<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:30:42.202-07:00</updated><category term='Childrens&apos; Books'/><category term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><category term='Breastfeeding'/><category term='Christ&apos;s Return'/><category term='Co-sleeping'/><category term='Raising Children'/><category term='Family'/><title type='text'>Those That be Planted in the House of YHWH</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1729402228290607100</id><published>2010-03-09T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T21:13:03.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My husband and I call a police car that is sitting on the side of the road a "mobile conscience."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have all seen it. For the brief moment that the motorists see and pass a cruiser they dramatically decrees their speeds to five or even ten miles under the speed limit when only moments before they were doing the opposite and going five or ten miles over the speed limit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It often makes us laugh but sometimes it can be annoying as traffic congests and those drivers who are not paying attention are forced to slam on their brakes in order to not rear end the car ahead of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the moment passes quickly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soon the cars pick up speed again and again the traffic flows at five to ten miles over the speed limit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The fear of the fine and the risk of raising their car insurance makes people very wary of getting caught. Yet they still speed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The true irony lies in how little is gained from speeding (especially when compared to the risks!). If someone wanted to arrive only five minutes earlier at their destination they will need to drive 60 miles on the freeway going five miles over the speed limit (assuming the speed limit is 60 miles per hour). That means that they will have to be driving for an hour in order for it to make even a remotely significant change to their arrival time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It reminds me a lot of my son.  When the tantalizingly interesting objects inside a forbidden cupboard is weighed against the risks of the punishment for satisfying his curiosity- it is often too much of a temptation for my little boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has learned not to undergo his investigation when Mommy is around - and the moment I walk over to see why he is so suspiciously quiet he will immediately slam shut the door and look at me with such innocence. Though I can not slap his offending hand (as I had not caught him in the act) I will still give him a firm verbal reminder and walk him away from the temptation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It reminds me a lot of myself. How often I try to cover up a lie, or try to justify a prideful moment!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But all the cover ups are of no avail. Just as the police officer pulls out behind the car that broke the law and my son gets a lecture for opening the cupboard door, God knows what I am doing- no matter how much I pretend how good I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those little moments of feeling relief at avoided embarrassment or the glee felt when I feel like I am better then another person (isn't the heart so desperately wicked?!) - is it worth the feeling of guilt later? Or even more sobering- that I may be called to account before my God for those fleeting moments?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to always remember that he is not on the side of the road or in another room- he is always there and knows my thoughts before they are even uttered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1729402228290607100?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1729402228290607100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-husband-and-i-call-police-car-that.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1729402228290607100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1729402228290607100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-husband-and-i-call-police-car-that.html' title=''/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7438194026192521301</id><published>2010-03-07T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T21:56:20.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Does Answer Prayers</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It is uncanny how often I will read a verse or hear somebody say something or (like today) read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://shelookethwell.blogspot.com/2010/03/priceless.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;a blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.incourage.me/2010/03/in-the-season-of-rain-pray-for-rain.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; actually!) that covers exactly what I am thinking about that day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;My curious little son unearthed a little notebook that I had used a couple years ago. As he clutched the little book that was just the right size for his little hands, I remembered what that notebook contained.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It was full of hopes, and fears, and joys and sorrows. It was a book of my prayers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Not long prayers. Just short little sentences that I would jot down as I prayed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It had to be a little notebook so that I could carry it everywhere with me. I found it useful writing my prayer notes down as it helped me to sort my thoughts out and clarify to myself what I wanted to bring before my God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When my son handed me the notebook I flipped through the pages and remembered some of the circumstances that prompted the prayers- the people I was worried about, the guidance that I needed and the blessings for which I was grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And I realized, yet again, what an awesome God I have!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;As I scanned each sentence I was able to see with a startling clarity how my God works in our lives. As I turned each page I almost felt like crying for joy as I realized how he answered my prayers, how he turned an impossible situation into something glorious, how he is able to change even the hardest and most rebellious of hearts and how he has continued to so richly bless me and those around me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Reading those prayers and realizing what he had done strengthened my faith in a God who can truly do anything. Just give him time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;“Pray without ceasing.” (1 Thess 5:17)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"B&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, serif; line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;span class="versetext" id="php4-6" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3309"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;careful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3367"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;nothing;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="235"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1722"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; every &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3956"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="4335"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;prayer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2532"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1162"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;supplication&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3326"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2169"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;thanksgiving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1107"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;let&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5216"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="155"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;requests&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; be made &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1107"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;known&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="4314"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;unto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2316"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="versetext" id="php4-7" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; "&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2532"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1515"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;peace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2316"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;God,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3588"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;which&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5242"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;passeth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3956"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3563"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;understanding,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; shall &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5432"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;keep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5216"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2588"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;hearts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2532"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="3540"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;minds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5216"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="1722"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="5547"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Christ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="strongs" sn="2424"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Jesus." (Phil 4:6-7)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7438194026192521301?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7438194026192521301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/he-does-answer-prayers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7438194026192521301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7438194026192521301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/he-does-answer-prayers.html' title='He Does Answer Prayers'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-621235385000355852</id><published>2010-03-02T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T09:53:40.088-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Praise God for he is our Shield</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I realized last night how long our list of prayer requests had become.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Each night my husband and I snuggle in bed together and he asks me what I would like to have included in our evening prayer. Usually the list is short with only a few special requests but recently this has not been the case.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;As I started listing off those effected in the Chilean earthquake, those suffering ill health such as cancer and kidney stones, pregnant mothers, and those doing missionary work at home and in foreign countries- when everyone is mentioned by name it became a very long list! (and I am sure that there are many that we forget to include!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;There is so much that is out of our control (what &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; in our control?) that it is humbling and comforting to realize that all these people that I know (many who are very dear to me), are under God’s protecting hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I can’t protect a family in a far away country. I can’t heal someone from cancer. I can’t look after babies that are in their mother’s womb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;That is God’s domain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;He is the strong tower, the nurturing and all powerful God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;We need to put our trust in him. For everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;He is truly worthy of all praise!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise ye the LORD&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;. &lt;b&gt;Praise ye the LORD&lt;/b&gt; from the heavens: praise him in the heights. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise ye him,&lt;/b&gt; all his angels: &lt;b&gt;praise ye him&lt;/b&gt;, all his hosts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise ye him&lt;/b&gt;, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise him&lt;/b&gt;, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Let them praise&lt;/b&gt; the name of the LORD: for he commanded , and they were created . He hath also stablished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which shall not pass . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise the LORD&lt;/b&gt; from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps: Fire, and hail; snow, and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling his word: Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars: Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl: Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth: Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children: &lt;b&gt;Let them praise&lt;/b&gt; the name of the LORD: for his name alone is excellent ; his glory is above the earth and heaven. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;He also exalteth the horn of his people, the praise of all his saints; even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Praise ye the LORD&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;(Psalm 148)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-621235385000355852?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/621235385000355852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-realized-last-night-how-long-our-list.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/621235385000355852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/621235385000355852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-realized-last-night-how-long-our-list.html' title='Praise God for he is our Shield'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-632316655787406545</id><published>2010-02-21T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T21:52:43.235-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Was My Motivation?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The heart is so deceitful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I recently had to make a very difficult moral decision that even now I don’t feel completely at ease within me on with what I finally ended up doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It is so difficult to look at a moral issue objectively when it is not as clearly defined as one would wish it to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The subtle layers of an issue can make it hard to come to the very core of why it is wrong, or even if it is wrong at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Then when one identifies that yes, it is wrong and why it is wrong, then comes the tough decision of what to do about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Is it something worth making a stand about? Is it something worth offending someone about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;In the end I decided that yes, it was something I had to make a stand about. My conscience didn’t feel comfortable with participating and making myself a part of what I thought was wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;But then, I found myself searching and questioning my true motives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Was it really because of my high and lofty morals that I was inspired to make my decision.. or was it my wily and evil little heart that had tricked me into thinking I had, when in fact I had been lured by other reasons? The hateful flesh tricking me into believing that I had made the choice out of a pure intentions when in fact it was pride that had been the true motivation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I hope not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I really and truly hope not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;” (Psalm 139:23-24)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-632316655787406545?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/632316655787406545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-was-my-motivation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/632316655787406545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/632316655787406545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-was-my-motivation.html' title='What Was My Motivation?'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-6518294945311963681</id><published>2010-02-17T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T11:06:05.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It has been very frustrating planning everything that I'd like to do in a day.. and then be too sick to do even half of the list!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I try to focus on what I was able to accomplish and try not to worry about the cluttered dining room table or the tissues shredded over the floor by my curious little monkey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it is still difficult.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have to keep on counting my blessings. We are all healthy, live in a wonderful house (just turn a blind eye to all that still has to be done!), and we are part of a warm and loving group of people who love and serve God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is a little bit of mess in the light of all those great blessings?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-6518294945311963681?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6518294945311963681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/it-has-been-very-frustrating-planning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6518294945311963681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6518294945311963681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/it-has-been-very-frustrating-planning.html' title=''/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-5329948815014020644</id><published>2010-02-08T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T11:36:38.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Peace in a New Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Besides the morning sickness and looking after my son and husband, we have also moved from an apartment in town to a house in the country.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I enjoy the solitude and silence. My home is now a haven from the outside world. I don’t hear the noisy trains, the neighbor’s television, or the industrial site that was behind our apartment. Instead I now only hear the horses, the cows, and the birds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I was never unhappy in our cozy little apartment, but I can now not understand how I was at peace with so much noise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;We are renting the house and I know that we will probably not live here longer than two years, yet I have already grown to love our home- even though it is temporary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;We are sojourners in more than one sense. There will soon be a time when we will be called before our Judge and will then find our permanent home- in his kingdom here on earth. Then we will look back at our time now and be so relieved that it is now the past. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The contentment we will find then will far surpass the peace I have found in this little house in the country.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-5329948815014020644?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5329948815014020644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/finding-peace-in-new-home.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5329948815014020644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5329948815014020644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/finding-peace-in-new-home.html' title='Finding Peace in a New Home'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-160128751459143829</id><published>2010-02-07T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T22:25:53.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Sickness</title><content type='html'>I have had so many blogs in my head as I was lying on the floor trying to avoid yet another mad dash to the nearest drain.. but found myself too sick to try put those thoughts down into coherently typed out words.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that I am feeling better hopefully my blogging will pick up! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-160128751459143829?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/160128751459143829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/morning-sickness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/160128751459143829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/160128751459143829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/morning-sickness.html' title='Morning Sickness'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1130541146920417705</id><published>2010-01-05T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T16:14:40.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nursing at 15 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;After reading &lt;a href="http://ccostello.blogspot.com/2010/01/wonderful-year.html"&gt;someone else’s blog&lt;/a&gt; that mentioned how she is planning to breast-feed her child beyond a year (and how that causes many people to raise their eyebrows!) it made me think about my precious time with my little boy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;At 15 months his main source of nutrition is solids and with 18 teeth in his mouth, I sometimes wonder if I am a little crazy breast-feeding him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But then I see his eyes light up I know it was not a mistake. We snuggle together. He strokes me gently with his hand as I brush back his hair. We sometimes play silly little games but I have to be careful not to make him laugh.. those teeth are sharp!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;It is such an intimate moment. In some ways I prefer the breast-feeding now even more then I did before. There is no pressure on me as now I am just supplementing his diet rather then being the only source of life giving nutrients.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I also only feed him in the privacy of our own home now, instead of having to live through those horribly awkward public feedings that never ceased to make me feel self-conscious and uncomfortable no matter how many times I have done it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;It has become just a relaxed moment for the two of us to pause in our busy day and spend some time with each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;A decision that had been made with hard cold facts in my head has become a warm and intimate thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I am not sure for how much longer I will breast-feed him, but I will try enjoy every moment of it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1130541146920417705?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1130541146920417705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/01/nursing-at-15-months.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1130541146920417705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1130541146920417705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2010/01/nursing-at-15-months.html' title='Nursing at 15 Months'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7025276687966728486</id><published>2009-12-10T15:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T16:55:48.761-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love My Role</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The other day someone mentioned how relieved they are that they live in this time period rather then in the past where women were stuck in their roles as homemakers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But as Anna so eloquently puts in her beautiful &lt;a href="http://ccostello.blogspot.com/2008/01/home-forgotten-realm.html"&gt;blog posts&lt;/a&gt; - a woman’s role is a beautiful thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;If both husband and wife look at their roles with the right attitude, it stops becoming a burden and becomes a beautiful partnership.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I still struggle to look positively at the endless cleaning, the fussy folding and the troublesome organizing, but I love my role. There are parts of it that I am guilty of allowing to let slide as I struggle along, but there are others that give me so much joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;There is nothing as satisfying as being in a clean house with a lovely dinner on the table, and a happy husband and son smiling at me. That is a good reward!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I wouldn’t trade my role for anything!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SyGYKl8ZqCI/AAAAAAAAAGI/UNGOaEbowQo/s320/DSC01041.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413775534827612194" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7025276687966728486?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7025276687966728486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-love-my-role.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7025276687966728486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7025276687966728486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-love-my-role.html' title='I Love My Role'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SyGYKl8ZqCI/AAAAAAAAAGI/UNGOaEbowQo/s72-c/DSC01041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2820236307072973415</id><published>2009-12-08T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T21:03:10.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deliberate Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Someone just told me how her son's kindergarten teacher  requested that children not inform other children that Santa is not real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am fine with the fact that the teacher requested that. The children should not learn from another child that their parents deliberately lied to them. Their parents should break it to them. They chose to lie they need to take responsibility for it. As you can tell, I struggle to understand why parents would do that to their children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't understand how the short term happiness justifies it. What about that day of reckoning in a few short years? The moment when the child comes crying to his mother and asks for reassurance that Santa is real, and then the cynicism later of how they “always” knew that he had not been real, but with the knowledge that they had been lied too. Who likes knowing that something they had thought was real had been a delusion?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Saint Nicholas died in 347 AD, he is not going to be trying to climb down anyones chimney. Once the children realize that their parents lied to them the discovery is sometimes very hurtful and distressing. I know someone who remembers that moment with vivid clarity- more then they remember the times that they sat on Santa's knee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Parenting sometimes involves some unplanned hypocrisy, but we try to avoid them as much as possible. So it is strange that so many parents deliberately participate in this tradition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is also pretty strange to me that non-catholic parents would even mention him to their children. Why don't they teach them about other Catholic saints too? Oh, wait St Patrick.. OK besides him..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another thing that I find a bit disconcerting is how Saint Nicholas takes on many of God's roles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This song is a great example:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You better watch out  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You better not cry  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Better not pout&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm telling you why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Santa Claus is coming to town  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He's making a list  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And checking it twice;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Santa Claus is coming to town  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He sees you when you're sleeping  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He knows when you're awake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He knows if you've been bad or good..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He knows when you have been good or bad?!? Umm.. that, I thought, was only applicable to God and to his son Jesus Christ! Every time I hear this song in grocery stores I cringe at how blasphemous it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Before parents choose to tell their children about a jolly old Saint Nick, they should be responsible about their decision and do the research first, think about it and then decide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Don't do it just because it is nice now. Forget the media. These are your children that you are trying to raise. Precious gifts from the God who watches over them as they sleep and while they are awake, who knows whether you have lied or whether you chose to tell your children the truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2820236307072973415?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2820236307072973415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/deliberate-lies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2820236307072973415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2820236307072973415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/deliberate-lies.html' title='Deliberate Lies'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8405401899828169773</id><published>2009-12-05T21:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T21:21:34.601-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scared to Talk</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Honestly, there are some people out there who I care about a lot but who make me feel intimidated of ever saying anything beyond the banal everyday sort of things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;They are so sensitive and volatile that I have had conversations that I have planned out carefully for days blow up in my face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Then they have the audacity to say that they would prefer people to talk to them personally if we want to address an issue or want to talk about something more intimate that is going on in their lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I would rather go into a cage full of tigers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;At least then it will only be me who gets hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Because that is the other side of the issue. Yes, there is an element of self preservation here. I do not like being in what seems to inevitably turn into a drama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But there is also the part where I don’t want to hurt anyone by my bumbling around in an effort to be tactful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Yes, I would like to approach them and talk to the person on a one on one manner, but is it worth it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;After I think about it and remember the past, I usually decide no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Yes, ideally it would be best. Christ tells us that it is best to talk to your brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But it is so much easier and the end (immediate) result is so much better if I find out through someone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;So yes, my relationship with that person doesn’t improve, but then again it doesn’t become any worse either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8405401899828169773?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8405401899828169773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/scared-to-talk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8405401899828169773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8405401899828169773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/12/scared-to-talk.html' title='Scared to Talk'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2379093241636504782</id><published>2009-10-30T13:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T16:52:31.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contentment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, serif; font-size: 12px; "&gt;We often tell children that they have no idea how fortunate they are. They are given food and toys, and don’t have to do anything except play all day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But I would never want to be a child again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Even though the responsibilities of being a wife and a mother weigh heavy on me at times, I wouldn’t want to trade it away for the carefree days of childhood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I don’t like folding laundry, cleaning the shower, and the endless repetitive cycle of cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. But I love my husband, I love my child, I love knowing who I am and knowing what my goals are in life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I was happy with my life as a child, I enjoyed being a teenager, but I am content being an adult. Hopefully I will be at peace when I grow old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;It is only now, that I am finally able to fully appreciate that “godliness with contentment is great gain.” (1 Timothy 6:6)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SyGXdgwdeAI/AAAAAAAAAGA/L1agIY1heGs/s320/DSC00969.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413774760341239810" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2379093241636504782?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2379093241636504782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/contentment.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2379093241636504782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2379093241636504782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/contentment.html' title='Contentment'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SyGXdgwdeAI/AAAAAAAAAGA/L1agIY1heGs/s72-c/DSC00969.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2569408927944486562</id><published>2009-10-29T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:47:11.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Things Sometimes Seem Too Big!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Parenting is filled with so many awful decisions. The consequences of our decisions regarding the little ones in our care feels almost overwhelming if one begins to contemplate for too long all the possible repercussions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Discipline, nutrition, immunization, education and socialization are a couple areas that I have been having to make some decisions about recently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;When to discipline and when to let something slide. That fine balance between raising a brat or a child that is surrounded by the word “no” so that the word looses it’s impact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Nutrition is a big worry for me as I look at how skinny my active little boy is. I can feel every rib in his chest! Now that he is teething he is eating even less! What to give him that he can eat that won’t hurt his sore, bleeding gums but is packed full of healthy fat and carbohydrates?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;To get the flu shot or not to get the flu shot. I have decided after doing some research, not to get either the seasonal flu shot or the H1N1 shot. But what if my son gets the flu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;All these worries and concerns! But then, I take a deep breath, and pray about it all. Suddenly all these little things of life go back to being little, and I start focusing on the big things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;How can I nurture love and respect for his God in my little son? How can I make more time for Bible study in my life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;God will look after us. I just need to put my trust in him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;What does it matter if Asaph can swim? Will it get him into the kingdom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2569408927944486562?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2569408927944486562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-things-sometimes-seem-too-big.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2569408927944486562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2569408927944486562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-things-sometimes-seem-too-big.html' title='Little Things Sometimes Seem Too Big!'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1473968545278063194</id><published>2009-10-26T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T12:18:08.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying and Failing 16 Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I am currently reading a series of books written about two jewish boys growing up in New York shortly after the second world war.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The book has a ring of authenticity to it that only someone who had experienced the trials the boys went through (or at least something very similar) could have written with such insight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The other day at the doctor’s office the nurse asked me how long we had tried before I got pregnant with my son. Even though I could tell her exactly how long we had tried I gave her the general time frame of a year. Oh, only a year she replied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I felt a little spark of something akin to anger. Well it was actually longer than a year. More like 16 months. I didn’t say this out-loud but I thought it in my head. And I knew that she had never tried to have a child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Never tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed. Tried and failed.. 16 times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Never endured the false hopes. The joyous expectations when all the signs seemed to point to finally being successful! This time I was most certainly pregnant! ..to be cruelly crushed when the first pangs of menstruation began.