tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90732438342448439632024-03-17T19:56:47.335-07:00Abby's AlleyAbigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.comBlogger620125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-28233482663504133062024-01-01T07:58:00.004-08:002024-01-01T07:58:00.249-08:0012 Months of Trees in Whittier<p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"> January: Saucer Magnolia, <i>soulangeana.</i></h3><p style="text-align: left;"><i> </i>This tree is my all time favorite. Perhaps because January is my birthday month. These trees bloom all month long as soon as the first wave of heat hits Whittier. Their blooms resemble teacups and saucers, pink and violet on the outside and white on the inside. I like to call them the tulip trees.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOnGfaF6sLL5q0nKIKwoCMF2f0kgUjBILrHUyqb3cbPSDFsrMY77csbE7MLiBuVOwgPyShtm237syukTL7UQwNupQNLtaXXcQWZywcyGEXiEC_H78M7rEPMi0GX2IhJ6nZ8W6NXvJ6CLiaEBhkAouLcGhXrIooNNmnbGaU8tlMYcloW03UrhzGD3AJ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOnGfaF6sLL5q0nKIKwoCMF2f0kgUjBILrHUyqb3cbPSDFsrMY77csbE7MLiBuVOwgPyShtm237syukTL7UQwNupQNLtaXXcQWZywcyGEXiEC_H78M7rEPMi0GX2IhJ6nZ8W6NXvJ6CLiaEBhkAouLcGhXrIooNNmnbGaU8tlMYcloW03UrhzGD3AJ=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saucer Magnolia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtAWOa1Z0kgRWB3q2zsYXh7AB0Nl943W5rfRohDpa20y25C62mMLy5JF5lK0OQLlWB884yTSxXxVFz1Kt7XRhic7O8kxvl3-_ZHEpphr-6WlwugRLF4AsAAv2pSEzdoQrL-iqcwBQk_iI8f3OFbRNto-L6OqhOfRHl298ioGW5jmbYgwU7qnHdIBA7" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtAWOa1Z0kgRWB3q2zsYXh7AB0Nl943W5rfRohDpa20y25C62mMLy5JF5lK0OQLlWB884yTSxXxVFz1Kt7XRhic7O8kxvl3-_ZHEpphr-6WlwugRLF4AsAAv2pSEzdoQrL-iqcwBQk_iI8f3OFbRNto-L6OqhOfRHl298ioGW5jmbYgwU7qnHdIBA7=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saucer Magnolia<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhji9V9yxfjwJzPUOp2bzKusX9YtBVyfOteBJ9mx2gJOs9MrBAYQe0Np1ZdNsMKB9qLyXTezyPeloEshp_Y7-LjuvwiinyMFVRzbS37Bk97Td1h6UjCICKmoopMipcD8GyGys_GeF0t-ZV1AThw3ghB91FAMnS6-vkJOpakyYCSVMgpUKxrUoSd5gHN" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhji9V9yxfjwJzPUOp2bzKusX9YtBVyfOteBJ9mx2gJOs9MrBAYQe0Np1ZdNsMKB9qLyXTezyPeloEshp_Y7-LjuvwiinyMFVRzbS37Bk97Td1h6UjCICKmoopMipcD8GyGys_GeF0t-ZV1AThw3ghB91FAMnS6-vkJOpakyYCSVMgpUKxrUoSd5gHN=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saucer Magnolia</td></tr></tbody></table></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">February: The Evergreen Pear Tree, <i>pyrus kawakamii. </i></h3><p style="text-align: left;">Bark like dragon skin and blooms like snow, this multi-seasonal tree looks gorgeous in spring and striking in fall. When the wind blows, the popcorn-like blooms flutter off the branches. In the late fall, the leaves turn astonishing colors. I like to call them the snow trees.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgavpOZSiBNaBJ6t4w2ZoKYiTu8L4c3Qq-GJdY6C8ycVqp2_WjbKP_maO2OiLrQcVLSez2GqLRnnQUh1PCASFVugc7BX7_STY4OsmRNJ3y-V4ettrB2AndAk_A1K9Wic2tA9lh4jG-PFqeh7q1qbkBcmBQZaFkNFZHTI36wFWnvW0x3Lym5p_bDu-jw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgavpOZSiBNaBJ6t4w2ZoKYiTu8L4c3Qq-GJdY6C8ycVqp2_WjbKP_maO2OiLrQcVLSez2GqLRnnQUh1PCASFVugc7BX7_STY4OsmRNJ3y-V4ettrB2AndAk_A1K9Wic2tA9lh4jG-PFqeh7q1qbkBcmBQZaFkNFZHTI36wFWnvW0x3Lym5p_bDu-jw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evergreen Pear</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-uqDUEsEydrK1VClIiUb5dFTMhdg4rjhd4Z8VGSvG8jPRHnBm7LIV1NDVvlE_4qaI1g1b2UZgIdgsS5d3JDD-sjbB6AUmk2vMEIvqbvveIhQhs-hWUzhcw3Mkmn-dxgqpGrQ1SYnPaN7oLrdTywyCdd-JSTu1Eh50qmvH2Q9ujZ5ngUMfs9pJVnw6" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-uqDUEsEydrK1VClIiUb5dFTMhdg4rjhd4Z8VGSvG8jPRHnBm7LIV1NDVvlE_4qaI1g1b2UZgIdgsS5d3JDD-sjbB6AUmk2vMEIvqbvveIhQhs-hWUzhcw3Mkmn-dxgqpGrQ1SYnPaN7oLrdTywyCdd-JSTu1Eh50qmvH2Q9ujZ5ngUMfs9pJVnw6=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evergreen Pear</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtO6b2GUqOO2_Ot34xwzRLnJ5IUIn83GeT98hm6ioiK7vlWTly-CfocqxwZdg_hh9OBgw2IzitmJzyShfhEZpDTbISaaJ-KBuXzGdZ7noycYQ1T_zICCAT4WftfWK1RWjrbQJr_VdkIIC_slVdc9XB8bGmy9kDO5n9hrzm-hoXQN93vl2vP9JziUne" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtO6b2GUqOO2_Ot34xwzRLnJ5IUIn83GeT98hm6ioiK7vlWTly-CfocqxwZdg_hh9OBgw2IzitmJzyShfhEZpDTbISaaJ-KBuXzGdZ7noycYQ1T_zICCAT4WftfWK1RWjrbQJr_VdkIIC_slVdc9XB8bGmy9kDO5n9hrzm-hoXQN93vl2vP9JziUne=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evergreen Pear Leaves</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">March: Camellia, c<i>amellia;</i> White Redbud, <i>Cercis canadensis</i>; Navel Orange, c<i>itrus sinensis; </i>Wisteria, <i>wisteria</i></h3><div>There are just too many trees to choose from in March, so I put several here. The Camilla blooms early and has such a variety of flowers brightening these glossy green shrubs. The Eastern Redbud (a whitebud is pictured here) is so picturesque this time of year. It's counter partner, the redbud, has reddish-pink flowers and dark red heart-shaped leaves. </div><div><br /></div><div>We cannot forget the citrus trees this time of year, which are popping with delicious smelling blooms and bees galore. While usually the blooms are hidden behind their leaves, you can't miss the smell. Lastly, I include wisteria, which is not a tree—although it's pictured as one here—but so glorious that I couldn't exclude it. It's blooms also have a heavenly scent and the clusters of purple flowers look like abundant grapes. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9BsZhc2kIkMKa9MEFwP4eayYXbXAFkQk1C0PSMWzIk8SfnHlkcGzB-bK2NSJWA6VP16EV4yemvMDfZhPLVJx80Q57DH-gCdmQ5oqxACUMx37kAESuIb4vPaZ8QAuLKYYcqcyKd9zwDzcn1T-EorXJVNzTlrqYo9Az59o-7upAejzct1q15dOiTyz/s4032/camilla.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9BsZhc2kIkMKa9MEFwP4eayYXbXAFkQk1C0PSMWzIk8SfnHlkcGzB-bK2NSJWA6VP16EV4yemvMDfZhPLVJx80Q57DH-gCdmQ5oqxACUMx37kAESuIb4vPaZ8QAuLKYYcqcyKd9zwDzcn1T-EorXJVNzTlrqYo9Az59o-7upAejzct1q15dOiTyz/w400-h300/camilla.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camellia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeI2N4GnMD9pxzqxLgekKW1z47-UxGjM0DCIAYn-mw_lZ6Zs-9OTeAHPue1BQUpg4I53fq9LDz0Wu8ryAqgSmcNJjBmr6YSva4_TAcc8DVRECXTAbh_qnxDRJz5yNelpC7mard_t4rDLOYaM6KgFJvuID3PWiZwouRM0ppAqgphh8LHEVB0vuVwev/s4032/IMG_8334.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeI2N4GnMD9pxzqxLgekKW1z47-UxGjM0DCIAYn-mw_lZ6Zs-9OTeAHPue1BQUpg4I53fq9LDz0Wu8ryAqgSmcNJjBmr6YSva4_TAcc8DVRECXTAbh_qnxDRJz5yNelpC7mard_t4rDLOYaM6KgFJvuID3PWiZwouRM0ppAqgphh8LHEVB0vuVwev/w640-h480/IMG_8334.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camellia</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmHuQ3lpFcOPxRwxu_BG0TKhw5V_f3ScStpM46vzO_R1rOM7z0DOHQ8WYvFCFh3jO23jg1XMuO0gy2xToOD4dmEBqRZKiHh4RLHi-pRexz2XEHBocB4XuyWB09qRV44nh7c1OO9aZxlIZDKxIUMChX2O0Pi372NO7coxxf62FatCnDCP3_FOy1QJ0/s4032/IMG_8339.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmHuQ3lpFcOPxRwxu_BG0TKhw5V_f3ScStpM46vzO_R1rOM7z0DOHQ8WYvFCFh3jO23jg1XMuO0gy2xToOD4dmEBqRZKiHh4RLHi-pRexz2XEHBocB4XuyWB09qRV44nh7c1OO9aZxlIZDKxIUMChX2O0Pi372NO7coxxf62FatCnDCP3_FOy1QJ0/w640-h480/IMG_8339.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Redbud</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvzU1CSEbl9G22elBukCpagB3MYK0S4otJXIKaZoRga8MKZg6A1rsJ4ymyaAaQCpqmbP836DF_g1idG45zE-nPSns-q19SYS7wczsXiXzqIZJ2RxVgFm5AG2k2c5xIjqD7PS3PiaU_tNlRkl7m7o7EkTNCYTvxU3qo8_Y02lvXd2P27U9OQuVh9m4/s4032/orange.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvzU1CSEbl9G22elBukCpagB3MYK0S4otJXIKaZoRga8MKZg6A1rsJ4ymyaAaQCpqmbP836DF_g1idG45zE-nPSns-q19SYS7wczsXiXzqIZJ2RxVgFm5AG2k2c5xIjqD7PS3PiaU_tNlRkl7m7o7EkTNCYTvxU3qo8_Y02lvXd2P27U9OQuVh9m4/w480-h640/orange.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navel Orange</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8g_eD0KEEUZGdvKgBwKb_2XTwBzpkyXOasiEtVzizWM4vUC3UA224YiFXO1V_wxVJf2hoIbShcG8lKD0Fhdvx3f5e2j11VIzcIIIuzC1jJvX00ooFeEuhjB8wrnZyBw11K9-UXaM7K2aKtiWVhGx8wJgMa87-cXtlsWSCoieKlUULBY9ULQZ6Plc1/s4032/wisteria.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8g_eD0KEEUZGdvKgBwKb_2XTwBzpkyXOasiEtVzizWM4vUC3UA224YiFXO1V_wxVJf2hoIbShcG8lKD0Fhdvx3f5e2j11VIzcIIIuzC1jJvX00ooFeEuhjB8wrnZyBw11K9-UXaM7K2aKtiWVhGx8wJgMa87-cXtlsWSCoieKlUULBY9ULQZ6Plc1/w480-h640/wisteria.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wisteria</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;">April: Pink Trumpet Tree, <i>tabebuia heptaphylla.</i></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i> </i>These trees could be nicknamed the cotton candy trees. The pink color on them is breathtaking; however, at any other time of the year, you wouldn't notice them. They also come in a hot yellow version that will just about hurt your eyes to look at them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDGWaHZAUh3xtdq_zEtBftWwjb2KaqLJZ5oAB7AQK80hLGfduzIffJWMXams9Y2KRp_nnY61HXWxeDrwq64W9lgVl1Rxr8OX9WPHiURZhzzzBqTp2v-iZ74uSd47szo-xvzOhaB-bKFgIAuvimtyy30pYupjQqs4SR2G8AKvP_1013OYVXr0DACvEh" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDGWaHZAUh3xtdq_zEtBftWwjb2KaqLJZ5oAB7AQK80hLGfduzIffJWMXams9Y2KRp_nnY61HXWxeDrwq64W9lgVl1Rxr8OX9WPHiURZhzzzBqTp2v-iZ74uSd47szo-xvzOhaB-bKFgIAuvimtyy30pYupjQqs4SR2G8AKvP_1013OYVXr0DACvEh=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Trumpet Tree</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OpssjRBVJgILfpkU_AZZwfD0eUlhMooGdSuNYJp49H7Ugbf3sH0CBCVc2BC64HI6nRO17iQGozjK4AnlvRPnobDRuUbQWs_Zx6BW7jTeUChYZiCArmaMxnpLm0ujOYTOx_yQ87DbfGIBrdhzWjT5y3_ZtNWufPLMan6WhN31kV0PpS2JmX1xnbf8/s4032/IMG_8427.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OpssjRBVJgILfpkU_AZZwfD0eUlhMooGdSuNYJp49H7Ugbf3sH0CBCVc2BC64HI6nRO17iQGozjK4AnlvRPnobDRuUbQWs_Zx6BW7jTeUChYZiCArmaMxnpLm0ujOYTOx_yQ87DbfGIBrdhzWjT5y3_ZtNWufPLMan6WhN31kV0PpS2JmX1xnbf8/w480-h640/IMG_8427.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Trumpet Tree</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">May: Hong King Orchid Tree,<i> bauhinia blakeana</i></h3><div>Several streets in Uptown Whittier have this as their street tree, and the view down these streets this time of year is stunning. They look like hallways decorated for a wedding. Each individual flower on the tree is so exquisite and detailed. It would make a beautiful painting. These trees also come in a more vibrant pink and a white. I often call these trees the butterfly tries because their leaves are butterfly shaped.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_Sw6ZLi_bLfdanJh3eREH9xTYkTuRs2lQxCuLtjzrJE3XEu0Wig5mFZSa1pXnA0HvGpVQP9tIw06eCgVe76U8ziKOdZCOlHSuJvQa3_ePbMbXB-tQH01dqiG1Kb4kC9z7PcnAvqSaumnDj5J2qUPuG-EUKmwqBR8ThNUKSGpMgXMVakW-EHM9Nfa/s3019/close%20up%20flowers.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3019" data-original-width="1962" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_Sw6ZLi_bLfdanJh3eREH9xTYkTuRs2lQxCuLtjzrJE3XEu0Wig5mFZSa1pXnA0HvGpVQP9tIw06eCgVe76U8ziKOdZCOlHSuJvQa3_ePbMbXB-tQH01dqiG1Kb4kC9z7PcnAvqSaumnDj5J2qUPuG-EUKmwqBR8ThNUKSGpMgXMVakW-EHM9Nfa/w260-h400/close%20up%20flowers.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hong Kong Orchid Blooms</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwg7SVroYXhHA-4rDMNKLMMmAeJQFKGhfOgF8z2pnH-f1Ujx0YjnzY7ewU75PrYBemC8dj6zPFHd-_4_p5Q8UPAgdloMMjU_qD4kYtkZLdIJ4GhIeDXuSc6PJ_9-BWcSza0Xx-7UaEq0WAo7wo6xHm69Mxfx0LeD7AHm4Km3WWBg3vDZ-TV5eluhJ8/s4032/pink%20orchid.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwg7SVroYXhHA-4rDMNKLMMmAeJQFKGhfOgF8z2pnH-f1Ujx0YjnzY7ewU75PrYBemC8dj6zPFHd-_4_p5Q8UPAgdloMMjU_qD4kYtkZLdIJ4GhIeDXuSc6PJ_9-BWcSza0Xx-7UaEq0WAo7wo6xHm69Mxfx0LeD7AHm4Km3WWBg3vDZ-TV5eluhJ8/w480-h640/pink%20orchid.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hong Kong Orchid Tree</td></tr></tbody></table></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MY7AVOhfkwjpG8-1hdSgIX8-e5BU00eBnxIk1E1q6Vi1sVE8TFb0CIShv-ZPNN91bwtSmIp7tZiRw901KOixsLyeZOiJIa83h2RShze4pxi9TA6nGPugmyurEUknDii6aA1jr0wTlk_tqLtC3d4uYQGN4q7sU0EnZvfIf-fmuk1KhVSiwjxTH5P4/s4032/white%20orchid.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MY7AVOhfkwjpG8-1hdSgIX8-e5BU00eBnxIk1E1q6Vi1sVE8TFb0CIShv-ZPNN91bwtSmIp7tZiRw901KOixsLyeZOiJIa83h2RShze4pxi9TA6nGPugmyurEUknDii6aA1jr0wTlk_tqLtC3d4uYQGN4q7sU0EnZvfIf-fmuk1KhVSiwjxTH5P4/w480-h640/white%20orchid.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hong Kong Orchid</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzusC0kj5nPxM8T4MMqjP8dysGvPx-WLQsV940TmQKrfG7Sjmn2CBC6cVrGVPMk2qF5bto2_ew0Ll_O2Rf2HDhX_09P_-Gn7pS5-gtj5IWqtrPMqAyd7kz1NWKi4LGmrut_6SWl1ImBnS0AvwW7ddQRdVr5iWP_i0zfniM9fk-4iUz_QsLzvzp2b0K/s4032/lacy%20tree.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzusC0kj5nPxM8T4MMqjP8dysGvPx-WLQsV940TmQKrfG7Sjmn2CBC6cVrGVPMk2qF5bto2_ew0Ll_O2Rf2HDhX_09P_-Gn7pS5-gtj5IWqtrPMqAyd7kz1NWKi4LGmrut_6SWl1ImBnS0AvwW7ddQRdVr5iWP_i0zfniM9fk-4iUz_QsLzvzp2b0K/w480-h640/lacy%20tree.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">June: Jacaranda, <i>jacaranda</i> <i>mimosifolia.</i></h3><div><i> </i> These trees have a lovely scented purple flower that falls on the Whittier streets, and when the cars drive over them make a gentle popping sound. Though rather leggy, when these trees line both sides of the street, they create a hazy purple tunnel.<br /></div><div><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3cLKKD-aBU2WZyqXXcNbzqUKGPY3Vxh8_cx4czCThO8hgN94UHHipQvpI5JovoSCQwRlV4wYQbAN8H9Y3-qB39rudjaRT2XhmljIwTsDObZam1zN4eu5FPsexyzNenIIncSmYTmZ3mZTXJKxZjSPBVunbUIfuSd8VBjTPa9oJSeyAYszbYvQNzXdx" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3cLKKD-aBU2WZyqXXcNbzqUKGPY3Vxh8_cx4czCThO8hgN94UHHipQvpI5JovoSCQwRlV4wYQbAN8H9Y3-qB39rudjaRT2XhmljIwTsDObZam1zN4eu5FPsexyzNenIIncSmYTmZ3mZTXJKxZjSPBVunbUIfuSd8VBjTPa9oJSeyAYszbYvQNzXdx=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacaranda</td></tr></tbody></table></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">September: Pink Silk Floss Tree, <i>ceiba speciosa.</i></h3><div><span> </span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrySdUkjafItjVm6pkhQ7wj47gy7ag9QY0SHvuL8wXAgNLZqzHq-bB6PYet0xcVaXdaS027gRCxVrU04Um-XPl6iq0O5I6CNQBn02ZS_yt0zKA4ggLWb9G3XUoiZFEzpvEiIoklsBF-h4ohXhuc8nE-7Ig0-niIZnWGVSLThMwIowOFqbJOpNFeyUY" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1665" data-original-width="1716" height="622" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrySdUkjafItjVm6pkhQ7wj47gy7ag9QY0SHvuL8wXAgNLZqzHq-bB6PYet0xcVaXdaS027gRCxVrU04Um-XPl6iq0O5I6CNQBn02ZS_yt0zKA4ggLWb9G3XUoiZFEzpvEiIoklsBF-h4ohXhuc8nE-7Ig0-niIZnWGVSLThMwIowOFqbJOpNFeyUY=w640-h622" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Silk Floss Tree</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPEQml0gvf2KhfZY1mjEna9RvXtId6zHb_FSj5O-Iy42sAnAEZ5BDmMtTmJ7TVLduGs0nYzmbg6_WQSjZnArPnXq4KVOKmxYSsFZrfFqVoGrjT8liiubr6WRNuu9n_7bjXu6bn3ngYSyIb4Fx8qw1GbD6VyHEnmmlJ6ze3BdrVvNKLAbutMp2pZYgf" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPEQml0gvf2KhfZY1mjEna9RvXtId6zHb_FSj5O-Iy42sAnAEZ5BDmMtTmJ7TVLduGs0nYzmbg6_WQSjZnArPnXq4KVOKmxYSsFZrfFqVoGrjT8liiubr6WRNuu9n_7bjXu6bn3ngYSyIb4Fx8qw1GbD6VyHEnmmlJ6ze3BdrVvNKLAbutMp2pZYgf=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Silk Floss Tree</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAYxyqEd07wmrwc2-hDAF0nR3LBhUxGkWx_iajHvYJ9oQwYcc3JKh4StGLCxL29yhb4vALkUKPnASg4S0ITKg5P0jI2ABVCsyCbZHdurdjUzIp0qq9R1BOQScbErfkx4kRoVh8tpzUxWPgIQNDMCIhh6EmeKpOHmNepk8o1pF19Iu7gp9_yDJXajLY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2310" data-original-width="2062" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAYxyqEd07wmrwc2-hDAF0nR3LBhUxGkWx_iajHvYJ9oQwYcc3JKh4StGLCxL29yhb4vALkUKPnASg4S0ITKg5P0jI2ABVCsyCbZHdurdjUzIp0qq9R1BOQScbErfkx4kRoVh8tpzUxWPgIQNDMCIhh6EmeKpOHmNepk8o1pF19Iu7gp9_yDJXajLY=w571-h640" width="571" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwokluofEdOqBJqrSJ3Tj3chkivCRFYx5LYb9nqEuVRgVPCbVOs7odSHog-3o3mnjKtx2teXSko_wm8M8gQRMHan6P60wOWhc4bCuVh46c6YNlxzPlgNiEqkRSw3W676lR40UNSwzWjadoKobbXZqb8_KehoykKTrW8E1Yd4WZrBxXOSPx-zVmV3MU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwokluofEdOqBJqrSJ3Tj3chkivCRFYx5LYb9nqEuVRgVPCbVOs7odSHog-3o3mnjKtx2teXSko_wm8M8gQRMHan6P60wOWhc4bCuVh46c6YNlxzPlgNiEqkRSw3W676lR40UNSwzWjadoKobbXZqb8_KehoykKTrW8E1Yd4WZrBxXOSPx-zVmV3MU" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhih1ZJMnr-sTzopoZshQ0vJ4LwWib96-VWQxil_hVieQ5TQFV12mjD3mbvhri9TNJfojKD7Z10ORWzTy-hIn_I0AT5FK2sWGDBXwtxivoZKS50bX38UtwpBefAJZV2DUUSwORsq-4jTgtoe9aWI-VUfAdE3ubnReZrdrmCO04W6u6GShdD1yNALg3D" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhih1ZJMnr-sTzopoZshQ0vJ4LwWib96-VWQxil_hVieQ5TQFV12mjD3mbvhri9TNJfojKD7Z10ORWzTy-hIn_I0AT5FK2sWGDBXwtxivoZKS50bX38UtwpBefAJZV2DUUSwORsq-4jTgtoe9aWI-VUfAdE3ubnReZrdrmCO04W6u6GShdD1yNALg3D" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-33279333196670158652023-08-22T09:09:00.005-07:002023-08-22T09:12:17.031-07:00Moving My Blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzbJmgFZHlsvVQnrLSy0wpDCHLh5W4ryVdgcJITeuDSbMqQiVPmxqKqky3Elsw87ZBr6hVRoOAO_8qjGMwJ3GlKr8bELimIkyKzwNhQSCrjEeb-hqy1PlBIF5khz-bfJRLllK2q63M9veQkHVJZSWnO1I0Sj3DrrhIRIPDjP_kiWWBP6go3Uoiebcgyo/s1440/Screen%20Shot%202023-08-22%20at%209.10.32%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzbJmgFZHlsvVQnrLSy0wpDCHLh5W4ryVdgcJITeuDSbMqQiVPmxqKqky3Elsw87ZBr6hVRoOAO_8qjGMwJ3GlKr8bELimIkyKzwNhQSCrjEeb-hqy1PlBIF5khz-bfJRLllK2q63M9veQkHVJZSWnO1I0Sj3DrrhIRIPDjP_kiWWBP6go3Uoiebcgyo/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-08-22%20at%209.10.32%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p> Hey! I'm moving my blog over to a new site. Click here for access. <a href="https://abigailjoystevens.substack.com/">Abby's Alley New Website</a></p><p>This new website allows for easier subscription and sharing.