<?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-1678535534511529724</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:56:37.931-07:00</updated><category term='mcfly'/><category term='movies'/><title type='text'>Proverbs15.5</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-3334647151670388410</id><published>2010-05-20T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T23:52:21.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Real Love Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_YnFCvMV4I/AAAAAAAAACU/9tHus-9Gjnw/s1600/rose1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_YnFCvMV4I/AAAAAAAAACU/9tHus-9Gjnw/s200/rose1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473605364703057794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Do you remember the first time you were given a rose? So simple, so beautiful. Wasn't your first inclination to slowly lean down, breathe in and savor the aroma? That heavenly, sweet smell  wafted the message that said "you are someone special."&lt;br /&gt;  That's exactly how I felt the first time I heard worship music.&lt;br /&gt;  I had gone with a friend to a "New Year's  Eve Jubilation" at Knott's Berry Farm. It was December 1975 at the height of the Jesus Movement. The bands on the bill that night were Mustard Seed Faith, Daniel Amos, Debby &amp;amp; Ernie and Love Song.&lt;br /&gt;      Coming from a Catholic background, the only "church music" I had ever heard was "Ave Maria," played at my grandmother's funeral, and an occasional Latin chorus sung during Mass. I wasn't saved and I had no idea that one could sing praises to the Lord. My heart was changed by what I heard that evening. Jesus gave me the first of many roses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     That cold night, with every tender phrase sung by Love Song, Mustard Seed Faith and the rest of those young musicians, I drew a little closer to Christ. I felt His presence, like a blanket, around me and I heard Him whispering, "I love you my child."&lt;br /&gt;   I found myself closing my eyes and just taking in the sweetness of that assurance-like breathing in and savoring the fragrance of a rose.&lt;br /&gt;     I couldn't wait to buy the records by each of the bands I had heard . I bought albums by Love Song and Mustard Seed Faith and I played them over and over again. Each time I heard those songs, I was comforted by the peace that passes all understanding. I felt special-singled out- and I took it all in. Ahhhh, Roses!&lt;br /&gt;     Thirty-five years later, I've learned that our Lord is an incurable  romantic. He constantly sends me "roses" at the most unexpected moments; a friend's warm encouragement, a customer's sincere thank you, my husband's smile or the laughter of my children. All simple, yet fragrant reminders of how much He  loves me.&lt;br /&gt;      Last night, the band Love Song played at our church as part of their reunion  tour. I smiled as I sat and listened to them once again. Softly, the Lord took me back to  that cold night 35 years ago when my heart first learned to praise Him.&lt;br /&gt;  "Remember?," He asked. "Yes, Lord," I replied, "I remember that night.  It was the first time you told me you loved me."&lt;br /&gt;   "No, daughter," Jesus said, "it was the first time you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heard&lt;/span&gt; me."&lt;br /&gt;     He was right. And I took it in like the sweet aroma of that very first  rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;"I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                                                                                                                Jeremiah 31:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="width: 686px; height: 20px;" id="table_bible" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr id="Jer_31_3_776003"&gt;&lt;td class="vRefa"&gt;&lt;span class="nowrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table id="table_bible" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr id="Jer_31_3_776003"&gt;&lt;td class="vRefa"&gt;&lt;span class="nowrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;td class="vDispa"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty-five years later, I've learned that our Lord is an incurable romantic. He constantly sends me "roses" at the most unexpected times, for seemingly no reason at all. He simply reminds me of how much He loves me.&lt;br /&gt;Last night, the band Love Song played at our church as part of a reunion tour. I sat and listened to them again, and the Lord took me back to that cold night 35 years ago when my heart first learned to praise Him.&lt;br /&gt;"Remember?," He asked. "Yes, Lord," I replied, "I remember that night. It was the first time you told me you loved me."&lt;br /&gt;"No, daughter," Jesus said, "it was the first time you heard me."&lt;br /&gt;He was right. And I took it in like the sweet aroma of that very first rose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-3334647151670388410?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/3334647151670388410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=3334647151670388410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/3334647151670388410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/3334647151670388410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2010/05/real-love-song.html' title='A Real Love Song'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_YnFCvMV4I/AAAAAAAAACU/9tHus-9Gjnw/s72-c/rose1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-7504596485929648744</id><published>2009-12-14T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T00:08:16.222-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mcfly'/><title type='text'>You Oughta Be in Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/Syc8YhIuT3I/AAAAAAAAACM/Cf68cA38bvQ/s1600-h/backfuture_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/Syc8YhIuT3I/AAAAAAAAACM/Cf68cA38bvQ/s200/backfuture_l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415363468845797234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ever feel like you're in a movie? Something really strange or bizarre happens during the course of an otherwise ordinary day and you expect to hear someone yell "Cut!" from behind a camera. We've all been there before,right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Wednesday, I could have sworn I made cameos in &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3&lt;/span&gt; different films.  