tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353054588725835982024-03-05T01:33:59.817-05:00MARCIA GADDIS...on the Healing Journey"Words fitly spoken are things of beauty and power that bring life and joy." Dallas Willard
"I write to discover what I know."
Flannery O'Connor
"I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn."
--Anne Frank'
"Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write."
― Rainer Maria RilkeMarcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-18283514394617018562023-08-30T10:00:00.001-04:002023-08-30T10:00:00.126-04:00Giving In To Our GriefWhen the moment of death comes for someone we love, we should give in to the moment. By that I mean we should take off our watch, put down our phone, gather round those closest and just simply "be" in the sorrow of our grief. Cry. Comfort each other. Pray, trusting God will give you His peace that comforts like nothing else.<br />
<br />
Coming to terms with death takes time to process. Even when we know it is imminent and we wait through the night and into the morning, the final breath of a loved one jolts our heart, makes it stop beating - or so it feels. We need time to process this reality of death. We need time to tend to our jolted and broken heart. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjXei4B7fRlPS8zrI0IS3_BX-bNKqQOHCr0LF73a897K_mpcaJoIvELoxYxr2ivv_8UJUMoSTzeaAkMJW7a3PEs0wApeRT68qmg8x9EGCZpsIRH3Wk0SCuvZ8fzcwFOG06LE9VyH9XD6N/s1600/014.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjXei4B7fRlPS8zrI0IS3_BX-bNKqQOHCr0LF73a897K_mpcaJoIvELoxYxr2ivv_8UJUMoSTzeaAkMJW7a3PEs0wApeRT68qmg8x9EGCZpsIRH3Wk0SCuvZ8fzcwFOG06LE9VyH9XD6N/s320/014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It is a time when no words are needed. It is a time when the strident sound of words crush our spirit and seem insignificant. It is a time to "be still and know that I am God." There just are no words to describe the depth of emotion felt in the moment a loved one dies.<br />
<br />
Maybe it is a sacred longing that God infuses into our spirits. A longing that recognizes the truth that this life is short and only a prelude to the concert that awaits us in Heaven. A longing for things to be made right. God, according to Ezekiel 18:32, says, "I take no pleasure in the death of anyone." God hates the isolated incidents of disease, crime, or violence - anything leading to death. God hates death. God knows more than we do and is working "according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will." ((Ephesians 1:11)<br />
<br />As we give into our grief, we can enter a time of quiet mourning:<br />
-we can know that God is working all things - even the death of a loved one- for his ultimate glory.<br />
-we can listen for God's still, small voice to guide us through the valley<br />
-we can trust that joy will come, maybe not tomorrow morning, but joy will return<br />
-we can be gentle to those around us who have little or no faith in God<br />
-we can pray knowing God is close to us, the broken-hearted and crushed in spirit<br />
-we can grow in our knowledge and understanding of God's grace and his mercy<br />
<br />
We are still broken-hearted , but we have God with us, and that is when healing comes.<br />
<br />
Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-27794255750939080632022-12-26T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-26T05:00:00.183-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 26 Peace<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sbQHNrLDxD_aJiAAAjczR21Labqaoay0xHTxVdPMeqo2EFqjOmsQWvp9nY6uRV9axxl9p0pN9RZJh67nC5kq80XnsBAGjc8nycDYFuKkU-5KjkDTVG7Ilg_gu1Fd2jdQ-hzgQ_ikoEMq/s604/st+francis+i+the+snow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="452" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sbQHNrLDxD_aJiAAAjczR21Labqaoay0xHTxVdPMeqo2EFqjOmsQWvp9nY6uRV9axxl9p0pN9RZJh67nC5kq80XnsBAGjc8nycDYFuKkU-5KjkDTVG7Ilg_gu1Fd2jdQ-hzgQ_ikoEMq/s320/st+francis+i+the+snow.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Pondering The
Path of Peace<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">They said we might
have snow on Christmas Day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh how I love a good snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The magic of quiet
snow falling during Christmas - oh, just the thought of it takes me back
remembering Christmases in Kentucky on my snow-covered hill<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– the wonder, the beauty, the silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>It can happen anywhere that the heart makes
room.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<h3><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; mso-ansi-language: EN;">In January of
2008 <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Atlanta</st1:place></st1:city>
was covered in a beautiful blanket of snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I couldn’t resist but to take a few pictures in the garden that now
looked so fresh and new even in the bleak of our winter of great sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:place w:st="on">St.</st1:place> Francis
looked especially peaceful and content with a white cap warming his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His presence standing strong there in the
garden offered me a new appreciation for the man who gave up all of his worldly
goods to be an instrument of peace during his life.<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<h3><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; mso-ansi-language: EN;">After visiting
his birthplace and the city for which he is named, I came home and disciplined
myself to memorize one of his prayers – maybe the one for which he is most
remembered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s see if I can say it
for you:<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<h3><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Prayer of Saint
Francis of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Assisi</st1:place></st1:city></span><o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Lord, make me an
instrument of your peace.<br />
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;<br />
where there is injury, pardon;<br />
where there is doubt, faith;<br />
where there is despair, hope;<br />
where there is darkness, light;<br />
and where there is sadness, joy.<br />
<br />
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek<br />
to be consoled as to console;<br />
to be understood as to understand;<br />
to be loved as to love.<br />
For it is in giving that we receive;<br />
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;<br />
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>What strikes me today is that in the first line, the prayer
asks the Lord to make me an instrument of HIS peace. I may not ever find my own peace and that is
what we ponder so much, trying to make sense of life and its ups and
downs. But I can, in the midst of
pondering offer to be used – to be an instrument of God’s peace – the peace
that we seldom understand, but that we have been freely given through the one
who came at Christmas.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus said in John 14:27 “Peace I leave with you: my peace I
give you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not give as the world
gives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I confess that I am not always the peacemaker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not always sow love, pardon, faith, or
hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I am dark and sometimes
I am sad and lonely even though my home is filled with abundance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I have memorized the prayer and it
is amazing the times during the day when the words come to remind me “sow hope,
sow love, understand, pardon.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peace.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I know that Christ wants to infuse peace into all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the peace of a
quiet snowfall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the peace of singing
Silent Night holding a candle. But the opening of our souls to receive Him in
our hearts – to take on his characteristics of love and forgiveness, of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gentleness and hope and of purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in this age of “it’s all about me” we
find it hard to acknowledge our utter neediness and we simply just don’t need
Jesus – or very much of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This Season of Epiphany, open yourself to receive the peace that
Jesus brings –now, from eternity past, and forevermore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in return, offer yourself as an
instrument of that kind of peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Knowing peace is the gift above all gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-34327786198449542212022-12-25T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-25T05:00:00.195-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 25 A Child's Birth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1jBTufeeSfYJJcymHBagujClTPxkk2joRuCJ7weS_RLZmoB8VaRvVr7jA5uSKMfjZLz2-82PJrdMg37lHCsOJ2M62JGFohe-msg2n-HBw9eRxCGTKDjN63OygRsJXCzQQsVuWZFLqJCx/s415/bethlehemnightmanger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="311" data-original-width="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1jBTufeeSfYJJcymHBagujClTPxkk2joRuCJ7weS_RLZmoB8VaRvVr7jA5uSKMfjZLz2-82PJrdMg37lHCsOJ2M62JGFohe-msg2n-HBw9eRxCGTKDjN63OygRsJXCzQQsVuWZFLqJCx/s320/bethlehemnightmanger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to
you; he is the Messiah, the Lord." (Luke 2:11)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The powerful silence of Christmas morning says "Peace,
I am here." </p><p class="MsoNormal">I smile and rest in that knowledge. Somehow, the world, in spite of great turmoil, rests
as well. Even as the day comes alive, people are kinder, quieter with the
knowledge that today....today, something is different. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I feel it.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Maybe because I believe
it. I believe that peace begins with me. I believe angels sing and stars dance.
I believe in Wise Men and a virgin birth. I believe Jesus is the coming of God
to earth. I believe He will come again. Today is Christmas and I welcome it and I reread the story:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"</span></sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is how
the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be
married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant
through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law,
and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to
divorce her quietly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But after he had considered this, an
angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do
not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her
is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him
the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> All this took place to fulfill
what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give
birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When Joseph woke up, he did what the
angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. <sup>25</sup>
But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he
gave him the name Jesus." (Matthew 1:18-25) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Christmas is saying 'yes' to something beyond all
emotions and feelings. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Christmas is saying "yes" to a hope based on
God's initiative, which has nothing to do with what I think or feel. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Christmas
is believing that the salvation of the world is God's work and not mine. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Things
will never look just right or feel just right. If they did, someone would be
lying...But it is into this broken world that a child is born who is called Son
of the Most High, Prince of Peace, Savior."(Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to
Daybreak)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Savior who has been born to us,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>draw us
to you this day and all days <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>until we see you face to face.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-34051565447944217982022-12-24T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-24T05:00:00.194-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 24 Journey<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvpguVh4eLQ0iyutTYZnCqoGSqVauthZxH8WtC8c-84uP8t8I9aX3j05qUJbE2UR2yBxwrfWLIZOd3LE-JnnZYfuyZr23pG7USO86V7Dv35H_GO9tPpTHHUAgg4L0sxP8RmRZnjuUFSy0/s787/manger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="599" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvpguVh4eLQ0iyutTYZnCqoGSqVauthZxH8WtC8c-84uP8t8I9aX3j05qUJbE2UR2yBxwrfWLIZOd3LE-JnnZYfuyZr23pG7USO86V7Dv35H_GO9tPpTHHUAgg4L0sxP8RmRZnjuUFSy0/s320/manger.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: x-large;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>December 24</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christmas Eve. A day to celebrate our journey of Advent.
