tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53670172079577652982024-03-13T13:32:42.312-07:00Until we rest in Thee.....Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-82995670817305932782022-06-19T09:08:00.009-07:002022-06-19T10:22:06.548-07:00Hang on! <p><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: georgia; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Family pic." border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4KLU2ZvG67zSvF_ChM9qtx4Aa-WU47_dYYrDAm_bUg-Tpkcx-BivcXtXqjeZqLp_jspMD3k_ps6_o0H-w-r7TRxdM8YbbuQOKWZjBM8q41fY3OdYTPvv97Xz7ecnoGUnOlKd71zlPeBdkvaV-ZpKTHWL44IkjOt5JTjxCdgvkcJhxebLjxDkHeGa/w320-h240/278000955_10222882992806133_11986917848568231_n.jpg" width="320" /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hark, the voice of Jesus crying,</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Who will go and work today?</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fields are ripe and harvests waiting;</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">who will bear the sheaves away?” (LSB 826)</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4KLU2ZvG67zSvF_ChM9qtx4Aa-WU47_dYYrDAm_bUg-Tpkcx-BivcXtXqjeZqLp_jspMD3k_ps6_o0H-w-r7TRxdM8YbbuQOKWZjBM8q41fY3OdYTPvv97Xz7ecnoGUnOlKd71zlPeBdkvaV-ZpKTHWL44IkjOt5JTjxCdgvkcJhxebLjxDkHeGa/s2048/278000955_10222882992806133_11986917848568231_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">It is Father’s day and I am sitting at home with the kids doing my vocational duties as wife and mother. My husband is in a town 6 hours away and wont be back home until the festival day is over. My own father is way too far away and I don’t even know when I will get to see him again. I do what I can but I can’t help but feel sorry for where I am at.</span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">I try to turn my attention to something else and I put on my home congregation worship and watch on-line. The hymn “Hark, the Voice of Jesus Crying” was the hymn of the day and all I could think was; “I want to go home!” I used to love that hymn! I used to feel convicted, compelled, and called when we would sing that hymn, now I feel the weight of the law. Living over seas and doing my best each day to keep two little children alive and survive the demands of living within the Church, I would say I feel burdened more than called.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">It is a wonderful thing faith is not based on our feelings. It has been over two years now since the last time I have been able to see my family and every day the news paints my home in such a way that makes me wonder what I will be coming back to when and if I do get to come home. With each passing day it becomes my desire to do just that; “go home.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">I confess that when I listen to sermons I often get lost in the text and dissect it in my head; my poor husband is well acquainted with this flaw. It is a flaw from studying theology and sometimes a saving grace to be able to preach law and gospel to my own soul. Today the text talked about the demon possessed man who was healed by Christ and sought to follow him as a response to being healed. Christ’s response was; “Go home.” Obviously there is more to that text but that was what my heart and mind clung to. “Go home.” Why were those the words my mind spoke during the great missional hymn and the same spoken in the Gospel? Perhaps because it is what we all need to hear in one way or another.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADJIzN47UhnR7cRDvmsr-CQwto61rIYNxP9-Z92VscgMSSzwAWsVzXJ9LH6Y0sJaqilXZV39GkoGsDPdYOyTVds0ciN5QbnBa7C4kGMdN6Y0IJ3YYzLhxIgsZZvJvLBBdBjp815MsuJHgEtrJBY2mnKAuqqgEa8eUEs0GRPRsaVp2GTsnDPAyh2AM/s1000/6a3338-20131023-cat-hanging.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="801" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADJIzN47UhnR7cRDvmsr-CQwto61rIYNxP9-Z92VscgMSSzwAWsVzXJ9LH6Y0sJaqilXZV39GkoGsDPdYOyTVds0ciN5QbnBa7C4kGMdN6Y0IJ3YYzLhxIgsZZvJvLBBdBjp815MsuJHgEtrJBY2mnKAuqqgEa8eUEs0GRPRsaVp2GTsnDPAyh2AM/s320/6a3338-20131023-cat-hanging.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Recently I have been crying at communion more and my ever mounting list of prayers has been reduced to “Come Lord Jesus! Please Come and take us home!” The fields seem as though they have been taken over with thorns, the hired help is at a loss for what is the most important task at this point and we would take a simple word of comfort and good news to our heavy hearts as opposed to a command of “Work! Work more! Keep working!” (cities lie waste without inhabitant, and houses without people, and the land is a desolate waste -Is. 6:11). Home looks really good.</span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Perhaps what we all need to hear is; “hang on!” I am starting to think that in this day and age, what we need most is to hold on tight to Jesus because the boat is rocking and the waves are crashing. There is precious little that we can do apart from clinging to Jesus because in the end, it is Jesus who will bring us home. No enlistment, no quota, you are probably doing enough if all you can do is fix your eyes on Jesus, and that is your witness. Struggling though life, though doubt, through troubles and turmoils while focusing on Jesus is enough to shine a light in a darkened world.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Home is near, and Christ is nearer. Hang on to Him, it is enough.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><h1 class="passage-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; width: 316.672px;"><div aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="listbox" aria-labelledby="dropdown-16c8d" class="bcv d-container go2538389840" id="dropdown-16c8d" role="button" style="align-items: center; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-weight: 400; margin: 0px 16px 0px 0px; min-width: auto; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 0%; justify-content: space-between; min-width: 0px; padding-right: 20px; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 Corinthians 5:1-4</span></div><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0px;">Our Heavenly Dwelling</span></div><div class="dropdown-icon" style="box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px 4px; min-width: 0px; padding: 0px; position: absolute; right: 0px; top: 0px; white-space: nowrap;" tabindex="0"><svg height="6.5" viewbox="0 0 11.5 6.5" width="11.5" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><span style="font-size: small;"><path d="M11.28.22a.75.75 0 0 0-1.06 0L5.75 4.69 1.28.22A.75.75 0 0 0 .22 1.28l5 5a.73.73 0 0 0 .53.22.74.74 0 0 0 .53-.22l5-5a.75.75 0 0 0 0-1.06z"></path></span></svg></div></div><span class="d-root" style="font-size: small;"></span></div></h1><div class="passage-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; line-height: 1.7em; margin-top: 50px; min-width: 0px;"><div class="passage-content passage-class-0" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><div class="version-ESV result-text-style-normal text-html" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><p class="chapter-1" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 2.4rem; min-width: 0px;"><span class="text 2Cor-5-1">For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.</span> <span class="text 2Cor-5-2" id="en-ESV-28863"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">2 </span>For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling,</span> <span class="text 2Cor-5-3" id="en-ESV-28864"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">3 </span>if indeed by putting it on<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-ESV-28864a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-ESV-28864a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]" style="display: inline; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Corinthians+5%3A1-4&version=ESV#fen-ESV-28864a" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #4a4a4a; min-width: 0px; vertical-align: text-top;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</span> we may not be found naked.</span> <span class="text 2Cor-5-4" id="en-ESV-28865"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">4 </span>For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.</span></p></div></div></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p>Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-54803045814046292952021-09-21T14:29:00.005-07:002021-09-21T18:35:12.111-07:00 Water, Word, and Warfare <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none;">"Johann means “Yahweh is gracious” (from Hebrew “yo/</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">יֹו</span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none;">”, abbreviation of “yeho/</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">יְהוֹ</span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none;">” = referring to the Hebrew God + “ḥanán/</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">חָנַן</span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-kerning: none;">” = to show favor/to be gracious)."</span></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s3" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none; text-decoration-line: underline;"><a href="https://charlies-names.com/en/johann/">https://charlies-names.com/en/johann/</a></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">First, we would like to humbly thank everyone who prayed for us while we passed through everything with Johann. We are thankful for all the prayers during </span>labor and for all those who prayed for him two weeks after his birth while we were hospitalized. It has certainly been more activity in the first month of life than we anticipated. The following is some of the realizations I had while I was with Johann throughout the two weeks of hospitalization.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOd4534Y2-sZPa9epBTrU1uuMUFCCe2Z6eG3VBJZrz48cgPp9O-Hieki52W_IoZ0NMV4Pt3dnZC4vyt3Ro6ffltWABFPQdrN0BDmHGn9Amr5dgh3xfrc13Umnhx3IJylEvGtr3aah-TY/s6000/DSC_0125.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOd4534Y2-sZPa9epBTrU1uuMUFCCe2Z6eG3VBJZrz48cgPp9O-Hieki52W_IoZ0NMV4Pt3dnZC4vyt3Ro6ffltWABFPQdrN0BDmHGn9Amr5dgh3xfrc13Umnhx3IJylEvGtr3aah-TY/s320/DSC_0125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">We choose the name Johann for its meaning. We wanted our children’s names to reflect a spiritual pilgrimage dependent upon God. Johann was conceived after a miscarriage and a year of covid-19. He indeed is a reflection to us of God’s grace and it is our hope and prayer that he reflects this for others throughout his life. However we are quickly discovering that God’s grace sometimes doesn’t seem all good and just. His grace, sometimes, comes in the midst of suffering.</span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">We had planned a water birth for Johann but were doubtful at one point if we would even be able to have him naturally. Johann pushed the time limit allowed from when my water broke to when he was born. It was 66 hours of wakefulness and praying that our baby wouldn’t have to be born by emergency cesarian. Johann was born into infected waters. The remedy would come two weeks later. We thanked the Lord for His grace in the midst of labor and delivery and that we were able to bring Johann into the world as a family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">We wanted Johann to be baptized shortly after birth as a way of making confession of how we understand God’s graciousness; that He would bury us in Christ and give us new life without any of our own merit or doing. Of Johann’s godparents, only one was able to come for the baptism, and she was confirmed Lutheran only a few weeks before to enjoy a fuller communion with her godchild and a better understanding of how we hope to raise our child. At the last minute, by circumstances outside our control, her arrival was delayed to a week later and so was Johann’s baptism.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9uNj6d9W66KD87GHKCfgZ8gmEh3sG6b2Xo8s19r_DbOabVH-hvpC-eXxN-_HPA4LaavtiSWBKxvWiSq4bNRqfKwSjyRt8EyEECpMXmSaH6kK1c6oGm-VzHG6y_NWn6iDGSnMLIN8W0I/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9uNj6d9W66KD87GHKCfgZ8gmEh3sG6b2Xo8s19r_DbOabVH-hvpC-eXxN-_HPA4LaavtiSWBKxvWiSq4bNRqfKwSjyRt8EyEECpMXmSaH6kK1c6oGm-VzHG6y_NWn6iDGSnMLIN8W0I/" width="320" /></a>We were able to rejoice in a second water birth two weeks after the first. Johann was baptized and it was a joyous celebration. The next day however, Johann was with a very high fever and by divine providence the midwife made an unplanned visit (she was supposed to come one day earlier). She sent us directly to the hospital with little Johann so he could get medical attention. We were caught off guard completely and if left on our own we probably would have waited for the fever to go down not realizing how serious it could be. As many already know, Johann had a bacterial infection that the doctors said in most cases can come from the birthing process. While every precaution can be taken it’s never a sure and certain thing that illnesses and infections have been avoided.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpPajJ0Zq1vNwAM_NHoPAnrP0xhG00Nh0oTq-Jxr7zBWg_0dHb8dPLKi2mdobSvGQPRG6OBgL-DVR8o4nOjyq8o0Ql59tukM-AUeDNLsSlKd22eXJo4C6zo7N_hH9RbhwKU3iCntXOQM/s2048/IMG_2213.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpPajJ0Zq1vNwAM_NHoPAnrP0xhG00Nh0oTq-Jxr7zBWg_0dHb8dPLKi2mdobSvGQPRG6OBgL-DVR8o4nOjyq8o0Ql59tukM-AUeDNLsSlKd22eXJo4C6zo7N_hH9RbhwKU3iCntXOQM/s320/IMG_2213.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">So we prayed again for the safe delivery of our son. The terrifying thing for me was holding a sick child who had recently ascended from the waters of holy baptism while trusting that even if the worst came to pass, my child had already been delivered. He was and is saved by the grace of God and that is terrifying. Just as I believe we don’t make a choice in our salvation, we don’t get to choose when we are called home to be with Christ. I didn’t want to face the reality of my confession; that I believe that God holds my child safe within His care and that even if I should loose him, God will “fold him to His breast, there within His arms to rest.” I didn’t want God’s grace in that moment, I wanted my son. I cried to God through the whole first night of our hospital stay until my eyelids were swollen.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">It is difficult to believe that even while walking through the hell of caring for a helpless sick child, God is present, and yet it is the promise He gives us in baptism. There were moments I didn’t know how to pray or what to pray because I didn’t want to acknowledge the same gracious God who gave His only son to save us could be the same God that would make me depend on that grace while suffering the loss of my own son. Johann lives, and I am thankful for the mercy God showed us while in treatment. I do have a new understanding of God’s grace and pray that I can grow to see it not as something to be feared for what I can temporarily loose but as goodness in all moments. God is indeed gracious, He forgives and grants life, and He hears the prayers of the saints when we don’t know how to pray. Again, thank you all so much for your prayers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><h1 class="passage-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; width: 316.672px;"><div aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="listbox" aria-labelledby="dropdown-3110b" class="translation d-container go2538389840" id="dropdown-3110b" role="button" style="align-items: center; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-weight: 400; margin: 0px 16px 0px 0px; min-width: auto; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 0%; justify-content: space-between; min-width: 0px; padding-right: 20px; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;">This</span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"> </span><i style="font-size: 1.6rem;">hope</i><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"> </span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;">we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast,</span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"> </span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;">and which enters the</span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"> </span><i style="font-size: 1.6rem;">Presence</i><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"> </span><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;">behind the veil </span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="font-size: 1.6rem;">Hebrews 6:19</span></div><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 1.6rem; min-width: 0px;"><div aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="listbox" aria-labelledby="dropdown-ee47b" class="bcv d-container go2538389840" id="dropdown-ee47b" role="button" style="align-items: center; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-size: 1.6rem; margin: 0px 16px 0px 0px; min-width: auto; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 0%; justify-content: space-between; min-width: 0px; padding-right: 20px; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-icon" style="box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px 4px; min-width: 0px; padding: 0px; position: absolute; right: 0px; top: 0px; white-space: nowrap;" tabindex="0"><svg height="6.5" viewbox="0 0 11.5 6.5" width="11.5" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><path d="M11.28.22a.75.75 0 0 0-1.06 0L5.75 4.69 1.28.22A.75.75 0 0 0 .22 1.28l5 5a.73.73 0 0 0 .53.22.74.74 0 0 0 .53-.22l5-5a.75.75 0 0 0 0-1.06z"></path></svg></div></div><span class="d-root"></span></div><div aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="listbox" aria-labelledby="dropdown-3110b" class="translation d-container go2538389840" id="dropdown-3110b" role="button" style="align-items: center; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-size: 1.6rem; margin: 0px 16px 0px 0px; min-width: auto; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 0%; justify-content: space-between; min-width: 0px; padding-right: 20px; position: relative;"><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; min-width: 0px;">NKJV</div></div></div></div><div class="dropdown-display-text" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 1.6rem; min-width: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 1.6rem;"><br /></span></div></div></div></h1>Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-38140462244349150722020-11-17T13:47:00.003-08:002020-11-17T13:47:42.429-08:00 This is the way.<p><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">2 Corinthians 3:18</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeGWBi8fPAtUTAdIwygkg4asDjZ0vfDU9V4PjQ3O85uI1XaNq1nBXIl1VMqR8dhCaa41wLU42Hfl1sYxcTllYujH8gxZTwlEIMCyY3Womu1nhZ0d3C2SStTYJlEvwPjZ1IkChjCtlfT8/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeGWBi8fPAtUTAdIwygkg4asDjZ0vfDU9V4PjQ3O85uI1XaNq1nBXIl1VMqR8dhCaa41wLU42Hfl1sYxcTllYujH8gxZTwlEIMCyY3Womu1nhZ0d3C2SStTYJlEvwPjZ1IkChjCtlfT8/" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">My husband and I started watching ‘The Mandalorian’ at the start of quarantine. If you don’t know much about the series, it follows the Star Wars genera and is about a sect of people called “The Mandalorians.” The Mandalorians are people who wear a very specific type of armor and are generally contracted bounty hunters. They have a code that each Mandalorian is to follow and one of the rules is that they are to never show their face. Whenever asked to take off their armor or why they do things the way they do, a Mandalorian’s response is always; “This is the way.” </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I wonder if the writers of the Mandalorian knew what 2020 had in store. I imagine that this series might help children feel safe and empowered behind masks. I have to admit that I hate masks, in fact I would rather get Covid for two weeks at its worst than to have to use a mask for the next year. The mask for me has caused discomfort, difficulty breathing, anxiety, and even facial irritation, and that is just on a personal level. Externally, it seems that in the past ten months we have been dehumanizing one another, name calling and lumping everyone into groups of “selfish,” “reckless,” or “self righteous”. The masks have become more of a symbol for individuals to identify where they stand in this pandemic as opposed to a simple aid in preventing the spread of a virus. Masks have become a dividing line for many, and perhaps given confidence to others to fight battles they otherwise wouldn’t fight. For me the mask represents oppression, I would shut up and deal with it if the statistics made sense and showed that they were in fact preventing the spread. Instead, the mask has become a power trip, a moral high ground, an anxiety inducer, and an obligatory pain in the butt for so many. This is the way. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQZJQ82FF7kcdKE0nm4Jr4aoj8qC_xfR-CHXIG1S_MJnarhPWg0tPaJRx3Xhi6i3_7LbPJNR_86UWLguzCzMJMhQKFVmI94H0SAUecbruQTdfewxhiIp7Z_HkluiWCGNp1qN2LZ_npJA/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="408" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQZJQ82FF7kcdKE0nm4Jr4aoj8qC_xfR-CHXIG1S_MJnarhPWg0tPaJRx3Xhi6i3_7LbPJNR_86UWLguzCzMJMhQKFVmI94H0SAUecbruQTdfewxhiIp7Z_HkluiWCGNp1qN2LZ_npJA/" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mask on during preaching</td></tr></tbody></table><br />This past Sunday was the first time our church gathered (legally) since last March. My husband had to sign an agreement with the government of Argentina back in March. The agreement basically stated that he had been informed of the new laws and that the church could be fined and shut down should they fail to comply with the laws (holding worship was against the law at the time). The laws are constantly changing and as of recent we have been allowed to reopen the church under certain limitations. There are several rules in place including; no more than 10 people in the church, the windows must be open, there must be a towel on the floor covered in bleach at the entrance, and accessible hand sanitizer. In addition, everyone must practice social distancing, and wear a mask (even the pastor, at all times). I expected this day to be a day of rejoicing as the body of Christ reunited and joined together under one head. Instead, it was rushed, due to a law mandating we allow 30 minutes of vacancy in the church between activities. I was going to take a stand and not go to worship since I didn't want to worship with a mask on but I recalled a valid point stating; "If you have an excuse for not going to church, you probably weren't going for the right reasons in the first place." I felt out of breath saying the Lord’s prayer and creed behind a mask, my mouth and skin have been breaking out which makes it even more uncomfortable. We are getting into summer so we are all uncomfortably sweating behind our masks. What should be a time focusing on the Word of God and a time to boldly confess Christ and the many and various ways He has and continues to care for us, has become a pageantry of “who wears it best” or rather; who is most faithful to God and government? The pastor is difficult to hear as the members fidget with their masks. We no longer see each other unveiled but hidden behind masks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The mask for me is representative of a law that has held back worshipers from enjoying hymns of praise without baited breath and to hear the word of God without strained and labored ears. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: trebuchet;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWka4nXCdThczFxjBZhcQNQDZEYTSHdLfbuXfylNwr3_nGuUbzclaQtGDVEYnSPJNxoUvTjVyea11RTtfp9T8ERGuZ-8PtIGDsn-DJzqq9sY8p-FyKa8SRWeAP6QKnSlz0WuV5h2z3XfQ/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="223" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWka4nXCdThczFxjBZhcQNQDZEYTSHdLfbuXfylNwr3_nGuUbzclaQtGDVEYnSPJNxoUvTjVyea11RTtfp9T8ERGuZ-8PtIGDsn-DJzqq9sY8p-FyKa8SRWeAP6QKnSlz0WuV5h2z3XfQ/" width="191" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">After the worship I did as I have been doing for most of the pandemic, I put on my home congregation’s<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span>worship service and I cleaned my kitchen. As each hymn I knew was played on the organ I sang at the top of my lungs unencumbered by the unsanitary, and ungodly piece of cloth I am required to wear in public but not in crowded restaurants. I sang as if the words we were singing should usher in the second coming of Christ. I sang as if by singing with God’s people our healing was being imposed upon us with far greater welcome than the imposition of all the laws put before us. I sang, remembering that we await a better country, that this is not all that there is. We sing together even though we are far apart recalling that one day, laws, borders, and governments shall be destroyed and we will live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness forever.<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Come quickly, King of kings!</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The King shall come when morning dawns and light triumphant breaks, When beauty gilds the eastern hills and life to joy awakes.</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Not as of old a little child, to bear and fight and die, but crowned with glory like the sun that lights the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>morning sky.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Oh brighter than the rising morn when Christ, victorious, rose and left the lonesome place of death despite the rage of foes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Oh brighter than that glorious morn shall dawn upon our race the day when Christ in splendor comes and we shall see His face.</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The king shall come when morning dawns and light and beauty brings. Hail, Christ the Lord! Your people pray: Come quickly, King of kings!</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">LSB 348</span></span></p>Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-350253699115198242020-09-17T13:20:00.005-07:002020-09-17T13:38:41.695-07:00Cuties in the Middle <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoO6uQgMXNQGpKA7cPVjw9UiTKSoA35zh6bQKUZbxFiIDixem86p-JqgU4Z8M0X7fkvBJwCJ3ZdG3HjiHhTmjFFMxeAvKDDb_z4hTgnM55ujfuB76Yz_m39bL9QaXOQo1NJUq2AV05ato/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="147" data-original-width="320" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoO6uQgMXNQGpKA7cPVjw9UiTKSoA35zh6bQKUZbxFiIDixem86p-JqgU4Z8M0X7fkvBJwCJ3ZdG3HjiHhTmjFFMxeAvKDDb_z4hTgnM55ujfuB76Yz_m39bL9QaXOQo1NJUq2AV05ato/" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">My father used to tell me “There are always two sides to a story and somewhere in the middle is truth.” Do you remember the film “</span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">Precious</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">?” To refresh your memory it was a film that came out i</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">n 2009. The synopsis of the film from the IMDB is as follows; “In New York City's Harlem circa 1987, an overweight,</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">abused, illiterate teen who is pregnant with her second child is invited to enroll in an alternative school in hopes that her life can head in a new dir</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">ection.”</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I remember there being a viewing party for <i>Precious</i> in David commons when I was studying at CUNE. I remember thinking and feeling jolted for the content of the film. I watched “Cuties” last night, probably because many are yelling in indignation about the film. When I hear “Don’t do that” I automatically have to do it. I must say, I didn’t feel as jolted for the the content of Cuties as I did for Precious or for oth</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">er films that were supposed to be for entertainment.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I understand if as a Christian we believe it is our duty to bash potentially corrosive materials for the edification and the raising up of morals within society. After all, we are called to lift each other up with Pslams and hymns of praise. I would however encourage you to investigate what you are knocking down and examine yourself before judging something based only on what you have heard and not what you know.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Consider the book; “Reviving Ophelia- Saving the selves of adolescent girls.” American clinical psychologist; Mary Pipher wrote a book in 1994 including case studies of adolescent girls she would see</span></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in her office. In 2019 a new edition was released celebrating the 25th anniversary of her book (I would encourage you to read the interview for that book put out by NPR as it is very informative: (<a href="https://www.npr.org/2019/06/30/737478316/reviving-ophelia-turns-25"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">https://www.npr.org/2019/06/30/737478316/reviving-ophelia-turns-25</span></a>). Mary Pipher brought to light the very things director and screen writer Maïmouna Doucouré was trying to bring to light in her movie “Cuties.” Yes, that is correct! The director and screen writer wasn’t some cheese puff stained pervert who gets off watching 10 year old girls twerking. The film was written and directed by a Senegales</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: medium;">e woman raised in France. I would also encourage you to read her opinion piece put out by the Washington Post: ( </span><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/cuties-director-maimouna-doucoure-why-i-made-the-film/2020/09/15/7e0ee406-f78b-11ea-a275-1a2c2d36e1f1_story.html" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/cuties-director-maimouna-doucoure-why-i-made-the-film/2020/09/15/7e0ee406-f78b-11ea-a275-1a2c2d36e1f1_story.html</span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;">).</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In her opinion piece for the Post, Maïmouna Doucouré mentions that she was trying to address an issue in society that she hoped would stimulate a discussion and not be knocked down by a “cancel culture” mentality. She handled the film being careful and mindful of the young actre</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">sses even hiring psychologists to be on site to care for any needs of the crew. I would argue that Cuties is nothing more than a more contemporary investigation of what our young girls are being exposed to. It does not glorify young girls having sex and becoming sex idols.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Things to consider before adopting a “Cancel culture” position on Cuties:</b></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Know the culture- I recall while living abroad, seeing 3 year old children dancing quite suggestively. The parents laughed and made videos of the spectacle to share with friends. The children were mimicking what they saw in their culture without understanding. That is clearly depicted in the film. In addition for a French film, Cuties is quite clean (for a French film mind you). </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Know yourself- Why even bring this junk to light and watch an hour and half of some girls life falling apart at only 10? Because we live in a culture that needs to be entertained and chances are you wouldn’t watch a documentary. Do you enjoy Game of Thrones, Outlander, Weeds, Breaking Bad, Umbre</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: medium;">lla Academy or almost anything on Netflix these days? There are far more corrosive shows and films that we watch that disguise “grooming” as entertainment. I don’t know about you but I have to put limits on what I watch if I want to sleep well at night. My everyday life fills my head with enough things to fill my dreams with. Are you against the film? If so, is it based on facts and truths reflected in your personal life? </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Know the agenda by knowing the source: (Netflix wasn’t the creator of this film even though they are responsible for streaming and presenting a lot of <b><i>junk</i></b>). The film takes place in France where there are different expectations and standards of public exposer (Think of all the historical art that everyone is exposed to on a daily basis). The film was born as a response to young girls dancing inappropriately in public and being objectified. The project was approved by the French go</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">vernment’s child protection authorities as it addressed a cultural issue, it was not a film to promote the behavior among young. This film did what it was supposed to in France, what makes the States different?</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p>
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<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqp4my6z6-40vOFzySVXN0xLVHcWfw8NFMzVLIOMw-oEJa3QgEui4J5rB4VfEGMME23nwYcmGM9IzUsIqm0JdH6g7N2AadukL997MbExuUSXtNq0lAAG0Ypoo5s3zQP4kRA2KMID3CXM/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqp4my6z6-40vOFzySVXN0xLVHcWfw8NFMzVLIOMw-oEJa3QgEui4J5rB4VfEGMME23nwYcmGM9IzUsIqm0JdH6g7N2AadukL997MbExuUSXtNq0lAAG0Ypoo5s3zQP4kRA2KMID3CXM/" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have to admit that I found the film interesting, not as entertainment but informative. There were the disturbing scenes that you have probably heard about where a 10 year old girl objectifies herself and tries to use her undiscovered sexuality to solve her life problems however, it is not glorified like you might think. Those disturbing scenes come with shame and disgust that is communicated in the responses of the other actors. It is depicted in all its brokenness and awkwardness of a prepubescent tween unwittingly mimicking what she </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">sees in society. It isn’t as uplifting and cute as Troop Zero, but it touches on the real issues addressed in Reviving Ophelia. The film is depicting where grooming is coming from, I wouldn’t say it is the one doing the grooming.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span>I’m not advising you to go and watch this film, in fact I would encourage you to abstain especially if you don’t want to thi</span></span><span>nk about the way society and culture creeps in and robs children of their innocence. I certainly would not allow children to see it and I think the director of the film would agree. I am encouraging you to seek the middle by being informed. I am also encouraging my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ to remember what we are called to and what that means for how we interact with worldly things. Sometimes we cast down people who are fighting with us because we don’t understand their methods or the platform from which they stand. At the end of the day, as a Christian, I try to err on the side of edifying others with Biblical truth, however I know I have and do fail on a daily basis. Look up Colossians 3 or Ephesians 5 for meditation</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span></p>
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<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Colossians 3:16</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>16 </b></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.</span></span></p>Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-60270009995056995772020-03-11T14:48:00.000-07:002020-09-17T13:25:56.515-07:00Alleluia's in Lent II (Never Forsaken) <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">It feels like fall here. My grandpa died in the fall of 2016 and my grandma died this past Monday. In my mind, they both died in the fall. Grandpa in September (fall in the States) and Grandma in March (fall in Argentina). My grandma was a God fearing woman and I know she is with her Lord. My heart does not mourn the victory she has gained in her death; she lived a long full life. My heart is heavy because I said goodbye to my baby on Monday as well. The day started with a loss and ended with a loss. We were ten weeks pregnant and looking forward to delivering this baby in what would have been fall in the States; spring in Argentina. I can get pretty lost in time here in Argentina. I have to remind myself what month we are in and the weather often betrays me. We are hot in December and cold in July. I suppose my baby was a little confused too and didn’t realize that it was supposed to wait until it would be fall in the states, not in Argentina. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I was excited about our timeline. I was already anticipating bringing our family back to the states in October to celebrate Octoberfest, halloween, my sister’s birthday and the new baby’s first birthday. I was getting the house ready to fit one more tiny human. I was planning how to tell family and friends. I was not anticipating another miscarriage, especially with every day of progress. It is such a cruel thing to loose a child in the first trimester especially when all the symptoms of early pregnancy are the worst and we endure and push through with the hope of holding a child at the end. My timeline for the next seven months was all set. It is hard to believe that God had a different timeline that includes my suffering. It is hard to believe because I don’t believe that He does that, His timeline is not so sadistic. I have to believe that my suffering will one day give birth to joy even if I can’t see it now. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I’m no better at this than I was with my first miscarriage. I don’t really even feel any wiser. A great difference between my first miscarriage and this one is that I feel more supported this time. It can be hard to reach out and tell people what is going on when you know that the road to joy could take a sharp left and leave you at a dead end of grief. Yesterday a missionary friend checked up on me regularly all day. Last night I cried with my parents, my aunt, and my sister. This morning I found messages from my brother and sister-in-law. My husband held me, and my daughter wiped away my tears and told me not to cry. I hugged my sweet little girl and remembered God’s mercy in the midst of my last miscarriage and the joy He gave us in our sweet little Evangelina. I recall His promises and His faithfulness and I feel peace. My soul still mourns and magnifies the Lord at the same time. My spirit longs for restoration and rejoices in God my Savior. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">Revelation 21:4</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> New King James Version (NKJV)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>4 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBJymZK-Kxh4MQtzXpVk5NMN8jYaMbwkMkbGClA9CzJe4sDIxwIs_AgfJoHWvllVyEY4l3x7YugUMLe9iYzTctVRqW64dxrKrtD3ITdb7jMnjdSF7KkGqKJv-93QQLszWZ1-nngxRDKI/s1600/87666106_193069202020536_8863713842014715904_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBJymZK-Kxh4MQtzXpVk5NMN8jYaMbwkMkbGClA9CzJe4sDIxwIs_AgfJoHWvllVyEY4l3x7YugUMLe9iYzTctVRqW64dxrKrtD3ITdb7jMnjdSF7KkGqKJv-93QQLszWZ1-nngxRDKI/s320/87666106_193069202020536_8863713842014715904_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture of my mom caring for her mom in her last days (because I don't have any pictures of the baby) </td></tr>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-8749809489072911712019-12-18T04:11:00.002-08:002019-12-18T04:22:39.589-08:00I look to the Cross. <div style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I remember in Seminary when the head of the library was orienting us to how the Library on campus worked. He made a joke saying; “If you are looking for periodicals, all you have to do is just as King David did when he said; I look to the hills, where comes my help.” He then pointed to an impressive amount of boxes stored above the book shelves. That pairing of scripture with something that frightened me; research, calmed my anxieties and made the task seem less daunting. I love libraries for the solitude and peace they can offer, but the insurmountable information they contain can be daunting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Very recently, the Latin American Lutheran community has been mourning the death of a beloved shepherd. A Venezuelan pastor was murdered in a way that can only be described as horrific and at the hands of pure evil. The news has shaken many and saddened all within the Lutheran community. The amount of unanswered questions is terrifying. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Much of Latin America is suffering economic crisis but the forerunner and the country suffering the most is Venezuela. Due to economic and governmental crisis, it is difficult to say why a Lutheran pastor may have been a target, but the pastor isn’t the only target. The church at large in Venezuela is under attack. “Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter.” Matthew 26:31. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBmrna7IvvUbQrzXK0WpIw0gu0wqPfkqib6KqfrDFtiUBp8SeQDlRpZo5f5nkC73vvbTkqeVOI9HZJH_e8iegBJcfzB8Qmld8cTU6b_DmYotBFVh6qGbyxNJNXKy4EkDO_SElz2n03rk/s1600/17884205_775647732610461_8225047709019966113_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBmrna7IvvUbQrzXK0WpIw0gu0wqPfkqib6KqfrDFtiUBp8SeQDlRpZo5f5nkC73vvbTkqeVOI9HZJH_e8iegBJcfzB8Qmld8cTU6b_DmYotBFVh6qGbyxNJNXKy4EkDO_SElz2n03rk/s320/17884205_775647732610461_8225047709019966113_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">Sin becomes a concoction to remedy fear and pain for living in a society where daily bread is hard to come by. Many have found refuge in other countries waiting, praying, and helping from afar for the remnant. There is a great rising of fear and confusion when a pastor is lost in such a way. This is the second Lutheran pastor I have learned about having been murdered in the past four years. How could God allow this to happen? Doesn’t the Psalmist promise that The LORD will be our keeper and that He will preserve us from all evil? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Something I know I have taken for granted is the luxury of my faith. We preach against the theology of glory, but in my mind there is a little voice that says; “be faithful to God and He will be faithful to you.” The problem with that is my own interpretation of God’s faithfulness to me and to others. The Lord <i>is</i> our keeper; the keeper of our <i>soul</i>. He has called dear Pastor Luis Coronado into eternal rest. He holds the souls of all believers in Him. While evildoers can hurt us and take our lives and our bodies, the Lord of all creation still holds us within His care. While we may cry for justice, we must remember and hold fast, knowing that the battle is the Lords. He will have His justice. Please pray for the family of our sainted brother and Pastor; Luis Coronado, pray for all pastors fighting to feed the flock in Venezuela. Pray for Venezuela and all her leaders. Pray that God would preserve us all in these later days, and call us to look to Him and His suffering endured for us. Our help truly does come from the Lord. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Christ is Risen! </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I will lift up my eyes to the hills—</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">From whence comes my help?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">2 My help comes from the Lord,</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Who made heaven and earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">3 He will not allow your foot to [a]be moved;</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He who keeps you will not slumber.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">4 Behold, He who keeps Israel</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Shall neither slumber nor sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">5 The Lord is your [b]keeper;</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The Lord is your shade at your right hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">6 The sun shall not strike you by day,</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Nor the moon by night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">7 The Lord shall [c]preserve you from all evil;</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He shall preserve your soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">8 The Lord shall preserve[d] your going out and your coming in</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">From this time forth, and even forevermore.</span></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-38013318460887922902019-08-31T04:17:00.002-07:002019-08-31T04:51:39.363-07:00"I GOT YOU MAMA"<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyAfNqzpWVDJoUblhkF0Uq22ib0qHgDPFY3j2-gLIoSftrC3K48tKFZVuhFwexdQbMsVItC9zxS1sLJWsPmkcuTcz4tmOuURWNMjO0JuTEdj95uLz32HypIXHfWK8vGvz1BhZBAgLQd8/s1600/IMG_2344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyAfNqzpWVDJoUblhkF0Uq22ib0qHgDPFY3j2-gLIoSftrC3K48tKFZVuhFwexdQbMsVItC9zxS1sLJWsPmkcuTcz4tmOuURWNMjO0JuTEdj95uLz32HypIXHfWK8vGvz1BhZBAgLQd8/s320/IMG_2344.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">Within the past few days our sweet little pumpkin has taken to saying “I got you!” and it isn’t as if she were playing hide and seek, she says it in a consoling manner. The other day I was walking with her and she asked to be picked up. I lifted her up, she rested her head on my shoulder and said; “I got you mama.” Her tone was the same as when she says “I love you.” They were words I needed to hear and be reminded of. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwt4goU78taWpDNxmtYIeAOgLzAtUPKaXR9JFvl36hm3gccDWNwDpPuAwcdwEwjZA5PzgvPMPFPJV5QRilkvUWgyGSInq4i9xStB8vtovaWnRO8lwLdOD0NhxUK5xO0_CS38NvaCm25sY/s1600/IMG_2300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwt4goU78taWpDNxmtYIeAOgLzAtUPKaXR9JFvl36hm3gccDWNwDpPuAwcdwEwjZA5PzgvPMPFPJV5QRilkvUWgyGSInq4i9xStB8vtovaWnRO8lwLdOD0NhxUK5xO0_CS38NvaCm25sY/s200/IMG_2300.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s difficult sometimes to remember that what you have been called to is all of life’s daily tasks; the mundane and the memorable. I often feel forgotten in Argentina and I don’t think it is a feeling unique and isolated to my station and place in life. I believe we all feel forgotten or meaningless at times. I believe we all need the gentle head rest of a child and the a tiny voice saying; “I got you.” </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRgresjBthtsf_2GmA95zC8ISzz3eJimG2Zs_lQGyUN7kPxzy3r-_CWNhvMmZ7ocfasjWTgpn0g6FUFAh8ezC7IBUcVmFh8UAsyH2cTRbvqUyB6VvYMs43RThg-OzPB_n3LpC0Dp72xg/s1600/IMG_8721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRgresjBthtsf_2GmA95zC8ISzz3eJimG2Zs_lQGyUN7kPxzy3r-_CWNhvMmZ7ocfasjWTgpn0g6FUFAh8ezC7IBUcVmFh8UAsyH2cTRbvqUyB6VvYMs43RThg-OzPB_n3LpC0Dp72xg/s200/IMG_8721.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">It wasn’t just the way my daughter said “I got you” it was the fact that she learned it from me. She said it because it is what I am constantly saying to her. When she bumps her head or faces a world full of emotions that she has never experienced before, I scoop her up and say; “I got you my honey bunny.” I imagine we all run around tending to the needs of others like it is the most important thing on our to-do list and it takes those gentle reminders to show us that what we are doing for others, they are also doing for us. My daughter might not change my diaper, feed me and bathe me, but I find purpose in her. I find meaning, and that doesn’t mean that everyone needs a two year old to have that. I find my vocational joy in Eva even though at the same time I think I might want a more “meaningful” task like writing books full time, feeding the hungry, teaching our world’s future leaders, or even saving the world from destruction and catastrophe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Eva’s gentle touch and words remind me that it is enough and she does in deed “got me.” and God gave her to me. More than that, God has me. He holds me within the palm of His hand in a way that reminds me that no matter how insignificant I might feel or think that I am, He remains present and active in my life. He is mindful of even my most mundane days. Sometimes, when my husband reminds me of how God cares for me I scoff and think; “I’m pretty sure God has more important things to be mindful of than my petty problems.” The truth is; He does, but that doesn’t stop Him from loving and caring for us. If there is one thing my isolation has taught me it is that God is ever present and ever caring in majestic ways veiled in the mundane. He is mindful of me, He is mindful of you and He’s got us. </span></div>
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<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 6px;">Isaiah 46:3-4</span> <span class="passage-display-version" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline;">(NKJV)</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">“Listen to Me, O house of Jacob,</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px;">And all the remnant of the house of Israel,</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px;">Who have been upheld</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px;">by Me</i><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">from </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">birth,</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px;">Who have been carried from the womb:</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Even to</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">your</i><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">old age,</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NKJV-18591B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NKJV-18591B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">I</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">am</i><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">He,</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px;">And</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px;">even</i><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">to gray hairs</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NKJV-18591C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NKJV-18591C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="font-size: 16px;">I will carry</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px;">you!</i></h1>
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<span style="font-size: 16px;">I have made, and I will bear;</span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Even I will carry, and will deliver</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">you.</i></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-32261931736365563722019-01-28T10:44:00.000-08:002019-01-28T18:18:05.515-08:00Someone's Choice<h1 class="passage-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 1.1; margin: 0px 0px 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I started consulting with peers for writing the book “Never Forsaken” I was asked by a dear friend if I had considered including the topic of “abortion.” I awkwardly laughed and tried to gently explain that this would be a book dedicated to miscarriage not abortions. After taking a moment to consider the source, a better response came to mind and I asked her; “Why do you think abortion should be included?” Her explanation got me to think a little bit differently about my pain with miscarriage and how it might relate to those who chose to terminate a pregnancy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">When I was pregnant with my firstborn, the doctor gave me a little booklet that he took a moment to fill out at his desk before handing it to me. It was a mini medical booklet with significant medical history to help whatever doctor was tending to me during my pregnancy. The first part of the booklet asked for the mothers previous pregnancies. My doctor had marked that this was my second pregnancy and that the first was terminated due to a “spontaneous abortion.” The last thing I wanted was my lost child to be associated with that word; “abortion” especially for all the negative connotation it carries. As the debate continues I keep thinking that the source of the battle isn’t just in law making and choices, it also lies in reminding women connected to that word; “abortion” that they are still beloved children of God despite choices made. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">With all the hubbub and commotion with “Walk for Life” and in contrast, new laws that have passed in New York with regards to abortion; I wonder how much are we trying to understand the women who make the choice to terminate a pregnancy. I believe there is a whole group of women out there who feel persecuted, judged, condemned and believe me when I say, they have a deep grief that goes unshared and unspoken. We need to be clearer in how we talk and condemn abortion. We condemn the laws that are passed and those who gleefully support the passing of those laws, not the women who fall prey to <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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believing they do in fact have to make a choice. We condemn the brainwashing of a culture, that tells women “you have a choice” when in reality it pushes them into thinking that they really don’t have any other choice apart from abortion.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">The majority of abortions occur because motherhood poses an inconvenience, I suppose at the very least we are recognizing the full time task being a mother entails, and that it is in fact a selfless calling. I wonder how many lies a woman has to tell herself to find consolation for making the choice to terminate a pregnancy. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a mass amount of people out there mourning the “choice” they thought was the only choice they had. There are mothers who are mourning the loss of a child silently because at the end of the day, grieving would just be admitting that you made the wrong choice. Can you imagine loosing a child and not being able to express regret not only for the judgement that would fall upon you at your own hand but also by the hands of others?</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">I believe most women who have abortions are broken inside just like all of us, they just tend to be a little better at hiding it. I think most women who have abortions are sad and longing for a better way out but they can’t see it. I am convinced that most women who have abortions aren’t thinking about women’s rights when they go in to terminate a pregnancy. I assume that most women who have abortions are mothers broken down by the standards of a society that says; “having children will ruin your life and destroy your dreams.” I believe that most women who have abortions think a lot about what life would be like if they never had to make the choice they did make. I believe that most women who have abortions think about if they did in fact make the right choice. Finally, I believe that women who have abortions carry a heavy burden for making a choice that they then have to deal with the consequences alone.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Choices are nice to have, but it seems like we aren’t offering much of a choice but a forced push off a cliff. I believe that women who have abortions are redeemed, loved, and can find peace in Christ. Much like a mother who has lost a child to miscarriage, I believe that most women who have abortions long for a day of total restoration. I believe that they deserve to grieve in a safe place and hopefully one day they can find the voice to serve as an example for others. Hopefully one day they can be an example that shows how sometimes making a choice isn’t a right or liberty, but an enslavement to something else. Let’s not forget the mothers of the children lost to abortion because I am certain that most of them are hurting too and in a much more deafening void of silence. </span></span></h1>
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<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 6px;">Psalm 130:3-6</span> <span class="passage-display-version" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline;">English Standard Version (ESV)</span></h1>
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<span class="text Ps-130-3" id="en-ESV-16144" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">3 </span>If you, O <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span>, should <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16144A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16144A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>mark iniquities,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-130-3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">O Lord, who could <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16144B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16144B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>stand?</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-130-4" id="en-ESV-16145" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">4 </span>But with you there is <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16145C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16145C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>forgiveness,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-130-4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16145D" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16145D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>that you may be feared.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-130-5" id="en-ESV-16146" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">5 </span>I <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16146E" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16146E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>wait for the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span>, <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16146F" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16146F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>my soul waits,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-130-5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">and <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16146G" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16146G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>in his word I hope;</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-130-6" id="en-ESV-16147" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">6 </span>my soul <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16147H" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16147H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>waits for the Lord</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-130-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">more than <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16147I" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16147I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>watchmen for <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-16147J" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16147J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>the morning,</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-130-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">more than watchmen for the morning.</span></span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-16750078617012321372018-08-24T18:28:00.000-07:002018-08-25T12:37:51.958-07:00Bunny Soft Toilet Paper<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nUQlxwdOqoJcwwqmFsr6793MEAaG00T0R75KLsnDip2FQPah6qZFmh1ozq1kQqKGWBTfu4aG4eXm-2hjBwyoOY9kYBJT1QRBfSF0aMP9zG9CJsYoBryMug8Rd1tsEbRL7sYvTXcHnms/s1600/IMG_2528.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1136" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nUQlxwdOqoJcwwqmFsr6793MEAaG00T0R75KLsnDip2FQPah6qZFmh1ozq1kQqKGWBTfu4aG4eXm-2hjBwyoOY9kYBJT1QRBfSF0aMP9zG9CJsYoBryMug8Rd1tsEbRL7sYvTXcHnms/s320/IMG_2528.PNG" width="320" /></a>Recently my beloved (Roberto), my darling (Evangelina) and I all traveled north for a few weeks to escape the winter. After having been home a while, I have begun to reflect on the things I miss the most from my old family homestead. I’m not sure if I ever knew “soft toilet paper” quite like the toilet paper my parents had in their home for this visit. It might have been an improvement that came over the years while I was away or perhaps it was one of the many changes they made with their recent remodeling. My parents are now purchasing generic toilet paper that they buy in bulk and hold on stock in their home. It is the softest toilet paper I have ever used! My husband put it most accurately in stating; “It’s like wiping your butt with a bunny,” lovely thought.<br />
