><published>2011-03-27T17:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T17:48:44.436-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single pastors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singleness and ministry'/><title type='text'>The Single Pastor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Death and taxes are only two of life's certainties. There are others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, if a tornado hits Oklahoma, network reporters will invariably seek out video of the person with the strongest Okie twang and the worst grammar to share their tornado survival story on the national news.While our hearts go out to anyone who has been so traumatized, I have to tell you, we always wonder why they never seem to be able to find any articulate tornado victims to interview. Believe me, there are plenty of articulate people who have survived tornadoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Another certainty? Whenever evangelical churches do something questionable, &lt;i&gt;The  New York Times&lt;/i&gt; will not only write about it, but they will go out of their way to include a quote from Albert Mohler Jr., president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville. It's also fairly certain that whatever Dr. Mohler says will make me cringe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4RL3VClQVsM/TY-9LOtw1kI/AAAAAAAAAts/W5khF3V3xMk/s1600/suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4RL3VClQVsM/TY-9LOtw1kI/AAAAAAAAAts/W5khF3V3xMk/s320/suit.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Not surprisingly, it is Mohler's quotes on singleness that most try my patience. It was an article in &lt;i&gt;The New York Times&lt;/i&gt; this past week that reminded me of how much I hate to hear the man's thoughts on the subject. The article, &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/22/us/22pastor.html?pagewanted=1"&gt;Unmarried Pastor, Seeking a Job, Sees Bias&lt;/a&gt;, centers on Mark Almlie, and evangelical pastor who has been out of work for 2 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almlie, who has years of experience behind him, says he has responded to more than 500 job postings. Some churches reply and request more information, but never contact him again once they learn he is single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He believes there is a bias against single pastors, and I think his point is valid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Times&lt;/i&gt; reported that Dr. Mohler said it was unfair to accuse churches of discrimination because that word implied something “wrongful.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, yeah.&amp;nbsp; That would be the point, Al.&amp;nbsp; It &lt;i&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;wrongful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The article continues with Dr. Mohler's thoughts. “Both the logic of Scripture and the centrality of marriage in society,”  he said, justify “the strong inclination of congregations to hire a man  who is not only married but faithfully married.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Seriously? &lt;/i&gt;I'm willing to concede that the man can't be wrong all the time. I'll give him the faithful part...if you have a married pastor, you want him (or &lt;i&gt;her&lt;/i&gt; - deal with it, Al) to be faithful to their spouse. But as for the rest of that quote...give me a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no such "logic" rejecting single pastors in scripture.&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;If there were, Jesus would have been married.&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;Paul - &lt;i&gt;the apostle most quoted in these discussions on the qualifications for a pastor&lt;/i&gt; - would have been married. As a matter of fact, the passage most likely to be quoted comes from Paul's letter to Timothy, and there's no indication that Timothy had a wife - although Paul does refer to both Timothy's mother and grandmother by name. And there are countless other biblical examples of singles leading in ministry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the issue of "the centrality of marriage in society." &lt;i&gt;Really&lt;/i&gt;, Al? You seriously want to argue that s&lt;i&gt;ociety &lt;/i&gt;should dictate who churches hire as pastors? Churches should look to the Bible for direction in hiring a pastor. Churches should look to the guidance of the Holy Spirit in hiring a pastor. But &lt;i&gt;society&lt;/i&gt;? Come on, Al.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having been exposed to different Christian traditions, I have had the opportunity to see pastors in action who are married, as well as pastors who are single. I can tell you that marital status impacts how they do their jobs. But I cannot say that one is better than the other. Each brings a different set of advantages - and disadvantages - to the position. The single pastors are free to minister to people at all hours of the day and night in a way that is difficult for pastors with families. The church family truly becomes the single pastor's family. But married pastors can minister in other ways that are just as meaningful and unique to their personal situations. Through their family members, they connect to parts of the church body in a way that is more difficult for the single pastor. Both the married and the single pastor will find a strong connection to some members, and fail to connect at all with others. Neither is perfect. Neither is superior to the other. They are just different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul himself addressed the issue of singles in ministry in I Corinthians 7, while still supporting the ministries of those who are married. He speaks about the advantages of singleness in this passage from&lt;i&gt; The Message&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="bg_passage-12184"&gt;32-35&lt;/sup&gt;I want you to live as free of complications as possible. When you're unmarried, you're free to concentrate on simply pleasing the Master. Marriage involves you in all the nuts and bolts of domestic life and in wanting to please your spouse, leading to so many more demands on your attention. The time and energy that married people spend on caring for and nurturing each other, the unmarried can spend in becoming whole and holy instruments of God. I'm trying to be helpful and make it as easy as possible for you, not make things harder. All I want is for you to be able to develop a way of life in which you can spend plenty of time together with the Master without a lot of distractions.&lt;/i&gt;  (&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+7%3A32-34&amp;amp;version=MSG&amp;amp;src=embed"&gt;1 Corinthians 7:32-34&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/Message-MSG-Bible/?src=embed"&gt;The Message&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the letter, Paul was even more direct:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="bg_passage-12173"&gt;7&lt;/sup&gt;Sometimes I wish everyone were single like me—a simpler life in many ways! But celibacy is not for everyone any more than marriage is. God gives the gift of the single life to some, the gift of the married life to others&lt;/i&gt;.  (&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+7%3A7&amp;amp;version=MSG&amp;amp;src=embed"&gt;1 Corinthians 7:7&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/Message-MSG-Bible/?src=embed"&gt;The Message&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Times&lt;/i&gt; article goes on to say that Mohler tells seminary students “if they remain single, they need to understand that there’s going to be  a significant limitation on their ability to serve as a pastor.” As clearly stated in Paul's writings, the limitation they will face is not actually on "their ability to serve as a pastor." Single pastors can serve their churches well because they are free to focus on their work. The biggest limitation on the single pastor's ability to serve in evangelical churches will be on their ability to be &lt;i&gt;hired &lt;/i&gt;as a pastor. And instead of defending that system, Al Mohler should be doing everything he can to teach churches what the Bible actually teaches on singleness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="bg_passage-12181"&gt;24&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;i&gt;Friends, stay where you were called to be. God is there. Hold the high ground with him at your side.&lt;/i&gt;  (&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+7%3A24&amp;amp;version=MSG&amp;amp;src=embed"&gt;1 Corinthians 7:24&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/Message-MSG-Bible/?src=embed"&gt;The Message&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2457466940339766654?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2457466940339766654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/single-pastor.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2457466940339766654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2457466940339766654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/single-pastor.html' title='The Single Pastor'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4RL3VClQVsM/TY-9LOtw1kI/AAAAAAAAAts/W5khF3V3xMk/s72-c/suit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2531339901280379150</id><published>2011-03-16T20:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T22:10:13.582-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tsunami'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disasters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='earthquake'/><title type='text'>Murphy's Law</title><content type='html'>The events of the past week have been incomprehensible, beginning with a 9.0 earthquake off the coast of Japan, followed by a tsunami that wiped out entire towns, and now a nuclear crisis. As we watch the pictures, it's hard to believe it's real. The home videos of the tsunami look like special effects from a disaster movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those who say it's God's judgment. I don't agree with that but I do believe it's the result of living in an imperfect world. That said, I also believe the images of the past week, including what's happening right now at the nuclear plant in Fukushima are a vivid illustration of sin in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in the 8th grade, the local electric company announced plans to build a nuclear power plant 30 miles east of the city. It would be named Black Fox, which sounded like an appropriate name for a plant in Oklahoma. But over the next 9 years, as opposition to the plant grew,  the name came to sound very ominous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I neared my 20th birthday, the plant had still not been built, and a couple of things happened that spring to draw everyone's attention to the protests. The first was the release of the movie, &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078966/"&gt;The China Syndrome&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, about safety issues at a fictional nuclear plant. That same month, there was the all-too-real accident at &lt;a href="http://www.nrc.gov/reading-rm/doc-collections/fact-sheets/3mile-isle.html"&gt;Three-Mile Island&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now, I was paying full attention to the issue, and I agreed with local protesters that the dangers of a nuclear power plant were too great. While I never joined their efforts, I admired their tenacity, particularly that of &lt;a href="http://www.carriedickersonfoundation.com/lifeAndLegacy.html"&gt;Carrie Barefoot Dickerson&lt;/a&gt;, who led the fight. By 1982 the power company gave up their plans for Black Fox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years later came the disaster at Chernobyl, and I was again relieved that Black Fox had never been completed. But 25 years went by without another major event at a nuclear plant - although there have been other accidents - and like many people, I didn't give nuclear power a lot of thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, a couple of years ago, as it became more obvious that we needed to be considering alternative energy sources, I began to wonder if maybe Black Fox should have been completed. "Sure," I thought, "things &lt;i&gt;could&lt;/i&gt; go wrong, but they hardly ever &lt;i&gt;do &lt;/i&gt;go wrong. Maybe nuclear power isn't really all that dangerous." Those who planned the various nuclear plants that have been built along fault lines probably told themselves the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QVKtyGTfG7c/TYFbvHXVD_I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/OSepr1AIetU/s1600/nuke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QVKtyGTfG7c/TYFbvHXVD_I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/OSepr1AIetU/s1600/nuke.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;That's exactly how sin works. "Sure, things &lt;i&gt;could &lt;/i&gt;go wrong, but they hardly ever &lt;i&gt;do &lt;/i&gt;go wrong," we tell ourselves. I know even the word "sin" causes some of you to cringe. Too often, we see use of the word itself as judgment. While we all acknowledge the big sins - sins against children, sins of violence, we tend the minimize the sins we see as small sins, or the sins that we don't believe affect others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's the problem. Just as radiation escaping from the plant in Fukushima could potentially affect people beyond the immediate area, our sins can have an impact beyond ourselves. Sin is what separates us from God, but it also separates us from others, as it impacts our relationships. All sin can do that, from those we see as "small" all the way to the Big 10. Sin can permeate our culture and impact generations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as those who approved and built nuclear power plants on fault lines convinced themselves the dangers could be controlled, we think we can control sin. And while we tell ourselves that the sin we're considering giving into is not &lt;i&gt;that &lt;/i&gt;dangerous, the truth is we never know when the ground will begin to shift beneath our feet, or when the wave will overcome us, or when the safety mechanisms we thought were in place will fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately we have a God who forgives. We have a Savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Lord, please help those who are harm's way in Japan because we foolishly thought we could outsmart nature. Lord, forgive us our arrogance. Forgive us our greed. Forgive us our short-sightedness. Lord, have mercy.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praying continually for the people of Japan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the  flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have  their minds set on what the Spirit desires&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;i&gt;The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace. &lt;/i&gt;~ Romans 8:5-6&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2531339901280379150?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2531339901280379150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/murphys-law.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2531339901280379150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2531339901280379150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/murphys-law.html' title='Murphy&apos;s Law'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QVKtyGTfG7c/TYFbvHXVD_I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/OSepr1AIetU/s72-c/nuke.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4437302060120868775</id><published>2011-03-01T00:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T00:00:05.901-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vanity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom'/><title type='text'>Back in the Saddle Again</title><content type='html'>Since my last post much has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have learned that I'm a Leo instead of a Cancer, which is just plain wrong.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Two Middle-Eastern governments have been overthrown.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We have discovered that the delusional rants of Muammar Gaddafi are nothing compared to the delusional rants of Charlie Sheen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have exaggerated a bit on the last one, but just a bit. I feel reasonably certain that Charlie Sheen has not hired mercenaries to kill his enemies - although at this point I don't think anything would surprise me as each day seems to bring a new dimension to the very public unraveling of Charlie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As long as I have brought up the topic of Charlie Sheen, just this week I have learned that I have missed the vanity cards that appear at the end of each episode of &lt;i&gt;Two and a Half Men&lt;/i&gt;. I was vaguely aware that something flashed by at the end of the credits, but I didn't know what it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, thanks to Charlie's rants, I have discovered that I have been missing a creative art form. It seems that Chuck Lorre, the show's co-creator and the target of some of Charlie's nastiest comments, has been writing vanity cards to end episodes of his various shows for years. It turns out they are also on&lt;i&gt; The Big Bang Theory &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;Mike &amp;amp; Molly&lt;/i&gt; and they were on &lt;i&gt;Dharma &amp;amp; Greg&lt;/i&gt;. You can find them archived on &lt;a href="http://www.chucklorre.com/index.php"&gt;Lorre's website&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While cards from the recent weeks have attracted a lot of attention, it's &lt;a href="http://www.chucklorre.com/index.php?p=266-111c"&gt;#111&lt;/a&gt; that caught my eye. It begins with words that I felt speaking directly to me. &lt;b&gt;"This is the official "I have nothing worth writing about" vanity card. It will run whenever I have nothing worth writing about." &lt;/b&gt;It was first aired in November of 2009, and as Lorre goes on to explain, he wrote it because he realized he had nothing to say, and the only thing that had kept him from coming up with this card earlier was his vanity about the vanity cards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LDKDjeDTafg/TWxtJwHKdkI/AAAAAAAAAtM/nColwTG7as8/s1600/kb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LDKDjeDTafg/TWxtJwHKdkI/AAAAAAAAAtM/nColwTG7as8/s200/kb.jpg" width="199" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;That pretty much sums up how I have felt the last couple of months. It wasn't necessarily that I had nothing to say, or nothing worth writing about. There were a couple of times when I was tempted to write a post about something I felt strongly about, but I held back because it either wasn't my post to write, or it wasn't the right time to write it. I realized that I would be writing for the sake of filling a space, and to appease my own vanity. I tried reading other blogs and realized my competitive nature was dangerously close to taking over, tempting me to post just to keep up with everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I held back, I learned that I don't need to share every thought as it enters my head. I can wait for the right time. I can wait to feel inspired. &lt;i&gt;I can wait. &lt;/i&gt;And, as Chuck Lorre points out on card #111, "that knowledge is freedom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thanks to each of you who have either posted or emailed me to ask how I'm doing. Nothing has been going on beyond regular life and oh yeah, the occasional record-breaking snowstorm. It's wonderful to know I have been missed. I am feeling refreshed from this break, but I'm still not sure I'm ready to get back to a regular writing schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I continue to wait for the right time to return to posting on a somewhat regular basis, I &lt;i&gt;will &lt;/i&gt;get back to the routine of visiting and commenting on your blogs, looking forward to the wisdom each of you has to share. I've missed all of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to each of you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="ResultText" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is &lt;span class="Highlight"&gt;freedom&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Corinthians 3:17&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4437302060120868775?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4437302060120868775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/back-in-saddle-again.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4437302060120868775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4437302060120868775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/03/back-in-saddle-again.html' title='Back in the Saddle Again'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-LDKDjeDTafg/TWxtJwHKdkI/AAAAAAAAAtM/nColwTG7as8/s72-c/kb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8896047775172346930</id><published>2011-01-12T21:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T21:11:07.328-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worship'/><title type='text'>Cheering Scripture</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TS5pnRfmedI/AAAAAAAAAs8/xks_uALQ8_Q/s1600/Tucson+Svc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TS5pnRfmedI/AAAAAAAAAs8/xks_uALQ8_Q/s1600/Tucson+Svc.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: KVOA.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I can tell from the comments of my high school classmates on Facebook that I'm not the only one who was a little surprised by the pep rally tone of the memorial service in Tucson. Maybe time colors our memories, but if I remember correctly, the memorial service following the Oklahoma City bombing was pretty somber although - again, if my memory serves - I think &lt;i&gt;after &lt;/i&gt;the service the attendees launched into an impromptu chorus of &lt;i&gt;Oklahoma &lt;/i&gt;as they were exiting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that after days of mourning as a community, people have a desperate need to latch onto anything positive. I can understand that. Grief is exhausting. It saps our energy and feels as though the sun will never shine again. It makes us want to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after my initial surprise at the tone of the service, which after all, was held in a sports arena at the University of Arizona, I decided maybe cheering at a memorial service isn't such a bad thing. And when Homeland Secretary Janet Napolitano walked away from the podium to cheers following her reading of Isaiah 40, I smiled because it reminded me of something that Deron, my pastor, often chides us for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may have heard that Oklahomans love football. (Well, &lt;i&gt;most &lt;/i&gt;Oklahomans seem to. The fascination with football totally escapes me.)&amp;nbsp; Sooner fans get excited about OU and Cowboy fans get excited about OSU and it seems that most Oklahomans have a strong preference for one over the other. Deron can make a positive comment about one of the teams and the sanctuary will erupt into cheers that even manage to drown out the (&lt;i&gt;good-natured?&lt;/i&gt;) boos of the opposing fans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Deron will point out that we never show that kind of unbridled enthusiasm for scripture or for worship. We never give God the kind of glory that we give our favorite teams. We talk a lot about giving God glory. We sing about it..."&lt;i&gt;Shout to the Lord, all the earth, let us sing!&lt;/i&gt;" But the sad truth is, &lt;i&gt;we don't cheer for God&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any illusions about who the crowd in Tucson was cheering for. Some may indeed have been cheering for the words she read, but I suspect most were excited to see their former Governor and current Cabinet Secretary back for the service and more than that, they were caught up in the pep rally atmosphere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But perhaps the rest of us can learn something. We should shout to the mountaintops when we hear scripture. We should always be thrilled for the opportunity to shout to the Lord with passion, giving him &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;the glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Do you not know? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Have you not heard? &lt;br /&gt;The LORD is the everlasting God, &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;the Creator of the ends of the earth. &lt;br /&gt;He will not grow tired or weary, &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;and his understanding no one can fathom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-18450"&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;He gives strength to the weary &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;and increases the power of the weak. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-18451"&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;Even youths grow tired and weary, &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;and young men stumble and fall; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-18452"&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;but those who hope in the LORD &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;will renew their strength. &lt;br /&gt;They will soar on wings like eagles; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;they will run and not grow weary, &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;they will walk and not be faint. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Isaiah 40:28-31&lt;/span&gt; (NIV)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8896047775172346930?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8896047775172346930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheering-scripture.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8896047775172346930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8896047775172346930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheering-scripture.html' title='Cheering Scripture'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TS5pnRfmedI/AAAAAAAAAs8/xks_uALQ8_Q/s72-c/Tucson+Svc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7254161925938134281</id><published>2011-01-10T19:00:00.023-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T19:59:20.172-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='center ground'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gabrielle Giffords'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='assassination'/><title type='text'>A Perfect Storm</title><content type='html'>The only thing that surprised me about the tragic event in Tucson this past weekend was that it didn't happen sooner. My earliest memory of an historic event is the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I was 4-years-old at the time. Despite the fact no president has died in office since 1963, it was only about 10 years ago that I realized I no longer assumed that every President of the United States would die at the hands of an assassin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over an 18-year-period,&amp;nbsp; we had the assassination of JFK, then Martin Luther King, then Bobby Kennedy, then the attempt on the life of George Wallace, two attempts on the life of President Ford and one attempt on President Reagan, which likely would have succeeded had he not been so close to a hospital.. It seemed as though the violence would never end, but it did...for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like many Americans, I have been troubled by the political rhetoric of the past few years. Much of it seems designed to appeal specifically to people who might not be playing with a full deck. And yes, it comes from both sides of the political spectrum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TSuyzW7MlEI/AAAAAAAAAs4/ieMKrhGNppE/s1600/giffords2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TSuyzW7MlEI/AAAAAAAAAs4/ieMKrhGNppE/s1600/giffords2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;With 435 Congressional districts, it's impossible to be familiar with all of the U.S. Representatives, but I'm sorry I had never noticed Rep. Gabrielle Giffords before tragedy struck. It seems she is truly special, and I don't think it's just because of her injuries that her colleagues are being so generous with praise for her. In the few clips I've seen of her over the past few days, it's apparent that she is articulate, intelligent, reasonable, and thoughtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday, she sent an email to the newly appointed director of Harvard's Institute of Politics, Kentucky's current Secretary of State Trey Grayson, who is a Republican. "After you get settled, I would love to talk about what we can do to  promote centrism and moderation. I am one of only 12 Dems left in a GOP  district (the only woman) and think that we need to figure out how to  tone our rhetoric and partisanship down." I like politicians who work to bridge differences and find center ground. I think we need a lot more of them and I pray Rep. Giffords makes a full recovery and is able to return to her seat and help lead us to that center ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, extremists on both the left and the right seem to have contempt for the center. And it's those extremists - on the radio, on TV, and even in our circle of friends - who are the problem. These are the people who refuse to concede any ground, who refuse to consider the other other side, and who, far too often, refuse to consider the possibility that people with whom they disagree can love our country as much as they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are commentators on TV and radio who will say absolutely anything to make a buck. And when they are proven wrong - on any topic - they never admit they were wrong. They simply drop the topic and move onto something else. Meanwhile, they have riled people up. And some of the people they rile up are downright crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There has been a lot of discussion about whether or not the shooter on Saturday was liberal or conservative. I don't think it matters. The guy was crazy. Sane people don't do what he did. That doesn't absolve him of responsibility but we're never going to come up with a reason that makes sense when we dealing with a mad man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy began his obsession with Gabrielle Giffords before the rhetoric of the 2008 campaign heated up, and before the screaming of the Town Halls during the summer of 2009. It goes back much further than last year's map with crosshairs targeting 20 Democratic districts across the country, including that of Rep. Giffords. None of those things caused his obsession, but could they have reinforced it? Could he have seen any of those things as validation for his plan? None of us can say with any certainty, but the questions will always be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect what happened Saturday was the result of a perfect storm. It is the price we pay for living in a free society. It is the price we pay for access to our elected officials. It is the price we pay for easy access to guns. And it is the price we pay for the irresponsible comments of politicians, as well as radio and TV personalities who choose to use speech and imagery that is equivalent of yelling "FIRE!" in a crowded theater. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This act of violence will not lead us to make abrupt changes limiting our access to most elected officials or guns, but there is one thing we can change starting now. We can quit providing an audience for those who choose to speak irresponsibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words have consequences. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; ~ Psalm 19:14&lt;/span&gt; (NIV)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7254161925938134281?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7254161925938134281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/01/perfect-storm.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7254161925938134281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7254161925938134281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2011/01/perfect-storm.html' title='A Perfect Storm'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TSuyzW7MlEI/AAAAAAAAAs4/ieMKrhGNppE/s72-c/giffords2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5495795497836599889</id><published>2010-12-24T08:00:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T08:08:07.865-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Questions for Mary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nativity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>The Dinner Conversation</title><content type='html'>You know that parlor game, the one where you name the people you would most like to have dinner with? They can be living or dead, so it's often overwhelming to think of all the people who could make your list, and consequently they tend to be from the last couple of hundred years. Oh, sure, lots of people throw Jesus into the mix, but other than that, you'll often hear names like Lincoln, Churchill, and JFK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I have found myself thinking it would be fascinating to have a dinner conversation with Mary. Yes, THAT Mary. The Mary who doesn't often generate much in the way of curiosity among Southern Baptists, such as myself. We cover that angelic visitation thing with Gabriel and Mary's subsequent visit to her older cousin Elizabeth, who also found herself in the midst of a miraculous pregnancy, but then there's that whole stable scene where the angels and the shepherds seem to dominate as the baby in the manger takes center stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, Mary is relegated to a supporting player role with a few cameo scenes and her primary purpose seems to be to move the storyline along. Lately, I have found myself wondering, "What was she thinking?" At various points in the life of Jesus I am curious about how much she knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could talk to her, I would start with that visit from Gabriel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Mary, when he said, 'Do not be afraid,' were you really able to &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; be afraid?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"And when he told you the purpose of his visit, did you think you were imagining things? Were you able to so calmly respond with, 'May it be to me as you have said,' because you thought it was a dream?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRSiEJg7gTI/AAAAAAAAAsk/e9NsSsptW8Q/s1600/nativity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="244" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRSiEJg7gTI/AAAAAAAAAsk/e9NsSsptW8Q/s320/nativity.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;i&gt;"When did it become real to you? Was it when you saw Elizabeth in her sixth month? Was it when you began to feel the baby moving in your own womb? Was it in Bethlehem when you realized you weren't even going to have the dignity of a room at the inn in which to give birth to your first child? Did you long for the presence of your mother or any another woman to hold your hand and give you moral support?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Were you afraid then? Did God at least spare you the pain of childbirth, or was yours the most painful of all? Did you feel the full power of this cosmic mystery as you gave birth?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"What was Jesus like growing up? Was he like any other child up to a point, or was he always different? Was it when he stayed behind in Jerusalem to talk to the teachers that you first saw the signs that he was not like other children or were there signs before that?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Were you surprised that he took up carpentry, like Joseph, or did you always expect that? Did you spend your life waiting for the other shoe/sandal to drop, wondering at what point God would take him from your home to use him for greater things?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Did you know that once his ministry began, he would no longer belong to you? Or had you always felt that he didn't belong to you? Were you surprised by the stories of healings, or had you seen evidence  of his power before? Did he ever whip up dinner when there was nothing in the pantry?" &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Did it break your heart to hear the derogatory things that some people said about him, or had you been prepared for that? Did you know where this was headed? Did you expect him to sit on an earthly throne or did you always know how it would end? Was it a rolling revelation, or did the reality of his calling come to you for the first time on that awful Friday afternoon when the sun went dark?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Did he spend time with you and your family after the resurrection? What did he say to you? Did you understand it then, or was it years later that it began to make sense? Or did it ever fully make sense to you in this life?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Christmas Eve comes, it never ceases to amaze me to think of all the preparation it took in order for the pieces to come together in Bethlehem that night so long ago, or of the willing hearts that had to be open enough to say, "May it be to me as you have said."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May you feel the power of the risen Christ in your life on this day, and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”&lt;/i&gt; ~ Luke 1:30-33&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5495795497836599889?