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I had wanted a child for so long. But in the first year of marriage my husband became very sick. So sick he barely made it through. Then it took a long time for him to heal.. and now, now finally we could think about having children. But none came. And none came. And none came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;And then we had ourselves tested and I found out it was my fault. There was something wrong with me. That is why I could not have children. It was my fault. It was almost easier before when I thought that maybe the illness had effected my husband.. but now I knew. It was me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Many people have had it a lot worse off than I have. A lot worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;But only those who have gone through it can have any idea how it is really like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Now I can truly empathize with people like Abraham’s wife Sarah. So many years of her hopes being raised and crushed each month.. until she became beyond childbearing age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;With that perspective then yes, trying and failing 16 times seems like nothing compared to her something like 300 times of trying. Imagine trying anything 300 times only to fail 300 times. Even my mind can not comprehend how she must have felt. Knowing that it was her body that was faulty. That is was because of her that her husband didn’t have a son and heir. That it was because of her that she didn’t have a baby to hold and to love and to cherish. But she knew that God was in control. He opens and closes the womb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;And finally he opened Sarah’s.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;And now, after having my son, a year goes by so quickly! Each month slips by like pearls off a necklace.. so fast that I feel like I only get a fleeting glimpse before it is gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;We are trying again for another baby.. so time slows down for 15 days out of the month. But I try not to think about it too much. We have tried and failed already a number of times this time round. But I keep my trust in my God. If he wants a sibling for my son he will give it. The Lord gives and he takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;So yes, it was only a year, but don’t underestimate someone’s trial, unless you have gone through a similar experience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1473968545278063194?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1473968545278063194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/trying-and-failing-16-times.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1473968545278063194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1473968545278063194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/trying-and-failing-16-times.html' title='Trying and Failing 16 Times'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7946124134611904853</id><published>2009-07-29T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T12:44:51.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Re: Previouse Post</title><content type='html'>hmm.. after reading &lt;a href="http://www.alyson.ca/2009/04/children-and-religion.html"&gt;the article&lt;/a&gt; again I realized that I remembered it incorrectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The article does say that: “Model a good relationship with your faith and how you live in your faith community (be that your church or your co-op food depot) and trust that children will be influenced by your good example..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then ends that paragraph with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“..even if that means they don't want to come to church or synagogue, mosque or temple for a few years.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The article's main thrust was that religion relies on fear tactics and that if you have a strong value in the family it tends to polarize the children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like the serpent, the argument has just enough truth in it to sound plausible but then mixes in a lot of error.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have time to write about that right now... have to make lunch for my husband who is going to be here soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7946124134611904853?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7946124134611904853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/07/re-previouse-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7946124134611904853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7946124134611904853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/07/re-previouse-post.html' title='Re: Previouse Post'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1269652737105067562</id><published>2009-07-29T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T12:30:53.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith is NOT like Sports</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SnCjP8IiYwI/AAAAAAAAAFw/qgMTAhHw8WQ/s1600-h/DSC06520.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SnCjP8IiYwI/AAAAAAAAAFw/qgMTAhHw8WQ/s320/DSC06520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363966650433561346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while back a fellow blogger posted an article which had the underlying message that if you force your religion on your children then they will rebel and reject it. The author of the article equated a religious family to a super sporty family where there is always at least one child who doesn’t want to have anything to do with sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think the blogger agreed with the article but the arguments in the article were persuasive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is because, like the serpent in the garden of Eden, the whole basis of the argument was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, our faith is not like sports. I would equate it more to brushing teeth. Children go through a stage where they don’t want to take baths and don’t want to brush their teeth. But mothers don’t just let their children not practice basic hygiene in the hopes that they will figure it out by themselves. Their children will not thank them later when their mouths are full of cavities!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same is with our faith. Our children will go through stages where they will maybe not want to do the Bible readings or assert a rebellious spirit about going to Bible class. But this is not about learning how to kick a ball the right way so that they can score a goal, this is about how to live their lives so that they can serve God in his Kingdom- it is more a matter of life or death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These were some of the reasons I gave in my response in that blog to the article. But I felt like there was a certain aspect that I was missing. My answer didn’t seem complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today I read a different &lt;a href="http://parunak.com/pursuingtitus2/2009/07/23/how-to-make-sure-your-kids-resent-you-and-reject-everything-you-believe-in-three-easy-steps/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; and I realized what it was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blog gave (tongue in cheek of course) three easy steps in how you can make your child reject what is the most important things in your life:&lt;br /&gt;Step 1. Make sure your kids know that whatever you care about is so much more important to you than they are.&lt;br /&gt;Step 2. Be grumpy, irritable, and generally joyless.&lt;br /&gt;Step 3. Put lots of pressure on your kids to follow in your footsteps without ever making your beliefs relevant in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we inadvertently reinforce in our children’s minds that they are a burden to us as we try to do God’s work, that doing God’s work is stressful and that they should follow God’s word because “mother says so” then they will not understand why they need to make it important in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children can be a help and should be part of the work done for God’s house. They will see the times of stress but will also remember the times of happiness and joyful fellowship around God’s word. When they see your eyes light up, then theirs will too. If their questions are answered with Bible in hand, and a prayer together when needed, they will understand why it is such a blessing to have a close relationship with their God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can’t equate this to sports.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is something beautiful, precious that will help them throughout their lives. Directing their paths, soothing their hearts and giving them hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By instilling this in their hearts as a child, they will always cherish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SnCjWsiuHjI/AAAAAAAAAF4/VcVtksj2B7s/s1600-h/DSC06815.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SnCjWsiuHjI/AAAAAAAAAF4/VcVtksj2B7s/s320/DSC06815.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363966766507499058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1269652737105067562?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1269652737105067562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/07/faith-is-not-like-sports.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1269652737105067562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1269652737105067562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/07/faith-is-not-like-sports.html' title='Faith is NOT like Sports'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SnCjP8IiYwI/AAAAAAAAAFw/qgMTAhHw8WQ/s72-c/DSC06520.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2402657772966159083</id><published>2009-06-26T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T15:24:43.306-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>Siblings Sharing Space</title><content type='html'>There are so much incorrect information in this world especially about children, and especially laws concerning children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a &lt;a href="http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-love-naked-pictures-of-babies.html"&gt;previous blog&lt;/a&gt; I mentioned how it is not against the law for me to take pictures of my son without his clothes on. The reason I know this is because someone had told me that when he turns 9 months old it is against the law for me to take pictures of him in the buff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I looked it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no it isn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, as I mentioned in that posting, I have to be careful where I post those photos. As, even though it is not against the law (as long as they are taken with the right attitude and in the right context), I must be careful about my son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was told that if I have another child of the opposite sex or I have more than two children we will need to move into a thee bedroom apartment/house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I looked it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no I don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some apartments do have their own rules about same sex siblings sharing a room (separate rooms after one of them turns 5 years old), and if any of the children are part of the foster care system then there are different rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as long as the children are happy and healthy parents don’t have to worry about Child Protective Services if their children share a room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shared a room with my three siblings (one of which is a boy), until we hit puberty and we loved it! I have many fond memories of playing with our stuffed animals together, building with Legos together, and constructing elaborate forts together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also taught us many valuable life lessons about sharing and cooperation. This became an invaluable asset when some of us lived together in the same house along with our spouses for a couple years (I am planning to blog about that at some point - our experience with communal living - working together and respecting each others’ space).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the children want some privacy, there are many easy things one can do to fulfill their need of having their own space. &lt;a href="http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/homegarden/2008712556_zhom05doublingup.html"&gt;Here are some ideas&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We plan to be out of our apartment before God hopefully blesses us with three children (hoping for four!). Not only because it would make our apartment feel a little too crowded but also because I think it is valuable for children to have a garden to run around and play in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still undecided about how long my children will share rooms but mostly because it will depend on the children. I don’t think they need everything they want but do want to give them what they need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will have four boys, and then I won’t even have to worry about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2402657772966159083?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2402657772966159083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/siblings-sharing-space.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2402657772966159083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2402657772966159083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/siblings-sharing-space.html' title='Siblings Sharing Space'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-154528761459784091</id><published>2009-06-24T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T14:28:09.996-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Rise, Shine and...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I just saw a sidebar Ebay add that disappointed me a little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it started out I didn’t know it was an Ebay add as it just showed clouds and then a sun appearing with the words: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;“rise, shine..”&lt;/span&gt; and instantly the rest of the song came into mind: “and give &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; the glory!” but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt;, the next words that appeared were &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“and make it&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;mine&lt;/span&gt;.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The contrast was rather stark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last words that stayed on the screen were &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Make it a perfect day with the perfect deal.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was the contrast between the thought of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;giving glory to our &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; who deserves our praise&lt;/span&gt;, to that of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;feeding the materialistic, greedy little &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;monster&lt;/span&gt; inside all of us&lt;/span&gt; that really jolted me out of thinking about reading my emails and started me thinking on a higher plane that ended with self examination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we rise and shine &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; should be first in our thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we praise &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; and do &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; work &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; should make it a perfect day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I thought back on my morning so far I realized that first thought when I awoke was: “just a few more minutes of sleep, please!” as my son made it known that his morning had started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dragging myself out of bed and pottering around the house my thoughts have been filled with things I am planning to do today and tomorrow..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;..and not a single thought of praise to my God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Ebay for making me re-evaluate my morning and start thinking about my God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you God for reminding me about you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-154528761459784091?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/154528761459784091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/rise-shine-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/154528761459784091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/154528761459784091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/rise-shine-and.html' title='Rise, Shine and...'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-6111158031962798744</id><published>2009-06-17T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T17:48:11.435-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Don't Question God</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I sometimes wish that life changing events... didn’t permanently change one’s life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not talking about the good changes like when one decides to dedicate one’s life to God, or to get married or to have children..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it’s the unplanned, horrible ones - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the ones that I wish &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; happened&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ones where I would do almost &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; to go back in time to stop it from ever occouring. To go back and change the past in order to make the present better or simply easier and less complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God is wise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He decided to make things happen the way they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no profit in questioning his wisdom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-6111158031962798744?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6111158031962798744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-question-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6111158031962798744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6111158031962798744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-question-god.html' title='Don&apos;t Question God'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7006143495902819367</id><published>2009-06-17T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T13:37:20.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mown Grass</title><content type='html'>Driving down the freeway I noticed that they were cutting the grass along the verge and in the median strip. Big clouds of dust billowed behind the heavy machinery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I suffer terribly with grass allergies I was a little sad to see the grass being cut down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In front of the mower the golden, dusky pink and shades of green grass, dotted with bright white daises, swayed in the breeze. Behind the mower the grass was short, uniform and yellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminded me of a verse about the flesh. Here today, gone in an instant. All in God’s control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it turns out &lt;a href="http://parunak.com/pursuingtitus2/2009/06/16/but-alas-i-and-my-children-turned-out-to-be-human/"&gt;I wasn’t the only one to think about grass today&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7006143495902819367?