tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26407088269832423382024-03-13T12:36:48.648-07:00Carrie His PraisesSeeking after God's heart and bringing glory to Him in the processCarrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.comBlogger513125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-80378268360505249332020-04-11T10:14:00.002-07:002020-04-11T10:14:25.270-07:00Let's Get Ready to Celebrate<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<img alt="Image may contain: cloud, ocean, sky, outdoor, nature and water" height="133" src="https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/92756568_2617106058395027_3671480049124507648_o.jpg?_nc_cat=104&_nc_sid=8024bb&_nc_ohc=5YdvJ0jmy0gAX8XH1NY&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&oh=19fc835ea60c529b52110d20418945f3&oe=5EB74EEE" style="background-color: transparent;" width="200" />"Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea, and he himself was waiting for the kingdom of God. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.</div>
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The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment." Luke 23:50-56</div>
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It feels somber, doesn't it?</div>
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Even this morning as I read what happened after Jesus' death, it seemed to sink in. For what may be the first time ever, we are experiencing the solemness of the day after his death. Can you imagine the grief when they woke up that day? Maybe they never even slept. Maybe too grief-stricken, his followers sobbed all night. Maybe by the time dawn broke, reality started to sink in. Today feels a little like what I imagine that day to have felt like.</div>
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We aren't rushing off to the stores to fight off crowds and grab last-minute Easter goodies. We aren't bustling around making all the plans for baskets and meals and activities. We aren't hopping from one egg hunt to the next. We're not laying out new Easter outfits and getting the family ready for pictures.</div>
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It's another day. Another ordinary day. Another stay-at-home day. Yet there's something about this day that beckons we pay homage to its solemness. In our bustling activities we often lose sight of the cross. In our brand new outfits we usually forget what we're celebrating. In our celebrations we often get carried away; far away from the magnitude of the cross, the crucifixion, the sacrifice, and the grave.</div>
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We forget the depth of His love. We lose sight of God's plan. We neglect to realize the supernatural resurrection power.</div>
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Don't forget. Don't lose sight. Don't give up hope.</div>
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Tomorrow is still Easter regardless of where or how we celebrate. Tomorrow is still the day we come together even in our isolation and join as His Church, His Body, to celebrate our risen Savior. We know it's going to look and feel different, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still bear witness to the greatest Story we could ever tell.</div>
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You may be grieving today. It may feel somber, solemn, empty. It may seem like something is missing because it is. We are missing each other, missing our churches, missing our communal gatherings and celebrations. But even in the emptiness and isolation, we can more fully identify in His suffering.</div>
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We are His people and while today may not feel like a celebration, tomorrow is coming. Ready or not, let's join together and worship Him. Let our voices rise from our couches and penetrate the walls of our homes. Let His Spirit transcend the confinement we face and unite us as one body, His bride. Let's get ready to worship our risen Lord. Let us embrace one another in virtual accord as we come together to celebrate Easter!</div>
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God is not dead, He is surely alive! He's living inside of each of us who have called upon Him to save us from our sins. He dwells in us and among us and He is not dictated by any time, space, restriction, or executive order. He is the Alpha Omega, the First and Last. He is the Lamb who was slain, and the Conqueror of Death. He is the Resurrected King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Let us rejoice and celebrate!</div>
Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-44603096356840498212020-04-09T11:23:00.004-07:002020-04-09T11:23:52.958-07:00This is Me<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I haven’t had much to say lately. If I’m being honest, things have been wonderfully hard. I recognize the dichotomy in that phrase alone and it’s exactly what I mean. There’s so much going on in my life, in our home, in our family, and it kind of goes back to when we talked about comparative grief. What I’m facing isn’t the same as what others are facing...but it’s been difficult for me. It’s a season and I know it’s one that everyone is experiencing and reacting to differently.</div>
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It hit me hard when a friend talked about my personality being productive and positive when some people are having a hard time getting out of bed. When I heard someone else say she hasn’t put on makeup or real clothes in two weeks, it dawned on me that I must be somewhere in the distinct minority of people who have just gone about my days and weeks doing my best to adjust.</div>
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It’s true. My personality finds me in the epitome of a 3 on the Enneagram, pushing through, pressing on, making the best of things and not just the most it. I cook, clean, and bake feverishly with the energy I feel. I put my effort into crafts and activities. I feel lazy for sitting on the couch. I will forever seek to be the cheer captain. It is my nature to look for the positive and choose joy. It is a part of my genetic makeup to see the good and look for the blessings. It’s just how I’m wired. Realizing this may be drastically different from many others has somewhat paralyzed me for fear of saying the wrong thing.</div>
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I think if you’ve read any number of my posts or if you know me at all, you know my heart is never to hurt or harm. It’s never to convict or cast stones. I’m not trying to put on a show or pretend like everything is always good. I feel deeply. All the feelings. This week they’ve all been piling up on me.</div>
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Navigating job situations, feeling the pull to be in two places at once, homeschooling, everyone at home, missing family and friends, and even the magnitude of our churches not being together on Easter have all hit me hard this week. Even as I seek to reflect and remember all this Easter week means to me and my relationship with Christ, it’s left a different kind of pressure to figure out how to make it special and memorable and meaningful while at home. And since I’m being completely honest, I found myself coming up empty A LOT, only to realize I’ve tried numerous times to rely on my own strength.</div>
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It’s a lot, isn’t it? I know it feels heavy. I’ve never meant for it to seem like I’m just going about life as normal. I am getting up and going on each day, doing my best to make the best AND the most of it. But I know that’s not the same for everyone. I know it’s hard. I know getting up and facing another day can be paralyzing. I know the magnitude of this is affecting everyone differently. I understand even I truly don’t experience it the same way. I sympathize AND empathize.</div>
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What I also recognize is we will all respond differently. We all have different complications and pressures facing us. And no matter how different we are or how we feel and react, When our strength is gone, when we can’t even muster the energy to get out of bed, we can call upon the power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead! (Romans 8:11)</div>
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Please don’t feel sorry for me. Please don’t be upset if my energy or positivity doesn’t match yours. Please don’t judge me if we respond differently. I simply want us all to realize we are preparing to celebrate our risen Savior. We know He rose and conquered death and sin and that is the same power we have within us if we have accepted His gift of salvation.</div>
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Claim it. Know it. Believe it. Even when you don’t feel it. Trust it. Trust HIM. His power is limitless even when you have no strength. This is why we celebrate. This is why we have hope. This is Easter.</div>
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Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-78488744780587890842020-04-04T08:29:00.001-07:002020-04-04T08:35:09.793-07:00Sunday Morning WorshipOur Sundays look different, don't they? At least they do for us.<br />
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The first Sunday didn't feel as different for me because I was still a part of the small team who showed up to lead worship. Singing in an empty sanctuary didn't feel weird because I still felt His presence. I hoped and prayed it was felt through everyone's screen.<br />
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The next Sunday found me at home and not sure what to do with myself. My daughter didn't know what to do with herself, either. She wanted to see her friends and I tried to console her as she cried in the middle of the floor. We decided to get dressed up. We put on dresses, did our hair and makeup, and we claimed a front row seat on the couch.<br />
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We started with a neighboring church's worship at 9:15. I didn't hold back my worship and was told I was being too loud. She even let me know they were singing better than me. Gee, thanks. Some of their worship team were friends of mine and I enjoyed being able to worship with them.<br />
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We switched to our service at 10 a.m. When it was time for the message, I pulled out my bible and journal. I wanted to follow along. The kids had lost interest at this point and we dismissed them to their rooms. When our service concluded, I wanted more. I switched to yet another message, our soon-to-be pastor. Ironically both messages had come from the same book. I knew the Lord was speaking to me and yet I was still not sure what He needed me to hear.<br />
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I know it's not the same. I felt it. Something was missing. A lot of things were missing. I miss our congregation. I miss our fellowship. I miss shaking hands, saying hi to people, and catching up on life. I miss hearing a room filled with voices lifted in praise. I miss a full orchestra playing a symphony of worship. I know it's not the same.<br />
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As you prepare to worship this Sunday, spend time preparing yourself, your heart, your time, and your space. We watch on our big screen TV. We dress for church. We take it seriously. We take notes. We open our bibles. We listen. We try to keep distractions at a minimum (silence your cell phone and your children...just kidding). Sing. For real! Sing out loud. Lift your hands. WORSHIP! Know that wherever you are watching, others are watching with you. Pray for those behind the scenes putting together the live stream. Pray for those in other homes worshiping. I encourage you to make a list of people you miss seeing each week and then REACH OUT. Send them texts, call, mail a card. Do something to let them know they're on your heart and in your mind. Visitation looks different and it has to be intentional.<br />
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Sunday, April 5, is Palm Sunday. It's the Sunday we celebrate Jesus coming into town being celebrated as the crowds cried out "Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord." (John 12:13) We know what happened next. We also know this isn't just a story. We know He came to be our King of kings and Lord of lords. He came to be our Savior. We can celebrate Palm Sunday because He is still on the throne as King of all. We can put our trust in Him because He holds the world in His hands and He's holding us together, no matter what. We can lift our hands in praise and celebrate Him knowing He has provided a way of deliverance for each and every one of us.<br />
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Sundays look different at home and at church but there's no reason NOT to celebrate who He is and the risen Savior. This is a week we enter into as Christians knowing the ultimate price that was paid and the power that conquered death. This is the week above all weeks when we hold fast to the faith we have because we know we serve a risen Savior. If He can conquer death and be the atonement for each and every one of us, He can certainly provide for us in this pandemic.<br />
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1. Be ready for worship.<br />
2. Turn off distractions.<br />
3. Open your bible and take notes.<br />
4. SING!<br />
5. Pray.<br />
6. Reach out to people.Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-28340331475475459282020-04-04T08:17:00.000-07:002020-04-04T08:17:06.831-07:00Grief Part 2<div style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
June 10. </div>
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To say it was a shock is an understatement. If you don’t live in the Commonwealth of Virginia then allow me to enlighten you. Our governor declared his executive order for all Virginians to stay home until June 10th.</div>