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5495795497836599889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/dinner-conversation.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5495795497836599889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5495795497836599889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/dinner-conversation.html' title='The Dinner Conversation'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRSiEJg7gTI/AAAAAAAAAsk/e9NsSsptW8Q/s72-c/nativity.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2989240930847434517</id><published>2010-12-21T23:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T09:48:33.434-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>The Spirit of Thankfulness Continues</title><content type='html'>I'm baaaaack! After eight days of coping with a stupid, stupid cold during the busiest month of the year, I'm back on track with much to catch up on in the way of thankfulness leading up to Christmas. From the trivial to the meaningful, here we go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRGLbSvr2rI/AAAAAAAAAsg/zI6jiYPWqJI/s1600/sick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRGLbSvr2rI/AAAAAAAAAsg/zI6jiYPWqJI/s1600/sick.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: MSNBC.com &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for over-the-counter cold medicine. It might not provide a cure, but at least it helps get some relief and the sleep you need until you can feel better. (And I'm thankful to &lt;i&gt;finally &lt;/i&gt;be feeling better.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for the sleep timer on my TV.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for my two cats who think it's their job to keep me warm while I sleep. Or maybe they think it's my job to keep them warm. Whichever it is, it works...although sometimes &lt;i&gt;too &lt;/i&gt;well. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for the countless hours that others put into preparing for Christmas programs so the rest of us can enjoy them..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for coworkers who make my job such a joy. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for friends and family who mean more and more with each passing year.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful that my sister and nephews will be here to spend Christmas with our family.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful my family decided to draw names this year so we can spend more time focusing on our time together.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for my niece and her family who moved back home this year. It's wonderful to see her do such a great job of being a mom.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for our first Christmas with my grandniece, who at 9-1/2 months should be a lot of fun to watch Christmas day. Heck, she's a lot of fun to watch &lt;i&gt;any &lt;/i&gt;day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am thankful for this time of year when we stop to remember the greatest gift of all, the gift of a Savior.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't say it often enough, but I am thankful for each one of you. You encourage me, you challenge me, and you enrich my life. Thanks for being a part of &lt;i&gt;Single and Sane&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I thank my God every time I remember you.&amp;nbsp; In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Philippians 1:3-6 (NIV)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2989240930847434517?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2989240930847434517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thankfulness-continues.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2989240930847434517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2989240930847434517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thankfulness-continues.html' title='The Spirit of Thankfulness Continues'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TRGLbSvr2rI/AAAAAAAAAsg/zI6jiYPWqJI/s72-c/sick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1209184860213916481</id><published>2010-12-11T00:00:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T00:00:03.411-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elizabeth Edwards'/><title type='text'>Spirit of Thanksgiving, Post #4 - Elizabeth's Shining Light</title><content type='html'>Now I know why smart bloggers did the sensible thing and wrote their posts about gratitude leading up to Thanksgiving instead of after the turkey was history. It's not that it's hard to continue the attitude of Thanksgiving throughout the Christmas season, it's just that December is a ridiculously crazy month. So while I'm only on post #4, rest assured that I'm not facing a shortage of things for which to be grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, as her family says their final goodbye - inasmuch as any of us can ever say a final goodbye to someone we love - I am thankful for the life of Elizabeth Edwards. Like many who never met her, I still felt as though I knew her, and I found her inspiring. What can be said about this woman that hasn't been said? She was articulate, she was passionate about the people and the things she believed in, she was determined, she was a force of nature, she was a devoted mother, and clearly from what we have heard from her friends, she was also a devoted friend. But all of that has been said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TQLwwEyqLdI/AAAAAAAAAsc/An3bgRczAYU/s1600/edwards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TQLwwEyqLdI/AAAAAAAAAsc/An3bgRczAYU/s320/edwards.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admired all of those things about her, but most of all, I admired how she lived out her faith in a public way, not by shouting about her beliefs, but by quietly showing us what is is to live as a follower of Christ when your world is crumbling around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that Elizabeth was inspired by &lt;i&gt;Terms of Endearment&lt;/i&gt; to begin writing a "dying letter" decades before she faced her own cancer. Apparently the movie convinced her of the need to make sure her children would always have the benefit of her maternal advice. I wonder if, when Wade died, she thought she had it backward. She was preparing her children in case they lost her one day, but then she unexpectedly lost her oldest child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was how Elizabeth handled the loss of her son that first got my attention when the Edwards hit the national scene. As all parents are when they lose a child, of course she was deeply affected, but she made the unusual decision to deal with her loss by having two more children when she was around 50. What an amazing amount of energy she must have had! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was over the course of the 2004 campaign that I came to feel as though I knew Elizabeth. The more I saw of her, the more I liked her. Her warmth always seemed to shine through, even when she was talking about some mundane policy position. Soon after the election, when we learned she had been diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer, I felt horrible for her children, but knew that she would get the best care possible and I hoped for the best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hoped for the best when the cancer returned in 2007 with its dire prognosis, but also with the possibility of managing it much like any chronic illness. She continued to campaign enthusiastically, and seemed so optimistic, that it was hard to believe that even cancer could take her down. She was criticized for some of her choices then, but I thought that was unfair. It was her life, after all, and I thought she should be able to spend whatever time she had left doing exactly what she wanted to do. After the campaign ended, she used her experience with cancer to reach out and help others, often speaking out for the need for health care reform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we found out about the girlfriend, it all began to seem too much for one person to have to take. But Elizabeth continued to show her inner strength. It was clear (and understandable) that she was angry, but she didn't allow herself to be defined as the wronged wife, anymore than she had allowed herself to be defined as a cancer victim. When it became clear that John had also lied about fathering the other woman's child, Elizabeth did what she had to do for herself - she separated from John. But even then, she didn't lose sight of the fact that the day would come when her children would be left with only one parent. Always pragmatic, she understood that she didn't have the luxury of turning her children against their father. She made sure that he would continue to play an active role in their lives, and allowed him to be with her and the rest of the family when she died. She showed a level of grace towards the man who betrayed her that many in her place might not have shown. It's an example I hope others will learn from, because children benefit when parents refuse to tear one another down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagine her "dying letter" is packed with wisdom. Over this week I have heard that it included everything from how to core a head of lettuce to how to choose a church. I suspect there's also a lot about how to treat others and how to show your faith through your actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the days since she died, I have thought of that song we all learned as children, "This Little Light of Mine". I can picture Elizabeth teaching her children, "Hide it under a bushel? No! I'm gonna let it shine! Let it shine! Let it shine! Let it shine!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the  Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to  me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."&lt;/i&gt; ~ 2 Timothy 4:7-8&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1209184860213916481?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1209184860213916481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thanksgiving-post-4.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1209184860213916481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1209184860213916481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thanksgiving-post-4.html' title='Spirit of Thanksgiving, Post #4 - Elizabeth&apos;s Shining Light'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TQLwwEyqLdI/AAAAAAAAAsc/An3bgRczAYU/s72-c/edwards.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5190893907418978855</id><published>2010-12-02T18:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T22:03:42.298-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas trees'/><title type='text'>Spirit of Thanksgiving, Post #3 (The Smallest Tree)</title><content type='html'>As I strive to continue the Spirit of Thanksgiving throughout the holiday season, today I am thankful for small Christmas trees. This is also my shameless attempt to win an itty bitty candy cane, courtesy of Lea at &lt;a href="http://myletterstoemily.blogspot.com/2010/12/smallest-tree.html"&gt;My Letters to Emily&lt;/a&gt;. Her contest was inspired by &lt;a href="http://ahavenforvee.blogspot.com/2010/11/tree-and-early-gift.html"&gt;A Haven for Vee's 3-foot tree&lt;/a&gt;, which I believe totally defies its small stature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not all about my competitive nature though. I really am thankful for small trees, since they grace my home with a festive spirit during the Christmas seasons that I choose not to put up a tree, or when time gets away from me before that deed can be accomplished. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the trees I made for my mantel. The picture is not great, because I cropped it from last year's pictures, but you get the idea. These trees are still in the closet, waiting to grace my living room, once again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx8P0GEBI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/i2w54M2NNhw/s1600/Christmas+Trees+on+Mantel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx8P0GEBI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/i2w54M2NNhw/s320/Christmas+Trees+on+Mantel.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the lopsidedness is part of their charm. ;-)&amp;nbsp; The ceramic tree (just to the left of the tree on the far right) rotates as it plays &lt;i&gt;Angels We Have Heard on High&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is the whimsical tree that sits on my coffee table. Again, an unfortunate cropping job from last year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx8e3a8eI/AAAAAAAAAsU/o72Sv7sAmck/s1600/Christmas+Whimsical+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx8e3a8eI/AAAAAAAAAsU/o72Sv7sAmck/s320/Christmas+Whimsical+Tree.jpg" width="178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is the retro pink tinsel tree that I love for the fun bit of kitsch that it brings to my life each December...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx66EdWsI/AAAAAAAAAsM/2zXNBsjoXRs/s1600/Christmas+Tinsel+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx66EdWsI/AAAAAAAAAsM/2zXNBsjoXRs/s320/Christmas+Tinsel+Tree.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there is the tiniest tree, the only one that is actually out so far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx9dQ4DmI/AAAAAAAAAsY/aCeW81LJhvI/s1600/Christmas+Tiny+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx9dQ4DmI/AAAAAAAAAsY/aCeW81LJhvI/s320/Christmas+Tiny+Tree.jpg" width="252" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;There is a bit of an optical illusion in the picture below - it's about 4-3/4" high, but it looks even shorter next to the yardstick, thanks to the angle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx6SDtjZI/AAAAAAAAAsI/8EfeAnIk4vU/s1600/Christmas+Tiny+Tree+Measured.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx6SDtjZI/AAAAAAAAAsI/8EfeAnIk4vU/s320/Christmas+Tiny+Tree+Measured.jpg" width="219" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday, it will go to my grandniece (along with the dollhouse I originally purchased it for) when she is old enough for such an itsy bitsy treasure. For now, it's my tiniest tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an  example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and  in purity.&lt;/i&gt; ~ I Timothy 4:12&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5190893907418978855?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5190893907418978855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thanksgiving-post-3-smallest.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5190893907418978855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5190893907418978855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/12/spirit-of-thanksgiving-post-3-smallest.html' title='Spirit of Thanksgiving, Post #3 (The Smallest Tree)'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPgx8P0GEBI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/i2w54M2NNhw/s72-c/Christmas+Trees+on+Mantel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1522873095238266098</id><published>2010-11-28T21:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T21:00:00.428-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>Spirit of Thanksgiving, Day 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Today, as I continue my Thanksgiving posts leading up to Christmas, I am thankful for the long Thanksgiving weekend, which began on Wednesday. The extra time off provided me the time to do things I rarely have the opportunity to do around the house - things like pulling the sofas out to vacuum underneath. It provided me time to visit with family not only on Thanksgiving, but on Friday, as well. It provided me 3 out of 5 days when I did not have to set my alarm.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPK2kVhLDjI/AAAAAAAAAsE/S22tGpA9iSQ/s1600/No+alarm+clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPK2kVhLDjI/AAAAAAAAAsE/S22tGpA9iSQ/s200/No+alarm+clock.jpg" width="181" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It provided me time to visit stores and go online to search for the gift my brother, sister, and I will give to our mother for Christmas. It provided me with a quiet Sunday afternoon to stop by the office and prepare for the upcoming week, which is always a particularly hectic one, as it follows such a short work week. It provided the time to organize the project I actually began for my niece 35 years ago, and hope to finish for her daughter before Christmas.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Yes, you read that last sentence correctly. ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="NPST"&gt;&lt;span class="reftext"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.cc/1_thessalonians/5-16.htm"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Be joyful always; &lt;span class="reftext"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.cc/1_thessalonians/5-17.htm"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;pray continually; &lt;span class="reftext"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.cc/1_thessalonians/5-18.htm"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.&lt;/i&gt; ~ I Thessalonians 5:16-18&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1522873095238266098?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1522873095238266098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/spirit-of-thanksgiving-day-2.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1522873095238266098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1522873095238266098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/spirit-of-thanksgiving-day-2.html' title='Spirit of Thanksgiving, Day 2'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPK2kVhLDjI/AAAAAAAAAsE/S22tGpA9iSQ/s72-c/No+alarm+clock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2503669809032979017</id><published>2010-11-27T21:00:00.014-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T21:03:10.382-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratitude'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>The Spirit of Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>All week, I intended to write a Thanksgiving post based on &lt;a href="http://www.thechurchofnopeople.com/2010/11/youve-got-something-in-your-nose"&gt;a post written by Matt at The Church of No People last Monday&lt;/a&gt;. It's taken until Saturday, but I'm finally getting around to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his post, Matt talked about how we spend Thursday focused on being thankful for all we have, only to hit the stores &lt;strike&gt;at the crack of&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;i&gt;long before &lt;/i&gt;dawn on Friday because we want more. People are only too anxious to leave Thanksgiving in the dust as they camp out in parking lots waiting for Black Friday sales to begin. The irony is that as Thanksgiving ends and we turn our attention towards Christmas, we celebrate the gift of Christ by becoming so consumer-minded that, too often, we lose our gratitude for the greatest gift ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPHDCzT8mLI/AAAAAAAAAsA/l7XC84BErtQ/s1600/thanksgiving-turkey-banner-graphicsfairy003b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPHDCzT8mLI/AAAAAAAAAsA/l7XC84BErtQ/s200/thanksgiving-turkey-banner-graphicsfairy003b.jpg" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: &lt;a href="http://www.backgroundfairy.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.backgroundfairy.com/"&gt;Background Fairy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;My comment on Matt's post was about how so many bloggers had used the first 25 days in November to write daily posts about things that fill them with gratitude. Those posts were all wonderful to read, and humbling as they reminded me of so many things I have for which to be grateful. I suggested that to keep that spirit of gratitude through the Christmas season, maybe the posts should begin with Thanksgiving and lead up to Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what I plan to do for the next few weeks. I'm not promising a daily post, because keeping a tight blogging schedule is not one of my gifts. But we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am grateful for the time spent with family on Thanksgiving. Thursday was spent with cousins we only see once or twice a year. Their grandmother and my grandmother were twin sisters, and growing up, our families often spent Thanksgiving together. As the twins got older and each lost their husbands, the custom fell by the wayside. My cousins recently decided to revive the tradition, and I'm grateful for that. Of the twins' children, only my mother and one son on their side of the family (and his wife) are left. It's wonderful to see them together on Thanksgiving, as they were on so many other Thanksgivings, long before the rest of us came along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about you? What were you grateful for this Thanksgiving? How do you maintain that spirit of gratitude through the holidays? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations&lt;/i&gt;. ~ Psalm 100:4-5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2503669809032979017?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2503669809032979017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/spirit-of-thanksgiving.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2503669809032979017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2503669809032979017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/spirit-of-thanksgiving.html' title='The Spirit of Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TPHDCzT8mLI/AAAAAAAAAsA/l7XC84BErtQ/s72-c/thanksgiving-turkey-banner-graphicsfairy003b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7892065053497522925</id><published>2010-11-16T18:15:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T18:26:08.796-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weddings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='royalty'/><title type='text'>Royal Wedding!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOMLuz4g7gI/AAAAAAAAAr0/4eg3nkNb7Gw/s1600/anne+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOMLuz4g7gI/AAAAAAAAAr0/4eg3nkNb7Gw/s200/anne+wedding.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;I'm a sucker for a royal wedding. I was in the 9th grade when I got up in the middle of the night to watch Princess Anne's wedding to Capt. Mark Phillips. (&lt;i&gt;Goodness, I had to think awhile before I could pull that name out of the deep recesses of my mind.&lt;/i&gt;) It was a beautful wedding, but the marriage didn't turn out so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight years later, I got up in the middle of the night to watch Lady Diana Spencer marry Prince Charles. The wedding didn't disappoint. Diana's dress was truly fit for a princess, and the scale of the event was beyond any fairytale that I ever read. But as everyone knows, &lt;i&gt;that &lt;/i&gt;marriage didn't turn out so well, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOML5cDcRLI/AAAAAAAAAr4/kRsdWtoOobg/s1600/diana+and+charles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="151" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOML5cDcRLI/AAAAAAAAAr4/kRsdWtoOobg/s200/diana+and+charles.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five years after that, I got up in the middle of the night to watch the wedding of Sarah Ferguson and Prince Andrew. Yeah, &lt;i&gt;well&lt;/i&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prince Edward is still married, isnt' he? I feel sure that I got in the middle of the night for that wedding, too, but I really don't remember for sure. You see, by the time Edward married Sophie Rhys-Jones, I didn't have much hope for royal marriages...certainly not for the marriages of Queen Elizabeth's children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have much more hope for William and Kate. They're mature enough to know themselves, and they've certainly dated long enough to know one another. I was initially a little creeped out by William's choice of a ring - the same sapphire ring that we first saw on Diana's finger nearly 30 years ago, but I love his sentimental reason for choosing it. "&lt;i&gt;It was my way of making sure my mother didn't miss out on today and the  excitement, and the fact that we're going to spend the rest of our  lives together&lt;/i&gt;." William says that their relationship began as a friendship, providing a strong foundation for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were already rooting for them just from the pictures we had seen, but they were terribly endearing in their engagement interview. Their excitement is obvious, as is their love for one another. While Diana was clearly infatuated with Charles, I'm not sure she ever loved him, and he certainly didn't seem to love her. Remember Charles' comment in their engagement interview? As I recall, when asked if they loved one another, Charles' response was something like, "Whatever love is." &lt;i&gt;Ouch&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOMMOmGddsI/AAAAAAAAAr8/L3oxQihzSbI/s1600/william+and+kate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="110" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOMMOmGddsI/AAAAAAAAAr8/L3oxQihzSbI/s200/william+and+kate.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;NBC News&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Despite the mean tone of the nickname given to Kate by the press, &lt;i&gt;Waity Katie&lt;/i&gt;, perhaps she was willing to wait so long because she learned something from her future father-in-law's life. Charles, too, had a difficult time committing to a young woman he dated, and she eventually tired of waiting and married someone else. While Charles and Camilla married many years later - after a failed first marriage for each - I can't help but wonder how much heartache could have been avoided if Camilla had shown Kate's patience when she was younger. But then if Camilla had been a patient woman, there wouldn't have been a William for Kate to marry, would there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that despite the ups and downs that Kate and William will undoubtedly face in their life together, that their marriage will survive, and they will look back and feel as though they each received the fairy-tale ending that so eluded all those other royal couples... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.&lt;/i&gt; ~ I Corinthians 13:4-7&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7892065053497522925?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7892065053497522925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/royal-wedding.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7892065053497522925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7892065053497522925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/royal-wedding.html' title='Royal Wedding!'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TOMLuz4g7gI/AAAAAAAAAr0/4eg3nkNb7Gw/s72-c/anne+wedding.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2186200367656512885</id><published>2010-11-12T20:00:00.017-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T20:16:37.070-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God working within us'/><title type='text'>More Than We Can Imagine</title><content type='html'>To tell you the truth, up until this week, fall around here was looking like a dud. It has been fairly warm and terribly dry, with less than half our normal rainfall since the first of September. Leaves were falling in my yard without any fanfare - just brown leaves making a mess. To say that I was disappointed in our fall foliage would be an understatement and I found having to rake the dull leaves just added insult to injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But over the last week, our dreary fall was rescued. Much like fireworks when you start to ask, "Is that all there is?" the trees that still bore their leaves turned glorious shades of yellow, red, and orange, and every tree seemed to be trying to outdo its neighbor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took pictures along my drive to work this morning. See how beautiful they are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3R9Zuk7bI/AAAAAAAAArY/qNUuYF9leic/s1600/Nov+12+2011+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="202" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3R9Zuk7bI/AAAAAAAAArY/qNUuYF9leic/s320/Nov+12+2011+005.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3ScxE-HjI/AAAAAAAAAro/Lgl6-wCg51A/s1600/Nov+12+2011+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="249" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3ScxE-HjI/AAAAAAAAAro/Lgl6-wCg51A/s320/Nov+12+2011+009.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SdmM6azI/AAAAAAAAArs/DV9kW4UxF0E/s1600/Nov+12+2011+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SdmM6azI/AAAAAAAAArs/DV9kW4UxF0E/s320/Nov+12+2011+010.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SeRLILbI/AAAAAAAAArw/U-aeTVp8Fv0/s1600/Nov+12+2011+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SeRLILbI/AAAAAAAAArw/U-aeTVp8Fv0/s320/Nov+12+2011+012.jpg" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SbzJ232I/AAAAAAAAArk/ahGDCQUyAe8/s1600/Nov+12+2011+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3SbzJ232I/AAAAAAAAArk/ahGDCQUyAe8/s320/Nov+12+2011+013.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What a wonderful reminder that God isn't finished with us, even during those times that we think he is, and that he who started the work will be faithful to complete it in you...and in me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;/div&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.~ Ephesians 3:20-21&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2186200367656512885?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2186200367656512885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/more-than-we-can-imagine.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2186200367656512885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2186200367656512885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/more-than-we-can-imagine.html' title='More Than We Can Imagine'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TN3R9Zuk7bI/AAAAAAAAArY/qNUuYF9leic/s72-c/Nov+12+2011+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3074166351511108664</id><published>2010-11-11T00:00:00.011-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T00:00:00.727-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alone for Thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alone for the holidays'/><title type='text'>Thankfully Alone (Redux)</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Thanksgiving is just a couple of weeks away so I'm reprising a post from last year. If you're going to be alone on Thanksgiving, now's the time to start planning how you will spend your day so you can make the most of it...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can ask anyone. I'm not a people person. I'm task-oriented, and to be  honest, I thrive on alone-time. Those of you who are not task-oriented  seem to think that's a character flaw. That's okay, because like  everyone else who is task-oriented, I know you would be lost without  people like me. We're the ones who can focus long enough to figure out the  things that seem to overwhelm you. (I suddenly have an awful feeling  I stole that line from &lt;i&gt;The Big Bang Theory&lt;/i&gt;.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If  you're task-oriented and single, it's a saving grace. Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I'm running across blogs about how awful it is to be  alone on Thanksgiving. I get that, I know being alone on a holiday is  hard for a lot of people. But the task-oriented side of me wants to  scream, "&lt;b&gt;FIND SOMETHING TO DO AND YOU'LL GET OVER IT!!!&lt;/b&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  have been alone on Thanksgiving, and while the first time was dreadful  -- largely because of the full-fledged pity party I threw myself -- I  had a plan in place the next year. I accepted that a whole day with no  place to be and nothing I had to do a month before Christmas is nothing  less than a gift from God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNoAMoB0EmI/AAAAAAAAArU/jr98wZ_VpEo/s1600/Cartoon+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNoAMoB0EmI/AAAAAAAAArU/jr98wZ_VpEo/s1600/Cartoon+Tree.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You see, I love for my house  to be decorated for Christmas, but it doesn't always happen because the  time to get it done is so hard to come by. So I decided to use that day  alone to my advantage and I began a tradition of putting my Christmas  tree up on Thanksgiving Day. Granted, this only works if you have an  artificial tree, because burning the house down would be grounds for  more self-pity, but since I have cats (there's that whole &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2009/10/crazy-cat-ladies-and-contentment.html"&gt;Borderline Crazy Cat Lady&lt;/a&gt;  thing), I find an artificial tree is the only way to go. You can also  leave an artificial tree up as long as you want, which is clearly  another advantage. (One year I woke up on January 8th to discover an  unexpected snowstorm had hit overnight. Obviously even God was  embarrassed that my tree was still up and he gave me another gift - a  surprise snow day to take the thing down!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the  years, my Thanksgiving Day plan changed a little. One year I had single  friends over for Thanksgiving dinner. A couple of years I baked my  grandmother's pumpkin chiffon pie to take to another friend's house. But  as soon as I could, I'd get my tree out and start decorating. That  allowed me to relax and enjoy the weeks leading up to Christmas, smiling  to myself each time I opened my front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent  years, my family has been in town for Thanksgiving, and we have begun  spending the day with the cousins we used to spend Thanksgiving with  when we were kids. It's a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving that makes me  want to sing "Over the River and through the Woods..." as it brings back  memories of grandparents and parents who are no longer with us. I love  these Thanksgivings, but I know that should I find myself alone again on  Thanksgiving Day, it will be okay because I have a plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe  your plan is different. Maybe you want to stay in your pajamas all day  and watch Christmas movies or sit down with that book that you've been  wanting to read. If you're a people-person, you can sign up to serve  food at a shelter, or if you love to cook, you can have other singles or  empty-nest couples over to your house for dinner. (Don't assume you're  the only one in the world who is alone for Thanksgiving. Ask around and  you'll find others who will be by themselves, and while some are  perfectly happy to spend the day alone, others are hoping for an  invitation.) If you don't like to cook, make the meal potluck. If you  like to organize people, get a group together to cook and take food to  the home-bound in your neighborhood or your church. The point is to find  something that suits your personality, keeps you busy, and fills you  with a spirit of Thanksgiving...no matter how you choose to spend the  day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;...give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus&lt;/i&gt;." - I Thessalonians 5:18&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3074166351511108664?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3074166351511108664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/thankfully-alone-redux.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3074166351511108664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3074166351511108664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/thankfully-alone-redux.html' title='Thankfully Alone (Redux)'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNoAMoB0EmI/AAAAAAAAArU/jr98wZ_VpEo/s72-c/Cartoon+Tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8573986974660508541</id><published>2010-11-08T00:00:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T00:00:04.209-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cognitive Dissonance Day'/><title type='text'>Cognitive Dissonance Day</title><content type='html'>I've decided to start a new tradition at &lt;i&gt;Single and San&lt;/i&gt;e: &lt;b&gt;Cognitive Dissonance Day&lt;/b&gt;. I'm not sure how often I'll do it, but once in awhile, I'm going to pay tribute to that uncomfortable feeling caused by mixing conflicting ideas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first entry: &lt;i&gt;Sleeveless dresses with boots. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNd58l-542I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Ker-UtSMsxg/s1600/drsbt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNd58l-542I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Ker-UtSMsxg/s320/drsbt.jpg" width="249" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about you, but boots make my feet miserably hot, and a sleeveless dress in boot season would make my arms miserably cold. I really don't see the point of dressing to mimic menopause when diminishing hormones achieve the same effect more than&lt;strike&gt;&lt;/strike&gt; adequately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about you? Could you wear boots with a sleeveless dress?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8573986974660508541?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8573986974660508541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/cognitive-dissonance-day.