</p><p><br /></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-9588642120519108492023-07-03T11:03:00.007-07:002023-07-03T11:12:21.707-07:00Church History Observations<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6NsIirPXM4eJncDFfkGyATGLRyd2uB2SPyUXXT1f0J4yagl6XpUPUAR3e9FwVQ4WOKy5iHi6LngHvRqnctsCmfQBB8bHYzeamAdElgf2Gk6Ixhu_Q18mq9Ku6_le5hE-_cIQmX0ZkY2rn8WaoJKm8t8MiJ0RFUY-1ZzRkigj3MXnu2GDJ1mIf5xewd4/s1000/church%20histroy.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6NsIirPXM4eJncDFfkGyATGLRyd2uB2SPyUXXT1f0J4yagl6XpUPUAR3e9FwVQ4WOKy5iHi6LngHvRqnctsCmfQBB8bHYzeamAdElgf2Gk6Ixhu_Q18mq9Ku6_le5hE-_cIQmX0ZkY2rn8WaoJKm8t8MiJ0RFUY-1ZzRkigj3MXnu2GDJ1mIf5xewd4/s320/church%20histroy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p><span> </span>I've been reading <i>Church History in Plain Languag</i>e by Bruce L. Shelley, and learning all sort of interesting things. One of those things is that Church history isn't necessarily the same thing as the history of the Kingdom of Heaven. I suppose if God were to write a book about the history of his kingdom, he might choose different key players to highlight. Certainly, popes and heretics and reformers all played a part in guiding and shaping different time periods, but perhaps they are not as important as we think.</p><p><span> </span>One rather fascinating aspect that Shelley traces through time is the church's various sources of guidance and leadership. There are the church fathers, the emperors, the popes, the councils, the kings, the reformers, the councils, etc. From Constantinople on, church matters were decided by those in power and leadership: the emperor, the king, the pope. And while this style of leadership and decision-making continued in some places after the reformation, the reformation began a new way of discovering the truth and making decisions, and that was through the authority of scripture. </p><p><span> </span>Authoritative positions continued to hold sway, since only those who could read the scriptures in their original languages could interpret them and only those in power could change the laws, but the truth became slightly less dependent upon those in power and more dependent on what the Bible itself said.</p><p><span> </span>These shifts in authority aren't characteristic of all Christians everywhere. Shelley is tracing mainstream organized churches. I'm sure there were little groups of Christ followers who were still being lead by the Holy Spirit despite not having access to scriptures, but we probably won't learn about those people until we're in heaven.</p><p><span> The next shift </span>that Shelley notes is from scripture to human reason, which occurred during the 1700's. I find it interesting that this is when the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of rights were written. Deism also became a popular because it gave people a way to continue believing in God but not have to bother about him much.</p><p><span> </span>Obviously, not all Christians substituted the Bible for reason. There were theologians who argued that human reason couldn't discover all truth on its own. It needed divine revelation. However, I see how this era influenced the Christians of the day and thereafter. One example is in the Bible Commentaries of William Barclay. In these commentaries, Barclay assumes most all miracles couldn't have actually happened. It's rather peculiar because he doesn't defend this assumption. He just continues on as if we all thought the same. Perhaps his original audience were still living in the fall-out of the Age of Human Reason. Or maybe there was an Age of Science that prompted this as well.</p><p><span> Tracing such trends prompts me to wonder what age we're in now. What influences are guiding Christians to believe certain truths and act upon them? I haven't come to that part in the book yet, but my guess is that mankind is transitioning from the Age of Science to the Age of Environment. The Age of Science would be the era where if science said one thing and scripture said another, church authorities follow what science said. For example, if scripture say the sun rises, and science says the earth spins, we believe science not scripture. This is a bad example. Saying the sun rises is just a turn of phrase. But this is the idea. Again, the Age of Science has reason to doubt miracles and throw out Christ's resurrection too, but some Christians have come to see how God uses science to interact in the world. We don't need to reject one or the other. </span></p><p><span> The Age of Environment—please recall this is Abby making stuff up not Shelley—would be this new era we're coming into where we're influenced and motivated by our impact on the environment. If Scripture says to increase and multiply, but the environment says, we can't handle it, then we obey what the popular thinking of the Age of Environment says. By "we" I mean popular church trends, not all Christians. The Age of Equality and Freedom is probably in there too, where we're motivated by treating everyone equally regardless of color, gender, or persuasion and letting everyone do or believe whatever they wish.</span><br /></p><p><span><span> It seems that each age has some good to offer, something new it adds to the world. We learn more about God's world through each new era. But there's also plenty to throw out in each era too, plenty that people take too far, that disregards God's revelation and the Crucifix and it's power in our lives. </span></span></p><p><span><span><span> It's tricky isn't it? Knowing what to throw out and what to keep? I imagine if we were to resort back to the beliefs of the first church, we would have a lot of false beliefs about shame and individuality, inequality, racism, and science. We don't want to go back to that. No. Nor do we want to build walls against the new beliefs mounting around us: this Age of Equality or Age of Environment, as I've called it. They have something to offer us too. If we will listen to what the Holy Spirit is saying through them.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span> </span></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-10317259221310263522023-06-28T20:39:00.016-07:002023-06-29T08:01:44.684-07:00Where Artists Get Their Ideas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoNoqWiRz_GBR8zmzirDUuCJgnEymH4B9gEtAj8eWMntH8evWIs6ZMU7Il2f9sbB0uWVOoh6pRGhkPygQ7_I5D9MrzYtAC28Q6udj3L68cUw_fyThYA1xZLTf26o7R6Y0pi_jZ2MIM8DNPpTw9BfrQpu-X6P08DCtkRf9EhH7S4QGK-4G7gE5Ii3PxAU/s1440/wallpaperflare.com_wallpaper.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoNoqWiRz_GBR8zmzirDUuCJgnEymH4B9gEtAj8eWMntH8evWIs6ZMU7Il2f9sbB0uWVOoh6pRGhkPygQ7_I5D9MrzYtAC28Q6udj3L68cUw_fyThYA1xZLTf26o7R6Y0pi_jZ2MIM8DNPpTw9BfrQpu-X6P08DCtkRf9EhH7S4QGK-4G7gE5Ii3PxAU/s320/wallpaperflare.com_wallpaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span> </span>It seems to me that it is the same with all artists and craftsmen, inventors and cooks. They are inspired by the smell of basil, a lovely song someone shared, the sight of a sparrow in the garden, the sunlight turning the hills gold, a child's funny question, a thought expressed in a book, the pain of losing a parent. </p><p><span> </span>The song or the sun or the smell evokes a message, a course of action, a kind of beauty that wells up inside the artist and begs to be embodied in words or paint or a piece of carved wood or a dish of flavors set on the table before a loved one. </p><p><span> </span>Even law makers do this. They see a problem or an injustice that begs for action. An idea of goodness asks them to draft a new law. </p><p><span> </span>It manifests itself as a kind of yearning, a compulsion perhaps, to do or to express that whiff of something that we caught. Although, perhaps "caught" isn't the right word. So often it doesn't feel as if we did anything to catch an idea. It feels as if someone opened up our minds and dropped something inside. We were jogging or doing the dishes or paying the bills, and suddenly we were arrested by that something else, that current of truth or beauty or goodness, which must be expressed in some form. So we paint or cook or invent or compose until we reproduce the thing in a tangible form. </p><p><span> </span>Quite often at this point, the artist gets stuck on the creation and forgets the power that compelled its making. Quite often an artist tries to recreate the circumstances where the idea overtook them so that they can experience that same thrill of being the conduit for something entirely outside themselves. Sometimes the artist fails to translate the idea into its medium, and instead they produce something like little images of themselves on paper or in song. Sometimes the artist begins to believe they were the source of the thing invented or the law enacted or the dress designed. They go on tours and accept homage from admirers.</p><p><span> </span>And still others recognize that they were merely the window through which a brilliant light has shone. They consider themselves honored and privileged to have been involved. And they admire the creation just as much as if someone else had made it. They recognize that the creation isn't themselves. It isn't a commentary on their identity, but something rather separate. Something outside themselves: a power and beauty and truth and goodness so much greater than themselves that they are humbled to be asked by him to convey the message to others.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-19629973266071340962023-06-23T08:03:00.012-07:002023-06-23T09:59:37.835-07:00How the Roses Lost Their Petals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ifLzeBp3xV7hLNXcbYR_8406Aj945HbgsBt02rQJWsZKOpUCQjsD2w_fnOl5aeS2vj-hXqg5gS5OQcuMqeyhTTx25jEV-cl-GucyU-l3jzfD7G-tayZh7zL_Sulfb2HoTQUfzO7TkHeDtPZtNneWU6Wx3Z4AAB_FqLkbY9C1YXngSro2TRvK30vqNZA/s4032/petals.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ifLzeBp3xV7hLNXcbYR_8406Aj945HbgsBt02rQJWsZKOpUCQjsD2w_fnOl5aeS2vj-hXqg5gS5OQcuMqeyhTTx25jEV-cl-GucyU-l3jzfD7G-tayZh7zL_Sulfb2HoTQUfzO7TkHeDtPZtNneWU6Wx3Z4AAB_FqLkbY9C1YXngSro2TRvK30vqNZA/w300-h400/petals.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Petals are scattered across the grass</div><div style="text-align: center;">From yesterday's child's play,</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Like white confetti beneath the bushes</div><div style="text-align: center;">Icebergs bloomed in May.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This was no wedding that took place</div><div style="text-align: center;">Between brother, sister, or dolls.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No, these are the remnants left behind</div><div style="text-align: center;">When fury seized the smalls.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I do no understand their thoughts</div><div style="text-align: center;">When petals they plucked off.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Perhaps they thought they'd harm each other</div><div style="text-align: center;">By throwing petals aloft.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">They were not mad at me you see,</div><div style="text-align: center;">For which they did this deed;</div><div style="text-align: center;">But at each other for some odd cause,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Perhaps some unmet need.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"I am the king," one might've said,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Or so one supposes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Oh no, you're not!" the other replied.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thus began the War of Roses.</div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiTO3NKe4IjzNryNCr_llHHSoQO0c8w0ZfcetQsehjj_GnTaa1HGSAT9kiUfYSWDVRrb1NPdHLBoRnqY1pLrN8Xp8G9JeW3VfTM29aKA_age8-eiEHnDs52XYc6U4GI0t1XBvAJNeRBU-d990CTZx-dpv4WPcpFzQYIFG9wpXY05CWId-ZtSjKZjDamQ/s3227/no%20roses.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3022" data-original-width="3227" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiTO3NKe4IjzNryNCr_llHHSoQO0c8w0ZfcetQsehjj_GnTaa1HGSAT9kiUfYSWDVRrb1NPdHLBoRnqY1pLrN8Xp8G9JeW3VfTM29aKA_age8-eiEHnDs52XYc6U4GI0t1XBvAJNeRBU-d990CTZx-dpv4WPcpFzQYIFG9wpXY05CWId-ZtSjKZjDamQ/s320/no%20roses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More on children and flowers: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/my-son-decapitated-my-iris.html">My Son Decapitated My Iris</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/07/gardeners-world-tips.html">Gardener's World Tips</a></div></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-49012420802593877582023-06-07T16:31:00.019-07:002023-06-21T14:49:28.893-07:00The Tale of Two Warriors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeysd6UZVcOeVS7s1BznEX6LtSA0yyAmkeGJ0EieXVILzXBzvAfg42hY_FoH9jwtE6ULce5E2L4fnPxBtrOLJeOb_s4eAVhFlQEj7r9fqw0gzuLK_yaTcUb0Vne3hpNIJ3bVDc6geYaFGXDzlsIG8-St0pmvEJpxzvkEVe6JR-1SUAsd2XRXAhwxSR/s602/Vikings.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="602" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeysd6UZVcOeVS7s1BznEX6LtSA0yyAmkeGJ0EieXVILzXBzvAfg42hY_FoH9jwtE6ULce5E2L4fnPxBtrOLJeOb_s4eAVhFlQEj7r9fqw0gzuLK_yaTcUb0Vne3hpNIJ3bVDc6geYaFGXDzlsIG8-St0pmvEJpxzvkEVe6JR-1SUAsd2XRXAhwxSR/w400-h266/Vikings.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p>They'd heard rumors that a longship was sailing south along the shore, and they'd heard it might land near their village of Molore. They'd heard it carried a band of robbers looking for homes unprotected. And though no one had seen the danger and rumors often fly, the old woman caught the village warrior by the arm near the chapel when the sunshine was bright.</p><p>"Fight for me?" she asked the strong man when the birds were singing sweet. Her cottage stood along the shore aways from the village proper. But all these years no harm had come to her or her milking cow, her livelihood of butter and cream. She asked him just like she'd asked him to mend things in her home: the thatch, a shutter, the hinge on her door. And he replied as he had many times before.</p><p><i>She does not mean it,</i> he thinks. <i>And nor do I for that matter. No ships have ever come to our shores to plunder a single home.</i></p><p>But the very next evening she sees a ship in the west, sailing beside a red setting sun. She looks out her shutters and shudders to hear the drum, the sound telling the paddlers to paddle for shore. </p><p>Then the old woman comes again to him, to his door in the middle of supper. "Fight for me!" she begs, and he sees the terror in her eyes this time. Perhaps too, he can hear the drum beating down by the shore.</p><p>He does not answer. He may be wounded. He may be killed. He may make himself a man marked for revenge. He has his own house to tend and guard. And if he leaves it, he may lose it for the sake of this old woman and his vow. But he has a sword hung on the wall by the door and it's sharp for he keeps it so with a whet stone by the fire. And he has a shield in a crate under the bed for he is the village warrior, the best man in the town. How could he not defend the old woman as he might a young maid?</p><p>So he unhooks his sword and takes up his shield and runs to the old woman's house as the boat drives into the sand. The looters, there are five, jump down with greedy smile and they fixate on that man, and that cottage where the cow feeds in the garden. </p><p>He does not know if he alone will best so many, but he catches the woman by the arm at her door and asks her to do the same. "Pray for me," he begs and she knows what he means. She sees the fear in his eyes and can feel his pulse beating in his grasp. </p><p>She does not answer for she too must count the cost. For just as he is the village warrior, she is the village prayer. And unlike modern times where prayers are muttered in work, her prayers are all consuming on bended knee and eyes pressed shut. And if she kneels and closes her eyes, refuses to defend her own home, who will close the shutters and who will bar the door? Who will smother lighted arrows that fly through window onto straw-strewn floor? And if her eyes are shut, will she see the looters come? How will she block any blows that they might throw upon her frail frame? </p><p>But she has a God she worships at the chapel every day, and a faith she hangs her hopes upon for her breath and food and life. So while he fights with sword, she'll fight on bended knee with eyes closed and ears refusing to give in to the sounds of war. Though she hears her warrior cry and the sound of sword on sword, she remains on the floor and begs her God to be their protector and power. </p><p>And when the last scream falls silent and her knees are as stiff as ice, she crawls from her cottage to see what has happened outside her house on the beach. There in her garden lay ill-willed men and collapsed from exhaustion is her warrior on the sand. She gives him a drink and raises his head. He sees the battle has been won that day, and thanks the old woman for fighting with him in the fray.