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We though we were grieving before. Before the news hit, the day seemed to already be off to a rough start. Kids were screaming, I was yelling. I tried to keep them in their separate corners. I tried to keep them focused on work. I tried to keep my cool<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">. None of it seemed to work. I put myself in timeout. My closet is my favorite place to sit and hide and take a few deep breaths and say a quick prayer. </span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">By the time the news broke, I think most of us were feeling the pain of Monday in our third week of “whatever...we don’t have a normal.”</span></div>
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I started this week with a post on grief yesterday. I suppose by admitting that’s what it was, I opened the floodgate for all the feelings to come rushing in. Boy did they overtake me.</div>
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I love that Brene Brown recently talked about comparative suffering. We don’t allow ourselves to feel our feelings because certainly someone somewhere has it much worse than we do. We don’t give ourselves permission to feel upset, hurt, lonely, scared, anxious, or angry because we know others are dealing with so much...so much more...right?!</div>
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Shame draws us inward. It pokes it’s ugly ego-centric head into our thoughts and emotions and causes us to deny what we truly feel. Empathy allows us to understand, relate, and connect with what others are going through and feeling...because we feel something similar, too. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to not be okay. Praise the Lord for all you honest enough to be honest with me after I posted about our tough day yesterday. What I’ve learned from being open and honest is that I’m not alone. Someone can usually relate. Someone can usually sympathize. Even if you aren’t able to relate to my present situation, you can usually empathize with how I feel. That’s good!</div>
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We have to give ourselves permission to not be okay and then we have to give ourselves the grace to know that we aren’t expected to have it all figured out. We aren’t expected to just get over it. We have to give ourselves grace enough to not be okay and leave room for God to fill in the gaps.</div>
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I was grieving Easter but June 10th feels like someone just came and put a pin in my balloon of hope, popping it into shreds of impossibility. I don’t have to be okay with it. I just have to lean into the grace and strength of my Savior when these days are tough. The reality is, literally no one is alone. No matter how quarantined you may be, we are all going through this together. We are all grieving and dealing with some level of hurt or pain or loss. There are times I’m thankful all the excess has been removed. There are other times I can’t imagine going back to the former. Still, I grieve and that allows me to mourn what was and make room for what is to be.</div>
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Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-54231921259101723972020-04-04T08:14:00.000-07:002020-04-04T08:14:05.943-07:00Grief Part 1 <div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I think I’ve gained 5 pounds. No, seriously. I’m not complaining about my weight but I am making the observation of how much I must be eating. I’m cooking a lot, which is good, but I’m snacking and munching and eating when I’m not hungry. I’m also enjoying A LOT of chocolate gelato. Anyone else eating more these days?</div>
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I caught Eli going to the pantry for the 14th time the other day and tried to stop him when he replied, “I’m eating for my emotional health.” Me too, buddy, me too.</div>
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This week is week three for our stay-at-home family and we’re all still adjusting. I admit I’m probably more “controlling” than most and have been operating on a fairly “normal” schedule when it comes to bedtime, meals, homeschooling, and daily activities. Of course there’s been a lot more down time, but that’s also allowed for new opportunities for us to be together. Still, we’re adjusting.</div>
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As I share this week, I’m going to focus on something most of us may not be thinking about, much less wanting to talk about. The elephant in the room must be addressed and I’ve never shied away from conflict.</div>
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Grief.</div>
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We are all in a different phase of it but we’re all dealing with some level of grief. Maybe you don’t feel like you’re grieving. Maybe you’re not sure what to grieve. I assure you that circling this entire pandemic is a world of grief. Grief for the way things used to be. Grief over jobs lost or hours cut back. Grief over not being able to see friends and family. Grief as we gather in our living rooms and tune in yet another Sunday for a livestream service. Grief realizing we won’t be together on Easter to celebrate a Risen Savior in our sanctuaries (that one hit me really hard). Grief over not being able to make a Target run (my poor daughter asks all the time). Grief because of a non-essential _____ anything. Grief. It’s penetrating the daily things we used to do but can’t. Grief realizing our world will never be the same.</div>
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We’re grieving, and whether we’re in denial, upset and depressed, or just flat out mad, I dare say we’ve reached a state of complete acceptance of our new normal.</div>
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It’s important to realize grief isn’t something to be solved. It’s not a destination we finally arrive at. It’s a process and a feeling. It’s a journey. We must recognize what we’ve lost. We also must be aware of our feelings. That feeling of restlessness, the inability to sleep, the desire to only sleep, the constant munchies, sometimes deep within the subconscious our feelings are buried but our bodies are telling us something. Pay attention to it and name it. Make steps toward a new normal and routine. I’m going to spend more time on this Wednesday but decide to do one thing each day that you know you can accomplish. Choose one thing that helps things feel normal and then embrace the new things.</div>
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Look for joy. I was walking the other day when a huge breeze carried a flurry of cherry blossom petals through the air sprinkling all around me like a snowstorm. It was glorious! I stopped and put my arms out and spun around. I couldn’t help the sheer joy I felt. See the joy. Feel it. Be willing to embrace it in the small things. Choose it.</div>
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We’ll tackle more tomorrow but by acknowledging where we may be in this state of grief, I’m praying together we can come up with some next steps to walk through this together.</div>
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What does grief look and feel like for you?</div>
Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-90704764107734274392019-08-19T18:17:00.002-07:002019-08-19T18:17:49.202-07:00A Call To Pray Part 1<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 6px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
We all pray for our children. It's foolish to think we don't utter prayers for them on a consistent and regular basis. We pray for their safety and well-being. We pray for them to make wise choices. We pray they'll remember what we've taught them. We pray for them to have a friend, positive influences, and people around them. We pray for them to come to know Christ as Savior and to grow in their faith. Of course we pray for our kids.</div>
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This week is going to look a little diff<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">erent but I am entering into a week-long series of messages to encourage specific and earnest prayers especially over our children in this season of school. I will also include ways we can pray for each other as parents. Please know this is something I'm searching for in my own life. I've got some BIG prayer requests on behalf of my kids, especially my boy. I know you do, too, which is why the Lord has impressed this upon my heart.</span></div>
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Today we start with covering our kids in prayer as they begin a new day, a new week, and continue in a new school year.</div>
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Lord, I pray You will remind my children daily that Your love for them is everlasting (Psalm 103:17).</div>
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Cultivate a grateful heart within them (Psalm 118:28).</div>
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Help them speak the truth to others and to themselves (Ephesians 4:25).</div>
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Fill them with joy and peace (Romans 15:13).</div>
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Make them a blessing to everyone they meet (1 Peter 3:9).</div>
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Help them to listen to Your Word and do what it says (Luke 11:28).</div>
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May they never walk away from You; draw their hearts closer so You will always be near them (James 4:8).</div>
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Won’t you join me in covering our kids in prayer?</div>
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<img alt="No photo description available." src="https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/68614502_2138733256232312_3508554755423076352_n.jpg?_nc_cat=106&_nc_eui2=AeHhMpqnjbFRhtmVNVX1GOB6QXiq6yGAnhQv7GQ4Kz588OVGUQZs4icOfG_5N0ngXPXyPgyIe42g5YzerbBTQKE-w2eL3GnnTBICtx1GUpD11g&_nc_oc=AQmQoTPt51cwWkndVRg0_fRq3ajyd3IZ9w_icVYBUFqSnaMLUiIO8B-9066Lc3qgloQ&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&oh=36ea73bfe9891b1352583eda0424f471&oe=5DE2F160" /><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-28501187827821425042019-08-11T16:08:00.000-07:002019-08-11T16:09:27.463-07:00He's My Son<div data-block="true" data-editor="abgc6" data-offset-key="ddu36-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span data-offset-key="ddu36-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a different Sunday. I wasn't leading worship so we got to go to church together as a family. I admit my frustration had been elevated trying to get everyone ready and out the door. It was much different when I was only responsible for myself. Walking into church continued to be an agreement. Why was everything so difficult? It had been the theme of the last several days and I had been ready to wave my white flag of surrender and let the Lord know I wasn't cut out for this. I felt the growing frustrating leading to a spirit of wanting to throw in the towel. Can you quit being a parent? Is it possible to take a leave of absence? It seemed necessary for the health and well-being of us all.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="506og-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">I sat in class with a reminder not only of the position I hold as a member of the family of God, chosen and adoption, but also the rights and privileges of Jesus God's Son are mine as His chosen. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bnjn8-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">A friend of mine and fellow soldier in the throws of mothering a child not her blood shared her own woes with me. We consoled each other, knowing we're committed to praying for each other. It helps knowing you're not alone.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4t6e0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">We made our way to service where the kids who attended camp were on the platform. My son was sitting in our section waiting for us. All the kids had come in for the camp presentation. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8upo0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">The music started to play and we all stood to sing. At some point my son had grabbed my hand. Even as I sang the words, his hand squeezed mine. The fullness of the moment wasn't lost on me. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="cr0gr-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>He walks on the water. He speaks to the seas. He stands in the fire beside me. </i></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4a94a-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">I couldn't even sing. Tears fell from my eyes. He hasn't left me alone. It's not a journey I'm traveling by myself. I may not be able to figure it out or provide the answers but it's so nice to know I'm not alone. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="f79rk-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>He carries my healing in His hand.</i> </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bgfhd-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">I squeezed the hand of my son. The parallels were present. Even as I stood there knowing my own hand was held tightly in the grip of my Sovereign God, I was also reminded of the grip I had on my own child. <span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">He chose me. He chose him. He chose me for him. </span>I stared at the words on the screen. I made them my prayer.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="10rcn-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">Lord, I'm not asking for who he is to change but I am asking for understanding and grace. Help him find who you've created him to be and help me be a vessel in his development. Help me show him Your grace as I love him and point him to You. Cover all my faults with Your grace where I fall drastically short of loving him well. Messiah, my Redeemer. There is power in Your name. I cherish who he is, who you've created him to be, and I ask for the divine intervention to love and raise him well.