Even before getting out of bed, the gift of the train's whistle arrived through
the quiet winter air calling me, saying, "Get ready. The journey is
complete. Just get on board. Just thank the Lord."</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It seems everything I read this morning has the theme of the
journey. Wise men traveling their slow journey across the desert. Shepherds following a star. Family members
arriving to be welcomed home. And we, too, have traveled together, writing and reading,
as our hearts have journeyed to prepare for this Coming - this Advent. And I
must ask myself as you must, "Am I different this year?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Listen to Henri Nouwen's thoughts:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"God came to us because he wanted to join us on the
road, to listen to our story, and to help us realize that we are not walking in
circles but moving towards the house of peace and joy. This is the great
mystery of Christmas that continues to give us comfort and consolation: we are
not alone on our journey. The God of love who gave us life sent us his only Son
to be with us at all times and in all places, so that we never have to feel
lost in our struggles but always can trust that he walks with us...<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Christmas is the renewed invitation not to be afraid and let
him - whose love is greater than our own hearts and minds can comprehend - be
our companion." (Gracias! A Latin
American Journal)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I love the thought of Jesus walking with us on our life
journey. I love the idea that this is our greatest gift - a gift of love offered
freely to all who will receive it. I love this annual "renewed
invitation" for opening the gift again, receiving it with greater
acceptance and deeper humility with each passing year.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As with any journey, we must gather up our traveling things
and prepare for our destination. Today, tonight, let us make room for this
wondrous event. Let us witness angels singing and stars dancing in the night
sky.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Into this silent night<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">as we make our weary way<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">we know not where,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">just when the night becomes its darkest<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and we cannot see our path,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">just then<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">is when the angels rush in,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">their hands full of stars."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(Ann Weems, Kneeling in Bethlehem)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-29944395144692697152022-12-23T05:00:00.002-05:002022-12-23T05:00:00.198-05:00Jesus Is Here To Stay<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4u5dzNGLlllZ_Tt2C23b4N8KGUU4y-ow4UWXG1Nn0uHKmYy0xRs7yqkwH4lP4MAgyZFaIji2U9rhCANWcJqbXJ5MTYPVzO98HsqChqBEUOaqGMuDgwPgRaA-tEA8CIXU4mxreOsdvv6O4HS-MeQj_gnCMBTg8PoGk4YDVfq0Adv63-EhzbxhRUrOtA/s450/Christmas%20Tree%20and%20Lights.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="450" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4u5dzNGLlllZ_Tt2C23b4N8KGUU4y-ow4UWXG1Nn0uHKmYy0xRs7yqkwH4lP4MAgyZFaIji2U9rhCANWcJqbXJ5MTYPVzO98HsqChqBEUOaqGMuDgwPgRaA-tEA8CIXU4mxreOsdvv6O4HS-MeQj_gnCMBTg8PoGk4YDVfq0Adv63-EhzbxhRUrOtA/s320/Christmas%20Tree%20and%20Lights.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">December 23rd<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 18pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matthew
28:20<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This morning, I sit by the tree that has adorned my living
room for three short weeks. I light some candles and sit in this peaceful spot
of quiet and greenery and flickering light. I want the clock to stop. I want
this season of Advent to stay. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our Advent journey of preparation is almost complete. </p><p class="MsoNormal">It is
getting quiet. There is less traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Parties are over. The air is still. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travelers are headed home for the holiday. Wrapped
presents wait to be opened. The stores are showing signs of change, preparing
for the "after Christmas" sale. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Time - almost - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to clean up and put away until next year. Time to be still and
know that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>even as the signs of the
season will one by one disappear, Jesus is here to stay. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Christmas is the first lesson of faith. Advent is the
beginning of the Christian year. Soon we will be considering Lent. We will
leave Jesus in the manger and follow him into his very brief three-year
ministry and walk with Him to the cross and resurrection. And we will again
acknowledge that as that season comes and goes, Jesus is still here to stay. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Month by month, we will move through our new year and be
reminded through spring, summer and fall that life moves and we move with it.
We will say good-bye to some we love. We will experience illnesses and trials
of varying sorts. We will make mistakes. We will celebrate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will laugh and we will cry. We will ask
"why" and retreat at times to ponder things too hard to understand.
We will have to work to remind ourselves that Jesus is still here to stay. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Oswald Chambers says, "We mistake the joy of our first
introduction into God's kingdom as His purpose for getting us there. Yet God's
purpose in getting us into His kingdom is that we may realize all that
identification with Jesus Christ means." (My Utmost for His Highest,
December 23)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so when the twinkling stars are shielded by clouds and
singing angels cannot be heard, we will know they are there - somewhere.
Because we trust in the One who came that night in Bethlehem. We study and search
and continue to learn to trust this amazing truth - Jesus is here to stay.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Emmanuel, you are with us and you are here to stay. Can I
say that of any other earthly thing? But, of course, you are not earthly - you
are God . <o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-40586952907749503422022-12-22T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-22T05:00:00.204-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 22 The Innkeeper<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAs2Uxa2shMfq-c6jl0RnA3pUkaT6GK9u1ayx9fUQ5vUDAvy-RsDrPeo_kfYgN-e9_hD-90ngKsrTs6-uUETM6g9QX6g5G_pMNQsx2m0qSJIRnlu7WLJat2HEGu6IgRm4sw2zualeBhNR/s1467/No-Vacancy-graphic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="1467" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAs2Uxa2shMfq-c6jl0RnA3pUkaT6GK9u1ayx9fUQ5vUDAvy-RsDrPeo_kfYgN-e9_hD-90ngKsrTs6-uUETM6g9QX6g5G_pMNQsx2m0qSJIRnlu7WLJat2HEGu6IgRm4sw2zualeBhNR/s320/No-Vacancy-graphic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Small Signs of God - The Innkeeper #22<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone
hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and
they with me." (Revelation 3:20)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were traveling in Maine and it was late and we were tired
and hungry. When the innkeeper opened the door, I knew it was where I wanted my
family to spend the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was clean
and inviting and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>good smells were coming
from the kitchen. </p><p class="MsoNormal">But the innkeeper said, "I'm sorry, we are full tonight."</p><p class="MsoNormal"> She must have seen the disappointment in my face. As we turned away, she
called, "Wait, I do have one room that might work. Your children are small
and it is late."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We accepted
quickly, thinking we could all sleep on the floor if we could just have a
little space for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said to
go get dinner and when we returned the room would be ready.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pleased at our good fortune, we returned to find a
"room for two that sleeps five." The door opened and we walked into a
sight for tired eyes. It was basic with one bed. But on the floor were three
small "beds" that had been created out of cushions, pillows and
quilts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sheets were folded back, holding
small stuffed animals waiting for three sleepy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>new friends. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The innkeeper in the Nativity often gets looked down upon,
but there was something in his heart that made him stop and reconsider. Maybe he saw the
tired weary couple and was moved to help. Those were common people and that was
the way babies were born in Bethlehem. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Surely there was a spot for Jesus. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Basic
warmth and safety could set the stage for surprise visits of angels singing and
stars dancing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This Advent, I wonder what kind of innkeeper I am. Can I
find room for others? Or will I turn them away? Can I be creative in
"making do" when I don't have enough beds, enough time, enough money,
enough energy or patience? Can I go beyond the basics of warmth and shelter to
offer pure hospitality and love with a few dancing stars as a perk?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus is looking for hearts that will open the door to make
