tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82106560116461786372024-03-13T02:14:26.313-05:00robbinswritesVarious musings from Kathy RobbinsKathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.comBlogger202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-40374792588190853832013-06-09T11:37:00.001-05:002013-06-18T16:28:05.266-05:00About Atheism<script type="text/javascript">
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</script><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> One of the most precious gifts that anyone can receive from God is a gift of choice. We can choose to acknowledge the triune God with praise, worship and thankfulness, or not. We can acknowledge that there is a God and choose not to proceed beyond belief in existence. We can do this because God gave us the gifts of reason, logic and choice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have never understood the beauty, majesty and importance of this until faced with a different issue: someone close to me has chosen atheism. Atheism is defined as the theory or belief that God does not exist.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In my world, believing that God does not exist is incredible. I have trouble comprehending how someone who has heard the truth about the living God could opt out; How does one opt out of love, acceptance and a salvation plan that had to have come from God because no man could have conceived anything that amazingly intricate? It is beyond my understanding. But it is someone I love dearly, so I try, with the grace that only God offers, to understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here is some of how it happened. My atheist said,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">" I was told by my parents that there was a Santa Claus, but there isn't. I was told by my parents that there is an Easter Bunny and a Tooth Fairy; but there isn't. The same people told me there is a God. After all of the other lies, I don't believe it." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is actually logical. How do parents go back to a child and say,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Ok, so I did lie about the Easter Bunny and Santa and the Tooth Fairy. But the story about God is really real. I am not lying about that. I promise!'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, I hear the standard comments:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> "Why can't I see God? Why doesn't God appear before me and talk to me? Why is there so much suffering in the world if a caring, loving, God really exists? Why haven't I had a better life than I have if there is a God who loves me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I try, with my own religious theology, to answer these age-old questions the best I can to someone who does not believe, but faith based answers sound lame to those devoid of faith. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But still, I love. And I accept our differences the best that I can. And I try to give space and respect for our differences while loving. And I pray. What I don't do is try to stuff something down someone's throat who doesn't want to hear what I believe about a God who is very real in my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With God's help I come to understand that it is the role of the Holy Spirit to draw people to God; not mine. And I understand that trying to force someone into something that they don't believe might just interfere with the process that I believe that the Holy Spirit is engaged in as I write. I believe that trying to force someone to accept something that they don't believe in is the equivalent of trying to steal the gift of choice that God has granted to all of us. Who am I to try to interfere with any of the gifts of God?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the meantime, I just love and try to set an example. I try to be available to tell the wonderful story of the gospel of Christ that is being created and written in my life every moment of every day. I try to live up to the responsibility that accompanies this gospel. And I fail. Then I repent and try again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I trust that God's gift will bear fruit abundantly in the life of the atheist whom I love dearly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Let it be so!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dignity is defined by the online Bing dictionary as
self-respect; a proper sense of pride and self-respect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was talking to a friend of mine one day and used the word
in our conversation and he commented that this was a word that he had not heard
in years. Until he said that, I had not thought about it, but he is right. This
word is missing from too many vocabularies in our current world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had heard this word many times when I worked in a foundry
and our Human Resources Director explained to me many times that dignity is so
important to a person’s self- worth and we owe it to one another to treat people
in such a way that they are able to maintain their sense of dignity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a young supervisor, I listened closely to
this timeless lesson. She went on to explain to me that even when we had to
terminate an employee, we needed to do it in such a way that that person could
walk out the door with his or her dignity intact. Otherwise, we would destroy a
person’s sense of self-worth. We as supervisors were not in the business of
destroying people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, a good
supervisor will do the opposite. A good supervisor will build people up rather
than tearing them down. He will champion the causes of employees and encourage
them to aspire to excellent performance, and cheer their successes. From time
to time, a supervisor may have to take disciplinary action, up and including
termination. If termination is not in order, disciplinary action is a golden
opportunity for coaching an employee to become more successful and the outcome
can be positive. Sometimes, termination is necessary, but can be done in such a
way that people are not destroyed in the process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Outside of the workforce, the lesson is equally relevant.
When dealing with neighbors, friends, enemies and even ex-spouses, we need to
be gentle with one another. Otherwise, we are adding additional stress to the
lives of others in a very difficult, complex world that just doesn’t have any
more room for additional stress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some years ago, I attended a seminar entitled, “You are not
your circumstances”, sponsored by the First United Methodist Church in Brewton,
Alabama. I needed that seminar, because I was dealing with very difficult circumstances.
I noticed a couple who were fine upstanding people in our community in the
audience. I thought to myself, ‘I wonder why they are here; they don’t have any
problems.’ I even expressed that to a friend when we were riding to the
seminar. She responded, “You know Kathy, I just don’t think that we have any
idea what one another is dealing with in their lives.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time and experience has taught me that she is
right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes dignity is all people have left with which to pick
up pieces from terrible setbacks and move forward. When we destroy someone’s
dignity, we have destroyed the man or woman. When people have lost their self-respect,
they feel as if they have nothing left to lose. I don’t want to meet a person
on the street who is in that mindset. Someone with nothing left to lose will stop
at nothing. Hence we see a killer on the loose after killing three people in
Los Angeles: Christopher Dorner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I do not blame anyone for his actions but him. But I do
realize that when someone feels that he has nothing left to lose, he is apt to
take radical actions, which is what has occurred in this situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Back in Alabama, we had a sayin’: “You can kick a dog only
so many times. Eventually, that dog will come back at you and bite you.” That
is true. Affording a dog his dignity will prevent that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is high time that we as individuals, employers, and
officials realize this and act accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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copyright 2013 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-2562123077440823862013-01-11T10:38:00.001-06:002013-01-11T10:38:06.148-06:00The Human Out of Order Sign<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Desperate for a job, I ran across a listing on Craigslist
for workers at the University of Texas football games. I am an Auburn fan, but
whenever Texas is not playing Auburn or Alabama, I root for them. It sounded
like fun, so I recruited one of my friends, applied for the job and was
immediately hired. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After driving through the Austin traffic, which currently
ranks the second worst traffic for a city in the United States, by some
studies, my friend paid $15.00 to park about a mile from the stadium. Then we
had to hike to the stadium to stand in line and be let in at the appointed
time. Then, we stood in line again, signed in, and were issued the ugliest neon
yellow-green shirts that have ever been designed in the history of humanity. I
think the reason they were this color was two-fold: 1. we could be seen from
far away; and 2. No one in their right mind would want to steal them. The promise was made that the only way that
we could get paid was to sign out and return the shirts after the game. (I
thought, don’t worry. Not even my youngest son would want to wear this shirt,
bless his heart.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After standing around for another hour or two, we were
sectioned off into groups and moved to our respective sections where we stood
around for another hour or two. Then, our group leaders assigned us to our
post. My particular job was by the elevator on the tenth or so floor. I had a
chair to sit in to tell people that they could not use the elevator. There you
have it: I was being paid about $7.50 per hour to be a human, breathing out of
order sign. This was definitely a new
experience. I kind of thought that a paper sign could have sufficed, but I wasn’t
really being paid to think. I was just being paid to tell people that the
elevator did not work. So, I told them. Some wanted to know why. I couldn’t
tell them that. All I could tell them is what I had been told. I had to listen to grumbling about it; I
really felt sorry for some of the disabled people who obviously needed an
elevator, but I could not help them other than to point them to the direction
of a working elevator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like the paper version of me, there were people who ignored
me. One was a coke vendor who stood there pushing the button that would not
work. I knew it would not work, because they had turned the elevator off. It
wasn’t out of order. They apparently did not want it to work. There was a rumor
that they might turn it on after the game, but it wasn’t true. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The coke vendor finally figured out that I was telling the
truth and left. And then there was the female police officer who just brushed
past me, not giving me a chance to tell her that it didn’t work. I just let her
push that button. I guess she thought her badge would make it work, but it didn’t.