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-79811153263002323002023-06-05T13:37:00.019-07:002023-06-05T15:08:42.069-07:00Who Should Fear ChatGPT?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg487CUkXUiwcEI0wcuRsw9VuefbW_6SAPA-ZlTRj3kD41Eqi7npZJtzrDLTJmsL17d1M7Ogmt56D5Bdw74WDy034o-GUtmQR2J_0a5iCPKfH-sHdArWTWJoQEGKTOLxDeOpviOg0KHS9eQAhC9NGvuWDJRvNoK8sikH_tk6UlnSPbo4Y8CM_cUWM/s1200/64063dbcad97bd421b437096_chatgpt.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="1200" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg487CUkXUiwcEI0wcuRsw9VuefbW_6SAPA-ZlTRj3kD41Eqi7npZJtzrDLTJmsL17d1M7Ogmt56D5Bdw74WDy034o-GUtmQR2J_0a5iCPKfH-sHdArWTWJoQEGKTOLxDeOpviOg0KHS9eQAhC9NGvuWDJRvNoK8sikH_tk6UlnSPbo4Y8CM_cUWM/s320/64063dbcad97bd421b437096_chatgpt.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">You have reason to fear ChatGPT i</span><span style="text-align: justify;">f you have been living your life like a human robot.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> If you wake up, dress, eat, work, shop, converse, and sleep, day after day in monotonous succession without creating or inventing or discovering or learning or growing, then you are becoming like a robot, and you have reason to fear Chat GPT. The robots might replace you if you continue like this.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">If you believe that the universe is made up of only matter, if you believe that human beings are only what we can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell, if you believe people are only as good as what they can produce, then you have reason to fear ChatGPT. </span><span style="text-align: justify;">You have reason to fear because this means there's nothing particularly special about you. You can only hope to become a glorified robot, and ChatGPT can already do something better than most humans.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;">In case you haven't heard, ChatGPT is an artificial intelligence that takes words and patterns of human language and rearranges them to produce written material, essays, letters, poems, stories, etc. However, it does not create or invent. It merely rearranges what's been given to it after being prompted.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">If humans are basically forces that rearrange pre-existing matter, then humans don't create things either. We merely rearrange them. We take wood and rearrange it to make a house. We take oil and burn it to make energy. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It is as the writer of Ecclesiastics claimed, "What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun." (Ecc. 1:9 ESV)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">However, if you believe that humans are more than just a collection of cells and impulses, that humans are intrinsically different than animals and robots, that humans can add something to the universe, that they are in fact creators, then ChatGPT is merely another invention of mankind like the automobile and the gramophone. It is making a great amount of fuss and noise. Some people will use it to break the law while others will use it to better the world. But ultimately, it is a technological invention and not a human. It can never replace a living, breathing, growing, learning, inventing, creating human.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Obviously, I'm of the later opinion. I believe that humans are more than matter and are capable of bringing new things into the world. I don't mean new elements into the periodic table but something else, something you cannot hear, touch, taste, smell, or see. Insight, you might call it. Increasing awareness. Revelation even. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I believe that humans are the funnels through which new inventions and creations come into the world. I also believe that someone is pouring these new ideas into us. And if we live our lives disconnected from that source, without daily revelation or communion, as some might say, we should indeed fear ChatGPT. We should also fear living like robots, only able to recycle all that's already been said and done and thought.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-64160359620469438202023-05-21T14:13:00.047-07:002023-07-17T21:12:33.316-07:00The Waiting Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzh4LjsH9f1FR4_scycMqOU5Ycuc26zigY8KnI_NNWjownwmdrXVjbg1whppKl5YdPh5G5x6zjv4SU-pSz-Us_V6-s2oRbB9WjP1kK1vZ5qd-r0xT98nxh0lga3pMkGhlgFeh9ELDofY4xzTpf0u_9fPHCecdnAEmHK-62cvRSU6cTpXV_E617dA4O/s640/white%20waiting%20room.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzh4LjsH9f1FR4_scycMqOU5Ycuc26zigY8KnI_NNWjownwmdrXVjbg1whppKl5YdPh5G5x6zjv4SU-pSz-Us_V6-s2oRbB9WjP1kK1vZ5qd-r0xT98nxh0lga3pMkGhlgFeh9ELDofY4xzTpf0u_9fPHCecdnAEmHK-62cvRSU6cTpXV_E617dA4O/w400-h266/white%20waiting%20room.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div> Welcome to the waiting room. The doctor is in and his operations are in process. You may stop hiding under the tables in the back, and as soon as you can pry your hands off the chair in front of you or from around your neighbor's neck, feel free to enter the pre-op room located over here to your right.<br /><br /> Ah, I see you are hesitant. Perhaps you may be wondering what to expect from the doctor’s surgery and your stay here in the hospital. Please, take a moment to study the posters on the walls. They depict the proper function of the human body: the respiratory system, cardiovascular system, nervous system, etc. <br /><br /> A comprehensive book of all these diagrams may be found under the chair in front of you. You may notice a striking resemblance between these diagrams and the doctor, our Master Surgeon, and that's because they are one and the same. In fact, these pictures are of the surgeon's own organs, which also happen to be the only ones in working order. <br /><br /> Upon studying these diagrams, you may be overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness as your own body is far from working order. Have no fear. The Master Surgeon is proficient in diagnostics and reparative surgery, in physical therapy and regenerative growth. There is no disease he cannot cure. There is no mental illness he hasn't seen. There are no missing limbs he hasn't regenerated. Know that if you signed in at the front desk, you will be put to right.<br /><br /> By the way, did you sign in at the front desk? I ask because some people sneak in without doing so and think that simply by being here, they will be cured. Allow me to clarify. This is not the case. You must check in with the front attendant who will enter your name into his appointment book. If you get the uncanny feeling that the front attendant bears a striking resemblance to the Master Surgeon, it is because he is one and the same. <br /><br /> Once your name is entered into his appointment book, your treatment shall commence, even if your condition renders you unable to walk into the operating room. Do not fear. Just call, "Doctor! Doctor!" and the doctor will come to you posthaste. If you are hemophobic, you may close your eyes. If you are afraid of going alone, you may go into surgery in pairs. Husband-wife and friend-friend joint operations are welcome, but make no mistake, the operation will be upon both of you.<br /><br /> Be advised after your initial surgery, patients often feel instantly better and are tempted to think themselves entirely cured. Do not leave the hospital. Your treatment is not complete. The suture on your incisions will not hold for long, and you must undergo your next surgery or end up far worse than before. Return to the waiting room. Follow the doctor's order.<br /><br /> If you are one of those patients who doesn't seem to experience these periods of good operating order in between surgeries, do not be discouraged. The doctor doesn't hate you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. You've been entered into the doctor's fast-track treatment program. Strap yourself in. It's going to be a wild gurney ride. But don't fear. Just hold on and bare your heart to him, and he'll take care of the rest.<br /><br /> You may have noticed our staff walking the aisles with refreshments and snacks, post-op instructions and maps of the hospital. They are not a special class of workers. They're here for treatment too. Do not treat them like the doctor. They are not the doctor. They are here to encourage you to enter treatment by undergoing it first themselves. They hope you'll join hands with them across a gurney perhaps and go in together as friends—nay, family. <br /><br /> Do not, I repeat, do not buy plastic scalpels from your fellow patients. Some like to dress up in scrubs and masks and pretend the diagrams on the walls are of themselves. Do not buy their equipment. Do not try to operate on yourself. Do not try to operate on your neighbor, even if he refuses to go in for his scheduled surgeries and is losing blood at a rapid rate. Even if he turns to you, puts his hands around your throat, and shouts, "Heal me!" Do not attempt to operate. Instead, call in a loud voice, "Doctor! Doctor!" and the doctor will come to your aid.<br /><br /> If you grow impatient with the wait time, disgusted with the overhead music, or horrified by the other patients, feel free to try the waiting room down the hall. However, be warned, that waiting room is just as full of sick people as this one. And while the room decor and volunteer staff may be different, the doctor is the same and so is the procedure. <br /><br /> If after frequenting several waiting rooms, you find none to your satisfaction, do not be tempted to turn the hallways into your own personal abode. Waiting in the hallways often leads patients to believe the two contrary views that they are both sicker than and not as bad as those in the waiting rooms. Such patients often seek help from shamans and become more befuddled than ever before. Therefore, do not linger in the hallways. Do not opt out of your next treatment. Return to a waiting room.<br /><br /> Learn to see your case as just as deadly and just as curable as everyone else's. Make every effort to bear with the other patients who exhibit all manner of unsightly symptoms. Be completely humble and gentle with them. For there is one body, this Hospital of God. There is one Spirit of Health we are seeking to live in us. And there is one Master Surgeon who is over all and in all and working through all to see our healing through to the end for his glory forever and ever. Amen.<br /><br />“How good and pleasant it is <div>when God’s people live together </div><div>in unity [in God’s hospital!]” From Psalm 133:1<div><br /><div>More on Church: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2016/02/church-disrupting-101_2.html">Church Disrupting 101</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/05/sunday-morning-singing.html">Sunday Morning Singing</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2018/04/why-church-was-not-for-me.html">Why Church Was Not For ME</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2015/08/church.html">Granada Heights Friends Church</a></div></div></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-86644049685656059762023-05-12T10:15:00.005-07:002023-05-12T10:15:42.934-07:00Comstock Chronicles: The Broken Fruit Cup<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Had one of those moments where I'm pretty sure that what I'm telling the children is advice I could take to heart too. </span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkWNWmn96wdXyBJFZHJ-4DdawKgToNbfkxvBI1h59n_F9MIWX2YlSXV0WdFQtE_d6kHcBcAAYp4ZAir-9-2f2aTSS_kr2LyQZC6SqzyU8y0fwnTZ-q0yfjb4NiKnEnqfxj7QqreXqJCbRILawQW2SyKBW0DcJaYU30e575EJ1u2MQVGCeNHiE5ksv/s4032/rope%20tag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkWNWmn96wdXyBJFZHJ-4DdawKgToNbfkxvBI1h59n_F9MIWX2YlSXV0WdFQtE_d6kHcBcAAYp4ZAir-9-2f2aTSS_kr2LyQZC6SqzyU8y0fwnTZ-q0yfjb4NiKnEnqfxj7QqreXqJCbRILawQW2SyKBW0DcJaYU30e575EJ1u2MQVGCeNHiE5ksv/s320/rope%20tag.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>They were having a ball outside in the front yard playing rope-tag with Phil. This is like ordinary tag, except that the person who is "it" tries to tag the others with a rope that is tied to one of our house's pilasters. The children had been asking Phil to play this with them all week and now they'd gotten their wish.<p></p><p>While they played, I made fruit salad, served it up in plastic cups, and brought it out on a tray. It was the kind of fruit salad with marshmallows and sour cream and desiccated coconut, definitely a favorite in our house, and last night it was standing-in for dessert. </p><p>The kids snatched their cups and ran back out onto the grass to continue a quasi-game of tag while eating. Before long one kicked the plastic cup out of the other's hand and it broke on the cement. Fruit salad spilled across the concrete. On the verge of tears, the wounded one ran inside while the offender was made to clean up the mess, and was told that she'd need to give the remainder of her own fruit cup to her brother.</p><p>There followed a stony silence after that. The two older children were sulking and pouting elsewhere while our youngest played on our slide as if nothing unpleasant had taken place. Phil finished his fruit cup and said, "Thank you for bringing us this delicious dessert. It's a pity about the shenanigans."</p><p>As I waited to eat my own fruit cup, I considered what Phil had said. It was a shame that their game of rope-tag and the evening in general had to be ruined because of a broken plastic cup. How long would they pout or rage before deciding to make amends and continue on with their evening? This could take awhile. In fact, I decided I wasn't going to wait for them. They needed a shove in the right direction, so I summoned the two waring children and gave them the lecture that I need to take to heart too.</p><p>"There has been an accident," I said. "It is unfortunate. But you can choose right now to make things right with each other and decide who gets what, or you can go sulk in your bedrooms and miss out on desert and more rope-tag with Daddy. You choose. I previously said Rose you have to give your fruit salad to Lee. I take that back. You both can talk it over and decide who gets what. So, do you want to hear each other's sides of the story and then divide the remaining fruit salad? Or do you want to pout and miss out on dessert and games?"</p><p>They wisely decided to sort things out with one another but they wanted to do it in the side yard where no adults could see them, which was fine with the adults. It took less than five minutes for them to sort it out and then they returned to divide the remaining fruit salad and play more rope-tag. And I thought, "Abby, you can do that too."</p><p>When one child comes home from school moaning and groaning about the injustices done, when one kid doesn't want to go on a trip and tries to ruin it for everyone else, when someone forgets to clean up their mess or do their job, I don't need to let it ruin the day or hour or moment. I can choose to sort it out and continue on in the day, or nurse a wound in isolation while waiting for someone else to do something. The better choice is pretty clear.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-58996855389037647492023-05-04T13:15:00.003-07:002023-05-04T13:15:57.341-07:00Middle School Lesson on Gossip(Delivered at Granada Heights Friends Church May 5, 2023 to the Middle School Group.)<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplCGHwXNxQY_1o6-ndIp5flbc4Bss8i9jwv70luqbpYxCUxwsDTHigWRR5soLRW1O54iCD_cnbFUDmBfU0uUzMFaVdJepRCTL89Zm3-4ays2YtGA7yn442HIp1gsT9B2GNmAVFS8lR_2zUsdfK0FWrYnEtaQ9uRXqzFeNWyO2mnH4U9u8xL_nICF0/s1538/IMG_1684.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1538" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplCGHwXNxQY_1o6-ndIp5flbc4Bss8i9jwv70luqbpYxCUxwsDTHigWRR5soLRW1O54iCD_cnbFUDmBfU0uUzMFaVdJepRCTL89Zm3-4ays2YtGA7yn442HIp1gsT9B2GNmAVFS8lR_2zUsdfK0FWrYnEtaQ9uRXqzFeNWyO2mnH4U9u8xL_nICF0/w400-h183/IMG_1684.heic" width="400" /></a></div><div><div><br /><div>QUESTION: What is gossip?<br /><br />QUESTION: Why is it bad? What makes it wrong?<br /><br />Let me give you some examples and you tell me if you think this is gossip or not. Thumbs down is this is no-good, very-bad gossip. Thumbs up if you think this is okay to say.<br /><br /><u>Example 1:</u> Your coach made the whole team run extra laps because some guys were messing around during practice. But it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one talking when he was talking. It was others, but the coach made everyone run. So after practice you’re talking to your friends. “I can't believe the coach made us all run. That was so unfair! I wasn't even talking. You saw me. He’s so oblivious to who’s actually doing the wrong on our team!”<br /><br /><u>Example 2:</u> Your family is having a reunion for your grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary, and it's going to be mainly adults. Your parents are making you go, but you're going to have to miss out on summer camp because of it. You're really bummed. So you tell your friends at school. “I can’t believe I have to miss out on summer camp for some dumb party with a bunch of old people. It’s not fair that my parents are making me go. They don’t care what I care about. They don’t think summer camp is important because they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be 13 and have a life with friends.”