tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39393819756600077352024-03-14T11:16:18.945-07:00Cultivated GraftingsCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-13655395996358957522020-12-22T14:28:00.000-08:002020-12-22T14:28:47.315-08:00Christmas Grit<div class="separator"></div><div class="separator"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvoKsogvrW0rGsP6PyBW_WKkECIAtS5mg9s42tL3DRBKobUtia4yPlvy_Hy8UT6gVoBUtzpRNs0juv-0t5G6k7kONSiXZ89nkI_89oCKWbBGgicVLnBHGtkH6EPb2y-iJQ0UxxDn83dk/s2048/IMG_1882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvoKsogvrW0rGsP6PyBW_WKkECIAtS5mg9s42tL3DRBKobUtia4yPlvy_Hy8UT6gVoBUtzpRNs0juv-0t5G6k7kONSiXZ89nkI_89oCKWbBGgicVLnBHGtkH6EPb2y-iJQ0UxxDn83dk/w400-h300/IMG_1882.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">A holy hush spills over the room. A solitary candle illuminates the figure of Mary on the donkey, large with child, making her way toward meager accommodations. Eyes shine with the reflected flame.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then, the preschooler tries cutting fire with safety scissors, at least one child gets up for a snack, cereal grit mars the Insta-worthy Advent photo…and it took two minutes of listening to the Advent devotional song to realize it was sung in English, not Latin.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s a tough thing to soldier on sometimes. Oh sure, sometimes it wells up in us with a fit of inspiration and an (un)healthy dose of comparisons on the side. Because we do that, don’t we? We cram ourselves into a mold we were never designed to occupy. To add insult to injury, we then berate ourselves for the ill-fitting mold chaffing our souls.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I’m not an Elf-on-the-Shelf, bake-All-The-Things kind of mom. We have a Shepherd on the Search…who we have never named…and who gets hidden all over God’s creation by whomever happens to find him first. We adore him, but this daily moving and creating magical scenarios is not my jam. Our nameless shepherd got the raw end of the deal when he entered our lives. Sorry, little fella.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />In fact, any daily “thing” proves a challenge for our family. Can I get an “Amen?” The days are unpredictable, and more often than not, something goes a little sideways. Nevertheless, good intentions continue to pave the way.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzO-5juyCPUCYuLOL-RMxXwMZp_Sv-sBEnNX4UMxZld0AtoAPtF-HMqIAVexKOie2cKNdvfBst6Nxp6jwXa_Qvbar2BTEf_gzG1vFa2O_az0_AUQVYaqPBiYyjKIPrRmmObhoP4GcEZg/s2048/IMG_E1895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1692" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzO-5juyCPUCYuLOL-RMxXwMZp_Sv-sBEnNX4UMxZld0AtoAPtF-HMqIAVexKOie2cKNdvfBst6Nxp6jwXa_Qvbar2BTEf_gzG1vFa2O_az0_AUQVYaqPBiYyjKIPrRmmObhoP4GcEZg/s320/IMG_E1895.JPG" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Which is why I finally bought an Advent wreath I’ve been eyeing for a gazillion years. Makes sense, amiright? <i>Has trouble sticking to daily plans…purchases expensive daily wreath. BRILLIANT. </i>It arrived. I opened it reverently and packed it back up until its appointed inauguration. I ordered candles to fit the wreath. And forgot Advent began on November 28<sup><span style="vertical-align: super;">th</span></sup> this year. We were behind before we had even begun. The all-natural, golden beeswax candles were delayed in shipping. No problem. Jesus had a manger for a bassinet. We can make do. On December 2<sup><span style="vertical-align: super;">nd</span></sup>, I plunked a boring white tealight candle on the wreath and slogged through an Advent devotion I Googled right before summoning the children. <i>Friends, learn from my folly.</i> We disbanded after an awkward attempt at enthusiasm and I sat staring at that obnoxious silver candle. It didn’t fit. It wasn’t pretty. And the devotion was <i>bleh</i>.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">God has a way of chiming in when we are ten shades of <i>bleh</i>. As I checked my email after staring down that horrid non-Adventy candle, a dear friend had sent a delightful Advent study to me. It combined artwork, poetry, scripture, music, and a devotional. In short, it was the thing missing in the equation (besides the dern candle). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s been a beautiful thing to gather amongst the cereal crumbs, interruptions, and miscellaneous craft projects (I’m looking at you, pile of highly flammable paper snowflakes). The beauty isn’t found in the perfect devotional or the perfect table setting. It’s not in beeswax candles or even in the spendy wreath. True worth is in the gathering. God’s people, now more than ever, huddle around intimate tables, grit and all. Jesus is folding His people toward tables and pews and halfway houses. He is stirring the heart of His Church.<span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_PAPd-uE4OySsGkCa8WpHDMd2JQVQ3Ix9rC2JxSfh0KXoywx33VRGEfwFqXv9iiUY5iYBMPDY4RHDdOWHmIIcksj3EwV3NLg3kDoSUS20p8vLqFR2flDLi8VAlEwO7t873AI4R-spqE/s2048/IMG_1887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_PAPd-uE4OySsGkCa8WpHDMd2JQVQ3Ix9rC2JxSfh0KXoywx33VRGEfwFqXv9iiUY5iYBMPDY4RHDdOWHmIIcksj3EwV3NLg3kDoSUS20p8vLqFR2flDLi8VAlEwO7t873AI4R-spqE/s320/IMG_1887.JPG" width="320" /></a>This Advent season has all the earmarks of being <i>bleh</i>. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ongoing pandemic? Check! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Explosive politics? Check! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Strained budgets? Check! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fill in the blank…check, check, check! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We’re stretched to the breaking point.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then God.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He pulls you and I into the grit of Christmas. We rub elbows with the nativity story and wonder anew at the simplicity and intricacy of the Christ Child’s humble beginnings. And it’s really the only mold we’re designed to fill.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">With a week left in Advent, I just discovered my beloved beeswax candle order was canceled weeks ago. Apparently, it pays to check emails from Amazon. Who knew? A fresh set have been ordered and are due to arrive January 4<sup><span style="vertical-align: super;">th</span></sup>…in plenty of time for the Lenten season.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzs9BQ5MupSptWfz8lr2_NwIyFrgeD9U4QtCCacMvaz8WI9XlmXclvOeIS0qoDOCGp06UXNE0pjvFCaO3sXbAPVFwfFPaeGt_IxD8IELM22aoimlQcSXgLM6fV0Ox3NGD_fwsIl9jBnY/s2048/IMG_1898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzs9BQ5MupSptWfz8lr2_NwIyFrgeD9U4QtCCacMvaz8WI9XlmXclvOeIS0qoDOCGp06UXNE0pjvFCaO3sXbAPVFwfFPaeGt_IxD8IELM22aoimlQcSXgLM6fV0Ox3NGD_fwsIl9jBnY/s320/IMG_1898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Blessings,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cynthia</div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-28625985347240683722020-08-10T16:44:00.003-07:002020-08-10T16:50:13.462-07:00In the Shadow of the Tree<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKXFL-S7bWIWHSx7m8Gnx2_cXv1Gj2Q4ilnBSaU8tLLYho-jtRAPAFCMUg3BMXjK45iJqcsXYOiF08ylafPvNCpHmDlGmUGtant7adAyAc26C6eEgUpiBWxwnSjsXJ_19fk3CJxHJT7M/s2048/Palo+Verde+Tree.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKXFL-S7bWIWHSx7m8Gnx2_cXv1Gj2Q4ilnBSaU8tLLYho-jtRAPAFCMUg3BMXjK45iJqcsXYOiF08ylafPvNCpHmDlGmUGtant7adAyAc26C6eEgUpiBWxwnSjsXJ_19fk3CJxHJT7M/w400-h300/Palo+Verde+Tree.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: times;">The one who lives under the protection of the Most High dwells in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"> Psalm 91:1-2</span></p></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"> The palo verde tree is the kitchen of our backyard; it’s the gathering place. Everyone gravitates toward it for shelter, community, and nourishment. Spiritual nourishment is the goal, but typically, a cereal bowl (or two) wind up attracting ants. <i>Highly spiritual.</i> Camping chairs straddle the tree’s meandering roots, dodging ground squirrel sinkholes. We aren’t fancy people with actual patio furniture. Swings grace two sturdy limbs. Bicycles topple like dominoes. Goats nibble as far as their lips can possibly stretch, and boy howdy can they stretch. And here I sit, idly taking it all in from the shade of its vast branches. We can call it, “relaxed parenting,” but I remain seated not because of any parenting ideals. I just don’t want to lecture someone while the sun is dehydrating me with each passing second. It’s hotter than blazes, my friends, and I don't drink enough electrolytes for that nonsense. I’d much rather pop a question off from my chair than follow the offender to a place in the heat. I call this, “parenting smarter, not harder.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span>Heard often from me as someone starts off on an expedition is the phrase, “eyes and ears.” In the desert we have all manner of exciting surprises. It’s the world’s worst jack-in-the-box. <i>“All around the creosote bush the rabbit chased the lizard...dadun-dadun-danununudun…POP goes a rattle snake!”</i> Whee! Fun times. Eyes. And. Ears.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span>Another common phrase uttered to the toddler is, “Stay in the shadow of the tree.” In the mornings, the shadows stretch across night-cooled sand. The aforementioned toddler prefers to explore sans shoes, running heedless of danger. The shadow of the tree falls on level ground with no obstructions to my view. It’s her designated zone of relative safety. Some days she’s content to abide within the boundary. Other days, the reminders roll out like red carpet for the queen. On one such red-carpet day, she bounded over to me with the assurance, “Don’t worry, Mama. I’m going to stay in the shadow of the tree.” There was something strikingly whimsical about hearing those words from her mouth. That's when the impact skittered across my mind. Like a skipping stone, the truth rippled.</span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: times;">Stay in My shadow, beloved.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span>My toes stray to the edge, the fiery heat glowing at my soles…or maybe soul…? Abiding in the shadow of the Most High chafes against my sinful pride. My flesh seeks that which is outside His dwelling. Yet, His is not a darkened shadow; on the contrary, His shadow is ironically indwelt by the Father of lights, filled with every generous act and perfect gift (James 1:17). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span>The clock ticks and the shadows shorten. The toddler’s shadowy bounds are ever-changing, and there’s absolutely nothing to deter danger from breaching its borders (well, except perhaps the dull roar of children). Not so with Him in Whom there is no variation. His shadow is always and irrevocably anchored. To abide in Him is to be held with steadfast love. <i>Love for you. </i>He becomes your eyes and ears. And ain't nothin' breaching that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Tucking In,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Cynthia</span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-65707877405294501892020-08-03T23:13:00.000-07:002020-08-03T23:13:21.421-07:00Sour Lessons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBN4bM9IPfd6fJ-mewbUyOMgBPfsVfqeYgNiowLdQA_TsO868LNBLtXwwRyi4WhvzwSG5pT3batOyh-QRF2X0jTqHb4o8Qjjx4T3ddH-SdESf3O42klp-nWGelfCc603GlNXB1Z3ZS4w/s2048/IMG_0297+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Calibri; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBN4bM9IPfd6fJ-mewbUyOMgBPfsVfqeYgNiowLdQA_TsO868LNBLtXwwRyi4WhvzwSG5pT3batOyh-QRF2X0jTqHb4o8Qjjx4T3ddH-SdESf3O42klp-nWGelfCc603GlNXB1Z3ZS4w/w328-h246/IMG_0297+%25282%2529.JPG" width="328" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Like all good Americans, I’ve taken on the mysterious and fickle hobby of sourdough starter during this pandemic/quarantine/covid…thing. A plus with this little endeavor are the dozens of tangy, chewy bagels that appear in our kitchen. It’s a slow process. Anyone who has dipped their toes (hopefully only metaphorically) into sourdough starter knows that sourdough takes its sweet time to do All The Things. It takes weeks before you have “mature” starter. Mine is bubbly and smelly, which is typically a sign of immaturity in people. Not so with sourdough. It takes a day or two to produce what you hope will be delicious carbs. Sometimes the effort is wasted. Most of the time it’s rewarded.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I digress.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">I’m currently staring at bagels that are “resting” for another hour. Also note: Starting sourdough baking projects in the afternoon is a great way to guarantee you are going to be up past your bedtime. Feel free to pin that baking hack. The dough has spent the better part of the day sitting. What it’s resting </span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">from </span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">is beyond me. I’m the one who could use a nap, what with the sourdough-sitting gig</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">I can’t explain what the dough has been doing all day, but it’s been doing something alright. It’s not the same dough I kneaded with enthusiasm nine hours ago. It’s changed. I can relate. All day long things are happening below the surface. Growth. Subtle transformations.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Weigh the dough, roll it between floury hands, pierce the center, give it a good twirl around the ol’ finger for good measure (also, a master baker method, I’m sure). Rest, boil, bake. Repeat. Sounds familiar. Although I live in the desert, so anything that sounds oven-y feels applicable to daily life, especially this time of year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">The clock keeps ticking. </span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know why I bother taking the time to poke a hole in the middle. It closes up by the time it’s finished baking. Besides, no hole would equal more surface area for important things like cream cheese.