Then, she acknowledged me and asked what was wrong. I explained, and she
demanded an explanation immediately. I told her the best one I had: it was
turned off and I didn’t know why. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Texas won the football game and I was released from my
elevator duty. I received my fifty or so dollars, and well the rest is history.
I can scratch being an “Out of Order” sign off of my bucket list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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copyright 2013 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-32949073925256878502013-01-04T05:00:00.000-06:002013-01-06T01:15:19.535-06:00Falling From Grace<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Once upon a time, in a fictional small town somewhere in the
Southern portion of the United States, a woman, who we will call Jan,
encountered a former old schoolmate with whom she had attended the First
Baptist Church. Jan had since moved to another small town in the same portion
of the country, so she was delighted to see a familiar face in her old hometown
that was steadily filling up with strangers. Jan’s friend, who we will call Betty, asked
Jan if she was still singing in the Baptist Church as she had done for years;
or so Betty thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It seems that Jan wasn’t entirely comfortable at the Baptist
church in her new community, so she tried different denominations and finally
found a home at the First United Methodist Church. Well, all good Southern
Baptists know that to leave the Baptist church for the Methodist church is
nothing short of scandalous. So, as soon as Jan explained about her new denomination, Betty immediately replied, “Oh, you fell from
grace!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jan and Betty both immediately erupted in laughter. Jan’s ten
year old daughter Yolanda, was standing
there witnessing the conversation. Yolanda didn’t understand what “falling from
grace” meant, but she was smart enough to know that it meant something bad. And
she loved her mama. She didn’t want anybody insulting her. So she made a mean
face at Betty. She didn’t laugh or smile and she squinted up her eyes, cut her
head to the side and stared hard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jan quickly explained to Yolanda that Betty was just teasing and
they were joking around, but that did little to appease Yolanda, who squinted
even harder at Betty after briefly glancing at Jan. Of course, this only made
Jan and Betty laugh harder, which irritated Yolanda even more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jan and Betty wrapped up their brief reunion and parted
ways, which relieved Yolanda. She didn’t like Betty at all, and didn’t realize
it at the time, but would remember this encounter for the rest of her life. To
her, it was significant because of the emotions that were stirred in her. And
it was a long time before she could allow herself to trust a Baptist again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, Jan had to tell everyone in the extended family about the encounter, which made everyone laugh, except Yolanda.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The next summer, Yolanda returned to her mom’s hometown to
visit her grandparents. She loved coming here, because they always made her
feel special. For the week that she was there, she was able to get all of the
attention, like an only child. Because there was no one else but her to
create commotion, she was subject to more scrutiny that she had at her own home. But feeling special far outdid the price that she would have to
pay with exemplary behavior,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was riding through town with her grandparents in the
backseat of their big burgundy Oldsmobile that seemed to never lose that “new car” smell. She loved
having the whole backseat to herself. She was quietly enjoying the ride. Her
grandparents were talking quietly to themselves, when they just happened to
pass the liquor store. Yolanda didn't know it was a liquor store. She barely
even knew what liquor was. But she did know just a little bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She heard her grandmother exclaim, “Well, there is Bob
Johnson, the head of our deacons of the First Baptist Church in line at the
liquor store!” (EVERYbody knows that Southern Baptists aren’t supposed to
drink.)(Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and is not meant to represent
anyone who may be named Bob Johnson, who happens to be the head deacon at a
First Baptist Church in any small town in the southeastern portion of the
United States. Any similarity in names to any person, living or dead who may be
named Bob Johnson, who is the head deacon at a First Baptist Church in any
small town in the southeastern portion of the United States, is purely coincidental;
especially if the living or dead real Bob Johnson, who is the head deacon at a
First Baptist Church in any small town in the southeastern portion of the
United States happens to frequent the local liquor store. Thank you)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As soon as her grandmother pointed out that the head deacon
at her church was in the line at the liquor store, Yolanda was gripped with a
feeling that she had never had before. She didn’t know what to do. She just had
to do something! So, before she could stop herself, she exclaimed,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">"Oh, well he fell from grace!"</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She still didn’t know what it meant, but judging from her
grandparent’s laughter, she knew that maybe she had hit the nail right on that
Baptist head. And then, she secretly thought, ‘now, take that you Baptists!’</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">From that point on, in her own little mind, she always
felt that she had somehow vindicated her mother.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And they all lived happily ever after.</span></span><br />
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copyright 2013 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-15508697354913022262013-01-03T05:04:00.001-06:002013-01-03T05:04:22.356-06:00'Twas the Week After Christmas By: Rev. Tom Butts<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">AN ENCOURAGING WORD, written for publication in the Monroe
Journal, December 27, 2012, by Dr. Thomas Lane Butts, Pastor Emeritus, First
United Methodist Church, Monroeville, Alabama.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'TWAS THE WEEK AFTER CHRISTMAS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now that the "Big Day" is over and we are trying
to get back to normal, whatever that may be, perhaps we should try to figure
out how to keep some of Christmas in our lives. People tend to feel "let
down" after such an intense celebration. It takes intentional effort
to keep the spirit of Christmas alive when it is over. So many things mitigate
against it. Several years ago Howard Thurman wrote a free-verse
poem about taking Christmas beyond December 25th.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"When the song of the angel is stilled, when the star
in the sky is gone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the kings and princes are home. When the shepherds are
back with their flocks;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The work of Christmas begins:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to
release the prisoner,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To rebuild the nations, to bring peace among people, to make
music in the heart..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of the baubles we got or gave are soon gone, forgotten
or stored out of sight in the attic. What we actually keep from the
season are the intangibles. There is the spirit of excited joy we
experienced/shared with the children who were too young and innocent to worry
about mundane things like paying off credit cards and balancing the budget.
There remains the joy of seeing the older children come home from college
or distant work places, and seeing how they have grown and changed (hopefully
for the better). There is the lingering memory of having extended members of
our family of origin get together to swap grandiose tales of how
things were when they were growing up. For many years my family of origin got
together at the old home place where we grew up during the depression. We would
celebrate the fact that we were all still alive and of sound mind (relatively
speaking). We would recite embellished and polished gems of oral tradition
about the good old days which were so hard -- and so good. But times change.