<br /><br /><u>Example 3:</u> Your older sibling stands over your shoulder while you’re doing Math homework and tells you what you did wrong. This makes you crazy. It’s true, you did the problem wrong, but you don’t want your sibling's help. And when you tell her to go away, she say, “Sheesh, I’m just trying to help you. But obviously, you’d rather get an F!” So afterwards you tell your mom, “So-and-so is so annoying. They think they’re so much better than me. And they keep trying to tell me what to do. And I hate it! Why can’t they mind their own business?”<br /><br />Here’s a general guideline to know if what you’re saying is gossip or not: Are you telling someone about your troubles to find a solution, to find a way to love that person better, or because you want revenge, you want them to get punished for what they did? You don’t actually like them or want what’s best for them.<br /><br />There are different types of gossip.</div><div><br /></div><div>One type loves to gather and spread information because it makes them feel powerful and important. This is generally a girl thing but not always. We’re not going to talk about that kind of gossip today.<br /><br />Today we’re going to talk about a second kind of gossip, and that’s when you think someone has done something unjust and you’re mad about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>People are going to treat you in ways you think is unfair. This is just a fact of life. And we're in charge of treating those people as God wants us to treat them. But let's look at it from the opposite end first.<br /><br />QUESTION: What do you want others to do if <i>you</i> treat <i>them</i> unfairly? How would you like them to respond? Tell on you? Gossip? Get you back?<br /><br />Let me give you an analogy. When someone does something that you think is not fair—your coach makes you run laps, your sibling is patronizing, your parents make you miss summer camp—, it’s like they throw a brick at you. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ouch. That hurt. Now you have this brick. </div><div><br /></div><div>QUESTION: What are some options of what you could do if someone literally threw a brick at you?</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Throw it back — that's called getting revenge.</li><li>Give it to someone else — That's like gossiping.</li><li>Talk to the brick-thrower and tell them they hurt you — this is very hard to do, because it gives that person an opportunity to hurt you again, but sometimes this helps iron things out.</li><li>Leave it on the floor — this is like pretending you don't care and aren't affected by it, which if you do every time someone hurts you, you'll end up with a big mound of bricks around you and won't be able to move.</li><li>Carry it around — this is called holding a grudge.</li><li>Throw it out the window — this would be like getting your anger our in destructive ways.</li><li>Ask someone what to do with the brick — this is asking advice.</li></ul>In order to not hurt others or yourself with this brick that's been thrown at you, we need to find a better solution. We need to find someone who knows what to do with bricks: a brick layer or brick slayer if you prefer.<br /><br />Let's look up Romans 12:18-20 and read it together.</div><div><br />"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” </div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, that "heaping burning coals on his head" bit, just think of that to mean you'll give him something to think about. <br /><br />QUESTION: Can you always live at peace with everyone?<br /><br />QUESTION: If you get revenge by gossiping, who’s job are you taking?<br /><br />QUESTION: What promise does God give us here?<br /><br />QUESTION: Instead of gossiping to get revenge, what does this passage say we ought to do?<br /><br />When someone throws a brick at you, take that brick and instead of gossiping, give it to God and trust he's going to get revenge for you. Say, “God, so-and-so just threw a brick at me. Would you please get them back for me.” And then believe he’s going to do it <i>in his way</i>.<br /><br />You probably won’t see it. And it’s not going to look like you think it ought to. It won’t look like your coach coming and apologizing to you for making you run. It's not going to look like your parents changing their minds about summer camp or your sibling coming up and saying, "You know you’re really great at Math."</div><div><br />What God’s revenge looks like is a topic for another day. But you don’t know how God does it to trust that he’s going to do it. He’s going to take that brick and transform it into a brick pathway for you to walk upon, and that road is going to take you places. You'll then be able to do what this passage says, to be kind to those who hurt you. You can't be kind to them while you're still holding the brick they threw at you. You've got to give that brick to God first.</div><div><br /><br /><br /><b>Small Group Questions:</b><br /><br />1) Do you hear a lot of gossip at school or at church? Why do you think people gossip?<br /><br />2) How do you deal with people who do something wrong against you? Do you gossip about it?<br /><br />3) How do you think God gets revenge for you if we let him?<br /><br />4) What do you think happens inside mean people when we’re friendly back to them?<br /><br />Reference verses: Romans 12:18-20<br />18 “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. 19 Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord. 20 On the contrary: ‘If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.’”</div></div></div></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-7675099638169924282023-05-02T10:35:00.010-07:002023-08-23T21:30:10.066-07:00Sunday Morning Singing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNyZD8wP6PSPTFmc6i_pIBj8VsxeqT19wRp0Vu_TnDWtUX74FDjNsMLOCgUY-ENpA1YPA4jVE6CqmWSgWo4rR16wvqUwd9BdDn2dOjAZhb5SHQvbRUoPt7qHIVaUnD7YUDLbyNZAPh9LQt4PtOu-z2vKjuBmemGpLOzjibHbi04TB31PYdz7nG3JS/s2464/singing.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="2464" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNyZD8wP6PSPTFmc6i_pIBj8VsxeqT19wRp0Vu_TnDWtUX74FDjNsMLOCgUY-ENpA1YPA4jVE6CqmWSgWo4rR16wvqUwd9BdDn2dOjAZhb5SHQvbRUoPt7qHIVaUnD7YUDLbyNZAPh9LQt4PtOu-z2vKjuBmemGpLOzjibHbi04TB31PYdz7nG3JS/s320/singing.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Sunday morning singing after six days of work:</div><i style="background-color: white; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><div style="outline: none !important; text-align: center;"><i style="outline: none !important;">Holy, Holy, Holy</i>;<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i><i style="outline: none !important;">What a Friend We Have in Jesus;</i></div></i><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">We stand and chorus words we only halfway comprehend</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">with folks we may or may not know, admire, or ignore.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Side by side with them singing <i style="outline: none !important;">His Mercy is More</i> </div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Praying some believe it and receive it with us.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">All of us half-finished, trusting <i style="outline: none !important;">A Mighty Fortress,</i></div><div data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">in practice for the days we live outside these doors.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Monday's back to work: six days of deadlines late,</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">of vexing correspondence and forms that give headache.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Six days of headlines that make our blood run cold.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Murder on the subway. Order unrestored. </div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Come Sunday morning singing after six days of grief.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">O God Our Help in Ages Past </i>are you the God of now?</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Will this <i style="outline: none !important;">Blessed Assurance </i>accept a psalm of doubt?</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">We'll ride upon the faith of those who sing far louder.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Into another week we go, this one is sheer delight:</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">projects done, a bonus check and birthday celebrations,</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Bible reading before bed for six days straight </div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">and the discipline to exercise, petition, and give thanks.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Come Sunday morning, we sit up front and sing loud</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">hoping our volume credits our God's contribution.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Or was it our own doing? <i style="outline: none !important;">Great Are You Lord</i></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Our neighbor refrains, <i style="outline: none !important;">Yet Not I But Christ </i><i style="outline: none !important;">in Me.</i></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></i></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Back to Monday. Six days shake us upside down.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Illness follows words unkind we wish we could unsay.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">We binge watch seedy shows. Our faces from God turned.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Accusing, blaming, shaming mind and passions all awry. </div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">Come Sunday morning singing, we hide in the back,</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">head bowed, heart contrite. <i style="outline: none !important;">Amazing Grace </i>they sing.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">We mouth the words in silence<span style="outline: none !important;"> as members' melody ministers</span></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">to us that <i style="outline: none !important;">Jesus Paid It All </i>and <i style="outline: none !important;">Great is Thy Faithfulness.</i></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">We practice speaking gospel to each other each week</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">like Bedouins in the desert passing 'round the water pail</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">for songs quench parched souls where speech and deeds cannot</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">by dousing God's rhythms into our protesting hearts.</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">There is no magic in rhymes or melodies per se, </div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">but in the repetition, and our obedience to sing</div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">I Surrender All,</i> <i style="outline: none !important;">Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,</i></div><div style="background-color: white; outline: none !important;">God tunes our hearts to sing aloud the other six days.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>More on Church Service: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/06/a-prayer-before-going-to-church.html">A Coward's Prayer</a>, <a href="https://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/03/dear-god-im-praying-please-do-not.html">Dear God, I'm Praying</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/02/acknowledging-giver.html">Acknowledging the Giver</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/08/insincere-prayers.html">Insincere Prayer</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2016/02/church-disrupting-101_2.html">Church Disrupting 101</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-82688305585218058882023-04-28T13:53:00.007-07:002023-06-04T11:05:33.209-07:00Window Washing Baptized<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzasn9QOe01_O3DGQo4Jn5lvQw4QTxZrtffxN53jtReSZ_HzXHGj5obLH32-LvT7CzJqammXf1RWaZkQrdNoksrtFOtD9pl9VoYmrY3npii7s14cQ3IHEAZRkKzGA1-_3-p2Hu7oepe9WpRozJdZXAQ5YsaBYx_Fr5l7gZ4BzAImbFjbp3JuHDKg0J/s3300/stockvault-two-workers-cleaning-a-tall-building-facade286670.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3300" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzasn9QOe01_O3DGQo4Jn5lvQw4QTxZrtffxN53jtReSZ_HzXHGj5obLH32-LvT7CzJqammXf1RWaZkQrdNoksrtFOtD9pl9VoYmrY3npii7s14cQ3IHEAZRkKzGA1-_3-p2Hu7oepe9WpRozJdZXAQ5YsaBYx_Fr5l7gZ4BzAImbFjbp3JuHDKg0J/s320/stockvault-two-workers-cleaning-a-tall-building-facade286670.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">If the shepherd knows him as the gate for the sheep,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the mason knows him as the stone for the corner;</div><div style="text-align: center;">if the baker then learns of that kingdom through yeast,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the farme too learns through the scattering of seeds,</div><div style="text-align: center;">then this writer can know him through poems and rhyme,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and a programer can find him in software and typing.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The preschool attendant in listening to children.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The waiter in service. The doctor in diagnosing.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The carpenter in planing. The pilot in lift. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The mechanic in engines, and the chef in sautéing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And the washer of windows in mere polished panes,</div><div style="text-align: center;">which wink in the sunlight reflective yet sheer,</div><div style="text-align: center;">can find in his trade of water and glass</div><div style="text-align: center;">a reflection of truth unique to his trade</div><div style="text-align: center;">that hints of this God both hidden and near.</div><div style="text-align: center;">All hand occupations and mind cogitations</div><div style="text-align: center;">are tools of intention to unveil the glories</div><div style="text-align: center;">that hand, eye, and ear cannot yet thus hear</div><div style="text-align: center;">without a baptism drenching earth in God signs:</div><div style="text-align: center;">the protractor, printer, paint brush and broom,</div><div style="text-align: center;">the wine press, the garden, the cross, and the tomb.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">More on this topic: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/04/in-praise-of-mending.html">In Praise of Mending</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/02/warriors-remade.html">Warriors Doing Battle</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/psalm-19-electricians-version.html">Psalm 19: The Electrician's Version</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/04/meals.html">Meals</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/11/work-word-in.html">Work the Word In</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-40393973043889827982023-04-27T14:12:00.004-07:002023-04-28T09:22:13.201-07:00Comstock Chronicles: A Bag of Manure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi277YDBd0B94yfdC1DzWLMchbWI1KmRIQsqcv5A0Jz_DAVWqIXo3EK3xFkBt6uxAyWNvWTJB5P8qfVYTluvNebBu7ZZUFFCvkFr-nP76uT3X6dHB8XKm8KKArhIgpiJkBYk_xMTpNXh-bd1mL-nhFpCq7rhaI09cOPv9KNOO5U1MjblwI5UWxMY51b/s529/manure.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="387" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi277YDBd0B94yfdC1DzWLMchbWI1KmRIQsqcv5A0Jz_DAVWqIXo3EK3xFkBt6uxAyWNvWTJB5P8qfVYTluvNebBu7ZZUFFCvkFr-nP76uT3X6dHB8XKm8KKArhIgpiJkBYk_xMTpNXh-bd1mL-nhFpCq7rhaI09cOPv9KNOO5U1MjblwI5UWxMY51b/s320/manure.png" width="234" /></a></div><p>I had just picked up my children from school and was rounding the corner to head back home, when I saw a bag of unopened garden soil sitting on the side of the road. People in Uptown Whittier frequently leave unwanted or free items in their alleys or on their front lawn. I've obtained quite a number of household goods this way. I've found garden pots, kids bicycles, three scooters, two coffee tables, toys, a tire for a tire swing, firewood, decor, baby swing, a box of unopened tampons, etc. </p><p>The side of the road has become a regular shopping stop for me. So when I saw that big bag of manure, I put on the brakes and inspected it. It was a massive 3-cubic-feet of garden soil from Home Depot. The $12 ones that I'd just bought to fill our raised vegetable beds. And here was one for free. Still, I wasn't so sure. The bag was on the curb resting against the side of a planter. No gardeners were nearby. No cars in the driveway. The tidy front yard above the curb didn't look under construction.