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7006143495902819367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/mown-grass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7006143495902819367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7006143495902819367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/mown-grass.html' title='Mown Grass'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7288660373158861679</id><published>2009-06-16T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T19:55:07.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wise as Serpents</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjhZuXyarwI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kG_gE8o8f4E/s1600-h/DSC04227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjhZuXyarwI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kG_gE8o8f4E/s320/DSC04227.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348123210696797954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; naked pictures of babies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cute&lt;/span&gt; with their rolls of chub, soft skin and the dimples. What is a more adorable picture then that of my son’s little behind as he stands holding unto the side of the bathtub looking eagerly in at the water as his bath is being prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a certain innocence about babies in the buff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; being naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so funny to see a little toddler running away from his mother who is trying to get his clothes back on him. Rejoicing in his nakedness, his laughter is contagious. His mother has to give up the chase and sit down so that she can breath through her laughter, and ruefully watch her child run around with glee in the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I will never post any adorable photos of my baby's bare bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is &lt;a href="http://www.usdoj.gov/criminal/ceos/citizensguide_porn.html"&gt;no law that prevents me&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But prudence does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a public blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't share my name, age or even my home town on this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wise as a serpent in these dark days&lt;/span&gt; (Matt 10:16).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7288660373158861679?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7288660373158861679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-love-naked-pictures-of-babies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7288660373158861679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7288660373158861679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-love-naked-pictures-of-babies.html' title='Wise as Serpents'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjhZuXyarwI/AAAAAAAAAFo/kG_gE8o8f4E/s72-c/DSC04227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8342045089945916493</id><published>2009-06-14T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T22:51:48.798-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Like Christ ye Mothers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjXf6Nb7NFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/eY_22CYYM2I/s1600-h/DSC04236.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjXf6Nb7NFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/eY_22CYYM2I/s320/DSC04236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347426323704525906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Moms ‘n Tots last Friday I spent the afternoon with another young first-time mother and we got on the topic of how easily young mums can read criticism in even the most innocent of remarks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had both found that we have had to work really hard not to take to heart what people says about our child or about us as a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been quite a realization to both of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before being mothers we had quite thick skins and were almost impervious to most things that people could say to us. Even today you can make a remark about our clothes, or the geeky things we say or do and we will laugh and make a joke of it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..BUT you make one seemingly slighting remark about our baby and it elicits a completely different reaction. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Watch out for Mama bear!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same is true for how we look after our precious little gifts from God. It is such a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;huge&lt;/span&gt; responsibility to take care of a little person - looking after their physical bodies and molding their souls - so that if someone does say something that even vaguely implies that we are not doing a good enough job.. the defenses immediately go up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The discussion left me with an even stronger resolve to bite my tongue before responding to a remark. Maybe asking a question to find out what the other person was really trying to say before immediately putting up the barb wire, setting out the guard dogs, and sending out the armored tanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Giving others the benefit of the doubt. Something I appreciate when it is given to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have often put my foot into it, and have always been grateful when given a little bit of patience and a second chance to better explain myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;..and what if it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; a criticism?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if someone does say something negative about my child or about how I am raising my child?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am trying my hardest to be a good mother and I need to keep reminding myself that the other person is just trying to help me. By giving them an opportunity to speak I may become an even better mother, or, if the advice is something I don’t wish to follow, at least the experience will hopefully help me become a better disciple of Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ was always a patient listener. He didn’t revile when he was reviled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night at Sister’s class we read these verses that tied in perfectly with the earlier discussion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;“For what glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;when ye do well&lt;/span&gt;, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; is acceptable with God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps: Who did no sin, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;neither was guile found in his mouth&lt;/span&gt;: Who, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when he was reviled, reviled not again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;; when &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously&lt;/span&gt;: Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Likewise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ye &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wives&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;..”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn’t that such a powerful passage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the key point for us women is the word “&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;likewise&lt;/span&gt;.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like Christ ye women.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Christ had no guile in his mouth and did not revile - we should do likewise - especially if we are criticized (or at least we may feel criticized) while trying our best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Like Christ ye women.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjXgeKJGgRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/shPrSDGuqEA/s1600-h/DSC04135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjXgeKJGgRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/shPrSDGuqEA/s320/DSC04135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347426941295558930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8342045089945916493?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8342045089945916493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/after-moms-n-tots-last-friday-i-spent.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8342045089945916493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8342045089945916493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/after-moms-n-tots-last-friday-i-spent.html' title='Like Christ ye Mothers'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjXf6Nb7NFI/AAAAAAAAAE0/eY_22CYYM2I/s72-c/DSC04236.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-3274854087557846223</id><published>2009-06-13T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T19:43:45.303-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Who needs a Map??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjRlbXySrWI/AAAAAAAAAEs/dkJIPaHR2JE/s1600-h/DSC03753.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjRlbXySrWI/AAAAAAAAAEs/dkJIPaHR2JE/s320/DSC03753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347010178511449442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am one of those people blessed with a very good sense of direction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roughly&lt;/span&gt; where I am and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roughly&lt;/span&gt; know the general area, I can usually work out where I want to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It usually involves a couple of u-turns and long-way-rounds because of dead-end streets, or roads that end up leading me the wrong way, but I usually find my way in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become so confident and reliant on my ability that it surprises me when others don’t share my faith in my ability (like my brother's wife and my mother-in-law). They look at me dubiously as I stand confidently with arm outstretched and finger pointing: “There! That is where we want to go! Now we just need to find a way to get there...”&lt;br /&gt;And even when we eventually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; find our way, they are still left feeling skeptical and put it down to chance that I had found my way in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were teenagers, my sister that is now in Ecuador and I used to go on many a road trip without a map (usually because we forgot to bring a map with us), and we always found our way.. eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The times that I do get lost is usually when I am stressed out (because I am late!) or very tired. If am late for something or have a lot going on, I tend to second guess myself and usually get all mixed up, start crying and call someone on my cellphone to help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and sometimes I get lost because my sense of direction was wrong. I didn’t actually know where I was or I didn’t actually know where I was going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of relying on my own sense of direction, wouldn’t it be so much &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;easier&lt;/span&gt; with a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;map&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A map to tell me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; where I am and where I am going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I used a map I wouldn’t have to learn the hard way where not to go. I would not waste my time (and other’s time too!) with going the wrong way or wondering around not quite sure where I am or which road to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thank you God for giving us your word. A guide to how I should live my life and which shows me where &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; I should be heading.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; trust on my own instincts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With God’s word constantly as my reference guide it makes my life so much simpler. I just need to make sure it is always with me and that I know how to use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"A man's heart deviseth his way: but &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YHWH&lt;/span&gt; directeth his steps.”&lt;br /&gt;(Proverbs 16:9)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-3274854087557846223?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3274854087557846223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/who-needs-map.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/3274854087557846223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/3274854087557846223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/who-needs-map.html' title='Who needs a Map??'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjRlbXySrWI/AAAAAAAAAEs/dkJIPaHR2JE/s72-c/DSC03753.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2686464330135285719</id><published>2009-06-10T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T14:48:27.784-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>Life's Road</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAlrHNCMNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aS_ssWauMHY/s1600-h/DSC03675.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAlrHNCMNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aS_ssWauMHY/s320/DSC03675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345814180287099090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving my son to swimming lessons this morning, I realized how my perception of the section of road leaving the town in which I now live has changed over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a child and lived two hours south from the town in which I now live, I didn’t even notice this section at all. I was probably busy within the car with my stuffed animals, reading a book or squabbling with my siblings with an occasional glance out the window at the passing scenery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I grew older and drove this route with my sister and then by myself in order to visit my future husband I dimly started to notice this particular section of road. As part of a two hour road trip, this section was only note worthy as it was the point where I could speed back up to 70 miles per hour after driving 60 through town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have lived in this town for almost a year I have become very familiar with that section of road. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It has become a part of my everyday life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, when we move away from this town, I will have fond memories of that section of road and won’t be able to pass it without a wistful smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Isn’t life like that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was young I had a vague notion about being a mother. Not the real mother things but more the outer showings of a mother- cooking, cleaning, and looking after the physical needs of the children. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was too busy being a kid to give it too much deep thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAmpQ8n9yI/AAAAAAAAAEU/KrZNh2214VA/s1600-h/DSC03679.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAmpQ8n9yI/AAAAAAAAAEU/KrZNh2214VA/s320/DSC03679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345815248054515490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I grew older and worked in day care I started to put some more thought into how I would like to raise my own children &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(especially when I saw examples of how I didn’t want my children to behave!)&lt;/span&gt;. My future husband and I also discussed how we would raise our children if God had that in store for us. I had &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;many &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;high&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; expectations&lt;/span&gt; for myself and started to form an &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;idealistic picture in my head of what type of mother I would like to be&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I became a mother I started to realize that the section of life’s road &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wasn’t &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; the way I had thought it was going to be like&lt;/span&gt;. I had either not known or not realized the importance of certain things about being a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of it was good in that I was surprised at exactly how much a part of me my baby becomes. I was also amazed at how much I can love him, how much joy he can give me and how deeply he effects me. Another thing that I found out was how much a part of the unit that my husband and I had become he was able to so naturally become a part of too. The three of us feel like we have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; been together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But some of it was also negative with the loneliness, the uncertainties and the frustrations. I knew I would be lonely being an hour away from most of the people that I know, but I didn’t realize &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how&lt;/span&gt; lonely. I also didn’t truly appreciate how many uncertainties come with being a mother- should I do this for him? Is this the right decision? What if that happens? I also sometimes get so frustrated with my son and wonder how someone I love so much, can also make me so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;angry&lt;/span&gt;. So angry that I have to leave the room, do something else, and take a couple deep breaths before coming back. Being a mother is not all about cleaning, cooking and looking after the children. Most of it is in the head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that he is eight months old I am finally starting to fully understand all the ins and outs of being a mother. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This section of road is now becoming fam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;iliar to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very happy being a mother. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; being a mom to my little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know, years from now, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I will look back with a fond smile at this time with my little boy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAoOCybB9I/AAAAAAAAAEk/BD75P_qajkU/s1600-h/DSC03685.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAoOCybB9I/AAAAAAAAAEk/BD75P_qajkU/s320/DSC03685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345816979420415954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2686464330135285719?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2686464330135285719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/lifes-road.