tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30934042107686575922024-02-23T02:42:44.931-05:00Hidden Riches From Secret PlacesAn attempt to share my journey with God and friends as I discover His truths daily. He promises In Isaiah 45:3 to give us the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places. Some of those treasures I have found, and others I am still digging and searching for. Thank you for joining me on my quest and sharing my heart's treasures!Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.comBlogger323125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-15324376204905417522015-11-18T09:30:00.000-05:002015-11-18T09:30:15.338-05:00I love you, Buster!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLzZUT74JAxsGV5qEPd-2OYRrCyimzFIH7qHQNq4SBAU3xMT7El1xt-z6kbtDknuRIqwTjpb0_iloMQSY3P_u1Zj_Btlu_vVuVMrVlQknTERoilyBxXHt5lh8R19Iz65Cma-QwTkpE7M/s1600/buster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLzZUT74JAxsGV5qEPd-2OYRrCyimzFIH7qHQNq4SBAU3xMT7El1xt-z6kbtDknuRIqwTjpb0_iloMQSY3P_u1Zj_Btlu_vVuVMrVlQknTERoilyBxXHt5lh8R19Iz65Cma-QwTkpE7M/s320/buster.JPG" /></a></div>
He never criticized me when my house was dirty or messy. He didn't mind that sometimes I acted like a hoarder. He always forgave me when I was crabby, whiney, or impatient. He loved me in spite of all my faults. What will I ever do without that crazy, happy face greeting me every single morning as I stumbled to the bathroom???? He's gone. My Buster is gone. And my heart is broken.
Several weeks ago, I noticed he was walking a little funny. I thought maybe his nails were getting too long, and my brother-in-law came over and clipped them, hoping that would help. It slowly got worse. Buster always loved my massage machine and he laid down on the floor for me to massage his hips and legs. He loved it, but it didn't help, and he began "slipping" --- his back legs sliding out from under him as if he were on ice. It was torture for me to see him try to get up. I took him to the vet the other day, and they found nothing at all wrong with his spine, hips, legs, etc. X-rays were perfect. She asked to keep him for a while, they would do blood tests, etc. They called later that day and said he had diabetes and wanted to do a drip of insulin and something else.
But it didn't work. The next morning he was in worse shape, and the vet said he would never walk again. So I had to make that heart-wrenching decision --- I had to let him go.
I love you, Buster. I will always miss you. You saw me through a hard period of my life and I thank you for being such a wonderful, faithful friend. There will never be another Buster and everyone who ever met you knew you were one of a kind. You will hold a special place in my heart forever and ever!!!Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-24814189724962695842015-11-14T10:31:00.000-05:002015-11-14T10:37:40.180-05:00It's Back!!!
<p>So much time has passed since I last posted here that it's hard to find a new beginning. In some ways, I could say that nothing new has happened, "same old, same old," etc. In other ways, I could say my life has been turned up-side-down. And with that, came all new feelings, emotions, weaknesses, strengths, and a whole lot of stuff I never knew was a part of me.</p>
<p>I thought I had it beat. I fought the fight, won the battle, and for seven years ----- nothing. That sneaky, pesky, risky, dreaded cancer. My oncologist was right and I hate to admit it -- "It is not a question of IF the cancer will return, but rather, a question of WHEN!" I HATED that statement. With a passion! It haunted me for 7 years. And just when you think you are "over it" in terms of worry, etc., I get hit smack against the head with those most dreaded words "I'm sorry to tell you, but it's back."</p>
<p>In the sleepless, dark hours of many past nights, I've planned out my emotions, how I would react, the brave face I would have, and what my eloquent words would be when I heard those words. I thought I had it memorized, practiced -- right down the smile, how I would walk out of that office, etc. It didn't work. The "ME" I thought I was just didn't show up.</p>
<p>It all started about a month ago. My arm started swelling -- lymphedema from the mastectomy I thought. I kept it elevated, but it kept getting worse. Strange that it would start doing this after 7 years of no problems. But it does sometimes, and there it was, painful, heavy, and worrisome. I finally began to realize this needed attention, but who do you call, your primary care doctor or your oncologist. I went with the oncologist. He took one good glance at it and sat back in his chair and said, "You know what THAT is, don't you? A blood clot!" That scared me --- when I was 8 years old, my Mom died suddenly from a blood clot --- pulmonary embolism. He put me on blood thinners, gave me some instructions, got up to leave the room and said, "If you have any shortness of breath or chest pain, go straight to the emergency room." Before he got out the door, I said, "But I already have shortnesss of breath." He stopped dead in his tracks and made arrangements for scans and ultrasounds of my lungs, arm, chest, etc. And off I went to the radiologist.</p>
<p>But already, my "act", my resolve to be the best of soldiers, the greatest cancer actress, etc., was down the drain. I got as far as my car, melted into a puddle of nerves and called my sister. All I could get out was, "I'm in trouble!" Little did I know how much trouble I was in, and how thankful I would be for the blood clot. Yes, the scans confirmed the blood clot. But it also showed "spots" on my lungs. And the little bit of my liver that showed on those chest scans also showed trouble. The cancer was back.</p>
<p>So on to PET scans. All was confirmed -- cancer in the liver, lungs, ribs and spine. It's strange how shocking news affects a person. It wasn't the cancer that scared me so much --- it was the thought of biopsies and the fact that I could NEVER in a million years go through one. I would rather die right there on the spot. Everything within me cried, "NO! NOOOOOOOOOO! NO!!!" But. . . . what are my choices? As my sister said once, I had two choices --- either sign up for all the worst possible stuff you could dream of, or die a slow, hideious, painful death. So. . . . I signed up, pretending I was brave and strong, but falling apart on the inside.</p>
<p>I found out in those first days that you just know somewhere in your heart who will pray for you, and who will REALLY pray for you. It's the latter that you contact. And it is those people who hold you up, inject you with hope and strength and light and point you to the One who is my light and my salvation and the strength of my life (Psalm 27).</p>
<p>So I sign up for that dreaded liver biopsy. And I march in that hospital. And I let them dig for veins for IV's and blood tests. And this guy comes to get me and says "We need to get more scans first." And I slide through the CT scanner one more time. And lo and behold, the radiologist comes out and says, "Honey, there will be no liver biopsy today!" And I ask Why? He says, because there is nothing there to biopsy! You have an inflamed gall bladder and need to get that out right away. He does confirm "many tiny nodules" on my lungs. And I immediately panic and tell him I can't do the lung biopsy. Just can't!!!!!! I had heard all the horror stories about those things. He pats my arm and says, Don't get all upset now, I can't do a lung biopsy. The nodules are way too small. Go back to your oncologist for Plan B.</p>
<p>So good news --- no liver cancer. Bad news: Lungs. Good news: They will put me under general anesthesia and a Thoracic surgeon will do the biopsy and another surgeon will do the gall bladder all at the same time. (Anyone can do anything to me as long as I'm OUT!). So all those appointments are made.</p>
<p>Here I sit, all dressed and ready to go for the consult with the surgeon. The phone rings. "Hold on, your dr. wants to talk to you." He NEVER calls.
It was like someone said "God Himself wants to talk to you." My heart starts racing. He gets on the line and says, "I just talked back and forth with the radiologist. He studied your scans again and feels that there is a mass or something in your back and thinks he can get a biopsy from there instead of that risky, invasive lung biopsy, so cancel your appointment with the surgeon and we'll set up the other biopsy from here."</p>
<p>Good news: no lung biopsy. bad news, new cancer in my back????</p>
<p>So that's where I stand right now. Lots of questions, not many answers. Gall bladder HAS to come out. Pain is getting unbearable. But the rest of it all rests on the results of the biopsy. We can't start any kind of treatment until we know if it is the same cancer as the breast cancer was, or if this is a whole new ball game.</p>
<p>That biopsy will be Tuesday at 8:15 am. I would appreciate your prayers as this guy digs into my back. I'm not real brave. No, I'll be honest --- I'm not brave AT ALL!!!!!</p>
<p>Strange how the thing I was so upset about (the blood clot) became the thing that set into motion a diagnosis of cancer. Who knows how long it would have been before it was discovered if it had not been for that clot?! Nothing was showing up --- no change in cancer markers in my blood tests, no new pains, no nothing. The verse I have clung to is Psalm 138:8 --- "The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." It's amazing how He does that, isn't it???</p>
<p>You'd think by this time in my life I would be more trusting of His plans and how He works them out.</p>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-83351322212399171012013-09-02T12:39:00.001-04:002013-09-02T12:45:58.203-04:00A Labor Day Wish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-GkIZRjzRUlXITB27do8-a-LkpmUUdxK8-jONGAdAx9aeSFD0xL0iNmJUtcm8Q84WayNPhiT8ZUVOMbyZBKrsDQC93sXWBR91QIzjHsIuyyAjfRPuk8jf4_IuOXy3bOWuPEYspM6kS-Q/s1600/sunsetoverwater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-GkIZRjzRUlXITB27do8-a-LkpmUUdxK8-jONGAdAx9aeSFD0xL0iNmJUtcm8Q84WayNPhiT8ZUVOMbyZBKrsDQC93sXWBR91QIzjHsIuyyAjfRPuk8jf4_IuOXy3bOWuPEYspM6kS-Q/s640/sunsetoverwater.jpg" /></a></div>
May your day be full of hopeful sunrises and thankful sunsets. May you see the sun rise on new tomorrows and days full of colorful falling leaves, cool breezes, the sound of acorns hitting the tin roof on the shed, and squirrels collecting them and hiding their treasures for later winter munching. May you find one yourself, plant it deep in some rich dirt, water it with the faith that believes and hopes in tomorrow’s oak trees and God’s promises and miracles. May you watch your orange and yellow and pink, vibrant sunsets with a thankful heart for all that summer leaves behind you --- the scent of flowers, the sounds of singing birds, the fresh mowed grass, births, growths, and the creations of an artful heart! Thank Him for lessons learned on dark days, gifts received on bright days, tears shed on sad days, smiles shared on happy days. May you always remember that all are gifts, all are from His hands, all freely given . . .to YOU!Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-35439975935211932212013-08-24T14:38:00.001-04:002013-08-24T14:53:51.584-04:00A Weekend Blessing
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7jxb19ReHild7O7kM9jP8pqRUQOfAooKKHymqIFNUMOot6asVXvVKtmqApoB01WhF83rf-WGvz6Fpaz-tEC9VEyH_qpmdFIOeCO8ULQP6gRyYiJN3nBRx4hmY5NNNbD_gEZ0RBhv6Z4/s1600/dragonfly3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7jxb19ReHild7O7kM9jP8pqRUQOfAooKKHymqIFNUMOot6asVXvVKtmqApoB01WhF83rf-WGvz6Fpaz-tEC9VEyH_qpmdFIOeCO8ULQP6gRyYiJN3nBRx4hmY5NNNbD_gEZ0RBhv6Z4/s640/dragonfly3.jpg" /></a></div>
<p>Emily, over at<a href="http://www.chattingatthesky.com/"> Chatting At the Sky</a>, does these wonderful "For Your Weekend" posts. I have always loved them so much and have forwarded them on many times.
Today, I thought, I'll just write one myself. Lea from <a href="http://shabbyoldepottingshed.blogspot.com/">the Shabby Olde Potting Shed</a> told me she was vacuuming, etc., today. So this was written with her in mind. But it's for whoever reads this today! Even YOU!</p>
<p>May your day be filled with eye-squinting sunshine, glistening leaves that dance in the breezes, and magical whispy clouds that float across the sky. Drop your vacuum and your dust mop and step into the world of turquoise dragonflies, dancing yellow dandilions, and droopy-faced sunflowers. Breathe in the freshness of God’s joyous creation. Breathe out your thanks to God, the Creator of the beauty around you.