For the first few weeks of our visit, Evangelina and myself were nursing a horrible cold with runny noses, and for my little darling it included many tears. Bunny soft toilet paper came in quite handy. I blew my nose so much and yet I never got an irritated nose like I normally get for blowing my nose so much. I spent the majority of my time with wadded up balls of humid bunny soft toilet paper in my pockets and in my purse. When it came time for us to return to the south, many tears were shed. Bunny soft toilet paper was used to wipe away the many tears that were shed.<br />
Upon arrival at our first destination on our journey south I took my daughter and husband to the family bathroom to change Evangelina’s diaper (an amenity I took advantage of as often as I could in the U.S.). As I wadded up the old diaper to throw it away I fell apart in a sobbing mess. My husband threw me a confused look and said ever so compassionately with one eyebrow raised; “Really? Now?” I grabbed the nearest absorbing material I could find, which happened to be a sturdy paper towel.<img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/2d511e15-fa47-4069-b2a6-64246c5a2224" /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBf1ErhqpUJFyB0MGCqeFDhKwAWnS9RBIR7P-lum1pCu_CK2TrWcPsngBtmT-m9GvtcMpG8KMTPTemPOeqkgbvzEUQm0JOBzcaDbc3K25IUFeGuq0p-ynpnjhwTTNxopAy57ZNq_lElN4/s1600/IMG_2815.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBf1ErhqpUJFyB0MGCqeFDhKwAWnS9RBIR7P-lum1pCu_CK2TrWcPsngBtmT-m9GvtcMpG8KMTPTemPOeqkgbvzEUQm0JOBzcaDbc3K25IUFeGuq0p-ynpnjhwTTNxopAy57ZNq_lElN4/s320/IMG_2815.HEIC" width="240" /></a>Still clinging to the old soiled diaper, I thought about how the last diaper change that my daughter had was from my mom in Nebraska. I started thinking about how my mom changed my daughters very first diapers in the hospital since I couldn’t move after having had Evangelina. I thought about how the soiled diaper in my hand would be the last diaper my mom would have put on Evangelina (the next time we get to see each other Evangelina will most likely be potty trained). Clinging to the diaper even tighter and holding myself up on the changing table I began to sob uncontrollably. A wet mess of tears and snot, I grabbed a few more paper towels and wiped away at my face. If I were an avid scrapbooker I might have given a fleeting thought to saving the soiled diaper.<br />
My loving husband didn’t know if he should laugh at me or cry with me. What he did do was say; “I don’t get it! What happened?” As I continued to wipe tears and snot away with the paper towels I wondered how I could explain the depth of sadness, regret, and ache a soiled diaper caused me and I summed it up into the following words; “I miss bunny soft toilet paper!” With those words, I showed him the rough, soggy, un-absorbent paper towel with one hand and threw the old diaper away with the other. We both laughed and hugged each other in the moment realizing that there is a lot to miss from home, and there was so much more to be thankful for.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGiFoHO0d7lyyRtiFhQyRUebc2I81Xty7a8kj4EuBqedGsJYabYg-Qhu_aKVRdKistkiAlErg-3gJKQmJuKRh_gzNpZPqh3edwwKxlzwywDnAIulgeR3LqGwuVilo76nZbCDCbzRCs6Y/s1600/IMG_2669.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGiFoHO0d7lyyRtiFhQyRUebc2I81Xty7a8kj4EuBqedGsJYabYg-Qhu_aKVRdKistkiAlErg-3gJKQmJuKRh_gzNpZPqh3edwwKxlzwywDnAIulgeR3LqGwuVilo76nZbCDCbzRCs6Y/s320/IMG_2669.HEIC" width="240" /></a>Bunny soft toilet paper oddly reminds me that while there is a lot to miss, nothing compares to the people I miss. As I told my husband; “I know I will see them again, I don’t mourn loosing them, I mourn the moments in the year we don’t get to share together. I mourn the birthdays, the Christmases, the Easters, and the mundane Mondays with my family.” Even so, I am so thankful for every moment we did get to share with my family. They were moments that were treasured all the more for all the lost moments that we don’t get to share. I especially cherished the two Communions I was able to share with my family. Each worship was a celestial moment where I was strengthened and reminded that despite the distance, we share every Sunday when we share in the Lord’s Supper. Until we are reunited, I cling to the Lord’s promise to unite us in His Word and through His gifts. I know I will see them again. I cry for the earthly things and rejoice for the celestial promise that one day we will never have to part. <br />
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“Let us praise the Word Incarnate, Christ, who suffered in our place. Jesus died and rose victorious that we may know God by grace. Let us sing for joy and gladness, seeing what our God has done; Let us praise the true Redeemer, Praise the One who makes us one.” LSB 849 (Hope Publishing Co. 1987)<br />
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<br />Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-79951235647343085752018-01-11T16:27:00.000-08:002018-01-11T16:27:08.830-08:00Jesus Tender<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Every night before laying my baby girl in her crib at night, my husband and I practice the habit of praying with her. We first say the Lord’s Prayer and then we end with a prayer that my mom sang to me ever since I can remember. I don’t know the origins of the prayer but the words are as follows: </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Jesus tender, Shepherd hear me. Bless Thy little Evangelina tonight. Through the darkness be thou near her, keep her safe ‘till morning light. All this day Thy hand hath held her, and we thank Thee for Thy care. Thou has warmed her, clothed her, fed her, listen to her evening prayer, Amen, goodnight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Most nights when we say this prayer together, melancholy sets in and I begin to reflect in the darkness of her nursery on what the words we recite mean for us in our daily lives to this tiny creature. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIul25DU0QUH9SkHGaHgEdmFFTyVTdoMlQ1WTdGZY222YS2Id9cQzNT8yNnlDbRh9_CRw9qNEfHTkKWxpWDZPMan_AUhz88DewQuFKl6ioC4xEkdhb0YdAuEUvcweFXDWgQnCeD0hD7A/s1600/IMG_5199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIul25DU0QUH9SkHGaHgEdmFFTyVTdoMlQ1WTdGZY222YS2Id9cQzNT8yNnlDbRh9_CRw9qNEfHTkKWxpWDZPMan_AUhz88DewQuFKl6ioC4xEkdhb0YdAuEUvcweFXDWgQnCeD0hD7A/s200/IMG_5199.JPG" width="112" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">Some nights the prayer catches me from the hustle and bustle of a long day come to a close and reminds me how quickly my baby girl will grow up and perhaps share the same prayer with her own little children. Other nights I’m struck at was a precious gift we have in our arms and how uncertain each passing day can be. What I mean by that is; we don’t know how much time we are given to hold and love the ones we are blessed with and for that we entrust them to the care of our Lord. We raise them in a way that promises the hope of restoration for if they are taken from us, and we pray that God would hold them throughout long days and longer night. Every night as we pray; “Thou has warmed her, clothed her, fed her” I am held in aww at the truth in those words for us. Call it “karma, fate, kindness” or whatever else this modern co-exist culture prefers to call it, but I know it is nothing short of the hand of my God caring for my baby girl in ways we can not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The truth and reality is that by western American standards, Roberto and I should have never had a baby. We are not financially stable enough to support her, CPS would deem our house unfit for the raising of a little child, and my own body has seemed to reject the tasks of providing my baby with all that she needs and yet she is a healthy, happy baby with all that she needs and more. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE-cOKAgFTlbZigKPhSYtxRekO3BSMreQ3nSZQNpDqtlGZuiIwirAVnvpW6kTg_zOHVmslMDSrFbMSNvu0OE2D9AO_yKhFPrRAiM3A5FalXUPXexGUKw9hoeJkQwSBnyU9zcDd-yqkgM/s1600/IMG_0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE-cOKAgFTlbZigKPhSYtxRekO3BSMreQ3nSZQNpDqtlGZuiIwirAVnvpW6kTg_zOHVmslMDSrFbMSNvu0OE2D9AO_yKhFPrRAiM3A5FalXUPXexGUKw9hoeJkQwSBnyU9zcDd-yqkgM/s320/IMG_0760.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">When I begin to worry about the number and quality of days that I have to hold my child, I try to remind myself of the many ways the Lord has provided thus far for my child. It calms my heart to know the very hands of God that work in and among His people to give them good things and provide them with all that they need and more are the very same hands that were nailed to a cross to grant us salvation. Length of days may be short and the quality of them may not be as pleasant as hoped but eternity is a precious gift we hold right now as a comfort. The provision for the length of our days is a reminder of that provision for eternity. He holds us now in the midst of struggles to bring us to Him for an eternity of joy in His presence. He remains with us through the darkness util the morning light and we thank Him for all that He gives us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Roberto and I are so thankful for all that the Lord has given us in 2017 and we are thankful for all of you who have loved us, supported us, and prayed for us. You certainly have shown us the mercy and care of our Lord through all that you do. May God bless you and your family in this new year. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">Matthew 6:25-34</span><span style="font-kerning: none;">New King James Version (NKJV)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Do Not Worry</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>25 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>26 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>27 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>28 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">“So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>29 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>30 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, <i>will He</i> not much more <i>clothe</i> you, O you of little faith?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>31 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>32 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>33 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>34 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day <i>is</i> its own trouble.</span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-86560724589065156072017-07-31T07:35:00.001-07:002017-07-31T09:01:54.339-07:00Labor Pains<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_6QjOJBLh-MCxhyHOMa9hZ1BMmVT4QF2GgSOVM67NFoWSdn22g2lpPHJ7iDQ2U6yF46BS8sypcCC-4-JrXqpoRPXLyYEASY_R_g3db5YcNF4h5btcDMBwpN0OGKWcwulqOSSBJl6bLo/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1465.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_6QjOJBLh-MCxhyHOMa9hZ1BMmVT4QF2GgSOVM67NFoWSdn22g2lpPHJ7iDQ2U6yF46BS8sypcCC-4-JrXqpoRPXLyYEASY_R_g3db5YcNF4h5btcDMBwpN0OGKWcwulqOSSBJl6bLo/s320/fullsizeoutput_1465.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evangelina's baptismal gown was made by her grandma using her wedding dress</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">July 22nd Evangelina Lucia was born 10:45 at night weighing 3.5 kilos. It was the “most incredible” experience. I planned everything out; Wait until contractions are 3-2 minutes apart and then go to the hospital so as not to drag the process out. Once in the hospital, I had meditative music to distract from the pain, and a nice crucifix on the wall to focus on when the contractions got hard (after all, if He could do that, then I could do this). I had essential oils to calm me, and my husband to support and admire the woman who would push new life from her birth giving hips into this world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I prayed leading up to the 22nd that God would grant me strength to view the labor as a chance to draw close to the cross and suffering of Christ. I prayed that in my suffering I would be able to recall the far greater sufferings of Christ and remember what it was that He did to give us life in Him. I had a plan that giving birth was going to be an all natural and spiritual experience for me where I would marvel at the gift of life that God gives and then also embrace suffering as means of being drawn closer to Christ. Plans rarely work out how I want them to no matter how much I perfectly prepare. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma and mom made the cake</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">After a few weeks of labor pains, off and on, we decided on the 22nd to go into the hospital to make sure everything was okay and to know for sure if there were any signs apart from the pain that could tell us how much longer I would have to endure everything. So that evening, after dinner, we went to pass by the hospital at about 9:00 at night. There weren’t any signs from my body for the midwife that said Evangelina was close but Evangelina was saying something else. The midwife wanted to check her heart-rate before letting us leave and in the process she found troubling that Evangelina’s heart-rate was way too high. She had me wait another ten minutes before checking again and she notified me that they would have to do an emergency cesarian. I immediately began to sob and tremble uncontrollably. Roberto and I prayed and I kept apologizing to my husband for not being able to bring our daughter into the world in a way that would be natural and allow for him to be present as well. I was terrified of the unplanned pain of a cesarian and the surrender of my body into the hands of the medical professionals over the natural process I had so meticulously planned. I was ready for natural birth, but nothing could prepare me for the shock and pain that came with having a cesarian. It was the unknown and uncontrollable for me.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">blanket made by grandma with wedding dress</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">That is when I realized God had answered my prayer for strength. In the unknown and uncontrollable surrender to having Evangelina brought into the world in a way far more uncontrolled than I had wanted, I was surrendering to God. I depended more upon God to bring me through to the other side than I did on my birthing hips and a crucifix on the wall. I prayed without ceasing that my baby would be okay and that I would not go into shock for the traumatic experience my mind and body was going through in screaming “no! no! no!” while trying to do what I did not want to do. I was violently shaking while they took my clothes off in front of people passing by, I was separated from my loved ones and afraid of not having my cultural crutch of a husband by my side, it was labor without dignity (not that there are many labors with dignity). I decided the best thing I could do was to calm down and just give in to being numb of physical pain for two hours. I realized that the idea of my meditative labor and delivery was <i>my</i> idea of being drawn into the pain and suffering of Christ. I realized just how far from His suffering we often are in our minds and hearts all the while with good intentions of drawing close. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Being led where we don’t want to go is often what it is that draws us closer to Christ. It is in those places where we realize that we do not draw close to Him but that He draws close to us. We cannot do for ourselves nor of our own be brought into Him and His suffering. It is by His grace that when we are in the midst of it all we realize, He has never left our side and He becomes all the more powerfully present as we realize what little control we really have in life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We thank and praise God for keeping Evangelina and I safe in the midst of labor and delivery and we also thank and praise God for brining her into this world. We rejoice all the more as this Sunday, Evangelina was brought into God’s family through the waters of Holy Baptism. Thank you so much to all of you who were praying for us, God was with us and we have made it to the other side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">John 21:18New King James Version (NKJV)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">18 Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish.”</span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-373150638967516572017-02-08T06:29:00.000-08:002017-02-08T06:35:34.835-08:00Bad news and Good news<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV3kjuhUlomJAKOJz6mGIQRB058Az7WiJfwWs7egEyKVwHdCkMgHUX6NCpICF-B-naWaRM06pI7gXD454mJ-e6MTA5JlIgloV1UFtQDVkBlmqw96LcZXlDWjkm8NAaQeQsl1a6Nc7Ljg/s1600/IMG_0289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV3kjuhUlomJAKOJz6mGIQRB058Az7WiJfwWs7egEyKVwHdCkMgHUX6NCpICF-B-naWaRM06pI7gXD454mJ-e6MTA5JlIgloV1UFtQDVkBlmqw96LcZXlDWjkm8NAaQeQsl1a6Nc7Ljg/s320/IMG_0289.JPG" width="229" /></a><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">For those of you who don’t know; I experienced a miscarriage this past winter (Argentinian winter- summer in the states). For me, the loss was too soon in an early marriage and it forced me to look at things and grieve things I never allowed myself to grieve before. Five months into an intercultural marriage is perhaps too soon to be ready to have kids, maybe reckless and irresponsible, but Roberto and I were both in agreement that this was what we wanted. We agreed that we weren’t going to hold the hand of God based on our personal time-lines. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I cried to God for the loss praying; “We only want a family! Why would you allow us to get our hopes up? Weren’t our intentions Godly?! Why me?” When all my sad sorry cries were out, rationality settled in. I realized that to ask God; “Why me?” would force me to ask the same question later should He bless us with children. “Why do we get to have children and others not?” At the end of the day it was safer to just trust and believe that like all barren and fruitful women it isn’t about the “why her and not me?” questions. It is about knowing and believing that through it all, it is not one over the other. It is Christ for all. At the end of the day our souls magnify the Lord, and our Spirits rejoices in God our Savior for He has acknowledged the lowliness of all of us even the unborn. I don’t want to know “Why me” because I might come to know something far worse than morning sickness, worse than the loss of a child, worse than bareness, worse than a lifetime of loneliness, worse than a life of poverty. We have a great gift in Christ that we find the answers to all our questions of “why” in Him. “Why me?” becomes a question we only ask in response to the undeserved salvation won for us. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpSOR1wDh7HzcycDdDDJCVYg5oXcEM-6avTe5xUsSheKDaV_-OmWthfalc8O1uSNeswGhGszbTw0EazX9AGUKlwQBSJH5dCay9JUSV2dtSUUAysAWJWkMJRlsXkhbPrqLG05ry5V-hcc/s1600/IMG_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpSOR1wDh7HzcycDdDDJCVYg5oXcEM-6avTe5xUsSheKDaV_-OmWthfalc8O1uSNeswGhGszbTw0EazX9AGUKlwQBSJH5dCay9JUSV2dtSUUAysAWJWkMJRlsXkhbPrqLG05ry5V-hcc/s320/IMG_0292.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">We all know someone who struggles with “why” questions whether it is due to a miscarriage, loss, or something hoped for and never attained. We might be that person, or it might be someone close to us, we pray and weep for all who struggle. Roberto and I however are no longer in this place my friends, we are expecting again and from the morning sickness I experienced; this baby wants to make itself known! While we weeped last July for the loss of a life, we hope to be rejoicing this July for the new life given through the waters of Holy baptism. We are told to expect this baby at the end of July and we hope to baptize him or her right away in the church. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Thank you to everyone for your prayers, love, and support. </span></div>
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<span class="text 1Sam-2-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="chapternum" style="bottom: -0.1em; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold; left: 0px; line-height: 0.8em; position: relative;">2 </span>And Hannah prayed and said:</span></div>