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8573986974660508541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8573986974660508541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/cognitive-dissonance-day.html' title='Cognitive Dissonance Day'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNd58l-542I/AAAAAAAAArQ/Ker-UtSMsxg/s72-c/drsbt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1470794633474511708</id><published>2010-11-04T05:00:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T13:35:52.001-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>Healthy Things Grow...</title><content type='html'>In &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-see-dead-people.html"&gt;my last post&lt;/a&gt; I focused on those of us who have been around our own churches for a long time, and the memories we have of those who have played a role in our lives through the church. I told you how I have often missed the things newer members see - things like bad lighting and peeling paint - because I see beyond the walls of the church. I see the people who have played a role in my walk with Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't want to leave you with the wrong impression. I believe that understanding where a church has been is important. It shows you where God has been at work within that body and that knowledge serves as inspiration, much as the Hall of Faith in Hebrews 11. But it's not everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just as those mentioned in Hebrews did not see all things promised, those who came before us in our churches only saw the promises and welcomed them from a distance. They set the cornerstone, but they didn't see where God would take it from there.&lt;br /&gt;You may not have read my early posts. There is one where I talked about &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2009/06/leaving-yard.html"&gt;returning to church after my extended break from organized religion&lt;/a&gt;. The break began around 9th grade and didn't end until my early 30s, when I felt God calling me back. I spent several years struggling with him over that, but finally one Sunday, I found myself standing in the balcony of the church where I had spent much of my childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the tacky blue carpet that people complained about from the day that it was installed, and I knew that I had come home. But it still took another year before I was willing to do anything beyond sneaking into the balcony for worship and then making a run for the parking garage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of the people I remembered were gone, but the pastor who had baptized me when I was 7 was still there. The music minister was still there. Very little had changed. I found that comforting. To me, it symbolized the unchanging nature of God. But it wasn't healthy for a church to undergo so little change over so many years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Healthy things grow; growing things change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been back about 6 months, still sneaking in and out of the balcony, when the service ended one Sunday with the pastor making an announcement. After 35 years, he was retiring. God had brought me back for the last few months that the church would be the same as I remembered it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would take a year to find our new pastor. (It's a Baptist thing - we pick our own pastors.) During that year, &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-not-celebrity-get-me-out-of-here.html"&gt;I took the step beyond worship into a Sunday school class and I became involved in the life of the church&lt;/a&gt;. More than that, I began to grow deeper in my faith for the first time as an adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new pastor came, bringing a word we didn't know much about: &lt;i&gt;change&lt;/i&gt;. He was with us for just under 5 years, but he did a fair amount of heavy lifting during that time, laying the groundwork for what was to come. The biggest change was adding a contemporary service, back when that was still a new concept. He encouraged us to become less inwardly-focused, and more focused on taking Jesus beyond the walls of the church. We began to see more and more members called to the mission field. And the church that had become a little stale, began to grow again. It began to feel fresh, even with the dated blue carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Healthy things grow; growing things change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came as a jolt when the new pastor was called to another church. (That Baptist thing again. It works out okay when you're the church doing the calling, but it doesn't feel nearly as good to be on the other end of the call.) It took 2 years and 3 interim pastors before we found our current pastor. It was a &lt;i&gt;long &lt;/i&gt;2 years. And God rewarded us for that &lt;i&gt;long &lt;/i&gt;wait with a 29-year-old. We consoled ourselves by saying that he was "almost 30." But even as young as he was, God had prepared him, just as he had prepared us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a little over 10 years ago and naturally, there have been a lot more changes in those 10 years. There have been changes that have reinforced things God was already doing. There have been changes in our attitudes. There have been changes in people's lives. There have been changes that have continued to encourage us to grow  closer to Christ, and to share Jesus with others through missions, at  home and beyond. There have been changes that have allowed us to reach out to those who are struggling financially, which has become an even greater need over the last couple of years. There have been changes to accommodate growing ministries to children and youth. There have been changes to our facilities - &lt;i&gt;the much-maligned blue carpet is no longer around&lt;/i&gt; - so there are fewer distractions for those who are visiting. There are changes to the membership, bringing new people who share our lives and who encourage us. Undoubtedly some will fill tomorrow's memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been changes that have been downright inconvenient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNIgJYGByBI/AAAAAAAAArM/doWdY5Vy1Vo/s1600/Chapel+Construction.JPG" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNIgJYGByBI/AAAAAAAAArM/doWdY5Vy1Vo/s400/Chapel+Construction.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNIbk8s7yhI/AAAAAAAAArE/BRxg2zu46nU/s1600/Construction+Old+Office+Area.JPG" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNIbk8s7yhI/AAAAAAAAArE/BRxg2zu46nU/s400/Construction+Old+Office+Area.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;But that's okay. Much like the changes God performs in our lives, those changes are necessary. So while we remember those who have come before us, and those with whom we have shared our lives, we know that we can't spend too much time looking back. We must live in the present, even as we look forward to the future and the changes it will bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Healthy things grow; growing things change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not  receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a  distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth&lt;/i&gt;.~ Hebrews 11:13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1470794633474511708?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1470794633474511708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/healthy-things-grow.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1470794633474511708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1470794633474511708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/healthy-things-grow.html' title='Healthy Things Grow...'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TNIgJYGByBI/AAAAAAAAArM/doWdY5Vy1Vo/s72-c/Chapel+Construction.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3236281239732342614</id><published>2010-11-01T00:00:00.027-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T13:26:04.019-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Body of Christ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='role-models'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saints'/><title type='text'>I See Dead People</title><content type='html'>A number of years ago, I was talking to a newer member of my church and he brought up the shabby appearance of our buildings. Up until that conversation, I hadn't noticed the peeling paint or the poorly lit rooms that he pointed out. He wasn't alone. Others who didn't have a history in our church had issues that seemed trivial to me, things such as the carpet in the sanctuary. While I was fully aware of the blue carpet's dated and worn appearance - carpet that was &lt;i&gt;never &lt;/i&gt;attractive - it didn't bother me the way it seemed to bother those who didn't yet have relationships within the church..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was when I first realized that just as new members see things that I can't see, those of us who have been around for years see things that &lt;i&gt;they&lt;/i&gt; can't see. The difference is that - in addition to the people who we see in the flesh - we can see people who are long gone, people from our past who have impacted our lives, people who played a role in building our faith. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walk in one door, I see myself as a 3-year-old running up a ramp along with my very first, very best friend, our young moms trailing behind us. Betty, my friend's mom has been gone for years now. Her dad, Lloyd, passed away just a few years ago, but when I walk in another door, I can see him walking up to visitors, extending his hand to make them feel welcome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I turn towards the back of the sanctuary, I see Mr. Wester, who used to lift me high into the air after Sunday night services, much as my friends do now, although figuratively. &lt;i&gt;I'm not nearly as easy to lift now as I was when I was 6.&lt;/i&gt; ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I walk down the stairs towards the library, I see Daisy and Kendall. They were quite a pair. Daisy was my first-grade Sunday school teacher and I see her wearing a fur stole and peep-toed shoes. I can still see Kendall in his wide ties that, unlike Daisy's old-fashioned stole and shoes, were about to come back into style. Even as a young child, I sensed that they were from another era. I also sensed their deep and abiding love for God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walk through the lobby, I am greeted by Reggie - who is very much alive - but I also see his wife, Pat. Pat died six years ago last month, just a couple of weeks before my dad passed away. I don't remember a time when Pat wasn't sharing her gifts with the church, and I can clearly see her the last time we talked, as she encouraged me in my own service. As I walk by the elevators, I can see Austin greeting people as he did each Sunday, asking them which floor they needed. I see Art and Henry standing at a door that's a little off the beaten path, but where they faithfully served for decades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we greet one another during the service, I still see Vera Mae seated behind me. Vera Mae served as the pastor's secretary for well over 40 years - make that the &lt;i&gt;pastors'&lt;/i&gt; secretary. She served two different pastors during her working years at our church and stayed on a little longer than she probably would have preferred in order to help a third pastor through his first couple of months on staff.I cannot imagine a better role model for serving the Lord in singleness.Vera Mae loved the Lord, and she loved people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I talk to one of my friends, I can picture his parents teaching me when I was in kindergarten. It was his dad who I first remember teaching me not to worry about a literal time frame with God, to whom a day is like a thousand years,&amp;nbsp;and a thousand years like a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I look up in the balcony, I see my own family sitting together on the second row. There's another family sitting there now, and I pray those kids - who are now young adults - will have memories of our church that are as fond as my own. And I pray that they will realize that the church is not brick and mortar, but rather &lt;i&gt;people &lt;/i&gt;who will fill their memories - for it is those people who make up the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TM34z_CseBI/AAAAAAAAAq8/uT6DrJhoOfw/s1600/50s+Men+of+the+Church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="120" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TM34z_CseBI/AAAAAAAAAq8/uT6DrJhoOfw/s400/50s+Men+of+the+Church.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't come from a tradition that celebrates All Saints Day, but it still seems appropriate to remember these giants of faith today, for they are among the saints of the church - both known and unknown. These are the people who shared their love for the Lord with me. And I thank my God each time I remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,  let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily  entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."&lt;/i&gt; ~ Hebrews 12:1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3236281239732342614?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3236281239732342614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-see-dead-people.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3236281239732342614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3236281239732342614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-see-dead-people.html' title='I See Dead People'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TM34z_CseBI/AAAAAAAAAq8/uT6DrJhoOfw/s72-c/50s+Men+of+the+Church.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4393713734992871804</id><published>2010-10-26T20:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T21:26:48.130-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singleness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childlessness'/><title type='text'>The Mommy Card</title><content type='html'>I don't think I have ever come out and said this on my blog, but if you have read my blog for any length of time, you may have figured out that I live in Oklahoma. You know, the place where the wind comes sweeping down the plain, where football reigns supreme, and where we think of ourselves as America's heartland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="156" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TMckm1TAroI/AAAAAAAAAq4/0xr7Y88TT8g/s200/oklahoma.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TMckm1TAroI/AAAAAAAAAq4/0xr7Y88TT8g/s1600/oklahoma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This coming Tuesday, we will join the ranks of states who have elected women governors since, for the first time in Oklahoma history, both the Republican and Democratic candidates for governor are women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's wonderful that we have reached a point where a woman will lead our state, however many of us are less than thrilled with our choices. Like many Oklahomans, I voted for someone other than the nominee in my party's primary. It's not that either woman is totally unqualified for the position. Both have served as lieutenant governor, and I have voted for each woman (at least &lt;i&gt;once&lt;/i&gt;) prior to this election. It just seems that there were others in both parties who were better qualified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said that, in the interest of full disclosure, I have leaned towards one candidate over the other over a moral issue in the other candidate's life. It's an issue that came up after I voted for her a number of years ago - one which I feel has never been honestly addressed by this candidate. Had she ever come clean publicly it would no longer be an issue But instead of admitting her own failing, she has repeatedly chosen to shift the blame, and I believe that speaks volumes about her character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have not been excited about this vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly over the last week our gubernatorial race has received national attention, and I feel my choice has been validated. Perhaps you've heard about it. Last Tuesday during a debate, the candidate I was leaning against - who is the mother of two and the (&lt;i&gt;very&lt;/i&gt; recent) stepmother of four - was asked what set her apart from her opponent. This was her answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Being a mother and a wife is an important part of who I am as a person.  I have been a businesswoman and served in both state and federal  government, but I think my proudest achievement is raising my wonderful  children. If I am asked  what 'defines' me, either as a candidate or as a person, I can't ignore  being a mother or being a wife any more than I could my gender, my  Christian faith, my conservative values, or my experience in both the  private and public sector. All of those things affect who I am and how I  see the world. They have absolutely nothing to do with my opponent, who  is free to explain how her life experiences qualify her to be  governor."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? Marriage and motherhood are her primary qualifications to be governor? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her opponent has never been married and has no children so this can be construed as nothing other than a particularly mean-spirited, low blow. And while it opened the door through which her opponent could have easily stuck back and brought up the moral failing in this candidate's life, to her credit, she (the opponent) has chosen not to do so - at least so far. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When later asked if she lacked an important credential, the  opponent spoke for many of us, saying,&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;"I always expected  to be married and have a passel full of kids, &lt;/i&gt;[Editor's note: I would never have chosen the phrase, 'passel full,' but whatever...]&lt;i&gt; but none of that ever  happened. Rather than sit back and  worry about it, I devoted my life to trying to serve all the children of  Oklahoma." &lt;/i&gt;She also pointed out - with some humor - that not one of our past governors has been a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This issue is precisely why I started writing &lt;i&gt;Single and Sane&lt;/i&gt;. I wanted to encourage other single women and men whose lives haven't turned out the way they expected. I wanted younger adults to understand that there is nothing wrong with singleness. And I wanted those who have been blessed with marriage and children to understand that God has blessed those of us who are single, too, even though he has chosen to do so in different ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is appalling to me that a woman who is a candidate for the highest office in my state would suggest that a childless woman is "less than". It's true that even male candidates trot out their families for photo ops, and often imply through their ads that being a husband and father makes them more "solid" candidates. It's wrong, regardless of whether a man or woman does it, but it seems deliberately cruel when it comes from another woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found the response of many Oklahoma parents to be gratifying. They have been as offended by the comment as those of us who are childless. They understand that there are many Oklahomans who struggle with the pain of miscarriage and infertility, and are &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; in any way "less than" anyone with children. They understand that there are many people &lt;i&gt;with &lt;/i&gt;children who make horrible parents. They understand that God blesses each of us differently, and that &lt;i&gt;any &lt;/i&gt;one type of blessing does make us better than another. They understand that God doesn't desire for all of us to have identical lives and experiences, and it is those different experiences that enable each of us to make valuable contributions to the world. They understand that marriage and children do not make us whole. They understand that motherhood - or the absence thereof - should neither qualify nor disqualify a candidate for any office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful for the Oklahoma parents who have spoken up for those of us without children. On behalf of the childless women (and men) across my state, thank you!&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"Sing, O childless woman, you who have never given birth! Break into  loud and joyful song, O Jerusalem, you who have never been in labor. For  the desolate woman now has more children than the woman who lives with  her husband," says the LORD.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; ~ Isaiah 54:1 (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;NLT&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4393713734992871804?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4393713734992871804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/mommy-card.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4393713734992871804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4393713734992871804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/mommy-card.html' title='The Mommy Card'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TMckm1TAroI/AAAAAAAAAq4/0xr7Y88TT8g/s72-c/oklahoma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4011044389018181920</id><published>2010-10-20T22:00:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T23:27:44.069-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s voice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie Ferwerda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s timing'/><title type='text'>Book Review: A Perfect Fit</title><content type='html'>In June, I wrote my list of &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/30-things-i-vow-to-do-this-summer.html"&gt;30 things I hoped to accomplish over the summer&lt;/a&gt;. One of the items was &lt;strike&gt;reading more&lt;/strike&gt; reading. Sadly, that didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was actually so optimistic that I signed up with a publisher to do book reviews. While I was waiting for the first book to arrive - which took about 5 weeks - I was given the opportunity to review a book by &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.julieferwerda.com/"&gt;Julie Ferwerda&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. It's a newly revised edition of a book that was originally published in 2004, &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984357807?tag=single0c-20&amp;amp;camp=213761&amp;amp;creative=393545&amp;amp;linkCode=bpl&amp;amp;creativeASIN=0984357807&amp;amp;adid=1683M671F7SFK5WZTPPM&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Perfect Fit, Piecing Together True Love&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TL-si8vpNDI/AAAAAAAAAqs/FwMJSW3gXp8/s1600/pefect-fit-cover-145px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TL-si8vpNDI/AAAAAAAAAqs/FwMJSW3gXp8/s1600/pefect-fit-cover-145px.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was excited by the opportunity, but I must confess to mixed emotions. Reading someone else's love story is &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; my idea of a good time. I don't even read romance novels because they just make me cranky. But I like &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.julieferwerda.com/"&gt;Julie's blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, so I decided to go for it. Then all summer I felt bad because I never found the time to read the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I remedied that situation and I was more than rewarded for my time. Yes, it's a love story, but while Julie tells us all about meeting and eventually marrying Steve Ferwerda, the real love story is between Julie and God. Throughout the book, Julie shares God's guidance in her life through a variety of means, from a white rose to the counsel of her sister and brother-in-law - and a variety of others who crossed Julie's path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a story that affirms that God cares about the details of our lives. It's not that God is interested in micromanaging our lives, but when we lean on him, he will guide us. What's more, his timing is always perfect. As I read the book, these verses from Proverbs kept coming to mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Proverbs 3:5-6 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;(&lt;i&gt;NIV&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julie and Steve both trusted God and let him lead them to one another. It wasn't always easy, and there were obstructions along the way. Steve, in particular, had a preconceived image of the woman he would marry, and Julie did not fit that image.  I wanted to shake Steve when he told Julie that he wasn't attracted  to her. What was he thinking? Seriously, can you imagine a man saying that to this woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TL-mG-FHFTI/AAAAAAAAAqo/jY1fPT2CXLw/s1600/julie_ferwerda_150px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TL-mG-FHFTI/AAAAAAAAAqo/jY1fPT2CXLw/s200/julie_ferwerda_150px.jpg" width="170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.julieferwerda.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;www.julieferwerda.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You have to wonder just what the woman Steve was envisioning looked like. The man struggled with the picture in his head for months while Julie struggled with the promise that she felt certain that she had heard from God. Still, she didn't doubt the promise from God, although she sometimes doubted Steve's own ability to see that God was bringing them together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair, it wasn't all about Julie's looks. Julie had been married before and had two daughters. Steve had never been married, and he had to reach a point where he could accept that he was walking into a family that had already been established. It makes sense to me that he would need a little more time than Julie did, but I could also understand her frustration over the roller-coaster of emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julie and Steve had what many would see as an old-fashioned courtship and were committed to keeping their relationship sexually pure. I appreciate how Julie handles it in the book. While it was not the biggest part of their story, Julie clearly explains why keeping their relationship pure was important to them. I think she makes a strong argument for abstaining from sex outside of marriage - one I not only agree with, but hope that more Christian singles of all ages will embrace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Perfect Fit&lt;/i&gt; is an encouraging book on many levels. It paints a vivid picture of how God speaks to us and guides our paths. It could be a path to romance, or to a job, or to a mission field, but if we trust him and lean not on our own understanding, God will stop at nothing to make our path straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;The steps of the godly are directed by the Lord. He delights in every detail of their lives. ~ &lt;/i&gt;Psalm 37:23 &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(&lt;i&gt;NLT&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I did not receive any compensation in exchange for this review, other than a free copy of the book. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4011044389018181920?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4011044389018181920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/book-review-perfect-fit.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4011044389018181920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4011044389018181920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/book-review-perfect-fit.html' title='Book Review: A Perfect Fit'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TL-si8vpNDI/AAAAAAAAAqs/FwMJSW3gXp8/s72-c/pefect-fit-cover-145px.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3018527460713078902</id><published>2010-10-15T09:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T09:54:06.999-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>Bearing One Another's Burdens</title><content type='html'>The other day someone made a comment to me about prayer requests that got me thinking. It was something like "It's nice to know people's prayer needs, but gee, sometimes they make you feel so heavy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied, "I guess that's why it's called 'bearing each other's burdens.'"&amp;nbsp; I have heard the verse from Galatians 6 for as long as I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always thought of the verse as figurative, and not literal. The conversation actually took place in the ladies' room, and as I stood in front of the mirror, watching the water run over my hands, I wondered if that weight that we feel when we pray is a &lt;i&gt;literal &lt;/i&gt;weight that has been lifted from those for whom we are praying. Is it &lt;i&gt;really &lt;/i&gt;possible to help ease the &lt;i&gt;deepest &lt;/i&gt;kind of pain through our prayers? Even the kind of pain that people &lt;i&gt;must &lt;/i&gt;walk through in order to find healing on the other side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it is. Today I will attend a memorial service for a high school senior who took his life earlier this week. I cannot begin to comprehend the pain his family is enduring, a pain that will never entirely go away. His school has suffered a series of tragedies over the last few years, and his classmates are deeply hurting over this loss, too. There are countless others who are grieving over his loss. We'll never know how many lives this young man touched in his short life, or the positive impact those people will have on others they meet, just because they knew him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know his parents. If this could happen to them, it could happen to any family. They are two of the sunniest, most positive people I have ever known. They love the Lord. They are devoted to their children. They're on top of things with their kids, but they couldn't know what was going on in their son's head. They could not know the hurts that he was hiding inside. And yet, for the rest of their lives, there will be moments when they question those truths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their prayer is that God will be glorified through their loss, and that what satan intended for evil, God will use for good. I'm asking you to join me today in helping to lift the burden they are carrying through your prayers. I'm asking you to pray that God will, indeed, be glorified. Whether you are reading this post the day of his memorial service or long after it's over, I'm asking you to say a prayer for this family, for the young man's friends and classmates, asking God to heal their wounds, remove all doubt, and that they will feel God's healing arms wrapped around them, holding them close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know our prayers won't make the pain disappear instantly. Just as God designed our bodies to heal from physical injury, God designed our spirits to heal from emotional pain. Grief is a necessary part of that and it takes time. But I believe that our prayers can help ease the grief of others, and that those prayers can bring a peace that surpasses understanding to those for whom we are praying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you pray with me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;To the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen&lt;/i&gt;. ~ Jude, verse 25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Comments are closed for this post.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3018527460713078902?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3018527460713078902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3018527460713078902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/bearing-one-anothers-burdens.html' title='Bearing One Another&apos;s Burdens'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4860327671636142704</id><published>2010-10-14T22:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T22:17:04.402-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='changing seasons'/><title type='text'>The Four Seasons</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I've noticed a trend this week, as bloggers have begun to write about the change of seasons, both literally and figuratively. I am fortunate to live in a climate that truly has four seasons. I can honestly say that I don't have a favorite - there are things that I love about each one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years, my sister lived just a couple hundred miles to the south, but that was far enough to miss fall. Where she lived, the autumn months did not bring significantly cooler temperatures, so&amp;nbsp; the leaves just turned brown and fell off the trees. Where I live, the trees reward us by turning brilliant shades of yellow, scarlet, and fiery orange, as though they are summer's final curtain call. The humidity that plagues us from spring throughout the summer months disappears almost overnight, replaced by cooler days and wonderfully cool nights when the temperature generally dips into the forties or fifties. You can hear the leaves crunching under your feet, and enjoy the luxury of wearing a sweater, after months of often sweltering heat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TLe_Yv501lI/AAAAAAAAAqk/IBioypGvN3U/s1600/fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TLe_Yv501lI/AAAAAAAAAqk/IBioypGvN3U/s1600/fall.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we know it, winter will be here, bringing the holidays and treasured time with family. There will be bright, sunny days and the evenings will bring the aroma of smoke from hearth-warming fires. With any luck, we'll have a couple of "snow days," those wonderful surprise days when we get to sleep late in the middle of the week and spend the whole day in pajamas, if that's what we want to do. I sleep best in the winter, the only time of the year that I can endure the weight of the covers over me. It's also when my cats most like to snuggle up against me at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By March, we're basking in some warm days mixed in with the cold, breaking out those transitional clothes that announce the change of seasons. Rain is a welcome change from winter's frozen precipitation. The redbud and Bradford pear trees are as beautiful as the oak and maple trees of fall. Neighborhoods are dotted with color as irises, tulips, and wisteria make their annual appearance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TLe_KHHiS0I/AAAAAAAAAqg/OYDfBHU_sPc/s1600/redbud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TLe_KHHiS0I/AAAAAAAAAqg/OYDfBHU_sPc/s200/redbud.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the days grow longer, summer brings outdoor concerts, evening walks in the park or along the river, and the opportunity to gaze at the stars. Early summer continues the thunderstorms of spring, bringing the rain that we know will be far less common by August. As it gets warmer, the emerald green trees against the blue sky are not only a delight to look at, but they also provide delightful shade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of the seasons is perfect. Fall and spring bring ragweed and pollen, winter often brings treacherous weather &lt;i&gt;that is not necessarily accompanied by a snow day&lt;/i&gt;, spring brings a greater likelihood of tornadoes, and summer can bring horrendous heat. By the time each season ends, I'm ready for the next one. I'm always grateful, though, for the season that has passed, and the blessings that it brought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;~ Ecclesiastes 3:1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4860327671636142704?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4860327671636142704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/four-seasons.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4860327671636142704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4860327671636142704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/four-seasons.html' title='The Four Seasons'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TLe_Yv501lI/AAAAAAAAAqk/IBioypGvN3U/s72-c/fall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2348971682338075740</id><published>2010-10-09T00:00:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T00:00:04.592-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worrying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='helpful hint'/><title type='text'>Warning Light</title><content type='html'>This is not a deeply spiritual post, but it &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; about trusting God with the seemingly small stuff. It's also a practical tip that might come in handy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody likes to have car trouble, but when you're single, it's a huge hassle to have to take your car in for repairs. You have to figure out when it's going to be convenient to be without your car...&lt;i&gt;as if there's ever a good time&lt;/i&gt;. You have to find someone to take you to drop the car off, and then to pick it up. If it's a repair that requires more than a day, then you have to find a way to get to work and home again....and then back to work again the next day And then there's the issue of the expense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's not much that causes my heart to sink faster than this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TK_EWm2LNhI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/LI6xrTBBZ8M/s1600/checkengine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="178" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TK_EWm2LNhI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/LI6xrTBBZ8M/s200/checkengine.