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<span data-offset-key="10rcn-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; float: none; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">"For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love 5 he[a] predestined us for adoption to sonship[b] through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will." Ephesians 1:4-5</span><b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<img alt="Image may contain: 1 person, smiling, eyeglasses and closeup" src="https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/67937178_2121619334610371_7871541787792244736_n.jpg?_nc_cat=107&_nc_oc=AQnhvSTTi63PJcpqmJv2KBSCuZdmQ4qLM6ZMasZEts0HpPLUgEOmQgLraHyI5nsbiV0&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&oh=41c89e1fc684f095a47c2f24e45c88a3&oe=5DC906F1" /><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-5785990019105893822019-06-20T06:39:00.001-07:002019-06-20T06:39:24.893-07:00My Road to Miss Virginia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's here. The Miss Virginia 2019 pageant is happening this week. It seems like forever ago when I got the request asking if I was interested in cohosting Miss Virginia. In reality, it's only been a few months but it took almost that long for the reality to truly set in. </div>
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I admit I shared the news with only my immediate family because I was so sure it couldn't actually be happening. Surely they picked the wrong person, right?! Then the emails started coming, song selection was taking place, discussions on wardrobe and schedules...and then came the full script. The moment I opened the envelope to reveal my name under the Miss Virginia 2019 title printed on my binder, I knew this was really happening. </div>
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Before we move forward, allow me to take a step back in time. Some of you have no idea this was ever a part of my life. Let's take a trip down memory lane several decades ago...</div>
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I was a junior in high school when I received a notification I had been nominated for a scholarship contest called Miss Teen of America. Having no pageant experience whatsoever, I wasn't even sure what it was but with some encouragement, I submitted the application and necessary supporting essays and documents. Much to my surprise, I was selected as a representative to compete as Miss Teen of Lynchburg in the Miss Teen of America scholarship contest in San Diego, California. Mom and I traveled to California for a week full of activity and competition. I won talent and placed in the top 18 out of 133 girls. I won scholarships and awards and had an absolute BLAST! I hadn't been a pageant girl or grown up in this world AT ALL but I was learning quickly.</div>
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Shortly after in my senior year of high school, I found my way to Junior Miss where I earned my first of many "First Runner Up" titles (more on that later). It was in the spring of my senior year of high school when some pageant directors heard me sing at church and approached me afterwards to be in their pageant, Miss Bedford, in two weeks. This was a preliminary to Miss Virginia in the Miss America organization and very different than the two previous experiences I'd had. Enter swimsuit competition and intense interviewing. This was going to take some training. </div>
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Remarkably, I placed first runner up at the age of 18 and it felt like I was onto something. With the help of some friends and pageant coaches, I started to prepare for what was next. A series of preliminary pageants over the next few months during my freshman year of college landed me at First Runner Up every single time. Four, to be exact. As my dad affectionately reminded me, I was "first loser" but each and every time I won scholarship money and began to enhance my skills. Along the way, I found the most amazing coach and trainer who helped me learn stage presence and interviewing skills that have served me even now in my career. The experience I was gaining was invaluable.</div>
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Then it happened. The last preliminary of the season, Miss Chesterfield, and I won. WHAT?! I wasn't even sure what was next but with only six weeks until Miss Virginia, things flew into action. Dresses, wardrobe, song choice, applications, platform initiatives, and opportunities to now speak and be invited to appearances as a title holder were a new reality. My platform was a self esteem program for young people called "Who I Am Makes a Difference." One of the things I love about the Miss America organization is the way it empowers women to find their confidence and inner strength and beauty. It also supports and encourages community involvement and a platform where each young woman advocates for a cause of her choosing or creating. What an opportunity to develop skills and passion!</div>
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My experience at Miss Virginia was truly one of the highlights of my life! Seriously! It was a week full of activities, rehearsals, appearances, and getting to know a sisterhood of people who still hold a special place in my heart. I didn't place, didn't win, didn't walk away with a single "award" but I can most assuredly say that the week I was there was such a defining and shaping part of my life, skills, and abilities that I now credit much of these experiences to who I have become and what I've been able to do. Everything from interview skills to public speaking, being able to be poised under pressure and learning how to carry myself professionally are things I gained from this experience. I can also say that I was (indirectly) first runner up to Miss America because after being first runner up to Miss Lynchburg who won Miss Virginia and went on to win Miss America! ;) See, first loser isn't so bad!</div>
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I went back one more time the following year to compete in Miss Lynchburg again. It was a devastating First Runner Up situation where I was also faced with a decision of continuing on in the pageant world or pursuing other options. I was able to fund the rest of my college career with full time traveling singing teams instead and that was the end of my pageant "career."<br /><br />And here we are at this amazing week of Miss Virginia rehearsals and a collision of worlds reminiscent of memories and people from decades ago. A dear friend, someone who had supported and encouraged me in my early competitions, reached out with the invitation. She had a vision to bring a few people along her own hosting journey and I couldn't be more grateful. It's been an opportunity to remember with gratitude how much these experiences have meant to me but also how they shaped me. When I became the Career Center Director and took on the job of coaching and training for interviews, I would credit Miss Virginia and my experiences for helping me. When I took on the challenge of co-owner and publisher of Central Virginia Bridal Guide & Events, many of the community involvement and partnerships had already been established from some of my community connections as a title-holder. As a speaker and presenter, I owe much of my poise under pressure to those early on-stage interviews and all the preparation that went into them. </div>
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By no means is this the only thing I can attribute to shaping me and all the Lord has blessed me to be able to do, but in many ways it served as the launching pad and foundational cornerstone for my professional career and development. I've had amazing mentors invest in me from the youth group to my college years and throughout my career, alongside my incredibly godly and supportive parents. I also know the Lord's provisional and Sovereign hand has been a part of all of this - the successes and failures and everything in between.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">What I've also been reminded of is the way these young women are empowered to find, embrace, and develop their strengths, talents, and passions. It's giving them a platform to share their voice and be shaped into women who will no doubt look back at this week and these experiences as formative for them as they were for me. </span></div>
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That's the story of my road to Miss Virginia and the road that has led me back to this cohosting opportunity. I know the pageant world isn't for everyone. I'm not here to argue or advocate. I'm simply here to share my story and how this amazing opportunity helped shape me. </div>
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<br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-47076701574447987242019-04-29T04:36:00.001-07:002019-04-29T04:36:59.296-07:00Fire <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 1em 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
There have been year this day has passed by without me even realizing it. There have been other years when it's been all I could think about.</div>
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Today isn't a day<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><span> </span>I want to celebrate but it is a day I have to stop and give thanks. There's an altar of remembrance built on this day years ago in memory of the great redemption the Lord has done in my life.</span></div>
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I got the call in the middle of the night. I could see the horrifying flames from miles away. The entire sky was bright orange in the middle of the night. It's a scene I'll never forget. The house burning was like the icing on the cake of what was already life destroyed. The days and weeks that followed were arduous and difficult; a blur in the midst of what was already tumultuous and chaotic.</div>
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I don't want a single ounce of sympathy. I need you to understand what this is all about. This is about what you see now. Everything I have, all I am, what I've learned, who I've become, every pulverized piece, every single ash molded by the Sovereign hands of a redeeming God.</div>
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He spoke the heavens and earth into existence. He calmed the seas with just a word. Standing in the midst of ash and soot, destruction and despair, I had to believe He was going to use this, even this, to make me stronger. I had to trust He could put it all back together with just one word. What I wasn't fully aware of was how He would do this but years later I can testify to His promises come true.</div>
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The years the locusts had destroyed of my life, the plans and dreams I had that I couldn't fix or control, have more than been redeemed. Hear me on this! He doesn't leave you stranded or undone. There is nothing, absolutely no one, He will leave unredeemed.</div>
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If you have any hope, any confidence in believing He is who He says He is and He will do what He says He can do, then trust me when I say that my life is an example of His redeeming work.</div>
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There’s a song I would listen to over and over, praying for God to make it true for me:</div>
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“I'll build an altar with the rubble that You've found me in<br />And every stone will sing of what You can redeem</div>
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Heal the wound but leave the scar<br />A reminder of how merciful You are<br />I am broken, torn apart, take the pieces of this heart<br />And heal the wound but leave the scar</div>