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2686464330135285719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2686464330135285719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/lifes-road.html' title='Life&apos;s Road'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SjAlrHNCMNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aS_ssWauMHY/s72-c/DSC03675.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1403753641951565359</id><published>2009-06-03T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T15:36:14.225-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christ&apos;s Return'/><title type='text'>Waiting for His Return</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sib439xU8tI/AAAAAAAAAD0/7oOF1p_y9Uk/s1600-h/DSC02507.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sib439xU8tI/AAAAAAAAAD0/7oOF1p_y9Uk/s320/DSC02507.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343231648279622354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;adores&lt;/span&gt; his Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, at the end of his lunch break at home, my husband prepared to leave. My son, who had been closely observing his father's every movement, indicated to me by raising his arms and wiggling his fingers that he wanted to walk. The moment I grasped his two hands he pulled himself up and walked as fast as his two little feet could go over to Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son made a general nuisance of himself as my husband tried to put on his roller blades. He tried to bump heads with his father (something the two of them do as a sign of affection), grab at a strap on his father's rollerblades (but I didn’t want him to get too close to the wheels), snatch off my husband’s glasses, and try to get his Daddy to hold him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But Daddy had to leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my son being held back by his mother - his determined strides forward being restrained by the very hands that he held for support - my husband was finally ready to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy gave one last hug and kiss, rolled out the door and then shut the door behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son gave out a little heartrending cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran forward to the door and stared at it for a long moment. Maneuvered himself to where it opened and stared at it for another moment, hoping that Daddy would open it and come back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son looked up at the doorknob and tried to reach for it. While holding unto one of my hands he let go the other and reached his arm up as high as he could -even going onto his tippytoes- but still could not reach the doorknob. He finally looked imploringly at his mother. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Let me out! Let me go to Daddy!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to distract him by walking him away from the door but each time he would determinedly turn back and walk up to the door and try reach for the door knob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He wanted to be with his Daddy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually I managed to get him away from the door and have him start to play with his toys - but for a couple moments even after that he would look over his shoulder at the door. Waiting for his Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Daddy came home at the end of the day- oh the excitement!! My son fairly wriggled with it! The joy! He grinned his biggest grin and when his Daddy scooped him up he gave his Daddy a big hug around the neck! “You are home!! I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;missed&lt;/span&gt; you Daddy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;May we anticipate Christ’s return with as much joy and excitement!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1403753641951565359?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1403753641951565359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-son-adores-his-daddy.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1403753641951565359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1403753641951565359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-son-adores-his-daddy.html' title='Waiting for His Return'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sib439xU8tI/AAAAAAAAAD0/7oOF1p_y9Uk/s72-c/DSC02507.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-5977324702498425505</id><published>2009-06-01T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:09:18.970-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Two Hundred Dollars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.alphabetsigns.com/p/PS03WA1218/"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiRukqUkQ3I/AAAAAAAAADE/Hp-PnmwWC4w/s200/reserved+parking.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342516634083148658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our apartment's parking arrangement is nice in that there is no assigned parking and so we don’t have to worry about limited visitor parking. But the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt; thing about the complex's parking arrangement is that we often have to park faaar away from our apartment (sometimes on the opposite side of the apartment complex from our apartment!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don’t mind the walking. In fact we prefer walking! I walk to the grocery stores to go shopping and my husband, if he is not walking, roller blades to work every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, if we have a lot of things to unload, it is pouring with rain and it is getting late at night, the parking arrangement is a pain! (-at least in our arms and backs anyway)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we got home in the evening, after baby’s bedtime. My husband was coming back from a weekend backpacking trip which involved roughly 20 miles of hiking and I had been up late every night hanging out with some of my girlfriends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were exhausted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the only free spot anywhere near our apartment was a handicapped only spot. We decided to use it just while we unloaded the vehicle, and then we would move the car to a different spot right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But we forgot to move the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we found a notification about a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hefty&lt;/span&gt; fine under the windshield wipers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A $200 dollar hefty fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried not to think about how many groceries that could buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Two-hundred dollars!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first reaction was to try see if I can contact someone and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;justify myself&lt;/span&gt;- tell them the circumstances surrounding why we had parked there. We hadn’t meant to park there! I could tell them about my tired husband with knees so sore that he could hardly walk, about the tired baby who needed to go to bed, and all the luggage that needed to be unpacked. Have mercy on a poor tired mother!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next thought was to try &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;blame my husband&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; had taken the last bits of luggage out of the car. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; is the one that normally parks the car. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; should have remembered. It was all &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his &lt;/span&gt;fault!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, thankfully, I didn’t do either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t call anyone to try justify myself and I didn’t rant at my husband for forgetting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Neither reaction would have been what Christ would want from me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had broken the law and I was just as much in the wrong as my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to continue to tell that to myself every time I remember how big the fine was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$200.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR3QNL9vKI/AAAAAAAAADs/8NkEES1KpY0/s1600-h/DSC02716.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR3QNL9vKI/AAAAAAAAADs/8NkEES1KpY0/s400/DSC02716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342526178269707426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-5977324702498425505?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5977324702498425505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/two-hundred-dollars.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5977324702498425505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5977324702498425505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/06/two-hundred-dollars.html' title='Two Hundred Dollars'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiRukqUkQ3I/AAAAAAAAADE/Hp-PnmwWC4w/s72-c/reserved+parking.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8713969089863568739</id><published>2009-05-31T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:10:12.092-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childrens&apos; Books'/><title type='text'>Petunia the Goose</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0394808657/qid=1146586297/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/103-9969215-0616638?/lewrockwell/"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 177px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiMd51iXrEI/AAAAAAAAAC8/tbktrt0zCSM/s200/petunia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342146462452526146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; reading childrens' books. The other day I was reading “Petunia” which is a story of a silly goose who picks up a book that was lying in the meadow and how the events that ensue changes her whole attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing she knew about books was what she had heard the farmer say about them:&lt;span style=";font-family:Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"He who owns Books and loves them is wise."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, she thought that by simply carrying the book around with her all the time, that it not only made her more intelligent, but that it qualified her to give advice to her friends. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BUT the advice she gave was not only incorrect but also hurtful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But she did not realize this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more she carried the book the more proud she became, and the higher she would point her head until her neck became very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But her pride vanished literally with a big bang after she advised her barn yard friends (as she could not read the warning label) to eat dynamite. Her friends were left bruised and sore, and Petunia's neck returned to its normal length.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The explosion had also opened the book and she realized not only that there were pages with words inside but that she could not read them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book ends with her resolving to learn how to read and shows her studying a book about the alphabet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finished reading the book I was left sitting in shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This childrens' book had made me realize a truth about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me realize that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was very much like Petunia the goose&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I too thought that by being armed with a little knowledge (like Petunia knew that books make you intelligent) that I knew &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; there is to know about babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked giving advice, and not only liked thinking that I was intelligent and knowledgeable but that others thought me intelligent and knowledgeable too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, like Petunia, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it had made me proud&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that time I have been trying really hard (with some success) to not give advice when it is not sought. To not think that, because I don’t agree with what another mother is doing with her child, that it makes me any better of a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can already see a difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only in my outlook but also in the mothers around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;likes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; having a proud know-it-all goose around anyway?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully she has now been replaced by a humbly-supportive goose instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR2-xeY80I/AAAAAAAAADk/VWdWzO_oBfY/s1600-h/DSC02710.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR2-xeY80I/AAAAAAAAADk/VWdWzO_oBfY/s400/DSC02710.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342525878773019458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8713969089863568739?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8713969089863568739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/petunia-goose.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8713969089863568739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8713969089863568739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/petunia-goose.html' title='Petunia the Goose'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiMd51iXrEI/AAAAAAAAAC8/tbktrt0zCSM/s72-c/petunia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-5389561244826813953</id><published>2009-05-30T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:14:26.685-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Co-sleeping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>"But how can one be warm alone?"</title><content type='html'>Is there anything as sweet as a sleeping baby cuddled up against you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my husband gone on a backpacking trip, my little boy gets to sleep with me (with three in the bed it gets too crowded for me and my claustrophobia kicks in!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But with the two of us it is so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cozy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; When he sleeps with me he always wants a hand or a foot on me for reassurance- “Mommy is still there!”- which probably comes from when he was younger (and smaller!) and used to sleep with us all the time and I would always keep a hand on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we sleep together, falling asleep is never a problem as we cuddle together until we drift off in peaceful harmony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His three o'clock feeding is just a continuation of the harmony as his gentle tugs on my shirt prompts me to roll over (without even properly waking up) and when he is finished he simply pulls away and falls back to sleep. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So in tune with each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the night if I wake up I listen to his breathing, tuck him in a little more, and relish the sweet moment of slumbering baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, my awakening is a little abrupt as my early-riser bats at me with his hands and pommels me with his feet with ever increasing vigor until I open an eye and then he gives me a radiant smile! “Ah ha! She is awake! Nope! Her eye is closed again- let me try again!” When I finally resign myself to my fate, he just wiggles with excitement! “Yes! I get to play with Mommy!” As I look into the two sparkling blue eyes and his toothy grin (with his tongue sticking out) I can't resist giving him a kiss on each plump cheek and a nibble under his chin in just the spot where he especially likes it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is such a precious time together. Mother and son so attuned to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my husband but also cherish these moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;“Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?” (Ecclesiastes 4:11)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR2SHEz4QI/AAAAAAAAADc/30Y1jbJEiJ4/s1600-h/DSC02227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR2SHEz4QI/AAAAAAAAADc/30Y1jbJEiJ4/s400/DSC02227.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342525111477199106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-5389561244826813953?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5389561244826813953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/but-how-can-one-be-warm-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5389561244826813953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5389561244826813953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/but-how-can-one-be-warm-alone.html' title='&quot;But how can one be warm alone?&quot;'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR2SHEz4QI/AAAAAAAAADc/30Y1jbJEiJ4/s72-c/DSC02227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-6036048529415109300</id><published>2009-05-30T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T17:39:02.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Time to be Quiet</title><content type='html'>I think I must be a winter blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter is the time to slow down and reflect. Spend time cozily indoors thinking about things and having the time to write those thoughts down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment summer weather starts then it is a pity to be indoors quietly thinking, one needs to be outdoors- doing things and going places! Summer is the time for action! Go, go, GO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My baby is napping right now, so as I sit by the window looking out at the sunshine I have time to pause, reflect and type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we will go swimming with some friends and walk to the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But right now is a good time to sip some tea, nibble on a cookie and take a few deep breaths. It is good to relax. Not to worry about the housework (it helps that I am not home at the moment), but just sit for a quiet moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a lot of thoughts in my head. Now is a good time to sort them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a good time just to be quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR0hUezi6I/AAAAAAAAADU/OjCWWQbXSRg/s1600-h/DSC02325.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR0hUezi6I/AAAAAAAAADU/OjCWWQbXSRg/s400/DSC02325.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342523173750672290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-6036048529415109300?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6036048529415109300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-to-be-quiet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6036048529415109300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6036048529415109300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-to-be-quiet.html' title='A Time to be Quiet'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SiR0hUezi6I/AAAAAAAAADU/OjCWWQbXSRg/s72-c/DSC02325.