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<span class="text 1Sam-2-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">“My heart rejoices in the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Lord</span>;</span><br />
<span class="text 1Sam-2-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">My horn<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NKJV-7242a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NKJV-7242a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Samuel+2%3A1&version=NKJV#fen-NKJV-7242a" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</span> is exalted in the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Lord</span>.</span><br />
<span class="text 1Sam-2-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">I smile at my enemies,</span><br />
<span class="text 1Sam-2-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Because I rejoice in Your salvation.</span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-65727309543338693572016-12-21T08:36:00.002-08:002016-12-21T10:17:20.576-08:00Fellow-Passengers To The Grave<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ten months ago the idea of leaving so many things behind to move to another country seemed much easier and more thoughtless, especially when I was so fortunate to bring so much with me. My ancestors would have been jealous at the many suitcases I was able to fill and bring with me. Still, it is hard to forget the people, places, and things left behind. It seems easy enough to go about life normally until that moment when you are making something in the kitchen and think; “This would be so much easier if I had my…..” or when something happens and you think; “I wish my friend ______ were here to share this with.” Even when you look on social media and see the many traditions, customs, and places that family and friends are visiting this holiday season, you start to miss what you once knew. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The things left behind are drawn back to memory and the floodgates of want and longing are opened. I wonder if the soul without God knows that longing even more profoundly; to be constantly without something and searching for that one thing to make them whole. I believe this is where Christ meets us all in this festive time of year. As Charles Dickens says in his work of A Christmas Carol: </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on their journeys."</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It is at this time of year where we find that commonality among us all, and why? Because Christ came to us, as one of us not one above us. Thinking himself as nothing, taking the very form of a servant. He left behind far more a kingdom, much more impossible to forget. The longing for his heavenly home must have always been there, but what was greater was his longing to bring all “passengers to the grave” home again. Our pilgrimage upon this earth will be filled with things and people lost, and things left behind, but our comfort comes to us in One who promises full restoration not one day out of the year, but for eternity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Truly He taught us to love one another, <br />
His law is love and His gospel is peace. <br />
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother. <br />
And in his name all oppression shall cease. <br />
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, <br />
With all our hearts we praise His holy name. <br />
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we, <br />
His power and glory ever more proclaim! <br />
His power and glory ever more proclaim!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">O Holy Night -by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure 1847 <br />
translated into English by John Sullivan Dwight (1812-1893).</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Merry Christmas! </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">With Love, Roberto and Katie</span></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-58859534180129182372016-08-24T12:49:00.000-07:002016-08-24T12:49:57.801-07:00The Heavenly Feast <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“That looks almost good enough to eat!” Today I made homemade pasta raviolis. When I set them up on the plate the words of my grandfather rang in my ear; “Those look almost good enough to eat!” My grandfather would always say quirky little things that would leave me thinking; “What does that even mean!?” It doesn’t matter now, what matters to me now is that his words ring in my ear and remind me of the grandfather I had. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He was a strong man! He built houses and what I remember most about his physical appearance was how rough the skin on his hands was; like leather. He was funny, and playful. He made us so many things in his workshop. He made bow and arrows, doll houses, wooden animals and treasure chests. I remember making stained glass angles with him once, he was always willing to entertain my ideas of making things together including jewelry. I remember the way he would eat carrots by hitting his jaw as if the carrot was too hard to just bite into. I remember grandma's response to grandpa when he would play with her; “Oh Herb” then she would chuckle like a character out of a 1950’s film. They loved each other and my heart breaks to think of her without him now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My heart breaks thinking of my mother, and her siblings as they will burry their father. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Death leaves us with nothing but memories. It’s hard for me to grasp and understand what this all means being so far away. I wont be able to go through the whole grieving process of letting go with my family but that is why I am so very thankful for one more wonderfully beautiful characteristic I remember above all the others when it comes to my grandpa; he loved his Lord. I see my grandfather in my aunts and uncles, and I see him in my cousins. While my grandfather may not be in this world he reminded us of truths and sayings much greater than his original quirky ones. More than his carpentry, more than his love for his family; my grandfather left a legacy, a legacy of faith in a God who promises that this is not the end. While I may not be able to be present for the funeral, I will pull out my hymnal and my Bible and cling to the one thing I know we will all be clinging to; a promise. Praise be to the God of the living and the life He gave through the waters of Holy Baptism to Herbert Heider. We love you, and we will see you again, but not before we see our Savior. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">John 11:24-26</span><span style="font-kerning: none;">New King James Version (NKJV)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><b>24 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Martha said to Him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><b>25 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><b>26 </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?”</span></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-25776457930202341172016-06-08T09:28:00.001-07:002016-06-08T09:33:46.424-07:00In Honor of Rosalia and in Awe of him. <br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’ve noticed something interesting about him when he preaches. It is as if he ceases to be my husband for that hour and it is as if there is an impenetrable glass wall between us. Perhaps it is because he is not inches from my face telling me and only me that he loves me, or perhaps something more is happening. Something changes; he changes. Today was different though. Today I watched him in a different context and he didn’t cease to be a pastor, but there was new depth to him as a pastor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We received a call yesterday that Rosalia; a beloved elderly woman from the church had passed away. I had the blessing of visiting her with him and sharing with them in the Lord’s supper. I even spent the night in her home when I first visited him last August. It was surreal to hear that she had died because it had been a wile since we last saw her. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIHwW6CgTZ2GJm3wBRn0R3E_Qhx8J63NioHKgNcKMvWkYI7QSSGeM__hYBkua2yUD79q3ye29i_kykW0vcLsWLfZpnY3NS8XITfg16tJMM84_gAapyCNUGNlqLzxapCNE9L1ZmIO_Ttg/s1600/13250552_10206948732779591_669972661_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIHwW6CgTZ2GJm3wBRn0R3E_Qhx8J63NioHKgNcKMvWkYI7QSSGeM__hYBkua2yUD79q3ye29i_kykW0vcLsWLfZpnY3NS8XITfg16tJMM84_gAapyCNUGNlqLzxapCNE9L1ZmIO_Ttg/s320/13250552_10206948732779591_669972661_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our last visit with Rosalia </td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When we both got up this morning there was something more than the rain, the darkness, and the cold that was dragging us. It was the fear of knowing that this time when we would see Rosalia, she would not be in her bed, but in a box. The drive was an hour long through the gray, and gloomy Argentinian winter weather. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When we arrived we did the customary greeting to the few people that were there, then we went to “pay respects” to our friend. Rosalia had been begging for death the past few months as she was sick and tired, and ready to be with her Savior. He stood tall and led us in a small service without any emotional hinderance. I know him better. I could see that he was doing more than just reading words, he was trying to be strong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Upon departure Rosalia’s daughter told us that we weren’t going to be able to have a service because the place where they were laying Rosalia to rest was a borrowed place until they found her a vault and it would be too small for us all to gather. With strong determination he looked at her and said “Let’s try”. When we got to the cemetery Rosalia’s daughter told us “I don’t think you will be able to do anything, it is too small, it is really cold, rainy, and people still have to travel to get home” he told her “it will be short, don’t worry, I know, I also have to travel home.” That is when it happened. He made it through the committal service proclaiming all the glory of resurrection and right there at the end after the benediction, I saw it; my pastor. His voice cracked a little and his eyes welled with tears as he said; “in the words of Rosalia; may our loving father protect you. Go in peace.” His hand at the head of the coffin, he tapped it a few times and my heart broke. I remember my father doing the same thing with my Grandmother’s coffin when she died. It is a gesture that for me is known as the “trying to be strong” gesture. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTVyJrH7p7Gj_KKwzQx2mbgxf4kWRcDQdVGKqg88txtNtVQf1x1KAwYYcaaJXyayqP6jKz91MNHLowtzL4qOgvo8RDRokn4zOspZSbxriLSw-5V-ilR85JKirkUWO6HoklYmR4NkztT0/s1600/13231231_10206948744419882_828142514_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTVyJrH7p7Gj_KKwzQx2mbgxf4kWRcDQdVGKqg88txtNtVQf1x1KAwYYcaaJXyayqP6jKz91MNHLowtzL4qOgvo8RDRokn4zOspZSbxriLSw-5V-ilR85JKirkUWO6HoklYmR4NkztT0/s320/13231231_10206948744419882_828142514_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">There is something that is made clear when the guard of your pastor comes down and they don’t seem so strong. You realize where that strength comes from and you begin to admire them even more realizing what a gift and a blessing from God a pastor is. Seeing him trying to be strong and then cracking just a little made me think of what it must have been like for Jesus at Lazurus’ tomb. Knowing the truth, preaching that truth, knowing how the story ends, doesn’t change the groaning and pains of death of which there is no immunity for anyone. When your pastor weeps, it is a reminder that the gospel is not just a bandaid, it is a healing balm that takes root and penetrates the souls of those whom the law has cut deep with its two edge sword. Some of the people he encounters wont give time for balm, and will only want the bandaid. When a pastor cries, it is a reminder of the gift he is for the church, because he is crying for the Church and all her members. He cries because of the member that will sing “Holy Holy Holy” from the other side of the altar this Sunday when he distributes the sacrament to those who remain. He cries because he knows the charge given to him by God to care for, correct, teach, preach, and carry the saints into eternal rest. He cries because honestly, it wouldn’t be right if he didn’t. He cries because he knows the words he proclaims over the corpse hold a powerful truth but will just be words for some that are present. He cries perhaps not out of weakness, but rather understanding. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am so very proud of him and the pastor he is. He cares for the souls of his people as if it were a charge from God, which it is. He takes his responsibility in all seriousness and humility. I am so very proud of him for not just making his flock his “job” but his life. I am so very proud of him for the man God is making him to be, and for pointing Rosalia home. We have a gracious heavenly father who has given us a blessing in giving us pastors and men to stand in the stead and by the command of Christ. I pray we never forget that.</span><br />
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<span class="text John-11-25" id="en-NKJV-26549" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"> </span>Jesus said to her, <span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.</span></span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-71192077489057871112016-04-21T09:15:00.002-07:002016-04-21T09:15:24.208-07:00The Ultimate Honeymoon!!!! (with photos of the new addition to our family)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The unexpected, and unwanted</td></tr>
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Okay! So yes! We are technically in the “honeymoon” stage of our young marriage, but believe me, this has not been a honeymoon at all…in fact I wish I had listened to all the wise people who told me “you will want to take a honeymoon” because guess what! I sure would love a honeymoon right about now. We call this baptism by fire in our home. </div>
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I can’t lament not getting a honeymoon, or really any of this because I chose this. I think that goes for a lot of things in life. That has been my constant reminder to myself when I start complaining about anything, “Remember; you choose this.” In the past few years I have found it is so easy to find the negative side of things and just start throwing a pity party. The reality is if you trace it back, anything and everything, you chose something along the line that has brought you to where you are. So, you can thank God for the choice or you can lament the results.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The unexpected, but welcomed </td></tr>
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In this new married life I have been throwing a ton of pity parties for having to struggle with the language, having to be a “First lady” of sorts, having to clean, cook, wait on papers, blah blah blah….yada yada yada, and the list goes on and on and on, but at the end of the day, all these problems started with a choice, a choice I don’t regret now, nor do I think I will ever regret. I might wonder at times why I made the choice I did, but it will not change the reasons nor my thankfulness towards God for giving me the choice that I was able to make. I chose Roberto for so many reasons; his fine looks, his wads of cash that I know he has hidden somewhere in this house, his brains, his humor, his sensibility, his gentleness, his kind and big heart, his good looks (did I say that one already), many of these I don’t get to see all at once (especially the cash, I’m still waiting for him to slip and tell me where it is) and one day all of this will fade. In baking terms, it is all icing on the cake, and I love cake more than I love icing. </div>
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I had a pastor once tell me that he could have married a million women, but what made the woman he did marry “the one” was their commitment and vows made before God, and the Church. So ultimately God made her his choice. I agree whole heartedly with him this side of the marriage certificate, but I would add, my choice was based on the beginning upon what God was building. </div>
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My Roberto is a baptized child of God who shares the same foundation of faith and love for God. At times he shows it better than I do, but it is that part of him that I choose for the rest of life. I know that when I start to complain about the trials in life, the difficulties, wanting a honeymoon, or just wishing that my husband were with me instead of with the many other people of the church, he can point me to the cross of Christ and remind me what it is that we are working towards until that day when we complete our baptismal vows. </div>
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You can say I am in that honeymoon stage, but I know that part of my Roberto can be shaken but never taken. I will not love him any less than I do today for the man that God is making him to be and because it isn’t my choice alone to love him, but a gift that I get to actively participate in. I’m thankful to our God that every day, I get to see my Roberto live out his baptismal faith and to know that we are built upon a foundation much stronger than Mai Tai’s on the beach (Or maté in our case). I am beyond “in love,” I am proud. </div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-42749004194787143112015-12-07T05:57:00.000-08:002015-12-07T05:57:03.555-08:00No place like home......<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloBtJbggCMMEBZzxaM2w_sCQT6T-u5K_zmv-N_-a3pF_qV9xII4sQDm1NwWxBIsQC8bcO92VTZvaUzHLs_4hZ3V1eoIc7bdIGLvX2itUqT5MWCJMIswTeqQJOIBYMlnQ21QGc4UENFHo/s1600/IMG_2026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloBtJbggCMMEBZzxaM2w_sCQT6T-u5K_zmv-N_-a3pF_qV9xII4sQDm1NwWxBIsQC8bcO92VTZvaUzHLs_4hZ3V1eoIc7bdIGLvX2itUqT5MWCJMIswTeqQJOIBYMlnQ21QGc4UENFHo/s320/IMG_2026.jpg" width="240" /></a>For the past seven years I have been what I suppose you could call “Short term living.” I have not lived in the same place for over a year in these past seven years. I have slept on so many different beds, sofas, floors, and air mattresses. I have slept over night in many eclectic places including maids quarters, offices, church basements, air planes, buses, and even a table at the train station. I have moved near and far using suitcases for some transports, boxes for others, and grocery sacks for the more questionable and close by stays. I have crammed as much as I could into my car for stateside moves and pushed the weight limits with American Airline. As of February I will break down the boxes, hand over the keys to my car, burn every plastic bag I own, and hopefully put up the suitcases for a good while. </div>