As I reprise my performances for you, I will change some names to protect the innocent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first stage call was around noon. The scene-The warm and greenly familiar Church Office. As I enjoyed the always pleasant company of my good buddy, Skywalker, the  Nativity sculpture at the office reception desk caught my attention. I boasted to Skywalker that I could tell what company manufactured the sculpture simply by the painting of the characters' eyes. "May I turn it over and see if I'm right, I asked?" Skywalker nodded.&lt;br /&gt;Everything from this point on happens in slow motion.&lt;br /&gt;As I turned the sculpture over, the angel hurtled off her (oops,his) perch and landed on the counter. God protected me and the figurine was not broken. "Whew," I said, "That was close. I'll just put her (I mean him) back on the hook."&lt;br /&gt;But, there was no hook!&lt;br /&gt;Only a gaping hole remained where the angel once held on. Skywalker looked panicked. "I won't tell, Chris!" she whispered loyally. All of a sudden, I was Lucy Ricardo&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;feverishly trying to rescue herself from yet another self-imposed jam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran to look for the only substance that would help me forget what I had done-Krazy Glue. I wondered what would become of me if I couldn't repair the fallen angel. Would I lose my job  again? Psalm 91 began to take on a whole new meaning-"He will give His angels charge over you." This particular angel had taken &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;complete &lt;/span&gt;charge of my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I struggled to re-attach the angel to the sculpture, but there were only had 2 drops of Krazy Glue&lt;br /&gt;in the old tube I had found and I had used those to stick my fingers together. "What Would Jesus Do?," I thought. I knew at once that I must confess my misdeed to the person in charge.&lt;br /&gt;I prayed for mercy as I marched into her office and apologetically recounted my story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did that thing fall off again?," she said. "I told Lily to fix it." (Insert laugh track here )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second role of the day was in an action/comedy. The scene was a direct rip-off of part of one of my favorite films, "Back to the Future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 2:30pm, I left the store and went to pick my kids up from Cerritos College. As I turned onto Alondra Boulevard, something in my rear view mirror distracted me. The car behind me was trying to pass me on the right despite the fact that I was in the outermost lane. "What's his trip?," I thought. Suddenly, he swerved into the lane next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Everything from this point on happens in slow motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car that was now behind me was skidding as if the driver was losing control of the vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;As I glanced at my rear view mirror, I couldn't believe my eyes. Perched on the open passenger window of the skidding car was a young, latino man with a shotgun aimed at the car next to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to cry out to God. "Help me Lord." I prayed and I wondered why this scene appeared so familiar to me. "It's exactly like when the Libyans were after Marty McFly!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking a cue from Marty himself, I floored it! But, instead of going back to 1955, I ended up in the Del Taco parking lot, catching my breath, thanking my Jesus and again, meditating on Psalm 91.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, I picked up the kids and as I told them of my Marty-esque experience, I was called to the movie set once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am really glad you're okay, Mom," my son said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue slow motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son's heartfelt sentiments were suddenly interrupted by the unnerving crunch of a car accident happening in front of us! No sooner had the traffic stopped, when the guilty driver sped away, and the owner of the damaged car took off in pursuit leaving a bumper and some headlight remnants behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to go home," I muttered wearily. "You almost did," said the Lord.&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You oughta be in pictures, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You’re wonderful to see, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You oughta be in pictures, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Oh what a hit you would be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so Lord. That would be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reel &lt;/span&gt;bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h1&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-7504596485929648744?