room for him this Christmas.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> Like Joseph, He must be so weary of knocking on
hard-to-open doors, </p><p class="MsoNormal">just hoping this year, there might be a small place for him
to rest his head.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> Would it be in your heart? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Do you hear Him knocking? </p><p class="MsoNormal">What
will you say?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Everlasting Father,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, there is room this
Advent. Enter my heart and I, too, will hear angels sing. <o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-68502027233524418862022-12-21T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-21T05:00:00.205-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 21 Valleys and Mountains<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><a name="3378889485990324827"></a>Valleys and Mountains</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0h0ZNdss-8B6k6OblN_ELMGsyFIFtLwDnjirVknwCG0PxJwf7mSOig1tB3zPAW3nWbnRVPDIfBeXK6EnOZHhZNfyR9_a83CwB8bN1dAr7Gg9FNCTJuaoZ5B0K4SGF8RB9MnKdDgp85aJ/s1080/morning+sunrise.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0h0ZNdss-8B6k6OblN_ELMGsyFIFtLwDnjirVknwCG0PxJwf7mSOig1tB3zPAW3nWbnRVPDIfBeXK6EnOZHhZNfyR9_a83CwB8bN1dAr7Gg9FNCTJuaoZ5B0K4SGF8RB9MnKdDgp85aJ/s320/morning+sunrise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span><sup style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;">4</sup><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> As it is written in the book of the words
of Isaiah the prophet:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> “A voice of one calling in the wilderness, <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Prepare the way for the Lord, <br />
make straight paths for him. <br />
<sup>5</sup> Every valley shall be filled in, <br />
every mountain and hill made low. <br />
The crooked roads shall become straight, <br />
the rough ways smooth. <br />
<sup>6</sup> And all people will see God’s salvation. (</span><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Luke 3:4-6.)</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The meltdown came.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I thought I had done everything so
perfect this Advent. I had slowed down and made time for true worship. I had
kept my home modestly adorned and in order. I had given to the poor and served
the needy. I had baked the family favorites, seen the people I love and filled
the birdfeeders with a Christmas blend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet, hot tears came streaming down my face at the kitchen sink -
somewhere between blending the pate and mixing the fruitcake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't identify their source. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Was it
brokenness or was it sheer Christmas joy?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My husband suggested I think in terms of an
investment article he had read earlier about<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aristotle (my husband reads Aristotle?) and his
ancient theory of The Golden Mean. The Golden Mean is defined as " the
desirable middle between two extremes, one of deficiency and the other of
excess."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">My Advent focus took me from Aristotle directly to Jesus who came
right in the middle of the history of time. The world had been deficient,
struggling, looking for the One who would set the world straight. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And that
night, 2000 years ago, God's "Golden Mean" arrived. And since He came,
that same world paused and wondered for a night, and since has gone on looking,
unsatisfied and excessive.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I ask you - how deep are your valleys this Christmas? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My
valleys are deep. But my mountains are just as high. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My life spills over with
the fullness of life - </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">gathering and giving, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">embracing and letting go.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> It
is what Solomon talks about in Ecclesiastes. A time for everything. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then,
one day...one day it will all be straightened and made smooth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Great God who sets my world straight, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I rest in your promises . Help me to prepare the way....</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-41703679901921015072022-12-20T05:00:00.001-05:002022-12-20T05:00:00.208-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 20 Angels<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Small Signs of God -Day 20<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg226e9QAJqV3eqxeVlrlkxAUO571PGpHImvB_WFylFrUA0GefGOOjwGhfy9h3O3Zlh4RoGZZ4YB0_ifePqbzEN74HAwSFUfsLbXTeho9Ga0mSMO2dYBNFuPw9l0MzEZHZFFWxJyIo1OJKv/s615/angel-on-tree-600px-412px.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="615" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg226e9QAJqV3eqxeVlrlkxAUO571PGpHImvB_WFylFrUA0GefGOOjwGhfy9h3O3Zlh4RoGZZ4YB0_ifePqbzEN74HAwSFUfsLbXTeho9Ga0mSMO2dYBNFuPw9l0MzEZHZFFWxJyIo1OJKv/s320/angel-on-tree-600px-412px.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> <span style="font-family: Dancing Script;">Angels</span></span><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pondering the scriptures during this fourth week of Advent,
there is much thought given to angels and dreams. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Joseph in his dream was
instructed to take Mary as his wife. He was told to not be afraid. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Mary was
visited by the angel and told to not be afraid.</p><p class="MsoNormal">The shepherds were advised by
an angel to not be afraid. </p><p class="MsoNormal">We see a pattern of angels showing up at times where
there was what the Bible teacher Henry Blackaby calls a “crisis of belief” or a
turning point in someone’s life. It’s a time when one must make a choice as to
how they will move forward. </p><p class="MsoNormal">In these Advent cases, it was an invitation to trust in the
announcement of the Messiah.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It’s not every day we are greeting by an angel, but looking
back to Advent<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2007, I now believe I
had one of those angel visits in a dream. And I wrote:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">'I
am waking in the night, not from worry, but from dreams and songs I learned as
a child. One night I woke to these words, “Jesus doeth all things well.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t sure about the song, but I knew the
tune and the next morning I went to the hymnal and found these words:<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All the way my Savior leads me; What have I
to ask beside?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through
life has been my Guide?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, Here by
faith in Him to dwell!<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For I know, what ever befalls me, Jesus doeth
all things well.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
conversation in my dream went something like me saying, “I cannot watch my daughter die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not want to do this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And some other voice said, “You have to do
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not let temptation or self-pity get in
your way and do not be afraid.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There
it was. “Do not be afraid.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>"Befall" means
to come up against tragedy or a crucial point in your life. A turning point, if
you will. But the song in the dream said my savior leads me and does all things
well. I suppose it is what Joseph and Mary relied on. </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It would be enough for me.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">2
Corinthians 5:7 says, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we can see clearly, it is not faith, but
reasoning of our mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have learned to
rely less on reasoning and to trust my conversations in the wee hours, relying
on my <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>faith to see me through.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jesus
does “doeth” all things well – he comes to us again this Christmas as Immanuel
– God with us - in the middle of the night, during the day through our family
and friends, and before our eyes each and every minute."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpj3K1mmftO6HLp6QPMx9LRUKQ5HbToMp5W5qiELBia9nH2qFa3nCrgsugzYbXsvDtzjBWLwR-Rv7u08HR3ibQReq9kS-2RsmiNomSoyidM-m12CaYFpjo0UNhjn2Lil_s_-kAdKOYmMz/s488/3+Angel+with+the+Whips-d021fdc23d.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpj3K1mmftO6HLp6QPMx9LRUKQ5HbToMp5W5qiELBia9nH2qFa3nCrgsugzYbXsvDtzjBWLwR-Rv7u08HR3ibQReq9kS-2RsmiNomSoyidM-m12CaYFpjo0UNhjn2Lil_s_-kAdKOYmMz/s320/3+Angel+with+the+Whips-d021fdc23d.jpg" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Two years later in Rome I would take a picture of each angel
on the Bridge of Angels (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ponte_Sant%27Angelo">Ponte Sant'Angelo</a>)
that spans the Tiber River. Just a few steps away from St. Peter's Basilica,
the bridge reflects the psychological shift from secular to sacred that occurs
when pilgrims crossed from the busy streets of Rome over to the the
Vatican. The Angel with the Cross's inscription reads: "Cuius principatus
super humerum eius," or, "Dominion rests on his shoulders."