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Anyone who has traveled and lived out of suitcases knows how exhausting it can be to not feel as though you can lay down roots. There is a constant longing to just be home and to know that one day you wont have to pack a suitcase once a week, pack boxes every six months, reevaluate what should be held onto and what should be thrown away. You long for a day when you no longer will have to haul things from airport to airport, bus station to bus station, country to country, state to state. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>After more than seven years of sojourning from my fathers home I will have a place to truly call home. Home for me was never a place, It was more an idea surrounding a place. A home is a place surrounded in love warmth and belonging. A place that is nurtured and cared for of your own efforts. A place where your family stays and a place where your family is surrounded in a sense of security. Home is where kids want to go after a day at school, a weekend at grandmas, or a day out with friends because they know it is a safe place for them to lay down their heads and to be cared for, it is a sanctuary. That is something I have always felt in going to my home congregation in Papillon Nebraska. I am thrilled and delighted that my journey continues out of that home as I will walk down the isle in February and be joined to the love of my life before God and my church family. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhv3XfCDSPDkYwuX61xd8Vp5fWfjjIefN7dgAqQwFYBO8qbZD6_97kJitIkPaNKbliv_PJ-zLyYSTJyARxxR-R9fzeS3jks19FglexD_tsF_SVyJT73GU6q9T-l9KwL-KFsiHOiXp1dg/s1600/IMG_2468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhv3XfCDSPDkYwuX61xd8Vp5fWfjjIefN7dgAqQwFYBO8qbZD6_97kJitIkPaNKbliv_PJ-zLyYSTJyARxxR-R9fzeS3jks19FglexD_tsF_SVyJT73GU6q9T-l9KwL-KFsiHOiXp1dg/s320/IMG_2468.jpg" width="320" /></a>I wonder if this is what God would have us find in His house; a home. For this past year I have been struggling in the new place of service I have been put. It is <i>not</i> my home, I feel as though I had been taken from family and friends of my earlier place of service and I felt as though I had been abandoned in a place that was the furthest thing from home I have known. I am not just speaking of the location of my ‘house” I include the church in this description of home. People were not as inviting as in my earlier location, the struggles were bigger, the challenges harder, and the situation more lonely. I slipped in and out of depression and longed every day for any other place other than the place I was in. After a long bout of this a still small voice came to me and said; “You get to practice being a mother.” I have always wanted to be a mother. I want my own children, but it took me a bit to understand what “mother” in this context meant. For me, it meant fostering and nurturing relationships with people who weren't exactly pulling me close. It meant caring for a people who would not identify me necessarily as family. It meant worrying for a people’s spiritual growth who had become stagnant and luke warm to the faith. It meant going where I didn’t want to go and showing them what I had always been shown by the members of First Lutheran church. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BgxHHqUUAmzXCGPcq5PlQcYBFZF28Or60i5rXSBXVIQiMH1caEuu7_RebLDJKYto9NJCMqZLLNIjr8EAF7kEqQ8k2xUVIde9F97otPoIcPU0HMicfWLE2VHP08eBu0TE-T3r_lOpoy8/s1600/IMG_1923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BgxHHqUUAmzXCGPcq5PlQcYBFZF28Or60i5rXSBXVIQiMH1caEuu7_RebLDJKYto9NJCMqZLLNIjr8EAF7kEqQ8k2xUVIde9F97otPoIcPU0HMicfWLE2VHP08eBu0TE-T3r_lOpoy8/s320/IMG_1923.jpg" width="240" /></a>Now, with almost one year (ALMOST), we are beginning to be family. I am beginning to understand better that to be “mother” is more than taking on a title and caring for cute littles. It is a task of endurance, perseverance. It is messy, not at all glamorous, it is thankless, it is uncertain as to if you are <i>ever</i> doing a “good job” it is draining and it is the most rewarding task in which you can apply yourself. At the end of the day, when I see my students leave class with more joy and assurance that they are in church to receive good things from a loving God, then that is thanks and reward enough. When I see them start to understand that this is their home where they can feel secure and safe, and loved, then I know God is working to bring unity, faith, and fellowship in His family. I believe that Church was meant to be family. We were meant to know that sense of sanctuary and stability wherever we unite to hear the word of God and to receive Christ’s body and blood. I doubted that I would see the day where the people where I serve would break forth from a stagnant luke warm faith that comes to church out of obligation as opposed to desire. I now know God has equipped me to to be a part of that transformation. He showed me in the home He gave me what it looks like so I could share that vision with the people here. I thank God for the opportunity to know and share what it means for a Church to be a home, especially in this advent season as we reflect on what it meant for Christ to leave his heavenly home to take on flesh and blood. I pray you all have a blessed advent season!</div>
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<span class="text Heb-11-13" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">13 </span>These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them,<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NKJV-30186a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NKJV-30186a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+11%3A13-14&version=NKJV#fen-NKJV-30186a" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</span> embraced <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">them</i> and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. </span><span class="text Heb-11-14" id="en-NKJV-30187" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">14 </span>For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland. </span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-19845270288791230312015-11-27T16:10:00.002-08:002015-11-27T16:15:04.077-08:00We’ll get together then….<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
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Can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today</div>
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I got a lot to do" he said, "That's okay"</div>
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You know, I'm gonna be like him"</div>
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Those are the words from the well known Harry Chapin song;<i> Cats in the Cradle.</i> Thanksgiving day those words were ringing in my mind as I helped in an endeavor to clean out the church a bit. I was first in charge of cleaning out the office. There was dust, dead and live cockroaches, cobwebs, bird feather, and so much more. All of this pales in comparison to what I had to clean in the kitchen. I’ll give you a hint; they are small white, look like a worm and are often found with rotting meat….ewww ewww ewww!!! Anyway, as I cleaned that office I found many interesting things, among which were un-gifted mothers day and fathers day gifts, kindergarten graduation plaques of some of the kids from church, old event programs, toys, and a few unused and used baseballs. </div>
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As I looked at those baseballs the earlier mentioned song came to mind. I could give them to any of the boys in church but who would play catch with them? Of course they have their friends, but in my mind for whatever reason I was stuck on the idea that it should be their father. I started to think of what a system we take for granted. The whole concept of “family” is being trashed and redefined, while I sit in the D.R. and can clearly see how much a young boy needs a father. Those baseballs reflected the relationship of father and son as it is seen here in the D.R., dusty and foreign. Dads may not be consumed with power, money, or other things, but they certainly are not concerned so much for their own children either. If they were concerned they would know the best thing for a child is to know the love of both parents. They would know that even at a distance their children look to them to see and know what type of person they should aspire to be. They would know they are being watched and longed for. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjYf0YG07aSVmQd1ETEXScMYnRE7kja-KRa14-6zaVw_9GZGZimBgNfa5pmhZjoBI9JvgVmXnwD0-xTyUKksg3miUMP4K53b_iXZDfbyy8WhWQiuOsKy5O10bWEcsYitMegnwpUo8caw/s1600/IMG_2076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjYf0YG07aSVmQd1ETEXScMYnRE7kja-KRa14-6zaVw_9GZGZimBgNfa5pmhZjoBI9JvgVmXnwD0-xTyUKksg3miUMP4K53b_iXZDfbyy8WhWQiuOsKy5O10bWEcsYitMegnwpUo8caw/s320/IMG_2076.JPG" width="240" /></a>Color the page however you like, one truth remains; when young men don’t have proper role models and the women of a culture do not value a man for what he has to offer towards the upbringing and development of not just the child but the family, the system falls apart. Try teaching respect to children who run the home without a father present. Try encouraging young men to be good leaders when the only leader he knew was his mother who spoke ill of all men. Try telling an adolescent boy raised by a single mother that if he impregnates a young girl, he too holds a responsibility to love, care and protect child and mother; he would tell you that he isn’t needed. After all, his mom did it all without a man. Little boys don’t just grow up to treat women how they treat their moms; they grow up to treat their moms the way they see their fathers treating their moms, and their wives the same.</div>
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I thank God for being true man! I thank God that he is bigger than any feministic narrow minded b.s. and knew all our needs before we ourselves knew them. He knew we would need a true father. From stupid men who do not own their masculinity to stupid women who emasculate the men, God knew it only would take one perfect man to break that cycle of stupidity. One man to die. One man to humble himself in order that we might have an Eternal father in heaven. As I looked at those baseballs I felt a bit sad, but then I looked up and noticed down the isle was the font. The very place where we are made children of God and given back all that was lost and made heirs of our heavenly father. I’m so thankful this season no only for my earthly father, future husband, and all the other men who have looked to God first and foremost for an example of masculinity, but I am also thankful for my heavenly Father who is perfect Man for all and the One I can look to when other men fall short of knowing how to be man. </div>
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<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;">Matthew 23:9</span><span style="font-size: 16px;">Do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your Father, He who is in heaven.</span></h1>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-28478471354940636722015-10-08T06:02:00.000-07:002015-10-08T06:18:24.043-07:00ENCAUSTIC -An ode to my sister; the artist. For the celebration of her 34th year of life. <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(84, 84, 84); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #545454; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">
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It is funny how things in life artistically collide and life seems to play out like paint upon a canvas. At times things don’t always make sense, but then all of a sudden a splashing and whirlwind of colors adds chaos for a moment, and sense in the end. It’s like the shifting of nothingness, void, and silence to a cosmic clash of “Let there be” and there was.<br />
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<a href="webkit-fake-url://cfadef02-6878-4034-9f01-582665b2faa5/image.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I was reading Psalm 19 this morning and thinking about this beautiful wonderful world that we live in. That the sun and the moon and all that there is would proclaim a creator, would shout to a broken world; “There is a God, and my existence proves you are not it.”</a><br />
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In reading Psalm 19 this morning I could not help but think of the Scientist who dedicates his life to knowing and understanding the very workings and intricacies of science. He dedicates his life perhaps to one specific area, let’s say…the sun (for convenience sake). He masters his own understanding of the “sun” and it’s movements and makings. He knows it’s composition and where it sits in the heavens. He studies this ball of gas for the entirety of his life and enjoys it’s offerings and benefits until the day he dies. Assuming he is not a believer in intelligent design, he can’t tell you exactly how it came to be that this particular ball of gas, upon which the whole world is dependent came to be at it’s exact location, just far enough away from the earth to bring life. Moving just so to give us humans the exact amount of rest we need, and the earth the exact amount of light she needs. He would never tell you that the cosmic ball of gas is a way in which God cares for His creation. He would never tell you that that this specific star, bows lower than all the other stars because One made it to do so, and it’s very nature of being declares praise and honor to Him who created it because it responds to His voice of “Let there be.” It responds to His voice when He says; “arise shine,” in the new day. It responds just as those who were created by Him and know Him respond when he says “Get up and walk,” “Your sins are forgiven,” “Your faith has made you well.” In fact this scientist will never know anything beyond a textbook knowledge of the sun because he will never touch it and know it, nor know The very source of its light and the One who tames and claims the light.</div>
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The Scientist could never fully understand and master his knowledge of the sun because he is not master of it, and he doesn’t even associate himself with The Master. Nor are we truly master of anything in this life, which brings me back to my sister. She is an artist. An amazing one at that. The life and breath she gives to her art is amazing and continues to place me in awe and utter respect of her talents. She has an art show tomorrow and it is the hope (I believe) of every artist to sell their work so they may continue to dedicate their energies to that creative process. I imagine it to be a painful process of letting go. As I looked at the pieces she will display, I thought about how much I have left to pay off on my loans and wondered if I could buy any of her work. You see, to have a piece of her art for me, means something more than for someone else. That art is what takes her away from us. That art is a part of her. It is her time, her energies, her investment, and her expression and understanding of the world. To have a piece of it would be to see through a window into her brain, or to have a small marking of her upon this world, or to have a small piece of her with me. That is something money can’t pay for. At the same time this understanding of the artist and her work gives depth and breath to understanding a creating God, a sending God, and a sacrificial God (Just to be clear, I’m not calling my sister a God). </div>
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The investment of time and energy and being into a body of work, and she will put it out there to be admired, potentially bought, but also criticized. If bought, she will have to part with it for the sake of further creation. It’s funny how life naturally takes on an order and sacrificial system that gives testimony to what God has done, and continues to do for us. I doubt whoever buys her work will pay enough for it (even if they pay full price), nor will they appreciate it enough, but they and others will look upon it and wonder and marvel at it. Perhaps if they are reflective they might even think about the artist or creator and wonder what she is like, what caused her to create such bodies of work and where did her inspiration come from, and that will cause greater appreciation for the work. My sister is an amazing artist, but God is an amazing creator that breathed the breath of life into us, calls us His own, and sent us His son to die for us. Believers or not, we all sit beneath the same sun that gives life and light to all creation given by and giving testimony to One true God and creator of all. For that life and light that He gives, I give thanks, especially today; the day my sister; the artist was born. </div>
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<h1 class="passage-display" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin: 0px 0px 20px;">
<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;">Psalm 19</span><span class="passage-display-version" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline;">New King James Version (NKJV)</span></h1>
<h3 style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.55em; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">
<span class="text Ps-19-1" id="en-NKJV-14170" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">The Perfect Revelation of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span></h3>
<h4 class="psalm-title" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 1em;">
<span class="text Ps-19-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David.</span></h4>
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<div class="line" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="chapter-2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="text Ps-19-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="chapternum" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; bottom: 0.1em; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold; left: -3em; line-height: 0.8em; position: absolute;">19 </span>The heavens declare the glory of God;</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And the firmament shows His handiwork.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-2" id="en-NKJV-14171" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">2 </span>Day unto day utters speech,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And night unto night reveals knowledge.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-3" id="en-NKJV-14172" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">3 </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">There is</i> no speech nor language</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Where</i> their voice is not heard.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-4" id="en-NKJV-14173" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">4 </span>Their line<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NKJV-14173a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NKJV-14173a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm+19&version=NKJV#fen-NKJV-14173a" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</span> has gone out through all the earth,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And their words to the end of the world.</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-19-4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">In them He has set a tabernacle for the sun,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-5" id="en-NKJV-14174" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">5 </span>Which <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">And</i> rejoices like a strong man to run its race.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-6" id="en-NKJV-14175" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">6 </span>Its rising <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> from one end of heaven,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And its circuit to the other end;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And there is nothing hidden from its heat.</span></div>