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/7504596485929648744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=7504596485929648744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/7504596485929648744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/7504596485929648744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-oughta-be-in-pictures.html' title='You Oughta Be in Pictures'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/Syc8YhIuT3I/AAAAAAAAACM/Cf68cA38bvQ/s72-c/backfuture_l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-2047074364064588850</id><published>2009-07-20T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T13:41:58.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All Greek to Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;"In his hand is the life of every creature  and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;breath&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt; of all mankind." Job 12:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my  favorite movie scenes of all time occurs in the romantic comedy, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." In this particular moment of the film, Toula, the main character, is crushed at her father's refusal to allow her to expand her horizons by leaving the family's restaurant, "Dancing Zorba's". In classic maternal wisdom her mom gently explains to her that while the man may be the head of the family, "the woman is the neck; and the neck&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;turns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;the head." Mother then promises to "have a talk with Father."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our spirits have been crushed these last few days, the Lord has brought this film clip to my mind over and over again. In fact, while visiting my mother-in-law last Saturday, my husband stumbled upon the flick while flipping channels, reminding me of the "head and neck" principle. It was in that brief moment that a spiritual revelation enveloped me like a toga wrapped around Plato-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Perhaps prayer is the neck that turns the heads of those in authority over us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this week as we implore friends and family to "have a talk with Father," our desire, like Toula's, will be accomplished. Suddenly I have a hankering for some Feta cheese and Greek olives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;" Trust in the LORD and do good;  dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.Delight yourself in the LORD  and He will give you the desires of your heart.Commit your way to the LORD;  trust in Him and He will do this." Psalm 37:4-5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-2047074364064588850?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/2047074364064588850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=2047074364064588850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2047074364064588850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2047074364064588850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-all-greek-to-me.html' title='It&apos;s All Greek to Me'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-142678338608304138</id><published>2009-07-19T15:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T16:35:42.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Brief Holiday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Have you ever had perfect plans changed by happenstance? (Happenstance being a romantic sounding word for God's will of course)&lt;br /&gt;Last Wednesday afternoon I was driving down Carson street in Long Beach. It was a warm, clammy Southern California summer day around 3 pm. My kids were with me, the radio was playing an old rock classic from my younger days  and, as we puttered along in our non-air conditioned little car, a seed began to germinate in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;It might have been the hothouse atmosphere in the car;it could have been the hormonal imbalance in the blood coursing through my 51-year old veins. It was probably the devil himself.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever caused the sprouting of this plan, it sure seemed like a fantastic idea at the time,&lt;br /&gt;My daughter was talking to me about something, I'm not sure what, but I know it was some sort of problem she wanted me to fix. As she talked, I found that her words began to grow fainter and fainter, as if each syllable were being snatched by the July air breezing through the car windows. As her voice and the classic rock music faded into the background, I  found myself in another place and time-Thursday morning.&lt;br /&gt;In my mind's eye, I saw the calm sprawl of the California coastline. Cool, wet, salty and inviting. As my daughters inflections became more tense, the landscape in my head changed. Now, I was on that beach. I was strolling along barefoot, talking to the Lord, as the foam of the breaking waves tickled my toes. (My brain had mercy on me, I wasn't wearing a swimsuit. It was more like a carefree, loose-fitting sundress.) The seed had taken hold and was growing at a speedy pace-like those time-lapse pictures you see on the Home and Garden channel.&lt;br /&gt;"Tomorrow is Thursday," I thought to myself. "After I drop Jeffrey off at work, I'm going to the beach." The die was cast. As we pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, my only care on this earth was what sandy paradise I would hit and what color sundress would I buy? And then it happened. My cell phone rang.