(Isaiah 9:6) However, just a few verses before this, the prophet announced that "a
child is born to us, a son is given us."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;">Wonderful Counselor, who carries the cross for me this Advent, guide me on the
bridge from secular to sacred.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-85959345374055462052022-12-19T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-19T06:00:00.193-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 19 Letters<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ayK_IVE9jdvF9agryHuYc5FHxDcAgFmVKU0hK2VB89RNXvuUpkKlYUtvZPT9TLE8wGUXJ9RPuZluzmvumjvzHkHDUTT1SN6pIcesl-sUHD3NGuikfORjtsXyR8CedVxhfP8h2ltGgVGE/s275/Letter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ayK_IVE9jdvF9agryHuYc5FHxDcAgFmVKU0hK2VB89RNXvuUpkKlYUtvZPT9TLE8wGUXJ9RPuZluzmvumjvzHkHDUTT1SN6pIcesl-sUHD3NGuikfORjtsXyR8CedVxhfP8h2ltGgVGE/w400-h266/Letter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Letters</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span>Someone said I became a writer the year I wrote my Christmas
letter and described the blue lights high on a snowy hill on our farm in
Kentucky. That was a hard year. My mother had died and I was missing her
Christmas traditions that I try to keep going in my own home. I was sad and
nostalgic, letting my heart travel to new places of grief, unfamiliar places of great loss. A new
depth entered my realm of thinking. I learned I could embrace the pain and in embracing
it, something transformational happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I decided to share my sadness and loneliness with others through
writing, it became a fragrance for others to receive. Little did I know I was
being prepared for other events that would challenge my heart to depths of loss I never thought possible.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Gifts
come in mysterious ways, that is for sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And I ask you this Christmas:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>Have your life
events moved you in a direction of transformation? </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh, I love hearing about
your travels, grandchildren and accomplishments, but I wonder
more about your deeper thoughts and how you love your family and friends. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">Today, just a few days before Christmas, why not write your own Christmas letter?Often, we can put words on paper that come from some deeper place. Sometimes it is written to personally identify thoughts and feelings. Trust me, I have written many words that are read by only one person. Me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">Tell me how the Pandemic years changed you, changed your family.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tell me how you felt when you lost your job or learned to work differently.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Tell me
your response when you were told there were no more treatment options.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Tell
me how you long for your son or daughter to return. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You see, what happens to most of us is this: when the hard days come - and we have all had hard days - we want to shut down,
retreat, worry and refuse to share our hurts. Pride closes the door to
transformation while others who are hurting wait for your story. There is always someone who
needs to smell the fragrance of human life by simply</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> sharing a memory, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>remembering a special time, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> t</span>alking over a concern or maybe the hardest of all, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>just sitting with someone and being silent
together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Go ahead, write your thoughts.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">May these days of our coming Jesus explode in wonder and
grace as you ponder his gift.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> May you find hope and transformation when you think there is none,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span> </span>peace when you feel unsettled,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span>and love always abounding. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jesus, Savior of the world,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Teach us to share the excitement of Christ in our lives, sharing your message of hope and healing. Let us rejoice with laughter like
children anticipating Christmas morning. Amen</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-61353317061399682392022-12-18T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-18T06:00:00.186-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 18 Seven Days<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqgel-juTMW3hGdARlLgiAix2LMp1-lPu_T2Z3wSXLHslxMN0fiyP0J3HsX1xhQwGW0zO-IlWeGzjsENyeWoqrcd9Au3YYQJGmkGV-mYiSVyO8G0nHDU7OatPdz6C8oayuN2k12nSOlId/s299/Creation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqgel-juTMW3hGdARlLgiAix2LMp1-lPu_T2Z3wSXLHslxMN0fiyP0J3HsX1xhQwGW0zO-IlWeGzjsENyeWoqrcd9Au3YYQJGmkGV-mYiSVyO8G0nHDU7OatPdz6C8oayuN2k12nSOlId/w320-h180/Creation.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: x-large;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Seven Days</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Seven days until Christmas. The days are full of good things
and well wishes as we make our final Advent steps to Christmas Day. Like you, I
have my final list of things to do. It will be enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>It's not so big when I think about what God
did in seven days:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Monday - Light<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tuesday - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sky and
water <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Wednesday - Land, seas, vegetation<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thursday - Sun, moon and star<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Friday - Fish and Birds<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Saturday - Animals; man and woman<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sunday - God rested and declared all that he had made to be
very good. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Not only the gift of creation, but throughout time God has
given gifts to us and His world. Anne Weems in her poem ,"Gifts from God" reminds
me of these additional gifts: a garden, knowledge, things, rainbows, manna,
prophets, children and then the ultimate gift of love in the form of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Talk about a lavish gift giver! My little wrapped gifts
can't begin to compare - unless they are wrapped in the same love that has been
shown to me from Heaven above and given unconditionally. When this, my final
Advent week is over, I too, want to declare that all I had done this week was
very good.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"There are some
that don' t open their eyes<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or their ears or their hearts<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and they still say,
that's not quite enough.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They wander through
the stores looking for Christmas.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But others open their
whole being to the Lord, bending their knees to praise God.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">carrying Christmas
with them every day.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For these the whole
world is a gift!"</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">(<u>Kneeling in Bethlehem</u>, pg.70)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Great Giver of Gifts,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I want to be among the ones who bend their knees to you. I
want to carry Christmas with me every day.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-4950432508316412032022-12-17T05:30:00.001-05:002022-12-17T05:30:00.202-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 17 A Slower Time<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBvzY-W5rOVxPcKBxE6A4yb9wXq5aEjcbfUhOc0AajKtremfxQY-8K-nXO125heq9d06lJG6eutIh_sjfKF0u-XGbBWGlOKpKRUOpqYMoihLLA4C7Q33L-Su3yEAFdV2MPx57_EsGyz5R8/s220/Christmas+Clock.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="220" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBvzY-W5rOVxPcKBxE6A4yb9wXq5aEjcbfUhOc0AajKtremfxQY-8K-nXO125heq9d06lJG6eutIh_sjfKF0u-XGbBWGlOKpKRUOpqYMoihLLA4C7Q33L-Su3yEAFdV2MPx57_EsGyz5R8/w320-h263/Christmas+Clock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Dancing Script"; font-size: xx-large;">Stop!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: x-large;">Not so fast, Christmas! </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The quiet of the morning calls me to read one more devotional and savor a little more coffee. We find ourselves finishing up our Christmas traditions in preparation for Christmas Eve and Day. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I find myself looking into my new January calendar, entering dates for
The New Year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But wait — I want Christmas to linger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>This peaceful watching and waiting and
writing (and re-writing) have done what Advent is supposed to do. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Slow me down.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> And when I go on “Advent time” it suddenly fills me with quiet joy and wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want this time to stand still and
just behold this wonder…this experience of quiet waiting. And I must ask myself if I can enter
this home stretch to Christmas Day quietly and just be in Advent - one
with God.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One with Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Maybe it is why we love the sheep so much in the Nativity.
They don't have a speaking or acting role. They just come, watch and wait for
their shepherd to guide them, feed them and care for them. When I was young I got
to hold a baby lamb in my arms and feed it from a bottle. The mother had
rejected the lamb and it would have died had my father not known what to do. My
sister and I got to care for that helpless lamb and it grew and became a pet
that we nurtured and cared for and loved with all our hearts. Hearts that broke
when "Lamby" grew up and left us. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Could it be that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, thinks of us as
his pet? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Has He nurtured us this Advent as we have waited and watched for his
coming? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Dependent? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Helpless? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Needy? </p><p class="MsoNormal">Has he cared for and loved us with his
heart so much that he has entered into our own hearts and we are one?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we can answer
"yes" then we have the greatest gift of Christmas.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a child I learned a simple song:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Into My Heart,
Into My Heart, Come into my heart Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Come in today,
Come in to stay, Come into my heart, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpAa8eelD0FjOTBycPvUljFtRwygQn4wJE1WyJL7WypQ-rwwazM_yT-NCptXs7MAkvxeOg3tcAP_mWeReYQ5Njjyziq60FnLTaKUYO_-LUsstLXmkDgdwhHg-DX_KOUoll15eqM6bM3Ld/s259/23rd+Psalm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpAa8eelD0FjOTBycPvUljFtRwygQn4wJE1WyJL7WypQ-rwwazM_yT-NCptXs7MAkvxeOg3tcAP_mWeReYQ5Njjyziq60FnLTaKUYO_-LUsstLXmkDgdwhHg-DX_KOUoll15eqM6bM3Ld/s0/23rd+Psalm.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Faithful Shepherd,<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">You watch over me
and you stay by my side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">I have everything
I need. Slow me down and linger in my heart.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-88540339164149804392022-12-16T05:30:00.001-05:002022-12-16T05:30:00.205-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 16 A Twinkling Star<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkhAiWPqpmxa1E0d8DXWza6MyK2JhZMSz0EmeP9whxb8ft9lYvtekh4qm_T89R6F9rF9CKAPDouMneWpKn3pb9dxBXQB0NfqU1oNz-l-z_5liPNjgv6EydqPood3jkBfBchqY3K6w6IcI/s1199/Star.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkhAiWPqpmxa1E0d8DXWza6MyK2JhZMSz0EmeP9whxb8ft9lYvtekh4qm_T89R6F9rF9CKAPDouMneWpKn3pb9dxBXQB0NfqU1oNz-l-z_5liPNjgv6EydqPood3jkBfBchqY3K6w6IcI/s320/Star.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"> Twinkling Star<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">"We have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him." (Matthew 2:2)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Something draws me to gaze at the night sky. One night there was an opening in the clouds with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one very bright star twinkling down. In my quick and limited research, I concluded that it could be Vega, the brightest star in the Lyra constellation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lyra, according to Greek mythology, is associated with the myth of Orpheus, the musician whose music was so sweet that Zeus<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>placed Orpheus and his harp in the night sky. Lyra has been known as Kind David's harp. But did you know it is also known as the Manger of the Infant Savior? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Looking into the night sky is a discipline I learned during a time when nothing made sense in my life. I would go outside during the night and feel the darkness suffocating me. As I struggled for breath, I would turn from the darkness and look up. Tears would fill my eyes. Strength would flood my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Courage would<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pump into my depleted heart. As I looked up, grace came down and filled me until the next night when I would return, depleted and needy, to be refilled.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">To look up and "see" the Christmas star or the Manger of the Infant Savior shining down - oh, not shining, but dancing and twinkling, strong and pure, fixed and secure in all of time and space - well, tears are most fitting. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude. Tears of awe and wonder.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I love the way one pastor talks about star-gazing:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The Star leads to God.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Only those who look, see.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Only those who follow, find.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Not every one follows.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>Those who follow, always find.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Jesus, You who are the Bright Morning Star,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>when I look I see you,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when I follow, I find you and I worship you.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p><br /></p><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-63586037261987724062022-12-15T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-15T06:00:00.193-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 15<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Small Signs of God - Gifts</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqvLaQeplEmq2YMx3-FYflamQjob43DyoFH826G0M4kOAL58EqGYrJGhKz7Vrixhg1taRplPu7ZBv-h7lg6s_sgFR4gCbzdMALf4J6DUgrC-iIpAbK83kBtST7CZP41IEZVjyNjqZSbut/s255/gifts.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqvLaQeplEmq2YMx3-FYflamQjob43DyoFH826G0M4kOAL58EqGYrJGhKz7Vrixhg1taRplPu7ZBv-h7lg6s_sgFR4gCbzdMALf4J6DUgrC-iIpAbK83kBtST7CZP41IEZVjyNjqZSbut/s0/gifts.jpg" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">James 1:17 says "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming
down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting
shadows."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>A few years ago we were doing some Christmas shopping and got stuck in a
traffic jam. Waiting to move forward, my husband looked to me and said,
"And what about you? What would you like for a Christmas gift this
year?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>I extended my hand to his nose to see what he thought about
the new perfume I had sampled in the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He liked it. Then I suggested maybe a bird feeder or some gardening clippers.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nodded. Or a new sauce pan. He perked
up. I couldn't get very enthusiastic about wanting anything that year and then the
traffic moved and thankfully, we, too, moved on in our exchange of ideas.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Silently, I pondered the question: what do I want?