And may you hear Him whisper, “You are very welcome and it My pleasure to provide it for you!” Don’t miss the splendor this weekend! Dust bunnies will be glad to wait until Monday!</p>
<p> And if you can't find a turquoise dragonfly ---- make one"</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZJOEYbPymBrJw4rIZwb4YoxEUvzrdBSKs3UheEoBAcvTfzWNuBKTt-XLc8G1EUC3zIjm5gwB2udtdoW9NntA-jU3jmGlby9A_VsWqTStSyfpiNsuhjB1ReO1YXFvPaVJoIEKTc7iyug/s1600/dragonflies1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZJOEYbPymBrJw4rIZwb4YoxEUvzrdBSKs3UheEoBAcvTfzWNuBKTt-XLc8G1EUC3zIjm5gwB2udtdoW9NntA-jU3jmGlby9A_VsWqTStSyfpiNsuhjB1ReO1YXFvPaVJoIEKTc7iyug/s400/dragonflies1.jpg" /></a></div>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-9550774212797808232013-08-14T12:16:00.001-04:002013-08-14T17:43:38.447-04:00Lessons Learned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_SNzEB8gPSX_PmVQWOOjkI1tEE-UbKRxcaumw5xZ9REeo2wAg1wAMKDauJi5FfFnqQPmgobzwU3-lcBlnm1ZnzY2LdOVh234jtkOdzjD4RetUB3UewfUiQffkSIukJvoTOoveJdXk2w/s1600/desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_SNzEB8gPSX_PmVQWOOjkI1tEE-UbKRxcaumw5xZ9REeo2wAg1wAMKDauJi5FfFnqQPmgobzwU3-lcBlnm1ZnzY2LdOVh234jtkOdzjD4RetUB3UewfUiQffkSIukJvoTOoveJdXk2w/s320/desert.jpg" /></a></div>
I read a “daily devotional” today that talked about how we face our past --- do we look at it through the lens of guilt, despair and shame, or do we look at it through the lens of God’s forgiveness, redemption and restoration?
<p>Sprinkled throughout these past months has been the reminder of the word I chose for 2013 --- restoration. I can’t believe how many times the Lord has brought into the forefront of my mind stuff from my past. Some of it was covered with cobwebs as it had been hidden back in the dark corners of my mind. Others rose up out of cloudy, misty memories that I had hoped would stay out in the cold. I do know that we shouldn’t dwell on our past, that we should move on, press on, “forgetting those things which are behind.” Yet, there are times when we need to learn from our mistakes and pass those learning lessons on to others or leave lights along the pathway so others don’t trip over the same things we stumbled over.</p>
<p>I’ve been keeping a list of things I learned when I was in places that seemed to be nothing but desolate deserts. I’m sure the list isn’t complete and I’ll be adding more, but I wanted to share this with you today:</p>
<p>In my hunger, He alone could feed me.</p>
<p>In my thirst for Him, He proved only He could satisfy.</p>
<p>In my weariness, He taught me how to sit and “rest awhile.”</p>
<p>In my loneliness, He became my true friend.</p>
<p>In my restlessness, He became my contentment.</p>
<p>In my longings, He became my fulfillment.</p>
<p>In my desparation, He became my hope.</p>
<p>In my desires, He filled my needs.</p>
<p>In my broken dreams, He became my reality.</p>
<p>In my wanderings, He became my pathway.</p>
<p>In my darkness, He became my light.</p>
<p>In my despair, He became my encourager.</p>
<p>In my questionings, He became my answers.</p>
<p>In the heat of my days, He became my resting place.</p>
<p>In the endlessness of the desert, He became my horizon.</p>
<p>In my questions “why?” He became my answer, “Because I am that I am.”</p>
<p>In my blindness, He became my vision.</p>
<p>In my doubting, He became my faith.</p>
<p>In my midnight hours, He became my song.</p>
<p>In my falling, He lifted me up.</p>
<p>In my sinfulness, He touched me.</p>
<p>In my brokenness, He healed me.</p>
<p>In seeing Him, I became nothing.</p>
<p>In my nothingness, He became everything.</p>
<p>In finding Him to be everything, the desert became my Promised Land.</p>
<p>In finding my way through the desert, I found my ministry as a guide.</p>
<p>So yes, it is true that He DOES restore the years the locusts have eaten. I don’t think there is one thing on this list that was not worth learning!</p>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-39817494628972598752013-04-04T10:35:00.001-04:002013-04-04T10:35:23.659-04:00Update on Paper making<p>I'm obsessed! Not a day has gone by where I haven't made at least one sheet of paper, and I love how every one has turned out. Usually, I'm a "neutral" kind of person, staying with the earth tones, tans, off white, ivory, etc. But now???? I'm all for COLOR, sparkles, specks, patterns, textures, etc. It's like a new ME has emerged!!! Nothing is safe in my kitchen, my garbage, my mailbox, etc.</p>
<p>My first experimental venture was with strawberries. My sister had some left that were turning a little dark and mushy, so I dumped them in the blender with my paper scraps. Just the color of that blended mix of pulp looked like some delicious homemade ice cream. I followed all the steps of making the paper, but I couldn't wait for it to dry, so I ironed it dry. It's still sitting here in one piece ---- I can't even bear to cut it up. In fact, I haven't done a single project with my papers yet. They are too pretty to cut them. I have all these dies for my Accucut and Sizzix machine and I can't make up my mind what to do, so I just look at them.(The blobs of white in the photo are actually little sparkles I threw in with the pulp!)</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlR_yfjNm8dKDQyrz50mlaOBvhW4I2Hqd7OJI0IEM3bfUscQDx4ilOFIAr1jjdej0xTic5d8ezadmIJvF4kGYQMv1qAnYmsUB_TLr_BfRu5XCDD3qcLFxWufFbjofe-dzdrb9FCWVdlY/s1600/strawberrypaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlR_yfjNm8dKDQyrz50mlaOBvhW4I2Hqd7OJI0IEM3bfUscQDx4ilOFIAr1jjdej0xTic5d8ezadmIJvF4kGYQMv1qAnYmsUB_TLr_BfRu5XCDD3qcLFxWufFbjofe-dzdrb9FCWVdlY/s320/strawberrypaper.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>Yesterday, my sister gave me one of her beautiful, sparkly, blue sheets and asked me to cut some bookmarks for her. I cut her four. I had the perfect blue ribbon yarn with a glittery weave through it, so did the tassels out of that. She was so thrilled and proceeded to make flowers for them and decorate them up. She is soooooooo hooked!</p>
<p>After the strawberry success, I branched out and made paper out of oatmeal, rose petals, and even used my carrot peelings to make the most beautiful pumpkin colored paper.(no pictures yet ---- it isn't dry!)</p>
<p>I also tried my hand at paper casting, as I had a few of those Brown Bag cookie molds hidden away. It took a while to find them, but it was worth the effort. Paper Alice (video in the last post) has these neat molds for paper casting, and my sister has three of those. They turned out fantastic. I'm in love with my angel castings and can't wait to do more.</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNulXyx1BpbHIB0fo5E7qy29xaIwh9jCE-U6B3H0aSNhL4tl3bFtADoSH7bHWJKZMQH4Zlyk7vesyVloWQmXL1f2AZxMBrQHZbavscfD38NXxTdjT-kGewLt7vype5dG3z0Oi3bTGCAo/s1600/angelcasting1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNulXyx1BpbHIB0fo5E7qy29xaIwh9jCE-U6B3H0aSNhL4tl3bFtADoSH7bHWJKZMQH4Zlyk7vesyVloWQmXL1f2AZxMBrQHZbavscfD38NXxTdjT-kGewLt7vype5dG3z0Oi3bTGCAo/s320/angelcasting1.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>I have a collection of antique butter molds, and they have the most unique carvings in them. I got brave and did a paper casting of one with acorns, leaves and wheat. I couldn't believe it turned out!!!!! Now I want to do them all.</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2WbDTbuHXcKc_XLBBKGSKOlansu7QLZWLcIeX-Xf3_CNmZuY7EZ56_f-BTaxpMCQ-VWUMMRGb9N4aCpHIlewrT8DHjh40kKlyoRNugMArTzpQgn9e-s4xnRLhk1_yc6Y4cEuBBpd0_M/s1600/buttermoldacorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2WbDTbuHXcKc_XLBBKGSKOlansu7QLZWLcIeX-Xf3_CNmZuY7EZ56_f-BTaxpMCQ-VWUMMRGb9N4aCpHIlewrT8DHjh40kKlyoRNugMArTzpQgn9e-s4xnRLhk1_yc6Y4cEuBBpd0_M/s320/buttermoldacorn.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>So here I am, like a third grader playing with paper scraps, a blender, and a bucket of water!!!!! I have to get a card made and something DONE to show you how beautiful it really looks. I know some of you are trying this, making handmade journals, cards, and artsy stuff, and I can't wait to see your projects! Let me know if you post about your papermaking!!!!!</p>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-90604704221542558732013-03-20T16:40:00.001-04:002013-03-20T16:40:30.280-04:00New Projects for Spring<p>I am just soooooo glad that Spring has finally come! I'm tired of being cold. I was shocked when I saw that my wisteria had started to bloom. Not a day too soon, either. I'm as busy as the bees that have found those wisteria blooms, believe me.</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2o48vK78MW_7Cs8mGPtIW0dy5JD4ob6kL4CvhILWCjhWmdHELjwmjpefpNQkreCAZetdLVLU0JtFZVtgqwq3NVVPb4ham79OjXFYd8jX-lfUMKqWVimNTs2RlApWPBQkGihBu8dBNRs/s1600/wisteria.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2o48vK78MW_7Cs8mGPtIW0dy5JD4ob6kL4CvhILWCjhWmdHELjwmjpefpNQkreCAZetdLVLU0JtFZVtgqwq3NVVPb4ham79OjXFYd8jX-lfUMKqWVimNTs2RlApWPBQkGihBu8dBNRs/s320/wisteria.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>I don't know where I read about making your own paper ---- perhaps as I hopped down rabbit trails of blogs ---- but it jogged my memory back to a time when I REALLY wanted to get into that. But I never did. So that idea began to brew and boil over in my mind until I couldn't stand it anymore. I googled the topic and read everything written on the subject and watched about 237 videos on how to do it. I am now the "expert" and know more than I will ever, ever need to know about making my own paper.</p>
<p>Then, I found "Paper Alice", a gal who not only makes the most beautiful paper, but gives classes, does shows, and also sells the supplies. I could tell from her videos that she just loved doing what she does. And I was hooked! So last week, I ordered what I needed to get started, and let me tell you, I was like a kid waiting for it to come in the mail. Monday, it came. In the meantime, I picked some of my wisteria blossoms, got them pressed and dried, all ready for my first piece of paper.</p>
<p>The nice thing about making paper is, you can use all the junk paper, junk mail, envelopes, etc., that usually ends up in the trash. Napkins, tissue, wrapping paper, etc., are all appropriate. So I dug in the trash for two envelopes, some cardstock scraps, and I was in business.</p>
<p>So here is my first attempt:</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvc9h7S24KfXIeFnUHo8gVeM-bRtyomZJwAg8sOi7JGOTFrIa8gB2jf4mA1nInEBWVvrudA382IOxTsdGOgZP8F-ALn8Zh-I8NREgdWy_xmtiz1atxoKUQDbpGQwiQqvb3xFoPyoFQ1Iw/s1600/paper1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvc9h7S24KfXIeFnUHo8gVeM-bRtyomZJwAg8sOi7JGOTFrIa8gB2jf4mA1nInEBWVvrudA382IOxTsdGOgZP8F-ALn8Zh-I8NREgdWy_xmtiz1atxoKUQDbpGQwiQqvb3xFoPyoFQ1Iw/s320/paper1.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>I was tickled pink with it. All I did was, tore up two business envelopes and a half a piece of blue cardstock and put it all in a blender. I covered it with water, turned it on for 30 seconds or so, added some parsley from the spice rack, and poured it into my mold. Unmolded it, and there was a perfect sheet of paper. I carefully pressed my flowers into the wet paper, covered it all with a screen, sponged out the water, and DONE! I am SOOOOOOOO into this! It will go with my card making and add so much to what I'm already doing. The neat thing is, the possibilities are endless ---- like adding sparkles, glitter, flower petals, leaves, colorings, etc. The sky is the limit.</p>