</p><p>I wanted to be sure it was up for grabs though, so I told the kids to stay in the car, hiked the steep steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell. No one answered. I spotted two cameras trained on me, I knocked several times, but still no one answered. In the meantime, the kids had unbuckled their buckles and were leaning out the windows peering over the top of the car at me and shouting things.</p><p>I decided to throw caution to the wind and roped my two older kids into helping me lift the bulky bag into the back of my car. Done.</p><p>"What if those people wanted this bag?" my daughter asked me on the way home. "What if he finds you and says, 'You stole my bag!'"</p><p>"Then I'll just have to return it to him," I replied. </p><p>"What if the police take you to jail?" my son asked next.</p><p>"They don't take people to jail for bags of manure," I replied.</p><p>At home, Phil loaded the bag onto one of the kid's skateboards to wheel to the backyard. It truly was heavy. I had him place it out back under my potting table where I keep terra cotta saucers and pots and a nearly-empty bag of succulent mix.</p><p>I was feeling very proud of my free bag of manure when I took my kids to school the next day. I was planning what plants I could grow in it, and I asked the Lord to put some free pots on the side of the road next. </p><p>While waiting in the drop off line, I noticed a well-built hispanic man riding his bike around in traffic. He didn't look like a hooligan or a pedophile, but something didn't seem right about him. He kept weaving around cars, riding back and forth. He wasn't there dropping off kids and he didn't seem to be interested in the goings-on at school. </p><p>My older kids leapt out and raced up the school steps, and I turned the corner to return home. However, the bicycle man stopped me. He planted his bike in the middle of the road and motioned to speak to me. I wondered if I had a flat tire, but in any case, I didn't trust him, so I cracked my window just a few inches to hear what he had to say.</p><p>"You took my bag of manure!" he said.</p><p>I blinked at him for a second before recalling what he was talking about. "Oh!" I replied. "Oh, that's not for grabs."</p><p>"That's my bag," he repeated.</p><p>"Yes. I thought it was for free."</p><p>"I want it back. When are you going to get it back me?"</p><p>Traffic behind me began to honk. I was blocking the main exit for the drop off line.</p><p>"I can't lift it into my car alone," I said. "And my husband doesn't get back until after lunch."</p><p>"When will you bring it?" he asked again.</p><p>"I can get it to you after lunch."</p><p>He starred at me, but as horns continued to honk and I took my foot off the brake, he too had to ride off. On the drive home, I considered the matter and decided I didn't want to wait until lunch. I wanted the mistake undone as soon as possible. There was a chance, a slim chance that I might be able to lift the bag into our wagon, and then I could wheel the thing back to his house. Should I bring my pepper-spray, I wondered. Should I take a peace offering? </p><p>I decided no to the pepper-spray, yes to the peace offering. I sawed a cardboard egg carton in half and loaded it up with six fresh brown eggs from our chickens. Lifting the bag was no joke, but I stood on the wagon and lifted with my legs and managed to get the thing loaded. Benny came with me on the walk, first riding the manure and then helping me push the wagon up the primarily uphill streets. </p><p>On the walk, I considered various approaches to the bicycle-manure-man. I considered what an interesting man he must be to have found his garden soil missing, studies his surveillance recordings, discovered what I, my car, and my children looked like, reasoned that my children wen to school around the corner, set his alarm early, and arrived there in time to inspect all the cars until he found me. Extraordinary! He must've really been livid. However, I couldn't imagine him remaining livid after seeing me lugging the wagon up his street in my dress, Wellies, and with my little boy carrying half a carton of brown eggs as a peace offering. Nevertheless, I decided that if he wanted to rant, I would just have to listen with understanding until he was done.</p><p>Thankfully, he was not a ranting lunatic type. He dashed out and lifted the bag from the wagon with ease, assuring me that it was no big deal. He looked the sort of man who thought lifting a bag of this size was no big deal. He was not very tall, but had obviously put some time and effort into his psychic. He proceeded to tell me how that bag had leaked brown juice all over the back of his truck when he'd first picked it up, and how he was rather P.O.ed about the mess. He looked the sort of man who'd be P.O.ed about a mess. The yard and house were very well kept, and the landscaping in the front yard displayed intentionality and taste. An Enneagram 3 perhaps.</p><p>He recognized my efforts to first ask at the door, and validated the fact that he too had left free items on the curbside for others to take. He also relayed how his grandfather's bike had been stolen from the top of his steep driveway not long ago, and his own car was broken into while it was parked in front of his house. </p><p>Such explanations soothed the qualm and we then proceeded to discuss landscaping, rabbits, deer, biking, and the best way to ensure a hard-boiled egg peels properly. Apparently, before boiling it, you tap it on the top with a spoon. He said he eats several eggs a day. I believe he does.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-80256168280670851642023-04-24T10:41:00.007-07:002023-04-25T12:05:01.037-07:00How Rest Exposed the Inner Critic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6LfZdAyEwShx8mJti-3MVi3l7RiuuwhSQZwyl8L8DNe-xSGpJI4QmsxIU3UG2KtZOCrHtQu5gVdGlH4qFsoLzZujQwVVQqU5nTaD-WwloKl0zwfcskV-yDhvPZf9U5-MrOvu2aE0l_Y_LrLw1Z8yCRWp1K9un4zN65bAvaepRJGcGhJf8GYY5hu2/s4032/IMG_8549.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6LfZdAyEwShx8mJti-3MVi3l7RiuuwhSQZwyl8L8DNe-xSGpJI4QmsxIU3UG2KtZOCrHtQu5gVdGlH4qFsoLzZujQwVVQqU5nTaD-WwloKl0zwfcskV-yDhvPZf9U5-MrOvu2aE0l_Y_LrLw1Z8yCRWp1K9un4zN65bAvaepRJGcGhJf8GYY5hu2/w640-h480/IMG_8549.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Three days, two nights on a camping trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuTh3BTY9LIZHLThBACK66c5-hLBoGJuF-1sOFgeVMxPuHZUX3uYq2_DzffzGjL5O_Wxn54LhPzqY0vusG8pf8tMS0prVIGXnCgl689PqKSae2y2fB8nibPzq2cLYAcly3FqvhmKNdY6X_5DwQZM6j36QgLt6m_p225wsVtb6ZrhebTsPEgpW35fq/s4032/IMG_8548.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuTh3BTY9LIZHLThBACK66c5-hLBoGJuF-1sOFgeVMxPuHZUX3uYq2_DzffzGjL5O_Wxn54LhPzqY0vusG8pf8tMS0prVIGXnCgl689PqKSae2y2fB8nibPzq2cLYAcly3FqvhmKNdY6X_5DwQZM6j36QgLt6m_p225wsVtb6ZrhebTsPEgpW35fq/w300-h400/IMG_8548.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div></div>put space between me and my inner critic,<br />that voice that spoils all the good stuff<br />by showing me how it’s never enough. <br /><br />She spoils sleep by saying I should dress.<br />She spoils work by saying it’s not the best.<br />She spoils order by saying it won’t last.<br />She spoils progress by saying it’s a waste.<br /><br />Like a bully blocking the hallways at school,<br />she belittles my efforts and makes me a fool.<br />She mocks my attempts to follow Christ, to be good.<br />She says it’s hopeless to hope that I could.<br /><br />But three days, two nights on a camping trip<br />has put space between me and that inner critic.<br />I see she’s not me. She’s a separate entity<br />exposed through rest as naught in reality.<br /><br />A mixture of rules and laws perhaps,<br />criticisms of teachers and parents in the past<br />a gallon of advert'ments, a dash of advice,<br />Sunday school teachers telling me to be nice.<br /><br />What does it matter? That voice is not me.<br />And that voice isn’t God who loves infinitely.<br />That voice is the old life, the dead one, the skull<br />of the body made alive, and all criticisms null.<br /><br />So back to my house, my work, and my rest,<br />I tell the inner critic that to her I don’t trust<br />an accurate assessment of the new me with Him<br />who made this chasm between me and the old life of sin.<div><br /> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fjmzV3_uFSbpGIqyLfEZyxThzxCbjQ3i_X8GNukxfTkYbiP2etDstshOFr1gi_6cLk1fk2791268nLHjBOV6ZcFeFXt_xs_2Rqr3WryA-YnI9_6x2GefUBePCCosC6j98R0mWWeiEf_SPWNM69YQkM35ZLbM7u1agHlwmRqX-j8u5N_MdrlvAgbb/s4032/IMG_8554.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fjmzV3_uFSbpGIqyLfEZyxThzxCbjQ3i_X8GNukxfTkYbiP2etDstshOFr1gi_6cLk1fk2791268nLHjBOV6ZcFeFXt_xs_2Rqr3WryA-YnI9_6x2GefUBePCCosC6j98R0mWWeiEf_SPWNM69YQkM35ZLbM7u1agHlwmRqX-j8u5N_MdrlvAgbb/w640-h480/IMG_8554.HEIC" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campground sycamore tree was an attraction to the children in the sites on either side of us.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeZJMNHFhOLyitSxCnWmdoqFIMUzj0HozWFJ9isg4mnJituxOxZXBELOQxnycdw9EPz3yhQd_9VsbU2pufguRziPY0VlLZA5PQDNGReRZyya6JOOYlYN4moEV7VNoSdgRDqMyHu32hVQScGt0D_jUNImaQEquRLh_xT96YoB7YU1XXOgYHnfHCHv-/s4032/IMG_8552.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeZJMNHFhOLyitSxCnWmdoqFIMUzj0HozWFJ9isg4mnJituxOxZXBELOQxnycdw9EPz3yhQd_9VsbU2pufguRziPY0VlLZA5PQDNGReRZyya6JOOYlYN4moEV7VNoSdgRDqMyHu32hVQScGt0D_jUNImaQEquRLh_xT96YoB7YU1XXOgYHnfHCHv-/w480-h640/IMG_8552.HEIC" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A seed ball, colorful shell, and quail egg. We cracked open the quail egg and were relieved to find a yolk inside instead of a dead chick.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbAXD10l7VLQ7UV06buvguXldyMVUl4AJ0Wl0hrMfECHjtmCMHcWM8sl8c0zysyPtzCRdQAQJ09emNbhwX8ZSuiafUEUvfTC5T_mGJHpY_Uq_VlujWYYIZlT0yKKATkJI8j3Q_1ph1Ob2iObU_7kCRpBIrDjGOOuvHcj9ir3Z4mAg01cZUCrvg3iO/s4032/IMG_8543.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbAXD10l7VLQ7UV06buvguXldyMVUl4AJ0Wl0hrMfECHjtmCMHcWM8sl8c0zysyPtzCRdQAQJ09emNbhwX8ZSuiafUEUvfTC5T_mGJHpY_Uq_VlujWYYIZlT0yKKATkJI8j3Q_1ph1Ob2iObU_7kCRpBIrDjGOOuvHcj9ir3Z4mAg01cZUCrvg3iO/w640-h480/IMG_8543.HEIC" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of a lookout hike. Benny is in a don't-take-a-picture-of-me phase.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxTTBrXnwqwueUiaVI-u0MsdO-7HS7dTpXJXv8jzmv74j7yko0XCA1ZlJIqoBMRVxc66Po1sDoMTQxrbql4WSm6XeJlRW6ezrAlNKiV46eDDbGNlWwAKImjKmoRlaeHPQeBnDfRUs4LvxO38MnREL-T4NhK9QGxKTXEJomds4DuMnoTWn_z9SEJEe/s4032/IMG_8541.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxTTBrXnwqwueUiaVI-u0MsdO-7HS7dTpXJXv8jzmv74j7yko0XCA1ZlJIqoBMRVxc66Po1sDoMTQxrbql4WSm6XeJlRW6ezrAlNKiV46eDDbGNlWwAKImjKmoRlaeHPQeBnDfRUs4LvxO38MnREL-T4NhK9QGxKTXEJomds4DuMnoTWn_z9SEJEe/w400-h300/IMG_8541.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my sweetie on our morning hike.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>More on rest: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-wages-of-6-days-of-work.html">The Wages of 6 Days</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/03/sabbath-rest.html">Sabbath Rest</a></div></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-25982565831604871152023-04-13T21:03:00.006-07:002023-05-02T13:14:05.369-07:00Dead Plants in the Background<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FMVZmc3sFPh72-hYO6AH_8_rJKGCLgVEV330umHciBk2O9pR1KY8ePY1cQWLI92euJAk6muccoRYJRfxGMHUAs_iDtu0QLRRuW-kKCv85cewPKtyg61jrNIcO7DkeHOd4JIqjysw7c9SEidvy66YNQ2GncSlCh7XhveMlRijl_TtgewpyOdg0cTv/s4032/IMG_8411.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FMVZmc3sFPh72-hYO6AH_8_rJKGCLgVEV330umHciBk2O9pR1KY8ePY1cQWLI92euJAk6muccoRYJRfxGMHUAs_iDtu0QLRRuW-kKCv85cewPKtyg61jrNIcO7DkeHOd4JIqjysw7c9SEidvy66YNQ2GncSlCh7XhveMlRijl_TtgewpyOdg0cTv/w200-h150/IMG_8411.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div>I began to garden in earnest after watching the BBC's Gardener's World. During COVID, the program had viewers send in video tours of their gardens. These tours were a great encouragement to me because they featured everyday people growing very ordinary plants in small spaces.<p></p><p>I recall seeing in the background of one viewer's video tour a potted plant that was dead. That's when I thought, "Hey, I can do that!" And thus my gardening hobby took off. </p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjTU1o76pVtVkLjrHg-niOBZLcZc7AEUrR_P9zMIppfRZo9L1BM4XUC8SGdEqlUMyPSZruPE2kCQy-6ZogtwCMjm-wltAzfVqXXJ8IXXhVk40QTAWQAAqLqf3nr1Y0h2b9O3JdC6rjM8TLWPswnI-guipP8nobYG71tiuI50Yzv9GAeC5ailx9V15/s4032/IMG_8416.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjTU1o76pVtVkLjrHg-niOBZLcZc7AEUrR_P9zMIppfRZo9L1BM4XUC8SGdEqlUMyPSZruPE2kCQy-6ZogtwCMjm-wltAzfVqXXJ8IXXhVk40QTAWQAAqLqf3nr1Y0h2b9O3JdC6rjM8TLWPswnI-guipP8nobYG71tiuI50Yzv9GAeC5ailx9V15/w200-h150/IMG_8416.HEIC" width="200" /></a></p>The dead plant gave me permission to fail, and it's a good thing because I have killed quite a few plants. <p></p><p>Don't you often feels the same when reading the Bible? It's like watching a show about how to live well, and in the background are all these people with dead morals. Sometimes, they're not in the background at all. They're front and center. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU0HBWFTJjwSG3uicOZLzjZ4etmDpi5_DcrcFCGTv8aqdQFdTC3LYRsylg_lCSDII6qBkElA2VtkwmkFGaXVtk6LIejHyaDTWVSpwEKHrsUMOh--C8ZN9XnG0tM9EGGUEaGCkzQyyt8B8hVXOBLnPIcbiTTg2yLN5dOyf7jKk0cFtjKNcy_ZQzI3j/s4032/IMG_8422.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU0HBWFTJjwSG3uicOZLzjZ4etmDpi5_DcrcFCGTv8aqdQFdTC3LYRsylg_lCSDII6qBkElA2VtkwmkFGaXVtk6LIejHyaDTWVSpwEKHrsUMOh--C8ZN9XnG0tM9EGGUEaGCkzQyyt8B8hVXOBLnPIcbiTTg2yLN5dOyf7jKk0cFtjKNcy_ZQzI3j/w200-h150/IMG_8422.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div>It's a comfort to know that it's okay to fail. Perfection is not expected here. We can pursue godliness in earnest now. If God could make something of their morally-dead lives, he can certainly make a thriving garden out of me.<p></p><p></p><div><br /></div><div>More on living a godly life: <a href="https://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/06/relax-this-is-just-practice.html">Relax, This is Just Practice</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/07/winning-county-fair-blue-ribbon.html">Winning the County Fair</a></div><div><br /></div><div>More on Gardening: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/07/gardeners-world-tips.html">Gardener's World Tips</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/volunteer-plants-in-my-garden.html">Volunteer Plants</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-3711863369913880502023-04-13T14:12:00.004-07:002023-05-02T13:20:34.818-07:00Isaiah 44:9-22 The Social Media Version<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoXnh0wTsEaX-r_ktL3lNqUw-dwVk53-iKt0anEwGJK2_rZ3NEztz8ilVKU4tCKWSCDs-GOM5Rh04mO5imfg3ek_vcf9fD_KBYaKFeS-eEnK3BI7XvrmzaoaMD9kb4LJy0oqNGxVMvSmzro1xT3uUPKXu8NYriudSJRPGT8v8vz4rWGz-6nLLeI2t/s300/comp%20head.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoXnh0wTsEaX-r_ktL3lNqUw-dwVk53-iKt0anEwGJK2_rZ3NEztz8ilVKU4tCKWSCDs-GOM5Rh04mO5imfg3ek_vcf9fD_KBYaKFeS-eEnK3BI7XvrmzaoaMD9kb4LJy0oqNGxVMvSmzro1xT3uUPKXu8NYriudSJRPGT8v8vz4rWGz-6nLLeI2t/s1600/comp%20head.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Isaiah 44:9-22 </b>The Social Media Version</div><div><b><br /></b></div><b>9 <span> </span></b>All who live to obtain "likes" and "views" are nothing,<br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>and the things they treasure are worthless.<br /><span> </span><span> </span>Those who live to be entertained are whim-followers;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>they are ignorant of what lasts forever.<br /><b>10 <span> </span></b>Who gathers followers or clicks all the bait<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>that satisfies but an instant?<br /><b>11 <span> </span></b>People who do that will rise and fall;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>such flashes in the pan lose their souls.<br /><span> </span><span> </span>Let them all come together and feed into each other;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>they will create fluff and consume it.<br /><br /><b>12 <span> </span></b>The social-media addict films his ideas<br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>and edits his clips;<br /><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>he shapes a video with special effects,<br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span> </span>he forms it with the creativity of his mind.<br /><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>He grows hungry for praise and ignores his other needs;<br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>he lives to check his status, and grows faint when no one responds.<br /><b>13<span> </span></b>The gamer measures his work day<br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>and makes a time for his entertainment;<br /><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>he gets his duties out of the way <br /> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>and sets his heart's compass toward screens.<br /><span> </span><span> </span>He shapes his soul to want more and more,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>more achievements unlocked, <br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>that it may satisfy his yearnings.