</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"> One person suggested, “The hole is so it looks more like a doughnut.” I’m sure that’s why professional bakers do it. Another person chimed in that perhaps the hole allows for even cooking. Hmmm…perhaps. But even if it’s not, it struck a chord. Perhaps Step One is laying the groundwork for Step Two, and Step Three, and Four. Perhaps the pressures and punctures of right now yield greater consistency later.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Sometimes what’s best for us pierces. Sometimes the process takes longer than we anticipate. Sometimes we begin later than we should have. Sometimes, the heat feels a little extra, well, </span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">hot</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">. The sear of sanctification rarely whispers. More often than not, I go kicking and screaming into change. You too? Perhaps the hurt is ensuring the next step is more successful. Perhaps the heat allows us to rise.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FWe0CUpxZK7BQ9U1CUjgViGzix-z8djtzTLFtuJ22s2M88QsKeLZLFOtDYh1w9VIoEaqi8yLdZYcApLYQVwZ32A3lKydeltf4n6-KH0_E4StqZwePD_mHU9MzPD-POKM6xW1m163vow/s2048/IMG_0299+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Calibri; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FWe0CUpxZK7BQ9U1CUjgViGzix-z8djtzTLFtuJ22s2M88QsKeLZLFOtDYh1w9VIoEaqi8yLdZYcApLYQVwZ32A3lKydeltf4n6-KH0_E4StqZwePD_mHU9MzPD-POKM6xW1m163vow/w307-h410/IMG_0299+%25282%2529.JPG" width="307" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Oh, and bagels have holes to ensure consistent cooking temperatures throughout the dough. So, I guess it’s not to mimic their fried cousin...? Who knew?</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Learning Sour Lessons,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Cynthia</span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-24920908338166607622018-09-20T14:19:00.002-07:002018-10-01T15:32:50.958-07:00Anecdotal Antidote <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There seems to be a case of the newlyweds going around. Much like polio vaccinations, the antidote contains a strain of the contagion. You hafta get hitched to get inoculated. It takes about a year or so for the symptoms to decrease. Then it lays dormant in your system till death do you part.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The masses are mostly concerned with those recently infected, and those who have successfully managed their diagnosis for fifty or more years. We are simply teary-eyed over couples who have been married for fifty, sixty, seventy-plus years. They’re an <i>inspiration</i>. On the other end of the spectrum, we feel the need to check in with those newlyweds to make sure they’re managing OK. Maybe they need us to bring them a pot of Chicken Soup for the Just-Married Soul (CSFTJMS). We give them a studious once-over to make sure they seem sufficiently dewy-eyed and affectionate toward one another. And it’s always the same question (newlyweds, say it with me):</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“How’s married life?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bleh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Go ahead. Ask a newly-married couple how many times they’ve been asked this exact question. I dare you. Now, here’s the really weird thing: How many newlyweds are going to offer an earth-shattering answer to this question? Even if they’re two months into this gig, and it’s going horridly off the rails, do you think this question paired with a goofy smile on the face of the inquirer is going to solicit any kind of vulnerable answer? Um, no. Best case scenario, you happen to be the first person to ask them this question, and they’re excited to answer with some adorably cute anecdotal proof of their wedded bliss. More likely, you’ll be the 174th person to ask them this week, and they’re so sick of slapping on the million-watt smile and telling cutesie stories that they kinda grimace-glare-mutter something unintelligible which necessitates you administer an emergency dose of CSFTJMS.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is really not a post about the One Yearers though. This is really just a long-winded segue, but before I drop the newlyweds like a sack of biohazard pathogens, may I make a suggestion for some alternatives to asking the much-dreaded question, “How’s married life?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hows abouts:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What is one thing that has surprised you about married life?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OR</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What adjustment has been the most challenging?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OR</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“How can I pray for you?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OR</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Do you have any leftover trendy cake pops from the reception? I have a craving.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK? OK.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Moving right along.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While I remember that repetitive question in our early months of marriage, I don’t recall the last time someone asked <i>me</i>. A couple’s first year very well may have significant challenges, but it’s the following 49+ years that will fortify or crumble the castle. Most couples will outlast their first anniversary, but many don’t make it to their matrimonial booster shots.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Booster shots are a tricky thing. I’m sure my childhood vaccinations have worn off, broken down, fallen apart, whatever it is they do when they’re too old. I <i>think </i>I’ve received a couple booster shots of <i>something </i>as an adult…?* If someone hadn’t walked up with a stabby-mabob and administered my <i>whatever </i>booster, I wouldn’t have bothered to ever get it. I don’t spend my days charting immunization boosters and how to maximize their effectiveness. I don’t give them a second thought. I barely given them a first thought. It’s more like a fleeting blip on my brainwaves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Shots</i>. Blip. <i>Ouch</i>. Blip. <i>Is it too early to have chocolate? Silly me! It’s never too early to have chocolate</i>. Blip-blip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’ll pause to validate that I might be losing my dear non-vaxer readers. The analogy gets a little muddy if you’re opposed to them, yeah? Just substitute essential oils for vaccinations, and call it good. Group hug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The nuptial excitement wears off, and without proper preventative measures, the commitment breaks down. The initial megadose of matrimony becomes diluted and risks falling apart. In order for continued success, immunizations require boosters. Marriages, likewise. If I expend no further energy and thought than minimal blips on the brainwaves, there won’t be many anniversaries to celebrate. Do I keep a watchful eye on the health of the relationship, looking for ways to maximize our strength </span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">as a couple? Or, just like my booster shot, have I completely ignored it, assuming my laissez-faire posture is enough to avoid calamity?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wonder what would happen if, instead of inundating the newlyweds, we also asked those who are due for a booster, “How’s married life?” Now <i>there </i>would be some conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Seventeen and counting,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*Yes, I realize I should probably have some sort of a clue as to what the nice lady is jabbing into my arm, but confrontation is not my strong suit and I wanted to be brave for my girls to see it wasn’t so bad.</span><br />
<br />Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-11362934027988374862018-09-10T11:20:00.001-07:002018-09-20T14:21:49.525-07:00Beauty is in the Eye of the Bookholder<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">There</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">’s something anticipative about wrapping my hands around the spine and fore edge of a novel. It beckons the senses and stirs the soul. The possibilities are boundless. The weight of the volume whispers of uncharted lands, adventures that beckon; of elation, agony, redemption, beauty. </span><i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Anything </span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">can be extracted from the pages.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Despite my hearty tribute, I’ve always struggled to read books that challenge me, books with </span><i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">substance</span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">. I wanted to be someone who read books that stuck to my ribs, but I always gravitated toward...fluff. Instead of decadent twelve course meals on delicate bone China, I was settling for sketchy potluck appetizers on flimsy paper plates. You know the ones I mean. Toasted salmonella puffs with a hint of E. coli merengue plated with a tangy botulism reduction which rapidly saturates the 1-ply plate. Check please. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">This year I wanted to feast. No more bland fare that’s been sitting out too long. The goal: fifty-two books in one year, consisting only of books I’ve either never read or never finished. My list is comprised of a smorgasbord of genres that would lead you to assume the curator was a hyperactive toddler hopped up on a dozen Pixy Stix and released unsupervised in a bookstore for a shopping spree. I won’t even attempt to explain why I’ve chosen the books I’ve chosen for this year. Accept the method, folks. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">It’s Week 37 and I’ve completed thirty-one titles. Perhaps I won’t meet my reading goal, but I’ve already succeeded in something far superior to arbitrary quotas; I’ve proven to myself that I am most capable of digesting quite the literary meal. I’ve dined on the theological eloquence of Lewis, the worlds imagined by Tolkien, and the cry for social justice of Dickens. I’ve sunk my teeth into the battles between men, and the gods who interfered. I’ve wandered through the well-worn paths of Prince Edward Island and come face-to-face with IT. I’ve cried despite knowing the fate allotted to Beth and Charlotte alike. I’ve cringed through dystopian landscapes, and nodded along to uplifting prose. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">In short, my palette is greatly expanded, and I’m left, not uncomfortably stuffed as one who gorged until pained, but rather as one whose appetite has merely been fanned into flame. Each entr</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">é</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">e merely whets the appetite for the next literary flavor. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Yes, I think I shall peruse the menu a bit more. What’s your recommendation? </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Turning a Page,</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';">Cynthia</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-spacerun: 'yes';"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-70347061235584816642018-03-11T14:19:00.000-07:002018-03-15T19:49:16.281-07:00Let Them (Re)Visited: Let Them Get Dirty<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Let Them (Re)visited</i> is an opportunity for me to eat crow or crow all the louder regarding topics I covered during my <i>Let Them</i> series. Let's see what happens, shall we?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2013/02/let-them-saturday-series_16.html">Many moons ago</a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
we lived in the middle of the city. We had modern conveniences like
sidewalks and asphalt. We were greeted in the morning, noon, and
night with sirens. We had a decent-sized yard, all things
considered. Getting dirty was downright luxurious. It was like
winning the lottery when mom said to play in the mud. </span></span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">That
was then. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">This
is now. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">We
have two and a half acres...of dirt. Dirt roads, dirt driveway,
dirt-covered bushes. Basically, it's dirt as far as the eye can see,
broken up by desert growth and our lovely 3 foot berm of poop. You
see, we bought this dirt with <strike>poop factories</strike> animals in mind. So
we're fortifying our city gates with the materials they provide. You
want on our property? You're gonna hafta scale the poo. May the best man win.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">We're
classy people. Most of my children take Olympian leaps up Poo
Mountain and arise victorious at its peak, complete with celebratory
fist pumps. I'm trying to curb this bad habit. I really am. But I've
had better luck nailing Jell-o to the wall. I've also caught them
sliding down its treacherous sides like it's the black diamond run of poo skiing. This is accomplished on feet if I'm lucky...backsides
if we have house guests. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><i>Yes</i>, I have to remind my children to not show off our poo pile to their friends. <i>Yes</i>, I've lectured my children about inviting their friends to scale up, roll down, and generally fling the contents of Poo Mountain. <i>Yes</i>, we are blacklisted from delicate play dates. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Then
there's shoveling manure against the wind, which always results in a
special full-body "dusting." I wish I could tell you how
many times I've told a particular child to go shower off, because
there's poop in her hair. She acts like this is ludicrous. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><i>I
showered yesterday!</i> </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yes,
but you've conquered Poo Mountain (congratulations, by the way-your
gold medal is in the mail) and flung manure dust all over creation,