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Don't let me forget<br />Everything You've done for me<br />Don't let me forget<br />The beauty in the suffering</div>
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Heal the wound but leave the scar...”</div>
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Today I remember. Today I honor the years since this day that seemingly took every worldly possession. Today I recognize His redemption of beauty from ashes. The wound has long since been healed but today represents a scar to serve as a reminder of all He’s done.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-33617290517172477262019-03-20T02:25:00.001-07:002019-03-20T07:30:31.608-07:00He’s Not Here Right NowThis is one of those things I rarely talk about, especially publicly. Yet I’m all the more aware of the reality of how close to home it’s hitting for so many of us; too many.<br />
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This is my son’s room. It’s been empty for days. It will remain empty a few days longer. I hate this picture. I hate that he’s missing. I hate that it represents him not with me, not with us. I hate everything about this empty, lonely room. This is the picture of shared custody. One week with us...one week away from us.<br />
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I’ve heard it all so please refrain from judgment or opinions. This post isn’t asking for sympathy and I’m certainly not open to criticism - at least not on this subject. This is a very real, very raw picture of what it looks like to have half of your heart half of the time.<br />
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Every story is different; but I can guarantee no parent heart feels different than my own when they’re missing their child.<br />
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Before you think you’re excluded from this because a custody agreement may not impact you, I would ask you to stick around. Just today I talked to a mama humbled by her child’s sobs because of the impact over mean kids at school. Yesterday another mama shared her son’s “adult” decisions without any real understanding of how her heart was breaking. I’m sure you have your own story of grieving over your child, praying for their well-being, struggling to figure out how to reach them, or some situation that has brought you to your knees in pure anguish over the one you love so deeply you’d do anything for yet find yourself completely helpless.<br />
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We could talk about the consequences of divorce; the pain and heartache of people’s sin and how it affects the children. That’s certainly got a place here. We could debate the harsh realities of navigating schedules and homes and the ways we should have prevented this from happening. Regardless of who bears the “fault” in the fractured relationship, the children now bear the brunt of the consequences. That much I know.<br />
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I once heard it said being a child of divorce is like traveling between two different countries, each with their own language, rules, currencies, and exchanges. The only difference is that passport gets stamped every week. I imagine that’s a world traveler who just wants to be home once and for all...but the question then becomes, which home? Given the choice, how can a child bear the responsibility of hurting a parent in their choice? So they continue on, suffer through, bearing emotional baggage they were never meant to carry.<br />
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I don’t care how many years we’ve been doing this, there are times I simply can’t breathe because the grief is too much to bear. It’s grief of a different kind; heartache you can’t really explain or comprehend unless you’re a parent. You know what I mean. You ache and long for your children - you pray for them to grow up and love Jesus. You teach them to obey. You teach them to know right from wrong and then you pray for them to choose wisely. You can’t be there every time someone’s mean to them. You can’t be there watching over every choice, reminding them of everything you’ve taught. You can’t prevent every fall, you can’t always be there to pick them up.<br />
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This doesn’t always have a pretty ending. This doesn’t get wrapped up with a scripture that makes everything better. This is messy and organic. And as hard as this is, here’s what I also know. My God is faithful to redeem the years the locusts have destroyed. His grace is sufficient not just for me but for my son who travels back and forth, and any other child doing the same. No weapon formed against me, or him, shall prosper because I know God gets the victory. Even when I cannot protect him, love on him, raise him, enjoy him, discipline him, and engage him on a daily basis, I am reminded over and over that God doesn’t need me. He allows me to be here and He asks me to play an active prayerful role even in the absent times. He reminds me He didn’t need me when He was knitting him together and He’s big enough, Sovereign enough to watch over his every move even when I cannot be there.<br />
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This may not affect you personally or directly but I can guarantee you have sent your child off to school, summer camp, an overnight sleepover, or somewhere when your heart was with them but you physically were not. This is where we learn to lean into our Savior and trust Father God to watch over them, protect them, hold them when they are out of our reach. This is where we stay on our knees longer, spend more time in prayer, and allow Him the room to work and move when we are moved out of the way. That’s all I know to do. Will you join me in praying for our kids wherever they may be today?<br />
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Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-54144633626404077612019-03-18T11:13:00.001-07:002019-03-18T11:13:58.230-07:00Chosen. <p>Today isn’t about me sharing what’s on my heart as much as it is hearing what’s on yours. </p><p>We’re going through Jo Saxton’s “The Dream of You” bible study at church and last night we heard a compelling lesson on being fully known and deeply loved by God. It’s a humbling thought to think when we wallow in our insecurities or lose our self-worth we may as well be punching God in the face saying His creation isn’t good enough. Did you catch that? He made you. He planned you. He chose you. <p>I have often shared my own fears and insecurities, my short-comings and character flaws. I know I struggle with over-analyzing EVERYTHING. I also tend to over-react and jump to action before I’ve fully thought through a plan. I battle so much insecurity desiring to be chosen and seeking connection that I often feel left out and alone. This is just a short list...<br></p><p>“Words create worlds.” The very thought of this causes me to pause and think about the words that have shaped my world. The words from others I’ve believed about myself. The labels, good and bad, I’ve attached to who I think I am. But this isn’t always the truth. This isn’t always what God says about me. <br></p><p><i>For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God! How vast is the sum of them! You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. Psalm 139:13-17</i><br></p><p>How about you? What words have shaped your world? When you stop to think about how you view yourself does it line up with what God says about you? <br></p><p>What does being fully known and deeply loved by God mean to you? <br></p><p>How can you trust what He says about you even when you don’t feel it?<br></p><p>I’d love to hear from you.<br></p></p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-4726835473646481432019-03-13T06:44:00.001-07:002019-03-13T06:44:33.822-07:00Salt, Light and a Little Bit of Creamer<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 6px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
I have a confession. You know I’m always gut-level honest and usually extremely vulnerable. Even as I type, I can’t believe I haven’t told you sooner...</div>
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Before I tell you what it is, we need to back up. I started my usual Pumpkin Spice craze in August when it was still 90 degrees outside. Peppermint Mocha made its entrance as soon as I had my Christmas tree up the beginning of November. Here we are in March, a budding new season, the hope of warmer<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><span> </span>weather and more daylight, and I reached the point where the flavors of the seasons gone by were no longer satisfying my morning cup of coffee. It almost seems like betrayal but I just have to be honest.</span></div>
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So I made the switch. To what, you ask? French Vanilla. I know. It may be the most basic of them all. The only thing that could be more original would be the original no-flavor creamer. The thing is...I don’t want the full flavor of the creamer. I want a hint of it against my espresso roast. I want to taste the coffee and want the creamer to be its subtle compliment. Still, switching creamers seems like a really big deal. My coffee very much feels like a part of my personality.</div>
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You wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t told you. A simple glance at my coffee reveals the addition of creamer but the flavor isn’t something you could know without tasting it. The dark caffeinated finely ground beans are flavorful, deep, and rich. This is my coffee.</div>
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Don’t forget the importance of salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16). The walk must match the talk. Faith without works is dead. What good is it if we say we have faith but have nothing to back it up? (Check out James 2)</div>
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It’s as simple as the flavor of our coffee creamer. It’s as significant as the seasoning on our food. Our testimonies of faith lack anything of eternal value if we don’t demonstrate what we say we believe. I might as well be drinking decaf for heaven’s sake!</div>
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Be the salt and light. Be the caffeinated flavored coffee (or however you drink it). Don’t miss the significance of the simple, small acts of kindness and generosity as an opportunity to share Christ. We are the living, breathing examples of His hands and feet at work. Sometimes all it takes is the simplest act of sprinkling His love on someone with just the hint of His goodness.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-4835249055996179902019-03-12T09:31:00.001-07:002019-03-12T09:31:16.248-07:00Extraordinarily Ordinary<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 6px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
“In a million unique ways - as we change diapers, eat dinner, return emails, pay the bills - we are to be the evidence of God. Jesus factored in the mundane... So do your everyday and your ordinary. Godliness is found and formed in those places.” - Jennie Allen, “Made For This”</div>
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I got the laundry washed, dried, folded, and put away all in the same day. Can we just pause and celebrate that win for a moment?!</div>
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I played a guest in an imaginary restaurant while my 3-year-old took<span> </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">my order and prepared my plastic food in her preschool-sized kitchen.</span></div>
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I made dinner. A full balanced home cooked meal. Yep, you guessed it. Another celebration is in order. ((Praise Hands))</div>