<br /><b>14</b> <span> </span>He cuts out socials,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>or perhaps he avoids commitments or chores.<br /><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>He lets RSVP's expire,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>or ignores his family, but his void grows.<br /><b>15 <span> </span></b>He burns up his time;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>some, he uses scrolling and clicking anything he wants,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>he feeds his heart's fire with gasoline.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>But he might also fashion a persona and tempt others to worship it;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>he makes himself an idol for others to bow down to.<br /><b>16 <span> </span></b>Half of his time he burns with scrolling;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>giving in to his appetites,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>he roasts his enemies and consumes all titillations.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>He also soothes himself and says,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>“Ah! Look how many points I got; I accomplished something.”<br /><b>17</b> <span> </span>For the rest of his time, he makes himself a god, an idol;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>he asks others to adore him.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>He prays to them and says,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>“Subscribe! You are my fans!”<br /><b>18 <span> </span></b>They know nothing, they understand nothing;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>and their minds closed so they cannot understand.<br /><b>19 <span> </span></b>No one stops to think,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>no one has the knowledge or understanding to say,<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>“Half my time, I consume other's posts;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I even comment and like their movies,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I contribute to their ratings.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Why shouldn't I receive favorable ratings in return?<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Shall I get back what I give?”<br /><b>20 <span> </span></b>Such a person feeds on ashes; a deluded heart misleads him;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>he cannot save himself, or say,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>“Is not this consuming life a lie?”<br /><br /><b>21 <span> </span></b>“Remember these things, Sons and Daughters of God,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>for you, New Israel, are my children.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I have made you to find contentment in me;<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Israel, I will not leave you this way.<br /><b>22 <span> </span></b>I have swept away your offenses like a reboot,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>your sins like last years viral videos.<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Return to me,<br /> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>for I have redeemed your time.”<div><br /></div><div>More on Gaming: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2016/04/lost-in-games.html">Lost in the Games</a></div><div><br /></div><div>More Bible Rewrites: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/07/psalm-64-hid-me-from-dissatisfied.html">Psalm 64</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/05/finding-rebekah-part-ii.html">Finding Rebekah</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/psalm-19-electricians-version.html">Psalm 19</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/03/proverbs-8-abby-version.html">Proverbs 8</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/10/romans-518-19-in-poetical-form.html">Romans 5:18-19</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/10/romans-512-in-poetical-form.html">Romans 5:12</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2018/12/psalm-69-complaint-of-sick-mom.html">Psalm 69</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2018/11/psalm-66-thanksgiving-for-past-season.html">Psalm 66</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-song-of-abraham.html">The Song of Abraham</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-21881409649440458032023-04-08T11:34:00.009-07:002023-05-02T13:23:50.483-07:00Evolving Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUttUZIHy9l9pHa0wu23RxJlj8bG56fNyfl4zJZSml1XuWAt37AhR99X6rFEE6YdXpIwiNcPWw8KETJD8qUu-DNaENeU1T9CPyMEhRe8JMuzu29jiUYMTa6w3q5hWNKdV93rcN1Of_HjwfxDjZxMl3_VWwywjDiXMDt2ouTJ2YTyntwkLNzgM1Tmc1/s1240/safe-relationship-image.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1240" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUttUZIHy9l9pHa0wu23RxJlj8bG56fNyfl4zJZSml1XuWAt37AhR99X6rFEE6YdXpIwiNcPWw8KETJD8qUu-DNaENeU1T9CPyMEhRe8JMuzu29jiUYMTa6w3q5hWNKdV93rcN1Of_HjwfxDjZxMl3_VWwywjDiXMDt2ouTJ2YTyntwkLNzgM1Tmc1/s320/safe-relationship-image.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>If what's required of me in every relationship can be put on a check list and completed, then I can check off those boxes and no one can say I fell short? I don't need to wonder what to do in each situation, I just look at my list. And if I've fulfilled my roles, I'm good. Right? I win some good living from God.</p><p>If my relationship with my husband can be summarized by respect and submission, then I can cram him into that role, and frame all my actions in that light. I don't need to seek the Lord in all things. I can check off that list and tell God I've done right. I've fulfilled my role. Now, where is my prize?</p><p>If my husband's relationship towards me can be boiled down to a certain shade of love—protecting and providing—then he can consider himself a good husband so long as he works and nothing bad happens to me. He doesn't need to seek the Lord about how he should treat me. He has his checklist. He can say he has done right. Who can hold anything against him?</p><p>If I decide that "good" parents let their children express their emotions and don't give corporal punishments, then I can obey that. I can meet the "good" parents checklist, and if the children turn out bad, that's their doing. I've measured up to my own standard. What can they say against me?</p><p>And if I deem that good friends never assume things about each other and always remember each other's birthdays and a few other considerations like these, I can hold up my rubric to my friends and decide who is a good friend and who is not. I can hold up my rubric to myself and be satisfied with my performance. And if my conscience or friends or spouse points a finger at me, and says, "You did me wrong," I needn't trouble myself with them. I know it's not true.</p><p>But if loving others—spouses, children, friends, and family—isn't a checklist or a role to play, but rather a full-bodied, organic, growing, learning, evolving sort of thing, then we need guidance. We need the Holy Spirit. We need God in us teaching us how to do this for all situations: when a spouse is sick, when a child has down syndrome, when a friend is going through a divorce, when someone is pregnant, when confined to a wheelchair, when we lose a job or our voice or our desire to be good. </p><p>While the Bible gives plenty of wisdom for relationships, if we use any one of these exclusively, we're missing the point. For example if I were to take the description of love in 1 Corinthians 13 as the model for how I ought to love my children, I might not discipline them because 1 Corinthians doesn't mention disciple. Or if I exclusively use the description of parental relationships found in the ten commandments, namely to honor my father and mother, I might never tell them hard truths or, in some cultures, take on a certain vocations.</p><p>All the Bible's descriptions of love give the bones for what only the Holy Spirit can give life to. Loving others is something that grows and evolves as we live and change and grow. Love is something done with God daily through his help and wisdom. And there's no mold that it fits into. It is unique and beautiful and powerful, and that's how it proves genuine.</p><p>More on roles and wisdom: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/10/a-new-form-of-government.html">Discerning What To Do</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/03/proverbs-8-abby-version.html">Proverbs 8</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/03/what-women-are-supposed-to-be-like.html">How Women Ought to Act</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/11/enneagram-1-ruling.html">The Enneagram 1's Magnum Opus</a></p><p><br /></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-74286164325243798232023-04-07T07:39:00.004-07:002023-04-12T08:25:08.607-07:00Why A Holy Man's Death Matters<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7bMI_PNmwW-oEOfPC7z-zXSEEGDfiCj7nV5YgN8V2iab4bwmsa7FYRIq3ywkn2IP3MqNNYoxA6TORQWjp-KQPqKsFqTg6H-RXGsfc9B-55alliQjQNmRdCy6JBJp_BOo5tjivOMJhRqnzd5R4EdxDMCW-Jx3uwuZPYmtiZKJ6idmMUN_KT0L999xy/s283/4868jesusdark.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="250" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7bMI_PNmwW-oEOfPC7z-zXSEEGDfiCj7nV5YgN8V2iab4bwmsa7FYRIq3ywkn2IP3MqNNYoxA6TORQWjp-KQPqKsFqTg6H-RXGsfc9B-55alliQjQNmRdCy6JBJp_BOo5tjivOMJhRqnzd5R4EdxDMCW-Jx3uwuZPYmtiZKJ6idmMUN_KT0L999xy/s1600/4868jesusdark.jpeg" width="250" /></a></div><br /> "This is my body which is given for you," Jesus said as he broke bread at the passover feast. "This is my blood that is poured out for you," and then he passed around the wine cup.<p></p><p>Shortly after that, he died and rose from the grave. Then that holy man remained on earth a little while longer before being taken up into Heaven, or so they say. But what really changed after that? Does any of it really matter? </p><p>After Jesus came and went, babies were still sacrificed to idols; girls turned into prostitutes; spouses abused; boys stolen from their homes and trained to be soldiers; military armies slaughtered across the countryside; human beings moved like puppets. What difference did the sacrifice of a single man make to the world's pain, to my own pain?</p><p>He said he gave his body for us, but does that put food on the table? Will his death save me from contracting a deadly disease or growing old? Will his sacrifice shield me from greedy or angry or controlling human beings? Because if that crucifixion doesn't make my life any easier, why should I trouble my Friday night with the remembrance of that depressing event. People die everyday. <i>I </i>am trying to live. </p><p>And therein lies the rub. Does it not? For if life is only about survival and money and keeping away from unpleasant people, it doesn't matter that anyone is happy or free or courageous. It doesn't matter that our lives mean something or that they achieve anything. We're like the animals trying to replicate ourselves before mother earth turns us into dust again. </p><p>But none of us lives like that. Even the materialist atheist who says he's nothing but matter is trying to make something of his life as if it <i>did</i> matter. Even he knows that if he's not satisfied with his work, it's not worth it. If his sweat and tears achieve nothing, he might as well cease striving and die. And he's right.</p><p>That's why Jesus' broken body and spilt blood means something. It saves us from this survival mentality. It saves us from having to create our own happiness and make up our own meanings for things. It turns our us-versus-them mentality to a God-with-us courage. </p><p>His sacrifice is for anyone who sheds tears and spills their blood trying to stay alive in this world. His crucifixion demonstrated how all our broken bodies and broken hearts are taking us somewhere. </p><p>But all this means nothing to those who've yet to cross over. This is all religious jargon to the one who has yet to give up trying to survive on his own steam. To that man, Christ's death and resurrection indeed means nothing. But there is still time to change all that.</p><p><br /></p><p>More on Christ's Death: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/03/when-king-dies.html">When the King Dies</a></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-79656573850041459372023-04-04T21:15:00.008-07:002023-05-02T13:31:51.479-07:00Comstock Chronicles: Cleaning the Sheets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08PYGimzJ9QD1Kcb0IfrD6ZPWUFteBRKxVCbdRJCkEM0va4Qo5NoJy5JuHZT5vNVNo0kSQXPRcphVMmpB-lbZI-SfO7aGN26A5ayg1qi94Jyw_jVg9DjcqdV4FIHeJjMFGRXnQeYLCDJYFcuSN5QmJ-pe1XYri2pd9C4GrsFfRkGz3qXOI3rFYDk6/s5896/pexels-tim-samuel-6697276.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3931" data-original-width="5896" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08PYGimzJ9QD1Kcb0IfrD6ZPWUFteBRKxVCbdRJCkEM0va4Qo5NoJy5JuHZT5vNVNo0kSQXPRcphVMmpB-lbZI-SfO7aGN26A5ayg1qi94Jyw_jVg9DjcqdV4FIHeJjMFGRXnQeYLCDJYFcuSN5QmJ-pe1XYri2pd9C4GrsFfRkGz3qXOI3rFYDk6/s320/pexels-tim-samuel-6697276.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>It was a tiresome day. Maybe because I woke up at 5:45 to take an exercise walk, and I was still sore from a hike in the hills yesterday. Maybe because it's laundry day and for whatever reason, all that bending and reaching and leaning over makes my back hurt. Maybe because I added an abs workout to my exercise routine, and then, because the abs workout brought me in close contact with the floor, I thoroughly vacuumed the living room carpets and wooden floors, which meant a fair amount of picking up toys and moving around of furniture. After all that, I was physically tired.</p><p>I was also socially and emotionally exhausted because on Tuesdays my youngest doesn't go to school, and today he wanted to tell me something every 5 minutes. "Mommy, look at this," "Mommy, come see this," "Mommy, I want to watch a movie. "Mommy, why can't we watch a movie? "Mommy, when are Lee and Rose coming home?"</p><p>When Lee and Rose did come home, Lee sought to add a little chaos into everyone's lives by provoking Benny, showing off, throwing his blankets around, and sneaking out of his room when I told him to stay. </p><p>Not only this, but I let my daughter bring a friend home, and I think she was trying to impress her friend by ignoring my instructions, back talking, and complaining to her friend how she hates it when I wash her sheets because I throw all her blankets and stuffed animals on the floor.</p><p>At 8pm, already in my pajamas and ready to call it quits, I flopped exhausted onto my bed. </p><p>"I feel like I got beat up today," I told Phil. </p><p>I don't know how God does it everyday all day long for eternity. I don't know how he handles everyone crying his name in every country every millisecond. I don't know how he handles people adding chaos to his ordered world—antagonizing one another, showing off, using their possessions to befuddle others, and not staying where he puts them. And I don't know how he handles our attitudes, especially when we complain about how messy he makes our lives while cleaning up our hearts.</p><p>God must have an infinite supply of patience. Either that or, by some miracle, he's found a way to still love us despite the grief we cause him. </p><p>I suppose it's both. Right? God has found a way to love us despite the grief we've caused him, and because of this, he can have patience with us. He did it by being made a man and taking upon himself the wrath of God, which would've otherwise interfered with our relationship. It's through this miracle that he can love us deeply and dearly and intimately. He can delight in us and converse with us without our crimes getting in the way because the crimes have been paid for.</p><p>No matter what we do, he'll remain our Heavenly father. And he won't give up growing and cleansing our hearts no matter how messy it seems to make our lives.</p><p>As for my children, they just needed a good spanking to pay for their own crimes.</p><p><br /></p><p>More lessons in parenting: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/05/ghfc-mothers-day-testimony.html">Mother's Day Testimony</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/07/when-people-i-love-fight.html">When the People I Love Fight</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/02/phases.html">It's Just a Phase</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/12/just-say-thank-you.html">Just Say Thank You</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/08/comstock-chronicles-ministry.html">Ministry</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/07/a-lesson-on-revenge-for-kids.html">A Kids Lesson on Revenge</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/people-not-moving-fast-enough.html">People Not Moving Fast Enough</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/06/bid-for-intimacy.html">Bid For Intimacy</a></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-84971595982081951602023-04-04T09:46:00.004-07:002023-05-02T13:35:57.406-07:00How Following Jesus Doesn't Overload the Schedule<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3W2UBZjDcooO96sRnGiI7KKtt-gVl9gZkQVCyDrmQnY0LBMce_UQoD6TnPW9E0JquTvI3zjujSCTrJUwYInXmDNi6TFh72FOnwL3ImVbwsRCl5DMCZZRnOIqIsz2JlAC-lLgC2I1JyRSKhLXr9USAXCoh9dL8o_2BR2CidA8n5jVU5QMx1WKJzFfD/s775/PinClipart.com_business-clip-art_5203170.