<p>Here's my second attempt:</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTxQK7CJesFNRQrRvZT0VQhr_4LyhnPW7xNV1KSxolrasRe0XxPA8SwL2m1ckOeCnc_o_sSJh3PUwZTct7OrDNy_bRAzrSWVrFfs_yGCUhmO-Nbh05XsrxfRbBvqVqOGkZ6qG6cUdcbM/s1600/paper2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTxQK7CJesFNRQrRvZT0VQhr_4LyhnPW7xNV1KSxolrasRe0XxPA8SwL2m1ckOeCnc_o_sSJh3PUwZTct7OrDNy_bRAzrSWVrFfs_yGCUhmO-Nbh05XsrxfRbBvqVqOGkZ6qG6cUdcbM/s320/paper2.jpg" /></a></p>
<p>This one has green moss and oregano in the mix. Once again, I used two envelopes and some scraps of green cardstock.</p>
<p>If you would like to see "Paper Alice" and her YouTube videos, you can find them here: <a href="http://paperalice.com/"></a></p>
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UlX87tvei7c" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-77001509624568717952013-01-25T11:04:00.001-05:002013-01-25T11:04:19.577-05:00Again!<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" alt="Five Minute Friday" title="Five Minute Friday" style="border:none;" /></a>
<p>Linking up with Lisa Jo and 5-minute Fridays. It’s a time when we set the timer and write for 5 minutes with no corrections, editing, backspacing, or “do overs.” So here it goes:</p>
<p>Today’s Word ---- “Again”</p>
<p>Go!</p>
<p>Once again, I made the journey to the Cancer Center for my three--month check up. I’m coming up on my 5-year anniversary in July -- it was in July of 2008 that I was diagnosed with breast cancer and started that journey through treatment. No matter what anyone says, no matter how positive and “on top of it” I am, I was never the same after that. I don’t think anyone is. It’s not a detour, it’s a whole new path.</p>
<p>Once again, I get weighed, I get the finger prick, I get the exam, I get the blood draw from my chemo port, and I get the port flushed out. In some ways, I’m tired of it. In other ways, I am reminded again and again of God’s abundant grace in healing and giving me these past 5 years.</p>
<p>Again, my oncologist reminds me of his own surprise at my “amazing recovery” and absence of any signs of cancer. We discussed those chemo days, how he didn’t think the surgeon would be able to close that spot where the tumor was, how the radiation burned me to a crisp, and yet, it looks so good.</p>
<p>And so, again, I lift my praise and thankful heart to Him who walks with us through the each and every valley! And again, I thank all my friends here who stuck with me through those days, walked with me, prayed for me again and again, and have praised God for all He has done!</p>
<p>Stop!</p>
<p> Be sure to visit others who are participating in 5-minute Friday here:</p>
<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" alt="Five Minute Friday" title="Five Minute Friday" style="border:none;" /></a>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-58058576458641185322013-01-24T16:19:00.002-05:002013-01-24T19:40:57.255-05:00Regrets, Redemption, Restoration<p>I never meant to stop blogging. I love it here and love all of you who came to visit. But it seemed that I ran out of words for a while. One day passed, than another, then a week, a month, and now. . . . It seems like I’ve disappeared forever. It just seemed that I was boring. I was bored with me. My days seemed to always be the same and finding topics to discuss was just not happening.</p>
<p>Perhaps a break was best for me, though I didn’t even know I was going to take one. But lately, I’ve found myself writing, so to speak, in my head -- especially during sleepless night. And it always sounded like blog posts. So here I am, back again.</p>
<p>I wasn’t completely gone. I loved blog hopping to so many of your blogs. They are always so thought-provoking, beautifully written, and God honoring. I’m so thankful for all of them, believe me!</p>
<p>So many of you have picked words for this new year. I found that to be so interesting, as I really had never done that before. So I decided to think about it and my heart settled on one word ---- no, maybe it’s three words, really. “Regrets,” “Redemption,” and “Restoration.”</p>
<p>It all began with the verse in Joel 2:25 where God says He will restore the years the locust have eaten. Can He really do that???? Immediately, my thoughts went back in my journals of memories and seemed to highlight all the regretful stuff, even from my childhood: Bad choices, no’s instead of yes’s. “I can’t” instead of “I’ll try.” Running instead of staying, and staying when I should have run.</p>
<p>Oh my, do you have any idea what a review of your regrets in life can do to the weight of the burden on your back???? It’s not a good thing, that’s for sure. Especially since there is no way to change any of it. It’s over, done, and I am who I am because of it. But. . . .</p>
<p>Praise God, there is a BUT ! Through the darkness of all those regrets there still stands a Cross of forgiveness and cleansing and He pays the debt owed for all of it. ALL! Redemption! Suich a great word of comfort, isn’t it?</p>
<p>But Restoration. I had never really thought much about it until one day when I was sharing with someone who was hurting, and I told her about how I understood because I had messed up and made some bad choices just as she had and how that sometimes there are consequences we can’t change, but we can grow through them and use them. She asked me how in the world could that be? I read 2 Cor. 1:4 to her, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”</p>
<p>It was at that moment that I, myself, understood the whole thing of Restoration: When I am willing to accept God’s forgiveness and comfort, it is then that I can help someone else going through the same thing. And that, my friend, is when the ruins turn to rubies, and the locust loses out.</p>
<p>And so, Restoration has become my word for this year. Whenever I find a “regret” pestering my life and pulling me down, I will pray for a way to use it in the life of another and find redemption and restoration.</p>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-41216844141512254032012-06-07T16:07:00.000-04:002012-06-07T16:14:23.786-04:00Stepping into the Stream<p>“It’s amazing what happens when we are willing to step into the stream!” Dawn told me this in an email about a week ago as I told her about sending cards to nursing homes for forgotten elderly people who never get any mail or visitors. I couldn’t stop. I stood at that stream and saw the flow slowly moving and I stepped in. I don’t often do that. And most often, I’m sorry I didn’t. But when I do, I get caught up in the currant and find out that God already had this stream prepared with others who were willing to step in, do their part, until we all spill into an ocean where we see an enormous job completed by the most unlikely people in the most unlikely places with unique gifts to bring and talents to use.</p>
<p>Here I am. Just little, old me with not much to offer. Just a ton of weary, old craft supplies that I’ve saved over the years. Just a week or two ago, I planned on throwing it all in the dumpster. Simplify. Clean up. Travel light. Streamline. All the words thrown at me when I complain about my . . . . . .junk. I’m looking for the right word here. My parents were Dutch and they always used a word for junk lying around that looked messy and random. I don’t know how to spell it, but the phonetics would be “RUM-a-lah!” We all just knew what it meant: Toys scattered across the floor, books and papers strewn on the bed, or clothing not hung up or put in drawers. And that’s what all my crafting stuff is beginning to look like because I’m out of room. Rum-a-lah!</p>
<p>But the card thing. . . . It grabs me and won’t let go. I have all I need to send out tons of cards --- cardstock, envelopes, paper, die cut machine with tons of dies, rubber stamps --- you name it - I’ve got it.</p>
<p>So I get on eBay to find some ideas -- fresh stuff that will help me out. I find this one seller with the most beautiful of cards I’ve ever seen. I place my bids on about 10 of them. I couldn’t stop! After winning most of them, I email her and tell her what I’m doing, and can I purchase about 25 cards? I figured after I drool over them for a while, I would attach my own poems on the inside and take them to the nearest nursing home. Then, I receive an email back.</p>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj8D0PUB053CzwtAY0gVtjr-MJcKmGYYjKhNA3CV6NTqdqEmTzvqgoxmiH7xMnY4s9Ktby7uG6zIlQ9o9zZVIyS1PsQPO-Yqq1BiwyMChQygFEFtgAgCJYj5eTONYXPm_0oD5bMXBFII/s1600/scrappycard1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj8D0PUB053CzwtAY0gVtjr-MJcKmGYYjKhNA3CV6NTqdqEmTzvqgoxmiH7xMnY4s9Ktby7uG6zIlQ9o9zZVIyS1PsQPO-Yqq1BiwyMChQygFEFtgAgCJYj5eTONYXPm_0oD5bMXBFII/s400/scrappycard1.jpg" /></a>
<p>Here is someone else that is willing to step into the stream! She loves the idea and is sending me 25 handmade cards --- get this --- for free!!!!</p>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48dazKDxkVw0fkl2fZNVEBR8BcnGd-e6kHbIlrB1soRonRUVW6vi3dtZ5JkRzIsJ9vUCd15XufdiOzYYJcqZMh6V0qaskVI7wKky0SwhtDzva9EKgMGhDkqGkJgtmVXLyUit79qJDtUI/s1600/scrappycard2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48dazKDxkVw0fkl2fZNVEBR8BcnGd-e6kHbIlrB1soRonRUVW6vi3dtZ5JkRzIsJ9vUCd15XufdiOzYYJcqZMh6V0qaskVI7wKky0SwhtDzva9EKgMGhDkqGkJgtmVXLyUit79qJDtUI/s400/scrappycard2.jpg" /></a>
<p>I tell some friends about this and how I used old cards and cut the pictures, etc., and recycle them into new cards, and they are collecting up cards for me. More people stepping in the stream!</p>
<p>So here I am, busy as an excited little beaver, cutting away. My cards are cut, I have piles of coordinating stuff, I’m stamping, gluing, feeling like a third grader with glue sticks, LOTS of glitter, punches, coloring pens, etc., etc.</p>
<p>The real thing is --- I’ve always wondered how I could use my poetry in an effective, more reaching way. Why didn’t I think of cards like this?</p>
<p>Several people have asked to see the cards, so I’m putting some pictures here. I can’t believe this gal makes these cards so beautifully. If you want to buy some, you can find her on eBay here:</p>