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-1343781478941850483</id><published>2009-05-07T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:14:08.899-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Bumper Stickers</title><content type='html'>The other day, while driving to an appointment, I was at one of those traffic lights that take forever to change. So I had plenty of time to examine the back of the car in front of me and right away had a strong feeling that the occupant of that vehicle loved the university from which he/she had graduated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a large sticker on the back window, to a silver emblem on the trunk, to the license plate cover, to the bumper stickers (yes, plural- at least three) - this person left no doubt in ones mind about not only where he/she had graduated but that the university was part of his/her identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The type of car we choose often indicates what type of person we are, but the personalization of that car shows what one considers important in our lives. So important that one feels compelled to make a statement about it to the whole wide world (or at least to the cars that share the roads with you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Political stickers, rude stickers, happy stickers, angry stickers, religious stickers, “I love my dog/my cat/my car/golf/cycling” stickers, “my kid is an honor student” stickers, baseball stickers, soccer stickers, football stickers. There are bumper stickers for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you are a British golfer, who likes to sail, owns a german shepherd and votes republican- you can let everyone who looks at your car know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have pet fish, but don’t feel compelled to tell the world that I love them.&lt;br /&gt;I like to paint, but I don’t feel like it is an important part of my identity.&lt;br /&gt;I think my kid is smart, but when he graduates from university at the age of 12, I won’t feel compelled to proclaim that on the back of my car (but that might change, as he is only 7 months old right now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was sitting at that traffic light for what I was sure was almost half and hour &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(it has a vindictive sense of humor and always knows when I am running late)&lt;/span&gt;, I thought about what I have on the back of my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a sticker that says “Christ is coming to reign on the earth, are you ready?” and one of those diamond shaped signs that say “Baby on board!”&lt;br /&gt;They both serve as a reminder to be careful about my driving. The first one because it reminds me that I am a witness to my faith and the second because I have precious cargo on board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now following this train of thought about bumper stickers showing what I find important about my identity, I thought it was very revealing. Yes, my faith and my family are the two most important things in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This thought suddenly put my life back into focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my faith and my family are the two most important things in my life, do my thoughts, actions and decisions reflect that? In amongst the hussle and bussle of life other things had been crowding in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glancing at the rear-view mirror I could see a little chubby face staring back at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thank you God for reminding me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light turned green and I started to drive, but now it wasn’t only my car that reflected what is important to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It changed my whole attitude that day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-1343781478941850483?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1343781478941850483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/other-day-while-driving-to-appointment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1343781478941850483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/1343781478941850483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/other-day-while-driving-to-appointment.html' title='Bumper Stickers'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-305625940696571844</id><published>2009-04-22T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:16:20.772-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>God's Opinion</title><content type='html'>Even those of us (like me) who do not watch beauty pageants or read celebrity magazines could have missed the outrage about the controversial answer that Miss California gave at the Miss USA pageant this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were asked your opinion about gay marriage would you have said that you did not agree with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you say that in front of a crowd of people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you have said that on national television?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you have said it even though it meant that, in one moment, it made void everything you had been working on for months (if not years)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did it without hesitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said it with conviction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I would have the strength to do the same!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to pass up any opportunity to preach God’s word and to firmly stand by his commands when questioned. To say firmly to the world: "This is God's opinion and it is mine too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's opinion about homosexuality:&lt;br /&gt;  "For this reason God gave them up to vile passions. For even their women exchanged the natural use for what is against nature. Likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;burned in their lust for one another&lt;/span&gt;, men with men committing what is shameful, and r&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;eceiving in themselves the penalty of their error which was due&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;  —Romans 1:26-27 (NKJV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nor homosexuals, nor sodomites&lt;/span&gt;, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;inherit the kingdom of God.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;  —1 Corinthians 6:9-10 (NKJV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Knowing this: that the law is not made for a righteous person, but for the lawless and insubordinate, for the ungodly and for sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for fornicators, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for sodomites&lt;/span&gt;, for kidnappers, for liars, for perjurers, and if there is any other thing that is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;contrary to sound doctrine&lt;/span&gt;,"&lt;br /&gt;  —1 Timothy 1:9-10 (NKJV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making gay marriage legal is the same as if the law openly endorsed murder, extortion or lying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one switched the words "gay marriage" for anything else that God hates, most people would not have a problem with it. There would be no controversy on such topics such as murder or extortion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But God does not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; hate homosexuality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gay marriage is not the only thing people take pride in while disobeying God. People can boast about how many people they had slept with, or how much money they had received from "working under the table."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gay pride is an easy one to pick on because it is such an easy one to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how many times in a day do we lie? Or get angry? Or gossip?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Any form of sin separates us from God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't continue in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God does not want us to continue in sin but instead wants us to change our hearts so that grace may abound.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-305625940696571844?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/305625940696571844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/gods-opinion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/305625940696571844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/305625940696571844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/gods-opinion.html' title='God&apos;s Opinion'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2148046243876814610</id><published>2009-04-20T09:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:16:43.160-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>The mind is not only filled with black bags tied up with string, but also happy memories, peaceful thoughts, warm feelings and of course hope.&lt;br /&gt;The reading of God’s word has never been so important as at the times when one does some deep self examination. It not only helps one be more thorough but also, at the end, gives one hope.&lt;br /&gt;That black bag of sad thoughts is not the end. It is part of the process. It will always be there to serve as a reminder of the weakness of flesh. But it is not there to overwhelm me.&lt;br /&gt;It is always good to think about our hope. Know that God has forgiven me. Know that the past is unchanged but that God has given me an opportunity to do better now.&lt;br /&gt;Away with the self centered thoughts!&lt;br /&gt;Forward march!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2148046243876814610?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2148046243876814610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/hope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2148046243876814610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2148046243876814610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7930109703989243965</id><published>2009-04-18T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:19:39.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Black Bag</title><content type='html'>For far too long I had &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a bag of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;unresolved emotional thoughts and feelings&lt;/span&gt;. It wasn’t a large backpack that the world could see but rather &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;like a heavy, black draw-string bag in my head&lt;/span&gt;. A bag that I could ignore, and that no one else would notice. But it was still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it effected how the rest of me functioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week I have been working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to get rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As most of it’s contents are the type that doesn’t go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sort through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://laundry.applied.org.uk/drawstring_backpack.htm"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 189px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SeobRxgrn_I/AAAAAAAAACU/EuGKcepdOsw/s200/Black+Bag+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326099501481172978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kind of like I reached a hand inside of my head and brought that heavy bag out, untied the large knot, and then slowly opened it up -scared about what I would find inside- and then started to sift through its contents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I knew roughly what it contained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the one who had stuffed everything in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shoving as much as I could into it before quickly drawing it closed and tying the knot -all that time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because some of it I had tried so very hard to hide from even myself, I know that the bag may hold some nasty surprises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a lot of ugly things in that bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Very ugly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truths about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truths about what I am really like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truths that because of what I did (because of who I am) has caused such horrible things to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is another ugly thing that is inside this bag:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Guilt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It actually fills up a lot of the bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horrible guilt of things I did but also of things that I didn’t do. Things I should have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sort through the bag I try to look at each object straight on. Staring at each facet of the objects so that I can do away with the lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So many lies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lies had for the longest time hidden some of the darker contents of the bag so that they looked prettier and much more acceptable (at least from a distance). But once you get up close to them and turn them over, the lies are not only very ugly but have a corrosive aspect to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I found them, their stench made me reel back from the bag, I didn’t want to deal with them. I had to put the bag down for a moment and gasp for some fresh air. But I went back with even stronger resolve. I was determined to go through that bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This bag has been sitting there for far too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are still some dark corners of the bag that I haven’t gone through. In some ways I don’t think I am ready for it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now the bag doesn’t seem as scary to me now that I have opened it, looked inside and started to sort through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was relieved to be able to throw some stuff out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of it was difficult and very painful to pry loose and which I was eager to throw out once I had extracted it, but some I had to force myself to throw out as I knew that they didn't truly belong in the bag even though I wanted them to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was especially glad to get rid of some of the lies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still think there are some lies I didn't find, but I am glad that I did deal with the ones that I did find. Some of the ones that I did work through did leave some small messy residual aspects of themselves behind, but over time I am sure I can get rid of those as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By getting rid of some of the lies, it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;allowed me to have a better look at all the guilt&lt;/span&gt;. Some of them were a lot bigger and uglier than what I had anticipated, but at least I have a better idea of how they looked like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;forced me to look at myself with a little more honesty&lt;/span&gt;. So now I have some things I can work on even after I closed up the bag again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a horrible task. But it was good that I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the bag is a little bit lighter, and will hopefully be a little easier to open the next time I want to look inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And hopefully I am a better person for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7930109703989243965?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7930109703989243965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/black-bag.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7930109703989243965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7930109703989243965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/black-bag.html' title='The Black Bag'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SeobRxgrn_I/AAAAAAAAACU/EuGKcepdOsw/s72-c/Black+Bag+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-5429109825153960944</id><published>2009-04-13T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T08:48:34.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A VERY Offensive Advertisement</title><content type='html'>I found this advertisement so offensive I HAD to share it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is kind of like when someone takes a bite of something, pulls a face and then tries to pass it to you with the words: “this is SO gross! Here try it!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Is is SO offensive! - Here, look at it!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePECIRNCmI/AAAAAAAAABc/w7WVgTScx0o/s1600-h/Ad+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePECIRNCmI/AAAAAAAAABc/w7WVgTScx0o/s320/Ad+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324314725340482146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It showed up on my Facebook page as an ad on the side and I felt so strongly about this that I immediately clicked the button with the thumbs-down symbol, and when asked to give a reason why I felt this way I checked the box next to the word “offensive”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I just pass by the ads including the ones with the girls in their underwear or “R” rated movies- without even bothering to look at them twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But not this ad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so offensive in just so many levels that I am sure I am not the only one who feels this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact I think the ONLY person who would NOT find this offensive is a chain-smoking agnostic without any children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets pick on the smoking first..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePLnc4297I/AAAAAAAAAB8/5cQTjaMKOAM/s1600-h/Smoking+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 132px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePLnc4297I/AAAAAAAAAB8/5cQTjaMKOAM/s320/Smoking+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324323063112071090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone with children would find this advertisement offensive&lt;/span&gt; on just that point.&lt;br /&gt;My mother received this same ad as a flyer in her mail and now imagine that it wasn’t her who collected the mail but her imaginary eight-year-old daughter. The little girl would take one look at it and then go to her mother and ask “Mommy, why is the man dressed up as a bunny smoking a cigarette?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Easter bunnies are not geared at adults.&lt;/span&gt; I have never seen a forty-year old woman become all excited when she sees the Easter bunny. Am I not right in assuming that any normal mother who is trying to teach her children not to smoke “death sticks” would find this offensive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think the targeted audience, Christians, would find this ad &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; offensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;At least I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don’t even celebrate Easter&lt;/span&gt; (which is a separate topic in itself).