sweet child. Contracting dysentery is not on our bucket list.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Dirty
nails and smudgy faces are a daily occurrence around here. “Shoe
checks” are mandatory. But mixed in with all that dirt are great
life lessons woven throughout childhood memories. Hard work, the
responsibilities of farm life, the joys of training a new animal, and
the sorrows of burying one. The struggles are greater. The earth
oftentimes resists yielding to the shovel, as we are wont to protest
the shock of the Gardener's spade slicing away that which would stunt
our purpose. Yet, the rewards are richly gratifying. Moldy kitchen
scraps and manure mingle with cultivated soil and thoughtfully sown
seeds to reap an inspiring bounty. When what we see is degradation
and filth staring back at us in the mirror, perhaps He sees timely
growth wrung from adversity.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">In
the end, we traded our sidewalks and asphalt for neighborhood games
of tag on a bumpy back road; our sirens for the silence; and our yard
for dirt. Glorious, filthy dirt. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And
more showers.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Applying
Soap Liberally,</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Cynthia</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-20451557666981813432016-11-13T09:49:00.000-08:002016-11-13T09:49:23.398-08:00Annie was one such woman...<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Every once and again a life touches another's, leaving a profound and indelible signature. Annie was one such woman. My story is much like countless others; her kindness speaking volumes, and her smile sparking palpable joy in any room she entered. She never took herself too seriously, all the while gladly bearing another's burden with heartfelt warmth. What was probably an act of kindness quickly forgotten by her has stuck with me for nearly twenty years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I blew into work on a frosty morning, I lamented to Annie (who went by “Annie” then, and so remains in my mind as “Annie” instead of “Anne”) that I had regretfully lost my favorite winter hat. Bustling between college classes and work, I had somehow lost it out of my truck. Alas! Despite retracing my steps, Operation Hat Recon had failed miserably. It was just a silly ol' hat, but Annie listened to my dramatic hat tribute with her trademark compassion and empathy (those who knew her, know exactly what I mean). With work to do, I set to my tasks, while Annie went to the back room. Now is a good time to mention that the hat I lost was white-just ordinary and white. She reappeared with what can only be described as a Suessical hat. Measuring in at an impressive thirty-six inches-yes, it was three feet long, this hat boasted bright stripes from stem to fringey stern. With her 1,000 watt smile, she held out her hat and declared that she absolutely insisted I have it. She modeled how stylish this hat was as she strutted her stuff across the faded carpet of the workroom.. With a gallant toss of her head, she demonstrated how one could use the tail of it as a scarf. How could I possibly say no?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Her head would have been just as cold as mine on the trek home after work, and yet I know that if it had been my jacket I'd lost, she would have given that to me as well. That's just who she was. I could recount dozens of stories of her kindness-driving me across town when my glasses broke, shoving money into my pocket to sneak us ice-cream at work, impromptu drawings for tough days, movie dates, a great many conversations on every topic under the sun, and a hilariously perplexing nickname which stuck for quite some time (but which also holds precious space in my memories). Each moment is stored in my heart, and I'll treasure them there for a lifetime. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As the air grows chilly, I'll pull out my Annie Hat. I've readily worn it every winter, and every winter I garner at least a couple raised eyebrows and amused side-eye glances. The fluff has long since been suppressed, and the hues have lost a certain vibrancy-much like the world has with Annie's passing. However, I will gladly keep right on wearing this comical hat, and anyone who comments will hear a tale of an incredible woman who, with a simple gesture, taught me that it's always the right time to be generous...and a tad goofy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmf3fKx9TB3W74C4vI5T3a0Q-gCFbNsPl9zhGqBcuxyXH5iqSJUnIaY_ETiDI5fjMjgSOuxImoipocihBaqJs9TCHHaRyJvtuyU7DZhp8_ELlNot6q2XcRtr4on9gCrKAF_xIxhCioY4/s1600/IMG_1024+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmf3fKx9TB3W74C4vI5T3a0Q-gCFbNsPl9zhGqBcuxyXH5iqSJUnIaY_ETiDI5fjMjgSOuxImoipocihBaqJs9TCHHaRyJvtuyU7DZhp8_ELlNot6q2XcRtr4on9gCrKAF_xIxhCioY4/s320/IMG_1024+%25284%2529.JPG" width="282" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At a time in our nation when it's en vogue to disagree, I can't help but think that the world needs more Annies. Perhaps today you could choose kindness over yet another politically charged argument. Hug tightly. Listen intently. Snuggle a little longer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With a Blessed-but-Heavy Heart,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<br />Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-90728668613482118172016-01-25T22:01:00.004-08:002016-01-26T08:19:10.777-08:00Let Them (Re)visited: Let Them Give it Away (and a book shout out)<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Let Them (Re)visited</i> is an opportunity for me to eat crow or crow all the louder regarding topics I covered during my <i>Let Them</i> series. Let's see what happens, shall we?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As soon as I peeked at the first <i><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2013/02/let-them-saturday-series_23.html">Let Them</a></i> title, I knew my stance wouldn't have changed one iota. Kids with much should be encouraged to practice generosity. <i>Liberally</i>. But here's what has changed for our home: Things are more complicated now. Kids ranging from toddler to tween means interests are more diverse. Toys are more distinctly owned by individuals. Group consensus to toss something is not met so easily. Olders are more attached to The Things From Their Childhood (things they rarely actually play with, because they are babyish). More trinkets get tossed in the trash, because they don't survive to meet the inside of the giveaway bag.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The living situation is more complicated too. We're practicing commune living, so there's seven people living in a manufactured home. Because we're kooky like that. Four kids in one room means <i>somethin' has to go, precious snowflakes</i>. As this is a temporary arrangement, some special treasures have stayed boxed up. The life-as-I-know-it-will-cease-without-this-toy items have been relegated to small bins on the bed or under it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In short, our children have learned to do without. And embrace it. They've played card games, and worked many a puzzle. They've learned new skills in the kitchen, pursued classic literature (because books are one area I basically refuse to limit, and is evidenced by the mountains of reading material surrounding us), and climbed our trees for hours. Perhaps we've all learned to be content with less. Don't get me wrong, we all have displayed selfishness over keeping something, but what I've learned since February 23rd, 2013 is that less truly, really, honestly is more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think most parents want their children to become giving, thoughtful, gracious people. I think most of us falter in our steps as we strive to raise grateful kids. It feels uncomfortably against the flow to teach kids gratitude, and sometimes it's easier to float with the current down You Deserve It River. Sometimes we need a solid kick in the pants before we're willing to adjust our thinking. Before I'm willing to say, “OK, God, what I'm doing is a total crapshoot.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Here comes my amazingly smooth and undetectable segue.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hey! Remember that one time I applied to be part of a launch team for Kristen Welch's new book, <i>Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World</i>, and didn't know I'd been accepted because my e-mail is rising up in mutiny and eating important e-mails? I've basically been playing catch-up with the rest of the team, which means they've been babysitting me and holding my hand, bless it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2lQ6CiQdjdKOiO5Tb7oN-ESADfv6ah_Yyr8nVgyiQKhevBSmNPbDyWQURg5UMKSuyTwIb__nb76xHFFPDc29ytQmbA3MD0ZilleddlH_MJAN1kLNZp0d_zOnT3RexXryuNn0uWpITus/s1600/Kristen+Welch+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2lQ6CiQdjdKOiO5Tb7oN-ESADfv6ah_Yyr8nVgyiQKhevBSmNPbDyWQURg5UMKSuyTwIb__nb76xHFFPDc29ytQmbA3MD0ZilleddlH_MJAN1kLNZp0d_zOnT3RexXryuNn0uWpITus/s400/Kristen+Welch+cover.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(<a href="http://files.tyndale.com/thpdata/images--covers/HiResJPG/978-1-4964-0529-6.jpg?height=500">source</a>)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We need a kick in the pants, and Kristen delivers a swift, but gracious boot to get us moving. We're not all precious, gentle families who practice All The Special Things with our families. Kristen knows that. Kristen is our people. She's transparent. Reading her book is just like sitting across from her on a squishy couch, yukking it up. I know this because we have the same verse inked on us and I sent her an e-mail years ago to tell her...so we're basically BFF's and I'm not a weirdo stalker. Not once do you catch of a whiff of condescension. Grace, firm suggestions, a call-to-action.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“When entitlement's poison begins to infect our hearts, gratitude is the antidote.” </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Kids will be kids and if we give them too much, too soon, they will likely take it.” </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We give our kids more because we think it will make us all feel better, but it actually places a higher value on things than on relationships. And often our kids don't need more stuff or more freedom; they just need more of us.”</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Good words, Kristen. Go read <a href="http://wearethatfamily.com/2016/01/why-i-want-my-kids-to-be-grateful-more-than-anything-else-giveaway-link-up/">more of her good words</a> (and possibly win something...Oops! I've said too much.).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So here's the deal: Today is the release date! <a href="http://raisinggratefulkids.com/">Go get thee thine own copy and one to giveth away</a>. This isn't so much a parenting book as it is a manual for not raising, nor being yourself a self-absorbed lazy butt. You won't regret it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Convicted,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*Cover courtesy of Tyndale House Publishers</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-90135196001047670872015-12-31T10:09:00.000-08:002015-12-31T16:57:31.172-08:00Lay Down the Guilt, Mamas.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was one of <i>those </i>days. You know the
type. The days where you wake up ready for bedtime, the full moon is
wearing on the senses of certain kiddos, you've snapped before
pouring a single crackle or pop into a bowl for those cherubs faces.
I call those "coffee-to-wine" days. Or maybe you've been too forceful
in tone or heavy-handed in a swat on the tail. Maybe you reacted out
of anger, and your apology hung in the air. When that long-awaited
sandman arrives, it is a blessed thing. You love those small people
dearly, but...seriously. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For. The. Love.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnq7SwYQZ3klURTZ4vTO8q4JtHyyng28nv9f792qEPrLQOteNxv_y37Anl9u-4wSqkTv253xmRgNG94PRD7hw4l08nllHR3SGm9QhPbl61P_abiHSEe551bibYAmZanuhnNFKeHzx04o/s1600/IMG_0666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnq7SwYQZ3klURTZ4vTO8q4JtHyyng28nv9f792qEPrLQOteNxv_y37Anl9u-4wSqkTv253xmRgNG94PRD7hw4l08nllHR3SGm9QhPbl61P_abiHSEe551bibYAmZanuhnNFKeHzx04o/s320/IMG_0666.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They will find you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you fall into bed exhausted from a
day filled with refereeing and tongue-biting, you thank Jesus for
each one of those precious snowflakes asleep in their bunk beds. They
drove you batty all the livelong day, but you could still be moved to
tears just thinking about how fast they're growing up. You slap your
hand across the light switch to turn it off and then roll over to
pray with the hubs. Approximately two seconds after the “Amen”
he's asleep (Don't ask me why God gave men this instantaneous
shut-off valve. I am seven shades of green with envy over this
talent.).
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then the mommy guilt hits.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's not like a tsunami that engulfs
us. It's usually more like a gentle shower of paver bricks. And not
like the spray-painted foam kind in the original Star Trek episodes.
Ladies, I posit that there is just about no worse feeling than
middle-of-the-night mommy guilt. You know what I'm talking about. Our
head hits the pillow, and doubts slam our soul. The space between our
ears becomes the Devil's own playground.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Sooo...you've got some grandiose
plans...for someone who loses their cool, wastes time, throws down
judgment and attitude. World changer, huh? You'll be lucky to make a
dent within your own family, let alone the world. But, no. You go
ahead. I'm sure tomorrow will be peachy keen. World changer.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks, Satan. Sleep can wait.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">May I suggest something? May I suggest
that we are heaping on a whole mess of stuff that Jesus already knows
about? He chooses to love us <i>through </i>and <i>despite </i>our shortcomings.