<p>http://www.ebay.com/sch/scrappygalore/m.html?item=290720649424&sspagename=STRK%3AMEWNX%3AIT&rt=nc&_trksid=p3984.m1439.l2649&_trksid=p4340.l2562</p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NxMcS_fc9ueq7RVtR5GjlhBHrmX2UsCu7_3AiqTI9RWkAWzaHlumAvPMVjlDDpYOY4HhzR661DZCnkQumKqIjH5K4RBXef3YE-aRb7aEPOtcgeAvV8RlPaMiZHfi9-cX66aRx4fURAw/s1600/scrappycard3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="102" width="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NxMcS_fc9ueq7RVtR5GjlhBHrmX2UsCu7_3AiqTI9RWkAWzaHlumAvPMVjlDDpYOY4HhzR661DZCnkQumKqIjH5K4RBXef3YE-aRb7aEPOtcgeAvV8RlPaMiZHfi9-cX66aRx4fURAw/s400/scrappycard3.jpg" /></a></p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7g1wrW-LUWPudSlHasIjy4UCWn0A2H95539yMNYOterjyuPRY2KwNhuvdYw2KU88eZeCTtVqZIbCBHRBE1kwUu_iRtGhUXqSTZlYbbdIMwb5cOG-Nzv29snTqLwvHoiFGu0RozHyF7OU/s1600/scrappycard4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="140" width="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7g1wrW-LUWPudSlHasIjy4UCWn0A2H95539yMNYOterjyuPRY2KwNhuvdYw2KU88eZeCTtVqZIbCBHRBE1kwUu_iRtGhUXqSTZlYbbdIMwb5cOG-Nzv29snTqLwvHoiFGu0RozHyF7OU/s400/scrappycard4.jpg" /></a></p>
<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAc08GBy26Xj5qvQP8xLQRy0JqSWVy8Uti1lfh6iUETPzvMzak1h_JxJe_DOdVSPDRj0r7mdL0Bdyd6U7TnoGLOGkMCv-Q3fleTJQNGOMACQ9NnDA3Ppoidz8i_k_y8Uu60qnyJiJl2o/s1600/scrappycard5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="140" width="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAc08GBy26Xj5qvQP8xLQRy0JqSWVy8Uti1lfh6iUETPzvMzak1h_JxJe_DOdVSPDRj0r7mdL0Bdyd6U7TnoGLOGkMCv-Q3fleTJQNGOMACQ9NnDA3Ppoidz8i_k_y8Uu60qnyJiJl2o/s400/scrappycard5.jpg" /></a></p>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-34621263144319439942012-06-01T19:21:00.001-04:002012-06-01T19:47:39.302-04:00Can You See?<p>It's Five-Minute-Friday, and today's word is "SEE." The rules are:</p>
<p>1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking</p>
<p>2. Link back here and invite others to join in.</p>
<p>3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community... So here we go. . .</p>
<b><p>Her face<p>
<p>Her eyes</p>
<p>I look into her soul</p></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaem9v64PciV10TIVaK540K2MJG4pjuBuA3BircW4gjLlxh-YrREeVa9xVzPAeSHj3gDFmwPY5LavWXDSoyfcOgzJs-E-O94qa70Bnjz8iVL6pLVTZ_hozSXFke5qyU4xOrMAnOhk6Qg4/s1600/elderly1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaem9v64PciV10TIVaK540K2MJG4pjuBuA3BircW4gjLlxh-YrREeVa9xVzPAeSHj3gDFmwPY5LavWXDSoyfcOgzJs-E-O94qa70Bnjz8iVL6pLVTZ_hozSXFke5qyU4xOrMAnOhk6Qg4/s400/elderly1.jpg" /></a></div>
<b><p>And I see fear</p>
<p>Fear of being alone</p>
<p>Fear of going hungry</p>
<p>Fear of being cold</p>
<p>Fear of all today will bring.</p></b>
----
<b><p>Her face</p>
<p>Her eyes</p>
<p>I look into her soul</p></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEMOF_BrCC07hTEQrBswV2SEcI0ed-R2MV-sUY-mY-5B8H-iajS9-TVSKf5ADT7SQh2-fG4hExjUyowensvwVSkhLLS0ixLNng-VDCcypOfPPEPlw19zMrc0QHnA6E3hbkTp1nF3S-07c/s1600/elderly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="341" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEMOF_BrCC07hTEQrBswV2SEcI0ed-R2MV-sUY-mY-5B8H-iajS9-TVSKf5ADT7SQh2-fG4hExjUyowensvwVSkhLLS0ixLNng-VDCcypOfPPEPlw19zMrc0QHnA6E3hbkTp1nF3S-07c/s400/elderly2.jpg" /></a></div>
<b><p>I see hopeless</p>
<p>Longing for someone</p>
<p>Longing for love</p>
<p>Missing yesterdays of long ago</p>
<p>Dreading more tomorrows of what is now</p></b>
----
<b><p>His face</p>
<p>His eyes</p>
<p>I look into his soul</p></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqVs8H96qc_1alJEuCIszZBaE34L8Ru2mqRTzSz2Qyp3FgsH0UUdYW_dmZCfDsHzOU9c_HKCkh2Pqapj8ZhxkKHHFmAsxfOBA0yI1X2GzYzV2nRbocFbJj53a7Nh_Ejwag3nKqFllyv4/s1600/elderly4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="196" width="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqVs8H96qc_1alJEuCIszZBaE34L8Ru2mqRTzSz2Qyp3FgsH0UUdYW_dmZCfDsHzOU9c_HKCkh2Pqapj8ZhxkKHHFmAsxfOBA0yI1X2GzYzV2nRbocFbJj53a7Nh_Ejwag3nKqFllyv4/s400/elderly4.jpg" /></a></div>
<b><p>And I see sadness</p>
<p>Reaching for someone who still needs him</p>
<p>Reaching for love unconditional</p>
<p>Reaching for trust and acceptance</p>
<p>Reaching for a hug, a snuggle, the sound of a soft purr</p></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5pHYXyVfoP0k9EjngXJNeUzqMl6k02D3AejAMd-z2iRX_iZjuTJVhV_tR8l4NB7zv_asiT_8puk1KPqAbgPfK6nwwIZMGATMH5FhNx0M19GOKmUOQ6p-_xzwerjviNJsujvoGxybVuk/s1600/elderly9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="222" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5pHYXyVfoP0k9EjngXJNeUzqMl6k02D3AejAMd-z2iRX_iZjuTJVhV_tR8l4NB7zv_asiT_8puk1KPqAbgPfK6nwwIZMGATMH5FhNx0M19GOKmUOQ6p-_xzwerjviNJsujvoGxybVuk/s400/elderly9.jpg" /></a></div>
----
<b><p>Their faces</p>
<p>Their eyes</p>
<p>And I see their love</p></b>
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<b><p>Clinging to all that was between them</p>
<p>Clinging to what still is</p>
<p>Clinging to what little may still be</p>
<p>Clinging to all to all they have left -- each other.</p></b>
----
<b><p>Her face</p>
<p>Her eyes</p>
<p>I look into her soul</p></b>
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<b><p>Hope rises in her heart</p>
<p>Hope reaches out</p>
<p>Hope is tender in its kiss</p>
<p>Hope brings a smile once again</p></b>
<p>-----Cora</p>
<p>During the month of June, <b>The Forgotten Ones: Compassion for the Elderly</b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/compassionfortheelderly"></a> is striving to bring some love and hope to the millions of forgotten elderly men and women in the nursing homes of America and around the world. Many of these people never have a visitor, a phone call, a gift or a card for year after year until they die . . . Alone.
Compassion for the Elderly has a Facebook page and you can access it from <b>here</b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/compassionfortheelderly"></a>. If you wish to participate in sending cards this month, here is Pam’s email address: <b>pamohalloran@yahoo.com </b>-- and she will send you a list of Nursing homes with the addresses and you can become a part of bringing at least one smile to one of these faces. (Or, you can contact me at: <b>countrypatches1@verizon.net</b>) Won’t you help?</p>
<p>Linking up with:</p>
<center><a href="http://thegypsymama.com/category/five-minute-friday/"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_lCeOMfY0_fQ/TWly2m-jN_I/AAAAAAAAFEY/k8HJ__cvkws/s200/5%20minute%20friday.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-37757406520312670082012-05-29T13:57:00.002-04:002012-05-29T16:43:12.802-04:00Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday!<p>He says to open our Bibles to 1 Peter 2:1-3. We bow our heads and ask the Lord to open our eyes and hearts to what He has to say to us. My pen is in my hand. My notebook is on my lap. My Bible is open to the appropriate place.</p>
<p>He points out the word, “therefore,” the first word in this chapter, and reminds us to always ask, What is it there for? The preceding chapter ends talking about the Word of the Lord enduring forever, never changing in an ever-changing world. I think of how my world has changed, things I could not control, things I never thought would happen, things I can’t go back and fix, things that might change tomorrow. I liked the statement that the Book I was holding open in my hands would never change and would endure through anything forever!</p>
<p>He continues with the passage: As a result of this Word enduring forever, what was our reaction to be in light of this?</p>
<p> 1. Lay aside all malice (wicked ill will towards others), a desire to see someone trip and fall.</p>
<p>2. Deceit -- deliberately dishonest.</p>
<p>3. Hypocrisy - a front, a mask, trying to portray yourself as something you are not.</p>
<p>4. Envy -- When you compare yourself to others and you feel you are coming up short. But we should know that He deals with each of us personally, and supplies each of us with exactly what we need.</p>
<p>5. Slander -- Did you know that even TRUTH can hurt other people if spoken with the intent to belittle?</p>
<p>There are times when we should just keep our mouths shut!</p>
<p>It is these five things that we need to put aside.</p>
<p>And then something happens. Deep within my heart. Almost a voice, a whisper. VERY distracting to me as I like to take good notes. But HE wouldn’t quit. And so I listen.</p>
<p>“Why is it you never talk to me about YOU?”</p>
<p>“What???” I think silently.</p>
<p>“You heard me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I did, but what’s that got to do with this sermon?” (As I’m trying to listen to Pastor and take notes.)</p>
<p>“Everything!”</p>
<p>I try to squish it down, part of me taking notes:</p>
<p>Verse 2 says we should be as newborn babies, as innocent as these sweet ones, cleansed, with none of the above blemishes, with no unrighteousness, and desiring (longing for) His word. The word, desire, shows a continuous action, to keep on desiring.</p>
<p>Pastor says, God loves us as we are, but doesn’t want to leave us there. He wants to see us grow and change. How does this happen? Through His Word. We should desire it in such a way that nothing keeps us from it. And once we have tasted it, nothing will keep us away.</p>
<p>Verse 3 uses the word “gracious.” Peter wrote in Greek, but he spoke in Aramaic. So what was he really saying here? In Aramaic, this was an often used word, like when you put out a delicious meal, fantastic, more than good!</p>
<p>“So when are we going to talk about YOU?”</p>
<p>There it was again.</p>
<p>I go home frustrated. After all, I pray! A lot! I sit all afternoon stewing. I start tearing apart my prayers.</p>
<p>I pray for others -- whenever anyone comes to mind, I usually pray for them and if I know of any need in their life, I will pray about that, too.</p>
<p>I’m thankful. I try to thank Him for all things, even the hard things. Since reading Ann’s book, 1000 gifts, I’ve even been more thankful than ever.</p>
<p>I come to Him with my needs, my failures, my sins. . . What in the world is He asking of me when He says, “When are we going to talk about YOU?”</p>
<p>I finally have to admit, I don’t talk about ME -- the real, personal, the intimate, the what’s-troubling-me ME! I don’t talk about dreams and disappointments, likes and dislikes, gains and losses, etc.</p>
<p>“Can’t you just read my writings, Lord? It’s all in there!”</p>
<p>“No, we are not pen pals. What’s so hard about face to face, ear to ear, get to know each other kind of talk?”</p>
<p>And so --- my life takes a new direction. Prayer will change. Tomorrow will be different.</p>
<p>Did you get that from this sermon???? I searched my notes and I didn’t see it. But that’s what I heard on Sunday, and I’ll live it Monday, and Tuesday. . . And Wednesday.. . .</p>
Linking up with other bloggers who heard it on Sunday and are striving to put it into practice on Monday. You can find their posts here:
<center><a border="0" href="http://michellederusha.com/" target="_blank"> <img src="http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab239/mderusha/HearItUseItImage-1.jpg"/></a></center>
<center><a border="0" href="http://www.shandaoakleyinspires.com/" target="_blank"><img src="
http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa401/shandaoakley/heart.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-61840205543228213332012-05-25T11:45:00.002-04:002012-05-25T11:47:16.225-04:00Remembering on Memorial Day!Please scroll down to the bottom of my blog and turn off the music player so you can give your attention fully to this video!