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most offensive part of the whole ad for me is the last sentence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePKDlTPC_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/PGl0g1UzObQ/s1600-h/Come+As+You+Are.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePKDlTPC_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/PGl0g1UzObQ/s320/Come+As+You+Are.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324321347383266290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If this is not blasphemy then what is??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am not even going to enter into the debate about how one should dress when coming before God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;First, it is the absolute &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;arrogance&lt;/span&gt; of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attitude of "don’t even bother to prepare yourself when you meet your God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it is the second blasphemy of the idea of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God meeting us at our level&lt;/span&gt;: “that’s WHERE God meets us.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is not what he does!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalms 24:3-6&lt;br /&gt;“Who shall ascend into the hill of YHWH? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God does not go down to our level.&lt;/span&gt; He does not need to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, WE have to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; and reach up to God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go to God! NOT the other way round!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does not meet us at our terms. But on HIS terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ex 19:17&lt;br /&gt;“Then Moses led the people OUT of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God wants all us sinners to come to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He wants us to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;repent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only reference I could find that said that God would meet sinful man is in the context of the people making burnt offerings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ex 29:42&lt;br /&gt;"For the generations to come this &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;burnt offering is to be made regularly&lt;/span&gt; at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting before the Lord. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There I will meet you&lt;/span&gt; and speak to you;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ONLY&lt;/span&gt; way God will meet us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps 51:14-17&lt;br /&gt;“Save me from bloodguilt, O God, the God who saves me, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart&lt;/span&gt;, O God, you will not despise”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-5429109825153960944?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5429109825153960944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/very-offensive-advertisment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5429109825153960944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5429109825153960944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/very-offensive-advertisment.html' title='A VERY Offensive Advertisement'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/SePECIRNCmI/AAAAAAAAABc/w7WVgTScx0o/s72-c/Ad+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-2275536099003399406</id><published>2009-04-10T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:25:37.880-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>My Baby is Better Than Yours!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-8vF_9R9I/AAAAAAAAABU/8CSK_Wxt22o/s1600-h/DSC09888.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-8vF_9R9I/AAAAAAAAABU/8CSK_Wxt22o/s320/DSC09888.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323180801825523666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It started out when we were old enough to compare our piece of the chocolate cake to the one given to the child next to us, then it was your grade at school compared to another child’s grade, your art work compared to someone else’s, your body shape compared to someone else’s, your wedding compared to someone else’s and now (at least for me) it is my child compared to everyone else's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I didn’t realize at first that it was what I was doing until I realized &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was becoming &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dissatisfied&lt;/span&gt; with my own baby&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is he not as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;friendly&lt;/span&gt; as other babies? Why is he not sleeping/eating/sitting/growing as well as the other babies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But then I realized that there was also the other side of it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Consoling myself with the thought that "at least my baby has a tooth", or thinking that "my baby may not make friends with everyone he meets, but at least he is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;smart&lt;/span&gt;" were not good thoughts either!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;attitude of comparison is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; what God wants in us&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;“For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves: but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.” (1 Cor. 10:12)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is not wise to do it in our spiritual lives (except to compare ourselves to Christ!) and it is definitely not a good idea to do it about the things of this world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Instead I should focus on how to raise my child in God’s way. Seeing only flaws in him as compared to scripture and reminding myself that I should &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;praise and thank God &lt;/span&gt;for each good thing that I see in my little boy. From his little tooth, to his shy smile, to his dimpled fingers, thank you God for my little boy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-2275536099003399406?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2275536099003399406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/it-started-out-when-we-were-old-enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2275536099003399406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/2275536099003399406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/it-started-out-when-we-were-old-enough.html' title='My Baby is Better Than Yours!'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-8vF_9R9I/AAAAAAAAABU/8CSK_Wxt22o/s72-c/DSC09888.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8411899788722350576</id><published>2009-04-10T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:00:11.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pick carefully to whom we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; share our thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is good to&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;carefully choose those with whom we share our most personal thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only because of Delilahs who may &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;use the information against us&lt;/span&gt;. (Judges 16)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or because of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;talebearers &lt;/span&gt;who blab our thoughts to the world:&lt;br /&gt;“He who goes about as a talebearer reveals secrets, But he who is trustworthy conceals a matter.” (Proverbs 11:13-  KJV)&lt;br /&gt;The NIV says it even more pointedly: “A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also many scriptural examples of being &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;given bad advice&lt;/span&gt; by those with whom we share our problems:&lt;br /&gt;“The righteous is a guide to his neighbor, But the way of the wicked leads them astray.” (Proverbs 12:26)&lt;br /&gt;The best example of this is Amnon and his friend Jonadab. Jonadab was a good friend in that he noticed when Amnon was depressed, but he was not a person with whom you shared your secrets! He gave &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;VERY&lt;/span&gt; bad advice!&lt;br /&gt;“But Amnon had a friend whose name was Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David's brother; and Jonadab was a very shrewd man. He said to him, "O son of the king, why are you so depressed morning after morning? Will you not tell me?"&lt;br /&gt;Then Amnon said to him, "I am in love with Tamar, the sister of my brother Absalom."&lt;br /&gt;Jonadab then said to him, "Lie down on your bed and pretend to be ill; when your father comes to see you, say to him, 'Please let my sister Tamar come and give me some food to eat, and let her prepare the food in my sight, that I may see it and eat from her hand.' " (2 Samuel 13)&lt;br /&gt;..as I said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; bad advice - but it was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; what Amnon wanted to hear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-pmfZvu9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZitngHWwPAI/s1600-h/DSC08270.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-pmfZvu9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZitngHWwPAI/s320/DSC08270.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323159763304823762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It is GOOD to share..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we have someone with whom we share our inner most thoughts we realize how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; it is to get those thoughts out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes our darkest and most disturbing thoughts can fester and grow in strange ways in our minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” (James 5:16)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes once the thoughts are spoken one can look at them from a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new perspective&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ was very good at not only listening to people but also putting a new perspective on what they were thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;By sharing our thoughts we may also find that we are&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (1 Cor. 10:13)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verse speaks of temptations but the same is true for trials, or problems. It is surprising sometimes to find out how many share the same feelings and thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even if the people with whom we are sharing our thoughts have never had the same experiences or thoughts, they might just give much needed &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;encouragement and support&lt;/span&gt; that we may not even realize that we needed. “And Jonathan Saul's son arose, and went to David into the wood, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;strengthened his hand in God&lt;/span&gt;.” (1 Sam 23:16)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It is humbling..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharing ones true thoughts can be very humbling. We may not want people to know exactly what is going on in our minds, or we may actually be proud of the fact that we are so different from others that “no one” will be able to understand (like Elijah felt in 1 Kings 19:9-18).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it is important to let go and speak. For even though it is not good to share all our thoughts with everyone, it is also not good to keep them all inside our heads.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8411899788722350576?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8411899788722350576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/sharing-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8411899788722350576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8411899788722350576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/sharing-thoughts.html' title='Sharing Thoughts'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-pmfZvu9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZitngHWwPAI/s72-c/DSC08270.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-7148641414736512032</id><published>2009-04-07T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:24:53.973-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>"Are you Listening?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-t9xIC7OI/AAAAAAAAABE/In1I-7GH-0k/s1600-h/DSC09538.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-t9xIC7OI/AAAAAAAAABE/In1I-7GH-0k/s320/DSC09538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323164561245924578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday we were doing the Bible readings in Proverbs 13 with a couple of friends, and found that it tied in perfectly with what we had been talking about just moments before about how important it is to discipline our children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verse in Proverbs was: “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; loveth&lt;/span&gt; him chasteneth him betimes.”&lt;br /&gt;(Proverbs 13:24)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We laughed at the coincidence and looked up other references that spoke about correction being done out of love for the child. It turned out to be a very fruitful discussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the very next day this point was reinforced in the most dramatic way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family and I had gone to a charming little tourist town in our area where we enjoyed the warm sunshine, ice-cream cones and exploring all the delightful stores that are there (especially the book store!). On the way back to our car we were walking behind a large family of aunts and uncles, grandmas and cousins... and one little brown haired girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This little girl did not listen to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;anybody&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When her parents told her to stay with them, she would run ahead. When her grandmother tried to cajole her to hold her hand, the little girl tried to walk in the road. When her uncle asked if she wanted to ride on his shoulders, she wanted to climb up some stairs. Then, when she was told that they were not going up the stairs and to stay on the sidewalk, she stuck out her bottom lip and walked in the parking lot next to the side walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the grandmother who spotted the danger first. She called out to the girl. Then the girl’s mother saw it and cried out to her in fright. The little girl’s father ordered her to come to them. There was fear in their voices and panic in their hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the little girl turned her head and asked them "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She hadn’t seen the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the very last moment, just as it seemed that the worst was going to happen, the driver in the car saw &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt; and slammed on his breaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parents were powerless to help their child, because she did not respect them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why should she listen to them? She would much rather do what she wanted to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We teach our children to listen to us because we love them. So that we can keep them safe and happy. We also teach them to listen to us so that they will learn to listen to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a verse in Proverbs puts it:&lt;br /&gt;“Chasten thy son &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;while there is hope&lt;/span&gt;, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.”&lt;br /&gt;(Proverbs 19:18 - KJV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or as the NASB puts it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Discipline your son while there is hope, And do &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; desire his death.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To listen to God is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now these are the commandments, the statutes, and the judgments, which YHWH your God commanded to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;each you, that ye might do them in the land whither ye go to possess it: That thou mightest &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fear YHWH thy God&lt;/span&gt;, to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;keep all his statutes and his commandments&lt;/span&gt;, which I command thee, thou, and thy son, and thy son's son, all the days of thy life; and that thy days may be prolonged.”     (Deut 6:1-2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to teach our children to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But are WE listening to our Father?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verse in Deuteronomy that is quoted above says that we need to listen and do as he commands.. and then teach it to our children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God could very well ask us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; listening?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-7148641414736512032?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7148641414736512032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/are-you-listening.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7148641414736512032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/7148641414736512032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/are-you-listening.html' title='&quot;Are you Listening?&quot;'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-t9xIC7OI/AAAAAAAAABE/In1I-7GH-0k/s72-c/DSC09538.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-391366120220722155</id><published>2009-03-23T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T13:33:54.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Refreshed!</title><content type='html'>Last weekend was just what I needed. I am incredibly tired in the body but re-energized in the spirit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classes were excellent. There is so much that we can learn from the story of Gideon. From putting our trust in God, to choosing our friends (pick Phurah!), there were  many lessons to apply to our lives, as well as the amazing scriptural links that reminds one of just how amazing God's word is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also nice to spend some time with brethren and sisters that I have not seen for a while. But, as is always true at these weekends, you realize you didn't have a chance to talk to half the people you wanted to talk to! Not enough time! Can't wait for Bible school now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-qzWyzHfI/AAAAAAAAAA8/tyJSaADmCek/s1600-h/DSC08650.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-qzWyzHfI/AAAAAAAAAA8/tyJSaADmCek/s320/DSC08650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323161083843911154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little Munchkin was very well behaved, so I was able to listen to most of the classes, but as I was not able to write notes very easily, I realized afterwards that I was rapidly forgetting all the interesting points and connections that were made! So on the way home I tried to write down as much as I could.. and now want to go through my husband's notes. It is so frustrating how much like a sieve our minds are!