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 6 months ago, the light came on as I was approaching my house, after a long day at work. It was a week that I did not have any spare time, and that I absolutely could not be without my car. It was only Monday night, and I knew that I had to be at work early and stay late the following three days. I prayed, "Please, let me get to Friday before I have to deal with this." My mind bounced back and forth from visions of dollar signs to images of my car breaking down late at night. I was convinced that I was in for a major repair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I Googled "check engine light" and discovered it could be nothing, or it could be something&amp;nbsp; significant. I prayed my light would be on the "nothing" end of the spectrum. I was reassured that the 40 miles or so that I would drive over those three days until Friday would &lt;i&gt;probably &lt;/i&gt;be okay, and that my image of the car breaking down would likely remain only in my head. Through my Google search, I also discovered that AutoZone could check my car's computer and tell me what was wrong. I found that reassuring, because at least I could get a pre-opinion, of sorts, before visiting a mechanic. And I continued to pray my car would make it until Friday morning without leaving me stranded somewhere.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did I make it until Friday morning without a catastrophe, but it was indeed, an easy fix. I use gasoline with ethanol - partly because it's less expensive, and partly because it's easier to find where I live. It turned out that was the problem&amp;nbsp; The AutoZone guy determined that I just needed to run an engine cleaner through my gas tank. It took a couple of tanks with the additive to make the light go way, but it did the trick. The best part was that it was only around $10 for two bottles of the additive. It also improved my gas mileage, which I had noticed had dropped over the previous couple of months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I noticed that my mileage was beginning to drop ever so slightly, and I kept thinking that it was probably time to get more of the additive. Somehow I never found the time to make it back over to AutoZone. This week, the darn light came on one day on&amp;nbsp; my way to work. Naturally, it was a day that I had to work until around 9:30 p.m. Again, my heart sank, but having such a simple fix last time, I wasn't as stressed about it. I still prayed about it, and the light still annoyed the heck out of me, but I thought it might be God's way of forcing me to quit thinking about going to AutoZone for the additive and to actually do it. This time, I worried about the light a lot less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a couple of days before I could make it back to AutoZone, but this time, the fix was even easier. The guy told me to take the gas cap off and then put it back on again. Evidently there was air in the tank, and that was what caused the light to go off. He reset the light, and as long as I was there, I picked up a couple more bottles of the additive and put one in my gas tank before I left the parking lot. Now that I have been forced to go to AutoZone, I feel better knowing that I should make it through the winter without my ethanol-laced gasoline causing the light to go off. And the additive was on sale - this time I got two bottles for only $5!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As one of my coworkers says, "I love it when it works!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?&lt;/i&gt; ~ Matthew 6:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2348971682338075740?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2348971682338075740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/warning-light.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2348971682338075740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2348971682338075740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/warning-light.html' title='Warning Light'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TK_EWm2LNhI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/LI6xrTBBZ8M/s72-c/checkengine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8490882931685192171</id><published>2010-10-04T00:30:00.024-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T00:40:09.193-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='historic events'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sandra Day O&apos;Connor'/><title type='text'>First Monday in October</title><content type='html'>I love to watch history in the making. Today is one of those days as the Supreme Court begins a new session, and for the first time ever, one-third of the Court will be made up of women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had mixed feelings when President Reagan appointed the first woman to the Court, Sandra Day O'Connor. It was exciting, yet I had an uneasy feeling that she was selected first and foremost because of her gender. I thought that was as wrong as ruling a woman out (no pun intended) based solely on sex. Thirty years later, we still haven't reached a point where I think we can fairly say that gender doesn't enter into the nominating process, but as more women join the Court, we're getting closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKlfwaQMiCI/AAAAAAAAAqM/kIXym3KxODg/s1600/Justice+O%27Connor.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="163" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKlfwaQMiCI/AAAAAAAAAqM/kIXym3KxODg/s200/Justice+O%27Connor.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of President Reagan's motivations for selecting Sandra Day O'Connor, she became my favorite Justice. I loved that she was unpredictable, sometimes voting with the conservative wing of the Court; and other times with the liberal wing. I respected her for that, because it seems to me that the law should not be ideological.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that Justice Kennedy isn't predictable either, but somehow it made more of an impression on me when Justice O'Connor "crossed sides" on an issue. It would be nice to see someone else pick up her mantle and join Justice Kennedy in the middle of the Court. Here's hoping...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"In the last days," God says, "I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; ~ Acts 2:17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8490882931685192171?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8490882931685192171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/first-monday-in-october.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8490882931685192171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8490882931685192171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/10/first-monday-in-october.html' title='First Monday in October'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKlfwaQMiCI/AAAAAAAAAqM/kIXym3KxODg/s72-c/Justice+O%27Connor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3547587511922416132</id><published>2010-09-28T00:00:00.017-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T08:58:30.037-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='contentment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quest for perfection'/><title type='text'>A Futile Quest for Perfection</title><content type='html'>In Natchez, Mississippi, you will find a house that is frozen in time. It's official name is &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mississippibeautiful.com/capital-river/longwood-plantation.html"&gt;Longwood&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, but it is also known as Nutt's Folly. The owner was Dr. Haller Nutt, a man who was not blessed with good timing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKFDKQDXSoI/AAAAAAAAAqE/Z6sK2yfQ6pU/s1600/Longwood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKFDKQDXSoI/AAAAAAAAAqE/Z6sK2yfQ6pU/s1600/Longwood.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Source: Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At six stories and 30,000 square feet, it is the largest octagonal house in the United States. Work began on the house in 1860, but in 1861, when word came that the Civil War had begun, workers stopped what they were doing and walked out, dropping their saws and hammers on the floor and leaving paint brushes in open cans. Only the exterior of the house had been completed. Thirty-two rooms were planned, but Dr. Nutt was only able to finish nine rooms on the first floor, apparently mostly with slave labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1862, Dr. Nutt and his wife, Julia moved into the finished first floor, along with their eight children. Dr. Nutt died before the war ended and Julia continued to live in the house until her death in 1897. Many of the family's furnishings remain there for tourists to see. I remember seeing the house as a child, during &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.natchezpilgrimage.com/"&gt;Natchez's Spring Pilgrimage&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. As we went up to the second floor we saw the workers' tools strewn about, clearly showing the passage of time. I wondered what it would be like to live on the first floor, with those eerie unfinished floors above, serving as reminders of what would never be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a house in my city that is at the opposite end of the spectrum. Oh, it's a another grand house, and it was built to fulfill someone's dream, but while it was completed long ago, only the caretaker's apartment has ever been inhabited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to work for the original designer 20 years ago, while the house was still under construction. It was already on its second kitchen, as the Lady of the House was not happy with the results of the first. As far as I could tell, there wasn't much that made her happy. I had no firsthand encounters with her, but there were plenty of opportunities to observe her from a distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not unusual for her to reject upholstered pieces, despite the quality that went into them. She inspected the work of artisans who spent countless hours laboring over faux finishes - painstakingly created with 24 karat gold leaf - and often insisted that the work be redone. It was her dime, after all, so it was rare that anyone tried to persuade her that the work was indeed, beautifully executed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a couple of years, when the house was nearly finished, the designer and his wife divorced. The Lady of the House hired the ex-wife to take care of the final details. We later heard that she had hired another local designer to replace window treatments that had long since been installed. And, as the years went by, it was rumored that she was reupholstering furniture that had never been used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And still, the couple did not move into the house. No matter what she did, the house was never quite right. It was never perfect. And it's my understanding that when she wasn't dwelling on her perception of imperfections within the house, it was her health. She wanted to move in when she was feeling her best, but she suffered from a chronic illness. Even though she would have hired people to make all of the arrangements, she wasn't willing to make the move when she didn't &lt;i&gt;feel&lt;/i&gt; perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lady of the House died a few years ago, a good 16 or 17 years after she could have moved into her dream house. It still sits empty, now the victim of a difficult real estate market. I often wonder if anyone will ever make their home there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both houses stand as monuments to what was not to be. Each story is sad in its own way, but I find inspiration in Julia's ability to make the most of her circumstances. Perhaps she understood that the quest for perfection is futile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have   plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every   situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in   want.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;I can do everything through him who gives me strength.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Philippians 4:12-13&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3547587511922416132?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3547587511922416132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/futile-quest-for-perfection.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3547587511922416132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3547587511922416132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/futile-quest-for-perfection.html' title='A Futile Quest for Perfection'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TKFDKQDXSoI/AAAAAAAAAqE/Z6sK2yfQ6pU/s72-c/Longwood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-6353388480096022764</id><published>2010-09-25T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T00:27:27.649-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writer&apos;s Workshop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my job'/><title type='text'>I Love My Job!</title><content type='html'>I have had my nose to the grindstone more than usual this week. I've told you before that I work at a private high school. September is normally a hectic month, and this year we decided to add something else to a month that is &lt;i&gt;already &lt;/i&gt;full...we're changing our website to a new host company. Friday was the deadline to get it done. Did I mention that the group of us who were transferring all the information from the old site to the new have limited expertise in these matters? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also had two evening events this week - along with the extra work that each brought. As a result, everything that needed to be done on the website had to be squeezed in at all hours. I had two pages left to set up Friday night, and in the midst of a reception - the final evening event for the week - I spied a computer and logged on and finished those pages. There are still finishing touches to be done, pictures to add, and undoubtedly links to fix, but the basic information&amp;nbsp;is there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all the stress, it has been a fun week. My coworkers and I have laughed together as we have dealt with HTML quandaries.&amp;nbsp;We have pitched in to help each other meet deadlines. Tuesday night,&amp;nbsp;I crawled under desks to swipe phones for an evening phonathon. The parents who helped with that phonathon were a blast. There were cookies in the faculty lounge two mornings this week, always a bonus. Our daily faculty/staff trivia game started this week. Hallways were filled with smiling students. When I went to the cafeteria for lunch one afternoon, I coud hear the drum corps practicing. And when I left the reception Friday&amp;nbsp;night after a 13-hour day, I could hear the crowd cheering in the football stadium as I felt the cool evening breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't get those things in every job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what was the purpose of Friday night's reception? It was to honor two graduates and a former coach for their achievements, not just while they were at our school, but throughout their lives. As I listened to the speeches that preceded the reception, I was reminded again why we do what we do...it's all about preparing kids for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh yeah. This post fulfills prompt #5 from &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/writers-workshop-directions/"&gt;Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;i&gt;10 Reasons why you love your job&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJ2EoVCcWAI/AAAAAAAAAqA/cRcQbk5m5f0/s1600/writersworkshopoodle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJ2EoVCcWAI/AAAAAAAAAqA/cRcQbk5m5f0/s1600/writersworkshopoodle.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men..."&lt;/i&gt;   Colossians 3:23&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-6353388480096022764?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/6353388480096022764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-love-my-job.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6353388480096022764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6353388480096022764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-love-my-job.html' title='I Love My Job!'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJ2EoVCcWAI/AAAAAAAAAqA/cRcQbk5m5f0/s72-c/writersworkshopoodle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8137659027586980387</id><published>2010-09-21T00:00:00.044-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T00:00:05.647-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight'/><title type='text'>Good News About Those Few Extra Pounds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I can't cite the source, but when I was a teenager, my mother said she had read a quote from Ingrid Bergman where she said that there comes a time in every woman's life where she has to chose between her face and her body. I remember what brought it up. We had just seen &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071877/"&gt;Murder on the Orient Express&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; and Mom was commenting on how great Bergman looked at nearly 60. Ingrid had chosen her face over her body, and didn't mind carrying a few extra pounds as she got older. Sure, she was a little heavier than she had been at the peak of her career, but she was still beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="197" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJgQijh_QuI/AAAAAAAAApw/O2Btgp1IOtE/s320/ingrid+74.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Google Images&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJgQijh_QuI/AAAAAAAAApw/O2Btgp1IOtE/s1600/ingrid+74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I have always thought that made sense, but I nearly did cartwheels when &lt;u&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Wall Street Journal&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt; presented evidence in support of Ingrid's theory last spring, in &lt;a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704464704575208082569868428.html"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Why Carrying an Extra 10 Pounds Might Not Hurt&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; The&amp;nbsp; article was based on a study published in February in the Journal of the &lt;a href="http://www.americangeriatrics.org/"&gt;American Geriatrics Society&lt;/a&gt;. The study included about 9,000 men and women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The article explains that a little extra weight does more than fill in the lines: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A little extra fat may also act as a natural face-lift. Last year, the  Archives of Dermatology published a study that said, as women grow  older, those who are overweight appeared younger than those who were  normal or underweight. That is because a little fat provides more  structure for the skin which can combat the sagging that comes with age.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's more, it can help with osteoporosis, which I've long suspected. It just seemed to me that carrying a few extra pounds would be the equivalent of walking with weights. Apparently doctors are coming around to my way of thinking, that one way to strengthen your skeleton is to avoid &lt;i&gt;looking &lt;/i&gt;like a skeleton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;i&gt;not &lt;/i&gt;a free pass to let ourselves go. Too much belly fat is still bad. A healthy diet and exercise will always be important, but we don't have to take it to the level of an obsession. We don't have to stress over 5 or 10 extra pounds. &lt;i&gt;Hallelujah!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click &lt;span id="goog_981807092"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/"&gt;here&lt;span id="goog_981807093"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to read the full article.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. ~ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Psalm 139:14 (NIV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8137659027586980387?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8137659027586980387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/good-news-about-those-few-extra-pounds.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8137659027586980387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8137659027586980387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/good-news-about-those-few-extra-pounds.html' title='Good News About Those Few Extra Pounds'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJgQijh_QuI/AAAAAAAAApw/O2Btgp1IOtE/s72-c/ingrid+74.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1285507672501925733</id><published>2010-09-17T23:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T02:23:03.333-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='miracles'/><title type='text'>Back to Life</title><content type='html'>Here's a happy story for the weekend. It's not often that we see evidence of real-life miracles while we're eating our Cheerios, but such a miracle was featured on the &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://today.msnbc.msn.com/"&gt;Today&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/i&gt;show Friday morning.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parents of a 2-year-old boy named Gore shared the story of their son, who shows no signs of brain damage after his heart stopped for about an hour as the result of a near-drowning earlier this summer. When he was found in an irrigation ditch, his heart had stopped. His grandfather, a retired orthopaedic surgeon and the first to try to resuscitate Gore, said he had the color of someone who had died - which he had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once his heart started beating again, his temperature was kept low for a couple of days before slowing bringing it back to normal. Even then, there wasn't much hope that he would be unaffected by the experience until after an MRI showed normal brain activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's an amazing story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=10,0,0,0" height="245" id="msnbc567dce" width="420"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640" /&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="launch=39229696&amp;amp;width=420&amp;amp;height=245"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="opaque" /&gt;&lt;embed name="msnbc567dce" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640" width="420" height="245" FlashVars="launch=39229696&amp;amp;width=420&amp;amp;height=245" allowscriptaccess="always" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="opaque" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/shockwave/download/download.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; color: #999999; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; margin-top: 5px; text-align: center; width: 420px;"&gt;Visit msnbc.com for &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted rgb(153, 153, 153) ! important; color: rgb(87, 153, 219) ! important; font-weight: normal ! important; height: 13px; text-decoration: none ! important;"&gt;breaking news&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032507" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted rgb(153, 153, 153) ! important; color: rgb(87, 153, 219) ! important; font-weight: normal ! important; height: 13px; text-decoration: none ! important;"&gt;world news&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032072" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted rgb(153, 153, 153) ! important; color: rgb(87, 153, 219) ! important; font-weight: normal ! important; height: 13px; text-decoration: none ! important;"&gt;news about the economy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Now the crowd that was with him when he called Lazarus from the tomb and raised him from the dead&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; &lt;i&gt;continued to spread the word&lt;/i&gt;. ~ John 12:17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1285507672501925733?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1285507672501925733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-life.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1285507672501925733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1285507672501925733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-life.html' title='Back to Life'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-6165019789004998558</id><published>2010-09-16T00:00:00.025-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T15:22:06.523-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writer&apos;s Workshop'/><title type='text'>The Art of Conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJGWER8BhXI/AAAAAAAAApo/T5_LQg5K1YI/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJGWER8BhXI/AAAAAAAAApo/T5_LQg5K1YI/s200/writersworkshop.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It's already Thursday, which means it's time for another writing assignment from &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/09/writing-prompts-49/"&gt;Mama Kat&lt;/a&gt;. This time I chose prompt #5, "&lt;i&gt;Describe an awkward conversation you had with someone recently&lt;/i&gt;." The timing was perfect, as I had an awkward conversation just this past weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First a little background. I live in the same town where I have spent most of my life. We moved here when I was 2, and except for a 2-1/2 year period from the fourth grade until the sixth, I have lived here ever since. It was when we moved back in the middle of my sixth grade year that I learned "&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/You-Cant-Go-Home-Again/dp/0060930055?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=single0c-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;you can't go home again&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=single0c-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0060930055" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=single0c-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0060930055" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lived in Jackson, Mississippi during those 2-1/2 years, and while Jackson was alright, I spent the entire time dreaming of moving back here. In the beginning, I hated being the "new" kid with the "Yankee" accent. (Believe me, it only sounded like a Yankee accent to kids from the &lt;i&gt;deep &lt;/i&gt;South.) While I got used to living in Mississippi and made plenty of friends, it never felt like home. I wanted to be back with the kids I'd "grown up" with, the kids who really knew me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I didn't understand then is that there is a huge difference between kids in the third grade and kids in the sixth. They change physically, for one thing. They're pre-teens. They're bigger, they don't look like little kids anymore, and even the blondest kids usually have darker hair. Aside from the physical changes, 2-1/2 years is almost a fourth of an 11-year-old's life. It's truly a stretch for them to remember that far back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it was a shock to me to come back and discover that kids I had known since I was 2 had no memory of me. I couldn't blame them, because I was having a hard time recognizing them, too. It wasn't long before I gave up on the old friends and started to make new ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the kids forgot me, their moms didn't. When they make the connection between the middle-aged woman they see in front of them and the child they once knew, the first comment is invariably, "Didn't you used to be blonde?" I usually answer something like, "Yes, but now I get to pick any hair color I want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I ran into one of those moms, who was with her daughter. She introduced us and then turned to her daughter and asked, "Don't you remember Margaret?" I could have told her that her daughter didn't remember me 6 months after I left town, but I refrained. The poor daughter looked totally baffled. Good grief, it has been 42 years since we moved to Mississippi, but the mom persisted, asking the standard question, "Margaret, didn't you used to be blonde?" That didn't help either. The daughter turned to me and asked me my maiden name. "The same as it is now," I responded, taking the awkwardness to new heights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned to her mother and said, "&lt;i&gt;I just don't know.&lt;/i&gt;" Meanwhile, I was remembering the dinner I made the mistake of eating with her family and how her father wouldn't let me leave the table until I had eaten every. single. bite. I came from a family that allowed children to stop eating when we were full and I was absolutely stunned that this man would think my eating habits were any of his business. &lt;i&gt;Just thinking about it has my stomach begging for an antacid.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, the mother wouldn't give up. "Are you &lt;i&gt;sure &lt;/i&gt;you don't remember her?" At this point, I was starting to wonder if someone had thrown a cloak of invisibility over me. Did they realize I was still standing there...and that I could &lt;i&gt;hear &lt;/i&gt;them? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling sorry for the daughter because it wasn't her idea to be placed in such a difficult position. But then she leaned towards her mother and said, "I don't know. I'm not even sure we're the same age."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Excuse me?&lt;/i&gt; I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or insulted, but I &lt;i&gt;was &lt;/i&gt;sure that I was done with the awkwardness of the entire conversation. "Yeah, we're the same age, and I remember &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;. It was nice seeing you again." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still feel bad for the daughter, even if there's a possibility that she thought that I was older than she is. (Surely she thought that &lt;i&gt;she &lt;/i&gt;was the older one though, don't you think?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I won't be eating another meal with her family. Oh dear, where &lt;i&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;that darn antacid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;I thank my God every time I remember you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; ~ Philippians 1:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-6165019789004998558?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/6165019789004998558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/art-of-conversation.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6165019789004998558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6165019789004998558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/art-of-conversation.html' title='The Art of Conversation'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TJGWER8BhXI/AAAAAAAAApo/T5_LQg5K1YI/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7078374781674052251</id><published>2010-09-13T00:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T00:00:06.088-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='make disciples'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Great Commission'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love our neighbors'/><title type='text'>Are We Intolerant?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Matt, at &lt;a href="http://www.thechurchofnopeople.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Church of No People&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*, asked a simple question on Friday, "Do Americans have a lot more work to do when it comes to being tolerant?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Okay, maybe it wasn't all that simple. Regardless of how much more tolerant we are - &lt;i&gt;generally speaking &lt;/i&gt;- than a number of other nations that come to mind, I can see where we might come across as intolerant. One guy even came up with a visual way to make fun of our appearance of intolerance:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TI2a83__T9I/AAAAAAAAApY/0EIlh-1O2Mo/s1600/sign.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TI2a83__T9I/AAAAAAAAApY/0EIlh-1O2Mo/s320/sign.JPG" width="219" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Photo Source: A wide variety of Internet sites&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;For the record, I don't know that God cares much about most signs, but I &lt;i&gt;do &lt;/i&gt;think he hates "hate" signs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Today's post is my answer to Matt's question about whether or not I think we're intolerant, with a just couple of minor changes in an effort to tweak it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;As for your question, I’m not going to give an answer to Americans in general, but to those of us who are followers of Christ.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Intolerance is a perception, and I think perception, to borrow a  phrase, is in the eye of the beholder, not the accused. To be fair, the  accusation of intolerance will make anyone of any faith or political  persuasion defensive. That’s a natural human reaction. But with the  power of the Holy Spirit working within Christ’s followers, we should be  able to rise above that human need to defend ourselves. We should be  able to remember that there is a higher purpose to our lives than  arguing with people who call us intolerant.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The Great Commission included teaching the world to obey everything Jesus commanded. But before teaching, we were to go into the world to make disciples and to baptize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;We often get the cart before the horse, trying to teach people before  making disciples and then we scream and yell because they don't want to be taught. And in this process we forget that teaching the world to obey what  Jesus commanded starts with what Jesus said were the two greatest  commandments, to &lt;u&gt;love the Lord our God&lt;/u&gt; and to &lt;u&gt;love our neighbors&lt;/u&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Our  neighbors don’t feel the love when we’re coming across as angry, so they  call us intolerant, and then we get into the cycle of the human nature  defending ourselves against a charge that we find offensive.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; Once we get into that cycle, we forget that Jesus didn't tell us to go into the world to make everyone just like us. He told us to go into  the world to make disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father,  and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. He told us to lead people to  Him. He even gave us the formula: “Love the Lord your God with all your  heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your  strength,” and “love your neighbor as yourself.”&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;If we could just  remember those two commandments, we might be able to cut down  considerably on the accusations of intolerance, and much more  importantly, people would be much more likely to see Jesus in us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Then Jesus came to them and said, &lt;b style="color: black;"&gt;All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; ~ Matthew 28:18-20&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIvlvINLDhI/AAAAAAAAAoA/o0hybaUHcKw/s1600/30+Bloggers+30+Days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="144" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIvlvINLDhI/AAAAAAAAAoA/o0hybaUHcKw/s200/30+Bloggers+30+Days.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;*Through &lt;a href="http://www.thechurchofnopeople.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Church of No People&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, Matt is participating in &lt;a href="http://www.mycharitywater.org/p/campaign?campaign_id=5930"&gt;30 Bloggers, 30 Days&lt;/a&gt; to raise money to provide clean water for developing nations. To learn more or to contribute, click on the 30 Bloggers link above. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7078374781674052251?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7078374781674052251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/are-we-intolerant.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7078374781674052251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7078374781674052251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/are-we-intolerant.html' title='Are We Intolerant?'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TI2a83__T9I/AAAAAAAAApY/0EIlh-1O2Mo/s72-c/sign.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4599753259059166620</id><published>2010-09-09T00:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T22:45:09.986-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='married vs. single'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childlessness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom friends'/><title type='text'>Mom Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIb9PN-iuOI/AAAAAAAAAm0/4eLG4t2oomg/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIb9PN-iuOI/AAAAAAAAAm0/4eLG4t2oomg/s200/writersworkshop.