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I took a walk all the way down our new street while my son rode beside me on his scooter talking about our days.</div>
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I cleaned out an entire bin of clothes and went through what would and wouldn’t fit my children who refuse to stop growing. Little rascals!</div>
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Today was a good day. Today was an ordinary day. Today was a typical day in all its glory and atypical in its nothingness. In my list of accomplishments, I can’t recount anything monumental and yet even the mundane could be counted as significant. What am I trying to say?</div>
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In that moment of playing pretend with my preschooler, I watched her explore her creativity and strengths. In that walk with my boy, we talked about big things, hard things, and I reminded him how much I love him. In my pursuit of service to my family, I was serving my Savior. I may not have impacted the masses today and I may not have made a significant difference, but today was no less significant.</div>
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Some days are nothing extraordinary. Some days are mundane and consistent and regimented and routine-oriented. Some days are messy and full and some days are neat and empty. In the emptiness and mundane, we can find Him. In the fullness and the extraordinary, we can experience Him. In all of what we do or don’t do, we can become more like Him in the simple surrender and willingness to seek Him in everything.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-41889582512863426712019-03-04T06:06:00.001-08:002019-03-04T06:06:19.861-08:00Praise Him...Even when you don’t feel like it. <p>See that picture? I am a worship leader. It’s not just something I do; it’s a part of who I am. I have a deep desire to lead others to know and worship the Lord on an intimate level. There are times I sing those words as my own heart breaks with grief or sadness. There are times I have to remember those aren’t just words I’m singing or leading; they’re promises and reminders for me, too. </p><p>Do you know what I know? He really does give hope. Do you know how I know? Because I’ve experienced it. This isn't just wishful thinking. This is about a confidence and assurance of WHO HE IS even when we can't make sense of anything else. He restores. Did you hear that? Heaven knows I need to repeat it for my own heart to hear. He restores every broken heart. Lord, could you know my heart was breaking even as I sang the words? Of course He did. <p>“Praise is an action word. It must have expression in order to exalt God and make Him known. Praise is an appropriate response to who God is, what He has done, and what He will do.” How to Worship a King</p><p>Praise isn’t dependent on how I feel or my present circumstances. It’s simply about Him. We don’t praise Him when we feel like it or because of His blessings to us. We praise Him because of who He is and because He’s worthy. When I’m feeling a lack of enthusiasm for praise, He is still worthy and deserving of my worship. It’s not about the present state we found ourselves in. It is ultimately a reminder of God. It is the reason we praise; an expression of admiration and gratitude of and for HIM that is completely independent of our expectation or desire of what we want Him to do for us. This isn’t about us at all. <br></p><p>I was reminded of this all over again. The position to praise isn’t about how I’m feeling. It’s about who He is and the worship He deserves. Even when my heart aches. I’m giving Him praise today, reminded of the hope and restoration He brings, celebrating His promises and position to give Him my gratitude for His position, not mine.<br></p><p><br></p></p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-71921658972930501932019-03-01T19:04:00.001-08:002019-03-01T19:04:51.726-08:00Hello March Listen. We need to talk. This is going to be serious. <p>I realize what I’m about to say has the potential to be highly controversial and extremely divisive. The topic is emotionally charged and typically not one where opinions waiver. Sometimes the difficult things have to be discussed so here we go...<br></p><p>I don’t want it to snow. I’m ready for spring. I can’t tell you how much I want, no NEED, the warmth and sun. You guys, I’ve seen it. I’ve basked in its glorious sunshiny warmth and it’s amazing! Oh taste and see the goodness...it’s coming!!!</p><p>We have SNOW in our forecast in just a few days. Today is the first day of March and in many people’s minds the automatic switch to spring starts to take place. I used to be one of those hanging on to winter with every last hope of a late March snow. Prior to last week, I would have expected our March snow forecast with welcome arms and hopeful prayers...until I spent a week in the heat of 80+ degrees. You could walk outside at 7 a.m. or 9 p.m. and be in shorts and a t-shirt and still be warm. IT WAS AMAZING!!! You guys, we NEED this!</p><p>I know some of you will be disgusted with me. My snow-loving friends will wonder if you can even associate with me. Those in the spring-ready camp will wonder if they can trust me. Have I really changed my tune?!</p><p>Hear me out. I have a deep love and appreciation for each of the seasons. I love where we live and the benefit of experiencing each in its fullness. I love knowing if the season we’re in isn’t a favorite, it will soon pass. Just a few months each year then we move on. I love knowing it is only temporary which causes me to appreciate its brief presence with whatever it may bring.</p><p>Standing here on March 1st I can tell you I would usually be hanging on to any last shred of hope for snow. I would want the last offer of its fullness the season could bring. It’s the same feeling when summer starts to give way to fall and as much as I enjoy those crisp cool mornings and flavors of pumpkin spice, I want to hang on to the ice cream cones outside when the sunset is as late as 9 p.m. This is a little different for me. I’ve seen the sun. I’ve been in its warmth...and I’m ready for it! This isn’t just hopeful anticipation. I’ve been there! I know what it feels like and the energizing joy it brings. I’m ready! <br></p><p>And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.</p><p>—Philippians 1:6</p><p>I know this season will pass. I know this good work will be brought to completion. I know what He’s started will be completed...in due time. I’ve seen the goodness of the Lord. I’ve basked in His warmth and glory. I know what it’s like to be in His energizing presence. With hopeful anticipation, I want to live fully in this present day He’s given me and yet count it all toward the glorious inheritance of what’s to come in eternity. <br></p><p>Let us fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen; for what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal. </p><p>—2 Corinthians 4:18</p><p>It’s coming!!! Hold on....</p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-44645105574508404892019-02-28T14:52:00.001-08:002019-02-28T14:52:30.152-08:00Mirror Check<p>See that picture? That’s what I found on my nightstand beside my bed at the end of a long day. I stopped and smiled. The cut out pieces of paper revealing the heartfelt role I play to my boy hit home. I let out a huge sigh. I love him so deeply and yet life can be so challenging with him. </p><p><br><p>The morning had been awful. <br></p><p>“Why are you choosing to disobey? Why is everything an argument?”</p><p>I was nearly yelling. No doubt I had tipped the scale of banshee mom now going berserk over the lack of obedience and respect that had been unfolding. </p><p>Mornings are stressful but they’re even more difficult when you have a child who can’t naturally organize themselves or process multiple steps at a time. Things that are second-nature to you and me are not so easy for him. Simple things like getting dressed, brushing teeth, combing hair, and getting school supplies ready aren’t easily done without constant redirection and reminding. Even then, the repeated instructions are often met with arguments, defiance, or disregard. It borders on the line of knowing when the mind is simply over-active and not able to focus versus blatant disregard for what’s been told. </p><p>Today was the day when it felt like blatant disregard after so many previous instructions had been ignored or argued. So I did what lots of moms have done - I lost it. </p><p>After God had used my son to teach me such a deep and personal lesson the other day, I was now evaluating my reaction and behavior, ashamed at my own lack of self control. </p><p>I’m convinced parenting is the role God gives us to bring us to the end of ourselves and truly teach us exactly who we are, what we lack, and how much we need Him. The irony is how deeply so many of us desire and long for this role, especially women, especially those of us who have gone through difficulty in our journeys to motherhood. Had the journey to becoming a mother been easy, I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror and remind myself that I did in fact pray for this. And on these particularly challenging mornings when I can’t seem to get hold of myself I am all the more reminded that He hand picked ME. Only in Your wisdom, Lord.</p><p>“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.” 2 Corinthians 3:18</p><p>My job, my role, that title he so diligently cut out for me gives me pause to reflect on who I am reflecting. Is it the image of Christ Himself? Though my son may not carry any of my DNA, you can make certain he is being influenced, shaped, taught, and molded by our lifestyles, parenting, household, and behavior. If he’s going to reflect me then I have to make sure I’m reflecting Jesus. </p><p>I can’t deny my own behavior has often mirrored his in defiance, disregard, and disobedience to the repeated and insistent instructions from the Lord. No doubt I’ve been just as distracted and self-reliant. If I’m being honest, my son was yet again giving me the opportunity to see the mirroring effect of how God must see me when I’m acting so childish. It’s a harsh reality.</p><p>I’m praying for a better morning today but more importantly I’m praying for a better attitude and a lot more of God’s grace to handle my reactions and responses.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p></p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-84209555745863251592019-02-26T09:11:00.000-08:002019-02-26T09:11:15.123-08:00Homesick
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ruined dinner. I wasn't feeling well. I had an unusually
defiant mess-maker destroying the house I was so desperately trying to get back
in order. It just felt like everything I did was going wrong today. I could
feel myself getting close to the brink so I did what any mother would do to
keep her sanity...I hid in the closet. Don't laugh. It's true. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There I was. Face down on the carpet, hands covering my head
as if they would actually hide me. But they didn't. Just a few minutes later
the door opened. "Mom? Are you in...MOM! What are you doing? Are you
okay?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My boy had found me. I didn't move. He got down on the floor
with me. "What's wrong, mom?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I'm just sad, buddy. I'm mad at myself for ruining
dinner. I feel like nothing I do is good enough. I'm just so frustrated -
mostly with myself. It feels like nobody cares. I miss knowing our
neighbors."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Okay, mom. Let's start over." He flipped on the
lamp and poised himself in the chair with my notebook and pen in hand. He
started writing. His cute glasses made him look so grown up. The counselor in
me decided to play along. I sat up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"So, mom. You said never good enough. What else?"