Oh, I can always give out a list of material things. I can find pleasure in the
material world. But it never satisfies me. My daughter witnessed this short
satisfaction experience in the store where she used to work. People frantic
to get just the right one -you know, the latest version that just came out in the catalog. But a
new style or version arrives every two weeks. And we just keep on buying. We keep on fixing ourselves temporarily with the temporary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's like the perfume that smells so good and then fades away.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The real list lies somewhere down in my heart and it wants to cry
out, </p><p class="MsoNormal">"I want the pandemic to be really over. I want politicians to fall in love with Jesus and get things in order. I want racial strife to stop and hatred go away. I want to not be afraid. I want a broken life to mend. I want a family together. I want my heart to
feel strong. I want no more cancer for Emsley and Shirley and Jack and Diane and Ed and
Mary Claire. I want a miracle for little Josie and 2-year-old Maggie. And I
want peace.... and I want it to begin with me."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But wait. It is just two weeks until Christmas and I
have already received the best gift I could ever hope for. </p><p class="MsoNormal">It's Jesus. </p><p class="MsoNormal">He is the
one who can take my heart's list and check off each one to perfection. My job
is to keep receiving His wondrous gift of love and mercy and grace. The gift of Jesus who came 2000 years ago is a sweet perfume that never
fades or changes. His gift is perfection and wonder, calm and bright.<o:p></o:p></p>
<blockquote dir="rtl" style="border: none; margin: 0px 40px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: right;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span> </span>Once again, Dear Lord, as we move through this season of the Christian year called Advent, we turn to you, the One who came and is among us, walking beside us, cheering us on, picking up the pieces, calming hearts -today, I open my heart to make a way for your Light to shine in my home, neighborhood, and my world </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The world you created and came to save. Amen .</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-38658030227309059622022-12-14T05:30:00.001-05:002022-12-14T05:30:00.204-05:00Small Signs of Advent - Lost Sheep<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg8JHwrRqy9LS04y1q-0o42TdlW3FfLT41LoG-zQ3xTiyjwP_Tr4BYjK4hYKKwvcVJuHsrRLbFv0bUo4WLYcxdy_UoB4Vc_g8-8MROOV4Q2Qd-EyigpidgTT1Z0FIYzhWngW9chtjLBrR_/s562/sheep.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg8JHwrRqy9LS04y1q-0o42TdlW3FfLT41LoG-zQ3xTiyjwP_Tr4BYjK4hYKKwvcVJuHsrRLbFv0bUo4WLYcxdy_UoB4Vc_g8-8MROOV4Q2Qd-EyigpidgTT1Z0FIYzhWngW9chtjLBrR_/s320/sheep.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Day 14 Lost Sheep<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It happens every Advent.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> I begin peaceful and calm, resting
in the start of the season of joy and peace. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I pace myself. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Then I look at the
calendar and realize the time is passing and I still have much to do. A few
presents to purchase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cookies to bake.
Letters to write. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I begin to lose my joy and wander off.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Even in
worship,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have things to do.
Things to think about more deeply. Things to ponder over and over in my heart.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I turn to <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2053&version=MSG" target="_blank">Isaiah 53</a>. It is about the serious role Jesus
would play in our lives. There is nothing about silent nights or peace or
beauty or calm; instead Isaiah points to the future about an unattractive man
who people will despise. Isaiah writes about people who will hate so much they
will kill the man and sell his clothes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even friends will desert him. Isaiah brings it
closer to home and points to the reader and says that all of us, like stupid
sheep, wander off and this man - this Jesus - will be the one who will take our wanderings
and stupidity, forgive us and perfect us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hard things to think about at Christmas time. </p><p class="MsoNormal">We'd rather bake fruitcake and wrap presents than consider the cost of Christmas in God's
economy.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> And yet He came. </p><p class="MsoNormal">He took thirty years from His reign in Heaven and
humbled himself to be Jesus, the one who would love perfectly. The one who
would offer his life so you and I might live forever. He comes today as the
good shepherd looking for his lost sheep.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I remember the music of Handel's Messiah proclaiming the very
words:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"And He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; and He
shall gather the lambs with His arms, and carry them in His bosom and gently
lead those that are with young." (Isaiah 40:11)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Great Shepherd,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You have experienced more than I can comprehend,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and here you are this Christmas - feeding me, gathering me,
carrying me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lead on,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gentle
Shepherd.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-68159382465709215552022-12-13T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-13T06:00:00.205-05:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzzTJYlH3V4qGjeZMqyDSZaBHzBFz0rsHxxBQAMK2qmn5E9qNVD1usjX1293x0HfoLmGJgrgfpBC4iI-xC0oe-xzymHMJMiAsRKa7QjtWNDli-8wrsEdDGVg8NPvmk4IPEjedyejJt7kX/s500/rose.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzzTJYlH3V4qGjeZMqyDSZaBHzBFz0rsHxxBQAMK2qmn5E9qNVD1usjX1293x0HfoLmGJgrgfpBC4iI-xC0oe-xzymHMJMiAsRKa7QjtWNDli-8wrsEdDGVg8NPvmk4IPEjedyejJt7kX/s320/rose.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Small Signs of God
#13 The Rose<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It's a mystery to
me how a rose bush can die back in the winter and look like it will never ever
live again. Then, quietly, a little shoot springs from the dead wood. Then a
stalk forms and sends out a perfectly shaped bloom. It is a gift and a mystery
and a small sign of Advent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I could never
explain the words to this haunting carol, but the powerful poetic image of a
flower, particularly a beautiful rose, sprouting in the winter captures my imagination.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And who is Jesse? Jesse was the much
less famous father of King David. Isaiah said that a tender shoot would rise up.
But it would take 600 years of the royal authority lying dormant, then out of
the dead stump comes new life, the tender stem in the form of Jesus, the rose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lo, how a rose e'er blooming,<br />
From tender stem hath sprung.<br />
Of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesse" title="Jesse"><span color="windowtext" style="font-size: 14pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Jesse</span></a><span style="font-size: 14pt;">'s lineage coming,<br />
As men of old have sung;<br />
It came, a flow'ret bright,<br />
Amid the cold of winter,<br />
When half spent was the night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Rose which I am singing,<br />
Whereof Isaiah said,<br />
Is from its sweet root springing<br />
In Mary, purest Maid;<br />
Through God's great love and might<br />
The Blessed Babe she bare us<br />
In a cold, cold winter's night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The floweret, so small<br />
That smells so sweet to us<br />
With its clear light<br />
Dispels the darkness.<br />
True man and true God!<br />
He helps us from all trouble,<br />
Saves us from sin and death.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Read that third verse again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus, the clear light dispels the darkness.