May I suggest that we think too highly of ourselves if we truly
believe that our every action will be either our child's doing or
undoing? How 'bout we just unclench a teensy bit?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is parenting important? Um, yeah.
Should I be on my knees, in the audience, on the sidelines, shivering
under an umbrella supporting my kids? Of course. Is the whole world
going to stop on its axis if I miss a game (or even *gasp* a season)?
Actually, no. Will salvation expire for my daughter if there's a day
that my prayers for her consist of pursed-lip* sputters like, “Jesus,
feel free to come back today.” or “Thank you, God, for the poetic
justice when she ran into the doorjamb while stomping away with her
saucy self. I needed a boost today. And now please also send me the
bladder of a twenty-two year old.”? Not likely. Of course, if all
of humanity hung on our flimsiest moments and weakest instances of
faith, the lot of us would be doomed. The book of Acts would have
been over in a hot second, because none of us would have been able to
launch something as big as Church Beginnings.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, here's the deal: You are exactly
the gem you are supposed to be,
flaws and imperfections included. God's going to keep refining and
polishing until you gleam in His presence, but that doesn't mean
you're worthless and useless in the meantime. It doesn't mean you
fail as a mother. The actual refinement process is exactly what
produces such incredible final workmanship. Every single hard moment
of mothering is just more of that polishing.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There's
this beautiful treasure tucked in 1 John 4. John is reminding his
readers not to fall prey to lies and deception, and then in verse 4,
he lays down this stunning reminder: "You are from God, little children, and you have conquered them (the lies), because the One who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bam.
Drop mic.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God
is SO FOR YOU. He is for your parenting, and for your marriage, and
for your New Year's resolution to read the bible with your kids every
day. He is in your corner, because He is actually IN YOU.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even
when you fail.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Get
Some Sleep,</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*This is fondly referred to as “The Grandma
Face” in our house. She had a way with The Look that could pucker
your butt cheeks, bless her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-10603144409511349902015-09-15T15:39:00.002-07:002015-09-15T15:39:28.025-07:00These Are My People<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They stood before us in complete brokenness. Their souls were anguished and what they shared was crushing. We were a room filled with salty tears and heavy hearts. They had pulled back their shroud of mourning and palpable grief spilled onto people eager to bear the burden with them. Eager to carry even an ounce of their pain. With news such as theirs, judgement <i>could </i>have proven swift and tongues <i>could </i>have been ablaze with harsh speculation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I reached a hand for her during prayer. We fervently sought the Lord. When words were spent, we both eyed her nail indents in my palm. <b>I tried to recall a time when I felt so wholly needed during a prayer that the physical proof lasted longer than the prayer itself.</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've seen people tenaciously cling to Jesus. I've heard the confessions of the saints. I've looked on as the young wash the feet of the wise. I've listened to prayers soothe anxious minds. I've watched them crisscross the room to pray with him. To edify her. At first I was shocked by the gentle admonitions peppered throughout conversation. Now the shock would be to not hear it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We've found our tribe. It's messy and transparent. It requires each one doing their work, and isn't that how it should be? For us, it happens to be a more <a href="https://www.cmaresources.org/about">organic tribe</a>. However, I'm a firm believer that any Jesus-lovin' people can fit the bill whether they meet at a park or in the pews, submerge or sprinkle, are liturgical or non-denominational. While those details (and scores of other churchy topics) are of incredible import, all the theology in the world can offer nothing more than a framework for beliefs. Heart work is developed in the grittiness of relationship. Discipleship, true discipleship, challenges your weaknesses, calls upon your strengths, and rubs you raw. And just as raw flesh will blister, sometimes a raw faith will do the same. That broken family? They were blistered. They knew they needed the healing salve of their tribe. They came with wounds exposed. We listened with bandages in hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't share to self-congratulate. Our tribe is a hot mess. I share because I know these people deeply enough to know we're all a hot mess. We see each others' faults, because we push beyond Sunday greetings and polite prayer requests. All the programs and curriculum in the catalog can't buy that kind of authenticity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Can I suggest something? Trade in the brittle facade. Replace it with a robust desire to truly love Jesus and His people. Carve out time. Ask hard questions. Tell hard stories. Break bread. Reach far. Call. Write. Pray. Repent. Fast. Confess. Worship. Repeat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Learning to Repeat,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-77029851605147713612015-08-22T14:27:00.001-07:002015-08-22T14:27:19.187-07:00The One With All The Camps<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since The Professor </span><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2015/08/powering-on.html" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">turned my piglets into an oxen</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(happy anniversary to me), I felt it only right to slap you all with some marital wisdom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, before I wow you with ALL THE SMARTS, let me tell you a story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Within the first year of our marriage it became apparent to us that most people sideline any hint of relationship insight offered by newlyweds. To be fair, the scope of our experience was limited to courtship, short engagements, newlywed matters, and wedding night jitters. Impressive. We were were given non-refundable tickets to "Starry-Eyed-Newlywed Camp" which just so happens to be right across the road from "Pre-Kid-Parenting-Ideals Camp." I also attended "Twenty-Somethings-Who-Are-Excited-To-Turn-30-So-They-Will-Finally-Be-Taken-Seriously Camp." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We just wanted some street cred, dangit. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">He was happy, I swear.<br />And also, forgive me, Tweezers, for I did not<br />yet know your worth. Bless those eyebrows.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">See? A smirky-smile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">This is a shout out to all ladies everywhere<br />who find themselves with dry lips by the<br />time you've cut the cake. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then we were bused straight to "We're-PREGNANT?!? Camp" which hosted social nights with "Holy-Crap-We're-Actually-Adults Camp."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After that, it's all a blur. All I know is that I woke up to a camp bugle that sounded suspiciously like the flush of a low-flow toilet and self-sufficient children making their own breakfast after starting a load of laundry. Turns out, we're camp counselors. I didn't realize this until I caught myself thinking, "Why do these people keep asking for my advice? Isn't it obvious I'm winging it on about 97.9999% of what I do?" I guess that means we've got street cred. The funny thing about finally having a satchel filled to the gills with advice is that you realize how incredibly lacking your own bag truly is and always will be. You dump out the contents and begin shoveling in gems from weathered backpacks. You sit back and listen to stories from people who have seen decades upon decades of ALL THE CAMPS and you marvel at their wisdom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, my gems are mostly inherited from wise counselors, with a few originals in the mix. Here are the top marriage tips I've learned in fourteen years of marriage:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1.<b> Everyone goes into marriage with some degree of rose-colored tinting on the lenses.</b> That's OK. That's kinda how God made us. I'm more concerned about the engaged couple whose excitement level suggests jury duty is on the horizon rather than marriage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2.<b> Your way isn't always the best route.</b> It just isn't. That person who proposed to you (or said "yes" to your proposal) is obviously smart. I mean, they chose you, right?!? Embrace their ideas. I guarantee you'll learn scads of nifty-ness along the journey. Think of your spouse as your personal life hack buddy.*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. <b>Know each others' <a href="http://www.5lovelanguages.com/">love languages</a>.</b> It's the closest thing we get to a manual. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. <b>Short engagements aren't inherently bad.</b> Sure, people will gossip about it.** If you know that you know that you <i>know </i>that this is right, why wait three years? Git-r-done, I say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. <b>Skip the drama.</b> This is not a reality TV show. You do not have a contract beyond the one attached to those vows. Ratings do not improve with each tantrum or shallow retort thrown down. <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/09/battle-of-sexes-part-deux.html">Gentlemen, cherish</a>. <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/09/battle-of-sexes-part-i.html">Ladies, respect</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">6. <b>Something must be at the center of your marriage. I strongly suggest Jesus. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">7. <b>Laugh often.</b> Play.*** Learn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Love Well,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*"Life hack buddy" needs to be added to wedding vows. Secretary, make a note of that. Thanks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**It's so precious when people close to you ask if this is a shotgun situation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***A year later, we were still finding stale marshmallows from The Marshmallow War of 2001. True story.</span><br />
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Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-38863116024472192052015-08-13T13:36:00.000-07:002015-08-13T13:36:59.136-07:00Powering On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px;">Well, it's like this: I was clipping along on this blogging gig, right? We were having loads of fun together, and I delivered deep truths which convicted you to the core. (I know. You can thank me later.) We were going places! There was only one problem. The computer I had wasn't reeeeeally suited for someone who loves to write. It was made for people who want a portal to Facebook, which also just happens to have some sort of word program thingy. (...if you like your word program thingy to be a major wisenheimer about playing the crash and burn game. Precious.) Using that squirrely computer for writing was akin to hitching a couple of teacup piglets to a yoke and expecting to plow an acre of land. Cute, but futile. I can crack the whip and “Hyah” until I pass out, but we're not furrowing one inch of soil. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px; text-align: center;">I tried. I really did. I girded my loins, prayed in tongues, waited expectantly for God to supernaturally change my piglets into beefy oxen. Turns out, sometimes God goes the husband-has-an-impressive-anniversary-present route instead of the Vegas-style-miracle route. God works in mysterious ways, dear people.* </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px;">Anyway, I'm writing to you on this joyous day that is Big Blue's maiden voyage in word processing. I'll pass you a hankie. Why name my computer Big Blue, you ask? The symbolism is deep with this one, but I'll try to keep it simple. She's big...and...blue.** Besides, it (coincidentally) works well with my whole piglet/oxen analogy. At any rate, she's a beast, and I've got a lot of ground to cover. I've set hand to plow, and we're digging deep. Aren't you lucky?!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just look at those keys! Bye-bye piglets.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px;">Cynthia</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px;">*This has absolutely nothing to do with me gritting my teeth every time I opened that laptop.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 18.2399997711182px;">**I never bothered to name my last computer, because we didn't imprint on each other, but before the nameless one, there was Little Blue Lollipop (You may respectfully refer to her as Ms. Lolli). Ms. Lolli was also blue and was loyal to a fault. We were travelling companions through All The Words, working side by side until I dropped a drum on her face. Sometimes I still hear her little "Squeeeetch, beep-boop". Actually, it's rather painful to talk about, and I'd appreciate if you didn't bring it up again. </span></span></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-4356724314086848562015-04-04T16:04:00.001-07:002015-04-06T08:42:19.596-07:00It's Friday...And No One Wants To Talk About Saturday.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"It's Friday, but Sunday is coming!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This one phrase is filled with such anticipation and hope. If we can just hold out a little longer, the celebration will be here in all its glory. So, attend community egg hunts on Saturday. Get your picture with the Easter bunny before it's too late.* Iron coordinating outfits and whip up egg salad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While none of those activities are wrong (alright the bunny thing freaks me out), the sentiment leaves me feeling a tad uneasy. It's much easier to look toward sunrise on Easter than to weep and mourn on Saturday. No disciples smiled broadly when the curtain was torn, proclaiming "Whelp! It's Friday, but Sunday's a-comin'!" No. They beat their breast, keening, and clinging to one another in fear. They were bereft, and seemed to be in a fog of uncertainty and anguish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">May I suggest something?** May I suggest that it's OK to sit uncomfortably and painfully with today? Let's sit in the separation of Saturday, with its loss and sorrow. With its sackcloth and ashes. With its burial linens steeped in oils and spices. With its brokenness and borrowed tomb. With the stillness of One who was loved and lost. There was not yet a holy breath inhaled into a resurrected frame. There was nothing more than guarded decay and salty tears dried upon cheeks. There were memories of His first steps as a child and those upon the waves-all marred by watching his last steps to Golgotha. There were scores of anxious questions whispered behind closed doors-unanswered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes. Sunday <i>is</i> coming. The darkness of today won't last, but today is indeed still a day of lament. And that's OK.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aching,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*When did that become a thing?!?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Since it's my blog, you don't really get a say anyway. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo.</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-61791238888448899122015-03-02T14:49:00.001-08:002015-03-02T14:49:08.358-08:00Surviving the Big Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhyNAQnK1fDIzsBmQ08uldBdyo7WHXHKqdkNroz1y0_2TNCpOhHPO84wYN2W5Gh9C50e8Lpw6Aob3UCTRjfhjI5kRpgWFTT7K1mC9GSpe-raDs7Id2Af12YQxd2hBGasousY8uycUIqw/s1600/birthday+candle2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhyNAQnK1fDIzsBmQ08uldBdyo7WHXHKqdkNroz1y0_2TNCpOhHPO84wYN2W5Gh9C50e8Lpw6Aob3UCTRjfhjI5kRpgWFTT7K1mC9GSpe-raDs7Id2Af12YQxd2hBGasousY8uycUIqw/s1600/birthday+candle2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We survived another Big Day. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Big Days are the reason I am cautious about filling in subsequent days on the calendar. They are also the reason I have a secret chocolate stash and two coffee carafes. Big Days are a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">big deal</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. And we survived. Or rather, perhaps I should say we’re in the midst of surviving and the odds are lookin’ favorable. It’s difficult to explain the complexities of Big Days to people who have the freedom to celebrate with abandon. First of all, if your Big Days are carefree and joyful and backlash-less, then amen and hallelujah! Don’t you dare feel guilty. Revel in it, but also take notes. I’ll pass you the chocolates. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let’s see...how to describe Big Days...Aha! Imagine lovingly choosing a piñata for your child’s birthday party. It’s bright. It’s colorful. It has just the right touch of sparkle and none of the tissue paper is faded from being displayed in a window. Here’s the kicker: You let your child decide with what to fill this treasure of a piñata. You suggest candies, or toys, or gluten-free cardboard cookies and fruit leathers. You provide him with a crisp ten dollar bill to spend on piñata goodies.* He’s excited to fill it to the brim, but there’s a vague uneasiness, which you chalk up to loosening the reins. After all, it’s only a piñata. Now imagine it’s party day. You’ve been casually chatting about the piñata with your kiddo, and all seems under control. Games are played, presents are opened, and now the moment of truth is upon us. The kids take turns beating the tar out of this beautiful piñata. Hooray! It splits when a big kid lands a solid blow to the side, and to your horror, out tumble the contents of this morning’s trash. Since you spent the last few days cleaning the nooks and crannies, your trash is a real doozy of nastiness. There are dust bunnies drowning in kitchen sink strainer goo. Meat scraps and dirty diapers are bouncing to the ground. Something putrid that officials in a Level A hazmat suit wouldn’t touch has splashed on the guests, who (by the way) are glaring in disgusted silence at you. Covered in slimy coffee grounds, you spot the crumpled, stinky remnant of a shredded ten dollar bill. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because he just. wasn’t. good. enough. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh, he wanted desperately to fill the piñata with Ring Pops and water guns. But if he accepts that money and fills the pinata with good gifts, he’s admitting he deserves those things and is loved. Rather than be let down, he’d prefer to sabotage it from the start, because rejection is safer. Those are Big Feelings that routinely accompany Big Days. Whether Big Days are big due to trauma or special needs (or something altogether different), there are typically Big Feelings (like scared, sad, angry, overwhelmed, etc.) and Big Attitudes (of indifference, hostility, unthankfulness, etc.). </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our Big Day is two days behind us. Presents were minimal and low-key, as was the celebration with friends. Yesterday was a wee bit...um...well...sucky. There were strong bouts of remorse for accepting (and cherishing) the gifts from us, which manifests itself in a great deal of hurtful push-back. She’s out to prove we didn’t give those gifts out of love. But she’s not winning; We’re throwing her curveballs by discrediting her claims. Things will even out. The new string of lights for her bed will get turned on, because, with time, their illumination will no longer signal a threat, but instead be a beacon of love. Big Feelings will subside. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And maybe, for the next Big Day, we will tackle that pinata together. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mopping Up The Mess,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*Double the budget for gf treats, because HIGHWAY ROBBERY.</span></span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-59542949172544194012015-02-25T14:54:00.001-08:002015-02-25T15:03:23.850-08:00Why We Honor Black History Month<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vxZq-UN_G_UiF9-E1FlyinAGiHyD8PbUWh6-hOXWk4mh3aLlAnuNpTM2LCMwT3gcibLYUW-HLajBFhxK5tr9gUjSkG1dcPIKz8mnH9aie9yykEdHX1khvHM9g2Famg7Aw7-g7_Ki1UU/s1600/BHM+Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vxZq-UN_G_UiF9-E1FlyinAGiHyD8PbUWh6-hOXWk4mh3aLlAnuNpTM2LCMwT3gcibLYUW-HLajBFhxK5tr9gUjSkG1dcPIKz8mnH9aie9yykEdHX1khvHM9g2Famg7Aw7-g7_Ki1UU/s1600/BHM+Books.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s controversial. If you’re asking why this is controversial, there’s a good chance you’re probably not: a) Black (me neither), or b) A transracial family (ding-ding! We have a winner!). I suppose there’s hidden option number three; You haven’t given it much thought either way, which still indicates your driver’s license most likely says “Caucasian”. Wait. I just checked my driver’s license. Apparently we don’t claim a race to drive. Well, this is awkward. I know I check that little box on forms all the time. Or maybe I’m just filling out endless forms for our gaggle of children. Anyone else feel like paperwork for routine check-ups for four kids should not require an extra 45 minutes to fill out and suggestions to ice your tendons afterward? I’m developing bone spurs over here.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyhoo.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Black History Month. Controversy.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Growing up, I don’t remember BHM being a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thing</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I remember Maypoles and Valentines and pilgrims and envying kids with Lunchables. But Black History </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Month</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? Nope. I’ve got nuthin’. If you’re completely lost, here’s a quick rundown: In 1915, a historian and a minister (Carter G. Woodson and Jesse E. Moorland) along with some of their colleagues got together and started an organization for the educating, promoting and researching of achievements made by black Americans. While the organization has changed names since its inception (they have to stay PC), it is still in effect today. In 1926 author and historian Dr. Carter G. Woodson had an idea:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We should sponsor a National Negro History Week.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Totes. When?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Second week in February. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But that puts us smack dab in the middle of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincolns’ birthdays.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Exactly.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brilliant, Dr. Woodson.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took a while to catch on, but momentum was gained as school districts and mayors threw their support behind the vision. From there, its grassroot efforts were richly rewarded. By 1976, then-president Gerald Ford had an idea:</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hey, I was thinkin’...if a little is good, a whole month will be even better. I’m calling it-Black History Month is a thing now.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Totes. When?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We better go with the shortest month of the year. Good thing National Negro History Week is already in February.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brilliant, Mr. President.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And that’s how it all began. I’m not sure how long after President Ford’s declaration it took for people to analyze and develop mixed feelings on the whole shebang, but I’m guessing roughly two minutes. Now, I don’t claim to understand all the arguments, but I’ve done my fair share (and then some) of analyzing, reanalyzing, agonizing and then analyzing some more. Did I mention my keen ability to overanalyze things? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The support for BHM looks something like this:</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a sector of society and of history that is largely undersold and undertold by mainstream (read that, white) America. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The accomplishments amongst the black community are vast and should be celebrated on a national level.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White History Month is every month. Dedicating 28 days to the educating and honoring of brave/intelligent/strong/articulate black Americans is the least we can do. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The only way to fight racism is to keep pointing to the positive black role models throughout history. What better way than promoting a national movement in the schools and communities?</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The support against BHM looks something like this:</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It allows for the sidelining of black history for the rest of the year. After all, American history is a veritable melting pot of race and cultural histories.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It smacks of white privilege. And also the almighty white savior complex.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are opportunities galore to exercise implicit racial bias and race appropriation and microaggressions and a bunch of other fancy-schmancy words that basically suggest it’s time to sit down and shut up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I see as pros:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A dedicated time to honor some of history’s best and brightest and bravest...who also happen to be black; Such magnificent people such as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Rosa Parks, and Ruby Bridges should get a robust shoutout. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I see as cons:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White families getting a small measure of feel goods for talking positively about black people for a month so they don’t feel so guilty for being afraid of black boys in hoodies the rest of the year. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pigeonholing the history by sticking to the “biggies”. Yes, go ahead and celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, and Ruby Bridges. But, um, may I suggest branching out a wee bit? What about Hazel Scott and John Stewart? Phillis Wheatley? Daniel Payne? Henry “Box” Brown? They’re kind of a big deal too.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, why with all the cons I’ve listed, do we (a transracial family) tread on this thin ice? Because Dr. Woodson worked hard to begin this project, dagnabbit, and I don’t think we’ve arrived at a place (yet) where it has outworn its usefulness. Unless of course, you can tell me (without Google Fu) who Martin Delany is. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cynthia</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*If you don’t already know, I operate purely from a place of levity and love and ragged, raw contemplation. If that’s not your bag, I get it. That’s why computers come with those little “X” buttons up at the top right. Close this tab and get on with your bad self. </span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-36332418656123174322014-10-18T14:56:00.005-07:002014-10-18T14:56:45.508-07:00Weathered Paint and Solidarity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyKjrho7kJyMcIlGpDLJU8eeEgVQG2qNqwfQVLXh2cfstMlb4dYgOeIFCCfFYFpLSHUBkgEbZozNikq0UXlAXfl_dy5VW29XYOPhX47woZV-YL0XOivCnG3PVMotjzvry05l4DwhJz18/s1600/P1030936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyKjrho7kJyMcIlGpDLJU8eeEgVQG2qNqwfQVLXh2cfstMlb4dYgOeIFCCfFYFpLSHUBkgEbZozNikq0UXlAXfl_dy5VW29XYOPhX47woZV-YL0XOivCnG3PVMotjzvry05l4DwhJz18/s1600/P1030936.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember that last blog post? Silly me! Of course you don’t. I only wrote it a month and a half ago. Well, let me refresh your memory. I told you how horrible I am with this whole "do it and pass it along" gig. I waxed on eloquently. And is was as though I explained it and the entire universe answered back "Challenge accepted!". It's hanging over me. Every time I open up my laptop, I hear the keys screaming for justice. QWERTY weeps, for I have ignored the thankful challenges and bible verse challenges and ice bucket challenges. And if I had fallen for the sleeping bag/butter/slug/kitchen floor ploy that is rampant on Facebook right now, I would have ignored that challenge too. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Time out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You guys. No one is slathering themselves in butter and pretending to be a slug. Well, I mean, maybe someone has attempted it...but I digress. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, I’ve been busy. Pinterest won’t browse itself, ya’ know. But, no really, this moving and unpacking and organizing and “being a responsible adult” business has gone far enough. When typing up the meeting minutes is exciting because “it’s kinda like writing” it’s time to let the kids have cereal for dinner and spend a little quality time with QWERTY.*</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Being that Thanksgiving is just around the corner (Did I just say that?!?), I am going to knock this all out of the ballpark. Any further “pass it along” challenges will be responded to with a link to this here post. Not even kidding. Because THE GUILT. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, let’s be honest. It’s easy to come up with a generic list of things for which we’re grateful. Acceptable candidates include family, health, food, a home, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>et cetera</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> et cetera</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">...But sometimes all of that feels...blah. It’s routine, and routine thankfulness oftentimes seems flat. Oh sure, we’re sincerely thankful for all of that, but it’s like listening to one person sing a cappella; The harmonizing is crucial to its beauty. It's what lends depth and meaning to the vocal score. So, here’s my (slightly off-key) harmony for you today.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhyphenhyphen52B7xVOcFQDFAZuz7so3zzUUrERsz5p_CYCsm-ObyBMqsnzmR8yzDpSh4qihiyjacv3nazHNU1A1BHMlDGa1xONsfyrFe4cwyPGO2x_oB3dd9oURBQBuXUrcWNLZIpXSAJMRonFbY/s1600/P1030930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhyphenhyphen52B7xVOcFQDFAZuz7so3zzUUrERsz5p_CYCsm-ObyBMqsnzmR8yzDpSh4qihiyjacv3nazHNU1A1BHMlDGa1xONsfyrFe4cwyPGO2x_oB3dd9oURBQBuXUrcWNLZIpXSAJMRonFbY/s1600/P1030930.