He was writing intently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Nobody cares how much I do, the work is never
done."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He kept writing. "Are you sad we left the old
house?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"No, I love this house. This is such a wonderful home
for our family. But I miss our friends and neighbors and going outside and
waving at people we know." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When he had finished he ripped the paper from the pad and
handed it to me. The words on the page hit me like the load of bricks they
carry with them. His diagnosis = Homesick. I asked him what he meant by that
and he replied,"You're not happy."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This "fun" little "experiment" of him
playing counselor hit me at my core. If I say these things, worse, if I believe
these things about myself, how can I expect my kids or anyone else to see me
any differently? There I was beating myself up for what felt like repeated
failures and sulking in my own pity party only to be smacked in the face by the
harsh reality that this wasn't about me. AT ALL. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wasn't "homesick" but I certainly wasn't happy
and he had hit that nail on the head. The fact that I was faced with my own
words written in my son's handwriting was not lost on me. This was heavy. I
decided I needed to salvage our night and took him out for some mother-son
time. Then I decided I needed to salvage my self-worth and bury my self-pity by
spending some time in the word. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of
your wings. Psalm 17:8</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let the king be enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he
is your lord. Psalm 45:11</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right,
whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is
excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:8</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had to fix my mind on the truth of God's word - who He
says I am - and not on the deception and doubts the enemy was using to attack
me. I am not sharing this because I seeking approval or accolades. Please know
my heart. My only intention is to express as vulnerably as I know how that we
all struggle - we all battle insecurity and fears. We all have to get out of
our own self-defeating ways to allow the Lord to do His work in and through us.
This isn't just my battle. I know it's yours, too. Whatever failures or
mistakes you're beating yourself up with, let them go. Whatever pity or
entitlement you're saying you deserve, let it go. Whatever damaging words
you're telling yourself, LET IT GO! Replace those fears and insecurities with
promises and truths. Know who you are in Him and know your worth because of His
sacrifice FOR YOU. You're worth it. He loves you. Don't ever let the doubt of
anything different creep in.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pRfZJBlEWU0/XHVzBWU8yNI/AAAAAAAABfc/X1KxCIDlkAEGCnLFFABdSA1w-5H822XfACLcBGAs/s1600/Elis%2Bnote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pRfZJBlEWU0/XHVzBWU8yNI/AAAAAAAABfc/X1KxCIDlkAEGCnLFFABdSA1w-5H822XfACLcBGAs/s320/Elis%2Bnote.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-35677938950029935412019-02-12T06:34:00.002-08:002019-02-12T06:34:27.379-08:00Worry<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 6px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
What happens when the worries of life literally choke the life from us?</div>
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In Mark 4, Jesus tells the parable of the seed. Some seeds have no roots, some grow among the thorns, some produce fruit. Some hear the word but the "worries of this life...come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful." (Mark 4:19)</div>
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At its root, the word worry means strangle, harass, or seize. It even has the connotation of anxiety or mental strangulation. Did you catch that? The torment that comes with the definition seems to cover the myriad of mental and emotional anguish worry brings.</div>
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You know I don’t write about things I don’t understand and you can rest assured when it comes to worry I am an expert. I know what this feels like. Gasping for air while being strangled alive by worry. Seized with fear, paralyzed by anxiety. Buried alive beneath the weight of the worries and woes that can crush us.</div>
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At its core for me, worry comes from my inability to control the circumstances around me. When I have no control over what’s happening or can’t control the outcome, I worry, I fret, I get anxious, and I always try to get involved. Anyone want to join my support group???</div>
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What I’ve learned is my worrying changes NOTHING. I have zero influence over the outcome, rather the worry ends up overtaking me. Usually my involvement ends up making a bigger mess and often finds me regretting my actions and lack of patience. If only I had just waited and trusted... So I have to come back to the promises I know to be true:</div>
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Cast your cares (anxiety) upon the Lord for He cares for you.</div>
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Be anxious for nothing but by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Philippians 4:6-7 (How many times have I stopped to turn my worries into THANKS?)</div>
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Do not worry about your life...seek first the Kingdom of God and all these things will be added unto you. Matthew 6 (Literally commanded not to worry and to seek God in all things.)</div>
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When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy. Psalm 94:19 (Can I find joy in Him even when I’m being strangled by my worry?)</div>
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Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 (His yoke is easy and light and He wants to replace my worry with rest if I will just give it to Him.)</div>
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Peace I give you...Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 (Often worry stems from fear - fear of the unknown, fear of what I can’t control.)</div>
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I could keep going but my guess is most of these are already familiar. So why does worry continue to creep in then seize us with paralyzing fear? It’s not by happenstance there are so many verses in the Bible to serve as reminders of how we should handle worry and fear. I’m guessing I’m not alone in this support group. It’s not an easy surrender. I keep a death grip on the things I have no control over in an effort to try to maintain control. I know I don’t want to be choked to death by the strangling worries that seek to destroy me. I want to live in His peace and rest in His freedom. When will I ever learn?!</div>
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I’ve shared this before but it’s once again applicable. The problem with a living sacrifice is we keep getting up and crawling off the altar. Guilty as charged. I surrender...then I try to take back control. It’s a vicious cycle of doubt, worry, and the inability to fully trust and rest in the Lord.</div>
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If this is something you also struggle with, then my guess is it will most likely be an ongoing battle for you, too. I know there’s victory and peace in the Lord. I also know my human response to things I can’t control. I don’t always do this well but I’m learning. I know the alternative of letting worry strangle the life from me and that’s not the place I want to find myself. I want to walk in freedom and surrender, even when circumstances are hard or uncertain. I want to find peace and rest in God alone. I want to surrender my choking worry for the peace that passes all understanding so His joy can be mine in whatever I face. You too?</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-8732813847060930272019-01-25T03:59:00.001-08:002019-01-25T03:59:24.524-08:00We bought a house!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Po4m27fAHgE/XEW351vAgjI/AAAAAAAABe4/jfeEVGM3PBoJBT2NAVES9b1nYOt4wIGMQCLcBGAs/s1600/Wright%2BHouse%2B2019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Po4m27fAHgE/XEW351vAgjI/AAAAAAAABe4/jfeEVGM3PBoJBT2NAVES9b1nYOt4wIGMQCLcBGAs/s320/Wright%2BHouse%2B2019.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
We bought a house! Hang on to your seats because I'm about to share the whirlwind story of our new home.<br />
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Were we house hunting? Yes and no. We've often gone back and forth in a casual house hunt. We've found a few houses here and there that we thought might be nice...but we never felt certain. We'd take a break, I'd look on zillow every now and then and then get frustrated and give up. Then Michael would take a turn looking and back and forth we went for at least a year.<br />
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Then one day in December a new listing popped up. It was around the exact same time when someone approached us with interest in our house. It wasn't even on the market.<br />
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We took a look at the house and we just knew. We knew it was the one for our family. The kids were thrilled and it felt like "home." We wanted to place an offer but what about our house? It seemed like that was working out too...Until it didn't.<br />
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In the midst of submitting an offer on this new home, we found out we would need to list our house - with just 24 hours to do so! That was the day a foot of snow was falling in Lynchburg and just before Christmas. We never do things easy! HA!<br />
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We had several showings on our house the first week but nothing solid. As things moved forward with our contract on the new house, we had tough decisions to make. Would it be contingent on the sale of our house? Would we trust the Lord to take care of the details?<br />
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We kept praying, "Lord, we sense your peace but if this is not your will, please close the doors." He wasn't audible in His answer but we both kept sensing Him moving us forward. One step at a time. "Go before us, Lord." It was obvious at every turn, that was exactly what He was doing.<br />
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We made it through the holidays hosting family and loading up everyone, including our giant doodle, for multiple house showings. As the new year approached, I asked God very specifically, "Lord, please let us have an offer by the end of this first week of January."<br />
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Here's what you need to know. I don't like to lay a fleece before God giving Him the parameters of how He should work. But I admit in my anxiousness and in the reality of what needed to happen for us to make certain we could buy this other home, we needed this to be "a done deal."<br />
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If you read my journals, you'd see me doing my best to cast my anxieties on Him and working hard to find the balance of trusting Him to move and taking a step of faith. On every single turn, we kept feeling His leading to push us just a little bit forward. We never felt the door close. We just knew the Lord was going to have to work this out.<br />