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="775" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3W2UBZjDcooO96sRnGiI7KKtt-gVl9gZkQVCyDrmQnY0LBMce_UQoD6TnPW9E0JquTvI3zjujSCTrJUwYInXmDNi6TFh72FOnwL3ImVbwsRCl5DMCZZRnOIqIsz2JlAC-lLgC2I1JyRSKhLXr9USAXCoh9dL8o_2BR2CidA8n5jVU5QMx1WKJzFfD/s320/PinClipart.com_business-clip-art_5203170.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Following Jesus doesn't necessarily mean adding more things to your already busy schedule. It's not like a hobby that you squeeze in somewhere. It's also not like an 8-5 job that takes up most of your day. Nor do I think it's like maintaining a relationship with aged parents or trying to iron out a strained relationship or even keeping up an enjoyable long-distance relationship. Although, don't get me wrong. Following Jesus is a relationship and it is a job. It's just not separate from all your other relationships or jobs. It happens simultaneously, in the midst of all the other things you do.</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yes, followers of Jesus take time to read the Bible and talk to God. But, that Bible-reading and God-talking colors all our ordinary day-to-day things. It teaches us to do our ordinary things with a different mindset and heart-set and body-set. It's like a God-code for deciphering life. We get our code from our God-talking and Bible-reading, and then we hold up our code to every circumstance to see what it means to God. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Or it's like a daily increase of muscles and brain capacity and sensing power that makes everything we do easier. We're able to lift things we once couldn't. We're able to figure out difficult problems that used to overwhelm us. And we're able to sense undercurrents in people and situations that we'd previously been oblivious to. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yes, following Jesus adds something to our lives. It makes everything easier. It gives us God-tools to use in our mourning routines, in our commutes and our emails and fixing meals and bills and meetings and run-ins with children or parents or spouses. Now we have abilities above and beyond what we ever thought we could have. And this can make even overloaded schedules manageable.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">More on Simplifying Life: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-wages-of-6-days-of-work.html">The Wages of 6 Days of Work</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-years-dissillusions.html">New Year's Disillusions</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/01/gods-new-years-resolutions.html">God's New Year's Resolutions</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/04/in-praise-of-mending.html">In Praise of Mending</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/08/you-dont-have-to-do-that-anymore.html">You Don't Have to Do That Anymore</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-30899505360501117362023-03-28T10:43:00.009-07:002023-03-28T15:47:38.490-07:00Comstock Chronicles: Birthday Shenanigans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8DA6yIChAm_vjnDnUFiyRlFGPRG1en-iT-lzjDCzfWmJEeELHfeST0aLDjFJ1UXa9nfNgHhqFYua7I4gY1hed8pFZtcQymSl-MrXNxNz3TgkMi5iHY1qtF6MrJmM2m-5OPJD6sqIRaBXk5KfBPmNqSHSkm3yRDnvt5yP9KiJrkgeacyJyQ29phFb/s4032/IMG_8232.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8DA6yIChAm_vjnDnUFiyRlFGPRG1en-iT-lzjDCzfWmJEeELHfeST0aLDjFJ1UXa9nfNgHhqFYua7I4gY1hed8pFZtcQymSl-MrXNxNz3TgkMi5iHY1qtF6MrJmM2m-5OPJD6sqIRaBXk5KfBPmNqSHSkm3yRDnvt5yP9KiJrkgeacyJyQ29phFb/w400-h300/IMG_8232.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><p>We celebrated Lee's Birthday with a family party on Sunday, but his actual birthday was yesterday, Monday. What to do? What to do? It was a big blank day with nothing planned. The big kids were off on spring break, but Benny still had preschool. And since I didn't have anything particularly planned for the day, I decided to send Benny to school. This was not agreeable to him. </p><p>He threw himself onto the floor and wept because of the unfairness of life. He wouldn't get dressed. He wouldn't put on his shoes. He wouldn't walk to the car. His siblings couldn't stand the ruckus, and they truly did feel sorry for him. </p><p>Rose hastily cut out colorful paper hearts. Then, she had each family member kiss a heart before she slipped them into Benny's jacket pocket. "Now when you're at school," she told him, "you can take out a kiss and remember us." She borrowed this idea from a book called <i>A Pocket Full of Kisses</i> by Angela McAllister. I praised her highly for this idea and tried to ignore the high-pitched pedantic voice she used when explaining this to Benny. I can't stand patronization.</p><p>The morning passed with some difficulty. Rose thereafter began looking for treats and attentions in the wake of all the attention and presents Lee was receiving. She wanted a friend over. She wanted me to plan something for her special. She wanted to paint with me. She wanted to Facetime a friend. I allowed her this and thanked the Lord when her little friend reminded Rose how Lee felt when Rose celebrated her own birthday two months prior. Hallelujah, I'm not the sole deliverer of truth to that girl!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG8Jz6Dqcaof6hYPGahGYtFhb9CUMXRtszzCX0dBJCPdRZVCZTM5QERKexgAgQmtz7xHOEnJkU3rYsBgmkAzUvHE1V8KNhp9GLRlsw9XmafwVG5ht-Py2EuRvGXbAmDRjChpLeGhJfhGa5819lazfwdixH2VPCb6T1BBRek7ralw0kCDMQib1mrg7/s3088/IMG_8253.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG8Jz6Dqcaof6hYPGahGYtFhb9CUMXRtszzCX0dBJCPdRZVCZTM5QERKexgAgQmtz7xHOEnJkU3rYsBgmkAzUvHE1V8KNhp9GLRlsw9XmafwVG5ht-Py2EuRvGXbAmDRjChpLeGhJfhGa5819lazfwdixH2VPCb6T1BBRek7ralw0kCDMQib1mrg7/s320/IMG_8253.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>In the meantime, Lee practiced some magic tricks from his new magician's set that his cousins gave him. The tricks primarily rely on objects and not slights of hand, which is good for an eleven-year-old. Lee was eager to demonstrate the tricks to his family and even more eager to divulge his secrets the second we were fooled. "This is how I did it!" he'd exclaim with a big smile on his face. </p><p>After we picked up Benny from school, I drove the kids over to an Asian shopping center in Buena Park. I figured we'd grab us some dumplings, see the live sea creatures at H-Mart, and give Lee a chance to use his birthday cash at Daiso, a sort of 99¢ store there.</p><p>We were the only white people at the Asian noodle restaurant, and I was the only one with children. I felt like a fish in a fish tank being observed by people who may or may not eat me. While there, each child had to use the restroom. Rose wanted to show Lee the bathroom's cool sink. And Benny had to go as well, but not at the same moment as everyone else. </p><p>When the food came, the children's hands shot out to grab the best for themselves, and I had to bark them back until we prayed and I distributed the food fairly, or rather, not fairly because Lee got more chicken wings than everyone else. No one, but Benny, wanted the noodles because we discovered tentacles in them. As we exited the restaurant, the cashier hollered something at me. I couldn't understand what she was saying until everyone's eyes were fixated on us and I realized I was supposed to clear our place.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjo45ItRDgGqEO6GFvBOxUCRqdWecHRkB375KsQE94Gq64b8HAUa7IL0BLJ7vuRUFkrdY57b3BGBPKy0z10WsDuA4fpn-JnYoKo0hfn70Fn56aT20lbztclvQRp3SelGwyhM7wzFhTvkxk9n2DlG4G5lQaXaaZXZyoJO6bHEEbWOrg1nUVH-qQEHG/s4032/IMG_8251.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjo45ItRDgGqEO6GFvBOxUCRqdWecHRkB375KsQE94Gq64b8HAUa7IL0BLJ7vuRUFkrdY57b3BGBPKy0z10WsDuA4fpn-JnYoKo0hfn70Fn56aT20lbztclvQRp3SelGwyhM7wzFhTvkxk9n2DlG4G5lQaXaaZXZyoJO6bHEEbWOrg1nUVH-qQEHG/w640-h480/IMG_8251.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>H-Mart was quite cold. The children pulled their arms into their shirts and walked around with their hands sticking out of their arm holes. They meandered from stall to stall and I had to continually remind them that I was the leader of this outfit. Maybe I was just reminding myself. <p></p><p>At the seafood counter, they oohed and awed over the crustaceans. They even poked the shrimp's antennae. We found a quart of Rocky Road Häagen-Daz Ice Cream in the frozen food section, and were in the check out line when Lee spontaneously decided he wanted to use his birthday money to buy his siblings a treat. He scanned the candy selection recognizing nothing and eventually snatching some chocolate bars called Melty-Kisses.</p><p>Rose and Benny lauded Lee's generosity and they tucked into the chocolate bars with gusto until its taste changed their opinions. It was dark chocolate with orange peel and cassis liqueur. Even I didn't care for the taste. I peered at the children to see how they were taking it and worried that they'd forget Lee's generosity. Had they developed a sense of graciousness yet?</p><p>Benny began to cry and beg for water as he stuck out his tongue and grimaced. Rose used the chocolate bar as lipstick. And Lee decided to throw his away. Thankfully, we had the Häagen-Daz to cover the offense. I, however, had no spoon. I began looking into various restaurant windows to see if any had a napkin/condiment bar with plastic utensils. None seemed to, so I gathered my courage to just ask someone. The woman was not happy. She pointed at my take-out leftovers and said, "You did not order food here. You go ask where you get food." But she handed me a spoon none-the-less. </p><p>Outside in the sunlight, I spoon fed my three children, certain that any minute the weak plastic spoon would snap in the hard ice-cream. It didn't. And the shopping trip to Daiso took place without incident, unless you count Benny walking square into a pole outside the store and causing the outdoor diners to gasp audibly at the incident. Benny's head erupted in a goose-egg. And both younger children were upset that Lee got to buy things and they didn't. He choose three transformers and a toy AK-47 that tapped and rattled when the trigger was pushed. I quickly put the kibosh on firing that thing in the car and I turned the music up loud all the way home.</p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-35312260781344329572023-03-23T15:21:00.019-07:002023-05-02T13:40:23.508-07:00When the King Dies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRyuB9C-kRNkyBumbKkyzQCHSvTm9rxh0GM5ZIJZn_xO-9uxKpilCCSDBzXQ7DKbIXMYiyYjoKGOFjAnoWEzSoAdfk8XJ3Oc6mBwipa6uO_SCYrBrtaeeVs3sZBCJ612nZSo8t-5l6DhG8-nvbR50c0Dab92klME3YKw8iuvQUMwstKgfRencRgE7/s503/battle.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="503" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRyuB9C-kRNkyBumbKkyzQCHSvTm9rxh0GM5ZIJZn_xO-9uxKpilCCSDBzXQ7DKbIXMYiyYjoKGOFjAnoWEzSoAdfk8XJ3Oc6mBwipa6uO_SCYrBrtaeeVs3sZBCJ612nZSo8t-5l6DhG8-nvbR50c0Dab92klME3YKw8iuvQUMwstKgfRencRgE7/w400-h229/battle.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p>More often than naught, when a commander or king falls in battle, the courage of his troops falters, and the battle is lost. </p><p>For example, when the Israelites heard that King Saul and his sons had died fighting the Philistines in 1010 B.C., they fled their cities, and the Philistines moved in to occupy them.</p><p>In the Muslim's conquest of Persia in 636 A.D., the Muslim army held out for three days against a Persian army twice their size, until on the fourth day, the Persian general was killed. Then, numbers didn't matter. The Persian army collapsed, and the Muslims surged forward, completing their conquest of the Persian Empire. </p><p>At the end of the Hundred Years' War, and after taking the French town of Bordeaux, the English commander was then killed in a fool-hardy charge against cannons. And with the death of their commander, the English retreated while the French advanced and recaptured their town, Bordeaux.</p><p>In the Polish-Lithuanian Teutonic War of 1409, the Grand Master was killed outside Grunwald, and his remaining Teutonic knights retreated and were defeated.</p><p>I could go on. Throughout history, when the king or general or emperor falls dead or flees or is captured, the courage of his army fails. His campaign comes to an end. The territory is lost.</p><p>But not so, in the Kingdom of Heaven.</p><p>In God's kingdom, the king's death became the means to victory. Christ's death turned everything on its head because three days later, instead of his empire collapsing as all empires have and will, Christ's empire burst into life, first with Jesus' resurrection and then into the hearts of his followers to spread his kingdom across the world like wildfire.</p><p>The death of Heaven's king didn't stop God's invasion of earth, but rather settled the outstanding tribute that we all owe God but refuse to pay. The death of Heaven's king meant that finally, the first ever total surrender of one's own human life was performed for God. Make no mistake, Jesus could've and had every right to invade and forcefully seize our rebel hearts, but he chose to do so by giving up his own life in place of ours. </p><p>Now, a new reign has begun, not dominated by kings and masters and money, but the spirit of God ruling in ex-rebel hearts. This spirit unites under one banner people of waring countries. This spirit empowers kings to wash their vassal's feet. It makes the least the greatest, and the poor, rich. Slaves and masters work side by side. And men and women are co-heirs with the Son of God, joining in his conquest of the world.</p><p>This seemingly upside-down reorganization of power has transformed weaknesses into strengths. So that now, the most powerful act of human will that we can offer our king, the mightiest flex of our power is to surrender into his hands all we think is ours. And in our emptiness, his fullness then grows.</p><p><br /></p><p>More on Christ's Work on the Cross: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/08/the-gospel-for-every-enneagram-ghfc.html">The Gospel for Every Enneagram</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/04/why-holy-mans-death-matters.html">A Holy Man's Death</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/07/breaking-bad-religion.html">Clarifying Some Christian Phrases</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/07/afraid-of-messing-up.html">Can't Mess This Up</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2019/08/everyones-painted-red_15.html">Everyone's Painted Red</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/02/believing-store-owner.html">Believing the Store Owner</a></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-20264668931525443732023-03-22T16:06:00.003-07:002023-05-02T13:44:43.837-07:00How Women Should Act<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYfT2AtpgvVbOjmyi436L8fjVPQ9RJFCQfHHE0ZJYTzz8C_u_7KzKXrTbn5-boJV3DPyXpGR9HLRfjeXCKyLqQpGMEMszD2yA8NLEEP4r0CjeQK95_1QPSihsuwI0KNP_YrLTgqOSOEck9itxlqRul4MpKkRc_ou07T93uApB6dqW4HTWR1wx62fe/s1600/bravewomenbanner.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYfT2AtpgvVbOjmyi436L8fjVPQ9RJFCQfHHE0ZJYTzz8C_u_7KzKXrTbn5-boJV3DPyXpGR9HLRfjeXCKyLqQpGMEMszD2yA8NLEEP4r0CjeQK95_1QPSihsuwI0KNP_YrLTgqOSOEck9itxlqRul4MpKkRc_ou07T93uApB6dqW4HTWR1wx62fe/s320/bravewomenbanner.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I don't know what you've heard about women, the ways that people try to define you, typify you, explain you, exalt you, venerate you, control or dissimilate from you. </p><p>I don't know what molds have been drawn up around you, hitting you in the shins, battering you in the heart, mocking you in the mind, never fully containing you, never fully letting you breath Spirit breathe, but trying ever so hard to keep you from growing.</p><p>I don't know what sort of mother or grandmother was modeled for you, imprinting onto your mind what it means to be feminine, to be a mother, to be a woman. I don't know what words echo in your mind of what's masculine and thus off limits to you. I don't know what roles you've been told you may or may not play.</p><p>But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that those walls no longer have power over you, Daughter of God, for when you follow in Christ's footsteps, all the molds break and stereotypes become obsolete. Now, no one can say what you will or will not become, what you can or cannot do but God himself.</p><p>You are a fellow heir with Christ, given that same work that God gave Christ the authority to do. Yes, even given the promise to do greater things, to tread on serpents, to have authority over the spirits, and to rule as God originally intended us to rule.</p><p>You are no longer a slave to fear or hiding your God-given strengths. All the walls that have confined you have been demolished in the wake of following Christ. For unlike conforming to Rock Stars and Sports Athletes, which generates duplicates and look a-likes, conformity to Christ creates more and more unique humans, able to do more and more, shining brightly with more and more of Christ's glory.