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The world feels thick with grief. I’ve sensed a discernible haze of despair that seems to have settled over our minds. It feels as though our security is chipping away like weathered paint. Moral standards we thought were unshakeable are teetering. Our vibrant world of comfort is meeting with the greytones of frightening diseases. Terrorism, medical kidnapping, riots. Celebrating the taking of one's own life as brave and beautiful. It’s enough to make me want to grab that comforter all the tighter, and yank it over my head. It’s a struggle to see the beauty through the damage. Can I get an “Amen”? </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every time fear threatens to strangle my joy, and rattle my peace, God whispers His truths to me. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Again</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. If you feel shaken and run-down, this is for you. If you’re on top of the world, you’re not off the hook. Rejoice loudly, and with vim; For those of us trudging below need to soak up that robust warmth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deep breath. Feel that? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It’s air in your lungs.</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Look around. I don’t know where you are, or what your view is. It may be temporary, or borrowed, or picturesque, or crowded, or ritzy, or smelly, or secure. Regardless, you are there. Right now. This is your little corner of the universe for however long God sees fit. Make it a space that is steeped in that which is sacred. Share joyfully, love genuinely, and abide richly with those in your space.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silence the distractions, stretch your mouth into praise, spread your hand over your heart. Feel that? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It’s your heartbeat</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Each precious pulse is needed in this world. There was a purpose for your heart long before its newborn rhythm was formed, and each moment is marked by God’s handiwork, to the very last beat. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For this tiny breadth of time, you have life. You have a place to be and a part to harmonize. And no amount of horrific headlines can strip you of such an anointing. There will always be another news report that drops you to your knees, another hurt that scrapes you raw, another fear that pierces your faith. But there will never be another you in this world and another day like today. Seize it fiercely. Live it boldly. Breathe it deeply.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />Be Filled,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfrfi4SVlq0tyhxHxuh3o3IVlHtI0gVmH5bjPUZkmyMXNUXC6Vjtnp33tE73hQ0iZjFJnBIEELNTCRyK4GQ8IF56CiahBA2cjedGUwzDqZqUNnVAGDIqHPbr3vCLve84HJVjRQIWjXag/s1600/P1030935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfrfi4SVlq0tyhxHxuh3o3IVlHtI0gVmH5bjPUZkmyMXNUXC6Vjtnp33tE73hQ0iZjFJnBIEELNTCRyK4GQ8IF56CiahBA2cjedGUwzDqZqUNnVAGDIqHPbr3vCLve84HJVjRQIWjXag/s1600/P1030935.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*</span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.25px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alright, fine. It was only, like, three people. But STILL. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Don’t even pretend your kids have never eaten cereal for dinner. Solidarity, mamas. </span></span></div>
<br />Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-75629373867266165172014-08-15T08:44:00.003-07:002014-08-15T08:48:24.912-07:00Foamy Dough, Writing, and a Weird Confession<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YHAnmxu2bzM5_aAYPnbgIzrk9kp278Fx_x65FjyzoXaSS8nYUzpcsw_tpQv4pUhGjPKqipGqXFeZ3t-rexS6GJedV8uQiWz8s2ZtiJldlW-mXtI920GsPr0W8azpvzg8CaoKfRUoO2A/s1600/HPIM0347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YHAnmxu2bzM5_aAYPnbgIzrk9kp278Fx_x65FjyzoXaSS8nYUzpcsw_tpQv4pUhGjPKqipGqXFeZ3t-rexS6GJedV8uQiWz8s2ZtiJldlW-mXtI920GsPr0W8azpvzg8CaoKfRUoO2A/s1600/HPIM0347.JPG" height="301" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">I'm lacking in the "pictures of dough" department, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">but it'll all make sense (ish) if you're not too afraid to keep reading. <br />And, yes, that is pizza dough with a marinara "T C" in a heart with an arrow </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">through it. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Us as newlyweds was adorably geeky.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There's something you should know about me. It's something I rarely stop to ponder, but this week it has confronted me with boldness. It is only because I believe in authenticity, and also believe you, dear readers, to be grace-filled, that I risk to share.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've never passed along Amish friendship bread starter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And while I'm at it, any "chain" in which I am required to be an active participant is doomed. Recipe chains? No clue. Postcard swaps? Forget it. Forwarding that chain e-mail we all got in 1993?* Deleted. The only "chain" I managed to pass along was the little country phone prayer chain from my childhood. And that was out of absolute fear that if I didn't man up and call the next person on the list, that some poor soul would be prematurely struck with death, and it would be all my fault for not notifying Jane and Peggy that so-and-so had twisted their ankle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My hesitancy is two-pronged: A) I don't want to be the receiver, because of ALL THE RESPONSIBILITY. These things are typically time-sensitive, which means that awkwardly passing something along, say, five months later (all the while acting punctual and breezy about it) is lame. Causing the entire shebang to pile up is lame. And handing moldy starter dough to someone is...lame...and also kinda creepy. B) I don't want to pick out my <strike>victims</strike> recipients. I feel like they see me coming and just <i>know</i>. I survived a short stint as a direct sales consultant. I recognize the look that says, "Oh goody. Here comes Cynthia to schmooze her way into my pocketbook." It looks identical to the "Oh goody. Here comes Cynthia with bags of foamy dough goo."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't need that kind of pressure, man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, you can imagine my trepidation when a <a href="http://copperlightwood.com/2014/08/from-just-outside-the-bleep-bloop-room.html">dear friend</a>** approached me about participating in a blog hop. I didn't even know what it was, but I was humbled to be included, and also, I needed a jump start. Answering four simple questions seemed easy enough. <i>And now I actually have to do it. </i>Preferably before the starter dough turns rancid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1) What am I working on/writing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This blog post. Duh. (This is why I can't be trusted with this kind of thing)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Beyond this here post, I have been refining a children's book manuscript while my <a href="http://tapestry316.blogspot.com/">mom</a> does the hard part: Illustrating. I've also begun working on a full-length historical fiction.***</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2) How does my work/writing differ from others of its genre?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm pretty sure it doesn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is "sarcastic, Jesus-lovin', homeschooling, orphan crisis-addressing, slightly crunchy mama to a large family" even a genre? 'Cause if it is? NAILED IT!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3) Why do I write what I do?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because it's cheaper than counseling and socially acceptable to partake in before 5 o'clock. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I write the things that God emblazons upon my mind and ignites in my soul. I fail more often than I succeed, and my words are often inadequate and clumsy. BUT they are His words, for His glory and good purpose. If he can use con artists and hookers, then he can use the awkward words of a simple stay-at-home mom who's just trying to save a few bucks on therapy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4) How does my writing process work?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And here's where ya'll skip straight over a counselor and sign me up for my very own comfy cell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I talk through my writing concepts. Out loud. Not <i>to</i> someone. Just out loud. Oh, there are, of course, people <i>around</i>. They are mostly under four feet tall and some of them have banana smoosh in their hair. And sometimes when I'm especially deep in conversation (ahem), I seek solitude, which lasts until someone sticks their fingers under the bathroom door. I don't even know why these short people ask to whom I am speaking. Shouldn't they know how this works by now? Maybe a few counseling sessions wouldn't hurt...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well whew! That wasn't so tough. There's only one problem: Big, Scary Phase Two. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Imagine if we all gathered in a happy little room, and you spied me peeking around the door frame to verify that the coast is clear. Except you, ya' wily stinker, are watching me while pretending to read a text. You see me sneaking to a side table where I unload a box. I've even pre-taped a note to the front of the box. As soon as I beat a hasty retreat and try to act casual with a group of ladies, you saunter over to the box. Inside are bags of bubbly dough and the note reads:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Amish Friendship Bread Starter. Please take one to assuage my guilt. Or not. Whatever.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sincerely,<br />Ball Dropper</span></i></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So here's the tricky part: I haven't chosen bloggers to whom to pass the baton. I. Just. Can't. And <i>apparently</i> there's no tag backs. So, here's my box of dough. Who's going to take some home? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eyeing My Blogging Friends,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*You know. The one where the guy had a vivid and terrifying dream that his friend was going to hell only to find out after waking up that his friend had tragically died in a car accident THAT VERY NIGHT. Don't wait to tell your friends about Jesus, ya'll.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Seriously. Skip the rest of this blog post and go read her stuff. You won't regret it. She writes like me only she's actually good at it, she affirms the sacredness of coffee and chocolate, and is practically related to me. It's only a matter of time before our hunting and pecking around Ancestry.com proves we're long lost sisters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***Hint: My research for this book has led me to communication with the director of the Museum of Menstruation. Yes. That's a thing. </span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-56686639381443375052014-05-12T01:24:00.002-07:002014-05-12T01:24:49.294-07:00Where Wholeness Should Have Been<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I write this, there are forty-one minutes left of Mother's Day, 2014. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This morning I awoke to the familiar sounds of a wire whisk scraping the sides of a scarred mixing bowl. </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I thought of her.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With uncharacteristic solemnity, two girls offered dutiful "Happy Mother's Day" while dumping a fresh-from-the-griddle pancake in my hand. And we laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wondered if she had laughed today.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A certain baby of the family insisted the pancake was hers. I fed her only a nibble, despite her protests. A corner of my heart squeezed at the thought of sustaining life with such a meager nibble.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She had tried. She had desperately clung to fading hope. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lastly, one more entered the room, flinging herself on the bed for a restless snuggle. A little prompting..."Happy Mother's Day". She craned her neck to see my face. Like most people, I am drawn to her deep, liquid eyes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShJAV3PUsK08lpFxHwCQrhnknHymR7aONxTBnemDDLPuvrbIgtzMIWoe3nop4hkv_fsc9-QMZk6rK9pzjCHG0cRQCk1n_d-usPwTDNKCDZEhddmIz3tHhnn2juCZLcieV9DOacwHPko0/s1600/1450983_607092844794_128105791_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShJAV3PUsK08lpFxHwCQrhnknHymR7aONxTBnemDDLPuvrbIgtzMIWoe3nop4hkv_fsc9-QMZk6rK9pzjCHG0cRQCk1n_d-usPwTDNKCDZEhddmIz3tHhnn2juCZLcieV9DOacwHPko0/s1600/1450983_607092844794_128105791_n.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I see her look of defeat as pools threaten to betray her glossy resolve. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Seventeen minutes, and ticking...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just a day earlier, I sucked a breath into constricted lungs as I heard the words "You'll always be my mama. I'm so glad you adopted me." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We share the lump in my throat, she and I.</span></i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Children born to another woman call me Mom. The depth of that tragedy and magnitude of that privilege are not lost on me." ~ Joy Landers</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The clock blinks 12:01, and just like that The Day is done. She and I have checked another day off the calendar. Though I may never again see her this side of Heaven, I carry her with me every day. Oh, I don't keep her picture in my wallet. <i>I keep her heart tucked into mine.</i> How? I hold her despite having the <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2013/11/write-over-wrong.html">wrong arms</a>. I double-check her toothbrushing job. I slice her sandwich from corner to corner. I dive into books and icy cold swimming pools with her. I wince as she wobbles on raised training wheels, and dance when she keeps her balance. I scold when she hits, and I kiss when she hurts. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I look into haunting eyes, wishing that hope had bloomed into possibilities, and possibilities into reality, and reality into wholeness. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Instead there is irreparable brokenness, of which our daughter is the shared fallout. Yes, I love her fiercely, but I wish my love was not necessary in the first place. I wish the woman who loved her first could continue to see her firsts; Her first school day, her first date, her first...everything. Instead, I will be the mama to celebrate those firsts. Those moments are not stolen, nor are they merely borrowed. They are shared in the most intimate, most anguished, and most cherished way possible. And I am grateful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Her arms were, at the same time, perfect and inadequate and beautiful. Her image is too sacred to parade across the screen of some blog. Her face, too precious to squander on blog hits. This is the most you'll ever see of this strong woman:</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Final Embrace</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And it is enough.</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-7600214896099021172014-05-10T08:28:00.001-07:002014-05-10T08:28:40.016-07:00Did That Really Just Happen? (Home Edition)<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because I believe in transparency...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because truth edifies...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because there is power in stories...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But mostly because you'll feel better about yourself...