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And then it happened. On January 6, we got the news. An offer was being submitted. A contract had come in on our house after minor negotiations and it was truly the hand of God working out EVERY DETAIL! We found out it was a family who had looked at the house before Christmas. They had liked it so much, they listed their house for sale and it was sold in just a few days. The offer wouldn't be contingent on anything and we were all free to continue moving forward. How could this be?! Only God...<br />
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On January 17, we closed on our new home. On January 26, we'll officially move in. After a fresh coat of paint and new carpet, we've been moving things all week and it's starting to feel like "home." Once the rest of the furniture arrives, we'll no doubt start to settle in.<br /><br />It's hard to believe this is our last day, our last night, in our home at Benchmark. I look around and see signs of "us" everywhere - the fixtures we painstakingly chose, the tile we debated on for the bathroom floors, the backsplash in the kitchen - I can remember standing in Home Depot and seeing it on display and knowing it was the one we wanted. Our name is engraved in the concrete pad underneath the back porch. "Wright 2013" It was the year we were married and the year this house was built. Of course I'm sentimental and there are mixed feelings as we prepare for our last day here. The purple door is where my growing bump was documented each week of my pregnancy with Violet. This is the only home she's ever known. The walls tell stories and hold memories, but even more significant are the reminders of what's underneath. The 2x4's have scriptures written all over them from when Michael, Eli, and I came in during construction and wrote verses in each of the rooms and prayed over the house being built. No doubt the history of this home in our lives will be a significant memory for our family.<br />
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And just like that, we're moving on, preparing to make new memories, to establish a new home for our family and the changes that life brings. We're excited! I admit I woke up at 5 a.m. with nervous excitement anticipating our big move. No doubt there will be feelings of sadness, the hardest part leaving some of the best neighbors and friends we could have ever asked for. Some of these ladies have been part of a bible study in our home for the past 4 years becoming a part of my community and people I could call on for anything. They will continue to be friends, they just won't be right around the corner.<br />
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This is the story of us buying a house. We're saying goodbye to Benchmark, thankful for all the life we've lived here and the memories this house holds for our family. We're saying hello to our new home excited to see the next part of the journey God has for us.Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-72063032141375464912018-09-26T16:41:00.002-07:002018-09-26T16:41:33.205-07:00Be Still<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_9w" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 6px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
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I admit I am seething mad.</div>
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People have been hurt. Lies have been told. A tangled web of deception has been uncovered. Relationships have been destroyed.</div>
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On every single turn we’ve prayed and asked for God to intervene. He hasn’t failed yet. But what hurts the most is knowing people hurt people.</div>
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Make no mistake. I want revenge. I want justice to be served. But God has asked me to be still.</div>
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“The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.” Exodus 14:14</div>
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I can’t tell you how many times I’ve claimed that verse. But I can’t tell you I do it well. I want revenge to be mine. But the Lord says it’s His. I want to get even and I have no trouble telling someone exactly what I think of their poor excuse for character. But I’ve been put in my place with a Holy hush. For now.</div>
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How hard is it?! To be still when you want to take matters into your own hands. To trust He will make your justice shine like the noonday sun when the darkness seems to be closing in. To believe He will restore what the locusts have destroyed. To rest in knowing that nothing you do or say will take the place of His sovereignty to use what man intended for evil for His own good.</div>
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So hard.</div>
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But rest and trust and stillness are where we find Him. These are the spaces He brings healing to the hurt, where He restores what’s been destroyed, when He works to reveal something even greater, a plan far beyond the deception and lies and pain.</div>
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This is where I have to rest. Knowing that even when people hurt people, God is our refuge and source of strength. Even the Psalmist understood this. It’s an age-old problem. People hurt people. But God will always be faithful.</div>
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1 Save me, O God, by your name;<br />vindicate me by your might.<br />2 Hear my prayer, O God;<br />listen to the words of my mouth.<br />3 Arrogant foes are attacking me;<br />ruthless people are trying to kill me—<br />people without regard for God.<br />4 Surely God is my help;<br />the Lord is the one who sustains me.<br />5 Let evil recoil on those who slander me;<br />in your faithfulness destroy them.<br />Psalm 54</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-16727783749258453802018-09-20T04:26:00.001-07:002018-09-20T04:26:48.306-07:00Never Stop Listening"Some time later God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!”<p><br></p><p>“Here I am,” he replied.<br></p><p>Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you.”</p><p>Early the next morning Abraham got up and loaded his donkey. He took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac. When he had cut enough wood for the burnt offering, he set out for the place God had told him about."<br></p><p>The story in Genesis 22 is gripping. If you're a parent, I'm sure you can imagine with me how impossible obedience would seem to be. To sacrifice your only son - your long-awaited, prayed-for, and promised child becoming the solitary thing standing between you and your faith in God. <br></p><p>God calls to Abraham and he's listening and answers. When God gives Abraham the instruction to sacrifice his son, Abraham follows in obedience. <br></p><p>I'm the kind of person who needs more. I am imagining all the context between verses 2 and 3. What did Abraham feel? Did he tell Sarah what God had told him to do? Did he tell Isaac? Did the servants know? Why did he take them? Did he consider not going? My heart and my mind need more...<br></p><p>I suppose God left this to the imagination on purpose. He needed us to take Abraham's obedience at face value. That can't be missed. <br></p><p>By the time they get to the mount, Isaac is asking his father where is the lamb. Abraham replies in verse 8, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”<br></p><p>How about now? Was he freaking out just a little bit? Did he believe what he was saying? Was he grieved? Questioning God? Pleading with Him to provide another way?<br></p><p>"When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son."<br></p><p>Stop right there. There's a reason Abraham is the patriarch of our faith. There's a reason it was credited to him as righteousness (Romans 4). He heard God. He heard God give him the hardest instruction ever given. Make no mistake, he wasn't about to take matters into his own hands. (He'd already made that mistake with Hagar. Genesis 16) He heard and then obeyed. He never lost faith, telling Isaac God would provide. Even in that faith, he continued to follow through in faithfulness and obedience to what God had asked. <br></p><p>"But the angel of the Lord called out to him from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!” verse 11<br></p><p>Can you picture it? His beloved son Isaac bound on the altar. I can only imagine he's crying and pleading with his father. Abraham with knife in hand is poised in painful obedience. Then the angel of the Lord calls out to him. <br></p><p>“Here I am,” he replied.<br></p><p>“Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said. verse 12<br></p><p>Don't miss this. Abraham never stopped listening to the Lord. Even when what God asked him to do was painful, difficult, unimaginable, confusing and didn't make sense, he not only follow through in obedience, he did so with an open heart to God. <br></p><p>Most times I end up like the Abraham in chapter 16 by taking matters into my own hands. If I can even say I've obeyed God, I wonder the condition of my heart? Have my ears remained open to hear Him? Have I allowed my heart to be hardened to His word? I can't imagine how different this story would be if Abraham hadn't remained open to continually hearing the voice of God. What if he lost faith along the way?<br></p><p>God did just as Abraham told Isaac he would. He provided the sacrifice. The testing of Abraham gave way to one of the most beautiful examples of faith and obedience. <br></p><p>Give me ears to hear, a heart that trusts, a spirit that obeys.<br></p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-14032412063569472182018-09-08T05:16:00.001-07:002018-09-08T05:16:18.844-07:00Wake Up Call<p>Every morning a little after 6 a.m. I hear the sound of little feet across the hardwood floor. If that doesn't wake me, I usually hear her turning the door handle. She comes straight to my side of the bed with her pillow and blanket in hand and waits for me to pick her up and put her in bed. She'll lay with us but there's no falling back to sleep for either of us. (Usually her daddy can sleep through it. She clearly didn't get his sleeping habits.)</p><p><br><p>Last night I debated setting an alarm since I didn't need to be anywhere early. I dismissed it knowing my daughter would wake me up no later than 6-something. Without fail, 6:11 a.m. brought my live wake up call.</p><p>I didn't bound out of bed like usual. I was tired. I've worked long days along with later than usual bedtimes. </p><p>"Are you sick?" she asked as I laid there not quite awake.</p><p>"No, just tired." I told her.<br></p><p>"It's okay, mama, I can pray for you." She proceeded to put her hand on my head and pray, "Dear Jesus, help mama feel not tired. In Jesus' name, Amen."<br></p><p>Bless. Her. Heart. <3<br></p><p>My weariness gave way to gratitude as I realized the habits she's forming. Not just early morning wake up calls, but lifelong lessons of what I pray is her understanding and eventually coming to a saving relationship with Jesus. <br></p><p>She's not quite 3 but her simple "faith" already grasps the fact we can call on Him at any time for anything. Truly! It's that simple. </p><p>He doesn't require anything from us except our willingness. Our willingness to call on His name. Our willingness to ask Him. Our willingness to seek Him. Our willingness to allow Him to handle our requests.