&lt;br /&gt;It was my beloved and he was very upset. His job (and mine for that matter) were in serious jeopardy. He was going to take Thursday off to calm down and gather his thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;As quickly as the idea of my AM reprieve had bloomed, it was now gone-weed-whacked away right at the head! I wiped the ocean spray from my face and settled back into reality. "Boy it's hot," my daughter said. "So, what do you think Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;Later, that night, as we were winding down, the family gathered to watch a DVD episode of the old sitcom. "Father Knows Best." The title of this particular episode was "Brief Holiday.." As we watched the story unfold, I could almost hear the Lord snickering. The mother in the story, Margaret Anderson, after getting her family off to work and school, began her morning chores. Suddenly, she began to think about all her family expected and required from her. A neighbor dropped in and Margaret shared her woes with the woman. As her friend listened incredulously, Margaret spoke of a "brief holiday" she wanted to take to a place outside of town called "Orleans Street" (the equivalent of Bolsa Chica, I guess.) "I'd love to drive over there and buy something frivolous," Margaret declared, "like a silly, expensive hat" (the equivalent of a carefree, loose-fitting sundress.)&lt;br /&gt;To cut to the chase, Margaret took her "brief holiday." She bought her hat -it was way cute. A street vendor persuaded her to allow him to sketch her portrait. As he commented on her beauty, Margaret glanced down at her watch and noticed the time. (the equivalent of a "Pirates" ringtone)&lt;br /&gt;Margaret, like me, was startled back into reality.&lt;br /&gt;The next day,as my hubby pondered our future, I shared my ill-fated shoreline fantasy with him and the irony of the timing of the Father Knows Best episode.&lt;br /&gt;"You could've gone," he said. "No," I replied wistfully. "It's no fun if it's not a secret. It wasn't the Lord's will for me to go. He wanted me here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that."&lt;/span&gt; James 4:13-15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-142678338608304138?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/142678338608304138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=142678338608304138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/142678338608304138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/142678338608304138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2009/07/brief-holiday.html' title='The Brief Holiday'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-2359724194218576021</id><published>2008-03-02T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T22:34:47.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Seconds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R8ubeQKHtQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kvTDy_Wwn5w/s1600-h/road_c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173399541000942850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="140" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R8ubeQKHtQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kvTDy_Wwn5w/s200/road_c.jpg" width="203" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We have to worship God in the difficult circumstances, and when He chooses, He will alter them in two seconds."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oswald Chambers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;God has brought us to the point at which we now find ourselves. The question is, do we try to find an escape hatch and treat the last few years as nothing more than a closed chapter in our history together? Or, do we hang on a little longer, knowing that all the hours we've invested in this passionate cause have been, as we suspected, our training ground for what lies just around the bend-two seconds away? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;James 1:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-2359724194218576021?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/2359724194218576021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=2359724194218576021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2359724194218576021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2359724194218576021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/03/two-seconds.html' title='Two Seconds'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R8ubeQKHtQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kvTDy_Wwn5w/s72-c/road_c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-4597857521291443263</id><published>2008-02-19T22:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T23:05:03.792-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken Soup Courtesy of Patton</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7vREPzkgrI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0nxqJUc03uc/s1600-h/soup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7vREPzkgrI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0nxqJUc03uc/s200/soup.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168954868230292146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Our job is not to figure out the how. The how will show up out of a commitment and belief in the what.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;–Jack Canfield&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, this is a powerful quote! Who would have guessed that Jack Canfield, the architect of the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books had a General Patton streak?