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<div class="line" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="text Ps-19-7" id="en-NKJV-14176" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">7 </span>The law of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> perfect, converting the soul;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">The testimony of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> sure, making wise the simple;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-8" id="en-NKJV-14177" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">8 </span>The statutes of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">are</i> right, rejoicing the heart;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-8" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">The commandment of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> pure, enlightening the eyes;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-9" id="en-NKJV-14178" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">9 </span>The fear of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">is</i> clean, enduring forever;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-9" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">The judgments of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">are</i> true <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">and</i> righteous altogether.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-10" id="en-NKJV-14179" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">10 </span>More to be desired <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">are they</i> than gold,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-10" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Yea, than much fine gold;</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-10" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-11" id="en-NKJV-14180" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">11 </span>Moreover by them Your servant is warned,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-11" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">And</i> in keeping them <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">there is</i> great reward.</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-19-12" id="en-NKJV-14181" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">12 </span>Who can understand <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">his</i> errors?</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-12" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Cleanse me from secret <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">faults.</i></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-13" id="en-NKJV-14182" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">13 </span>Keep back Your servant also from presumptuous <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">sins;</i></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-13" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Let them not have dominion over me.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-13" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Then I shall be blameless,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-13" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">And I shall be innocent of great transgression.</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-19-14" id="en-NKJV-14183" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">14 </span>Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-14" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">Be acceptable in Your sight,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-19-14" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">O <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, my strength and my Redeemer.</span></div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-15569383790965366572015-07-10T06:47:00.001-07:002015-07-10T06:57:03.721-07:00Wash, Rinse, Repeat....<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So here I go! New city same old mental struggles. It’s so frustrating when you seem to get over one difficulty you find yourself facing the same problem all over again. The scene looks different, but it deceives you into making the same mistakes. I don’t know about you, but “fresh” starts never really worked for me, my room always ended up messy like before, and my bad habits always manage to creep in. Sort of like moving to a new city with a bag full of hopes and dreams, only to find that doubt, fear, laziness, anger, and all forms of insecurity weren’t left behind but crept into the bag as well. Shouldn’t problems be like a bridge? Once you get over them it’s done? </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Every day I wake up I find the vulgar saying of “Same (insert strong word for fecal mater) different day” to be true. I still have to learn Spanish, and now I have to adjust to a new accent. I still have to get up in the morning, I still have to cook my own meals and put my pants on one leg at a time. That’s not what is hard though. What is hard is when you wake up and realize your a big sinner that has fallen into the same patterns and ways of thinking as before.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I was doing it all right! Even better than before in my eyes! I was reading my Bible, praying on a regular basis, studying and seeking other ways in which I might grow in what I had learned. What I found wasn’t peace, but that I was trying to justify old sins with new Godly habits. “I’m submerged in the Word of God, I’m doing what it takes to be a “Good Christian” so God is on my side and knows all that I am doing, right? So He will take care of it.” Except when He doesn’t, because sometimes he wont. Sometimes God is silent.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> I found that sometimes when I think I am fully leaning on God I am really leaning on my own ability to lean upon Him. It’s like I embrace my need for Him and even take pride in it, when He would have me learn better how to lean on Him. I guess you could say it is like using God as a crutch when He is so much more for us. Sometimes I pridefully think I have mastered the crutch, and then I realize I need two crutches, or a wheelchair or something else. My wonderful “husband to be” reminded me of a great quote by Luther while trying to comfort me. He said; “Katie, remember what Luther said” I was being smart with him and responded with “Which time?” and he lovingly carried me through what he wanted to share and said; “He said; ‘pray as if everything depends upon God, and live as if everything depends on you.” At first I thought “Well I would rather just pray” but with some reflection I realized I had been living as if everything depended on God, and praying as if it all depended upon me. As if God would fix my situation because; Hey! I asked. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The wonderful thing about our God is that he does not rob us of our abilities to do things of our own while He walks with us. Like Adam and Eve when he let them loose in the garden and trusted them knowing full well where it would lead them. Like Aslan, our God is not a tame lion. He may listen when we call, but may not always answer. He is not at our bidding. He is like the “abusive” parent that teaches their children by letting them fall and hurt themselves so they know better when to ask for help (I’m using the word “abusive” sarcastically). He gives us all that we need to support this body and life, it is up to us to know how to use what He has given us, and not abuse it or think we play some passive role in it all while waiting for God to fix it all. Our God allows us to ask great things, and our God is so great, that He would use us to carry out those great things despite ourselves. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"><b> </b></span>And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.</div>
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When He rose up from prayer, and had come to His disciples, He found them sleeping from sorrow.Then He said to them, “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray, lest you enter into temptation.”</div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-15911663835131198292015-06-04T07:53:00.000-07:002015-06-04T07:53:50.963-07:00Well…let’s just say this is the ‘new normal’<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
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Based on the title, I bet you think this is going to be something on the whole Jenner sex change thing. Well…to be honest the whole story makes me sick to my stomach and sad. I feel helpless in that battle and desperate to defend my own sex, but my own sex sort of bashed what makes woman wonderful by getting caught up on making women equal. So that battle is lost. No, I wanted to focus on something different and encouraging to remind us that the “old normal” can be enough for us to deal with without needing a “new normal” to have to wrap our minds around. </div>
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I was at church on Sunday and went to go greet one of my friends. As I drew in for a hug an offensive smell of nasty old perfume hit my nostrils, it was a smell I didn’t catch until it was too late. It doesn’t matter if you are a “hugger” or not, we all know what it is to hug someone and all a sudden you have their smell in your nose for the whole day. I make a conscious effort to smell good most days. I remember sitting at a luncheon (of some wonderful lovely ladies who I am sure read this blog!) and one of the women around the table made mention that someone smelled good. I had some bath and body lotion on, so I said; “Oh, it might be me! I have some lotion on” to which the kind wonderful good humored lady said; “Oh no Katie, I don’t think it is you. No offense, but this smells expensive!” From that day I made a bit more of an effort to smell “expensive” too. I also recall coming home last year and one of my favorite things to do when waiting in the airport is to go to those duty free shops and smell all the expensive (on a whole new level) perfumes. I recall thinking on this one particular trip home that I wanted a bouquet of wonderful aromas to hit my nieces nose when she saw me for the first time in almost a year. I remember thinking when I was little how important smell was towards knowing and understanding people. Mrs. Neighbor; she smelled soft and light a lot like her personality. Then there was a teachers aid that always smelled of winter fresh gum, which fit because she was fresh and young too. My cousin smelled of CoolWater perfume which was cool, because she was and is cool. My grandmother smelled of Elizabeth Arden’s “Red Door” and my mom smelled of cinnamon gum and soft lotions while my father smelled of Old English or Old Spice. I wanted Junie to smell something exotic, fresh and fun so that when she saw her aunt she would associate those smells with me. </div>
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So now that you understand the importance of smell to my senses, let me return to the earlier story. Needless to say, I smelled “expensive” on Sunday, until I was hugged by the earlier mentioned person. It is interesting to think of the engagement our senses have in something as simple as a hug. When you hug someone who smells soft it is like being wrapped in a warm blanket that just came out of the dryer and smells clean and fresh. When you hug someone that smells like Winterfresh gum you suddenly feel rejuvenated and like maybe you need a piece of gum too. When you hug someone with fresh, floral scents, an imagery of floating flowers ascending and streamers of bright colors floating from the warm embrace fill your mind. A bit cheesy; yes! But, when you hug someone with stinky perfume that counteracts with your “expensive” perfume and lingers with you all day, that just stinks; literally! No pun intended. </div>
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So I tried to wrap my mind around what this scent bore with it, and I found a lesson. I realized that sometimes we don’t like certain smells but we bear with them. A diaper for example; I remember my friend jokingly telling me once that “God knew I needed cute kids” because they can be such little stinkers sometimes, but there is a level of truth in that. What happens when we take away the cuteness and we take away the beauty and all we are left with is a big pile of stink? I think that is what my true scent would be. It makes sense why churches use incense. I was told it was to help us transcend and understand that we enter into a holy space, I think in all reality it also has to do with a masking of all the stinky perfumes that you smell around you, and all the bad b.o. that people bring with them into the church. So we continue with an age old tradition of masking the smell and stench of our sin. We cover it up and call it “the new normal,” “expensive” or “fresh.” when if you take it away, all we are left with is a bunch of sinners seeking acceptance from our brother as opposed to our God.</div>
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I recall my father doing a reoccurring advent devotion for the high school youth on how Christ in the flesh is significant for us because it means he is intimately connected and understanding of what it means to be human. He knows what it means to wake up with morning breath, to smell and feel like you need a shower at the end of the day, to feel trapped inside a body that doesn’t quite feel right. He also knows what it means to smell of heaven, to be holy, to not just be covered with a smell, but to be wrapped in it and exuding that smell. I often wonder what hugging Jesus might have been like. Would it have been like hugging someone who smelled of sweat, earth, and garlic, or perhaps there was a bit more to who he was as a human. A smell that transcends scent and not only embraces you, but also offends you because you are confronted with your own sin. You are confronted with something that reminds you that you really don’t smell so “expensive” and your neighbor doesn’t really smell of “old nasty perfume.” You are reminded of your need to bathe, and your inability to wash that nasty scent away. Christ calls us to sit among sinners and to even hug them in a way so as their scent messes our own up and makes us uncomfortable. We are to love our neighbor that much, because Christ loved us that much. I can’t say that I am always good about that, understanding, or embracing of that truth. But I am thankful that on account of Christ’s sacrifice, we obtain a sweet aroma pleasing and acceptable to the Lord. We don’t need a “new normal.” We have the age old Holy One of Israel who covers us and makes us clean even when we thought we had come to Church in our Sunday best. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><b>15 </b></span>For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. <span style="font-size: 12px;"><b>16 </b></span>To the one <i>we are</i> the aroma of death <i>leading</i> to death, and to the other the aroma of life <i>leading</i> to life. And who <i>is</i> sufficient for these things? <span style="font-size: 12px;"><b>17 </b></span>For we are not, as so many,<span style="font-size: 10px;">[</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(99, 30, 22); color: #631e16; font-size: 10px;">a</span><span style="font-size: 10px;">]</span> peddling the word of God; but as of sincerity, but as from God, we speak in the sight of God in Christ.</span></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-16597281984597933172015-04-03T10:33:00.002-07:002015-04-03T12:06:29.058-07:00For all Fridays....<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTSc95Mopp-fkjYrJRrgJyg4C7Nrpqzv18BeqrHrYnLzq23HNxEI0jHSt4rvCyZHIccygGwKngG03c09CYKdNw7tRKqHLcXIb4liLcQrmM2XP-EN3gUa4vM_iVGlpLNTjRjm_tHG9qn0/s1600/DSC01215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTSc95Mopp-fkjYrJRrgJyg4C7Nrpqzv18BeqrHrYnLzq23HNxEI0jHSt4rvCyZHIccygGwKngG03c09CYKdNw7tRKqHLcXIb4liLcQrmM2XP-EN3gUa4vM_iVGlpLNTjRjm_tHG9qn0/s1600/DSC01215.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>Today during the Good Friday sermon (We had service early in the morning here), my mind began to wander as it often does. Today during the sermon, I thought; “What would be, and is most important and essential to communicate to the people here on a Good Friday morning in the Dominican Republic. I thought about how many of them were probably thinking about what they were going to do after the service, and maybe they were thinking about going swimming or to the beach after the service. I started to think about how the service and life in the Dominican look so different from what I used to know. Then I started to think about what it was that Christ would have been thinking in the moment of his suffering. </div>
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While all the rest of us were thinking of something else, what was he thinking? I don’t think he was held up on the cross thinking thoughts of pity towards his killers, nor in want of physical need, nor in torment of spiritual and emotional sorts, or even what he would do as soon as he got back to heaven. I think he was thinking of the final word more than anything. I think he was thinking of the point, the goal, and the end of it all. I think he was thinking of me and you by thinking of that final word he spoke upon the cross, and when he said it, he was saying it for me and for you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sEr-QyHXZAnPnAHUvRF8m1_NkciarP0IX0sD9gtdi-5uVP7xr8h3Gjr6saXfnMg575okBWeeZMnRW9cCfVIXsS3LUQmxJXAb6B33WUKBfET_U9nO-c7SptR0wEPjYpgCjXsOzoVGoJ4/s1600/DSC00086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sEr-QyHXZAnPnAHUvRF8m1_NkciarP0IX0sD9gtdi-5uVP7xr8h3Gjr6saXfnMg575okBWeeZMnRW9cCfVIXsS3LUQmxJXAb6B33WUKBfET_U9nO-c7SptR0wEPjYpgCjXsOzoVGoJ4/s1600/DSC00086.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>While the rest of us sit and think of things during the sermon, like the absence of a loved one, the death of another, the illness of a beloved, or simply the plans for the day, Christ cries “It is accomplished” over us. Why is this so significant? It is significant and important because when he said those words upon the cross, they were words for all time. It was a declaration and a war cry to say; this is what I came for and not only is the task completed, but those things that we sit and think about have been accomplished in Him. While we focus on ourselves, He was focusing on us and our need for him. He hung, and died on the cross, knowing he had to do it, and that he would say those words on the cross and that we would be reconciled to him. He set his eyes upon an end goal and while the words of “it is accomplished” must have settled on the ears of onlookers as a fine ending to a story, it became a declaration for all stories past, present and future. Our sins have been removed; it is accomplished. Our salvation has been won, it is accomplished. The scriptures were fulfilled, it is accomplished. The power once held over us by sin, death, and the devil have been defeated, it is accomplished. This Friday is especially “good” because we remember the victory gained and accomplished for us, and thanks be to God for this Jesus Christ who has done it and done all things for us, and done them well. </div>
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<span class="text Mark-7-36" id="en-NIV-24500" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">36 </span>Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-24500A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24500A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">(<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+7:36-37&version=NIV#cen-NIV-24500A" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)</span> But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it.</span><span class="text Mark-7-37" id="en-NIV-24501" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">37 </span>People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”</span></div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-14710503501514849322015-02-13T10:24:00.000-08:002015-02-13T10:24:22.006-08:00The Terrifying Heights and Depths of Love<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not too happy about leaving...</td></tr>
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These past few months have been a series of new experiences for me. I have experienced a lot of firsts; first boyfriend, first time in Argentina, first view of one of the seven wonders of the world, and first kiss….opps….WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!!! Besides, we don’t do that, we just hold hands. Anyway, this being my first relationship I am finding new things to worry about. There is a deep fear I know now that I knew very little of before. When I was young I used to have these entertainings of “what if’s” that I would play out in my mind. I would think “What if someone I love dies!?” Now, with a hope of “till death do us part” in view, I face those fears again and multiplied by ten. We often think of this promise carrying us into our old age. He’s supposed to be the one beside me and I by him supporting one another as life comes and goes. So I have these visions of him holding me when my dad dies. Then what? What about when mom dies, or if we loose a child, or the worst fear of all, if he dies and then there is none beside me!? When these thoughts come upon me I realize that it is a dangerous thing to love another. A terrifying, dangerous and paralyzing thing to truly love another. So while more often than not, our fears remain fears and only cost us energy, it raises another question for me; how dangerous is my love for Christ? If this is the fear I have for the man that God placed in my life, what is the fear for The God Man who laid down His life for me? Is there a fear? If love is truly a dangerous thing, and Christ is perfect love, what does it all mean? </div>