<br></p><p>As simple as it was, my daughter had the right idea of casting any and all cares on Him. No matter how big or small, He invites us to lay our burdens at His feet. We aren't asked to bear them. He even promises to give us His strength in our weakness, tiredness, and inabilities.</p><p>I'm thankful for this reminder today. Even if it did come early!</p></p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-26448929577529104702018-06-18T04:03:00.002-07:002018-06-18T04:08:25.489-07:00Blessed Be Your Name<p>It was a special church service yesterday. A day to honor the fathers in our lives. A choir full of men behind us as we lead worship. The resounding baritone voices carrying the melodies of <i>How Great Thou Art</i> and <i>Blessed Be Your Name</i>. </p><p>I can't sing that song without the distinct memory I have of singing that more than 10 years ago. It was the Sunday after we were told a certain baby wouldn't be ours. We had interviewed with a birth mom and it went exceptionally well. She even shared the name she had picked out for him asking me to use my dad's name as his middle name. I was delighted she had put so much thought into this and felt certain she was going to choose our family to adopt the son she was carrying at the time of the interview. More than a week passed of silence until finally the news came: she chose another family.</p><p>I was devastated. I can show you the place in my bible where I wrote that baby boy's name in the margin and specifically prayed for him to be mine. Now I was faced with the reality that he would not be and a few days later I would stand in church and lead the chorus, "<i>You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your name." </i></p><p>More than 10 years ago, I sang those words not knowing how He would give, only feeling the pain of what had been taken away. Yesterday I sang those words knowing the full story of the babies He asked me to pray over, even the ones I wouldn't call my own or hold, and the ones He ultimately gave me to be my children.</p><p><i>You give and take away</i></p><p><i>You give and take away</i></p><p><i>My heart will choose to say</i></p><p><i>Lord, blessed be Your name</i></p><p>Those aren't just lyrics - they're the testimony of how God put together my family. </p><p>How about you? Do you sing that line through brokenness not knowing how things will be worked out? Are you on the other side giving Him praise for what He's sovereignty orchestrated? Are you in the waiting not knowing what the answer will be? </p><p>It's one thing to bless and praise His name when He gives and blesses us. It's quite another to raise your hands in praise when something (or someone) has been taken away. It doesn't always come with answers or clarity. Our broken hearts often can't see past the depths of our pain to even grasp His greater purpose for the loss. Even when we can't understand, we can trust His omniscient sovereignty to work it all out for our good. In the waiting, in the grieving and heartache, we can rely on His strength to sustain us.</p><p>He's asked me to trust Him when I couldn't understand at all what He was doing. I can't tell you how many times I've had to collapse in His arms not having the strength on my own to even stand. In the seasons of plenty, in the seasons of wandering, in the abundance, in the drought - even when my heart can't feel it, then, even then I want to choose to bless His name. </p>Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-56468303910861031872018-06-13T19:29:00.001-07:002018-06-13T19:29:28.534-07:00Dirty DiapersI was dead asleep.<br />
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"Mommmyyyyyyyy!!!! Maaaaawwwwwww-mmmmmmmmeeeeeee!!!!!"<br />
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I tried to pry open my glued-shut eyes and blinked to look at the clock.<br />
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3:46 a.m.<br />
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I looked on the monitor and saw my daughter poised on the side of the bed.<br />
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"Mommy...I POOOOOPED."<br />
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She was wide awake. I was not but her update now sprung me out of bed.<br />
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I made my way into her room and she declared her news yet again.<br />
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"Mommy, I pooped."<br />
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"Okay, let's get your diaper changed," I said as I picked her up.<br />
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I laid her on the table and grabbed a diaper and some wipes and started to make the diaper change in the dark. She sleeps in just a diaper - her choice and something we've stopped fighting - so I figured it would be quick and simple. I could tell this mess hadn't "just happened" so I needed more wipes. She also sleeps in complete darkness. No nightlight or anything. I was struggling to fully see all I needed to clean so I closed the door partially and flipped on the hall light. I wasn't prepared for what I would see.<br />
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Brown streaks everywhere - her chest, under her arm, her hands, her foot. She was covered in pooh.<br />
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"Violet, what happened?"<br />
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"Um, I waked up and put my hands in my diaper and see if I pooped."<br />
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Um. Yeah. Ya did. You sure did.<br />
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It looked like she had finger painted herself with her diaper's contents. Bless.<br />
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It's one thing to be awakened from a rock-solid sleep. It's another to be awakened to a literal dirty diaper explosion.<br />
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I managed to get her completely cleaned up and surprisingly she was ready to go right back to bed. I, on the other hand, was wide awake.<br />
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I laid there thinking about the repercussions if I hadn't turned on the light. I've changed a million diapers so I can practically do it in my sleep. I've wrangled babies that resembled alligators and won the battle with a snug diaper in place. I've put diapers on in less-than-ideal situations (can we say bathrooms with NO changing table?!) and I've changed her many times without her lying down. I've even slapped a diaper in place on a moving kid, which I feel is more than worthy of an award. No matter how much of a "pro" I consider myself, in this case I needed the light to reveal the full extent of what I was dealing with. It wasn't just a dirty bum. I needed the light to expose the things I would have missed if I had just done what seemed second-nature.<br />
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You know where I'm going with this. The light wouldn't have ordinarily been necessary for something so typically mundane. However, this instance required full exposure of the light to reveal what would have been missed if I had just changed the diaper and put her back to bed.<br />
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Speaking of bed...I had to double check to make sure that didn't also need to be wiped down. Thankfully all clear.<br />
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What seems familiar to you? What can you do in your sleep? What don't you even need to open your eyes for? My challenge to you is to flip the light on. Open your eyes. Look around and get the FULL picture. You never know what you might be missing - what may not be suspected or predicted but what may be something you ought not overlook.<br />
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<br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2640708826983242338.post-44170279825383412342018-06-12T18:23:00.001-07:002018-06-12T18:27:08.361-07:00Depot Road You never know what we'll see on our adventures into Rustburg. It's one of the narrowest and windiest roads I've ever traveled. It's not big enough for a car to pass a semi full of cattle. Just ask me. I know because I've been nearly run off the road in the process. Twice.<br />
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You don't pass a lot of trucks but you do get stuck behind a lot of farm vehicles. Tractors pulling hay make for an especially amazing way to test your patience on the morning drive when you're already running late. I know this all-too-well.<br />
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Much like a roller coaster, it twists and turns and makes its way around bends and hills. I'm always careful though I know the road well. I traveled that way to school daily and it's the road that leads to our sitter's house. She kept Eli and now Violet so we've traveled that road for years. She's near and dear to our family which is why the drive is worth it.<br />
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Despite knowing what's coming, at least the way the road goes, I never take it too fast for the simple fact you don't know what may be ahead. At least twice I've had to come to a full stop for a loose cow in the road along with my fair share of squirrels, raccoons, possums, chickens, cats, and dogs. The amount of cardinals I see using this route as their flight plan is always a sight I love to behold.<br />
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I hit a straight away on the road this morning and could see something in the road ahead. Not knowing what it was, I started to slow down. I could tell it was moving but it seemed to be almost crawling. I couldn't make out the shaky movements. I was nearly stopped at this point, the unidentified object just a few feet ahead, and now I was mesmerized. There at the edge of the road was the tiniest little fawn. I scanned the road and brush and got a glimpse of the mama. She was just a few feet away and had already safely crossed but this little one was barely even standing. It was the size of a small cat with fresh little white spots all over its body and I guessed from the way it was struggling to stand it may have been hours old.<br />
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I made sure they were both safely across and well hidden in the brush before making my own progress but I was still in awe of the scene I had witnessed. Pure beauty. The admiration of nature in its simplest form and I was certain I had just seen a fawn taking some of its first steps.<br />
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This road is a lot like life. It can seem familiar at times and yet so unpredictable. It can be full of obstacles and new adventures. It can bring absolute frustration and pure joy. I know the road and can anticipate the way but I can't predict what may be in the way.<br />
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There's a reward for traveling this path. It leads to our trusted childcare. It's often inconvenient but it's the only way to get to where we need to go. Despite how many trips I've taken down that road, there's always something new and unexpected, like today's baby fawn. Tomorrow it may be a tractor going 5 miles per hour and I'll need to remember to give thanks for that miracle too!<br />
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<br />Carrie Lynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387453223356879766noreply@blogger.com0