</p><p>A women pilot receiving special permission to fly into a man-dominated Muslim Sudan. The Chinese authorities calling upon a single woman to quell a Chinese prison riot. A Japanese prison camp general asking the advice of one of his woman inmates in how to best solve his problem. Crowds of Chinese men gather to hear about Christ from a Southern Baptist belle. A woman doctor in India allowed to go where no men were allowed. The courage of a woman standing up against rioters to protect her orphan children. The people of a nation coming to a woman who serves as their judge and prophetess. The finances of women supporting Jesus in his ministry. </p><p>All the stereotypes broken in this upside-down kingdom where the master washes his servant's feet, and the lowliest are brought up as co-heirs with Christ.</p><p><br /></p><p>More on Pigeon Holing: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/02/how-christianity-and-enneagram-go.html">Christianity and the Enneagram</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/08/the-gospel-for-every-enneagram-ghfc.html">The Gospel for Every Enneagram Number</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/04/evolving-love.html">Evolving Love</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2018/02/to-intellectual.html">To the Intellectual</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/08/you-dont-have-to-do-that-anymore.html">You Don't Have To Do That Anymore</a></p><p><br /></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-75446045423177966912023-03-08T10:00:00.004-08:002023-05-06T10:44:26.738-07:00Recognizing the Voice of the Holy Spirit (Middle School Lesson)(As Taught to the Middle School Group at Granada Heights Friends Church in March 2023)<br /><br />This week we’re going to talk about how to hear the Holy Spirit. How can we tell if the feelings or voices inside us are the Holy Spirit or something else? <br /><br />Remember a couple weeks ago I used the drone to represent how the Holy Spirit moves us towards God spiritually? (<a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/02/lesson-on-holy-spirit-for-middle.html">Who is the Holy Spirit Lesson</a>) <div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>We had a volunteer represent the Holy Spirit and she moved her hands around a drone to move it towards the youth pastor, who represented God. </li><li>In that example you all sat on your hands. Only my volunteer influenced the drone’s movements.</li></ul><div>However in real life, we have more influences acting upon us than the Holy Spirit. We also have:</div><div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>The world (T.V., friend’s opinions, books we read, social media)</li><li>Our old sinful ways (bad habits, our own strength used to survive and cope)</li><li>And the devil trying to influence us</li></ol>So we need to be able to pick out the Holy Spirit’s voice amidst these other voices.Let’s look up a verse that’ll help us out. Let’s have a sword drill. Who can find the verses first? (1 John 4:1-4)<br /><blockquote>“1 Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world. 2 By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, 3 and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you heard was coming and now is in the world already. 4 Little children, you are from God and have overcome them, for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.”</blockquote><b>QUESTION: </b>Why shouldn’t we believe every spirit or voice we hear in our head?<br /><b>QUESTION: </b>What’s the test to know if a spirit is for God or against God?<br /><b>QUESTION: </b>When does this passage say we will overcome these antichrist spirits?<br /><b>QUESTION: </b>Which spirits are more powerful: God’s spirit or the spirits against God?<br /><br />In order to tell what kind of guidance you’re sensing inside you, let’s make two lists of what kind of things each of these voices say:<br /><br /><b>1. ANTICHRIST SPIRITS — </b><u>Denies Christ</u>: Jesus isn’t enough:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>You have to do more yourself. You have to make yourself pleasing to God.</li><li>God only helps those who help themselves</li><li>Jesus can’t relate to you. He didn’t experience exactly what you’re experiencing. He was God.</li></ul><div style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="font-weight: 400;"><b>1. CHRIST’S SPIRIT — </b><u>Confirms Jesus</u> did it all:</div><div style="font-weight: 400;"><ul><li>You can’t make yourself any better than what Jesus has already made you.</li><li>Relax, God is pleased with you</li><li>Jesus understands everything you’re going through because he was a man on earth and he was tempted just like you.</li></ul></div></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><b>2. ANTICHRIST SPIRITS —</b><span style="font-weight: 400;"> <u>Speaks Lies</u> about yourself and God:</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-weight: 400;">You aren’t good enough. No one could love you. You aren’t worth it. God doesn’t want you. </span></li><li><span style="font-weight: 400;">God can’t protect you. It’s not going to be okay.</span></li><li><span style="font-weight: 400;"> God is mad at you. </span></li></ul></div><div><b style="font-weight: bold;">2. CHRIST’S SPIRIT —</b> <u>Speaks Biblical Truths:</u> </div><div><ul><li>Jesus has made you presentable to God. </li><li>God isn’t mad at you anymore. </li><li>You’re worth saving. He loves you.</li></ul></div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><b>3. ANTICHRIST SPIRITS — </b><span style="font-weight: 400;"><u>Hides & Denies</u>:</span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-weight: 400;">I’m fine. </span>I don’t need help. </li><li style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Nothing is wrong. </span></li><li style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Don’t tell anyone what you’re done. (Give examples of wanting to hide what you've done)</span></li></ul><div><b>3. CHRIST’S SPIRIT — </b><u>Exposes & Confesses</u>:</div><div><ul><li>Not afraid to say what’s going on inside or to say that something is wrong inside of us.</li><li>Confident in God's forgiveness and that we're not defined by our sin.</li></ul><div><div>That’s one big difference between Christians and Non-Christians: Non-Christians pretend that they’re handling life just fine. They don’t need help. They have it all together. Christians know that they’ve got big issues in their hearts and they need God’s help to fix them.<br /><br />EXAMPLE: When you’re with your friends or people at school, and they do something that you feel is wrong, have you ever got this burning feeling inside telling you something is wrong or to say something or get out of there like Joseph did in the Bible when Potifar’s wife was hitting on him? </div><div><ul><li>Listen to that voice inside you. That's the Lord warning/teaching/leading you. </li><li>Sometimes, the activity in taboo is something your family doesn't do, but other families do. It's not wrong for those other people, but it feels wrong to you: saying certain words, watching certain shows, or scary movies. You don't have to tell everyone they're wrong, but you do need to do what you think is right.</li></ul></div></div></div><div><b>4. ANTICHRIST SPIRITS — </b>Makes you <u>afraid, angry, & a slave</u> to things:</div></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> You have to do this thing again and again and again.</li></ul><b>4. CHRIST’S SPIRIT — </b>Gives <u>courage, love, and freedom</u>:</div><div><br /></div><div><div>EXAMPLE: Sometimes the Holy Spirit tells us to actively do something.<br /><br />Jacob Deshazer was part of what was known as the Dolittle Raiders during WWII, which was the bombing mission sent to Japan from America in retaliation for the Pearl Harbor. The mission was a success, but Jacob and his team had to bail out over China where he was captured and became a prisoner of war. </div><div><br /></div><div>While in prison, one of the atomic bombs was dropped on Japan. Jacob was entirely unaware this was happening. He woke up impressed by the Holy Spirit that he needed to pray for the Japanese leaders to surrender and seek peace. He prayed all morning and through lunchtime until 2 pm when he felt the Lord was saying, “Okay, you can stop now. You don’t need to pray anymore. Victory is won.” Four days later, the Japanese Emperor made a proclamation over their radio that they were going to surrender.</div><div><br />Have you ever been around someone and sensed that something was wrong with them? </div><div><ul><li>When you suddenly get an impression of trouble or someone who is hurting or people in need, this is probably God’s Spirit asking you to do something for them. </li><li>Start by praying. Your prayers will be part of God’s most powerful work here on earth.</li><li>Then listen. Does God want you do to something else?</li></ul></div></div><div><b>5. ANTICHRIST SPIRITS — </b><u>Consumes and shrinks:</u> </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>People often think the sinner’s life is more fun because you can do whatever you want: watch whatever you want, think whatever, take whatever. </li><li>It seems like the Sin Life has more freedom and options while the Christ life seems straight and narrow and boring. It's like this:</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWo33k9GTY3-vLbFFpjDm4yCdCSO1rwpcbBRkrG5Kzd5zeS_HBu30WOEewG8PmWQYBqy5IVW2QBn3Hg8UbLjbEUFG7WjVZ1Yxv-q0p5AfW1c1exRKlP8QRRHc9oAqdkfwijEB2ND5X8hOkPEJ2qvnJw3EtiDg8A5kOhyQrbQD9SSDLStR1N06j0cCd/s3448/overview.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2718" data-original-width="3448" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWo33k9GTY3-vLbFFpjDm4yCdCSO1rwpcbBRkrG5Kzd5zeS_HBu30WOEewG8PmWQYBqy5IVW2QBn3Hg8UbLjbEUFG7WjVZ1Yxv-q0p5AfW1c1exRKlP8QRRHc9oAqdkfwijEB2ND5X8hOkPEJ2qvnJw3EtiDg8A5kOhyQrbQD9SSDLStR1N06j0cCd/s320/overview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>However, the truth is the Sin Life's options all lead to the same place. They all lead to selfishness.</li><li>The more you follow your own way, the smaller your life gets. You're interested in fewer things, care about fewer people, unable to do as much physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. You find it harder and hard to be with certain people and you have fewer friends.</li><li>Ultimately, the Sin Life leads to Hell.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5_9jnhzOrBJk2RkxbSoJ_VvZ9HbSqvDT-QV4F8FRdbiw7CYv8fL_pvzuQQYCPdCOHwDAyPabNRlWBRxCcYX2cTQa8ghlKf-lqd3QwzxJYKU0izrTzX__Wot5vDj8LjTAxVTY-q85-Y0aEnZTh1zL611g1oTC6Hk2JyT9dbKRD7AUnO2KeOnCbauP/s3548/sin%20life.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2191" data-original-width="3548" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5_9jnhzOrBJk2RkxbSoJ_VvZ9HbSqvDT-QV4F8FRdbiw7CYv8fL_pvzuQQYCPdCOHwDAyPabNRlWBRxCcYX2cTQa8ghlKf-lqd3QwzxJYKU0izrTzX__Wot5vDj8LjTAxVTY-q85-Y0aEnZTh1zL611g1oTC6Hk2JyT9dbKRD7AUnO2KeOnCbauP/s320/sin%20life.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><b>5. </b>But the Christ life lead by <b>CHRIST’S SPIRIT —</b> <u>Grows and multiplies: </u></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>When we give up our own selfish desires and whims and wants, when we trust Christ who is the straight and narrow path, our lives increase.</li><li>We enjoy more and more hobbies and sports and music. </li><li>We like more and more people. We're able to do harder and harder things.</li><li>We're interested in more things and can invent and create without fear.</li><li>It's like this:</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO8FKV7jtRx7c3CbEYXkcakeNbdSDxsuKEcqN01hLEDP49WS3kLyXbUFyoH9Yq_tHEoHWXh87EtA26Dz9mJXjz4MHSvrzgBLEGtIzMHTfFdHSmqW3dUIh0hTWah-LFaCMP4O4w2sQDsrkKesoWAv-KPm3e1LGXshKveG40f3NYhmEHJBHA-zfJuMW/s3441/Christ%20life.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2170" data-original-width="3441" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO8FKV7jtRx7c3CbEYXkcakeNbdSDxsuKEcqN01hLEDP49WS3kLyXbUFyoH9Yq_tHEoHWXh87EtA26Dz9mJXjz4MHSvrzgBLEGtIzMHTfFdHSmqW3dUIh0hTWah-LFaCMP4O4w2sQDsrkKesoWAv-KPm3e1LGXshKveG40f3NYhmEHJBHA-zfJuMW/s320/Christ%20life.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Small Group Questions:<br /><br />1. What kind of things do spirits against Christ say to you?<br />2. What kind of things does Christ’s Spirit say to you?<br />3. Have you ever thought the Holy Spirit was telling you to do or don’t do something? What was it?<br />4. What do you usually do when you’re with people who are doing something wrong?<br />5. What do you think the Holy Spirit wants you to do in these cases next time? </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>More Middle School Lessons: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/06/the-gospel-for-middle-schoolers.html">The Gospel for Middle School Students</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/02/lesson-on-holy-spirit-for-middle.html">Holy Spirit Lesson</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/05/middle-school-lesson-on-gossip.html">Middle School Lesson on Gossip</a></div>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9073243834244843963.post-52095260691966497112023-02-20T17:43:00.006-08:002023-05-02T13:46:42.155-07:00It's Just a Phase<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuNSQ2SDb6lwFpkwVRASlP0RWnRDxXUvE6Ocph-sc_KuhVnqjYF3xJYXjvsNhmww1baBpmgCcMKuMqFIyio6fyOELzt55rYn4evkUTZWFICEFgkMxlu0DksHw2Y8FBDlp93f7Pbhib4xDuW8ftC_fJR2nVXA5FPR7_uAf1YqRGbvCGvlU7cRB5C8B/s750/TANTRUM_t20_VoBXJb.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuNSQ2SDb6lwFpkwVRASlP0RWnRDxXUvE6Ocph-sc_KuhVnqjYF3xJYXjvsNhmww1baBpmgCcMKuMqFIyio6fyOELzt55rYn4evkUTZWFICEFgkMxlu0DksHw2Y8FBDlp93f7Pbhib4xDuW8ftC_fJR2nVXA5FPR7_uAf1YqRGbvCGvlU7cRB5C8B/s320/TANTRUM_t20_VoBXJb.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Children go through phases. There's the temper tantrum throwing phase, the lying phase, the I hate baths phase. I remember a time when my eldest son would run away whenever we told him it was time to go. We are currently in a phase where my daughter justifies herself whenever we correct her. </p><p>Our job as parents is to hold the line, remind them of the rules, and enforce consequences when they break the rules. However in this process, friends and family will most likely observe our children pushing the boundaries. Who hasn't had a kid throw a temper tantrum in a grocery store? What parent hasn't been disrespected by a mouthy child in public? It's embarrassing, and let's face it, people give us funny looks. They might even make judgements based on their observations. "We never let our children act that way in my day." "Well, I can see who's boss in your family." "Kids these days! They get away with everything."</p><p>We don't always have the presence of mind to react properly in public, especially if we're totally embarrassed. So let's remember a few things in order to have grace for ourselves and others. </p><p>First, kids go through phases in private and public. Our job is to hold the line in public and in private. If we forget to do this in public, it's not too late to correct them later in private, even if Great Aunt Bertha won't be there to see it and take back her judgmental comment.</p><p>Two, as embarrassing as it is for our kids to disobey in public, it's not our job to make sure nothing embarrassing happens to us in public. Our job is to learn to respond consistently in public and private. Yes, it's hard and takes practice.</p><p>Three, our identity isn't defined by our mistakes. Our identity also isn't based on people's observations of us. People don't see the whole picture. If people observed my son running away after we told him it was time to go, they might've believed my husband and I didn't have control over our son. And they were right. For a time, we didn't know what to do when he ran away. We had to try different things before we found something that seemed to work and by then, who knows? Maybe he just grew out of that phase. </p><p>Four, sometimes those comment-wielding older relatives have wisdom to impart. But we'll never be able to hear them or know how to properly apply their wisdom if we're too busy being embarrassed or offended. Again, this takes loads of practice.</p><p>In the meantime, don't freak out. People's opinions of us are just a phase too.</p><p><br /></p><p>More lessons from parenthood: <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/05/ghfc-mothers-day-testimony.html">Mother's Day Testimony</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2020/07/when-people-i-love-fight.html">When the People I Love Fight</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/12/just-say-thank-you.html">Just Say Thank You</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/08/comstock-chronicles-ministry.html">Ministry</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2022/07/a-lesson-on-revenge-for-kids.html">A Kids Lesson on Revenge</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/09/people-not-moving-fast-enough.html">People Not Moving Fast Enough</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2021/06/bid-for-intimacy.html">Bid For Intimacy</a>, <a href="http://abigailjoystevens.blogspot.com/2023/04/comstock-chronicles-cleaning-bedsheets.html">Cleaning the Sheets</a></p><p><br /></p>Abigail Joy Stevenshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00693718171233449104noreply@blogger.com0