<iframe width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gpLdrvPHYVg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-11484901194834809392012-05-21T16:44:00.002-04:002012-05-21T16:47:57.253-04:00Still Counting my Blessings!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p>661. A short visit with a Rose-breasted Grosbeak. I’m sure my feeder was just a short stop for refueling on his trip back to his northern summer home. If you are waiting for one to come back, he’s on his way!</p>
<p>662. Searching for a “roadmap” of sorts or a plan to begin a home group study and it all coming together in the dark hours of a sleepless night.</p>
<p>663. A much needed shower in the morning hours.</p>
<p>664. Watching the heavy, wet branches of my sycamore tree bend low as they are washed clean.</p>
<p>665. Hugh leaves --- big enough to be the perfect umbrella for a titmouse caught in the rain.</p>
<p>666. How all the leaves glisten in the sunlight after the rain.</p>
<p>667. Watching a group of turkey vultures all land together on the limb of a dead tree, and that limb cracking and falling under their weight. I don’t often laugh out loud, but this just cracked me up to see them all squawking and flapping and looking under their feet as their perch crashed to the ground.</p>
<p>668. Stressing over a mother cat as she tried to get her kittens to cross a busy road. I can’t stand to watch, but I always do. I don’t understand the process --- as these kittens get old enough, Momma takes them on this long journey to --- who knows where --- and just when I think they are gone and lost for good, they all come back, starving, wild, scared and skinny. This group made it between the cars across the road and decided to rest under my car.</p>
<p>669. My Ninja blender/ice crusher. I am on a mission to make my own iced coffees and smoothies.</p>
<p>670. Two angels who took time out of their own schedules to mow and weed wack my lawn. Thank you Jarred and Daniel!</p>
<p>671. A car that will not die. It just keeps going, and going, and going. . . .!!!</p>
<p>672. A beautiful, delicious dinner prepared by special friends.</p>
<p>673. Comforting a friend who begins her jouney with breast cancer, hearing the courage and faith in her voice, glad I could be a living witness to what God can do in the worst-case scenerios!</p>
<p>674. Finding strength and support from friends when eating right and dieting are NOT what I want to do.</p>
<p>675. Sticking to it and shopping right, inspired by new recipes.</p>
<p>676. My washing machine. How did I get so much laundry for just 2 people? I can’t imagine taking it all down to a river and washing it all on a stone. . . .!!!!</p>
<p>677. Digging my way through a Bible Study on the Women of the Old Testament and wondering if I could really teach a group of young women. . .???!!!!</p>
<p>678. My “gal” all excited about me thinking about teaching and opening her home for this to happen!</p>
<p>679. Adding a new food to my diet, Quinoa, and loving it! A grain full of protein and tastes delicious!</p>
<p>680. Eating lunch out with a friend, enjoying fellowship together, as well as good food.</p>
<p>681. Realizing Buster is well aware of wardrobe and puts together what will happen when I wear certain things. Like. . . Old yellow Crocs are ok as I stay home when I wear those. Black crocks are nerve wracking. . . I’m going out, probably shopping which means treats, but I’m gone -- not good. . . Good black shoes, nice blouse and makeup mean I’m going to be gone for a while -- reason to pout! Nothing in it for Buster.</p>
<p>682. Flycatchers teaching their young ones in the birdhouse their song. I don’t think they are allowed to come out until they have it right.</p>
<p>683. Fresh eggs from my sister’s chickens.</p>
<p>Linking up with Ann VosKamp and a multitude of others who are still counting. . .!</p>
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-53986633158060759832012-05-18T11:10:00.003-04:002012-05-18T11:19:46.672-04:00Perspective<p>On Fridays, a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.</p>
<p>Your words. This shared feast.</p>
<p>Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.</p>
<p>Today's topic?</p>
<p><b>Perspective</b></p>
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<p>Sometimes, it takes a radical change in life to see things from another perspective. I was always one who shyed away from people who were sick, especially those who were suffering with cancer and going through treatments, surgery, and radiation. I just didn’t know what to say, what they wanted to hear. I felt inadequate and had no idea what they were going through. I think back now to how cold and callous I must have seemed. My heart aches for a “second chance,” to be able to go back and do it over. . .</p>
<p>As I walked through my own time of cancer, I became so aware of my feelings, my fears, my doubts, my strengths and my faith (or lack of it!). Nothing meant more to me than the encouragement and help of my friends, my sister, my mailman, etc. Sometimes it was just a hug with no words at all. Sometimes, it was something left at my door, a meal delivered, a card sent, a phone call, a yard mowed, etc. All these dear ones taught me how to care, how to give, how to love and strengthen someone going through these hard times.</p>
<p>During this past week, two of my friends were diagnosed with cancer. And I found myself reacting so differently than years before. My experience gave me a new perspective -- I knew how they felt, the shock of the diagnosis, the fears, the what if’s. I saw the pain in their eyes. And I didn’t even have to think of how to react or what to say --- it came spilling out of me. My new perspective has given me a new ministry, one where I can come alongside and walk with someone through this, giving encouragement, direction and support. . . . . STOP!</p>
<p>5 minutes are up!</p>
Linking up with:
<center><a href="http://thegypsymama.com/category/five-minute-friday/"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_lCeOMfY0_fQ/TWly2m-jN_I/AAAAAAAAFEY/k8HJ__cvkws/s200/5%20minute%20friday.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-63247476919537573822012-05-14T10:35:00.000-04:002013-08-14T12:18:33.371-04:00The Desert Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p>Have you ever been in that place where you feel so alone, you wonder if God is even hearing your prayers, And your reading of His Word seems dry and distant? I've been there. And I've wondered why. My first thought is always guilt -- that it must be me, that I've done something wrong, missed something that I was supposed to do, learn, be, or whatever, and got off track with my Christian life. But I have learned that the greatest lessons taught to me was in that Desert Place where I thirsted more than ever and walked with sand in my shoes to a place called nowhere. Lately, I've been reviewing the life of Hagar and how she trudged her way through the desert with her baby boy --- only to have a meeting with the Lord Himself and to learn His Name -- El Roi --- The God who Sees. And He provided a well to quench their thirst and gave hope, direction, and a vision of her future. He doesn't leave us there and He always has a purpose!</p>
<p><b>The Desert Place</b>
<b><p>To think that He would bring me here was never in my plan.</p>
<p>My dreams were quiet valleys where the deeper waters ran</p>
<p>To feed within Your pastures green and not a fear to trace --</p>
<p>Oh, Father, why the choice of this, the lonely desert place?</p>
<p>Paths that lead me nowhere, and I walk them all alone.</p>
<p>Futile days of desert heat, and nights that chill the bone.</p>
<p>I’m tired, Lord, so tired of the heavy, aching heart!</p>
<p>Tired of defeated days before they even start.</p>
<p>Where can I find my song again? Oh, Father, can it be</p>
<p>That even in this desert place you have forgotten me?</p>
<p>“I never will forsake thee!” Oh, how sweet the promise is!</p>
<p>To know that I am not alone, for I’m a child of His.</p>
<p>Oh, Father, may I learn that you will feed me with thy bread,</p>
<p>That somewhere in this desert place you have a table spread.</p>
<p>Teach me all the lessons which you think that I should know,</p>
<p>And may I pay attention to where e’er thy footsteps go,</p>
<p>So when another pilgrim finds his way into this land,</p>
<p>And cries, “I am so lonely!” I can say, “I understand.”</p>
<p>I will not doubt that through it all, You know what’s best for me.</p>
<p>And may I find within this place my chosen ministry.</p>
<p>And when the evening hours come and sunlight starts to dim,</p>
<p>I’ll know that I was not alone, but walked today with Him.</p>
<p>--Cora Eelman</p></b>
Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-5714162071417729012012-05-08T17:31:00.001-04:002012-05-09T14:49:52.767-04:00My Mother's Greatest Gift<p>It was Christmas. And I was six. First grade half done, and I could now read. I was proud, and I loved all my books. I loved my little Sunday School papers. Letters, the alphabet, words. . . . They all came together for me, opening up a whole new world.</p>
<p>Early in the morning light of that Christmas day which we all impatiently waited for, we found a pile of gifts wrapped in brightly colored paper. Simple gifts --- like a roll of white shelf paper and a box of crayons. I thought I could color my way around the world with that much paper! A doll from my namesake aunt who lived so far away. It was dressed in a crocheted dress that my grandmother had made.</p>
<p>But the gift I cherished most of all was given to me by my Mother. It was a Bible. I loved the smell of that new book with the thin, crisp pages. But what made it so special was my name in gold embossed on the front cover. Inside, in her beautiful handwriting, she wrote my name after the words, ‘This Bible belongs to. . . .” and after the words “From” it said, “Her Mother.”</p>
<p>I carried that Bible every.single.Sunday of my childhood. It wasn’t until my Junior year of High School that I got a new Scofield Reference Bible ---- THE Bible to have at that time. But I kept my old Bible. It was special. My first. And it was from my Mom. And she was gone. Forever. It was all I had of her heart. I had no picture or momento that would link me to her. Only my Bible.</p>
<p>I kept that Bible no matter where I went. And sometimes I went far. As far as a wandering heart can take a
Rebellious, proud, prodigal daughter. I always knew where it was. I wanted it close -- just in case. I knew my way around it, where to find certain verses that would win an argument, where to find my way back, where to find the cross, where to find grace and forgiveness. Within its covers were memories -- some so sweet, others so haunting. I won “sword drills” with that Bible, memorized verses and chapters, did my Sunday School lessons, and looked up verses in Junior Church. It convicted me, comforted me, and sometimes, confused me. But it laid out a roadmap, always showing me the right way, the old way, the one way that was well traveled, deep with ruts made by those who had gone before. That way always led by the way of the cross.</p>
<p>Now? Maybe 50 Bibles later -- all sizes, colors, versions, paraphrases, --- I still have my Mother’s Bible.
It’s stiff now, the binding cracking and brittle (kind of like me) as it gets older. But it never changes. Its words, its message, its power are still all they ever were, and will remain so through eternity’s ages.</p>
<p>Sometimes a Mom doesn’t know the importance of a gift slipped under a tree on a frosty Christmas morning.
She didn’t know that a few years later she would be taken suddenly from me. No good-bys, no last words,
No hugs --- but she left the greatest gift of all. All I would ever need to get me through the good times, the bad times, up the steepest mountains and down into the deepest of valleys. It brought me safe thus far, and it will bring me safely Home.</p>
<p>Thank you, Mom, for the greatest gift a Mom could give. I am forever grateful!</p>
<p>And if you thank YOUR mama on your blog and link up with Ann VosKamp — you will help support a mothering educational project in Haiti just through your gratitude.