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-391366120220722155?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/391366120220722155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/last-weekend-was-just-what-i-needed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/391366120220722155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/391366120220722155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/last-weekend-was-just-what-i-needed.html' title='Refreshed!'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-qzWyzHfI/AAAAAAAAAA8/tyJSaADmCek/s72-c/DSC08650.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-6678194072838686402</id><published>2009-03-20T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T16:15:41.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moody Trees</title><content type='html'>Today is a restless and moody day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is because of the weather, as it is overcast and windy. The wind is moaning around my windows and making the trees move uneasily, as if troubled by sad thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they are wondering why they should go through the effort of growing leaves now that spring is here.  Maybe wondering who would care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody seems to pay any attention to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they think that maybe the change would be good. Something to brighten things up a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then wonder if it is really worth the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just takes so much energy just to stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it brightens up their day when a little bird lands on their branches. It probably makes them feel less isolated and gives them the feeling of being useful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What they really should do is reach out instead of just passively standing there, waiting to see what life will throw at them next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really excited to go visit my sister this weekend. A youth weekend with my friends and amazing bible studies are just what I need right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who else besides Ways of Zion is effected by the weather?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-6678194072838686402?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6678194072838686402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/moody-trees.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6678194072838686402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6678194072838686402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/moody-trees.html' title='Moody Trees'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8222477880752137229</id><published>2009-03-19T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T12:37:10.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of an EXcluder</title><content type='html'>So, after all my resolutions to be INcluding rather then EXcluding, I did exactly that which I had just spoken against so eloquently,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My flesh desperately wants to justify my actions! I have a very good reason why I did it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But... the honest truth is that there is no excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did it without thinking. I didn’t do it on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what lame reasoning is that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8222477880752137229?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8222477880752137229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/confessions-of-excluder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8222477880752137229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8222477880752137229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/confessions-of-excluder.html' title='Confessions of an EXcluder'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-8519549900926554634</id><published>2009-03-18T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:22:51.605-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Ariel vs Little Mermaid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is in a name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six months ago, at my baby shower, my mother prayed that my little one would know the difference between Ariel (from “The Little Mermaid”) and Ariel (she pronounced the Hebraic way which sounds more like Ari-al). She was comparing our hope for Jerusalem (Ariel is one of the names for Jerusalem), and a Walt Disney character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time of the baby shower, I was convinced that my little boy was a girl, which is one of the reasons why she mentioned Ariel. But there were more reasons then just that and the obvious play on words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was asked by someone who had attended my baby shower if my mother hated the “Little Mermaid” and referred to the prayer she had given. She was half joking but I realized she really wanted an answer. I was surprised that she had remembered (as it was from half a year ago), and stumbled out an inadequate reply (as I had not expected the question). This is more or less (more on the less side) what I told her:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Disrespecting Little Mermaid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The honest truth is that, yes, my mother does not like the movie “The Little Mermaid.” As there were people in the room at the time I was asked the question who grew up loving her and there are probably people reading this right now who love her too (http://www.littleariel.com/) I had to preface my comment with the words something along the lines of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Little Mermaid lovers, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may just be a good thing that my blog site doesn’t have my mailing address..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More seriously now, this blog is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; an Ariel-Bashingfest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, as a side note, my mother does not like “The Little Mermaid” because of her blatant disrespectful attitude to her father. One can argue that Tritan was “old fashioned” and that Arial HAD to behave in the way she does to him, just so that he would listen. But this flies in the face of verses such as “Ye shall fear every man his mother, and his father” and “Honour thy father and thy mother, as YHWH thy God hath commanded thee.” (Lev 19:3, Deut 5:16)&lt;br /&gt;If I had spoken in such a fashion to my parents I would have been in BIG trouble. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If a child does not learn to respect his parents that are here on this earth, how will he learn to respect the father that he cannot see?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What my real point was (and the main point that my mother was making) is making a comparison with what one &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CAN&lt;/span&gt; fill a little child’s mind with, and what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SHOULD&lt;/span&gt; fill a little child’s mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So What Should Fill a Child’s Mind&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents can decide to fill their children’s minds with the things of this world, it’s philosophies and dogmas (which often fly in the face of God’s word) thinly veiled with sugar icing (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who doesn’t like sugar icing??&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or they can decide to fill their minds with the things that God loves. Making such people as David and Joshua their heros, and stories such as Esther and Ruth the ones that they want to hear over and over and over again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once children develop a taste for the one it will make it that much more difficult to develop a taste for the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What better thing can a child crave then the kingdom of God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-ypjD47tI/AAAAAAAAABM/SPHTF5BEWvA/s1600-h/DSC09979.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-ypjD47tI/AAAAAAAAABM/SPHTF5BEWvA/s320/DSC09979.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323169711431151314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-8519549900926554634?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8519549900926554634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/ariel-vs-little-mermaid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8519549900926554634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/8519549900926554634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/ariel-vs-little-mermaid.html' title='Ariel vs Little Mermaid'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kd1vijCzilI/Sd-ypjD47tI/AAAAAAAAABM/SPHTF5BEWvA/s72-c/DSC09979.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-4476375362847805250</id><published>2009-03-17T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:22:30.321-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Breastfeeding'/><title type='text'>Modestly Breast-feeding</title><content type='html'>I, who rarely wear shorts except with my one-piece-swimsuit, who doesn’t feel comfortable wearing tank tops, and whose cleavage (never mind belly button!) has never seen sunlight, breast-feed my baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depending on the company I will often try leave the room to feed my child in privacy. This is certainly my preferred way to breast-feed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life goes on. Finding a private (and sanitary!) place to feed is sometimes impossible or not expedient and so I have now breastfed (with a covering of course) while talking  to men (while inwardly writhing with embarrassment), breastfed while sitting beside a busy road (valiantly ignoring all the curious looks from passing traffic), and breastfed in restaurants (smiling sweetly at the waitress as she gives me weird looks while taking my order).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But despite all the embarrassment I am glad that I have persevered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breastfeeding is for me one of the sweetest and most intimate times that I have with my baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-4476375362847805250?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4476375362847805250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/modestly-breast-feeding.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/4476375362847805250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/4476375362847805250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/modestly-breast-feeding.html' title='Modestly Breast-feeding'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-5332169263186343996</id><published>2009-03-16T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T15:27:03.120-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Raising Children'/><title type='text'>Who is #1?</title><content type='html'>The other day a kindly, warm-hearted woman told me that especially for the first year of a child's life, he (my five-month-old baby boy) will be the center of our life. Everything will revolve around him as he is number one in our household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first reaction was "WHAT?!?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward I realized that I could have possibly stated my opinion just a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; less forcibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I completely disagreed with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don’t get me wrong, babies do effect what you can and can not do as far as safety issues are concerned. So, no you can not take your baby hang-gliding, white-water rafting, or swimming with sharks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also take up a lot more of your time and energy (so that project that used to only take an hour or two will now take a couple of months or possibly even years to complete).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as far as living a normal life.. I don’t think a baby should be allowed to change things that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say “should be allowed to” as it is the parents’ choice. Parents can choose how much say their child has in family decision making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is especially true with things that involve our spiritual lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cute little pink ball of flesh should NOT be ruler of our home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is our Focus?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skipping Bible class so that he can keep his sleep schedule, missing Sunday school as it will otherwise be too long of a day for him, or any other excuse that pleads that doing the work of God will disrupt the baby’s life is, in my opinion, being very short sighted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, for the first couple of months the mother will not get very much out of the classes as she sits in the nursery (or in the drafty hallway if there is no nursery), but there is a lot more at stake here then just comfort or instant personal gratification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the baby is going to hate being forced to get up early on Sunday mornings, and will get cranky towards the end of Wednesday evenings, but we are thinking beyond the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Big Picture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The most important routine we can instill in our children is that the time around God’s word is of utmost importance in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By example we are teaching our child from a young age the life lesson that one has to make personal sacrifices for God and His work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To balance out the sacrifice there are also good things that happen when we focus our family’s life around God and His house. One of the best being the friendships that are developed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our children, from a young age, will start creating friendships with those who are being raised in the household of God. Starting out with the sharing of slobbery toys and squealing together, these friendships are potentially eternal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By making the opportunities to spend time with those who share the same hope it also gives mothers the opportunity to strengthen each other and help each other through the ups and downs of raising God’s heritage. Sharing stories, commiserating and giving each other tips, some of the best advice I got was not from outside sources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my household our child is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; number one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; is the center of our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May our son always know this to be true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-5332169263186343996?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5332169263186343996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-is-1.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5332169263186343996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/5332169263186343996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-is-1.html' title='Who is #1?'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2261849287212916839.post-6260339008901247962</id><published>2009-03-16T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T10:21:43.711-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Lessons'/><title type='text'>Exclusion</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been part of a conversation where you are left with the strong feeling of being deliberately excluded?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inside joke is an obvious one. You see the glances and then the laughter and know that it is pointless to ask what was so funny, as the standard reply is "oh, sorry, it's nothing" and then they laugh some more. At this point your options are either to laugh weakly and act as if you know what is going on, or to pretend as if it doesn't bother you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are the more subtle ones where someone will mention an event and you catch the words "we" and "all of us" but then realize that you were never invited. If you don't catch on right away, and start to get all excited about going, they will then realize their mistake and change the pro-nouns or be even more specific by naming all those who are invited (which does not include you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also the times where they will talk of "everyone" being invited but realize that you are not "everyone" as you don't have something that is needed for the activity (and you know that they know it). For example "everyone" is invited to go horse back riding (but you don't own a horse), or "everyone" should wear tie-dyed shirts (when they know you don't have one).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are in a group of friends and someone makes a reference to something that reminds you of the time that you and your friend did that funny thing and can't resist reminding your friend about it. Then when you see the blank expressions of those who don't know the story, it just cracks you up even more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or you are in a conversation with a group of people and you and your friends have already made plans to go do something and as you are talking about it you realize that someone in the group got the impression that they are also coming. Even though you would love that person to go, you realize there is not enough space in the car for them, and so try move the conversation on to something else so that you don't hurt their feelings. Only afterwards do you admit to yourself that you didn't really want that person to come along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are those times where you invite everyone to go swimming at the pool and only at the pool remember with feeling of sinking realization that one of the people that was part of the group is not there because they can not swim... and is in fact afraid of the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exclusion is hurtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all hate it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet we all do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just so easy to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do it out of selfishness or thoughtlessness, which is inexcusable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week reach out and try find someone that you can INclude into your group!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2261849287212916839-6260339008901247962?l=plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6260339008901247962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/exclusion.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6260339008901247962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2261849287212916839/posts/default/6260339008901247962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://plantedinthehouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/exclusion.html' title='Exclusion'/><author><name>Mother By the River</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05947772587173320123</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