Death and distance have left my family of origin, and perhaps yours, with only
the memories we struggle to keep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Christmas is not a happy time for everyone. There are people
who, for unspoken reasons, are glad that Christmas is over. They are weary
of pretending to be happy when deep down they are sad. They have felt trapped
by the common expectations of the season and the expectations of others, and
have feigned as best they could a "holiday spirit". We all know
someone for whom this was the first Christmas after some significant loss such
as death, divorce or one of the many other ways you can lose someone or
something. There are those whose historical losses, failures and feelings
of brokenness float to the surface at Christmas time, and they find themselves
reliving some of the worst experiences of their past. And, then there are
also some whose memories of "Christmases past" are just not happy. Be
gentle and careful when you relate to people who morph into modern-day
Scrooges. There are more of them than you think, and the reasons for their
seasonal brittleness may be more complex than you can imagine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This week between Christmas and the beginning of a new year
is a good time to remember resolutions and promises made to ourselves, God, and
other people. Did you keep the promises, or will you need to try again? Let me
tell you a story of someone who kept his promise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was the day after Christmas at a church in San
Francisco. As the pastor of the church was looking at the Nativity scene
in the narthex and getting ready to store it until the next year, he
noticed that the baby Jesus figure was missing from the manger. He went outside
and saw a little boy pulling a red wagon down the street. The baby Jesus
figure was in the red wagon. He walked up to the child and asked, "Son,
where did you get that baby Jesus?” The little boy said, "I got him from
the church." "Why did you take him?", the pastor asked. The
little boy replied, "Well about a week before Christmas I prayed and told
Jesus that if he would bring me a red wagon for Christmas, I would give him a
ride!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May we all be so faithful to our promises -- each in
our own way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-14561011338762198562013-01-02T08:03:00.003-06:002013-01-02T08:03:30.226-06:00Poetry: A Change of Pace<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was on writing scholarship in college, I was
compelled to take a creative writing class on poetry. As you will soon see,
poetry was not really my cup of tea. But here are two of the poems that I wrote
for that class. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This first one, I wrote at the age of eighteen. Not much has
changed since then….</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Oppression</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">I can not be held<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">By words<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">By chains<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">By boundaries<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">Let me free<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">To do as I must,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;"> And I will burst
forth <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">With<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;">Freedom and Happiness…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was an assignment to write a poem with a particular
rhyme scheme. The professor said that it could be a nonsense poem, but she just
wanted the particular rhyme scheme. Since my best attribute is nonsense, this
is what I wrote:</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Piggily Wiggily </i></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Piggily Wiggily<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Vladimir Nabokov<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Characteristically selling his bod.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>So continentally Mediterranean,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>His creativity gets him the nod.</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Professor liked that one. Ha! (My apologies to Mr. Nabokov)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And last of all, the unfinished one:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Autumn</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Autumn's chilly evening,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Shrouded peacefulness,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Slow and quick painful sting,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Traitor nonetheless</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will finish this one soon. Obviously, I still have miles to go before I sleep....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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copyright 2013 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-46003290231304347312012-12-27T02:35:00.001-06:002012-12-27T02:35:25.688-06:00A Messy Situation<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">J</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ackie picked up the phone to hear from her oldest friend,
Rosa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“What’s up?” Jackie asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Well, I have a problem, and I need your advice.” Rosa
answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Sure. Lay it on me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“ Well, you know I have been friends with Delores since high
school and you know she is married to Ron. Well, I just found out that Ron is
dating Jeannie and now Jeannie is pregnant with his baby. What I am wanting to
know, is should I tell Delores, or should I just keep out of it? I mean, I don’t
want to break her heart with the news, but I don’t want her to not know
something that she should know, and I don’t want her to find out that I knew
and never told her. Oh, I just don’t know what to do. What do you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jackie said,” Boy, when you said you had a problem, you were
serious. I was hoping that you just wanted to know if you should wear the brown
sweater or the black one. How do you know that he is dating Jeannie and how do
you know she is pregnant and how do you know that he is the father?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“You know, I have seen Ron and Jeannie together several
times, and have been hearing from the guys at work that he is dating her. This
has been going on for a while. Last night, I found out from Peggy Sue that she
is pregnant, and it is a sure thing. It is definitely Ron’s baby. And Delores
is just walking around without a clue. I feel so bad for her!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Ok. If you are sure that Ron is really seeing this girl and
you are sure that she is pregnant with his baby, how do you know Delores doesn’t
know? I mean really, a lot of times wives know more about what their husbands
are doing than people realize. Sure, they never admit it to anyone else. But
they know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“No, Jackie. I really don’t think that she does know. I am
telling you. I talk to her and I can tell she doesn’t really have a clue. You
know, she and I have been close over the years. I really don’t know what to do.
My mom has always said ‘Don’t tell someone because they won’t get mad at the
cheating spouse. They will get mad at you for telling them.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Well, I wouldn’t want someone to tell me. I would probably
be very upset, embarrassed and annoyed. The way I would look at it, if it were
my husband, I would not want one of my closest friends to tell me. I would want
to find out on my own. It would save me at least some embarrassment that way. I
mean, who would want to have to hear it from their best friend? She will
already be humiliated enough without that adding to the humiliation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“You wouldn’t want someone to tell you Jackie? Really?
Because I would want <i>you</i> to tell <i>me</i>!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“ No way, Rosa, I wouldn’t want to hear it from my bestie. I
wouldn’t want to tell you either. That is a horrible situation. I still say
that Delores may know more than you think. She may know about the affair and
not talking about it because she is in denial or she silently accepts it. You
just never know what people have worked out between each other when they are
married.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Oh yeah, you can bet I would want you to tell me so that I
wouldn’t waste any time divorcing that sorry sucker!” Rosa replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I can’t tell you what Delores wants, but I can tell you
beyond the shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t want you to tell me, if it were me
in that situation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Wow. OK. I guess I won’t tell her then. But I have a
feeling that a divorce is on the horizon, and I just hate to see what Delores
is about to be put through.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">2 weeks later</span><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hello?” Rosa says as she answers the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hey Rosa, it’s Jackie. Guess who is pregnant?” Jackie asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Linda,” replies Rosa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Yeah,” says Jackie. It seems that Fred saw fit to blab it