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I was reminded of one of my favorite authors who once wrote about a fear using the illustration of a pair of pale green pants. The story is about a little boy who finds a pair of pale green pants with nobody inside them and it frightens him. He runs from the pants until he discovers that there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place (In case you haven’t figured it out, that favorite author is none other than Dr. Seuss). These fears that I have might be nothing more than pale green pants with nobody inside them, there may not be anything to support these fears that I have, but what is more, is there is One who says there is nothing to even be afraid of. There is nothing to be afraid of because Perfect love casts out all fear. So when I was worrying about finding someone to share the rest of my life with, His perfect love was as work. While I am worrying and afraid of loosing the one I hope to spend the rest of my life with, His perfect love is at work. When one of the two of us who are given to other dies, His perfect love will be working. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but then we got another day together!</td></tr>
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His love is dangerous and terrifying because, His love promises to be there even when the other loves fade, weaken, or die. Whats terrifying is that His love will be enough even when all we want is that hand to hold, the person to hug, or to see our children alive. What is terrifying is that we have to face the pale green pants with nobody inside them, and know that even if there was support for them, even if those pants take on a form and are filled with someone so strong to kick us down, we can face them and be kicked down because He was struck down first for us to offer us eternity. I pray our greatest fears never take form and kick us down, and for those of you for whom they already have, I pray His grace be sufficient for you and His power made perfect in your weakness. Whats terrifying is loving the One who made the universe, trusting that He still holds this fragile world, and our frail flesh in His hands, and trusting that He will bring us safely home. What is terrifying is trusting the life of another to the One Who loved us with His own life. </div>
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There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.</div>
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Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-42104576426895227232015-02-03T16:37:00.000-08:002015-02-03T16:48:41.365-08:00Lessons learned......<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwgCw4-Xq_grqxj2jD2jq4CK-T9NWSP1Eijrxg5qzbQeU83QcOZH5TqKVobL65FZftdMANTDdlqFz_8Buq5lXMp0-72opcJkx7KaGuBRMDXNpxSCoI9KiJJqw-1JuWCmP2W3S-WOBF9U/s1600/DSC00406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwgCw4-Xq_grqxj2jD2jq4CK-T9NWSP1Eijrxg5qzbQeU83QcOZH5TqKVobL65FZftdMANTDdlqFz_8Buq5lXMp0-72opcJkx7KaGuBRMDXNpxSCoI9KiJJqw-1JuWCmP2W3S-WOBF9U/s1600/DSC00406.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>Now, for the whole world to know; I am engaged to a fine young man from Argentina who I was blessed to be able to spend some time with here in the states this past January. In that time we spent some time at my parents house. My parents have a dog. Her name is Ruby. Ruby has taught us many wonderful things and has made us quite frustrated with other things through the years. Ruby is a fine specimen but her family has made her fat and quite honestly put her at risk for many future health problems. The main problem is that Ruby is not taken on regular walks like she should be. My mother’s arm is weak and her pride too great to be taken on a walk by a dog. My fathers knees are bad, and his preferred form of exercise is the stationary bike. My excuse is that I am hardly home, although even when I am home my patience is so thin and motivation too low so that when I do finally get the urge to run or walk, I prefer to go solo and not have to control a dog. These past few weeks with my dear, sweet, saint of a fiancé in town, showed me something new. Roberto, my saint of a fiancé promised to take Ruby on a walk every day he was around. He held his promise and I affectionately started to refer to Ruby as “The other woman.” I went on some of those walks with Ruby and Roberto (Oh dear! Those names have a nice ring to them!). I watched as Roberto delighted in Ruby. He didn’t try to tame the beast, he just let her be. There was a careless freedom about her and I started to realize all these years there were two ways to walk with Ruby; She could take you for a walk, or you could let her walk. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotBJGUUw9QurcykLV15EAXSCyBsT7xj1oyyw2u5EcgX1m2bgXTvboQYqR6jpN9kVnVNLTe86w1nXWPc0MbQ9U7hWtEHNJSy1epUQzNzduAKSj4T4xMieAx1c5IokFQT1TMRf5_NUYDK8/s1600/DSC00448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotBJGUUw9QurcykLV15EAXSCyBsT7xj1oyyw2u5EcgX1m2bgXTvboQYqR6jpN9kVnVNLTe86w1nXWPc0MbQ9U7hWtEHNJSy1epUQzNzduAKSj4T4xMieAx1c5IokFQT1TMRf5_NUYDK8/s1600/DSC00448.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3rehtDAXNzF0hGAdpw8jcwsCa1fUoecqtSFB-1MgWOT-Ml2g0EI6iXIMTfkzNfhBgZIN4VKjHWjTHu_yT7lUmPvWABk9ktoXkKhpMJq9T_m7Bj87TOF7GQ6YY3Z0zjtJj8lVble8wkU/s1600/DSC00447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3rehtDAXNzF0hGAdpw8jcwsCa1fUoecqtSFB-1MgWOT-Ml2g0EI6iXIMTfkzNfhBgZIN4VKjHWjTHu_yT7lUmPvWABk9ktoXkKhpMJq9T_m7Bj87TOF7GQ6YY3Z0zjtJj8lVble8wkU/s1600/DSC00447.JPG" height="112" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Often we joke about how you don’t walk Ruby, she walks you. That is to say, she pulls you along and makes it hard to keep up. She is so strong and fast. I took Ruby for a walk today and instead of yelling, and pulling on her leash and trying to maintain her, I let her pull me and I laughed instead. It was freeing to think; she is who she is and there really isn’t anything too wrong with that. She is a dog, she is supposed to bark, and run, and be an animal, I don’t need to try to tame her. We go to a corn field where I often let her run wild. My dad claims that Ruby smiles. I think he is right. I watched Ruby run through the field with what seemed to be a smile on her face and I realized what a disservice I have done to her and to myself. She ran and bit at the snow, she sniffed out tracks. She was made to be excited, and happy to serve her master in retrieving things. We have tried to turn her into a garbage disposal, and a tame type of companion. Watching her be so happy made me happy. It gave me a small sense of gratification in seeing her run like a child without a care in the world. I let her walk, or rather run. Then, she walked with me for the remainder of the way home. </div>
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It seems to me that we could say God is that way with us, but I think He calls us to be that way with others. I realized in watching Roberto and Ruby that Roberto is the type of person that looks at others for the good and mirth God placed in them. I have been reminded by my family that Roberto is a wonderful man and it makes me wonder how many faults he has already overlooked deciding to delight in my redeemable qualities. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n0vSb-V5wpzSF725QttcP9G2Qry9bsCiQ5e7kt0a2IMSYO0q2enNC-vsImBqClB2YB26rkTepDFTEZezWjQMIKiJZroiGCv3S41-L_hUIKq4fJa6PthyphenhyphenZnuFmt3jyXOx6XMI1KmlGUQ/s1600/IMG_9380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n0vSb-V5wpzSF725QttcP9G2Qry9bsCiQ5e7kt0a2IMSYO0q2enNC-vsImBqClB2YB26rkTepDFTEZezWjQMIKiJZroiGCv3S41-L_hUIKq4fJa6PthyphenhyphenZnuFmt3jyXOx6XMI1KmlGUQ/s1600/IMG_9380.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jIgN-F8AQrJN5HuQtwuojP3CYvFfrFUeqUzBBF4GbGXoyjX4iJdz7AJgeKlDpJxJpcWQLNdV-eDMx2I2IukbyEdEs1vVld3g_aGAYTi2OKiecWk3udYF9-n7U0xyzMDPqd32XNXHpQs/s1600/DSC00445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jIgN-F8AQrJN5HuQtwuojP3CYvFfrFUeqUzBBF4GbGXoyjX4iJdz7AJgeKlDpJxJpcWQLNdV-eDMx2I2IukbyEdEs1vVld3g_aGAYTi2OKiecWk3udYF9-n7U0xyzMDPqd32XNXHpQs/s1600/DSC00445.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>We often create standards and worlds for ourselves that demand that others fit into them, not that we adjust to fit into others worlds. We have to have things just so, or under our control. Ruby is still a naughty dog that needs correction, but she also obtains qualities and characteristics that will not change despite my many attempts to change her. This is not a plea for coexistence or tolerance or any of the other words society has used to make the profane holy acceptable and pleasing in the eyes of all people even Christians. This is to say that perhaps our love for others is limited by an inability to recall that we are all sinners and all have fallen short of the glory of God. Meaning; what if we learned from Roberto and Ruby and allowed ourselves to be uncomfortable with other sinners, and know that God doesn’t just call us to know that we are redeemed, but to know that others are redeemed as well. God calls us to help our brother to live in that new identity just as we live in our own baptismal identity. </div>
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<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;">Philippians 2:14-16</span><span class="text Phil-2-14" id="en-NKJV-29406" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Do all things without complaining and disputing, </span><span class="text Phil-2-15" id="en-NKJV-29407" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, </span><span class="text Phil-2-16" id="en-NKJV-29408" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">holding fast the word of life, so that I may rejoice in the day of Christ that I have not run in vain or labored in vain.</span></h1>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5367017207957765298.post-8451014940040578302014-11-04T07:37:00.003-08:002014-11-04T07:37:47.134-08:00My passion....My soapbox <div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Her name was Merry. I’m not even sure I spelled that right. She was almost 20 and had been unable to do anything alone for the past few years. She was dying of a tumor that had metastasized from her spine. I looked at her as she lay in her hospital bed in a pink lingerie nighty. A nighty most women her age would be using to start a life not to end one. Her weak and formless body slipped around and didn’t even fill out the nighty, but it was all she had to cover her nakedness. It didn’t matter to her. She was fully cognizant of what was going on even though she couldn’t see, and the tumor had taken most of her ability to converse, and control bodily movements. She died two days before I could get back for the funeral.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the course of one year, I have seen far more tragic deaths in the small community of Palmar Arriba than I have in twenty years following at the heels of my father in church work. I have seen death that tragically left a disabled son behind literally in an empty house with minimal care and no ability to care for self. I have seen death that left four children as orphans in a foreign country without proper documentation of original citizenship to find work. I have seen death that left a mother no longer knowing if she could be deemed a “mother” since she no longer had a child. I have also seen death leave it’s mark upon the cross beam of a wooden home, as one claimed their own life by hanging. Death claims so many lives and leaves the living left to live on. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have been thinking a lot about Brittany Maynard and the whole raising of awareness of “death with dignity” and how in many ways our culture tries to glorify the grotesque by eliminating the perceived grossness. In other words, we sterilize and eliminate and neatly package everything. That is what we like to do best. We value a story that we can neatly put in a history book, concepts that we can concretely rationalize, and theory that can be solved. So, when we can’t do it, we must resolve it by eliminating it. For example; what is the cure for a terminal illness without a cure? A pill that will make it so that it wasn’t the illness that took the life, and so the illness can’t run it’s natural course. We outsmart the illness by killing the subject before it can run it’s full course. The humanitarian response is that we are compassionately preserving the person as they were and eliminating the unforeseeable future of pain, allowing the person to make a decision as to if they wish to be a martyr or if they wish to “die with dignity.” Surrender to defeat before the whole country falls. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We used to believe that the winners were the ones who did not give up, now we glitz over and offer a way out of the long drawn out battle of death and call it; “death with dignity.” It is difficult to step back and have an objective perspective where my personal religious core values don’t take front and center in how I reason this approach to terminal illness. Being a Christian is who I am, it is within my identity. I can be no other, but I can see where a rational mind would need a rational explanation, and I feel sorry for them, but what we have here is not being called what it is... “ugly.” I’ll go out on a limb and call it as it is; sin, and we can’t think for a minute that Christian freedom is freedom to make a decision on ending a life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have been trying to sort out in my mind what makes the death I have seen in the Dominican different from that in the states. When I first started attending funerals here in the Dominican, they were earthy. To be honest, I was afraid I would contract some sort of disease just from being present. Funerals here carry the weight and reality of death. They are disturbing, crud and there is no sense of dignity what so ever. The bodies are not done up and preserved as they are in the states. A funeral here is fast and furious as the heat demands a quick burial. As we all know, a body that is not embalmed will begin to decay, rot, and to smell. As time has passed and I have attended more and more funerals, the earthiness has not passed but my understanding has. These funerals may be without glamor, golden coffins, beautiful tributes of memory, but they do hold love. They hold love that survives death, and carries the loved one to the ground in a wooden box. It is a love that stands in the dirt and is willing make dirty the bottoms of their heels and trims of their robes because in the end, love itself is not packaged neatly but it is as strong as death. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now, funerals Stateside have become a difficult concept for me. They are sterile. As I listen to those defending the decision of Brittany Maynard, I can’t help but just feel sorry for the misunderstanding. We are trying so hard to preserve and protect some form of perfection in the states. An image of plastic. We consider a terminal illness that will result in the loss of control in bowels, bladder, and other faculties as a grounds for a decision to die sooner rather than later. So what is to stop us from allowing a child with a debilitating disability, fully dependent upon a caregiver from being allowed to make a decision to take their own life of for the caregiver to decide “enough is enough?” How do we rationally explain that we would permit someone with cognitive ability to decide to “close up shop” before the sun has gone down and not another? What stops us from terminating the life of another if we deem it not worth living or that it might cause more pain and suffering should it remain...oh wait...nothing has stopped us. What is to keep us from going down a path of every man determining for himself what deems a life worth living? Then again; we are on that path. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> As I look to the poor economic, earthy conditions of the Dominican, I feel sorry for the States. Wealth has given us an idiotic idea that everything must glitter as gold, up unto our dying breath. We can’t accept flaws, and this includes a notion that we can’t accept that anyone might be wrong in a personal decision. We have adopted a “no no...they are fine...just leave them alone....it is their decision.” Fine; it is their decision, but when did we stop counseling, caring, and loving a person in a way that says; “it may be your decision but it affects me too because I love you that much” when did we start to place conditions on love that said, “I will love you till death do us part....unless we find out in five years that we have unreconcilable differences, or after 10 that you aren’t as beautiful as the day I married you” when did our love become so fickle that we would not endure in sickness as in health, remembering that part of the bad is what makes the good. Or as C.S. Lewis’ character played by Anthony Hopkins says in “Shadowlands;” “Twice in that life I've been given the choice, as a boy and as a man, the boy chose safety the man choses suffering the pain now is part of the happiness, thats the deal.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Those who are speaking out for a right to a “death with dignity” still mourn the death of those who “died with dignity.” I have a theory that perhaps an organic death, as ugly as it is provides a process of letting go. Seeing a loved one suffering prepares the living and the dying for a better place, a brighter hope, and a celestial home. It allows the grieving process to be more natural and beneficial. We always suffer, but we suffer more when we respond in selfishness gilded as being “merciful.” We tell people they are brave for enduring with a loved one who chooses to take their own life because they no longer wish to be a burden, nor to suffer the pain of terminal illness. But, what if the caring for the terminally ill is a healing process for the well, and the sufferings of the terminally ill is a gift to those who care. Love comes from both sides; both suffer, but in the end, both receive and know a more full joy and there is more peace in the parting. We fail to understand that suffering produces character, perseverance, and endurance. We fail to follow the advice of those stupid motivational posters that promote strength, endurance, and perseverance in the face of difficulties. Sure we agree with them as long as what is produced is measurable, but when it comes to the end of life, where there is nothing left to do but die, we fail to see the value and merit in that, yet, that is where it all lies. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Brittany had a chance to receive the care of her mother once more as a child in need. I have no doubt her mother would have relished the bittersweet opportunity to care once again for her only child. She had an opportunity to resolve and show her parents what it means to die well, perhaps not with dignity, but with love. She had an opportunity to recognize that goals are more than a bucket list of dreams and achievements, but can also be a natural running of courses and an opportunity to build character and perseverance, she chose not to. That was her choice, not her mothers, not even her husbands choice who she also made a choice to be “one” with. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So this is the choice we wish to give society; To remove all pain. To remove all doubt, and to allow a person to be the author of their own story and death. This however fails to acknowledge that others suffer, others are strong where one is weak, and others can rise to the occasion and others are a part of the story. I’m not sure I believe in an autonomous society, or individual for that matter. We depend more on others than we realize. I pray America does not become so isolated and individualistic to the point of every man writing their own law, but then again, I fear we are already down that path. United we stand, divided we fall. We are loosing a sense of communal rejoicing, and communal suffering. We can’t reap the benefits of one without the other. This is why we fight wars together, and celebrate independence together. Shouldn’t it be the same in other areas of life? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This is m</span>y passion and why this blog exists....to encourage the restless until we rest in Him. </div>
Kate Zieglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566037075447516230noreply@blogger.com1