&lt;br /&gt;I happened to see this quote today on someone else's blog and it struck a chord in me for a couple of reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, when I woke up this morning, I was headachy, tired and a little groggy. I couldn't remember what day it was and when I did, I was not a happy camper. I've been trying to put together a large project at work and as my deadline draws closer, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Lord first gave me this vision, I was thrilled and immediately saw myself at the top of the mountain-my goal accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;But, this morning, I saw tiny little me back at base camp, staring wearily up at the summit, wondering why I started this climb to begin with. As I ate my breakfast, I entertained the liberating thought of telling my boss I was calling the project off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when, shortly after arriving at work, I began reading a colleague's blog and saw the Canfiled quote waving like a matador's crimson cape in the page's margin ! God was crying, "Toro!" (Loose translation-"What you heard at breakfast was a bunch of bull from the Devil himself !" I guess God uses Chicken Soup not only to comfort the body, but to soothe the spirit as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, God never says, "Oops!" He gave me this vision and,along with it, the ability to see it through. I know the guy in the red suit (Satan, not Santa) would just relish the opportunity to deprive me of the blessing of completing this project,not to mention keeping the Lord from getting all the glory &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;again!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the quote. It says, don't worry about the "how" of your project. Commit yourself to the project itself and the "hows" will solve themselves. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:19) If He gives me a vision, He, in His graciousness, will equip me with anything I need to see that vision through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/1678535534511529724-4597857521291443263?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/4597857521291443263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=4597857521291443263' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/4597857521291443263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/4597857521291443263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/02/chicken-soup-courtesy-of-patton.html' title='Chicken Soup Courtesy of Patton'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7vREPzkgrI/AAAAAAAAAAk/0nxqJUc03uc/s72-c/soup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-6730693485065068999</id><published>2008-02-11T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T23:00:43.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All that ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7KVifzkgqI/AAAAAAAAAAc/1NbBwtNWat0/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7KVifzkgqI/AAAAAAAAAAc/1NbBwtNWat0/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166356142433272482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you walk and chew gum at the same time? How about rub your tummy and pat your head simultaneously? It's all about multitasking, isn't it sistahfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since the women's lib movement of the 70's sold us the "you can have it all' bill of goods, we have no choice &lt;em&gt;but &lt;/em&gt;to multitask. That is unless we sprout more arms and being a creationist, I don't see our species going in that direction anytime soon !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, though, getting back to that women's lib thing, what ding-a-ling came up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch old shows like "I Love Lucy" and I think Mrs Ricardo had it pretty good. Get Ricky's breakfast, send little Ricky off to school and spend the day cleaning and churning out clean clothes for everyone. Sit down, have a smoke, play some bridge with the women's club and have a home-cooked meal for the band leader when he came home. Ah, the simple life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, we had to have equal rights, careers, TV dinners, McDonald's and daycare. Heck, we even demanded and got our own cigarettes ! You've come a long way, Baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait, I don't remember voting on all that stuff ! Here's my version of women's lib:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some days when I am so rushed and overscheduled, I don't even know what day it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fight the clock so much, I'm considering flying to Washington to testify against Daylight Savings time! How dare they take those 60 minutes from me-that is a perfectly good hour and I've already got plans for it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some nights when I am so exhausted I could cry and so mentally wired, I can't sleep. I've found myself asking the Lord to come to me in my dreams and give me the answers to the problems I couldn't solve the day before. (Sometimes He does !)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my son was born, sixteen years ago, my husband and I decided I needed to be a stay at home mom. We had a five-year-old starting school and we had waited nearly 6 years to have our second child so that I could stay home for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being 8 months pregnant with Joshua and asking some Christian friends for their counsel on whether or not I should quit my job.(At the time, I was making $13 an hour.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Whenever I pray about this, the Lord keeps giving me the scripture that says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He shall give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4) Our good friend, Doug, replied, " Chris, who do you think put those desires there in the first place?" He also reminded us of the verse that follows, "Commit your way to the Lord , trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. " We had to make this choice for our family and then trust the Lord to keep His promises. And He did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I treasured every day I spent with those children. My family was my first ministry and I reveled in that. I thoroughly enjoyed doing the housework, and cooking and grocery shopping because I knew I was in God's will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord has taken us down a different path and I've been working part-time for the past nine years. I have homeschooled my son since Kindergarten. He is now a junior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is that I still treasure the time I spend with my family, but it isn't as carefree as it used to be. I still have to do the laundry and cook and shop for groceries along with planning our school lessons and deal with job issues. I am blessed to have a job that I love and all of our needs are met.