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Holy cow. It's already time for &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/writers-workshop-directions/"&gt;another writing assignment from Mama Kat&lt;/a&gt;! Perhaps it was the long holiday weekend, but&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt; the week has &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;flown by. Or maybe it's just that Mama Kat gives out too much homework because I swear I just turned one of these in and it cannot &lt;/i&gt;possibly&lt;i&gt; have been a week.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;This time I chose prompt #2: "A list of things you no longer have in common with your married/child bearing friends…and why you love them anyways."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I hate to complain, but I just can't use the word &lt;i&gt;anyways &lt;/i&gt;in a sentence. I want to make it clear that I don't blame Mama Kat. Who &lt;i&gt;was &lt;/i&gt;the first person to decide a perfectly good word like &lt;i&gt;anyway &lt;/i&gt;needed an 's' tacked onto the end? I'm sure it's a regional thing. I can say&lt;i&gt; "y'all&lt;/i&gt;" 'til the cows come home, but &lt;i&gt;anyways&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;isn't a word that has ever come out of my mouth and its very presence made it difficult for me to choose this prompt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forced myself to overlook my issues with that word so I could tell you that the older you get, the fewer differences you find with your married "mom" friends. I'm not going to call them &lt;i&gt;childbearing&lt;/i&gt;, because this side of 50 they'd be freaks of nature if they were still spittin' out babies on a regular basis. (I know that sounds like an anatomically impossible thing to do, but now that I've already used "y'all" in this post, "spittin'" seemed like the only appropriate word.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, while a few still have one or two kids at home, most of my mom friends have kids who are at least college-aged. They have discovered that they can do things they could never do before, like meet  for dinner without having to schedule it months in advance, only to  cancel and reschedule two or three times. And when you get together, the  conversation is totally different. When their kids were younger, they  would tell hysterical stories about the kids that were always fun to  hear, but there wasn't much else to talk about. Now, while I still love to hear what their kids are up to, they've  learned that they can talk about a wide range of other topics, too.  Because they have time to think outside of the bathroom for the first  time in decades, most of them start to rediscover themselves which is a  joy to watch. And they're not tired all the time, so they don't start  looking at you with a glazed expression 5 minutes after they sit down to  dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, most of the differences that were still so apparent just 5 years ago have faded away. There is, however, one major difference that has only become evident over the last couple of years. We're part of that &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/23/education/23college.html?_r=2&amp;amp;src=me&amp;amp;ref=general"&gt;Heli/Velcro parent generation&lt;/a&gt;. You've heard about them, I'm sure. These are the parents who have a hard time letting go and do thing like &lt;strike&gt;stalking&lt;/strike&gt; visiting their kids at college practically every other weekend. While most of that doesn't affect our relationship, there is the issue of the cell phone that still divides us. They're so afraid of missing a call or text from their kids that you would swear their cell phones are surgically attached to their wrists. That would be fine, except that if they need to contact me, they assume &lt;i&gt;my &lt;/i&gt;cell phone is attached to me, as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record, &lt;i&gt;it's not&lt;/i&gt;. My cell phone lives in my purse, pretty much around the clock. Once in awhile, it comes out when I need it for a &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;phone call&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;. It's more likely to come out because it needs to be charged. Once it's on the charger, there's a fairly good chance it will make it back into my purse, but occasionally it spends the whole day on the charger, while I - &lt;i&gt;imagine &lt;/i&gt;this, if you can - &lt;i&gt;leave the house without a phone&lt;/i&gt;. As long as my phone holds out, I won't upgrade it because it will force me onto a more expensive plan and I'm already paying for &lt;i&gt;way &lt;/i&gt;more than I use. Honestly, the only reason I have a cell phone is for emergencies, and free long distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only do my mom friends not understand that I don't walk around with my phone in my hand 24/7, &lt;i&gt;they think I text&lt;/i&gt;. I don't know why they would think this, since most have never received a text from me at all, and those who have, have only received random texts with words completely spelled out and sentences correctly punctuated. Is that the behavior of a person who texts? No, I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they'll call me on my cell phone, and if they're lucky, I have it on me, it's fully charged, &lt;i&gt;and &lt;/i&gt;I can get to it. Then I'm greeted with, "Did you get my text?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Huh? Text? &lt;i&gt;What&lt;/i&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you get the text I sent last night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean when I was home and you could have picked up the phone and called me if you had something to say to me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it was just easier to send a text."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, people, is it really easier if I'm not going to see it until you call me 12 hours later to tell me you sent it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, take a deep breath. This, too, shall pass, and when it does, all the differences will be gone. That or I'm going to have to break down and drink the texting Koolaid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. I &lt;i&gt;do &lt;/i&gt;love my mom friends anyway&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;strike&gt;s&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and I always have. But now when we get together and communicate in person, we can laugh and talk about &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;kinds of things. And the only curfew left is the one we impose on ourselves because there's no homework to check or lunches to make. The older we get, the more we have we have in common...again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching." ~ Hebrews 10:25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4599753259059166620?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4599753259059166620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/mom-friends.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4599753259059166620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4599753259059166620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/mom-friends.html' title='Mom Friends'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIb9PN-iuOI/AAAAAAAAAm0/4eLG4t2oomg/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3100470384845549832</id><published>2010-09-06T14:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T03:14:23.999-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drive-in theatres'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bearing one another&apos;s burdens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><title type='text'>The News Spread Like Wildfire</title><content type='html'>My city experienced a tragic loss early Friday afternoon. A coworker received a breaking news text and within minutes it was all over Facebook. I left work to get my hair cut and, as I drove, it was all they were talking about on the radio. When I arrived at the salon, the stylists were stunned by the news. One was absolutely heartbroken&amp;nbsp; as she stared at the picture on her phone. The shock caused drivers to pull off the highway, and the 10:00 p.m. news reported that people were still stopping by to pay their respects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lost a local icon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The screens at the drive-in movie theatre caught on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIHjJvfb0hI/AAAAAAAAAmY/VTRqiWWIpog/s1600/drive-in+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIHjJvfb0hI/AAAAAAAAAmY/VTRqiWWIpog/s320/drive-in+fire.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Seriously&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that virtually everyone in this city of nearly 400,000 - more if you count the suburbs - has a memory of &lt;i&gt;that &lt;/i&gt;theatre. If you have ever seen&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0086066/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Outsiders&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, then &lt;i&gt;you &lt;/i&gt;have a memory of it, too. The movie included a few actors who were just starting out in the early 1980's: Patrick Swayze, Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, Tom Cruise, C. Thomas Howell, Ralph Macchio, and Emilio Estevez. Some of the scenes in the movie were shot at the drive-in. Locals got to play extras in the movie, and one lucky friend got the role of the cashier in the concession stand. (He worked for the national chain that owned the drive-in at the time. Most of the owners in the drive-in's history have been local.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIL41AEeA0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/4tQ-IlNRFAs/s1600/outsiders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIL41AEeA0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/4tQ-IlNRFAs/s320/outsiders.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive-in opened on the old Route 66 in 1951 as a single-screen, and its popularity soon led to the addition of a second screen, directly behind the first. Those screens were constructed of wood, and were 9 stories high, placing them among the largest screens in the country. Because the massive structure was wooden, it was uninsurable. With an estimated cost of $300,000 for modern screens (built out of metal instead of wood), the owners initially expressed some skepticism about rebuilding, but the community has rallied to the cause with individuals and businesses already helping with clean-up and donations. Within 48 hours of the fire, a Facebook page had earned nearly 20,000 "Likes" from people taking up the cause of this local landmark. T-shirts featuring the theatre are already on the market and at least one benefit concert is in the works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIL47MQlPYI/AAAAAAAAAmo/OzVzlQU8iWY/s1600/drive-in+daytime.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIL47MQlPYI/AAAAAAAAAmo/OzVzlQU8iWY/s320/drive-in+daytime.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Much of the emotion tied to the theatre has to do with the earliest memories so many of us have of going to the drive-in. The first time I remember going there as a kid, was with my aunt and uncle. My cousin and I were particularly excited about getting to go to the movies in our pajamas. It was the first time I had ever noticed a harvest moon, a huge golden sphere that rose in the sky just as the movie began, and I remember being torn between watching the movie screen through the front window of the car or the sight of that incredible moon through the back. (The moon won.) I have no idea what the movie was, but the &lt;i&gt;experience &lt;/i&gt;was the coolest. thing. &lt;i&gt;ever&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIHemviJiVI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/WNR1I7zYzcs/s1600/drive-in+movie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="333" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIHemviJiVI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/WNR1I7zYzcs/s400/drive-in+movie.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I went to that particular drive-in was about 30 years ago. I don't remember that movie either, but I &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; remember the experience. And that's really what differentiates drive-ins from indoor theatres, or from watching a movie at home. It's an experience like no other. Unfortunately, it's an experience that fewer and fewer people will get to enjoy, as more and more drive-ins fall by the wayside. But with the clear support of the community, the owners' original skepticism about rebuilding this particular drive-in has quickly been replaced with excitement and enthusiasm for the project. They're hoping that new screens could be in place by May, making many more summer seasons possible, and allowing new generations to create their own memories of going to the drive-in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;year, the fire caused the theatre to close just a little bit earlier than planned. The last show for this year was scheduled for next weekend. What movie would have closed the season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Outsiders&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ&lt;/i&gt;. ~ Galatians 6:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3100470384845549832?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3100470384845549832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/news-spread-like-wildfire.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3100470384845549832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3100470384845549832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/news-spread-like-wildfire.html' title='The News Spread Like Wildfire'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TIHjJvfb0hI/AAAAAAAAAmY/VTRqiWWIpog/s72-c/drive-in+fire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5065022092481835471</id><published>2010-09-02T01:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T20:12:38.226-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my secret celebrity crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alec Baldwin'/><title type='text'>Dear Alec</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH88spgASHI/AAAAAAAAAmA/SmSjFkcTaVY/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH88spgASHI/AAAAAAAAAmA/SmSjFkcTaVY/s200/writersworkshop.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's time for another &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/09/merry-go-round/?utm_source=feedburner&amp;amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;amp;utm_campaign=Feed%3A+MamasLosinIt+%28Mama%27s+Losin%27+It%29"&gt;assignment from Mama Kat&lt;/a&gt;. This time I chose the prompt, "write an open letter to a celebrity." My letter is to my secret celebrity crush. But, shhhhh, don't tell anybody who it is.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Alec,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize this is probably not your wildest fantasy, to have a Christian woman who is about your age and who lives in a red state tell you she has a secret celebrity crush on you. Would it help if I told you I'm a purple voter who lives in a red state? Really, it's more of a &lt;b style="color: #8e7cc3;"&gt;periwinkle&lt;/b&gt;. (That's the closest I could find to periwinkle in Blogger's limited color palette.) And I have never voted for the guy who refuses to even entertain the &lt;i&gt;possibility &lt;/i&gt;of climate change. Oh wait, there was that one time, but it was only once. Surely you can understand a person making a bad decision in a weak moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH8sRsfyLfI/AAAAAAAAAlw/ItBExz2fiy8/s1600/young+alec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH8sRsfyLfI/AAAAAAAAAlw/ItBExz2fiy8/s200/young+alec.jpg" width="163" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I wish I could tell you when I realized I had a crush on you. It wasn't when you were young. You were plenty attractive when you were young, but to tell you the truth, I thought you were kind of shallow. And cocky. &lt;i&gt;Really &lt;/i&gt;cocky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life has a way of taking that know-it-all attitude out of all of us. Life, and the mistakes we make. And of course, you made a whopper. Isn't it funny how Mel Gibson can make a mistake that's just as appalling and we say, "there but for the grace of God"?&amp;nbsp; (Believe me, we're super miffed, but it's awfully hard to let Mel have it after that Jesus movie.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You messed up - admittedly in a big way - and we jumped all over you. You may have noticed, we don't have much patience for non-Bible thumpers. We're okay with extending grace to our own kind, but gee, we have a hard time extending that same grace to people outside the club. Maybe that's why you look at us with such disdain. We deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt bad for you when I heard it. I can imagine the frustration you felt. The way you dealt with your frustration was unacceptable, but you &lt;i&gt;know &lt;/i&gt;that. After all, you're brighter than average. You wouldn't be my secret celebrity crush if you weren't smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was when my heart sank at the diatribe on the tape that I began to see you differently. You weren't cocky anymore. You were powerless and you knew it. As I heard the tape for the first time, I began to pray for healing in your relationship with your daughter. I began to pray for Ireland's healing from those stinging words that I'm sure you would have taken back if you could. I began to pray that one day, she would forgive you and you could begin to form a healthy father/daughter relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something I've learned over time. I find I am less judgmental when I ask God to let me see those I'm inclined to judge through his eyes. Sometimes it takes years, but little by little, God shows me the hurts they carry around, the things that have made them who they are. He does something else, too. He shows me their good qualities, the things that make other people love them. But there's a trick to it. I have to pray for the person in order to see what God wants me to see. If I continue to condemn them without praying for them, I never get to see any of the things that God loves about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH8t3FBVnjI/AAAAAAAAAl4/P2KQCe2Qia4/s1600/smiling+alec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH8t3FBVnjI/AAAAAAAAAl4/P2KQCe2Qia4/s320/smiling+alec.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So maybe it was because I prayed for you and Ireland, but I soon began to notice that you're pretty darn funny. Were you &lt;i&gt;always &lt;/i&gt;that funny? Maybe you were, but it was sure hard to see any sign of humor with all that anger that seemed to rear its ugly head at the slightest provocation. Oh yeah. The funny side of you is much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gosh, you're quick on your feet. Some actors are lost without a script, but not you. You're hysterical in interviews. That twinkle in your eyes always give the impression that you have a secret joke that you're dying to tell the rest of us, but you've decided to keep it to yourself for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to have been a bit of a jolt to you when Stephen took the evangelical turn. I gather you have kept religion at arm's length, so his conversion must seem a little extreme to you. But you have to understand why he's so enthused. It's hard not to be enthused when you realize that from the beginning of time, God had a plan for you. When Adam and Eve were in the Garden, God knew you'd be a hoot on Letterman. When Noah was looking for dry land, God was planning to send a Savior who would bear the sins of the world, even the sins of a man who would one day unload all his own hurts on his daughter's voice mail. That's an overwhelming thought, isn't it? God was thinking of you&lt;i&gt; long before&lt;/i&gt; there was a you. And he &lt;i&gt;loved &lt;/i&gt;you then, as he loves you now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You seem kind of fascinated by Stephen's faith, and yet I get the feeling it makes you a little uncomfortable. Do you fear what would happen if you followed the same path? Do you wonder if Alec would disappear entirely? Well, yeah, parts of you would fade away, but it would be the parts that hold you&amp;nbsp; back, the parts that keep you from being everything that God created you to be. Don't worry, the funny guy who is quick on his feet would still be around. And you would still be committed to many of the causes that are dear to you now. Some of your attitudes and priorities would change, but you would still be Alec, with more of the good and less of the bad. You wouldn't be Stephen on steroids, and you wouldn't turn into a Tea Partier. You could be a social justice Christian who drives you-know-who crazy. You would enjoy that immensely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've seen that Christ's followers often fail to be shining examples of who he is. Sometimes we forget that love is supposed to be our identifying trait and we replace that love with indignation. We call it &lt;i&gt;righteous &lt;/i&gt;indignation but usually it's more of a self-centered indignation. We're supposed to be lights shining in the darkness, but sometimes we block the light, and that keeps people from seeing Jesus in us. That's just us messing up. But his grace is sufficient, and he reminds us that other Christians are not our role models. Christ alone sets the bar for our behavior, and he sets it high, but he also enables us to meet the challenge when we're willing to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in awhile, when I'm laughing at Jack on &lt;i&gt;30 Rock&lt;/i&gt; or when I see you in an interview, I remember the prayer I prayed for you and Ireland when I first heard that tape. And I pray for both of you again. I pray that God will heal your hurts. I pray that he will give you a loving, healthy relationship with one another. I pray that he'll help you both to forget the bad stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I pray that you will make a new start with Christ, and when you do, that the light shining in you will be impossible to miss. That would be something to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your secret admirer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. for God did not end his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. ~ John 3:16-17&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5065022092481835471?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5065022092481835471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/dear-alec.html#comment-form' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5065022092481835471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5065022092481835471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/09/dear-alec.html' title='Dear Alec'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TH88spgASHI/AAAAAAAAAmA/SmSjFkcTaVY/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1939286040481901027</id><published>2010-08-28T15:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T22:54:11.119-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood memories'/><title type='text'>My Childhood Neighborhood</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/THljSkPvA2I/AAAAAAAAAlY/BwQU1957lGM/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/THljSkPvA2I/AAAAAAAAAlY/BwQU1957lGM/s200/writersworkshop.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been another busy week at work, and the one night I didn't work late, I was busy enjoying the final night of a favorite summertime activity - a weekly outdoor concert. It was the only one I made it to this summer, primarily due to the excessively hot weather we experienced. So while I can't say the dog ate my homework, I still think I have a decent excuse for being late with my writing assignment from &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/08/writing-prompts-47/?utm_source=feedburner&amp;amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;amp;utm_campaign=Feed%3A+MamasLosinIt+%28Mama%27s+Losin%27+It%29"&gt;Mama Kat&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The topic was one I had to write on. My family moved quite a bit, but there was one house that we all think of as home. We lived there a little over 6 years, from shortly before my 3rd birthday, until shortly after my 9th. It was the last house we lived in as a family, as my brother was 18 when we left that house to move out-of-state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in a wonderful neighborhood, filled with cottage-type brick homes, most of which were painted, keeping them from looking alike. There were big trees to climb, and to provide lots of shade. The only flaw was that, in the entire time we lived there, there were never any families with kids my age in the neighborhood. But there were plenty of kids the same ages as my older brother and sister, so it wasn't often that I noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/THlsmfy--4I/AAAAAAAAAlg/cQf__O7LNqY/s1600/In+front+of+house+b%26w.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/THlsmfy--4I/AAAAAAAAAlg/cQf__O7LNqY/s320/In+front+of+house+b%26w.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;With my sister and brother in front of the last&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;house where we all lived together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our house was on the corner of the block. At our end, there was a major arterial street, and at the other end there was a creek, where we were forbidden to play. Those boundaries created a tight, well-defined neighborhood. I always knew that my brother spent time &lt;strike&gt;in&lt;/strike&gt;, um, &lt;i&gt;around &lt;/i&gt;the creek, and I remember one Saturday when my sister and I found ourselves in the general vicinity of the creek, as well. OK, it might have been more than the &lt;i&gt;vicinity &lt;/i&gt;of the creek. I thought maybe our parents wouldn't find out, but apparently the mud on our shoes was a giant tip-off. That was the last time I went anywhere near the creek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the kind of neighborhood where everyone knew their neighbors. The houses were built right before World War II, and they were among the earliest houses to feature attached garages. What they did &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; feature was central air conditioning, so people spent lots of time outside during the summer months. And no one had a privacy fence. We probably would have been suspicious of the mere concept of a privacy fence. I can imagine people wondering, "Just what are they trying to hide?" No, we could see everyone's backyard through good old-fashioned chain link fences, the kind of fence a kid could climb. And climb, we often did since it was much easier than walking around the block to the street behind us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since there weren't kids my age, when I wasn't tagging along with my siblings, I often visited the neighbors' houses. The Hollands lived next door. I think they were probably in their late 50's or early 60's. They had a son who was grown and he lived in another state. Maybe it was because they didn't get to be around their grandchildren, but they always seemed delighted for me to stop by and visit. Mrs. Holland took me out once a year for ice cream. At Christmas, I loved to go see their flocked Christmas tree, filled with pink ornaments. I was convinced the Hollands must be rich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were other interesting neighbors, including two houses owned by a couple of single women, Marie and Ruthie. Marie was kind of flashy and she always drove T-Birds. Next door to Marie was Ruthie, who was kind of the anti-Marie, totally down to earth. I still remember the Saturday afternoon I stopped by to see Ruthie and she was talking about those poor astronauts who had died in a fire. I always flash back to Ruthie's living room whenever I hear anything about &lt;a href="http://history.nasa.gov/Apollo204/"&gt;Apollo 1 and its lost astronauts, Grissom, White, and Chaffee&lt;/a&gt;. Ruthie had her house painted every year or two, always making a drastic color change. I remember one time it was brown, then it was avocado green. It was even harvest gold at one point. To tell you the truth, &lt;i&gt;nobody &lt;/i&gt;liked the gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of houses down from Ruthie was the Kitchens' house. Mr. Kitchen was the self-appointed landscaping cop for the neighborhood. If you didn't keep your hedges trimmed to his satisfaction, he would show up and do it for you. (We might have learned that lesson the hard way.) The Kitchens did have something that I loved - a couple of granddaughters who were close to my age. And despite my family's low landscaping standards, Mr. Kitchen didn't mind letting me in the house to play with the girls when they visited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During summer months, my sister and her friends often ventured beyond the confines of our immediate neighborhood. They &lt;strike&gt;had no choice but to&lt;/strike&gt; were &lt;i&gt;nice &lt;/i&gt;enough to let me tag along. Across the street from our neighborhood was a neighborhood much like ours, except that it melded into an area full of mansions that had been built by oil barons in the 1920s. Sometimes we would walk through that area to a museum that was located in one those fabulous houses. Mostly we would spend the afternoon on the magnificent grounds, with a beautiful gazebo, ponds, a summer house, and terraces. Sometimes we would go inside to walk through the rooms that had once been home to a family, imagining what it would be like to live in such a grand place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other days we would walk up the street to a nearby business area that, despite it's original designation of "suburban" shopping, was not unlike the main street of a small town. It was filled with&amp;nbsp; a treasure trove of places to visit. There was a small family-owned grocery store, with the most wonderful bakery in the back. Long after we moved, we continued to go back and visit the bakery. Next to the grocery store was a pet store where I loved to look at the puppies and kittens. Across the street, there was a movie theater. I wish I could tell you we spent lots of summer afternoons at that theater, but I can't because there were two entire summers when the theater played &lt;i&gt;The Sound of Music&lt;/i&gt;. (It began the summer after I got out of kindergarten, and it didn't leave until the Christmas I was in 2nd grade.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those businesses are all gone now, replaced by bars and upscale shops. The neighborhood, too, has become much trendier, but has still managed to avoid the McMansion craze of many neighborhoods in that part of town. Privacy fences have replaced the chain link fences, and I'm sure like most neighborhoods, central air has changed its flavor making it the kind of neighborhood where neighbors don't &lt;i&gt;really &lt;/i&gt;know each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course our city has changed, too. It's not as safe as it once was, and I can't imagine allowing girls to wander off as we did, to explore surrounding neighborhoods on summer afternoons. And there aren't many parents now who would allow their young daughter to go visit the neighbors alone. So although the neighborhood still looks much the same, the neighborhood that I knew is gone forever. The people who live their now have no idea what they're missing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure to go over to &lt;span id="goog_1686298579"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/08/writers-workshop/"&gt;Mama Kat's&lt;span id="goog_1686298580"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and check out the work of others who accepted this week's assignment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1939286040481901027?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1939286040481901027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-childhood-neighborhood.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1939286040481901027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1939286040481901027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-childhood-neighborhood.html' title='My Childhood Neighborhood'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/THljSkPvA2I/AAAAAAAAAlY/BwQU1957lGM/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-6198497655698954532</id><published>2010-08-20T20:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T22:55:11.208-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='resolution'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='name-calling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fighting'/><title type='text'>Na Na Na Na Boo Boo</title><content type='html'>A group of friends from high school gathered recently, and the topic soon turned to a classmate who had died unexpectedly a few months ago. He was the kind of guy who everybody liked, even if we didn't know him well. He had a kind, gentle spirit, and was always thoughtful and polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone brought up the fact that the name we had known him by in high school was not the name he had always had. He had actually changed both his first and last names - as well as his school - when we were still in grade school. I had first known him at the first school, when he went by the original name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person telling this story said he had hated that name because kids in our class had come up with a rhyme to make fun of him. While I don't remember that, it didn't surprise me. I clearly remember the day in 7th grade when I realized he was the same guy I had once known by another name. We were in our French class, and I guess the teacher had left the room for a couple of minutes because one of the girls yelled at him across the room, asking why he had changed his name. At first, he looked kind of stunned, then I realized the expression was one of pain. The girl who was questioning him was relentless, but he did not respond in anger or even defensiveness. He tried to avoid answering her at first, but when it soon became evident that she would not let it go, he graciously gave her an explanation that satisfied her. I don't remember the subject ever coming up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the recent gathering of friends, naturally the conversation turned towards the cruelty of children, and the names they can come up with. I found myself wondering if name-calling is something we really outgrow. Does it just take on a new form?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TG80u-iJYlI/AAAAAAAAAlI/EaVXjyCye00/s1600/fighting+boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TG80u-iJYlI/AAAAAAAAAlI/EaVXjyCye00/s320/fighting+boys.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We argue about so much on both a local and national level, often stooping to name-calling. My city has had a new mayor since last December and he and our City Council are constantly fighting one another, accomplishing precious little for our city. It's not even partisan bickering, as some of the councilors who are yelling the loudest belong to the same party as our mayor. Nationally, the House of Representatives and the Senate are no better. The cable networks fuel the fighting, from both the left and the right. And all that arguing often degenerates into name-calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep wondering where the grownups are. When will we get past this period where we fight over &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to take people who are willing to discuss our problems calmly and respectfully, even with those with whom they disagree. It's going to take people who are willing to hear each other's views, not just shout over them. It's going to take people with the courage of that 7th grade boy to graciously respond to an attack instead of striking back. It's going to take people who are willing to act like adults, and not children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I  reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind  me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt; ~ I Corinthians 13:11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-6198497655698954532?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/6198497655698954532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/na-na-na-na-boo-boo.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6198497655698954532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/6198497655698954532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/na-na-na-na-boo-boo.html' title='Na Na Na Na Boo Boo'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TG80u-iJYlI/AAAAAAAAAlI/EaVXjyCye00/s72-c/fighting+boys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3970273528231244237</id><published>2010-08-17T22:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T22:59:48.694-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did Not Want to Write About This...</title><content type='html'>Let me tell you, I tried to avoid this topic. When I saw other bloggers writing about it, I quietly backed away, not wanting to get sucked into the debate. It's not an easy subject, and while on the surface it seems to be one over which many disagree, that is not really the case at all. The majority of Americans are in agreement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that troubles me, &lt;i&gt;greatly&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have become a country of kneejerk reactions. We get caught up in emotion, and we don't want to be influenced by anything that contradicts the emotion. Once in a blue moon, as in this case, an overwhelming majority of Americans agree on a topic. We begin to think if the majority agrees, then it &lt;i&gt;must &lt;/i&gt;be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe we're wrong in that assumption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes the majority agrees because emotion carries the day, preventing a reasonable discussion of the facts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Sometimes the majority agrees because they are presented with superficial choices. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes the majority agrees because it's easier than reaching difficult and painful conclusions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Sometimes the majority agrees because we have forgotten who we are as a nation, where we came from, and what we stand for.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I woke up today to a discussion on &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3036789/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Morning Joe&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt; about former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, and his assertion that New York City should not allow a Islamic center to be built near Ground Zero as long as the government Saudi Arabia does not permit churches to be built in their country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Excuse me, but a former Speaker of the House of Representatives thinks the government of&amp;nbsp; Saudi Arabia should set the standard for the United States of America? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGsntVNJpiI/AAAAAAAAAk4/orv49N3PNpY/s1600/constitution.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGsntVNJpiI/AAAAAAAAAk4/orv49N3PNpY/s320/constitution.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;"&gt;As Americans, the standard for our government is set by the Constitution of the United States. &lt;/span&gt;A Constitution that protects &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;of us. A Constitution that permits freedom of worship for &lt;i&gt;each and every one of us&lt;/i&gt;. For a former Speaker of the House to suggest that we should lower ourselves to the standard of a country that does not afford its citizens those freedoms is beyond my comprehension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what bothers me much more is not the constitutional issue. &lt;span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;"&gt;As a follower of Christ, the standard for me is much higher than the Constitution. The standard for me is Jesus Christ himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September 11 is burned into my memory, as I'm sure it is burned into yours. I watched the second plane hit the World Trade Center as I was leaving for work. I arrived at my office to learn that the Pentagon had been hit, as well. One of my coworkers had a son who was working in the Pentagon that day and it would take several agonizing hours for her to learn that her son was safe. I work at a high school, and we crowded into a storeroom in the library with teachers and staff and watched in dismay as the first building fell. I looked into the faces of our students and wondered if they had any concept of how much the world had changed that morning. I drove to church that evening for a prayer service, and as I drove, I thanked God that I didn't have children to raise in a world that could be so cruel. At the service, I was honored to light a candle for the victims of Flight 93, the plane that crashed into a Pennsylvania field. In the following days, we learned of the courage of those victims, who were determined to do everything they could to keep the hijackers from crashing the plane into another building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I remember the pain of 9/11 vividly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;Muslims were not responsible for that pain, just as all Christians are not responsible for the crimes of a handful of those who call themselves Christians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that God calls me to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that God calls me to be a witness to a world that is lost, a world that lives in darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that even if I believed for a minute that all Muslims were connected to the attacks on 9/11, &lt;i&gt;I would be called to forgive&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGsn2O6L1qI/AAAAAAAAAlA/C24heHFvQbU/s1600/bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGsn2O6L1qI/AAAAAAAAAlA/C24heHFvQbU/s320/bible.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Matthew 5:44 &lt;/b&gt;- &lt;i&gt;But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Luke 6:27-28&lt;/b&gt; - &lt;i&gt;But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Luke 6:31&lt;/b&gt; - &lt;i&gt;Do unto others as you would have them do to you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Luke 6:35&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; - &lt;i&gt;But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in  return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most  High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Luke 23:34&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; - &lt;i&gt;Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what  they are doing." And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Christ forgave those who put Him to death, even as He was on the cross. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;As horrific as 9/11 was, do we think it was worse than the crucifixion of Christ?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am humbled by Christ's words. Reading them, I can still feel the pain I felt on 9/11;.pain for those who were lost and for their families; pain for those who are still suffering nearly 9 years later. But I can't hang onto the anger. I can't hate. I can't set conditions for forgiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were actually a lot of other things I was going to say, but in the light of Christ's words, none of them matter. After all, this is blog about faith. You might disagree with my conclusion. You might think it's time for me to change the title of my blog to &lt;i&gt;Single and Insane.&lt;/i&gt; But I hope you'll consider the words of Christ, and how they should impact the role His followers should play in any public debate, particularly one filled with such emotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - If you're still reading, here are a couple of links if you would like to read more about the Islamic center. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2010/08/06/the-real-ground-zero.html"&gt;Fareed Zakariah wrote a column for Newsweek&lt;/a&gt; on the topic, and in it he spoke of Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, who is spearheading the building of the Islamic Center. Zakariah reports that Rauf "routinely denounces all terrorism—as he did again last week, publicly." He goes on to add,  "His [Rauf's] vision of Islam is bin Laden’s nightmare." To me, &lt;i&gt;that alone&lt;/i&gt; is a reason to think the center might not be a bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703545604575407673221908474.html?KEYWORDS=mosque+and+ground+and+zero"&gt;This is a link to Mayor Michael Bloomberg's speech&lt;/a&gt; that is referenced in the article above. It is an eloquent call to rise above the fray, even if the Wall Street Journal chose to call it &lt;i&gt;quasi-elegant&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3970273528231244237?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3970273528231244237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-did-not-want-to-write-about-this.html#comment-form' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3970273528231244237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3970273528231244237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-did-not-want-to-write-about-this.html' title='I Did Not Want to Write About This...'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGsntVNJpiI/AAAAAAAAAk4/orv49N3PNpY/s72-c/constitution.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-735926211581687236</id><published>2010-08-13T19:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T23:04:01.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas</title><content type='html'>It's still dangerously hot, of course. In the &lt;b&gt;month &lt;/b&gt;since my Minnesota vacation filled with pleasant warm days and cool nights, the weather at home has been stifling &lt;i&gt;around the clock&lt;/i&gt;. We have had excessive heat warnings for all but 4 or 5 days in the past month, and it doesn't cool below the low 80's at night. If the high hasn't actually been above 100 degrees, then the heat index&amp;nbsp; - what the temperature actually feels like - has well exceeded the century mark, usually in the neighborhood of 110-115.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School started this week, and it just doesn't feel right to still be this hot. But there might be a light at the end of this suffocating tunnel. All week long, there have been promises of a cool front by the weekend. Imagine my disappointment when I looked online yesterday afternoon and saw this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXOs1kJ6_I/AAAAAAAAAkY/hqHQwDWwlw8/s1600/Forecast+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="260" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXOs1kJ6_I/AAAAAAAAAkY/hqHQwDWwlw8/s400/Forecast+A.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cool front was supposed to be here by &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Saturday&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. What was that 100-degree business doing there? Naturally, I started looking for a forecast that would be more to my liking. Instead, I found &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXOx3AaK2I/AAAAAAAAAkg/8UHyx2LD9LE/s1600/Forecast+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="187" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXOx3AaK2I/AAAAAAAAAkg/8UHyx2LD9LE/s400/Forecast+B.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right. That station's predicted high for Saturday was 104, which doesn't look like a cool front to me. And leaving that "Excessive Heat Warning" off of the graphic doesn't make it feel any better. Not. one. bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be deterred, I checked one more station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXRln-eWCI/AAAAAAAAAkw/1QYqduXP3ZI/s1600/Forecast+C.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="202" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXRln-eWCI/AAAAAAAAAkw/1QYqduXP3ZI/s400/Forecast+C.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hallelujah! A forecast temperature under 100 degrees! Honestly, 98 still isn't much of a cool front, and today that station has since joined the chorus of "Hotter than Hades" predictions and raised the forecast high for Saturday to 104. But Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday promise to be in the LOW 90s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited that I'm thinking about getting my winter clothes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 align="center" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,&lt;br /&gt;In the lane, snow is glistening&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful sight,&lt;br /&gt;We're happy tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Walking in a winter wonderland.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret &lt;/i&gt;;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-735926211581687236?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/735926211581687236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-beginning-to-feel-lot-like.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/735926211581687236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/735926211581687236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-beginning-to-feel-lot-like.html' title='It&apos;s Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TGXOs1kJ6_I/AAAAAAAAAkY/hqHQwDWwlw8/s72-c/Forecast+A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8114745506722455189</id><published>2010-08-06T06:00:00.022-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T23:03:04.636-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepparents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feuding couples'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stepchildren'/><title type='text'>He Said, She Said</title><content type='html'>Or maybe it should be, "She said, he said."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I just posted yesterday about being too busy to blog right now, but there is an aspect to this story that is so irritating, I just had to stay up and write about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFuImp6HFHI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/6ApgvKmy4gY/s1600/sleeping-beauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFuImp6HFHI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/6ApgvKmy4gY/s320/sleeping-beauty.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tuesday morning, &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/"&gt;the &lt;i&gt;Today &lt;/i&gt;show featured an interview with Lynn France&lt;/a&gt;, who says she discovered pictures from her husband's wedding on Facebook....&lt;i&gt;while she was still married to him&lt;/i&gt;. Lynn and John France were married in 2005 in an extravagant destination wedding which took place in Italy. By 2008, she was beginning to suspect that John was having an affair. She tracked John down and discovered him with Amanda, who told Lynn that she and John planned to be married. John left Lynn soon after that. According to Lynn, John took the couples' two young sons without her knowledge from their home in Ohio to Florida, where he now lives with his new wife, Amanda. John claims that his marriage to Lynn was not valid due to a clerical error, and he has filed in Florida courts for custody of the children. Although Lynn discovered hundreds of pictures of John's wedding to Amanda at Disney World - &lt;i&gt;apparently Amanda was dressed as Sleeping Beauty and John was dressed as Prince Charming&lt;/i&gt; - she told Meredith Vieira that the most painful part was finding pictures of her children on Amanda's Facebook page, leading her to feel taunted by Amanda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning, John and Amanda showed up on the &lt;i&gt;Today &lt;/i&gt;show's couch for &lt;a href="http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/38572863/ns/today-today_people/"&gt;their own interview with Matt Lauer&lt;/a&gt;. John's version of the story is that Lynn knew that their marriage wasn't valid and that he was leaving her to marry Amanda. While saying he would not speak negatively about the mother of his children on national television, he strongly implied that she was either delusional or lying outright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to tell you, I think Lynn and John are probably both playing a little loose with the facts to strengthen their own case. In all likelihood, the truth lies somewhere in between their two stories. I'm not sure either parent is prepared to put their feelings about the other aside long enough to do the best thing for the boys. Having said that, I lean towards Lynn's side since John and Amanda were about as sympathetic as the &lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2010/08/05/2010-08-05_whoopi_hit_her_nah_another_whopper_by_salahis.html"&gt;Salahis&lt;/a&gt;, particularly when Matt and Amanda had the following exchange:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Matt&lt;/b&gt;:&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="speaker"&gt;Amanda , it seems that one of the things that bothers Lynn  the most is when she looks on Facebook  and she says postings of photos with you and the boys, and, 'I'm putting my  little angels  to bed,' that sort of thing. That you refer to them almost as your boys. Do you understand that at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="speaker"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="mark"&gt;&lt;span class="speaker"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amanda&lt;/b&gt;: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="speaker"&gt;Yeah, I understand that perfectly. But, you know  what, I love them more than life. And they're not my kids. But when  they're with me, you know, I treat them like they are mine. You know,  they're not mistreated. I don't know why there's a problem. It should  not be a problem. I'm not taunting her. In my mind, taunting, the  definition is going on  national TV  and making  false accusations .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously Amanda is clueless, and I'm sure she and John are no more interested in what I think than in what Lynn thinks, but nevertheless, here's my advice:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will not treat them like possessions&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will not use them to mark your territory on Facebook&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will not come between them and their mother&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will honor their mother&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will be sensitive to their mother's feelings&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will treat their mother with respect&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you love those children more than life,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;you will not build yourself up by causing their mother pain&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"&lt;i&gt;So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you...&lt;/i&gt;"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;~ Matthew 7:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8114745506722455189?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8114745506722455189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/he-said-she-said.html#comment-form' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8114745506722455189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8114745506722455189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/he-said-she-said.html' title='He Said, She Said'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFuImp6HFHI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/6ApgvKmy4gY/s72-c/sleeping-beauty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4825068020975109406</id><published>2010-08-05T07:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T23:05:23.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging Distractions</title><content type='html'>Ever since I took a couple of weeks off in July, my blogging has slowed to a crawl. Once I got back from vacation, work went into high gear. I'm part of the support staff at a private high school and our freshmen will come for orientation beginning today, then school starts next Thursday. (Sure, it' over 100 degrees, but by golly, we'll get finals in before Christmas!) With the start of school so near, I've been putting in extra time at work and even bringing some work home so I haven't had as much time...or energy...or &lt;i&gt;inspiration &lt;/i&gt;for blogging at the end of the day. I'm still trying to keep up up with your blogs, but I'm not commenting much to keep my time online down to a minimum. The blogging drought will likely continue for another week or two, but hopefully I'll soon be back to a regular schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond the start of school, another distraction this week has been the arrival of my niece and her family. My niece and her husband met halfway across the country, and soon discovered that they're both from the same hometown. They had no intention of moving back here, but once they had a baby girl, they began to see the advantages of raising her in a city where she would be surrounded by extended family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The X-Girl was born in March, and I don't mind telling you she is the cutest, smartest, and sweetest baby ever. When I met her for the first time on Tuesday, I saw the generations that came before. In her smile, I saw the faces of her three great-grandparents on our side of the family who she'll never meet, and vowed that she will see their pictures and hear their stories. Seeing the X-Girl reminded me of the first time I saw her mom and each of her uncles and led me to me wonder where the time went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I picked her up for her first picture with me, she suddenly became fascinated by the activity behind me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFqpCRxej9I/AAAAAAAAAkI/B226e96uKyw/s1600/Tante+and+X-Girl+1st+Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFqpCRxej9I/AAAAAAAAAkI/B226e96uKyw/s400/Tante+and+X-Girl+1st+Pic.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4825068020975109406?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4825068020975109406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/blogging-distractions.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4825068020975109406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4825068020975109406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/08/blogging-distractions.html' title='Blogging Distractions'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFqpCRxej9I/AAAAAAAAAkI/B226e96uKyw/s72-c/Tante+and+X-Girl+1st+Pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5411270835135281655</id><published>2010-07-29T21:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T23:06:59.673-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura Ingalls Wilder'/><title type='text'>On the Banks of Plum Creek</title><content type='html'>My family was fortunate enough to live near my grandmother's aunt when I was growing up. Aunt Lucia was an avid reader, and she introduced the &lt;a href="http://www.littlehousebooks.com/"&gt;books of Laura Ingalls Wilder&lt;/a&gt; to my sister, who in turn, introduced them to me. So it was an unexpected treat to visit the site of &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Banks-Plum-Creek-Little-House/dp/0060581832/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1280403014&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;On the Banks of Plum Creek&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; with my sister and our mom a couple of weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIrJljC3kI/AAAAAAAAAjA/tdZBDsv84cI/s1600/Plum+Creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIrJljC3kI/AAAAAAAAAjA/tdZBDsv84cI/s320/Plum+Creek.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was the book that featured the Ingalls family's sod house, which was built along the creek. The spot is a couple of miles from Walnut Grove, which you may remember from the&lt;a href="http://www.tv.com/little-house-on-the-prairie/show/732/summary.html"&gt; TV show&lt;/a&gt;. Walnut Grove is where you will find a &lt;a href="http://www.walnutgrove.org/museum.htm"&gt;Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum&lt;/a&gt;, one of several scattered across the Northern Plains and the Midwest, in towns featured in the &lt;a href="http://www.littlehousebooks.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Little House&lt;/i&gt; books&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIrpwgZpYI/AAAAAAAAAjI/TnpgOpkRIPQ/s1600/LIW+Museum+Sites.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="181" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIrpwgZpYI/AAAAAAAAAjI/TnpgOpkRIPQ/s400/LIW+Museum+Sites.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Despite the vivid description of harsh winter weather, Laura made the home on Plum Creek seem&amp;nbsp; like a particularly cozy and magical place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFF105WV2mI/AAAAAAAAAi4/mok_yY01Mek/s1600/Dugout+Print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="238" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFF105WV2mI/AAAAAAAAAi4/mok_yY01Mek/s400/Dugout+Print.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;"Laura's Pioneer Memories"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Artist: J.D. Speltz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Walnut Grove Series &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Wilder Pageant 20th Anniversary Print&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It seems magical in person, too. You can imagine the girls playing, fishing, and bathing in the creek. Wildflowers are abundant, and so are butterflies. Sadly, the butterflies moved far too quickly for me to catch in a picture.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIr5E_-f5I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/SbporhGjxbk/s1600/Plum+Creek+Spring.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIr5E_-f5I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/SbporhGjxbk/s400/Plum+Creek+Spring.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsAGp8XcI/AAAAAAAAAjY/CO2-mA8t4SU/s1600/Plum+Creek+Flowers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsAGp8XcI/AAAAAAAAAjY/CO2-mA8t4SU/s400/Plum+Creek+Flowers.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dugout caved in years ago, but a sign marks the site. There's still farmland there, too, with open fields extending across the Minnesota prairie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsQb26kpI/AAAAAAAAAjg/n2YFVh9ir3E/s1600/Sign+Over+Dugout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsQb26kpI/AAAAAAAAAjg/n2YFVh9ir3E/s400/Sign+Over+Dugout.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsXUK_ClI/AAAAAAAAAjo/y5UcjNc7Asc/s1600/Dugout+Sign+Closeup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIsXUK_ClI/AAAAAAAAAjo/y5UcjNc7Asc/s400/Dugout+Sign+Closeup.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The museum in Walnut Grove features a replica of the dugout, making it clear just how tight the quarters were for Laura and her family. There was room for a bed, a table, a small stove...and not a heck of a lot else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFItCuXJglI/AAAAAAAAAj4/3yV6Ntlj0FA/s1600/Dugout+Replica.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFItCuXJglI/AAAAAAAAAj4/3yV6Ntlj0FA/s400/Dugout+Replica.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the replica of the dugout was another field of wildflowers. As much as I loved reading the &lt;i&gt;Little House&lt;/i&gt; books growing up, I never expected to see where the stories took place, or to walk where Laura played. I can't believe it's just an hour from my sister's house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFItbWbv6KI/AAAAAAAAAkA/KFV5iSbdbjA/s1600/At+LIW+Musuem.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="366" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFItbWbv6KI/AAAAAAAAAkA/KFV5iSbdbjA/s400/At+LIW+Musuem.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;You shall go out in joy&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;and be led forth in peace;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;the mountains and hills&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;will burst into song before you,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;and all the trees of the field&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;will clap their hands.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Isaiah 55:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5411270835135281655?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5411270835135281655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-banks-of-plum-creek.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5411270835135281655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5411270835135281655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-banks-of-plum-creek.html' title='On the Banks of Plum Creek'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TFIrJljC3kI/AAAAAAAAAjA/tdZBDsv84cI/s72-c/Plum+Creek.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-3797656486630228650</id><published>2010-07-24T01:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T01:14:19.159-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flying'/><title type='text'>The Great Plains</title><content type='html'>My sister lives 700 miles from my home. It's a journey from the southern to the northern plains, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that everyone seemed to assume such a trip would involve air travel. My mom and I made the trip together and flying never crossed our minds. I don't mind the actual &lt;i&gt;flying &lt;/i&gt;part of flying, but the restrictions, the security checks, the delays (both planned and unplanned) and the general hassle make the idea most unappealing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides the frustrations related to flying, you miss out on a lot. All of my life, my mother has told stories about the 5 years her family spent in Omaha leading up to World War II. So after driving through eastern Kansas, which is much prettier than I had pictured, I finally got to see Omaha and discovered it's not the city I've pictured. It's beautiful, with hills and trees, and reminds me of my hometown. Mom always told us how hard it was to have to take her driving test in downtown Omaha, which had steep hills. And it turns out she didn't exaggerate &lt;i&gt;too &lt;/i&gt;much, as there are some pretty steep hills downtown, but it's not exactly San Francisco, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp5WkniTqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/saMJ3U7ZarA/s1600/Welcome+to+Omaha.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="197" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp5WkniTqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/saMJ3U7ZarA/s400/Welcome+to+Omaha.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We drove by the houses where Mom and her family lived, including the house where they heard Franklin Roosevelt speak in December of 1941 about the "day that would live in infamy." I could picture my grandparents and Mom and her younger brother gathered around a radio in the living room of that house, as the US entered the war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom has often told stories about the Catholic school that she and another  Protestant friend attended in the 9th grade. When one of her classmates  announced that she was leaving to attended a public school, a Nun told  her to go right ahead and lose her soul. (Most of Mom's stories revolved  around fits of giggles during Latin Mass, as Mom and her friend were  totally clueless about Catholic traditions.) I finally saw the parish that housed my Mother's brief foray into Catholic education and discovered something I never knew before - her school was on the campus of Creighton University and it's absolutely beautiful. (She insists that it wasn't that pretty then, and she seems to remember snow pretty much year-round in Omaha.) By the way, you can't tell it here, but the church sits on one of those Omaha hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEpndX4a25I/AAAAAAAAAhg/i86lFKC6sAY/s1600/St+John+Parish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEpndX4a25I/AAAAAAAAAhg/i86lFKC6sAY/s320/St+John+Parish.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we drove, we saw fields of corn, soy beans, and sugar beets as far as the eye could see. I know that doesn't sound very exciting, but those fields were a sight to behold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp5_zhuyYI/AAAAAAAAAh4/q4JdMC9RyXQ/s1600/Corn+Field.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp5_zhuyYI/AAAAAAAAAh4/q4JdMC9RyXQ/s320/Corn+Field.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp6GB7X2yI/AAAAAAAAAiA/WeMCtRbrHwg/s1600/Fields.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp6GB7X2yI/AAAAAAAAAiA/WeMCtRbrHwg/s320/Fields.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp6R8BIcQI/AAAAAAAAAiI/jXec0yGiX-w/s1600/Farm+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp6R8BIcQI/AAAAAAAAAiI/jXec0yGiX-w/s320/Farm+1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We drove through small towns with their wonderful architecture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp67dChVcI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/SVRnseod174/s1600/Sioux+Center+Bank.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp67dChVcI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/SVRnseod174/s320/Sioux+Center+Bank.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7NKNOXZI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VHTn6P7eKTU/s1600/Granite+Falls+Church.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7NKNOXZI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VHTn6P7eKTU/s320/Granite+Falls+Church.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;As we neared my sister's small town, we passed a wind farm, which was an unexpected delight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7T0ZV3II/AAAAAAAAAig/KsnZjFDoa8k/s1600/Wind+Farm+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7T0ZV3II/AAAAAAAAAig/KsnZjFDoa8k/s320/Wind+Farm+1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7ZumwcqI/AAAAAAAAAio/cfnXf7wIvWo/s1600/Wind+Farm+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7ZumwcqI/AAAAAAAAAio/cfnXf7wIvWo/s320/Wind+Farm+2.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7gsW4BfI/AAAAAAAAAiw/FsAubH28iUY/s1600/Wind+Farm+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp7gsW4BfI/AAAAAAAAAiw/FsAubH28iUY/s320/Wind+Farm+3.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It was a long drive, a good 13 or 14 hours, but it was a relaxing drive as we soaked up all that we saw along the way and had the opportunity to spend time together that is hard to find when we're back in the regular routine of our lives. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And it was much better than flying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;This is my Father's world,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;and to my listening ears all nature sings,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;and round me rings the music of the spheres.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;This is my Father's world:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I rest me in the thought&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;His hand the wonders wrought.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Blessings,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-3797656486630228650?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/3797656486630228650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/great-plains.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3797656486630228650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/3797656486630228650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/great-plains.html' title='The Great Plains'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TEp5WkniTqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/saMJ3U7ZarA/s72-c/Welcome+to+Omaha.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4518448565973283947</id><published>2010-07-19T07:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T07:30:00.713-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childlessness'/><title type='text'>When  Do We Hand Over Our Desires to God? (Reprised)</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;This is one more post from last year to give me time to focus on returning to work after a couple of weeks off. This first posted on July 16, 2009. While the death of the older mom is no longer breaking news, the story of watching time on the biological clock tick away is told over and over again, by women of all ages, both married and single.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TERCJ9Ul2JI/AAAAAAAAAhY/lazPQp2olUQ/s1600/July+2010+Mostly+Minnesota+135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TERCJ9Ul2JI/AAAAAAAAAhY/lazPQp2olUQ/s320/July+2010+Mostly+Minnesota+135.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This morning we learned that the &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/07/16/spain.twins.mother.dead/index.html"&gt;woman who gave birth a week shy of her 67th birthday, sparking a debate about how old is too old to give birth, died over the weekend&lt;/a&gt;. Her twin boys are not quite 3-years-old. Her mother had lived to be 101, but even as Maria del Carmen Bousada was undergoing the fertility treatments that allowed her to give birth, God knew that Maria would not experience her mother's longevity, and she would not live to raise her two sons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't begin to pretend that I know what Maria went through that drove her to lie about her age and go through fertility treatments at a time when most women her age would be planning retirement. It would be presumptuous of me to say that God could not have been behind that intense desire. I only know that for me, there came a time to let go of the dream of children and hand that desire over to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think I would have 3 or 4 kids. By my early 30s, while I began to suspect God had a different plan, I still had an intense desire for children. I finally prayed, if it wasn't going to happen, that God would remove the desire for children from my heart. Not knowing that was my prayer, a few years later a friend told me she would never pray that prayer because it seemed selfish to her. She thought it just seemed too easy. I was able to assure her there was nothing easy about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God designed us to have hopes and dreams. He also designed us to grieve over loss. We grieve when we lose people we love. We grieve when we lose pets. We grieve when we lose jobs. And we grieve when we lose dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I asked God to remove the desire for children if they were not to be a part of my life, He led me though the grief process for my lost dream. And because grief takes time, it was a long process, at least 2 or 3 years. It was every bit as painful as the death of a close family member. I knew I had come through it when one day a friend from high school asked if I would be OK with never having kids, I responded "yes" without hesitation, and without pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was during this time that I began to understand the meaning of Psalm 37:4 - "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart&lt;/span&gt;." I realized that verse was never meant to be a blueprint for manipulating God and that it doesn't mean that if we spend enough time with God then He will reward us with whatever we desire. It means that if we spend enough time with God, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; desires will be replaced with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;His &lt;/span&gt;desires. And I learned to trust His desires for me and my life. And I learned to love Him that much more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4518448565973283947?