to me at work. He thought I knew already. He thought my sweet husband Sam had
already left me, since he has a baby on the way with his girlfriend. I promise
you, I never saw this coming.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I am so sorry, Jackie. I had heard it. I wanted
to tell you, but I didn’t know if you would just get mad at me, or if you would
want me to tell you. That is why I made up that whole story about Delores,
Jeannie and Ron. I had to see what you wanted me to do. I am so sorry….”</span></span><br />
<br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-51487281401921139832012-12-26T11:36:00.003-06:002012-12-26T11:39:51.464-06:00Just a Little Gift<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;">I</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> had the honor of attending Christmas Eve candlelight
service on Monday night at my church, The Journey UMC. Our pastor informed us
that we could partake in a church tradition, after the service. The church made
gift or goody bags available to us to take out into the world. He suggested
that we drop them off with people who were at work still at the grocery stores
or drug stores or where ever we could find that someone was not able to go to a
candlelight service on Christmas Eve. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He suggested that we give them a bag and tell the person
that this is from The Journey UMC and that we just want you to know that we
wish you a Merry Christmas and wanted to pass to you the peace of Christ on
this Christmas Eve. (Or something like that.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;">I took three of these bags. I had to go shopping after the
service, so I went to Walmart and bought groceries. I gave the first bag to the
cashier who waited on me. She took it and thanked me, set it down and went back
to work.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">As I was walking out, the store manager was standing just
outside the door to tell people approaching the door that they would be closing
in just 5 minutes. I gave one of the bags to him, but he was hesitant to take
it. He stood there with his arms folded, looking at me.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> Finally, he said, “You
meant to tell me that this is free?”</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> I said, “Yes, it is free. It is from my
church. We wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.” He took it from me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Then, when I got to my car, a worker stood beside my buggy
and told me he would take my buggy for me as soon as I was finished with it. I
extended a bag to him.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"> He said, “Oh no, ma’am. I am sorry. We are not allowed
to accept things from anyone.” </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I said, “Really? Because I just gave one to your
manager and he accepted it. So you take it too. It is from my church and we
want you to have a Merry Christmas.” </span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He said, “My manager took one?” </span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I said, “Yes,
he did. And you take one too. If it makes you feel more comfortable, don’t tell
anyone, but you take this and have a Merry Christmas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Finally, he accepted the bag and took the buggy too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white; font-size: large;">I never knew that giving something to someone would be so
hard. But, I guess that maybe God feels the same way sometimes.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-37329655676741179892012-12-25T04:17:00.001-06:002012-12-25T04:17:39.010-06:00Who Started This Christmas Business<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">AN ENCOURAGING WORD written for publication in the Monroe
Journal, December 13, 2012, by Dr. Thomas Lane Butts, Pastor Emeritus, First
United Methodist Church, Monroeville, Alabama<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Christmas season is a cheerful time for most people, but
there are frustrations. Even people who tend to keep life manageable
occasionally encounter some unsettling and frustrating experiences in the
hustle and bustle of the season. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are people for whom Christmas provokes deep feelings
of sadness. It is a time for remembering, and not all our Christmas memories
are happy. For some it is the first Christmas after a sad experience -- death
of a loved one, a divorce, etc. When you are expected to look and act happy,
but you are sad, it is easy to forget the reason for the season, and pray it
will soon be over.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could offer tons of conventional advice on how to keep
meaning in the season. I am a professional at offering conventional advice
about many things, but after more than a half-hundred years in an advisory
capacity, I have come to the conclusion that most people already know more
conventional wisdom than they care to use, and that most people for whom
Christmas is an unhappy time can find someone to help them through, if they are
interested in help. But let's face it, there are people who actually enjoy
being unhappy. Their lives and their relationships are defined by their
negative view of life. Don't try to cure their condition. You will end up being
caught up in it. Just avoid them, if you can.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When money is<i> limited</i> and demands (or perceived
demands) are <i>unlimited</i>, it is frustrating. When you feel obligated to
match gift for gift. dinner for dinner, Christmas card for Christmas card --
when you feel compelled to attend and give so many parties, when you focus on
the<i> business</i> of Christmas, it is easy to lose sight of the <i>heart</i>
of Christmas. And if we are not careful the glitter, the gifts, the food, the
parties, and the over-the-top commercialization of Christmas will leave us
physically tired, spiritually empty, emotionally over-spent, and perhaps
financially broke. It is a sad critique of the holiday set aside to honor one
who taught us of love, peace, and kindness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you become stressed out humor helps, and there is
always humor to be found as children begin to sense some suspicious
inconsistancies in the Santa Claus myth. One child climbed up on the lap of
Santa Claus at a department store and shared his wish list. Later that day, in
another store, there was Santa again, who when he saw this child said,
"Ho, ho, ho, what would you like for Christmas this year?" With a
puzzled and suspicious look on his face the child admonished Santa, "You
really need to write these things down!" When my grand neice, Callie, was
about 8 years old her parents gave in to her barrage of suspicious questions
and confessed to her the truth about Santa Claus. This bright and perceptive
little girl then asked her parents: "What else have you been lying to me about?"
The weak effort to continue the myth beyond credulity can be humorous. A father
said to his young daughter, "Look at all the presents Santa left for
you!", to which the child replied, "Dad, this looks like your
handwriting". Dad said, "Well, I let him borrow my pen".
Daughter pushed on, "That wouldn't change his handwriting".
"Well" said Dad "we also had a couple of glasses of wine
together" Look for the humor as well as the holiness in Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was a mother who was Christmas shopping with her two
young children. After three hours of looking at row after row of toys and
hearing them ask for everything they saw on those shelves, she was feeling the
overwhelming pressure that so many feel during the holiday season. She was
relieved when she finally made it to the elevator.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the elevator doors opened there was already a crowd in
the car. Determined to get out of the department store as soon as possible, she
pushed her way into the crowded car, dragging her two kids and her packages
with her. When the doors closed she couldn't take it anymore. She blurted out
in an angry voice, "Whoever started this whole Christmas business should
be found, strung up and shot!" <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the back of the elevator a quiet and calm voice
responded, "Don't worry, we have already crucified him". <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rest of the trip down the elevator was so quiet that you