&lt;br /&gt;So I CAN have it all, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if ALL means exhaustion, mental fatigue and a constant whisper in my ear saying that someone at home or work didn't get my best, then yes, I am the proud owner of ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any woman who says she loves leaving her baby with someone else while she goes off to work, or that she is more fulfilled because she has a career, is either lying or kidding herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fairness to my gendermates, I understand how difficult it is to make a living. It takes 2 incomes to eat out, have a yearly vacation or give your kids a happy Christmas. I know this.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just asking for women to admit that maybe our moms and grandmas had it a little better-not easier, mind you-just better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-6730693485065068999?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/6730693485065068999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=6730693485065068999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/6730693485065068999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/6730693485065068999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-that.html' title='All that ?'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/R7KVifzkgqI/AAAAAAAAAAc/1NbBwtNWat0/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-8458124944662109967</id><published>2008-02-06T09:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T22:23:17.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Red Light !</title><content type='html'>" Be ye holy; for I am holy. "&lt;br /&gt;1Peter 1:16&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other morning I was sitting at a red light, my mind already lost in the jungle of what lay ahead that day. As I started across the intersection, my daughter calmly said,"You do know the light's still red, right?" As God would have it, there were no cars headed my way and I repented to the last half of the intersection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice last week, I inadvertently entered the carpool lane on the freeway onramp when it was just little 'ol me in the car. I asked for forgiveness and prayed the Lord would not strike me dead before I got to work. (Obviously, he granted my request.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I told a small lie to get out of an unpleasant commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, you're not reading an excerpt from &lt;em&gt;The Enquirer&lt;/em&gt;. (I'd be confessing to &lt;em&gt;People&lt;/em&gt; magazine for one thing-I do have &lt;em&gt;some &lt;/em&gt;class.)&lt;br /&gt;I am making my sordid life public for 3 reasons;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;After searching high and low, I just can't find an altar at which to offer my sacrifice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Living in a small apartment, and working for a church has left me with neither the space nor cash to keep any livestock to use for said offering.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To remind myself and whoever is reading this that my Father still loves me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;I try everyday to be holy, but I frequently mess up. Heck, donuts are always holy, but even they can often be crummy too. (Go ahead and groan !)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was watching this old sitcom called "Family Affair," in which Uncle Bill spends hours trying to get his 6 year -old twin wards to keep quiet and stay out of trouble , so he can get some work done. (He's an engineer, so in this episode, he was blueprinting an extension to the Great Wall of China or something.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Anyway, he finally decides to send the kids go off to camp for the weekend . Both he and his manservant, Mr. French, find themselves miserably lonely for the kids and eventually venture to the camp to bring them back. The first thing the kids do when they get home is break an expensive Ming vase. Though, Uncle Bill's work is once again interrupted,  he smiles when his nephew asks, "Aren't you mad?" Uncle Bill's reply: "No, I'm not mad . It was just a silly old vase."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Before he sent them away, Uncle Bill wanted the twins to behave like adults. Not an easy task for 6 year-olds , but the kids tried because they loved their uncle and desired to please him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love Jesus and my strongest desire is to please Him, but boy, am I glad that when I break the laws of the California Highway Patrol, He gives me grace. I'm also thankful he keeps local Law Enforcement distracted long enough to miss my criminal activity.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-8458124944662109967?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/8458124944662109967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=8458124944662109967' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/8458124944662109967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/8458124944662109967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/02/sinlets.html' title='Holy Red Light !'