<b>The 1000 Moms Project</b> is about 1000 people standing up and thanking their mom publicly (what mom doesn’t want a gift like this for Mother’s Day?) – and we’ll match your honoring of mothers by funding a Maternity/Child Survival Program in Haiti for a whole year. (You can read all about it<b> here</b>)</p>
<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/05/what-every-mother-has-to-know-before-mothers-day/what-every-mother-has-to-know-before-mothers-day" target="_blank">
<div class='p3-img-protect p3-img-protect-aligncenter no-orig-alignclass' style='width:240px;'>
<img class='p3-overlay' style='width:240px;height:240px;' src='http://www.aholyexperience.com/wp-content/themes/prophoto3/images/blank.gif' /><img alt="1000 Moms Project" src="http://www.aholyexperience.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/1000Moms_button8.png"/></div></a></center>
<center><a href="http://www.canvaschild.com/" target="_blank" title="Imperfect Prose"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3s5KmhxpIYU/T4Inziu4R4I/AAAAAAAAENk/LTq221viFVc/s144/imperfectprose.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-82324264968263443132012-05-07T10:12:00.000-04:002012-05-07T21:49:52.713-04:00He Sings!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwArA1apt3G4DUV5hPr4K_gREAbXBZC-gqjiGB5EX020Q3nZ_KAtHRHpANDkrkQii7IJdl4JJjyVSlxyxZ2-hImAqCZSeQzCSfW5krurmU3G3_DR5yXY4bnyDkpPg2h_DMI4K8WB-FDnI/s1600/mockingbird3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwArA1apt3G4DUV5hPr4K_gREAbXBZC-gqjiGB5EX020Q3nZ_KAtHRHpANDkrkQii7IJdl4JJjyVSlxyxZ2-hImAqCZSeQzCSfW5krurmU3G3_DR5yXY4bnyDkpPg2h_DMI4K8WB-FDnI/s400/mockingbird3.jpg" /></a></div>
<b>Sing to the LORD a new song; Sing to the LORD, all the earth! -- Psalm 96:1</b>
<p>He sings!</p>
<p>He always sings.</p>
<p>Early in the morning hours,</p>
<p>before the sun rises over the trees,</p>
<p>he is there on the top of the pole,</p>
<p>singing his songs with his head directed towards Heaven.</p>
<p>He sings in the rain,</p>
<p>in the midst of the storm,</p>
<p>shakes off the droplets as the thunder passes into the distance,</p>
<p>and sings again</p>
<p>as the sun breaks through the clouds.</p>
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<p>He sings!</p>
<p>As the red and orange ball of fire</p>
<p>sinks slowly behind the pine trees</p>
<p>He finds the highest tip of a tree</p>
<p>where he can see the last rays of what we call day,</p>
<p>and sings his songs again . . .</p>
<p>And again. . .</p>
<p>And again!</p>
<p>He knows them all,</p>
<p>and he learned them well.</p>
<p>And each bird in the woods</p>
<p>has their own special lullaby</p>
<p>sung to them as they settle into darkness.</p>
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<p>He used to irritate me.</p>
<p>But there came a time</p>
<p>when I needed a song sung into my soul.</p>
<p>A time when I had none of my own,</p>
<p>no notes on a score,</p>
<p>no words on a page,</p>
<p>no rhyme,</p>
<p>no rhythm,</p>
<p>no melody.</p>
<p>I picked up my hymnbook,</p>
<p>and it was almost as if</p>
<p>Mr. Mockingbird had spoken to me ---</p>
<p>“Just pick one,</p>
<p>and sing it with all your heart,</p>
<p>like you mean it,</p>
<p>and don’t stop til you get it right,</p>
<p>til it turns your soul inside out.”</p>
<p>The old hymnbook fell open to</p>
<p>“My Jesus, I Love Thee, I know thou art Mine.”</p>
<p>And best I could, I sang.</p>
<p>Things change when the heart sings.</p>
<p>Songs heal wounds.</p>
<p>Hymns take us to the Cross.</p>
<p>They dry tears so we can see His face,</p>
<p>they lift us from the muck of self,</p>
<p>to the presence of the Father.</p>
<p>They remind us of who we are</p>
<p>and refresh a parched soul.</p>
<p>They find words we can’t seem to find</p>
<p>and whisper them into the ears of our beloved Lord. . .</p>
<p>And He sings them back to us in love,</p>
<p>and grace,</p>
<p>and compassion . . .</p>
<p>only as He can sing.</p>
<p>And so today,
I sing my gratitudes. . .</p>
<p>653. That you are my gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou.</p>
<p>654. That I love you because you first loved me.</p>
<p>655. That you purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree.</p>
<p>656. That you wore a crown of thorns on your brow for me.</p>
<p>657. That I will have eternity to adore you.</p>
<p>658. That a mansion awaits for me.</p>
<p>659. That I will sing for You with a crown on my brow.</p>
<p>660. That my song will be a love song, and like my bird, I’ll just keep singing it over and over and over. . . !</p>
Linking up with Ann VosKamp and so many others who continue to look for all the blessings in the moments of their days and are offering up their gratitudes:
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>
<center><a border="0" href="http://www.shandaoakleyinspires.com/" target="_blank"><img src="
http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa401/shandaoakley/heart.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-67123312306332265752012-04-30T09:05:00.000-04:002012-04-30T13:11:54.790-04:00Thank you, Emmanuel!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p><b>Emmanuel -- The God who is with me.</b> Several days ago, someone was talking about this Name of God, first prophesied in the Bible (Isa. 7:14) as the Savior who would come, and then fulfilled in Matthew 1:23. “God with Us!” Born in human flesh, walking on the earth with us!</p>
<p>Each of the names of God gives us a little more insight into the character and qualities of who He is. This name, Emmanuel (Or Immanuel), is perhaps the most personal and draws Him close to each of us individually. As I thought about this name this past week, I began to make a list of all the times He was with me. Somehow, I could just hear the whisper of His name as I wrote each of these down. My conclusion? He has always been there! Even in those times before He was my Savior, He was there, drawing me, calling after me, protecting me, knowing that one day, I would turn my face upward, and He would draw me out of the pit I had dug for myself. </p>
<p>Thank you, Lord, that</p>
<p>631. <b>You were there with me</b> when I was born, knew my name, knew my end from my beginning, <b>and loved me</b>.</p>
<p>632. <b>You were there with me</b> when I contracted spinal meningitis as a three month old baby, sparing my life so that one day, I would know that <b>You loved me.</b></p>
<p>633. <b>You were there</b>, sending a pastor to sit by my father’s side - one he did not know, but changed the course of his life and mine, putting me on a path where I would find out that <b>You loved me</b>.</p>
<p>634. <b>You were there</b>, protecting me as a child, as I rode my tricycle into traffic and other dangerous places because, as a Father, <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>635. <b>You were there with me</b>, as I held a dead sparrow in my little chubby hands, questioning all the why’s of death -- <b>and you loved me!</b></p>
<p>636. <b> You were there with me</b>, as I innocently walked through streets in neighborhoods that were not safe, <b>and you loved me</b>!</p>
<p>637. <b>You were there with me</b>, the night my mom went Home to You, leaving a deeply grieving dad to care for five bewildered children, and you wept with us, <b>and loved me</b>.</p>
<p>638. <b>You were there</b>, in the closet with me, hiding from a relentless abuser, and you felt my pain, <b>and you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>639. <b>You were there with me</b>, when I knew I was a sinner and received your cleansing and promise of eternal life, and you welcomed me home and <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>640. <b> You were there</b>, as I struggled with guilt and painful memories, secrets, and burdens I wasn’t meant to carry, and you constantly reminded me that <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>641. <b>You were there</b>, sadly looking on as I walked away from you, thinking I could do life on my own, but still, <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>642. <b>You were there</b>, with tears of joy as you watched me come back home to you, and you told me that still, as always, you forgave me <b>and loved me</b>.</p>
<p>643. <b>You were there</b>, the day I realized I was not a marred, useless, broken vessel, but rather, a princess of a King and dressed in beautiful, royal robes of white, and looked into my eyes, and <b>told me you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>644. <b>You were there</b>, the day I was diagnosed with cancer, orchestrating the whole scene to bring me the care I needed, and held me up and <b>told me you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>645. <b>You were there</b>, through the hardest days of chemo, surgery, and burning days of radiation, always holding me up, helping me take the next step, to do the next thing, and told me I could do it with your help, because <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p>646. <b>You were there</b>, saying “I can” when my heart cried, “I can’t,” and gave me strength while you whispered that <b>you loved me</b>.</p>
<p><b>You were always there</b>! My Emmanuel! My God who is always with me and will never leave me, nor forsake me! Why would I doubt His presence in my tomorrows? Think today of the times He has been with you, make a list, and thank Him for being the God who is with us, always there, always yours, who will never forsake you!</p>
<p>Sometimes, we thank Him for what we see in our every moments of the day. But sometimes, we reflect on what we see in our rear view mirrors --- the places we were, the roads we traveled, the rivers we crossed and the mountains we climbed. And there, in the reflection of that rear view mirror, we see we were never alone. Emmanuel, My God who is with me, is there, and I see His image in it all. And so, my list of gratitudes are for these places in my life which made me stronger, and planted my feet steadfastly in a hope that will not disappoint. Joining a community of wonderful people who are also counting their gifts at:</p>
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-89597256313272622982012-04-27T14:11:00.000-04:002012-04-27T16:05:13.843-04:00Community -- Five Minute Friday<p><b>Five minute Friday</b></p> <p>We bloggers write for five minutes flat on Fridays.
We set a timer, throw caution to the winds and try to remember what it was like to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.
write for 5 minutes, no back-drafting, no editing –
</b></p>
<p>This week's topic to write about for 5 minutes flat is <b>COMMUNITY:</b></p>
<p> GO!--</p>
<p>I am not one who seeks out community, groups of people, lots of friends, etc. I'm one whose first instinct is to run FROM these things. I'm a loner, a hermit, and I hide myself away. But I've learned the value of looking into someone's eyes and seeing love, trust, friendship, and yes, even the image of God Himself. I've learned to hug, embrace, smile, and risk turning myself inside out, and I have these (and more) to thank for that:</p>
<p>Marty, the one who calls me “Momma” and sees more in me than I will ever see.</p>
<p>Vanessa, the one who accepts me as I am, scars, scratches and dents and all.</p>
<p>Jackie, who hugs me every time she sees me, despite the pain she feels each time she is touched.</p>
<p>George, who always give me a Werther’s hard candy and says, “I love you best next to my dog!”</p>
<p>Ruthie, who always asks how I’m feeling and am I doing ok, and doesn’t take just “fine” for an answer.</p>
<p>Ron, whose eyes smile when he sits down behind me, always gently touching my hair to see if it will stay where it is put.</p>
<p>Liz, so full of grace and understanding, always sitting next to me in church, always a friend.</p>
<p>Dan, quiet, always a smile, always a problem solver, always a handshake, always a teacher.</p>
<p>Mike, who always has time for me, no matter what’s on my heart, no matter what he has to do, a keeper of confidences, someone who keeps his promise to pray.</p>
<p>Suzanne, quiet as a mouse, but always has a smile for you, no matter what, no matter where.</p>
<p>Peggy, a tender-hearted, do anything for you, down to earth, reality based, fun loving quilter.</p>
<p>Charlotte, shy, quiet, but as faithful as one can be, despite migraine headaches, always a sweet, kind word.</p>
<p>Lynn, so bubbly and full of smiles, always friendly with a hug and genuine concern.</p>
<p>George, quiet, but always there, always with a handshake and welcome.</p>
<p>MaryJane, a gifted encourager, a “walk beside you” type who sees God’s hand in everything.</p>
<p>Pastor Earl, whose only burden is to see his flock walk in God’s ways and understand His Word correctly.</p>
<p>Barry, a huge teddy bear with a huge tender heart for God.</p>
<p>There are others but I must . . . . <b>STOP</b>!</p>
<p>Visit all the others who are writing about community today at:</p>
<center><a href="http://thegypsymama.com/category/five-minute-friday/"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_lCeOMfY0_fQ/TWly2m-jN_I/AAAAAAAAFEY/k8HJ__cvkws/s200/5%20minute%20friday.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-69067696908361887742012-04-24T17:24:00.000-04:002012-04-27T20:33:25.621-04:00To Be In Control -- On Your Heart Tuesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Coincidence?? I think not! Over the past few days, I have had the privilege of “running into” several dear souls who have struggled hard to lay aside weights that hold them down, and I am humbled by their determination, faith, hope, and victories. I introduced you to Vanessa, a real hero and tremendous friend. Yesterday, I find out that my friend, Nacole, over at<a href="http://sixinthehickorysticks.blogspot.com/"> sixinthesticks</a> will be sharing her story about the struggles she has had with anorexia. If ever there was a talented writer, she is one, and well worth your trip over there. You will not come away untouched. And again today, I find a new bloggy friend over <a href="http://byhisgrace211.wordpress.com">here</a>. Another dear one who seeks to be all that God would have her to be.