could have heard a pin drop. Hmmmmmm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-60875836522961189042012-12-13T05:00:00.000-06:002013-06-18T16:29:54.871-05:00Last Words<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was my best laughing buddy. Billie Ann and I had met while passing one another on the breezeway at Alco Baptist Church, dropping off our respective children at daycare. We started out saying Hello to one another. Then, it was short conversations as we waited for our children to gather their things. After a while, it turned into longer conversations. Over time, a friendship developed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She worked for a contractor and I worked at a foundry. We discussed our jobs, kids and exes. And we laughed at anything and everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She went through some hard times and so did I. We were both laid off from our jobs. But we still laughed. We started hanging out at each other’s houses, met each other’s families, shared meals and kept laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was a little heavy and decided to have bariatric surgery to lose weight. I cheered her on. She had to have a whole battery of tests run beforehand. They x-rayed her whole body, I think. She was winded easily, but I always figured that was because of her weight. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When she moved out of her house, I helped her move. Our children played together, fought with each other and went to each other’s Birthday parties. We all sometimes attended church together. We were like peas and carrots.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I remember her saying that she was feeling kind of spooky about praying recently because everything that she prayed for was coming to pass. She said that it was the first time in her life that this had happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The day of Billie Ann’s surgery came and she did well. She stayed in the hospital a couple of days and then went home to her Aunt’s to recover. The boys and I visited her there, and other than being tired, she seemed well and was losing weight. The plan was for her to lose a certain amount of weight, and then find a new job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I took her for return appointments and to get a B-12 shot for energy. They gave me a B-12 shot too. She started feeling really bad and they put her back in the hospital. She remained winded and had some other complications that really puzzled the doctors. I got my ex to watch the boys and went to the hospital to visit her and laughed with her. We hoped they would find the problem soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The next day, I found out that she was in ICU. The doctors knew that she was getting worse, but still couldn't pinpoint the cause of the problem. Again, I visited and we talked and laughed together. I didn’t know what to do to help her. I wasn't a doctor. But they say that laughter is the best medicine, so I could definitely help with that. We spoke about our plans when she was released from the hospital. We laughed some more, I fed her some ice chips, which is all they would let her eat and started towards the door to go home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is the part in which I have to talk about the fact that I am not a mushy person and don’t go around telling people that I love them all of the time. Really, I don’t. Obviously, if I didn't like someone, I wouldn't be around them. I count my mere presence as affirmation. I expect for others to do the same. But, for some reason, something told me to tell Billy Ann that I loved her. It was like a little voice that I didn't hear often. But I obeyed. I turned around and said, “I love you”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I went home and started to go and visit her the next day. Again, that little voice spoke to me instructing me this time to put my own family first, so I took my son to his soccer game instead. As I was turning in to the field, I thought of John 14:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: orange;"> Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was a comforting scripture to me that had been recited by my grandmother with my mother when she was dying. I made a mental note to read it to Billy Ann the next time I visited her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But it was not to be. See, Billy Ann passed away at the same time that the scripture was brought to my remembrance. Her lung collapsed, and the doctors did emergency exploratory surgery to determine the cause. That was when they found a massive, malignant tumor wrapped around her heart and lungs. They said it was inoperable and that she would die. And she did just a few hours later. I always wondered how they didn't know about the tumor with all of the tests that they ran before her initial surgery. And, I understood why she had been so winded all of that time. It wasn't because of her weight alone, but because she was fighting against a tumor that she didn't know she had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One thing I was glad about was that my final words to her were “I love you”. I had no regrets about our friendship; none about words not said. When we think about what we are saying to people, we need consider whether it will be our last time to speak to them. Those moments happen when we least expect them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This story is a little hard to follow, so just be patient with me. I didn't know of a better way to tell it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jim died in the early 70’s, and was buried in a family
cemetery in central Alabama. Ruth, his widow remarried her widowed boss years
later. Soon after the nuptials were exchanged, her family became concerned
about the manner in which her new husband treated her. He wasn't very
considerate. It was actually just a conflict. They were in love with the same
person: him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It probably wasn’t his fault. After all, he didn’t even have
a real name. He had initials. His name was DA. I swear, it is the truth. Ok,
the initials may have been changed to protect innocent people in this family’s
story, but otherwise it is all the truth. The D and the A didn’t stand for
anything, (well not officially); that was truly his name. When I was little, I
knew of a little boy named Ronald Bryan who was called RG. That made sense. But
this man’s name was DA. What could one expect of someone who didn’t have a real
name? He was probably bullied as a child because of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, DA, being the insensitive individual that he was, bless
his heart, outlived Ruth and had her laid to eternal rest in a mausoleum in an
affluent city in Florida, right next to his first wife, Mary. Ruth’s family was
incensed and privately wondered among themselves if he got a discount for
having his own row of wives in the mausoleum-kind of a quantity discount, if
you will. Ahem. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ruth’s two sons would have preferred that their mother be
buried next to their father in Alabama, but DA forgot to ask them. So their
opinion was a moot point; well, sort of.
Did I say “eternal rest” earlier? Sorry, maybe I should have said “rest
stop”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">DA remarried not long after he sent Ruth to her rest stop at
the mausoleum. But he outlived this wife too. I am sure she was laid to rest on
his row at the same cemetery, but I didn’t check. He also outlived one of
Ruth’s sons. The other son, Scott, contracted cancer and his life appeared to
be coming to a close. Scott’s niece Abby
and her family came for a visit. While in town, she phoned DA, to the shock and
surprise of her family. She explained that he had been her step-grandfather, so
she was curious about him. Two weeks, later, DA died unexpectedly. (As
unexpectedly as a 95 year old man can die.) Her very insensitive family, bless
their hearts, laughed and hollered accusing Abby of somehow causing his death
with her phone call.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Scott almost jumped for joy. Unbeknownst to everyone else,
Scott had been waiting for DA’s death. He had been determined to outlive him
even if only for 5 minutes. With DA dead, Scott was now legally his mother’s
next of kin. As her rightful, legal next of kin, he decided to have her
transferred off of the DA row at the mausoleum to the family burial cemetery in
Alabama. She would be buried next to her first husband and Scott’s dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Abby heard about this and scrunched up her face. She thought
the whole thing was a little creepy. She made a mental note in her head to go
see the movie “Invasion of the Body Snatchers ”. Abby thought that the dead
should be left to rest in their place and not disturbed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Scott seemed to be in remission and showed signs of strengthened
health as he began to planning for her body to be transferred. He quickly
discovered that it would be a lot more expensive to have her moved than he
thought. He stewed about this problem for a while, and finally arrived at a
solution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Scott’s son Timmy was a brawny man who drove eighteen
wheelers for a living. He drove from Miami northward to all kinds of
destinations in the Northern U.S. Scott would have Timmy to pick up a load in
Miami, then go to the city in Florida that had the cemetery where his mother
was, pick her up and put her casket on the back of the trailer. With the truck
loaded with his cargo and grandma, Timmy would drive Granny to Alabama and drop
her off at her final resting place (hopefully) and be buried next to Scott’s
dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pause….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ummm, yeah. This was really happening. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Abby heard about
these plans and was mortified. Oh. My. God. Tell me this isn’t happening; not
anywhere in the world; not in this country; in my family; Oh My. God. Abby
thought. “No!!! Tell me this is not going to happen!” she said. “Please tell me, tell me that ya’ll are not
going to move my Granny Ruth, my DEAD Granny Ruth, from her resting place in
Florida to a grave in Alabama, on the back of an eighteen wheeler?! Please tell
me that Timmy will not be tooling all over Florida and Alabama with Granny Ruth
in the back of his truck? ” Abby didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry.
This had to be the most preposterous, redneck thing that had ever occurred in
her life, much less than in her family. This was even worse than the stories
about Uncle Billy roasting road kill on the boy’s weekend of camping years ago
with his son-in-law and Abby’s Dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A visual thinker, Abby’s imagination began churning. Timmy
is driving along, with a load of widgets in his eighteen wheeler, Grannys
casket perched on top of a box of the widgets on the tail end of the truck. On
the way to Detroit, Michigan, Timmy will just drop her dead butt in Alabama.