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Did That <i>Really</i> Just Happen? (Home Edition)*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For my domestically-minded readers, may I suggest you take this post with a stiff drink, because you're about to lose all faith in my housery abilities.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. When the Holy Spirit suggests you invite dear friends over, may I suggest you ask Him to remind you that your friend is a vegetarian, and also that chicken enchiladas are <i>not</i> a vegetarian meal? <i>This</i> close to having to serve up PB&J.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. If you find yourself in a position where you will be instructing 20 girls in the mysterious ways of Origami cups, practice <i>much</i>. Measure twice, fold once. Unless you enjoy having 40 eyeballs glued to you while you attempt to decipher 6-step instructions that are clearly meant for people who have a working knowledge of pictures and folding things. BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO FOLD PAPER. This is not rocket science, I assure you. Just. Cups.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. If you are dressing for a casual family event where a certain one year old is going to be climbing all over you for 5 hours, wear a turtleneck. This will eliminate any concerns you may have that your adorable baby will pull your stretchy top until the neckline meets your waistline. It only takes a second, precious readers, to scar your father-in-law.**</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. During remodeling and moving, if you happen to have a screwdriver handy, it will make a poor excuse for a pintail comb. You will use it anyway, because SMOOTH PARTS BE HANGED.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Looking for more blunders? Remodeling has afforded us many a ridiculous moment, which will henceforth be referred to as "blogging fodder". Additional (ahem) <i>transparency</i> is forthcoming. You're welcome. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Smile,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*If you're looking for the <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/09/did-that-really-just-happen.html">Original</a> and <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2013/02/did-that-really-just-happen-parenting.html">Parenting Edition</a>, look no further.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Who may (or may not) avoid sitting facing you for the remainder of the day. It could be coincidence. Yeah, it's probably just coincidence.</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-85367995665998716202014-04-29T19:50:00.001-07:002014-04-29T19:50:11.605-07:00Mommy (rose-tinted) Goggles<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you've been anywhere online this past week, you've probably seen the link for a video by The Skit Guys. </span><a href="http://skitguys.com/videos/item/mom-goggles" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mom Goggles</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has gone viral on social media, as do most videos extolling the virtues of mothers everywhere. If you haven't seen the video clip (SPOILER ALERT), the helpless dads rush order Mom Goggles so as to survive a weekend with the kids while the moms take a much needed weekend getaway. These Mom Goggles supposedly reveal the secrets of motherhood, which include cheering on mediocre art projects, being overprotective, fearlessly changing the most putrid of diapers and expertly folding fitted sheets. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I score one out of four. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don't pour on the compliments for scribbly drawings, I gag when I change especially pungent diapers, and linens go directly back on the beds after laundry </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><strike>day</strike></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> week specifically so that I don't have to fold those possessed fitted sheets.* So basically, I'm guilty of being a tad overprotective. Yay me! </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is where, just like Grandma's giblet gravy, the plot thickens. A lump-in-your-throat phone conversation brings it all the surface. It goes something like this "Thank you, thank you, thank you. How would we ever survive without you? We're all so undeserving of you. Crap the kids are destroying things again." </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, you get the gist of it. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To their credit, The Skit Guys have produced some top-notch videos for fathers too. They have directly addressed the importance of a dad's role in family life, and even touched on sentimental and emotional moments for fathers (not exactly the social norm). And yet, in my admittedly limited perusal of their father videos, I didn't find a single instance where the woman expressed true dependence upon her husband, and apologized for not telling him enough how much she respects him and appreciates all that he does. I'd love to be proved wrong on this one, because The Skit Guys are doing important work and casting a broad net within mainstream evangelical churches. I'm just not sure that men need </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">more</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> reminders to lead their families, work hard, pray more, take the lead, sacrifice, oh and be a leader! </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To summarize, inspirational videos to dads issue a call to rise to a new standard, whereas inspirational videos to moms issue a call to dads to rise to a new standard. I've already hashed out my feelings on The Battle of the Sexes (</span><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/09/battle-of-sexes-part-i.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">part one</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/09/battle-of-sexes-part-deux.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">part two</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">), so I won't bore you with a rehashing. Suffice to say that with an over-inflated view of my role, I would do well to see a few videos reminding me that I'm not "all that" in the home. That I am fortunate to stay at home and should be thankful for a hard-working husband who makes that possible. That I need to be vocalizing my respect and appreciation. It's not wrong to call women out on our uppity attitudes; It's wrong </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to. </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For several years, the Social Opinion of Stay-At-Home Mothers pendulum swung toward belittlement and disregard (I've whined about <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/12/im-just-mom.html">my own experience</a> with this). We've sailed right past the place of balance, and are camped out at the other extreme. Now motherhood is being heralded as the </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HB3xM93rXbY" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">World's Toughest Job</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, complete with no breaks, no life, no food...basically prison life in Sing Sing in the 1800's would be preferable to the back-breaking work of staying at home with children. </span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In reality, there are hundreds of jobs that would be tougher for me to manage. Aside from occupations which are outside the realm of my physical capabilities, there are scores of jobs that I wouldn't last one day on the payroll. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nevertheless...</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lest you think I take my parental role lightly...There is absolutely no other job that can slice me to my very soul. There is no other job where I feel my failure as acutely. There is no other job where the stakes are so high it leaves me on my knees, in His word, seeking counsel, and scouring resources. In that sense, yes, my job is incredibly challenging. However, this burden weighs just as heavily on working moms, and (GASP) dads too. True, dads may not ugly cry over daddy guilt or scroll through parenting blogs for creative discipline methods, but their burden is just as real, just as fierce, and just as deep.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So why, oh why, do we continue to tell mothers, "You are the pinnacle of all society. We salute you." and we tell dads, "Stop sucking. Oh, and lead your families, because it’s biblical." Perhaps it's time to stop swinging wildly from the motherhood pendulums and shift some of our focus onto the Social Opinion of Fathers pendulum. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Can we band together to begin the momentum?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ordering Daddy Goggles,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cynthia</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*...which DO NOT fold flat "like a charm" so just WHATEVER Pinterest.</span></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-20224595320646532442014-04-26T21:39:00.002-07:002014-04-26T21:39:16.742-07:00Yelling At Pregnant Women (and other such nonsense)<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You know those moments that feel surreal, as though you're watching it in Jello time? Things like car wrecks, or watching your favorite coffee mug falling to the floor, subsequently smashing into a bazillion shards.* Or seeing grown men throwing temper tantrums on the playground. Yeah that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Recently, a group of us moms invaded a nearby park. Now, I realize some of you just got a fresh dusting of snow (whatever <i>that</i> is), but we're a month away from flaming hot monkey bars, and only two months away from having our skin melt off if we remain outside for more than 1.3 seconds, so we're frolicking while we still can. Bless it. Anyway, the park. The moms. The scores of kids. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I just assume that parks are a prime location for kids to be kids, and with that comes the typical kerfuffle between a couple munchkins, who are reveling in their barely-sanctified little souls. We've all seen it transpire, right? Joey threw sand directly in Susie's eyeballs. Katie was hogging the swing. Beth pulled Zachary down the slide. Blah, blah, blah. Then follows the Standard Parenting Protocol. Apologies are issued, kids are redirected, boo-boos are kissed, and so on and so forth. I'm not positive, but I think archaeologists have discovered Neanderthal cave drawings depicting these exact scenarios, because when it comes to kids, there is absolutely nothing new under the sun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Enters Tantrum Man. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There's nothing quite as sadly amusing and disconcerting as witnessing grow-ups indulge in a class-act conniption that rivals the toddlers at said park. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After exhausting his cache of insults directed at my friend (who is apparently a no-good excuse for a mother. I did not know this!) and her son (who is apparently on the fast track for prison. You know, after Kindergarten and stuff), he decided her friends must be part of the problem. Apparently, by association, we were enabling her non-motheringness, and we must, therefore, also be welfare-abusing, soap opera addicted, lousy mothers. This was all news to me. My friend handled his tirade with more grace than I could have mustered, had I been in her shoes. After he huffed across the sand, I wanted so desperately to stalk over to him and give him a solid piece of my mind. After all, he had assessed my friend and arrived at his ridiculous conclusion all in the span of a few minutes. Impressive superpower. I wanted to tell him of her surprise pregnancy and how she endures severe migraines (so severe that surgery is in her future to address the issue). I wanted to make him feel guilty for making snap judgments, and insulting her so deeply**. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And that's when I heard it.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Speak words of kindness.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ugh. Of all the times for God to play <i>that</i> card. I double-checked my prepared speech. Nope. No words that passed for kindness. Perhaps if I smiled <strike>through gritted teeth</strike>, it would <i>appear</i> kind and sorta, you know, trick him. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Are you not passing swift judgment as well? Are you not judging the whole based on a mere five minutes too?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Sir, I don't know if you're just having a bad day, or what, but I hope the rest of your day goes well."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wish I could tell you his entire countenance changed and that we had a little Come to Jesus moment,*** but we didn't. He saw an audience for the encore of his scintillating speech, and seized his fleeting opportunity. I walked away, lest I lose my salvation and have to go to Church Camp to find it again. Perhaps it made a difference to him. Perhaps not...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's tremendously easy to retaliate by raising the drawbridge and hurling insults across the moat, especially if the entire village participates.**** It's much more difficult to open the city gate, and offer lodging to your enemy. However, if we spend less time judging and throwing temper tantrums, we may just discover new allies along the way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"If possible, on your part, live at peace with everyone."</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Romans 12:18</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Turns out, there's nothing new under the sun for <i>anybody</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Paddling Across The Moat,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Which you will still find remains of six months later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Despite the fact that I'm pretty confident she could have taken him. Never underestimate the power of a scrappy pregnant woman. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***Complete with The Circle of Trust and six verses of Kumbaya.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">****Please tell me SOMEONE is reciting Monty Python. </span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-49921810287244192342014-03-25T11:42:00.002-07:002014-03-25T11:42:28.165-07:00Is Our Vision Dimming?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70tiJthMhuJPhzyHfEw5RjcGcqRvn0PCq7b8B02Mfhsd2Y6Bc1wQGbteC-ep7LEXyYB3EGvRT6zYb2IoeoadLIfzVSkXiNV9PNxXLnBe9yvgVCoQ1m6Hcc8W0u0JYoW0yN25tIXeUrL4/s1600/eyeglasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70tiJthMhuJPhzyHfEw5RjcGcqRvn0PCq7b8B02Mfhsd2Y6Bc1wQGbteC-ep7LEXyYB3EGvRT6zYb2IoeoadLIfzVSkXiNV9PNxXLnBe9yvgVCoQ1m6Hcc8W0u0JYoW0yN25tIXeUrL4/s1600/eyeglasses.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I find, in my (ahem) young-ish age, that certain things are best viewed over the top of my glasses. Things like needle and thread, words...faces. Basically anything within sixteen inches of my peepers. And also, what's with those tiny pictures on my phone??? I think I'm ready to sit on my front porch and yell at kids to slow down as they careen along the road. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pass the Ensure and prune juice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I may be SLOWLY approaching the need for reading glasses, but something was brought into sharp focus today. In case you aren't stalking the newsstand, <a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2014/march-web-only/world-vision-why-hiring-gay-christians-same-sex-marriage.html">World Vision has loosened their employment requirements</a>. They will now be accepting applications from the gay community (provided they still adhere to World Vision's statement of faith and are in a legally recognized marriage-no cohabitating allowed.). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And starving children in Africa withdrew their applications for sponsorship. "We'll take our chances, thankyouverymuch."* Oh wait. Maybe it was the other way around. Yes. Yes, I think it was. The <i>sponsors</i> are withdrawing their sponsorship. Way to stick it to World Vision.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the one hand I get it. It's a slippery slope (which W.V. denies). However, I have searched all over their <a href="http://www.worldvision.org/">website</a> and, cannot for the life of me, find anything in their mission that says "Our goal is to combat poverty and starvation, insofar as our hiring does not cause conflict with our denomination affiliates and our child sponsors." Yeah, I just don't see it. Their mission is crystal clear:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">World Vision is a Christian humanitarian organization dedicated to working with children, families, and their communities worldwide to reach their full potential by tackling the causes of poverty and injustice.</span></i></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me, but to withdraw financial support for the "widow and orphan" in order to teach W.V. a lesson looks a little white-wash tomb-y and plank-in-the-eye-ish. I've already disclosed the level of performance of my eyeballs, so I'll let you be the judge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I leave you with one last thought:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You pay a tenth of mint, dill, and cumin, yet you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faith. These things should have been done without neglecting the others.<br />Matthew 23:23</span></i></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, <i>that</i> supplies me with 20/20 vision.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Washing Smudges Off My Lenses,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Or at least I <i>think</i> that was the translation.</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-58991717147485388322014-03-03T08:04:00.001-08:002014-03-03T08:04:34.747-08:00The Mundane Grew Claws<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When we shrug indifferently at the mundane, the result may be shocking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've previously shared how altogether bland my <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2014/01/oh-my-word.html">word for 2014 </a>seemed at first glance. You can't convince me that you were jealous of me for plucking <i>Relationships</i> out of the Divine Word Of The Year hat.* I mean really, God. I think I'm ready for something more <i>out there</i>. Something with pizzazz. Something astonishing. Something that says (and this is just a suggestion) "Here is a woman who knows her stuff, has her act together, writes remarkably insightful blog posts, which leave me running to Jesus. And to top it all off, she is supremely humble."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Again, just a suggestion for the Holy Triune Word Review Board.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then, if you will recall, I shared how God basically said, "Shu-up, and watch me work, dimwit." (my paraphrase).**</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And work He did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And something that, two months ago, seemed benign and dispassionate has now displayed its true colors as an untamed creature loosed in my life. This morphed from an indifferent housecat licking its butt to something absolutely otherworldly with razor-sharp claws, which slice easily and swiftly. This creature called <i>Relationships</i> is undernourished, that much is evident. There are obvious signs of neglect. I've barely begun to brush the mats out of its fur. I've tried to harness the thing, to no avail. <i><a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2014/01/resolutions-of-weakness.html">This is clearly going to be a process</a>. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In January, I distinctly knew this was a year to press in with relationships. <i>I shrugged at the mundane.</i> This past week I have been reminded in no uncertain terms that relationships sometimes pack an unpleasant punch; A message, which essentially said, "I'm moving on. It's not me-it's you. You're part of the problem. And, also, I'm jealous of your hair."*** <i>Slice</i>. Okie dokie. I'll stop shrugging now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is part of human nature to desire to have the last word. Now, add ten degrees to that desire, and you'll understand how important it is to firstborns to have the last word. Got that answer in your head? Next step: Add another...ohhhh, pffff...ten...bazillion degrees to that number, and you have arrived where the only-borns hang out. We're all just running around, wild-eyed, shouting the last word to anyone who will listen. Onlies are convinced that the last word is almost as necessary as oxygen (of which we consume at an alarming rate due to our last word shouting).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Two times in the past week, I have <i>not</i> had an opportunity to squeeze in a satisfying last word; No opportunity to defend myself was presented. And I survived. Did you hear that, Onlies? I survived! <i>Another snarl is brushed out of the fur</i>. In one case, a simple message of "I love you" was passed on to a third party, and I have no idea if said message will arrive to the intended ears (much less be warmly accepted). But if that is my only defense and my only last words, are they not the greatest? What more could possibly be said?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why in the world would I choose to share all of this? I assure you, it's not for your pity. If I have learned anything from these two encounters, it is that there are things so much greater than the enviable last word. There is a space filled with humility and submission. Knowing more could have been said to clarify one's position, but in the end recognizing that if a relationship hinges upon a single conversation, the last word is most likely of little value. Sometimes a silent prayer and a surrendered soul to the Relationship Maker is the best move.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Come to think of it, <i>Relationships</i> is exactly what I needed this year. Which makes it astonishing. Quite astonishing, indeed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reading <i>Taming Your Otherworldly Creature for Dummies</i>,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Where exactly <i>does</i> God hang that hat?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Which kinda sums up a lot of the Bible. The rest is essentially "Do what I said, dimwit."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***Anyone who has seen my head knows I made that last bit up. God did not grace me with enviable tresses, because He knew it would be an utter waste of luscious hair, as I pathetically possess <i>zero</i> styling skills. Zilch. Someone please come do my "petite" hair every morning, m'kay? I'll pay you handsomely in sarcastic comments.</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-71790851994740388922014-02-26T19:55:00.001-08:002014-02-27T00:13:30.304-08:00From Rings To Fangs<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is the one where Cynthia got all kinds of political.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God help us all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Literally.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, here's the deal: In case you've just arrived back from Outer Mongolia, and are blissfully clueless (welcome back, by the way), there was this lil' thing called Senate Bill 1062. And everyone and their dog was/is up in arms over it. No really. I actually saw two dogs get in a fight through the fence about the whole thing. It was quite the ordeal. Anyhoo...chances are good that most of you have heard something about the bill, but perhaps you haven't read the bill. It's not tough. Even I understood most of the jargon and legalese. Go <a href="http://www.azcentral.com/ic/pdf/SB-1062-bill.pdf">here</a>, read it, and come back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll wait.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Okie dokie. Now that everyone understands what the bill was saying, let's have a chat, shall we? No? And so it would seem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Two short days ago the nation stood united and proud. Americans from sea to shining sea waved a banner of solidarity. We watched the 2014 Winter Olympics' closing ceremonies. Hearts full, eyes perhaps even glistening, we stood a little straighter. We linked arms and looked on as the Olympic flame was extinguished. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And with it went our decorum.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just take a gander online to find vitriolic words, ignorant words, whiny words, words that are incoherent, superfluous, and even excessive.* I know I have been offended by many a post on good ol' Facebook, as (undoubtedly) you have as well. It should come as little surprise to a single (regular) reader of my blog that I was in favor of the proposed bill.** </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That, my dears, is the end of my political blog post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And the beginning of what truly matters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is an emotionally charged topic, and as such, people are, shall we say, a bit tightly wound. Only one of two outcomes for SB 1062 was possible. Either way, we now find ourselves left with what truly matters. I'm all for Christians in the political arena. I'm all for freedom of speech, allowing us an opportunity to disagree in the public square (be it the State Senate floor, Instagram, or the great land of Twitter). I'm all for passionate debate. I'm all for considering both sides. I'm all for being challenged to know my stuff. Beyond that, I am all for grace. I am all for truth. And I am all for <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2012/08/love.html">love</a>. I have already written on the topic of the <a href="http://cultivatedgraftings.blogspot.com/2013/06/redecorating-closet-door.html">Church and the gay community</a>. That post can very well be extended to the entire LGTB sympathetic crowd. Opposing views do not supersede love. Love is not based on something as flimsy as a bill, nor the opinions behind it. Perhaps Phil Robertson of Duck Dynasty*** has said it best:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone's lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don't have to compromise convictions to be compassionate".</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, as the Eye of Sauron fixates on Arizona, can <i>we</i> all fixate on that which never changes? On the One who is the same, from everlasting to everlasting? For, once we strip away our differences, He is what remains, and His love is what binds us together. Let's link arms yet again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Blessings,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*******It has been brought to my attention that Rick Warren, <i>not</i> Phil Robertson, originally said the above quote. And while Mr. Warren does not have a beard that is theoretically long enough to stick in his own bellybutton, I must give credit where credit is due. So, thank you Pastor Warren for saying smarty-pants stuff despite being so purpose-drivenly clean-shaven, and reality tv-less*******</span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*See what I did there?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**I happen to believe business owners should have some say in their own business. Crazy. For a cheeky, sarcastic breakdown of the bill (complete with his signature inflammatory title), read <a href="http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/02/25/yes-of-course-a-business-owner-should-have-the-right-to-refuse-service-to-gay-people/">Matt Walsh's blog post</a>. Also, he employs the word "gasbag". Am I the only one amused by this? If Mr. Walsh seems like a grumpy-pants, try <a href="http://biblicalframework.com/wading-into-the-sb1062-debate/">John Correia's post</a> on the bill. He's devoid of grumpy pants. Bonus: He references Star Wars. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***I've never viewed the show, and I must know: Is it possible to watch it without being riveted to The Beards?</span>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3939381975660007735.post-37402222406888421902014-02-12T15:51:00.002-08:002014-02-12T15:51:28.003-08:00Jumping In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Carefree days of jumping on the trampoline. Somersaults, bone-jarring games of "crack the egg", challenging yourself to new heights. Plopping down, exhilarated and spent from the effort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't we all just <i>love</i> us some January?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Climbing down the three steps to the ground, bending at the knees, springing up with enthusiasm. Feeling a moment of familiar trajectory, only to meet the ground with a shocking jolt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aaaaand welcome to February.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Resolve weakens, taxes beckon, Christmas decorations positively taunt you.* Not to pick on the runt of the litter, but February is kinda...well, blah. If drippy candles and sappy poems are your thing, then I guess it (and Hallmark) have something to offer. But one day of roses and waxy chocolates hardly make up for the twenty-seven Charlie Brown days that I sense hovering over this month.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We have an innate sense that we have been created for more than we currently are. It's the entire reason resolutions and fresh starts appeal to us. We know there's always room for improvement, and we oftentimes desire to work toward a better self. We gain a confident rhythm in January, and then mean ol' February reminds us that we're finite, and as such, positive changes are not handed to us on a silver platter. We lose our momentum and hit the ground with a most unpleasant jolt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't know what you're struggling uphill to conquer, but I know this: February doesn't call the shots, and the trampoline is still there. Let's climb back on and try a teensy-weensy lil' bunny hop. We'll catch our stride and gain our momentum again-you'll see. You want to run a marathon? One foot in front of the other. You've got your eye on a promotion? Show 'em you've got what it takes. Writing your doctoral thesis? One page at a time. Committing to a cleaner house? Grab the duster. Desire to be saturated in The Word and experience a power-filled prayer life? Get on your knees. Want to stop snapping at your kids? Take a deep breath and count to ten (or, if you've some Irish blood, 100).**</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">February, you don't own us. We're unlacing our sneakers, and eyeing those springs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Stocking-footed friends, let's do this. Flex those muscles, try not to clobber fellow jumpers, and remember: Don't lock your knees. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Get Ready To Soar,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cynthia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Alright, maybe not you, but let's just assume <i>some</i> oblivious people (who <i>clearly</i> don't own a calendar) are unaware that they have to haul all that stuff back out in a mere nine months. Somebody remind me what an aneurysm feels like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**Before all the Irish defenders rise up in mutiny, just RELAX. I'm touting my own Irish veins over here.</span></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02084684651293339647noreply@blogger.com0