Remember, things had been dark for 600 years. And then a true man and true God helps us from all trouble and saves us from sin and death.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Bright Christmas Rose, bloom in my heart with
sweet fragrance for all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-5615196852528263722022-12-12T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-12T06:00:00.209-05:00Small Signs of God - The Train's Whistle<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Small Signs of God #12 </p><p class="MsoNormal">The Train's Whistle<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJW1QeSKChHgvXhRrRX8qaxmlqFPqRxf5MAijrTM0T7KNorbonM9vWLwMNoW6x7BbjvBjQimeu2LZcA3DNTjsrMJa-lRwG3gBJ8vC6chaKcM3W3xFBWoEFsvIlbZRCFgD6hRgzTynwR4W/s1024/train.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJW1QeSKChHgvXhRrRX8qaxmlqFPqRxf5MAijrTM0T7KNorbonM9vWLwMNoW6x7BbjvBjQimeu2LZcA3DNTjsrMJa-lRwG3gBJ8vC6chaKcM3W3xFBWoEFsvIlbZRCFgD6hRgzTynwR4W/s320/train.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">I've been listening for it - the early morning whistle of
the train in the distance. If the wind is just right and I am very still to
listen, I can hear the faint " woo-woo" above the rumbling on the
tracks. Faint, nostalgic, mysterious, but on schedule and moving through to its
destination. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In 1963, Curtis Mayfield wrote the song "People Get
Ready" after the March on Washington. Forty years later in an interview he said the song
was a subconscious product of "the preachings of my grandmothers and most
ministers when they reflect from the Bible." http://www.npr.org/news/specials/march40th/people.html<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Those reflections are still happening. And they are still
coming from the Bible. Those reflections transcend all barriers and welcome a
world to "get on board." The whistle of a train announces its arrival
like John in scripture, who announced the arrival of Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you hear the Advent whistle calling? Do
you hear the sounds of Christmas coming? Or maybe you prefer the rumblings on
the tracks of this world? All you need is faith and you will hear.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"People get ready, there's a train a comin' <br />
You don't need no baggage, you just get on board <br />
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin' <br />
Don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord<br />
<br />
People get ready for the train to Jordan <br />
It's picking up passengers from coast to coast <br />
Faith is the key, open the doors and board 'em <br />
There's hope for all among those loved the most.<br />
<br />
There ain't no room for the hopeless sinner<br />
Who would hurt all mankind just to save his own <br />
Have pity on those whose chances grow thinner<br />
For there's no hiding place against the Kingdom's throne<br />
<br />
So people get ready, there's a train a comin' <br />
You don't need no baggage, you just get on board <br />
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin' <br />
Don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord"<br />
<br />
Great Conductor of the Universe, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as you come on
your schedule, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wait and I listen to give you my ticket of thanks.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-37095531875525992212022-12-11T06:00:00.003-05:002022-12-11T06:00:00.203-05:00Small Signs of God - Day 11<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGjvPUcjgyRJLkM8V0CVu9lMui45hiLwagEwuUOJbKjd9DFJGzBOL2h4JY7f6xEfics-AOUOfAoTXbwM9M3Iw0_mFtyv3M9HAoeWHl-e_MjxQPjKwxfrd3jQJmWKbr_DZZN47FsUHHf_h/s640/cardinal+2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="428" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGjvPUcjgyRJLkM8V0CVu9lMui45hiLwagEwuUOJbKjd9DFJGzBOL2h4JY7f6xEfics-AOUOfAoTXbwM9M3Iw0_mFtyv3M9HAoeWHl-e_MjxQPjKwxfrd3jQJmWKbr_DZZN47FsUHHf_h/s320/cardinal+2.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Day 11 </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">- The Visitor</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I regretted being away from home when the call came.
My daughter called laughing, "There's a bird in our house. What do I
do?" After instructions were given for shooing the feathered friend back
to his habitat, I called back a few minutes later to check the status and
inquired, "What kind of bird was it?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She said, "It was a cardinal, Mom." Stunned, I hung up the
phone. Stunned and pleased that this shy, quiet red bird came close enough to
my door to enter, sit on the arm of my sofa, circle the room and exit
gracefully.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For sixteen months I observed the movement of
cardinals. I watched the rhythm of life outside my window move through the
seasons while inside life stood still. Always, there would be a cardinal to
cheer me, to offer solace and hope. Each time they would visit a tree branch or
the feeder, some message would come forth and I would write my thoughts:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">November
2007<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">There
is a canvas outside our living room window that Fall has painted. The river
birch leaves are the color of mustard and closer to the window a holly loaded
with red berries. As Megan and I view our “painting” it comes to life with a
bright red cardinal, working among the berries in the holly tree. I wish I knew
more about birds, but I do know that the cardinal spends the winters here in
Atlanta. Yesterday, there must have been 1000 birds overhead, fleeing for the
winter. Other birds, like robins, sort of stay around, but hide themselves. I
always felt bad for the robin, remembering the child’s verse, “The North Wind
will blow, and we shall have snow, and what will the Robin do then – poor
thing? He’ll sit in the barn, to keep himself warm, and hide his head under his
wing – poor thing!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Could the
winter habits of birds be teaching me something about suffering?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Warren Wiersbe says that in suffering we tend
to fall into three categories of coping. We can escape – flee when the cold
winds come. We can endure – hide ourselves under our wings – poor things! Or we
can enlist – find an evergreen loaded with nourishment to shelter us from the
storm. We, unlike birds, have a choice.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will choose
the cardinal this winter. Escaping is out of the question, enduring is
drudgery, but enlisting is taking the winter on, finding the bright, red
berries in the cold, singing when the wind blows cold, and trusting that Spring
will certainly come. I am not surprised at wonderful and amazing God – He not
only gives the wintering cardinal the instinct to nest in the protected denseness
of the holly, but also provides food right outside the door of his nest and
places it all for us to view. How much more does he provide for us? As the song
says, “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For a cardinal to actually come into my house was, for
me, a visit out of the ordinary. Maybe you have had such a visit. Others had
those visits. Isaiah was visited by God's counsel 700 years before the birth of
Jesus. He must have been so profoundly moved by his vision he wrote in Isaiah
9:6, "For a child has been born <u>for</u> <u>us</u>." Mary, Joseph,
the shepherds, and wise men all had visits out of the ordinary. But the
smallest visit to earth was Jesus himself - a tiny, out-of-the-ordinary child
who came <u>for us</u>. And He still calls us today, saying, "Listen! I am
standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will
come in to you and eat with you, and you with me." Revelation 3:20<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I open my door today with hope - even in the cold -
and invite Him in. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-29282681359191674532022-12-10T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-10T06:00:00.204-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "Faces In The Cold"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1PS8t55aKRAj3-MQSMe6VArmhtyGwbTR7tyE4Wjxk27WwEIHa8_0Z2jEmROHFqwg8QOaUhFHSwXbmVK4kSTyuYIdR2YRWnVRpmhOsIC9kIHFcMSfRTCoqT_HLmEUs8aQfZz_S4zaQbhW/s1000/homelessness.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1PS8t55aKRAj3-MQSMe6VArmhtyGwbTR7tyE4Wjxk27WwEIHa8_0Z2jEmROHFqwg8QOaUhFHSwXbmVK4kSTyuYIdR2YRWnVRpmhOsIC9kIHFcMSfRTCoqT_HLmEUs8aQfZz_S4zaQbhW/s320/homelessness.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Day 8 - Faces in the Cold<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I missed my exit, flying past my destination, deep in
thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving on for another mile, I
exited to return and there he was - a desperate man standing at the
intersection with his sign for help. I tried not to make eye contact and hoped
the light would change before he came to my window. The man in front of me was
looking straight ahead, but I could not ignore him. I looked at him. He lifted
his eyes in hope. I took three dollars out of my wallet and lowered the window.
He moved to the car and I extended my hand. His face was downcast. He looked
sad and humiliated, but quietly said, "Thank you so much" and moved
away from the car. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It reminded me of entering Notre Dame several years ago. The
poor woman was sitting at the door with outstretched hands. She caught my eye,
but the line pushed me forward. Once inside, everywhere I looked I saw her
face, her hands reaching out to me for help. I was so convicted I worked my way
back to the entrance, found her and offered her my coins. She said something and although I speak no French I .understood her eyes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why do these scenes make me so sad? Why do I often ignore
the needy who stand on the corner? I much prefer to participate in a cleaned up
service project where the needy are rounded up and brought to me and I can
"minister" to them on my turf, leaving when I feel good enough about
myself and my effort. The single soul demands more of us. We have to look them
in the eye and say something to them. We have to face the harsh reality of
poverty - together.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The faces in the cold haunt me this Advent and I wonder if
three dollars helps. Or if ten people give three dollars, maybe that buys food
for a family - if there is one. I wonder where those faces sleep at night and
if they stand and wait with outstretched hands and signs every day - desperate,
trying to make it just one more day. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus, the infant who comes this Advent, has some thoughts
on this:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For I was hungry and you gave me something to
eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you
invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked
after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." Then the
righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you,
or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and
invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or
in prison and go to visit you?" The King will reply, "Truly
I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters
of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:35-40<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This
Advent, Jesus, help me see the faces through the eyes of a child. Make me eager to respond in love.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-62368752082627878572022-12-09T06:00:00.005-05:002022-12-09T07:34:10.275-05:00December Sky<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO57-omaMKbxB_gX0hPqg9C2OK-yZG0KhSJD1ZmptV0hvaJuTfOoSFwaa00PwB3Dx_ShnnV_19Bp1Id3miMH7M_HJfeKkPPY9o7dazOXLN2mmOSBqHhl9E7VTYEvwE6iTjk-vflybGRSet/s640/December+Sky.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO57-omaMKbxB_gX0hPqg9C2OK-yZG0KhSJD1ZmptV0hvaJuTfOoSFwaa00PwB3Dx_ShnnV_19Bp1Id3miMH7M_HJfeKkPPY9o7dazOXLN2mmOSBqHhl9E7VTYEvwE6iTjk-vflybGRSet/s320/December+Sky.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Small Signs
of God #9 - December Sky<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The sky is
beautiful in December. It has something to do with the shortening of the days
and the distance of the sun as the earth spins on its axis. Funny how the busy
colors of the season and the shortness of the days can prevent me from ever
looking at the sky during Advent.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But one night I did. We were traveling south on the interstate at rush hour. Both
directions - a sea of candy cane red and white lights moving ever so slowly for
home after a full day. Lucky for me, I was the passenger and kept watching the
western sky with the strong pinks and corals that seemed to put on a show just
for me. At one point, it was as though an umbrella was over all of us, calling all
sojourners to look up and see the wonder of this December night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking up
is hard to do when there is bumper-to-bumper traffic. Looking up is hard to do
when cars are shifting lanes suddenly. Looking up is hard to do when focusing
on the immediate is more important than focusing on the exquisite beauty and
calm of a December sunset. But it is there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Morning
comes and the sky is just as beautiful. Pinks and lavenders dapple the blue.