<p>I mention these heros because I not only admire their victories and the strength they have shown in their battles, but I have also realized today that I have left this part out of my posts and my stories about myself.
I’ve looked long and hard for reasons --- perhaps I don’t FEEL like I’m strong, that I’ve gained a true victory over things, and that if I DID shout praises of success, that I might shame myself in falling again.
It all boils down to pride, putting forth a picture of myself that is better than it is, making you think I have it all together when I don’t. . .well, you get the picture. Strange that I would tell you about abuse, a hard childhood, mistakes I’ve made, etc. That was easy. It’s easy to talk about what OTHERS do to YOU, but when we have to talk about what WE do to OURSELVES, it’s a whole ‘nuther ballgame.</p>
<p>Food is my addiction. It has been as far back as I can remember. I scrounged for pennies and spare change and ran three blocks to Prescott’s corner store for penny candy. One day, as I drooled over the candy counter, another boy came in with a brown bag full of soda bottles. He handed them to the cashier, and she gave him a quarter! My jaw dropped and my eyes were wide as marbles!!! Remember those days when soda came in glass bottles, you paid an extra five cents deposit on the bottle, and then returned them to get your nickel back? Well. . .that was the day I went into business for myself. I went everywhere, checking gutters, garbage cans, around the parks. . . Anywhere people drank soda, you would find me looking for bottles. And every.single.bottle I found turned into a candy bar. This was my start in the world of addiction.</p>
<p>I was a skinny kid growing up. Always made fun of, always last in line because I was so tall, always picked last for kickball, always dressed in in hand-me-down, old clothing. I never had the stylish, cute hair-do’s that the other girls had. My only claim to fame in grade school was that I was the playground champion of jump rope! I have my older sister to thank for that.</p>
<p>I can’t remember if I was ever really hungry as a kid. But I do remember always wanting food, and especially sweets. My Mom died when I was eight, and everything began caving in after that. I felt myself becoming smaller and smaller in what was then my little world. I didn’t want to be seen or noticed. I would not answer questions in class, or give reports or participate in anything. I hid myself away. And the older I got, the more alone I wanted to be. Away from the endless teasing, from all the things I could not make right, from a relentless abuser and his threats, and later from a step mother who really did not care for me as a person. There was no place whatsoever in my life that could say I was in control. Even the kitchen was off limits and food was eaten only at meals, and often dished out on my plate. No choices, no yes please or no thank you --- I ate what put in front of me.</p>
<p>As I entered Junior High and High School, I continued scrounging for change. My one control, my secret, my one source of satisfaction. I’d clean my older brother’s room once a week and look for change on his dresser, in his dirty pants pockets, under his bed, etc. I would use this to buy an ice cream sandwich in the lunch line or a candy bar after school from the vending machine at the bus stop. Again, my grades suffered greatly because of my lack of participation in class. I refused to give reports, give an oral book report, or answer questions in class, even if I knew the answers. I was a day dreamer --- drifting off into dreams of a better life, running away, what if I had been born to different parents, maybe being an only child, etc. etc.</p>
<p>I lost myself in reading -- Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Elsie Dinsmore, Christian novels, biographies and missionary stories. When I read my first collection of Christian poetry, a book written by Ava Christianson, I perked up. I thought I could write like this. And I began to write and write and write. I lost myself in writing, but would always throw it all away for fear someone would find it and make fun of me.</p>
<p>Somehow, I stayed thin all the way through High School, therefore, no one knew of my obsession for food. Perhaps it was the exercise of walking 2 miles each day and vigorous Gym classes 4 days a week. So my secret was well kept and my habits continued as long as I could find change or babysit now and then.</p>
<p>I was in big trouble when I worked for a summer at the Montrose Bible Conference in Pennsylvania. I was in the kitchen as a helper there. That wasn’t too bad, as there were people around all the time watching, but I managed to get a good share there. But when they asked me to run the snack shop after the evening services each day, I thought I had died and gone to heaven! Junk food heaven! Soda, candy, chips, and hamburgers and hot dogs. I became addicted to Tab, the diet soda.<p>
<p>After High School, I left home, went to Bible School, and continued with the same habits, craving food 24/7. I never thought of it as an addiction. I thought everyone was like me. But when I left Bible School, found a job and a place of my own, I knew I had a problem. Now I had my own source of funds to buy whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. As the years went by, the scale went up, and I didn’t care. I became a drive up junkie, going through all the hamburger lines. This was also the time when all-you-can-eat breakfast bars were so popular, and believe me, they didn’t like seeing me walk through the door. It wasn’t long before I was well over 300 pounds, probably pushing 400.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until I was in my 30’s that I began to think that this was a problem. I’d go to bed at night thinking, “tomorrow I’ll start a diet.” It was always tomorrow. Every.single.night --- tomorrow. Once in a while, I would start with some fad diet of the times. I’ve been on them all. I would lose some. Gain some. Lose some. Gain some. I did manage to bring that top weight down quite a bit, but never really lost it all. . . . Until. . . .</p>
<p>In the mid 80’s, a group of ladies in my church got together and we formed a weight loss group to try to encourage each other in our efforts. This was good for me, as there was some accountability and . . . A weekly weigh-in. One day, after a morning service, someone asked me if I was losing weight. That was encouraging. . . Until I turned away, and heard one say to the other, “She will never make it!” Everything changed at that moment in my life. I knew right then that I WOULD make it, even if it killed me! And so began the worst time of my life as I began using laxatives, eating 600 calories or less each day, using a treadmill, taking my dog on long, long walks, and weighing myself about 3 times a day. The weight came off fast and furious, and I was sick. I was dizzy and felt faint all the time and lived on the toilet. But I told myself that I was now in control of my life, and thought this was a good thing.</p>
<p>Here I was, skinny once again, just like I was in High School. And I was as miserable as when I was fat. I looked in the mirror and saw myself ugly and fat. I bought a million new outfits, but none satisfied my desire to look good. There was not one mirror in the house that reflected anything below the neck. I didn’t want to see it.</p>
<p>My unhappiness took me from Florida to Virginia, and I was there for four years, hiding away on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Slowly, but surely, I put all that weight back on, telling myself I was happier eating than when I was skinny and miserable. And for ten more years, I ate myself into the darkest time of my life.</p>
<p>It was during this time that I found a lump in my breast. My past blogging tells the story of that journey. Since I had no insurance, and no way to pay for any type of treatment, I let it go, acting like the stoic that didn’t care about life, death, cancer, etc. When I finally did go for help, I weighed in at a whopping 367 pounds. I remember the day that my oncologist spelled out to me that my weight dictated a much higher dosage of chemo, that this would be hard on my heart, and that there were risks to all of this. Also, he told me that my cancer was hormone positive, meaning that it was fed by hormones, and fat produces hormones. He did not hound me then, in fact, never mentioned it during treatment, which I appreciated so much. During those 9 months of chemo, surgery, and radiation, I lost a little, but nothing significant.</p>
<p>Then one day, I got the lecture. I knew if I was going to have any kind of life and do my part to keep the cancer away, I HAD to make some decisions. I had already done a lot of soul searching during thos 9 months. I knew I was a control freak. Isn’t it great how the Lord attacks the one subtle area of our lives that keep us from being all we could be. Food wasn’t the problem --- it was my way of being in control of me and my whole life. I knew that I built walls with food. It gave me a way to keep people at a distance. It didn’t matter if no one liked me -- I had food. For some reason, I really believed no one liked me. When you receive a diagnosis of cancer, there is that feeling of being out of control, nothing you can do to change things, and your life is dependent on someone else making the right decisions. I felt that sense of panic of not being in control, that I could not choose the outcome, that I could not choose to eat or not eat to make it all better. . . And ultimately, what I didn’t want to admit but knew all the time. . . That only the Lord was in control
Of my future and what would ultimately happen to me.</p>
<p>And so began the journey of weight loss -- at first, because I knew I would have to face a cranky oncologist with a scale, but later because I knew this would be the only thing I could do to help fight the recurrence of breast cancer.</p>
<p>Eating disorders are as different as each person who struggles with them. Each pain hidden in the heart is different. Some choose not eating, others over eat. Some hide their secret, others flaunt it. Some admit it, some live in denial. But all hurt. I’ve lived long enough and listened closely enough to see and hear the pain behind the masks of smiles and in the hollow laughter.</p>
<p>I am happy to say that for two years now, I’ve been able to control this and have lost 120 pounds now. I took a risk in sharing my heart with a few who love me without strings attached and who encourage me in so many ways. Someday soon, I just may buy a great big mirror --- one long enough to see all of me. I’m not there yet. But I have been willing to take a glance now and then at my reflection in a big window. That’s a start, right?</p>
<p>But ultimately, it is looking at my heart. It is what God sees, not this aging, sagging body. It’s about letting my eyes look up into His and know that He loves me, no matter what. It’s about finding forgiveness and grace without judgment or discrimination at the cross. It’s about new starts, new beginnings, new walks down old paths and good ways. It’s about becoming. . . Becoming a lady who can whisper grace to others just as He whispered His grace to me. It’s about holding out my hand and lifting up another hurting soul. It’s about walking out of darkness into the light of life.</p>
Linking up with:
<center><a border="0" href="http://www.shandaoakleyinspires.com/" target="_blank"><img src="
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<center><a href="http://www.canvaschild.com/" target="_blank" title="Imperfect Prose"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3s5KmhxpIYU/T4Inziu4R4I/AAAAAAAAENk/LTq221viFVc/s144/imperfectprose.jpg"/></a></center>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-26618091563002033132012-04-23T08:46:00.001-04:002012-04-27T20:33:59.262-04:00Showers of Blessings: Still Counting. . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfneuREufmgwps2W7G0blyaOkv4F1pSQ9-ATAx_uKRv8WoRFfn4jG43xESQvfQEb06ysHqV9lc2-EderpHNDA5hqmXYhyQuv5GghphVpuiB7hUBAqr2KO9_kiW0srvdLQKPWsOe5qFQiQ/s1600/rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfneuREufmgwps2W7G0blyaOkv4F1pSQ9-ATAx_uKRv8WoRFfn4jG43xESQvfQEb06ysHqV9lc2-EderpHNDA5hqmXYhyQuv5GghphVpuiB7hUBAqr2KO9_kiW0srvdLQKPWsOe5qFQiQ/s400/rainbow.jpg" /></a></div>
It’s been over a year now since I began this way of living ---- living in the moment, seeing in the moment, and recognizing each and every one of those moments contains a gift from God -- just for ME! Even after a year, I recognize very few of them. I get side tracked. I’m too busy fussing over something else. I’m easily distracted. And I miss life as He meant it to be for me. I don’t want my one big regret in life to be that I was in too much of a hurry to gather in my moments and live through them fully. And so today, I list just a small portion of those moments, thanking Him for these, wishing I had taken the time to see more:</p>