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4518448565973283947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-do-we-hand-over-our-desires-to-god.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4518448565973283947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4518448565973283947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-do-we-hand-over-our-desires-to-god.html' title='When  Do We Hand Over Our Desires to God? (Reprised)'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TERCJ9Ul2JI/AAAAAAAAAhY/lazPQp2olUQ/s72-c/July+2010+Mostly+Minnesota+135.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8773365988682567391</id><published>2010-07-12T06:00:00.021-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T06:00:00.896-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singleness vs. marriage'/><title type='text'>The Advantages of a Motorcycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;As my &lt;strike&gt;vacation&lt;/strike&gt; withdrawal from blogging continues, I'm offering another early post that you probably haven't seen before. I think I only had a couple of followers the first time around. &lt;/i&gt;;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/SiWr3Sm34JI/AAAAAAAAAEo/OFw_iyBmTVU/s1600-h/motorcycle.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342865499321000082" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/SiWr3Sm34JI/AAAAAAAAAEo/OFw_iyBmTVU/s400/motorcycle.jpg" style="display: block; height: 182px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 242px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years ago, I had a single friend who had come up with an analogy for singleness. She said that being single was like riding a motorcycle - you're exposed to the elements without any protection. Meanwhile, being married was like riding in a car. You have heat and A/C, plus protection from wind and rain, and more than that, some added protection in the event of an accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went on to add that being married to the wrong person was like being trapped in a car with a wild animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;many &lt;/span&gt;years since then, I've often thought about that analogy, particularly when I was feeling sorry for myself. Recently though, I've started looking at it differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when you're on a motorcycle - something I'm hardly an expert on - you can go around trouble spots rather than being held hostage in a line of traffic. It can be a faster and easier way to get around. And even though you're exposed to the elements, you can often pull under a bridge or a covering somewhere along the way - allowing God to provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, riding in a car can have its negative issues, too. There's sheer terror when you tap on the brakes and realize they're not working.&amp;nbsp; There are annoyances when the air conditioning goes out on the hottest of days and rolling the windows down just doesn't help at all. And we all know the frustration of a car that won't start. Some marriages are broken too, and riding in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;car isn't remotely pleasant or comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we're riding a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;motorcycle&lt;/span&gt; on life's journey, we often learn to trust God in a way that I don't know comes easily to married couples. It's so easy to put your trust in another person and never learn what it means to lean on God for &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt;. The relationship with God that singleness brings is an &lt;i&gt;amazing &lt;/i&gt;gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;     &lt;i&gt;Some trust in chariots and some in horses,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;but we trust in the  name of the Lord our God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Psalm 20:7  (NIV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8773365988682567391?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8773365988682567391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/advantages-of-motorcycle.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8773365988682567391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8773365988682567391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/advantages-of-motorcycle.html' title='The Advantages of a Motorcycle'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/SiWr3Sm34JI/AAAAAAAAAEo/OFw_iyBmTVU/s72-c/motorcycle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-5500413514896187712</id><published>2010-07-08T06:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T22:44:16.431-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='middle-aged singleness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Andy Taylor'/><title type='text'>Andy Taylor, Redux</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;I am in vacation mode for the next week or so. I thought this would be a good time to revisit my very first post at&lt;/i&gt; Single and Sane. &lt;i&gt;I wish I hadn't wasted it on that first post, because it's one of my favorites but I think only about 5 people read it the first time around. It features a clip from an episode of &lt;u&gt;The Andy Griffith Show&lt;/u&gt; that aired nearly 50 years ago. To put it in historical context, the President of the United States at the time was John F. Kennedy. (Wow. When did that start feeling like a &lt;u&gt;really&lt;/u&gt; long time ago?)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to prove that some things are timeless, the clip below is from the 3rd season of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Andy Griffith Show, &lt;/span&gt;and originally aired in 1963. The episode is entitled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Wife for Andy&lt;/span&gt;. Barney decides it's time for Andy to settle down and get married again. About 3 minutes into this clip, Andy and Barney get into a discussion about Andy's marital status, ending with an irritated Andy telling Barney how he feels about being single. If you've reached a certain age, you have no doubt had this same discussion yourself. (As it turns out, this is also the episode where Andy and Helen have their first date. They didn't marry until the first episode of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mayberry RFD&lt;/span&gt; in 1968. Evidently the writers thought Andy was more interesting single than he would be married.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Apparently a show that's near 50 years old is not automatically public domain - the YouTube link won't work, so here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBurIl10Jmg)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lMWk0I5dbNw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lMWk0I5dbNw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's some trivia from the show. Nearly all of the characters on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Andy Griffith Show&lt;/span&gt; were single, and not young singles either. Andy was in his mid-thirties to early-forties during the run of the show and Aunt Bee was 58 when the show began. (Be honest. You thought she was older than that, didn't ya?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who was the only married character to regularly appear during the first 5 years of the show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Otis, the Town Drunk&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty funny, huh? ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back in a few days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-5500413514896187712?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/5500413514896187712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/andy-taylor-redux.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5500413514896187712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/5500413514896187712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/andy-taylor-redux.html' title='Andy Taylor, Redux'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-381986229788491923</id><published>2010-07-06T01:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T05:45:36.199-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guest post'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lady Bloggers Society'/><title type='text'>Oh, My! I Wasn't Expecting Company!</title><content type='html'>Yikes! I didn't realize my guest post would be published at &lt;a href="http://www.theladybloggers.com/archives/1660"&gt;The Lady Bloggers&lt;/a&gt; today! I would have cleaned up around here if I had realized company might stop by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I spent the weekend with family, shopped with my mom, got to see my nephew who decided to come for a visit at the last minute, went to a cookout, and cleaned house. I went into work for a couple of hours on the 4th to get some things done because I'll start my vacation later this week. I even took advantage of the long weekend to &lt;strike&gt;waste time&lt;/strike&gt; work on my new house in Yoville. I did almost everything I had planned to do this weekend &lt;i&gt;except &lt;/i&gt;straighten up my blog. Wouldn't you know it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well. Please feel free to look around, and make yourself comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in a couple of weeks, after my vacation, I'm going to fix the masthead (which was sized for another template)...and add pages...and do all the blog-related things I thought I might get to this weekend. &lt;i&gt;Sigh&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your visit, and thanks for stopping by!&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theladybloggers.com/"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1176/4722839148_c01d0c79e9_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-381986229788491923?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/381986229788491923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-my-i-wasnt-expecting-company.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/381986229788491923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/381986229788491923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-my-i-wasnt-expecting-company.html' title='Oh, My! I Wasn&apos;t Expecting Company!'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1176/4722839148_c01d0c79e9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-9106185999695575847</id><published>2010-07-05T00:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T07:13:12.348-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2 Chronicles 7:14'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confession'/><title type='text'>Prayers of Confession</title><content type='html'>Several years ago, my church had a week-long study that involved different facets of discipleship each night. The night we focused on prayer, we were divided up into groups and sent into rooms all over the church. I was in a room with probably 15 or so other people, led by a woman no one seemed to know. Her name was Yetta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yetta led us through the following acrostic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;doration&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;C&lt;/b&gt;onfession&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;T&lt;/b&gt;hanksgiving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;S&lt;/b&gt;upplication&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adoration was a breeze. We all went around the room, each of us offering a praise to God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confession, not surprisingly, was something we all chose to pass on. We're Baptist, for crying out loud. We don't generally confess in public. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we moved on to the letter "T", and went around the room again, each of use sharing something for which we were thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we shifted gears to supplication, and each of us shared a prayer concern. That was easy because we were just completing an interim that had lasted a year. Our pastor of 35 years had retired the previous spring, and although it had not been planned this way, the week-long study fell right before a prospective pastor was coming in view of a call. (Southern Baptist churches are autonomous, and we choose our own pastors, unlike denominations where pastors are assigned to churches.) Naturally, many of us had prayer requests related to the selection of our new pastor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assume everyone else thought the same thing I thought at that point - that we were pretty much done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yetta had something else in mind though. She was determined to go back to the "C" in the ACTS acrostic...&lt;i&gt;confession&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember thinking, "Surely she doesn't expect anyone in this group to confess to some sin in front of everyone else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It soon became apparent that, yes, Yetta did expect at least one of us to confess to &lt;i&gt;something&lt;/i&gt;. (I still wonder if she didn't think that once someone got the ball rolling, she could get all of us to start confessing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "You weren't raised Baptist, were ya?" I didn't have to bite it that hard, though, because I didn't want to do anything to draw attention to myself. I was already thinking of the worst sins I had ever committed, and I was fairly certain I did not have any desire to share them with the group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Yetta asked, for what seemed like the 50th time, "Doesn't anyone have something they'd like to confess?" I've never been in a room with so many people staring uncomfortably at the floor. (Actually, I feel led to confess that's a lie, but it's also a topic for an entirely different post.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TDFxpvAE44I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Rv3izgIXacw/s1600/group+graphic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="146" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TDFxpvAE44I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Rv3izgIXacw/s200/group+graphic.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=982"&gt;Image: djcodrin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was torn between looking at the floor and casting furtive glances at other people in the room, hoping someone would come up with a way to end what was starting to feel like a hostage situation. I was sitting next to one of our staff members, and as he shifted in his chair, I thought, "Thank God, he's about to rescue us. He always knows exactly the right thing to say." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, no, he remained silent. Uncharacteristically so, now that I think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, Yetta suggested that surely &lt;i&gt;someone &lt;/i&gt;had &lt;i&gt;something &lt;/i&gt;they could confess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point, I was starting to silently pray that God would hurry up and release us from Yetta's reign of terror. As I heard other people talking in the hall - people who had not been held captive - I began to consider confessing what I was thinking about Yetta at that point, but decided that probably wouldn't be the most tactful way out of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, one of the men spoke up, and said that sometimes, in the business world, he might have crossed the line into some gray areas. I'm pretty sure everyone in the room offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving as he spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't exactly earth shattering, but it was good enough for Yetta, who led a prayer for the young man and his confession, as well as all of our unspoken confessions. Then we all breathed a collective sigh of relief and made a run for the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TDFt6Ee9PUI/AAAAAAAAAhI/hIUzdkBElCs/s1600/prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TDFt6Ee9PUI/AAAAAAAAAhI/hIUzdkBElCs/s320/prayer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;But now I'm going to confess something to you. I don't like confessing to God any more than I liked the idea of confessing to Yetta and the rest of the group. It doesn't make sense since God is omniscient, and omnipresent. He knows every move I make - the things I do right, and the things that I don't. The reality is that I have the same problem that I accuse others of having. Deep down, I'm afraid that I think that God grades on a curve - and that &lt;i&gt;I &lt;/i&gt;set the curve. I see sin in the lives of other people, but in my own life, I convince myself that it's not sin. "We all have issues," I tell myself. "No one's perfect." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm alone.We live in a nation full of Christians who appear to judge non-Christians more harshly than we judge ourselves. We think words like "wicked" are too harsh for the sins we commit, but plenty good for everyone else's sins. And we're sadly mistaken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As followers of Christ, we are called by His name. We are held to a higher standard - the example that Christ set for us. Instead of judging the world, we should be looking in the mirror, examining ourselves. We should be asking God to show us the ways that we fail, and to lead us in the right ways. We should be seeking God with all of our hearts. We should be on our knees, confessing our sins to God. Like Yetta, He's patiently waiting for us to 'fess up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray  and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from  heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.&lt;/i&gt; ~ 2 Chronicles 7:14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-9106185999695575847?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/9106185999695575847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/prayers-of-confession.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/9106185999695575847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/9106185999695575847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/07/prayers-of-confession.html' title='Prayers of Confession'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TDFxpvAE44I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Rv3izgIXacw/s72-c/group+graphic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-8011523777619344278</id><published>2010-06-28T05:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:00:12.702-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hole to hell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='When Harry Met Sally'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet peeves'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='forwarding emails'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discernment'/><title type='text'>The Wagon Wheel Coffee Table of Christendom</title><content type='html'>Do you remember the scene in &lt;i&gt;When Harry Met Sally&lt;/i&gt;, where Marie and Jess pull Harry and Sally into their heated dispute over the wagon wheel coffee table? One of my favorite movie lines comes from that scene, when Marie says, "Everyone thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but&amp;nbsp; they couldn't &lt;i&gt;possibly &lt;/i&gt;all have good taste."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the Christian equivalent of that line goes like this: "Everyone thinks they have the spiritual gift of discernment and a sense of humor, but they couldn't &lt;i&gt;possibly &lt;/i&gt;all have, well, either one." (If you've watched many televangelists, you know good taste is not highly valued by evangelicals, and don't get me started on the absence of a sense of humor exhibited by too many Christians.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply put, &lt;i&gt;discernment &lt;/i&gt;is the ability to recognize truth, and no one wants to admit they might not have that ability. Our lack of discernment is much more insidious than Jess's affection for his coffee table. It's exhibited on many levels, not the least of which is mindlessly forwarding emails, the equivalent of the "stupid, wagon-wheel, Roy Rogers, garage sale coffee table," that even Harry couldn't support Jess on. (Okay, Harry's mind was on his ex-wife and Ira, but &lt;i&gt;still&lt;/i&gt;, he attacked the coffee table when Jess was hoping for some back-up.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get emails all the time from my Christian friends that leave me wondering what they're thinking. Any "you won't see this in the mainstream media" line sends them into a frenzy of forwarding because they think we're all being kept from the truth and it's their duty, as a Christian, to let the rest of us know about this conspiracy. The only problem is that if they had any sense of discernment at all, they would know they're forwarding nonsense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan Acuff tackled this issue in a post this past week, &lt;a href="http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/06/not-using-snopes-com-or-google/"&gt;Not using snopes.com or google&lt;/a&gt;. He offered a number of tips for discerning the veracity of a forwarded email. For instance, the "&lt;b&gt;Fwd&lt;/b&gt;" in the subject line should be our first clue. "If you're a Christian, you must read this," is another clue that should tell us to check it out before clicking that forward button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan also uncovered an urban legend on &lt;a href="http://snopes.com/"&gt;snopes.com&lt;/a&gt; that, to their credit, even my friends who are the most egregious in this regard have never forwarded to me. Evidently there is an urban legend that claims a &lt;a href="http://www.snopes.com/religion/wellhell.asp"&gt;hole to hell has been drilled in Siberia&lt;/a&gt;. He didn't go into it, but there are actual YouTube videos that claim to have recorded the voices of &lt;strike&gt;thousands&lt;/strike&gt; millions of voices screaming from the pit of the hole in question.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pardon my French, but WTH are people thinking when they send this stuff out? This was part of my reply to Jonathan's post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;My issue with these mindless forwards is that the story of Jesus is hard  to believe. It defies logic. It takes faith. When Christians show  ourselves to be gullible chumps who will believe absolutely anything  that is forwarded to us in an email, how can we expect anyone to take  our faith in Christ seriously? How can we expect to witness effectively  when we believe someone actually dug a hole to hell in Siberia?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm preaching to the choir since you all are clearly discerning readers. But I need to unload. Since we're half-way between Presidential election cycles, perhaps this is a good time to tell you that it's not just the alleged hole-to-hell in Siberia that makes me crazy. It's the political nonsense that my Christian friends send me during every Presidential election, things they forward without stopping to question, because it supports their political point of view. Again, that damages our witness as followers of Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same is true of Facebook. I have friends who put every viral post that comes along in their status bars, again, never questioning them because they support their point of view. I &lt;i&gt;know &lt;/i&gt;they mean well. I &lt;i&gt;know &lt;/i&gt;they believe they're speaking up for Jesus. The only problem is you can't spread a lie and speak up for Jesus at the same time. Alright, that's not the &lt;i&gt;only &lt;/i&gt;problem with forwarding without question, but you get my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel better now. Thank you for indulging my rant. You have been terribly patient to keep reading to this point. Now, to reward you for your patience, here's the wagon wheel table clip from &lt;i&gt;When Harry Met Sally&lt;/i&gt;:&amp;nbsp; Even after all these years, it still makes me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GCoKZNFftk8&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GCoKZNFftk8&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-8011523777619344278?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/8011523777619344278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/wagon-wheel-coffee-table-of-christendom.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8011523777619344278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/8011523777619344278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/wagon-wheel-coffee-table-of-christendom.html' title='The Wagon Wheel Coffee Table of Christendom'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7454363545267572349</id><published>2010-06-22T22:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T23:07:49.804-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writer&apos;s Workshop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Things I look for in a man'/><title type='text'>50 Things? Are You Kidding Me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TCE7n0_vioI/AAAAAAAAAeI/wa8JcpQ4m_c/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TCE7n0_vioI/AAAAAAAAAeI/wa8JcpQ4m_c/s200/writersworkshop.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure I would tackle another &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/06/writing-prompt-2/?utm_source=feedburner&amp;amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;amp;utm_campaign=Feed%3A+MamasLosinIt+%28Mama%27s+Losin%27+It%29"&gt;writing assignment from Mama Kat&lt;/a&gt; this week, but the very first prompt made me laugh out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;1) The Love List. Write a list of 50 things you look for in a man.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;FIFTY?&amp;nbsp; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Did I read that right? Has Mama Kat &lt;i&gt;truly &lt;/i&gt;lost it this time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the fact that over the years people have implied that I might be, um, &lt;i&gt;picky&lt;/i&gt;, never in my life did I have a list of 50 things I looked for in a man. Now I realize that with my paltry list, I have never even approached the &lt;i&gt;realm &lt;/i&gt;of &lt;i&gt;picky&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure my list was far different 25 years ago...who remembers that far back? It may have been longer, but I'm sure it was still short of 50. At this point in my life there are only a dozen or so items that I would look for, assuming I thought it was worth my time to look. With only a dozen items when I could have listed &lt;i&gt;50&lt;/i&gt;, this is really more of a &lt;i&gt;Quarter-List&lt;/i&gt;, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright. I've stalled as long as I can. Without further ado, here's the list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;1. A man who shares my faith.&lt;/span&gt; (Someone who is genuinely committed to Christ, &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; someone who says, "I consider myself a Christian but I don't buy that whole resurrection thing.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;2. A man who shares my moral values.&lt;/span&gt; (You would think sharing my faith would cover that, but alas, &lt;i&gt;not so much&lt;/i&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;3. A man who doesn't think being the leader of the family is just a trump  card from God to get his own way. &lt;/span&gt;(There seems to be a lot of that and I have to tell ya, I'm not remotely amused by it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;4. A man who treats people in service roles with respect.&lt;/span&gt; (It's true that you can judge a man's character by how he treats waitresses.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;5. A man who knows himself and is secure enough with who he is that he isn't looking for someone to constantly feed his ego.&lt;/span&gt; (Something about sapping all of the energy out of you makes a man &lt;i&gt;exceedingly &lt;/i&gt;unattractive.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6. A man with a sense of humor. &lt;/span&gt;(I think there's a direct correlation between humor and intellect.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7. A man who is old enough to have a first-hand memory of the moon landing.&lt;/span&gt; (Remember &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/01/delusions-of-courgardom.html"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Delusions of Cougardom&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8. A man who can have a conversation that doesn't revolve around himself.&lt;/span&gt; (Experience tells me that this one &lt;i&gt;might &lt;/i&gt;be asking too much.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9. If divorced, a man who is introspective enough to acknowledge his contribution to the failure of the marriage.&lt;/span&gt; (In case you're not aware of this, "It was &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;her fault," is &lt;i&gt;never &lt;/i&gt;a good sign.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;10. A man who is not a total wuss when it comes to color.&lt;/span&gt; (I've mentioned this in passing at least once before, but beige  is &lt;i&gt;not &lt;/i&gt;a color.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;11. A man who can respect my opinions, whether he always agrees with me or not.&lt;/span&gt; (It's no fun being with someone who wants to debate &lt;i&gt;all the time&lt;/i&gt;. For instance, I am never going to be a fan of Rush Limbaugh so don't waste your time - and mine - by trying to convince me to like him.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;12. A man who does not possess automatic weapons.&lt;/span&gt; (I live in a state where the legislature encourages anarchy because you never know when Bambi might rise up and try to shoot people.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it...oh, wait. There &lt;i&gt;is &lt;/i&gt;one more. &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;He would have to &lt;strike&gt;love&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;like&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;i&gt;accept &lt;/i&gt;cats.&lt;/span&gt;  (Although who wouldn't &lt;i&gt;love &lt;/i&gt;Lucy and Ethel?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TCE4Ig5gILI/AAAAAAAAAeA/hWvSb2bdfdM/s1600/Lucy++Ethel+1st+Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TCE4Ig5gILI/AAAAAAAAAeA/hWvSb2bdfdM/s400/Lucy++Ethel+1st+Pic.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;That's Ethel on the left, curled up with her sister, Lucy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record, I might be willing to compromise a &lt;i&gt;little &lt;/i&gt;on #10. The bedspread under the lavender throw in the picture above is khaki. See? That's practically beige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell, me, am I unreasonable? Am I totally unrealistic? Any major omissions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody want to share &lt;i&gt;your &lt;/i&gt;list?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7454363545267572349?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7454363545267572349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/50-things-are-you-kidding-me.html#comment-form' title='31 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7454363545267572349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7454363545267572349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/50-things-are-you-kidding-me.html' title='50 Things? Are You Kidding Me?'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TCE7n0_vioI/AAAAAAAAAeI/wa8JcpQ4m_c/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>31</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-2690693375540063609</id><published>2010-06-21T07:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T07:05:33.411-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some to Jesus, I Surrender</title><content type='html'>This morning I read an interesting &lt;a href="http://redletterbelievers.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-give-up.html?utm_source=feedburner&amp;amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;amp;utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RedLetterBelievers+%28Red+Letter+Believers%29"&gt;post over at Red Letter Believers about surrender&lt;/a&gt;. As I read the words, familiar lyrics came to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I surrender all&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I surrender all&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;All to Jesus, I surrender &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I surrender all.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reality is "I surrender &lt;i&gt;some&lt;/i&gt;." I think I can fairly say that "I surrender &lt;i&gt;most&lt;/i&gt;," but I don't surrender &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt;. I hate admitting that I wrestle with God to hang onto the control that I don't want to give up. Ironic, isn't it? I want to maintain control, even though I know in my heart that God can do it better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to surrender &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;Margaret &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"&lt;/i&gt; - Mark 9:24 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-2690693375540063609?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/2690693375540063609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/some-to-jesus-i-surrender.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2690693375540063609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/2690693375540063609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/some-to-jesus-i-surrender.html' title='Some to Jesus, I Surrender'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-332393452922773631</id><published>2010-06-19T12:15:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T22:09:13.952-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final Word on Popular Girls</title><content type='html'>The &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/curse-of-popular-girls.html"&gt;post I wrote on popular girls&lt;/a&gt; generated more comments than most of my posts receive. I wrote about the layers of popularity, and the difference between popular girls that everyone likes versus the popular girls that virtually no one really likes. Women responded to it because nearly everyone can relate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBzv5OY0GrI/AAAAAAAAAd4/MF2jxZ_n5h4/s1600/ladder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBzv5OY0GrI/AAAAAAAAAd4/MF2jxZ_n5h4/s200/ladder.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Girls, especially, deal with social pressure in high school that is almost universal. Regardless of our spot on the social ladder, dealing with insecurities is a rite of passage for most teenage girls. It's a rough time, and it often brings out the worst in us, whether we're at the top or the bottom of the ladder. There are regrets about things we said, as well as the things we &lt;i&gt;didn't&lt;/i&gt; say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of us are blessed enough to not be remembered by &lt;i&gt;everyone &lt;/i&gt;in the class. Yes, we had embarrassing moments, we had unfortunate moments, but in all likelihood, no one else remembers those awful moments as clearly as we do ourselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a little different when it comes to the popular girls on the ladder's top rung. &lt;i&gt;Everyone &lt;/i&gt;remembers them. Some (mostly guys) may have been oblivious at the time to the power this group held over the rest of the girls in the class, but &lt;i&gt;everyone &lt;/i&gt;remembers them. There are many moments that the popular girls may not remember, but that are frozen in time for the girls they hurt. We may not even remember many specifics, but we remember the feelings they generated. We remember the pain they caused our friends. We remember the attitudes that we found so offensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we forget is that a combination of time and life experience changes most people for the better. We know &lt;i&gt;we &lt;/i&gt;have changed. We see the changes in the classmates with whom we have kept in touch. We look around and are amazed at what incredible people they have become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, we assume those at the very top of the ladder are still snarky 16-year-old girls, frozen in time along with our memories of them. We don't give them credit for changing. Naturally, they sense that. So it's understandable if they tend to stick to the safety of their group at class reunions. They know they formed reputations for themselves as teenagers that are difficult to overcome as adults. So when it appears difficult for them to reach out beyond their inner circle, perhaps that's our opportunity to reach out to them. Perhaps that's the sign that it's time to forget who was popular and who wasn't and just be glad to see everyone together, remembering good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By middle-age, the power base in most classes has not just shifted, it has evaporated. The footing becomes much more equal, as the ladder has been thrown out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is as it should be. Ladders are dangerous, especially near the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have  against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Colossians 3:13 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-332393452922773631?