But, two hours before he arrives at the cemetery in Alabama, a car pulls out in
front of him. He has to slam on brakes to keep from running completely over the
car. His truck subsequently jack knives, causing the load to shift. The load
slams against the back door, breaks the bars holding the doors closed. Then the
broken doors swing open, Granny’s casket becomes airborne, at which point
Granny Ruth’s body is extricated from the casket, and flies solo, landing on
the hood of some poor soul’s car. . The police would be called, along with the
fire truck and ambulance. Traffic would be stopped. The paramedics would go to
the body on the hood of the car and try to revive a woman who had been dead for
over sixteen years, not to mention embalmed. At some point they would realize
that there was something bad wrong, and the whole family would be featured on
CNN News. People would be interviewed. The media would find a toothless, obese
woman to say, “Yeah, I seen it all! At first, I thought it was a UFO coming at
us! Then, I realized, it was a woman and a casket. Then I walked over to look
at her and realized somethin’ wasn’t right ‘tall. And I says to my husband,
‘Floyd, somthin’ ain’t rite here!’” Talk about a nightmare! This whole thing
was crazy. Indeed, this was one of the few times that Abby was actually
comforted by the fact that her father was dead; at least he wasn’t here to
witness this. She also secretly decided that if this scenario did play out
anywhere remotely like her imagination pictured, she would change her last name
from Watson to Smith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Abby was invited to a short prayerful ceremony at the
destination cemetery, which she respectfully declined on the grounds that if
Granny Ruth was unhappy with the whole disturbance and her ride on the back of
the truck, she would not be implicated and later haunted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Luckily, the body was transferred without incident and Scott
seemed quite pleased with himself. (Thanks be to God. Abby shuttered at the
thought of what Act II might involve if Scott were not satisfied). Abby didn’t go within 100 miles of the ceremony
and there was no involvement with CNN for anyone in the family. Scott said that
was the last thing that he was waiting to accomplish in this lifetime and true
to his word, died within six months. He was buried in the same cemetery in
Alabama. And as of this writing, everyone is still where they were buried.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p>Thanks be to God and Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">_______________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">355. Warm covers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">356. The new covenant</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">357. Books</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">358. Decorated Christmas tree</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">359. My health</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-87587390911125108182012-12-11T05:00:00.000-06:002012-12-12T04:23:36.964-06:00The Last Lick; Kathy Style<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, I published an article written by Rev. Tom Butts
entitled “<a href="http://robbinswrites.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-last-lick-by-rev-tom-butts.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">The Last Lick</span></a>”. It reminded me of a personal story of my own on this
subject.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was raised in a highly verbal family, led by two very
intelligent quick-witted parents. So, it is really no mystery that my siblings
and I were also well-versed in quick witted replies. Lively conversations were
quite common, with zingers flying fast and furious through the air.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I think that my mom
and I were the worst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> “You two just go at
each other sideways,” my father said one day. And on another occasion, she and
I were going at it, and he announced that he was leaving for work. We continued
with our debate, (which of course, is a polite word for argument), without
slowing down to bid him adieu. He repeated this statement two or three times to
no response from us, when he finally said, “Well, aren't ya’ll going to tell me
to be careful?!” We stopped arguing, I
mean debating, looked at him and burst out laughing. We chimed in telling him
to be careful and enjoy his night. Satisfied that he had stopped the lively exchange
and gotten some attention for himself, he departed. The altercation was over.
Well, it is hard to be mad when you are laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Home wasn't the only place that we learned our quick verbal
self-defense skills. School was another place that this art was honed. “Cut
down wars” were a favorite past-time at lunch and before and after school. We
were good at them, and it wasn't unusual for our teachers to jump in, or even
start them. “You people have diarrhea of the mouth and constipation of the
brain!” one teacher liked to tell us. We were used to it, so we would laugh
with her. Recently forgetting that everybody had not had Mrs. Carden’s seventh
grade English class with me, I said that about someone else recently and he was
highly offended. I really didn't mean to insult him terribly; I was just joking
around with him like Mrs. Carden used to do with us. Oops!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was always quick to pop back at someone who would try to
insult me and my personal motto was to get them worse than they had gotten me.
Such was the case one evening at work when I worked in a foundry. A number of
new supervisors had been hired in anticipation of opening a new plant. Then,
the bottom dropped out of the economy, orders were scaled back significantly
and we were unable to open the new plant and had to cut back on production at
the existing plant. The obvious result was that supervisors would have to be
laid off. ( Which is a polite word for fired).
We knew that some of us would get the proverbial ax and were
discussing which ones of us it would be. Just for the sake of luck, I made the
comment that it might be me. (If I didn't think it would be me, then Murphy’s
law says that it probably would; but as long as I could admit my vulnerability,
then maybe it wouldn't be me. That was my thinking anyway.) Then, one
particular supervisor, whose name I won’t divulge said, “No, just because we
don’t like you doesn't mean we can all vote to get rid of you!” I had a quick
comeback to that very rude statement, but was unable to deliver it, because he hurriedly
walked off. Not to be outdone, I waited about half an hour to give him time to
forget, and then approached him. I said, “ I might be the one nobody likes, but
at least I’m not the one on my third marriage!. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Feeling superior, I looked at him and saw that he had a look
on his face that looked like I had just slapped him. I thought he was going to
cry. Immediately feeling terribly, I realized that I had indeed crossed a line
that I shouldn't have. He didn't say a word. He had no comeback for that, but
actually I felt so bad and was so sorry that I had said it. I regretted saying
something so cruel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Actually, what I didn't know, but later found out, was that
he was on his third marriage, but his current wife was about to leave him. And
not only was he divorced twice, but both times, his wives had left him and
filed for divorce. This story seems so horrible to me now, that it is actually
hard for me to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I had never been married at the time; no one can give
parenting advice like the person who has never been a parent and no one can
give marital advice like the one who has never been married. Once I got
married, like 75% of marriages today, it too ended in divorce. Having this experience
now has taught me not to throw stones at others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He had hurt me with his cruel words, but I had hurt him much
worse, and no claim to winning an argument was worth that. I decided then to
never say anything like that to anyone again, even if it meant that I would
lose an argument, or look dumb or stupid or any of those things. There are some
things that mean more in the long run. I have held to that decision for the
most part. There are of course some exceptions, but leaving people with their
dignity means more than being one-up on someone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I realized too, that the words not said are words that don’t
have to be retracted. My newer motto is “ I've never had to apologize for
something I didn't say.” And that holds true. Whether it is physical or verbal,
Rev. Butts is right. Sometimes, it is just better to let the other person have
the last lick.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">_______________________________________________________</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">347. The cold weather</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">348. Successful surgery for a friend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">349. The amazing recovery of Joyce Boelsche</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">350. Psalm 91.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">351. Love</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">352. 24-hour grocery stores.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">353. The birth of healthy babies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">354. My readers</span><br />
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opyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-80774191084672269882012-12-10T14:54:00.001-06:002012-12-10T14:58:51.373-06:00The Last Lick By: Rev. Tom Butts<script type="text/javascript">
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AN ENCOURAGING WORD, written for publication in the Monroe
Journal, December 6, 2012, by Dr. Thomas Lane Butts, Pastor Emeritus, First
United Methodist Church, Monroeville, Alabama<o:p></o:p></div>
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THE LAST LICK<o:p></o:p></div>
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A little girl came in from the playground at school one day
sobbing as if her heart would break. The teacher asked the child if she was
hurt, to which she said, "No". "Then why in the world are you
crying?" asked the teacher. Between sobs the little girl said, "Susan
hit me and the bell rang before I could hit her back".<o:p></o:p></div>
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The urge to hit back, "get even" with
people who have hurt us is powerful. It has broken up friendships, disrupted