Still, there is much to do. Appointments, phone calls and work all create a new
kind of traffic and can steal the opportunity for looking up. Oh, it only takes
a second - just a glimpse is reassuring. Just a quick wide view calms and
refreshes and renews. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Luke 21:28
says to "Look up and raise your heads." We are asked to become new
people at Advent. Look up when your gaze is fixed on earth. Look up when you
are disappointed. Look up when your eyes are heavy with tears. Look up and be
filled with the wonder and nearness of God.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">God who
remains constant with us through Advent,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> always looking down from sunrise to
sunset and through the beauty of the starlit night -</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> all we have to do is pause
and look up.....and there you are...... and we are made new. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank you for making it so simple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-67967430664310848632022-12-08T06:00:00.003-05:002022-12-08T06:00:00.176-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "Weeping"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNytg-T0-YRLLPg2IunuiK4h_J1s0hN5xlZ8eOPItLLlB8yNIxBWd3z8b1_o7iyS5NoG0Q4aFO_hyphenhyphensKUSIXN9ZmxcFtmB0HB2qpgxvu0TIwe2LxHo1GAh12fL7JGrdu4AF_hCZDmnud0/s800/weeping.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNytg-T0-YRLLPg2IunuiK4h_J1s0hN5xlZ8eOPItLLlB8yNIxBWd3z8b1_o7iyS5NoG0Q4aFO_hyphenhyphensKUSIXN9ZmxcFtmB0HB2qpgxvu0TIwe2LxHo1GAh12fL7JGrdu4AF_hCZDmnud0/s320/weeping.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Small Signs of God #8 Weeping<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
headlines tear to shreds my peaceful Advent journey. A small child is
senselessly murdered. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">God, where
were you on that playground? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">God, you whose eyes are on the sparrow, who sees
and knows everything, where were you when she cried out, was beaten, tormented
and thrown away?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It is
unthinkable and my heart bleeds for the brokenhearted loved ones whose life
will never be the same. I look for the "small sign of God” and can't seem
to find it through my own weeping. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I return to the
writing of Ann Weems who gives voice to anguish.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">"Anger
and alleluias careen around within me, sometimes colliding. Lamenting and
laughter sit side by side in a heart that yearns for the peace that passes
understanding. Those who believe in the midst of their weeping will know where
I stand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the quiet times this image comes to me: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus weeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Jesus wept, and
in his weeping,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">he joined himself forever<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">to those who mourn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He stands now throughout all time,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">this Jesus weeping<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">with his arms about the weeping ones:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">'Blessed are those who mourn,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">for they shall be comforted.'<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He stands with the mourners,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">for his name is God-with-us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus wept. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">'Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted.'</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Someday. Someday God will wipe the tears from their eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">there is a deafening alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">rising from the souls<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">of those who weep,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and of those who weep with those who weep.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you watch, you will see<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">the hand of God<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">putting the stars back in their skies one by one."( Ann Weems, Psalms
of Lament)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Holy Infant
Jesus, your tears are joined to mine. I hear the alleluias.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /></div>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-86549413875661740562022-12-07T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-07T06:00:00.198-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "Singing"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb_vmoJqIYN11OYg5qCRwDkNT_EZyOzUuWDiyLdgkphvG-O7IQuTrWxig1IGp4GWWHcTQt5dwPzeIlduMfMLcxAXdHsdSltiCh2uG1ewBVRxXXOsoZGKtV5Hq07dUDO9rNKOBZF_lEJep/s1140/1140_carolsingers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb_vmoJqIYN11OYg5qCRwDkNT_EZyOzUuWDiyLdgkphvG-O7IQuTrWxig1IGp4GWWHcTQt5dwPzeIlduMfMLcxAXdHsdSltiCh2uG1ewBVRxXXOsoZGKtV5Hq07dUDO9rNKOBZF_lEJep/s320/1140_carolsingers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Day 7 - Singing</span></p>
<p>We left feeling better than we had felt in a while - actually almost giddy
with musical notes playing over in our minds and warming our hearts. It was a non-pandemic year and we had
been singing Christmas carols with good friends. One sang the traditional
command performance solo, we challenged ourselves with a new duet, and most of
us hit wrong notes as we sang and laughed and loved each other.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p>The next morning I still felt joyful. I
felt energized. I smiled and remembered as those songs
played again in my head and my heart. What is it about singing that makes us
feel so good? Victor Hugo said," Music expresses that which cannot be said
and on which it is impossible to be silent." All the pent up things we can
never say, we can belt out in a song. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p>There are benefits of singing. Singing releases the feel-good brain
chemicals and pain-relieving endorphins; singing helps us breathe better
because we improve our posture and our lung capacity increases; singing
improves our mental alertness and tones our muscles; singing increases our
confidence.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p>As my Advent journey continues, I imagine when Mary first heard from the
angel she needed a very large dose of
confidence. Her visit to her cousin Elizabeth encourages her. Mary is
strengthened in her faith, recognizing that she will play a part in the change
of human history. Overwhelmed, what does she do? She breaks out in song:<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit
rejoices in God my Savior, for he has<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">regarded the low estate of his handmaiden<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">For behold, henceforth all generations will call me
blessed;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">for He who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is His name.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And His mercy is on those who fear Him from
generation to generation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He has shown strength with His arm, He has scattered
the proud in the<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">imagination of their hearts,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and
exalted those of low degree.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He has filled the empty with good things, and the
rich He has sent empty away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of
His mercy, as He spoke<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">to our fathers, to Abraham and to his posterity
forever." (Luke 1)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">How does your soul magnify God?</p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">No one can hear our soul sing- only God. But
if our soul is busting with joy at the news of Jesus this Christmas, it will be
impossible, like Hugo says, to be silent about it.</p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Tonight, in the solitude of your garden, break out in song. The stars will thank you.</p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Creator of my soul, fill me with such wonder of
you that I cannot keep silent.</span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p></div><b><span style="color: #005c5c; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 7.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></b>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-65997872132042518152022-12-06T06:00:00.002-05:002022-12-06T06:00:00.192-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "Personal Touch"<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VQ_uHB1yAobE_gCA8wwQ4tqWteHmFsDeF9lWtl4FVYShEtWaFk0pAT_tvAu8nmBXGaUwG33d6cKaaPSLT2I6LBmhyphenhyphenfnvylQRrg6ol00J4oeaEeCTaheglpuKpAeneFvy9bB5kGeAW5iL/s1920/piano.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VQ_uHB1yAobE_gCA8wwQ4tqWteHmFsDeF9lWtl4FVYShEtWaFk0pAT_tvAu8nmBXGaUwG33d6cKaaPSLT2I6LBmhyphenhyphenfnvylQRrg6ol00J4oeaEeCTaheglpuKpAeneFvy9bB5kGeAW5iL/s320/piano.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Advent Day 6 - The Personal Touch</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Several years ago, I set aside my
morning Advent readings to help a young friend pack her car with suitcases and
preschoolers for the long drive home to Texas. I took the two-year old to the piano
and we sat and played and sang songs together. At one point, the curly-headed
toddler placed both of her tiny, pink hands on my hands and for a few moments,
we were one - playing music together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I looked down at those little
hands resting on mine, felt the warmth of young tender flesh depending on me to
play the notes, and I experienced Advent worship.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How could it be? She was
speeding west in her car seat, but those baby hands lingered, resting on
mine, comforting my soul this Christmas.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Like the baby's hands in the manger that rest on a world of</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">hurting experiences, that soft touch of God
presented itself</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">through my tiny
houseguest for my own personal worship. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Warren Wiersbe in his book <u>Real
Worship </u>says:<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">"There is today such an
emphasis on Bible knowledge that we are in danger of ignoring, or even
opposing, personal spiritual experience. While we must not base our theology on
experience, neither must we debase our theology by divorcing it from
experience. If true worship is the response of the whole person to God, then we
dare not neglect the emotions."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Today, I challenge you to
allow yourself a personal touch from God. Might they be the tender hands of a
toddler? Might they be the aging hands of a parent? Might they be the hands of a
friend, spouse, or a teenager or sales clerk? </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Who will depend on you to
play the Christmas song for them?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">"The Word became flesh,
and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from
the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Holy One,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Guide me to those who need a personal touch from you. Let me be their hands.</span></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-2627798904386349232022-12-05T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-05T06:00:00.200-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "On The Bridge between Sacred and Secular"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbG4D3PFVFmsn709UpNQZjtr5JPzz2vn65yYEKnpeyU4WRLLRd_xfu3RB7Z06spgFamcI-WDfEo5LqH91sbG4Omk9K3gr07jHTCtcNAhE7JGEWsJNDbiyglnd3SogE8TS90QRW6su6cOo/s1000/bridge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbG4D3PFVFmsn709UpNQZjtr5JPzz2vn65yYEKnpeyU4WRLLRd_xfu3RB7Z06spgFamcI-WDfEo5LqH91sbG4Omk9K3gr07jHTCtcNAhE7JGEWsJNDbiyglnd3SogE8TS90QRW6su6cOo/s320/bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Day 5 - <span face="Arial, sans-serif">On the Bridge
between the Sacred and the Secular </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Millions of
people celebrate during the Holiday season, but not all of them are Christians.