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/332393452922773631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/final-word-on-popular-girls.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/332393452922773631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/332393452922773631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/final-word-on-popular-girls.html' title='The Final Word on Popular Girls'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBzv5OY0GrI/AAAAAAAAAd4/MF2jxZ_n5h4/s72-c/ladder.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4392627615978583617</id><published>2010-06-17T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T22:07:16.147-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='making new friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='renewing friendships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school reunions'/><title type='text'>High School Gets Better When You're Middle-Aged</title><content type='html'>My last post about &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/curse-of-popular-girls.html"&gt;the popular girls in high school&lt;/a&gt; generated a number of comments. One recurring theme in the comments was that a lot of you avoid reunions like the plague. I understand the feelings behind those comments. I worked 20-25 hours a week in high school so even if I had not been as painfully introverted as I was, I didn't have time to do much socializing. I had a handful of friends I was close to, and beyond that, I really didn't care if I ever saw the rest of my classmates again. I was &lt;i&gt;so &lt;/i&gt;done with the class as a whole that I didn't even go to graduation, opting instead to visit family in Chicago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout my 20s, I ran into classmates from time to time, and I discovered something. &lt;i&gt;It wasn't awful&lt;/i&gt;. I had one of those encounters 9 years after graduation and this particular classmate mentioned that a group was getting together to start planning the 10-year-reunion and she wondered if I'd like to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I looked at her with a frozen smile but I don't remember if any words came out of my mouth. She was one of those student government types who was also into speech and debate and was &lt;i&gt;very &lt;/i&gt;persuasive, so whether or not I responded verbally, &lt;i&gt;somehow &lt;/i&gt;I wound up committed to showing up for the first reunion meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There turned out to be a &lt;i&gt;very &lt;/i&gt;big group interested in helping with that reunion. Despite my lack of involvement in high school, I knew a lot of them. It wasn't as painful as I had expected. It was actually okay but I was still introverted by nature and it occurred to me during that meeting that if I didn't have a job at the reunion - a reason why I &lt;i&gt;had &lt;/i&gt;to be there - I wouldn't show up. And there &lt;i&gt;were &lt;/i&gt;a handful of people I wanted to see so I decided I would commit to helping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our high school was unique in the community. One building housed both a junior high and a high school so many of us had spent 6 years together, from 7th to 12 grades. There were others who had come from feeder schools in the 10th grade. Even though we hadn't all known each other well, there were countless shared memories. During the year that we worked on planning that reunion, I began to realize the power of those common memories, and how strong a bond they can create. At the same time, we were creating new memories together, memories that would strengthen that bond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBrhEKkLDII/AAAAAAAAAdw/nKVK0ciWsaQ/s1600/romy+and+micheles+hs+reunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBrhEKkLDII/AAAAAAAAAdw/nKVK0ciWsaQ/s320/romy+and+micheles+hs+reunion.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The reunion came, and it was a typical 10-year-reunion. Most of us (probably &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;of us) reverted to our high school roles. In many ways, it was every horrible thing that people dread about a 10-year reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for one thing. I had made a friend in kindergarten and we had remained friends even when I moved away in the 4th grade. We wrote letters back and forth, and I would spend a night or two at her house whenever we came back to visit family. When we moved back in the 6th grade, she and I picked up where we had left off and remained close friends until the 9th grade. Sometime during late winter or spring of 9th grade, we got into a fight in gym. She said things, I said worse things, and before we knew it, there was a rift in our friendship that we could not overcome. We talked politely if we ran into each other after that, but we were no longer friends in high school. We had turned into &lt;i&gt;former &lt;/i&gt;friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That changed when we saw each other at the 10-year-reunion. The fight we had in 9th grade was forgotten and for the second time in our lives, we picked up where we had left off. By then, she had moved away, but we have kept in touch ever since. When her father died several years later, I was grateful to be able to attend his service and see her family. A few years ago, when 2 separate hurricanes made landfall within a few weeks of one another in the town where she lives, I tracked her brother down at his mountain cabin to find out if she and her family were alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is one of my few adult friends who knew my dad, so the first day I was back at work after he died 6 years ago, I cried when I saw an email pop up from her. She had not known my dad was sick - it was just a forwarded email - and yet, coming from her that morning struck me as a God-thing. I emailed her back and told her my dad had passed away and she was able to respond in a way that no one else could have. If either of us had stayed away from that 10-year reunion, that would not have happened. We'd still be former friends who had lost track of each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say each reunion gets better, and in my experience, that's absolutely true. As anti-social as I was in high school, I have renewed acquaintances and strengthened friendships at every reunion. I continue to work on the committees, because I'm still an introvert who needs a reason to &lt;i&gt;have &lt;/i&gt;to show up, but I truly enjoy each reunion more than the one before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true that people revert to their high school roles at the 10-year reunion. It's much less so at the 20-year, and by the 30-year, walls are starting to fall as people are just happy to see each other. They say that by 40-year reunions, the walls are pretty much forgotten. I believe them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been 3 years since our last reunion. Facebook has become a catalyst for drawing us together that we never had before. We are able to keep up with each other, connect with new friends, and find common ground that we never knew existed. I send Farmville gifts to friends whose names I long ago thought had  become a permanent part of my past. I find some classmates I agree with politically, others who have the same taste in music, and still others who encourage me with the scripture they post on their walls. I see the news of their families, and I rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn. I see 51-year-old faces on profiles while memories of 15-year-old kids fill my head. Classmates I had not known well all those years ago have become my strongest supporters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it from someone who did nothing social in high school. If you want to stay away from your reunions, then that's your choice But recognize that you might be missing out on one of life's greatest blessings...making new friends who will encourage you, and connecting with old friends who matter more to you than you ever knew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-4392627615978583617?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/4392627615978583617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/high-school-gets-better-when-youre.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4392627615978583617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/4392627615978583617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/high-school-gets-better-when-youre.html' title='High School Gets Better When You&apos;re Middle-Aged'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBrhEKkLDII/AAAAAAAAAdw/nKVK0ciWsaQ/s72-c/romy+and+micheles+hs+reunion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1266494306505370416</id><published>2010-06-16T22:00:00.038-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T22:00:02.934-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writer&apos;s Workshop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='popular girls'/><title type='text'>The Curse of the Popular Girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBgGrDKj3YI/AAAAAAAAAdo/NVAXwg0PxQI/s1600/writersworkshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBgGrDKj3YI/AAAAAAAAAdo/NVAXwg0PxQI/s320/writersworkshop.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for another one of &lt;a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/06/writin/"&gt;Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop&lt;/a&gt; prompts. It's a topic I have considered writing about before but I always talked myself out of it. There are popular girls to contend with throughout our lives, but it's those popular girls from high school who leave the most lasting impression, and for some, the deepest scars. The thing that has stopped me from tackling this subject up until now is that I still live in the same city where I went to high school, and while my blog may &lt;i&gt;look &lt;/i&gt;anonymous, it's not to the readers who know me. I could tell you this post is merely a general observation and any similarity to actual persons or groups is purely coincidental but I don't think &lt;i&gt;anyone &lt;/i&gt;would believe me. However since this was a topic I had considered - &lt;i&gt;over and over again&lt;/i&gt; - I decided that perhaps the prompt from Mama Kat was a sign that I should just go with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, high school was a long time ago, but has it been long &lt;i&gt;enough&lt;/i&gt;? (Hmmm, I wonder if this could be my ticket off of the reunion committee.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Popular &lt;/i&gt;is an interesting term that we throw around when we're young. According to &lt;a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/netdict/popular"&gt;Merriam-Webster&lt;/a&gt;, one of the definitions is "commonly liked or approved." That's not what it meant when I was in high school. As a friend recently described it, the true meaning of the word in high school is "&lt;i&gt;the girls nobody likes but everybody wants to be friends with them anyway&lt;/i&gt;." Going with that definition, one of the greatest ironies about the "popular" girls from high school was the mind-boggling speed with which they lost their brand of popularity after graduation. These girls didn't seem to notice that they have lost what passed for popularity right away. It was a gradual process, taking place over decades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Before I get too much further into it, here is my disclaimer&lt;/i&gt;: I was so far down on the social ladder that it took decades for me to realize that there were rungs on the ladder, so my perspective on the popular girls is viewed from that angle. I always understood that I was closer to the bottom of the ladder and that these other girls were at the very top but I thought there were&lt;i&gt; a lot more&lt;/i&gt; girls at the top than was actually the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, there was a hierarchy to popularity that I totally missed at the time. Naturally, the "popular" girls were at the very top of the &lt;strike&gt;food chain&lt;/strike&gt; ladder . The term we used for them back then was &lt;i&gt;socs&lt;/i&gt;. (For those who are younger and who have never read - or seen - &lt;a href="http://www.theoutsidersbookandmovie.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Outsiders&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, it's pronounced &lt;i&gt;so-shez, &lt;/i&gt;with a long o.) We'll call them the &lt;i&gt;Inner Circle&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I still don't understand how they achieved their place on the ladder's top rung, but it seemed to be a mostly self-appointed position. I think they were all cheerleaders, but all of the cheerleaders were not part of the Inner Circle. When we were in our 20s, one friend shared her theory about what they looked for before allowing anyone a position in the group. Her theory was that they were all members of the same country club. Make that &lt;i&gt;The Country Club&lt;/i&gt; - none of the other clubs could compare. I actually kind of liked her theory because it meant the Inner Circle had a clear litmus test. Either you belonged to The Country Club or you didn't. It's not like they were relying on subjective things like &lt;i&gt;personality&lt;/i&gt;, or &lt;i&gt;clothes&lt;/i&gt;, or heaven forbid, &lt;i&gt;intellect&lt;/i&gt;. No, if my friend's theory was correct, it wasn't &lt;i&gt;personal&lt;/i&gt;. It was more like a &lt;i&gt;marketing &lt;/i&gt;decision. They were protecting their brand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I didn't realize for many years was that the Inner Circle of socs was &lt;i&gt;quite &lt;/i&gt;small - just a handful of girls - which may support my friend's "Country Club" theory. Beyond that, there was a small peripheral group. There were constant changes in the peripheral group as girls gained and lost favor with the Inner Circle. No one outside the Inner Circle could be expected to keep track of who was in, and who was out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond that peripheral group was a group that was &lt;i&gt;genuinely &lt;/i&gt;popular, in that everyone pretty much liked them. Like the Inner Circle, they included a number of cheerleaders in their mix so they looked a lot like the Inner Circle, but they were not a group of girls anyone would associate with the term &lt;i&gt;mean &lt;/i&gt;girls. These &lt;i&gt;truly &lt;/i&gt;popular girls greeted everyone with a smile. They knew a lot of our names, no small feat in a class of nearly 500. From my rung near the floor, I assumed they were part of the Inner Circle - they were just the &lt;i&gt;nice ones&lt;/i&gt;. I was nearly 30 before I figured out they weren't just &lt;i&gt;the nice ones&lt;/i&gt; - they were a &lt;i&gt;different group entirely&lt;/i&gt;, located higher than my most of my friends and I were on the social ladder, but not dangerously close to the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to realize how small the Inner Circle really was at our 10-year reunion, when they could be seated at a table for 10, including the spouses of those who were married.&amp;nbsp; This was when I began to see the layers of socdom that I had never known existed. (Pronounced sosh-dom, I don't know if such a word actually exists but I like it  and people instinctively understand the meaning.) It opened my eyes to the difference between the popular group that &lt;i&gt;nearly nobody &lt;/i&gt;really liked and the popular group that&lt;i&gt; nearly everybody&lt;/i&gt; really liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the 20-year reunion, enough socs were married at the same time that some of the spouses were sent to other tables, but the Inner Circle could still be seated together. There were a couple of shout-outs to the "A" clique in the reunion directory that year, which was the first time a number of us learned that this was how they referred to themselves. The fact they chose to go by a name that insulted the rest of the class seemed to fit. On the plus side, one member of the Inner Circle used the directory to offer an apology for how bad the social cliques had been. I admired her for that, and began to wonder if perhaps there was hope for the Inner Circle, after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years before our 30-year reunion, &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0377092/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mean Girls&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt; came out and there was no doubt in my own mind that most of my class pictured the Inner Circle every time we heard the title. And this was when I began to wonder what it's like to be saddled for decades with a reputation from 3 years of high school that is so difficult to overcome. Did they realize their faces filled many of our heads whenever we heard Tina Fey promote &lt;i&gt;Mean Girls&lt;/i&gt;? Even as I was starting to feel (a little bit) sorry for them, I often wondered aloud why they bothered to come to reunions at all since at the first two reunions, they had still stuck mostly to their A-clique friends. Wouldn't it be easier to just meet at a restaurant and forget the rest of us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But by the time the 30-year reunion weekend came around, I was starting to think maybe I had never given the Inner Circle enough credit for the courage it must take to face people who don't have a lot of respect for the way they treated the rest of the class in high school. As I watched them at that reunion, I saw that they were trying harder than they ever had before. They were making an effort to talk to more people. It didn't always look like it came naturally, but that made me respect the effort that much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the bad press from the A-clique references in the previous reunion directory, I had joked that they needed a PR consultant to fix their image. But the truth is that time and maturity go a long way towards changing people. They're not there yet. They still struggle to venture away from the safety of the Inner Circle. But after 30+ years, &lt;i&gt;they're trying&lt;/i&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent years, I have come to realize that their exclusivity must have put the Inner Circle at a disadvantage in the real world. The rest of us learned early on that the top rung of the ladder is neither the safest nor the most desirable place to be. It was on the lower rungs that we made the friends who can be relied upon to support us wherever life takes us. And it was from those lower rungs that we learned not to be bothered so much by the older versions of popular girl cliques, &lt;i&gt;wherever &lt;/i&gt;we find them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Margaret&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1266494306505370416?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1266494306505370416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/curse-of-popular-girls.html#comment-form' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1266494306505370416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1266494306505370416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/curse-of-popular-girls.html' title='The Curse of the Popular Girls'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBgGrDKj3YI/AAAAAAAAAdo/NVAXwg0PxQI/s72-c/writersworkshop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-7328380906169632949</id><published>2010-06-14T21:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T22:15:27.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Forgotten Word: Sacrifice</title><content type='html'>When I was growing up, World War II always struck me as being part of the &lt;i&gt;far &lt;/i&gt;distant past. Somewhere along the way, I did the math and realized that the war had been over less than 14 years when I was born. It's hard to believe that I ever thought 14 years was a long time. For crying out loud, 1996 was 14 years ago. That was like, what, &lt;i&gt;yesterday?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents talked about the war, but since parents nearly always seem ancient to their  children, I didn't really&amp;nbsp; relate to the stories. Of course my mom talked about the war much more than my dad. My dad served in England during the war, and his brothers and brothers-in-law all served, as well. My dad mentioned his service from time to time when it was relevant, but like most men who served, the times that he voluntarily brought the war up in conversation were few and far between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBbY-_qEWRI/AAAAAAAAAdg/TdnodlRGA_s/s1600/RationingBook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBbY-_qEWRI/AAAAAAAAAdg/TdnodlRGA_s/s320/RationingBook.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When my mom talked about the war, she often told stories about the things everyone had to do without due to &lt;a href="http://www.ameshistoricalsociety.org/exhibits/events/rationing.htm"&gt;rationing&lt;/a&gt;. She told stories of women drawing lines on the back of their legs to look like the nylons they could not buy. She talked about enrolling in college at a time when many women went to school to find a husband, and upon arrival, discovering that nearly all the men had left to serve in the war. Her first cousin was still enrolled at that point but naturally, he didn't count. Later she went to work at the U.S. Army Command in Fort Worth after she discovered the employees there could buy chocolate candy bars. But all things considered, I think my mom's &lt;i&gt;greatest &lt;/i&gt;war sacrifice was shoes. Sixty years later, she &lt;i&gt;still &lt;/i&gt;isn't over that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sacrifices didn't end as soon as the soldiers came home. Mom told stories about how it took awhile for factories to gear back up for consumer goods after the war ended, and between the Great Depression and the war, there was pent up demand for things like cars, causing rifts in families where relatives were competing for the few cars that were available. Some of those rifts hadn't entirely healed by the time I was born - &lt;i&gt;not that we were related to any of those people....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course for Boomers, lives that were cushy by our parents' standards were still pretty spartan compared to today's. It's not unusual, when I'm with a group of friends my age and older, for us to talk about growing up with attic fans to cool the house at night, and sleeping on sheets that were hung outside to dry. People didn't expect as much as we do now. The Christmas I was 14, there was an oil embargo that led President Nixon to ask Americans to do without outside Christmas lights. For the most part, people complied. He lowered the maximum speed limit on interstates from 75 to 55. The response to that was, um, mixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When President Carter took office, reliance on foreign oil was becoming more of an issue, with long gas lines in major cities. To help cut the energy demand, Carter asked us to lower our thermostats to 68 degrees in the winter and raise them to 78 degrees in the summer. For the most part, people refused. That's the last time I remember a president asking us to make any  sacrifices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About that time, someone in Texas sent us a 45 rpm single called, "&lt;a href="http://www.themadmusicarchive.com/song_details.aspx?SongID=3880"&gt;Freeze a Yankee&lt;/a&gt;." The chorus went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Verdana8" style="background-color: Transparent;"&gt;Freeze A  Yankee, &lt;br /&gt;drive 75 and freeze them alive&lt;br /&gt;Freeze a Yankee, &lt;br /&gt;Let  your thermostat rise and give them a surprise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was &lt;i&gt;not &lt;/i&gt;one of our finest periods. Unfortunately, we haven't improved much in the years since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our reliance on foreign oil has only increased. We have domestic oil spewing into the Gulf of Mexico, wiping out fishing and hospitality industries along the coast. We have resisted efforts to get serious about clean energy in this country, because it's hard. It will cost money. We don't want to change our way of life. But the mess in the Gulf needs to change our way of life. If it doesn't, then what was it for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still think we have to continue drilling because we have never developed a Plan B. At the same time, we cannot wait any longer to get Plan B together. It's time to get serious about developing alternative energy sources. It's time to get serious about clean energy. It's time to start making sacrifices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;b&gt;Margaret&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-7328380906169632949?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/7328380906169632949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/forgotten-word-sacrifice.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7328380906169632949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/7328380906169632949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/forgotten-word-sacrifice.html' title='A Forgotten Word: Sacrifice'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBbY-_qEWRI/AAAAAAAAAdg/TdnodlRGA_s/s72-c/RationingBook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-1991656556560140855</id><published>2010-06-13T16:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T16:00:01.831-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mary and Martha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Proverbs 31'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quest for perfection'/><title type='text'>Hi, My Name is Margaret, But You Can Call Me Martha</title><content type='html'>I love that one of Jesus' favorite places seems to have been the home of a couple of sisters from Bethany. We don't know if their brother, Lazarus, lived there as well, but it appears that Martha and Mary shared the house and that they were both single. There is no clearer person in the New Testament to whom I can personally relate than Martha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Martha, I am task-oriented. Like Martha, I am often irritated when I feel like I'm doing the tasks from which everyone else benefits but for which no one else is willing to do the work. Like Martha, I often turn to Jesus and tell him exactly what I'm thinking. Like Martha, I often ask him why he couldn't do this or that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, deep down, I have always thought that Martha gets a bum rap. She had guests to feed. What woman, other than her sister Mary, would ignore the physical needs of her guests? &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;If Jesus had not chastised Martha himself, I'd think we were making too much of her request for help. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But he &lt;i&gt;did &lt;/i&gt;chastise Martha, and as a result, I have to confront those Martha-tendencies in myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The irony here, is that I think Martha was doing her best to be a Proverbs 31 kind of woman...the same woman I went after in &lt;a href="http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-im-not-fan-of-proverbs-31-woman.html"&gt;my last post&lt;/a&gt;. I see Martha as the flip (single) side of the same task-oriented coin on which the Proverbs 31 woman represents married women. I'm sure Martha was up before dawn and that she worked late into the night to provide for herself and her younger sister, Mary. (Clearly, Mary wasn't any help at all.) She didn't have servants or there would have been no need for her to ask for Mary's help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure Martha feared the Lord. Aside from marital status, the main difference between Martha and the woman King Lemuel's mom told him about is that &lt;u&gt;Martha puts a human face on the desire to do it all, and to do it all perfectly&lt;/u&gt;. But we haven't built a cottage industry on teaching women to become like Martha. We don't push the boundaries of idolatry with Martha. Instead of looking &lt;i&gt;up &lt;/i&gt;to Martha, we look &lt;i&gt;down &lt;/i&gt;on her. We don't look down on her because she was single or because she was childless. &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;We look down on Martha because Jesus told her that her priorities, noble as they were, were misplaced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does Jesus respond to her focus on her tasks? In a nutshell, he tells her that it's not possible to do everything. He tells her she will have to make choices, and that those tasks on which she has placed so much importance are not as important as relationships...particularly a relationship with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The section about Jesus' visit to the home in Luke 10 begins by telling us that "Martha opened her home to him." I don't know how many people Jesus had with traveling with him, but I imagine it might have included all 12 disciples, and possibly others who tagged along. Opening her home to Jesus was a big deal. It meant a lot of preparation. It meant feeding her guests. (Did they have potluck dinners then?) Hospitality was a top priority in her culture and Martha was just trying to  do everything she could to make sure everything was perfect for her  guests. She must have worked very hard to have enough food  to feed such a large group. She took the responsibilities of a hostess very seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fully understand Martha's attention to the task at hand. If she didn't do it, who would? I can picture her in the kitchen, slamming things down and wondering if Mary would ever take the hint to come help. Sure, Jesus had fed thousands from a few loaves and fishes, &lt;i&gt;but Martha couldn't very well ask a guest if he was planning to whip up dinner, could she?&lt;/i&gt; As Mary sat at the feet of Jesus oblivious to the bad vibes coming from the kitchen, did Jesus hear the sounds and know what Mary was thinking? I'm going with "yes" on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBUk2-RHYrI/AAAAAAAAAdY/x-3Q2QdDwD8/s1600/Mary+and+Martha.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBUk2-RHYrI/AAAAAAAAAdY/x-3Q2QdDwD8/s400/Mary+and+Martha.jpeg" width="312" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Perhaps because of my affinity with Martha, this story has always felt like Jesus is talking directly to me. I have often wondered if there was more to the conversation in Luke 10 than was  recorded. When Martha interrupted Jesus to ask him to tell Mary to help, did Jesus ask Martha why she was so focused on food preparation? It would have been like him to remind her of previous miracles...did he in this instance? Would she have mumbled something in response about trying to be like the Proverbs 31 woman? Or do the words that were recorded reflect everything that Jesus said to Martha on the subject? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did Martha have an "aha" moment and join Mary at Jesus' feet, or did she just turn around and go back into the kitchen to finish dinner, no doubt feeling rather embarrassed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't know.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do know that in her quest to be the perfect hostess, she created an awkward moment for her guests. We know that she put the guest of honor on the spot, asking him to mediate a case of sibling rivalry. We know that her quest to do everything - &lt;i&gt;and to do it perfectly &lt;/i&gt;- left her frazzled, angry, and perhaps a shade bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also know that she softened after that event, while still maintaining her frank demeanor. Along with Mary, Martha continued to have a close relationship with Jesus. When the sisters' brother, Lazarus died, both sisters greeted Jesus with the same phrase, "&lt;i&gt;Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died.&lt;/i&gt;" Mary fell at His feet before uttering the phrase. Ever the task-oriented woman, Martha spoke to Jesus standing up, and made it a point to assure Jesus that she knew that God would give him whatever he asked. With my Baptist sensibility and restraint, I relate more to Martha. But it was the emotional plea of Mary that he responded to, filling with emotion himself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we see Martha is at a dinner before Passover, when Mary poured perfume on Jesus' feet and wiped his feet with her hair, the symbolic preparation of his body for burial. Martha served, in silence, finally learning to accept that we are all equipped in different ways. She was gifted to serve. Again, I can relate. I wonder if Martha, like Mary, understood the prophecy that was about to be played out. Did she recognize the full significance of the evening? Was she so filled with emotion that she turned to her tasks, to keep from showing her grief at the thought of what was to come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Holy Spirit had not yet inhabited followers of Christ, but Martha had learned the fruit of the Spirit directly from Jesus: &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, goodness, gentleness and self-control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; We don't need to try to be the Proverbs 31 woman when we bear &lt;i&gt;that &lt;/i&gt;kind of fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strike style="color: purple;"&gt;Martha&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt; Margaret &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6658367767843980800-1991656556560140855?l=singleandsane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/feeds/1991656556560140855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/hi-my-name-is-margaret-but-you-can-call.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1991656556560140855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6658367767843980800/posts/default/1991656556560140855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singleandsane.blogspot.com/2010/06/hi-my-name-is-margaret-but-you-can-call.html' title='Hi, My Name is Margaret, But You Can Call Me Martha'/><author><name>Single and Sane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01088040256596780195</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/S8DgcOQ7zFI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xvYNiNnLAvI/S220/ANP50108.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_loPzLgavSaI/TBUk2-RHYrI/AAAAAAAAAdY/x-3Q2QdDwD8/s72-c/Mary+and+Martha.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6658367767843980800.post-4524778105577327855</id><published>2010-06-12T06:00:00.032-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T06:00:00.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear of the Lord'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Proverbs 31'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='expectations'/><title type='text'>Why I'm Not a Fan of the Proverbs 31 Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know for some of you, this post is going to be tantamount to heresy, so I hope the title served as a sufficient warning. There's no sense in beating around the bush, so let's jump right into my heretical thoughts on Proverbs 31.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'd be lying if I told you that I think actually becoming the Proverbs 31 woman is an attainable goal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For. anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Now if your mother is (or was) the Proverbs 31 woman, then accept my apology. If you are married to the Proverbs 31 woman, then clearly, I'm wrong about this. She &lt;/i&gt;must &lt;i&gt;exist. So you can stop reading right now and go back to the Proverbs 31 woman in your life. If you &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;are the Proverbs 31 woman, then you have my full admiration, and I'm sure you have lots of work you need to be back to, so don't let us keep you. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Shhhhh&lt;/i&gt;. Are the Proverbs 31 devotees gone now? No, I think their computers might be a little slow to close this screen due to all of the multi-tasking that they do. Let's give them just another second...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, for those who are still reading, I admit the Proverbs 31 woman has many, many, wonderful qualities. And that's what baffles me. How can any &lt;i&gt;one &lt;/i&gt;woman fit &lt;i&gt;all &lt;/i&gt;of that criteria? The whole concept looks great on paper, but holy cow, it would take a whole stinking village to do all that she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps we should start with the chapter's author. Proverbs 31:1 attributes the writing to King Lemuel, who was sharing the lessons of his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought when reading that is, "His &lt;i&gt;mother&lt;/i&gt;? There we go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second thought is, "Who the heck is King Lemuel?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer to that is &lt;i&gt;nobody knows for sure&lt;/i&gt;. He is not listed among the kings of Israel. Some say th