families and even started wars. We want to have the "last word" in an
argument and the "last lick" in a fight. Nothing is more fragile than
our pride. But anybody can get in the "last word" or the "last
lick" and keep the battle going. Only the strong and most mature can
absorb the last lick or the last word and end the battle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If there is anything that the world, our country and our
community sorely needs, it is people who have enough maturity and grace to
allow someone else to have the last word or the last lick. Having the strength
not to strike back may cause momentary pain, but after the initial blow to
pride, that pain is transformed into strength. Conversely, those who have the
last word initially feel very good about their conquest, but after that initial
flush of pride, last words turn into ashes in one's mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One of the most notable achievements of Jesus, for which he
is remembered as one of uncommon strength, was how he let the cruel world have
the last lick. Even the hardened Roman soldiers on the execution team which
carried out the crucifixion looked up at him as he died and began to wonder
who had won, them or him. Today, there is no doubt about who won. But, what if
Jesus had insisted on the last lick or the last word?<o:p></o:p></div>
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It takes real maturity to deal with conflicts in such way as
to bring lasting peace. In addition to all the theological understandings
of Jesus, he is also a noble and notable model for us in dealing with verbal
and physical conflict.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Test the strength of your character today - let someone else
have the last word, and if necessary let someone else get in the last lick.<o:p></o:p></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-69929127795145146182012-11-05T08:56:00.002-06:002012-11-05T09:07:48.823-06:00An Encouraging Word<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #eeeeee;">This is different from anything that I have ever heard about </span><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">love and hate.</span></span></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">By Rev. Dr. Thomas Lane Butt</span><span style="background-color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;">s</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;">REFLECTIONS ON PSYCHIATRIST, KARL MENNINGER</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While going through a file on "Love and Hate" I came across </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">references to the works of Dr. Karl Menninger, and I remembered how much Dr. Menninger has influenced the thinking of students of Pastoral Care, and the impact he has had on me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Known as the Dean of American Psychiatry, Dr. Karl Menninger (1893-1990) was one of the most practical and influential psychiatrists in America. Together with his family, he founded a world-renowned psychiatric clinic modeled after the Mayo Clinic, and located in his home town of Topeka, Kansas. President Jimmy Carter awarded Dr. Menninger the Presidential Medal of Freedom in recognition in recognition of his wide-ranging contributions. Unlike many psychiatrists, Menninger was neither hostile or indifferent toward religion, even though he was well aware of the vulnerability of those with mental illness to sick religion.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Many clergy seeking specialized training in Pastoral Counseling have been trained at Menninger's clinic, and many more have been trained in the concepts found in his writings. I never visited the Menninger Clinic, but many of his books were required reading when I was a graduate student at Northwestern University and Garrett Biblical Institute and when I was a chaplain intern at Cook County Hospital in Chicago in the mid-fifties.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Menninger spoke of the power of love in a manner that was consistent with the teachings of Jesus. According to Dr. Menninger, love is an essential element of good mental health. He wrote of the need to "replace with love the blind compulsion to give hostages to hatred as the price for living". I was particularly interested in his clinical concepts of how to deal with anger and hate. I grew up in a religious atmosphere in which the expression of such strong negative feelings was forbidden, and anger and hate were therefore either ignored or repressed. And when at last these feelings did make their way to the surface, they were generally misdirected and often violent. As a child I was taught at home, church and school that hate and anger in almost every form was un-Christian. As an adult I learned that forbidding such feelings is not only unrealistic, but ultimately dangerous. When a person is not taught how to creatively handle the natural feelings of hatred and anger, these feelings often begin to control a person's behavior in unhealthy and destructive ways. I cannot tell you how often I hear people say they "feel hurt" when it is quite clear that they are angry but cannot bring themselves to express that anger. Hurt feelings, more often than not, is anger turned in on oneself. Unexpressed and inverted anger lead naturally to depression.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is interesting how freely we use the word "love" to describe a myriad of people, places, objects, situations, ideas, etc. We understand that love has many meanings. Yet, somehow, we assign only one definition to the word "hate", and it is dark, sinister, and most unchristian. The dictionary simply defines "hate": "to dislike intensely, to feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward." All of my ministry I have talked with people who could not bring themselves to use the word "hate" as a label for their feelings toward certain people who had used and abused them. The word was airbrushed from their vocabulary even as they described people who have kept them in abusive and destructive relationships. The only way they could bring themselves to even mention the emotion of hate when it was so obviously present, and more than justified, was to wrap it up in a semantic safeguard such as, "I hate their ways, but not the person" But, there is one person they will openly and verbally hate without any hesitation. They will say, "I hate myself". Once again we see a powerful feeling misplaced by turning it in on the victim. Self-hatred becomes a sick substitute for the expression of what is actually felt toward people who have been the real enemies of the our best interest and the source of our mental and (sometimes) physical distress. Can you hear what I am saying?!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In his book, "Man Against Himself", Menninger addressed the very root of the problem. He said, "We have come to see that just as a child must be taught to love wisely, so that child must also learn to hate expeditiously, to turn destructive tendencies away from himself and toward the enemies that actually threaten his well-being rather than toward the friendly, defenseless and the more usual victims of destructive energy". The "hating expeditiously" part of that counsel would have been completely unacceptable in the religious and social milieu in which I grew up. But after more than a half-century of trying to help people who were sick in mind, body and spirit from having turned their hatreds and anger in on themselves, I understand the efficacy of Menninger's counsel. To turn hatred and anger in on oneself is not a religious virtue. It is a self-inflicted wound and the source of a plethora of emotional and even physical problems, none of which are virtuous.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If the idea of "hating expeditiously" in some way offends your religious sensitivities, read the Book of Psalms with that phrase in mind. The Psalmists were not afraid to be angry or afraid to hate expeditiously. Here in this part of the Bible to which we characteristically turn for comfort and guidance in troubled times, the Psalmists knew how to purge their souls by directing their hatred where it belonged. The word "hate" is used more times in the Book of Psalms than in any other book in the Bible. The Psalmist in Psalm 139 speaks of how he feels toward the enemies of the Lord. "I hate them with perfect hatred" (verse 22).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We all know that hatred is not only a natural but also a dangerous emotion. It becomes malignant when it "freezes" and will not be moved by love or reason. Be careful with hate, but do not "deep-six" it. If you do, it will come back to haunt and harm you in many dangerous and unexpected ways.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was initially shocked when Menninger wrote that "each person kills himself in his own selected way, fast or slow, soon or late, and the methods are legion". But at this end of my life I am shocked and saddened to see the ways in which people do just that, consciously or unconsciously, with the bottle, a drug of preference, a fork, by driving 90 miles an hour, or you name it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Someone once asked Menninger what to do if you felt you were having a nervous break down. He said, "Lock up your house, go across the railroad tracks and find someone in need and do something for them". That sounds like the advice of an old friend of ours who lived 2000 years ago. Hmmmmmmm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thankfulness Challenge or Joy Dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am Thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">338. Mondays. Yes, I did say Mondays.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">339. Waking up to Mountain Dew in the bottle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">340. Rev. Thomas Lane Butts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">341. Karl Menninger</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">342. All of the emotions that God blessed us with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">343. The life of Sue Gage. May she rest in peace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">344. The life of Walter Steele. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">345. Cool mornings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">346. An extra hour of sleep yesterday morning.</span><br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-58579110031283188932012-11-01T20:14:00.003-05:002013-06-18T16:31:21.962-05:00A Child's View of the Visit to the Dead Sea Scrolls<script type="text/javascript">