They shop and decorate. They attend the politically correct "Holiday"
Party and participate in the music of the season. Some will say they are
Christian, but just have trouble with a virgin birth and a resurrection - the
two, really big mysteries. They say they believe in God and sometimes they go
to church. They think there might be something after death - possibly a Heaven,
but surely not a place called Hell. How could a loving God send someone to
Hell? That's not very Christmas-y.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">And then Advent
comes and asks us to look again at the message proclaimed. The time is here
when prophets warn, stars move in the sky and angels proclaim. Those who are
unsure in their faith find themselves in another Christmas quandary. They find
themselves on the bridge between the sacred and the secular and the choice
becomes one of confusion and distraction. Back and forth they go - we go. The
immediate often reigns over the important. Sometimes it is the good over the
best.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">I heard a
speaker who made a strong point about this division. She said there are two
voices inside of us. Deep inside there is God's Spirit calling. Outside, there
is the world calling - usually in the opposite direction. Somehow those voices vie
for our attention during the time of Advent. The world pulls us to material
pleasures and God's Spirit pulls to one, holy silent night. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">It becomes a
battle and Advent can leave us feeling sad and depressed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">The
conversation between Charlie and Lucy in the movie <i>A Charlie Brown Christmas</i> explains our frustrations:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Charlie Brown:
I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending
Christmas cards and decorating threes and all that, but I'm still not happy. I
always end up feeling depressed."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Lucy: "Charlie
Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like
Christmas and turn it into a problem."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Christmas is
not the problem. Christmas is the solution. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">Christmas is the voice that calls
to us throughout the year. Maybe it's because during this beautiful season for
celebrating, we find ourselves still on that bridge of indecisiveness, still
wondering, still watching for some small sign of God.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">God whose
infant cries call me to your holy night,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif"> Guide my steps
to your sacred manger,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">
For You are the solution.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>For God so loved the
world that He gave His only Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not
perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16 </i></span>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-6802093069975263302022-12-04T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-04T06:00:00.195-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "The Part I Play"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFy2_7buDA7u4zFNZl_PUAngblF8s5fLXEO4KuYiXQtz3D1Q2qsKbUcgLZZfTa9rWNnfeBVZ1l7TGm1EO-I7EaEOuFW4d22fkwt-aqwDaWv88C_ouRarfQr6gUXv0fvLnyJSMpfZFVgSnvIncp5VyWvRXq5UdOixNwPtJ0uRReTIJ---l47ZX9bPhspA/s615/nativity-scene-15444396571FN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="615" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFy2_7buDA7u4zFNZl_PUAngblF8s5fLXEO4KuYiXQtz3D1Q2qsKbUcgLZZfTa9rWNnfeBVZ1l7TGm1EO-I7EaEOuFW4d22fkwt-aqwDaWv88C_ouRarfQr6gUXv0fvLnyJSMpfZFVgSnvIncp5VyWvRXq5UdOixNwPtJ0uRReTIJ---l47ZX9bPhspA/s320/nativity-scene-15444396571FN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Small Signs of God -Day 4 <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Part I Play<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I was in 2nd grade, I was chosen to play the part of
Mary in the Nativity. It was not because I was a budding actress, but
simply because I was tall like David Herrington who played the part of
Joseph and the audience could see us better from a distance. I remember being
excited that I got to bring my favorite doll to wrap and hold while the story
unfolded on stage. I also liked the pale blue gown and the way it draped over
my head and fell in folds to the floor. I had to hold my head very still though
for fear of it falling off. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Most of us have acted out the scene at some point
in our lives. My youngest daughter was a sheep one year and the way her ears
flopped when she baaed made my sides burst. Oh, and one year six children in our home donned bathrobes and acted
out the scene to four proud parents. That one got a little out of hand when the
two shepherds got in a fight with their broom/staffs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today I am asking myself: what part will I play in this year's Nativity? If I am an angel, well, then, I am already in Heaven and have the
privilege of telling others not to worry. I can fly around and sing joyfully.
If I am Joseph, I am dazed and confused, thinking about the newly defined
family I have been asked to support and must find a hotel quickly because a
baby is about to be born that is not even mine. If I am Mary, I am tired and weary,
bearing the weight of the world, facing an uncertain future. If I am the
innkeeper, I am busy making money and knowing these people from Nazareth can't
pay, should send them on their way - or on second thought, offer them the shed.
If I am the shepherds, I am looking for a little action - something in the sky
is different and tending sheep can be such a drag. If I am the Wise Men, well,
I will come later, but I do see something happening different in the stars and
I start shopping for a gift. If I am the animals, I can sense that something is different and
I simply stand very still.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All of creation plays a part in this mystery and wonder of
the birth of Jesus. No one is exempt from the reality of the divine child in
the stable. All Christian theology has its origin in the wonder of that night -
when God became flesh. It is how we "play our part" in the
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in the end, scripture plainly
tells us that every knee shall bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus
Christ is Lord of all. (Romans 14:11) <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>God who becomes flesh among us,</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
to be the angel, glorifying you or the lowly donkey, simply standing very
still,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but
you have made me the human with a choice for the part I will play in your
story.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Will I choose you?</p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2835305458872583598.post-91072557550968382092022-12-03T06:00:00.001-05:002022-12-03T06:00:00.210-05:00Advent - Small Signs of God "Alertness"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3yV_XBnN9L86CJqd6CO5WUjnbUEGWgYy414qj6bQQS1g3OpcCesgnOKIXGmgWCmF_ykQEvyCkO9hW0JQRCh1EJcQQTQKZJZtCVaQOHHTpGt-0T0fwXpsKlGe3ayPFjNKONu2gUuFyLj0/s480/Alvin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3yV_XBnN9L86CJqd6CO5WUjnbUEGWgYy414qj6bQQS1g3OpcCesgnOKIXGmgWCmF_ykQEvyCkO9hW0JQRCh1EJcQQTQKZJZtCVaQOHHTpGt-0T0fwXpsKlGe3ayPFjNKONu2gUuFyLj0/w308-h237/Alvin.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Day 3 Alertness<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If Advent is a season of waiting, then shouldn't we always be alert to that for which we wait? </p><p class="MsoNormal">The
silly song on the radio reminds me that I, too, need to focus on the
one right thing. Alvin, the chipmunk, has the same trouble that so many of us
have each Advent. The director is preparing his group to sing their Christmas song.
Simon is ready. Theodore is ready. But then we hear, "Alvin....<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Alvin.....</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">ALVIN!" </span>Alvin
is looking off, busy with other things, maybe good things, maybe not. Time is
spent getting him back on track to sing his Christmas song. (<i>The Chipmunk
Song (Christmas Don't Be Late;1958)</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">How much time do
you spend getting yourself "back on track" ? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Today I read:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Be Alert, be
alert, so that you will be able to recognize your Lord in your husband, your
wife, your parents, your children, your friends, your teachers, but also in
all that you read in the daily papers. The Lord is coming, always coming. Be
alert to his coming. When you have ears to hear and eyes to see, you will
recognize him at any moment of your life. Life is Advent: life is recognizing
the coming of the Lord."(Henri J.M. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American
Journal)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We hear ourselves respond,
"But I don't see the Lord in that person and I look and look, but can
never find the Lord in the news."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>We keep looking for love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness,
faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And guess what? We find the Lord
either in rejoicing because of the presence of those things or the lamenting
the great need of them. We rejoice with finding the Lord or we search and wait
for Him to be found. Either way, we recognize him and our great need for him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Even the Chipmunks
in <i>Christmas Don't Be Late</i> recognize their need for Christmas when they
sing:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"We've been
good, but we can't last.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Hurry Christmas,
hurry fast!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Try as we might, we
just can't be good in our own might. We can't last. We need the coming of
Christmas to bring us the perfect Christmas gift - grace, wrapped in swaddling
clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Pay attention! We
have a song to sing!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Keep awake -
for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or
at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at down, or else me may find you asleep when he
comes suddenly."(Mark 13:35-36)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Baby of Grace who
comes to us,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>give me ears to hear and eyes to see without
distraction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be alert in order to recognize you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>every moment.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Marcia Gaddishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216949216877321934noreply@blogger.com1