<p>615. Rain. Sometimes slow and steady, sometimes heavy, but still --- RAIN! I love the sound of rain dripping off the roof. We have needed rain for so long, and today was our day for WET. As I sat on my porch and listened to the sound I seem to love best, I thought about that song, what if blessings came like raindrops. . .???? How many do I not see? And if I did, would I be able to count them all?</p>
<p>616. Watching squirrels and birds alike catching droplets of water on the branches.</p>
<p>617. A beautiful reminder to hush into stillness the negative voice I hear speaking back at me in the mirror and rather, to listen to the whispers of grace.</p>
<p>618. Counting the myriad shades of green as Spring lets loose such an abundance of new growth.</p>
<p>619. A male cardinal gently feeding the love of his life the best he can find in the feeder.</p>
<p>620. Two extremely happy flycatchers taking up residence in my birdhouse.</p>
<p>621. Buster’s happy face and his willingness to do absolutely anything I ask if it will get him a fried pig’s ear. I melt every time I see the anticipation and longing in his face!</p>
<p>622. Being encouraged by this wonderful community of bloggers, and being able to pass on that same encouragement to others.</p>
<p>623. A pastor who is willing to open the Book of Hebrews weekly in our Bible Study and go slowly for people like me ----- like, word for word, one word at a time ---- and for the first time, I think I will understand it. I’ve shied away from Hebrews as a whole book study. But it’s time to pull up my big girl panties and grab a good hold of this book and learn it!</p>
<p>624. A homemade pizza (I even made the crust from scratch), with barbecue made from left over pork loin, pineapple, onions and cheese. I know, it’s not diet, but I needed . . . . Something good! And it was. And I’m thankful. No regrets.</p>
<p>625. A cheerful cashier at the grocery store, making it a tiny bit easier to spend so much more for such a little bit.</p>
<p>626. Learning to live peacefully with a loose lizard running through my house. I’m not sure the word “peaceful” is accurate. I did scream and jump on the chair when I saw it looking up at me right there at my feet! It’s HUGE! At least 8 inches long, black, shiney, and slimey looking. Where it came from is anyone’s guess, but it’s lightening fast and uncatchable. Any suggestions?????</p>
<p>627. The brave soul who knocked the wasp nest off my door. I was beginning to feel like I was being held hostage by all these creatures of nature.</p>
<p>628. Hearing whispers of grace in the beautiful song of the whipoorwill -- clear and sweet in the darkness of the night. I pray that I will sing like that when I find myself in the darkest of times -- singing all the songs I learned while walking in the light.</p>
<p>629. Cool, fresh, clean air with soft breezes after a period of much needed rain. Everything looks so clean and perky again.</p>
<p>630. Bloggy friends who are encouragers with their words, warriors of truth, and partners in prayer. I am honored to call them friends.</p>
Linking up with all those who are also counting their gifts moment by moment:
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-50255636238063352492012-04-19T10:49:00.001-04:002012-04-27T20:34:33.146-04:00Whispers of GraceYesterday, I was blog hopping and read the most beautiful post about listening to the whispers of Grace instead of all the negative voices that shout back at us from our mirrors. I don't know where I was, or I would direct you back there. The post ended in a question, asking what we were hearing today. And this is my response to that heart searching question:<br />
<br />
<b>Whispers of Grace<br />
<br />
Grace opens closet doors and reaches far<br />
As far as it must take to find me there,<br />
Hiding, scared, and fearing all that hurts,<br />
But Grace embraces, whispers words of care.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pm-JHN5ONLIsyVgsPu98iVpHFN03bkDx4jWtr2QOhXb5kooQ05YPtssHmtDOYQQX4y_ASfxjhkYnrNw-id6p-5jlc79VLeNH0CJgxZgDhYJVwzISeMyy0EVEzC-Wb7h8kqJb8-W0CaI/s1600/closet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="311" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pm-JHN5ONLIsyVgsPu98iVpHFN03bkDx4jWtr2QOhXb5kooQ05YPtssHmtDOYQQX4y_ASfxjhkYnrNw-id6p-5jlc79VLeNH0CJgxZgDhYJVwzISeMyy0EVEzC-Wb7h8kqJb8-W0CaI/s400/closet1.jpg" /></a></div>Grace sees the soiled dress, so ripped and frayed,<br />
Stained, and far beyond a needle and a thread,<br />
But Grace redresses me in robes of white,<br />
And whispers, This is all you need instead.<br />
<br />
Grace sees the dying embers of my dreams,<br />
Ashes of the bridges I have burned,<br />
But Grace with sweetest breath fans life anew<br />
And turns all my mistakes to lessons learned.<br />
<br />
Grace sees my feet, as I would start to stray,<br />
Leaving paths that lead to good and right,<br />
Grace picks me up, and points me in the way<br />
And places in my hand a guiding light.<br />
<br />
I listen to the voices in my soul<br />
Not Good Enough is knocking at my door,<br />
Unloved and Left Alone would stay too long,<br />
But Grace, in whispers, says, I love you more.<br />
<br />
Grace rebuilds the bridges I once burned,<br />
Leading back to Him who loves me so,<br />
How can such love be mine, I humbly cry,<br />
Grace whispers, And how much, you’ll never know!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzLKj4Y67dQqJjfrANhpqllV5R964Qw09CMYhXHR7izDXoEBsV_wdWYu50ky6hAjlI3gWJ5vOJRqPkLYwNi3aL142oPkOr7F8XiTOI1ZIaYQx2pTl9W8Q_BOsLCcplItbaN87EkUUVM4/s1600/gatesofheaven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="298" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzLKj4Y67dQqJjfrANhpqllV5R964Qw09CMYhXHR7izDXoEBsV_wdWYu50ky6hAjlI3gWJ5vOJRqPkLYwNi3aL142oPkOr7F8XiTOI1ZIaYQx2pTl9W8Q_BOsLCcplItbaN87EkUUVM4/s400/gatesofheaven.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So loud the voices, chasing from behind!<br />
Words that tear and rip my soul apart!<br />
So quiet, soft, a whispered breath of Grace,<br />
And all is calm again within my heart!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEDEh7NkKHXfdgA7qHKHWksdG9lhoeoDEdlAVPaxCdVkSLYJrbP8TRFDBriC7LFAAj1oG9U8Di-Y_US4zCHyD7rNJD7yngm66B4YFKpZhZnK1zC1lD81Zwo7FruZqHWbnOmIG7kOKKm4/s1600/wind1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="128" width="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEDEh7NkKHXfdgA7qHKHWksdG9lhoeoDEdlAVPaxCdVkSLYJrbP8TRFDBriC7LFAAj1oG9U8Di-Y_US4zCHyD7rNJD7yngm66B4YFKpZhZnK1zC1lD81Zwo7FruZqHWbnOmIG7kOKKm4/s400/wind1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
--Cora Eelman</b><br />
<br />
Lord, show me where I can whisper a breath of Grace today!Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-37039192490946900152012-04-16T11:54:00.002-04:002012-04-27T20:37:25.635-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaqi1w9cl0U7hjY4IQrtlKzv1TMnfrXRl8YPaZy43CA1yveDhFisHy2GLWLXAve_zTKsne8mou0N3rGi7L0kBy77816-sB-Id6m857qEpLdUcTxkNPdFCL4v5q363wcY5wCzZz6nqL2s/s1600/vanessamarty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaqi1w9cl0U7hjY4IQrtlKzv1TMnfrXRl8YPaZy43CA1yveDhFisHy2GLWLXAve_zTKsne8mou0N3rGi7L0kBy77816-sB-Id6m857qEpLdUcTxkNPdFCL4v5q363wcY5wCzZz6nqL2s/s400/vanessamarty.jpg" /></a></div><br />
She came into my life about a year ago, this breath of fresh air, bright and breezy, cheerful and loving. She was getting ready to (re)marry her true love in life, a guy from my church. We hit it off over dinner one night which was supposed to be a time of discussing building a website for his new CD and his music ministry. Instead, it was a time of sharing our life stories, where we had come from and where we had been brought to --- and we just clicked. Strange that this would happen! We are as different as night and day. The roads we traveled are from different ends of the world -- as far apart as any two roads could be. Here’s me, the goody-goody-two-shoes, raised in church, a Christian as long as she was old, and never knew anything about the streets, drugs, alchohol, abuse, etc. And there she is as low as a person can go. . . Never hearing about God and Jesus and what He did for her until one day someone told her she needed to be saved. Her response??? “Saved????? Saved from WHAT?????” I remember smiling but in awe of all of this. Was there ever a day that I did NOT know what being saved meant? I went to Sunday school from the cradle roll department on. And I’m looking into the bright eyes of one dear soul who had never heard, who was confused, hanging on to the last thread of life, crying out to God to somehow get her out of this hole. A God she never knew, didn’t know how to find Him, wondered if He was there, and would He even listen.<br />
To follow her through her story left me awe struck. How these two came through the pits of Hell, rescued by God, picked up and dressed in robes of white, and now sitting here in a restaurant full of people telling me all this just left me with no words. And since then, we have been close friends. Vanessa has enriched my life, caused me to grow, to dig for answers to questions that I did not knew could be questions, to find reasons and a basis for my faith.<br />
<br />
Yesterday was a glorious day as I was invited to share her day --- her fifth anniversary of being sober. Nothing better than a surprise party, a whole bunch of us churchy people, a whole bunch of other victors who are heros in my eyes, pizza and cake. But deep within me, the question came up: If this were me, would I have made it? Is there ANYTHING in my life that I have wanted and craved so badly but have given up for 5 years? I can hardly stick to a diet!<br />
<br />
And so, the next thing on my list of gathered blessings is<br />
<br />
606. Vanessa, and her victorious fight and celebration of sobriety.<br />
607. Her friendship with me, though we are so different.<br />
608. Her nonjudgmental ways of treating people around her.<br />
609. Her willingness to walk with you through anything and everything.<br />
610. Her honesty, risking asking the hard and deep questions.<br />
611. Our dinners together, staying so long and late, being the last ones to leave.<br />
612. Knowing every day is a struggle for her, but seeing her plug on through, clinging to Him for strength.<br />
613. Learning that I was so privileged to hear the Gospel from childhood. Something I always took for granted. <br />
614. Seeing that the Lord never gives up on someone, even though the world would just turn away.<br />
<br />
Linking up the Ann VosKamp and so many others who are counting their gifts and sharing them each Monday. You can click on the banner here and find everyone who is doing this and read their beautiful lists:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3093404210768657592.post-61698424366316886372012-04-12T17:22:00.001-04:002012-04-27T20:36:56.478-04:00He Loves Me Still!I really wanted to quit blogging, take my blog down, and leave this strange, wonderful world. But I couldn't! I've made some of the most wonderful friendships I've ever had here --- soul friends who are walking the same paths, striving for the same things, hurting deeply in the same ways, and rejoicing with the same songs. I weep when one leaves, as I feel that empty place they leave within my heart. All of you inspire me with the depths of your writing, the earnestness of your walk with the Lord, and the greatness of your desire to be the women (and men!) God wants to mold of you. I've been changed by all of this. Deeply changed. Recently, I've watched and listened to a struggling heart. I've prayed for peace, insight, and wisdom for this one. I've thanked Him for the victories, the smiles, and the light on this one's path. I'm amazed at the depth of her soul and her willingness to share it. My dear one, you know who you are, and this is for you:<br />
<br />
<b>He Loves Me Still<br />
<br />
I bend, my strength is all but gone to stand against the wind.<br />
A wind, relentless with intent that I should break,<br />
And fall into the mire of guilt and shame.<br />
My weakness cries it’s more than I can take.<br />
More than this frailest form can cling and hold,<br />
And roots I thought were deeper than the sea<br />
Now ripping, losing hold within my heart,<br />
And scattered at my feet, all splintered dreams of what I thought was me.<br />
<br />
He sees me there, a spineless wreck, holding in these hands my fractured self.<br />
I dare not look, my shame is pushing down this bent and broken child.<br />
He knows where I’m most weak, and likely to be broken in the storm,<br />
That storm that comes again, and still again, raging in the darkness strong and wild.<br />
And yet, He loves me still, so much, He lifts His nail-scarred, loving hands<br />
And cups my tear-stained face, then lifting mine to His,<br />
What cost Him all and everything flows through this heart of mine -<br />
Forgiveness! Can it be He loves me still, even after all of this?<br />
<br />
Cora Eelman</b>Cora from Hidden Richeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11066244776488896258noreply@blogger.com9