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-617934099959870258</id><published>2008-01-31T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T16:05:40.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Under my right wing</title><content type='html'>There is a website called Glassbooth that encourages folks to take a quiz that will tell them which Presidential candidate has views that most closely align with their own. Sounds simple, right? Should eliminate all the confusion, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the quiz and found out that to the left of my conservative right wing beats the heart of an Obama girl. Mmmm. My family say I've hidden this well. I wasn't sure I could wear the "O" proudly, so I took the quiz again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O! Wow.&lt;br /&gt;There it was again.&lt;br /&gt;Last night KCAL 9 announced that on their website they had a similar quiz to "help you find your candidate in '08." Yeah I went there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was stung by a Huckabee. I must re-register with the Schizophrenic party!&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that the questions on these 2 quizzes are worded completely differently. The KCAL quiz is much more black and white (or should I say red and blue?) The Glassbooth quiz is less distinct .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red or blue? I'm in a purple haze! I'm beginning to think I should've gone with my first instinct, my gut feeling, my strongest emotion, and supported Jon Edwards-he's so cute!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-617934099959870258?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/617934099959870258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=617934099959870258' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/617934099959870258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/617934099959870258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/01/under-my-right-wing.html' title='Under my right wing'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1678535534511529724.post-2537453782178038170</id><published>2008-01-31T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T15:43:56.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maps</title><content type='html'>I read this quote today that really inspired me. It went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maps encourage boldness. They're like cryptic love letters. They make anything seem possible.-- Mark Jenkins, "To Timbuktu"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea who this Mark Jenkins is or even where Timbuktu may be, but this quote spoke to my heart for many reasons. Have you ever spread out a big map on the floor and plotted out your family's vacation? Everyone chimes in about what they'd like to do or what relatives they want to visit (or not visit). The parents excitedly plan what wonders or landmarks they'll suprise the kids with. And the whole family is anxiously awaitng the adventure that lies ahead. Everyone is filled with an expectant hope that their group will reach their destination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Christian, I know my final destination is Heaven. But I am so excited each day to "plan" alongside the Lord how the hours will be spent, serving Him. Of course, sometimes my "to do" list gets ahead of God's. I know that while I am jotting down busywork on my notepad, most of the time the Lord is smiling to Himself, thinking ,"she has no idea what I have in store for her today." I've learned to be flexible about my plans and daily goals, because I know that if I let God do the driving, He might surprise me with a sidetrip on my journey; and His sidetrips are always better than anything I could ever have planned on  my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a  Bible verse that proclaims, where there is no vision, the people perish. (Proverbs 29:18) I believe the Lord calls on us to have a "map" for each day. He wants us to have a vision for how we can best accomplish the tasks He has called us to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met some folks who are content to go through life with "no maps"- no direction or goals in sight; satisfied to just move from moment to moment, being tossed around like a piece of kelp floating in the Pacific Ocean (wow, I waxed dramatic-that's unusual for me:0)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you're a kelp,  you really don't know or even care where you end up. You are pretty much a victim of the wind, the tides and the strength of the waves. A lot of  kelp end up  beached on the shore: helpless and dried out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prefer to have Jesus as my GPS. We've got the map spread out and He's invited me to pick out some stopping points (Wallyworld?). But, I'm looking forward to the surprise sidetrips!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1678535534511529724-2537453782178038170?l=proverbs15point5.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/feeds/2537453782178038170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1678535534511529724&amp;postID=2537453782178038170' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2537453782178038170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1678535534511529724/posts/default/2537453782178038170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proverbs15point5.blogspot.com/2008/01/maps.html' title='Maps'/><author><name>Proverbs15.5</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08157572682696671682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bf0V05Jpp6w/S_Y02CucqwI/AAAAAAAAACk/y8iBH0ICDg8/S220/myjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