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This summer I didn't do much. I went around cutting grass. I went to go see the FIRST writings of the BIBLE!-)! I played football. My summer was REALLY FUN! When I sent to go see the first writings of the bible, I saw torn pieces of paper and burnt pieces. There was even a journal that was in Hebrew and there is a machine where you can translate it to English. My Mom did translate. But I was wanting to translate something else. I saw an old jug. They used to put wine in a big jug and have someone carry it to Jesus then Jesus would give the person who carried the jug a bible or a new jug to keep. Every time someone delivered the wine someone would go to the only guard tower and that only guard tower had an angel with a sword on fire like the ones guarding the garden of Eden. The reason why they need an angel is because the people work hard making their clay houses. History hasn't changed much. They had sandals. We have sandals. See, some things haven't changed. The angels that guarded Jesus still are in the town where Jesus rose up to heaven. I got all that info just from a journal.<br />
<br />
The End<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The following is absolutely the best, most true statement that I have heard about the election. And I am thankful and just flat out proud to have heard it in the middle of a sermon from my pastor, Rev. Kyle Toomire:</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>“…look around us – everywhere we see people who are lost and hurting. All around us we see anger, resentment, and moral breakdown. And the church has to stop looking to the things of the world for answers.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>I do not care what the commercials or the newspapers or the pundits tell you – WE CANNOT ELECT a Savior. He has already come."</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Amen.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The presence and number of children is one of the strongest indicators of the health of a church. I have never been in a weak, dying church that was full of children. On the contrary, I think the kids keep it vibrant. They keep us vibrant. I was making this point to Rev. Toomire, telling him that I thought it was because our children are our future. He immediately corrected me, saying “they are not just our future, there are important to us in the here and now.” He is right and this was illustrated by Jesus several times in scripture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Indeed, that attitude is reflected in our worship service. Rather than have adults to pass the offering plates, children pass them. In our case, they are baskets rather than plates that look like huge ash trays with a velvet lining as in the church I attended as a child.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">An adult lay person prays about the offering before it is collected. Then, the baskets are handed to the children, who pass them around, collect the money and return them to the adult who lifts them up to Almighty God before placing them on the altar. I recently had the privilege and honor of praying for the offering. Two beautiful young girls walked out into the congregation, and passed the offering baskets. They returned them to me. I smiled and whispered to them what a good job they had done. One little girl looked at me and said, “<i>Look, I got a lot of money in mine</i>! “ She was so excited. That lifted my heart and made me chuckle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked Rev. Toomire, to please pray for my Auburn Tigers. They are having what is turning out to be the worst season that I have witnessed in my lifetime. He looked back at me and replied tongue in cheek, <i>“No amount of prayer is going to help them this year.” </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is sadly beginning to look as if he is right. And with that I will leave you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>______________________________________________________</b></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Reverend Dr. Thomas Lane Butts, Jr. is probably the first pastor that I can recall having as a child at the First United Methodist Church in Brewton, Alabama. I was thrilled to connect with him again recently. He regularly writes a column for a newspaper in Monroeville, Alabama where he serves as Pastor Emeritus of the First United Methodist Church. He very graciously granted me permission to publish this on my blog. I am very honored to pass along these words of wisdom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">WORDS CAN HEAL OR HURT</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the Jewish world into which Jesus was born, words
were very power. A word spoken in Hebrew was more than just an uttered
sound. It was alive with meaning. The Hebrews spoke sparingly. The
Hebrew language has fewer than 10,000 words, whereas Greek has 200,000. The
English language has some 800,000 words and is growing rapidly. What is the
care and intent we give as we use this vast treasure trove of words?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Old Testament is filled with examples of the
power of words. In the creation story in the Book of Genesis, each stage of creation
begins with..."And God said..". God spoke the world into being. In
Genesis 27 there is the story of Isaac being deceived into giving his blessing
to Jacob when he had intended to give it to Esau, the elder son. But once the
word of blessing had been spoken, it could not be retracted, It is clear
that the Old Testament Jew viewed the words with awe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our words both reflect and create our attitudes. The world
of medical science is discovering the power of words and attitudes to heal or
hurt. Most doctors see at least one person each day who has talked himself or
herself into being sick, and will not get well until they change their words
and their attitudes. The will to live is a powerful force that can keep a
person alive beyond normal expectations, and the will <u>not</u> to
live is equally powerful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In his book, "The Healing Heart", Norman Cousins
wrote, "The will to live is not just a frame of mind, but a specific
biochemical force. For all we know, the will to live may be one of the
connecting links between the belief system and the healing system". Your
attitude can make you sick. Your words can kill you, or they can heal you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are people whose words wound others, not because they
consciously intend them to wound, but because they are careless with words,
and/or thoughtless about others. They are so self-centered (narcissistic) that
they never consider what their words will do to someone else. The variations of
this category of person are almost endless, but more often than not these
self-centered people are persons who, for some reason, also consider it theri
duty to offer unsolicited advice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Is it really necessary for us to tell people how wrong they
are and how they can improve? Most unsolicited judgments and criticisms are
given out of a personal need to control and dominate rather than being offered
as a humble concern for others. Unless a person asks your opinion, the critique
you give will be more an anchor than a sail. And if a person does ask your
opinion, be sure your words are carefully selected and offered with the intent
to help another up with a tender hand and soft eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When Ben Franklin was not quite 21 years of age, he was
dissatisfied with his life. He resolved to change and wrote out four
resolutions by which he expected to live the rest of his life. One of those
resolutions was: "<u>I will</u> <u>speak ill of no person whatever,
not even in a matter of truth</u>". Little wonder he made such a
tremendous contribution to the life of this country! Words have the power
to help or hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Be careful what you say, to yourself or others.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<u><b>______________________________________________________________________________________</b></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">329. A cold front on the way to the area. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">330. Connecting with people from long ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">331. Old remedies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">332. Waking up--always waking up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">333. Remembering someone's name and face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">334. Finding treasure in someone's letters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">335. Receiving thank you notes by surprise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">336. Elections-We are blessed to be able to vote.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">337. Passing down information to my sons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-15994475156551173532012-10-16T02:27:00.000-05:002012-10-16T02:27:33.445-05:00Monday Wrapup<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the sun set on Monday, I wondered if you had a good day or a bad one. The beginning of the week is a return to reality for many after an enjoyable weekend. Regardless of how your day went yesterday, read the following story, compare your yesterday to the yesterday of the worker's in this story. If your day was better, feel blessed.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was a manufacturing supervisor for sixteen years give or
take a year or two. As a supervisor on graveyard shift, I learned that there
were two different classes of sleepers. One is the person who is at his
station, trying to keep his job done and inadvertently nods off from
exhaustion. As a supervisor, I would gently wake someone up in this scenario,
and move along. The other class of sleeper was totally different. This class
was formed by people who purposely sleep.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I worked in a foundry in South Alabama, where the days
were long and the work was very hard, I heard a story through the grapevine
about a worker who we will call Fred, caught sleeping by his supervisor, who we will
call Joe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fred wandered away from his work station, pulled off his
overcoat, wadded it up and used it for a pillow on the floor, took off his
steel toed work boots, and put them in front of a fire barrel that was one of
many that had been stationed throughout the plant. He put his noggin on the
pillow, stretched out and began cutting z’s. From the look of the scene, it was
obvious that Fred meant to lay down and take a nap on the company dime. Joe searched
for him all over the plant. Finally, Joe found Fred snuggled up to the fire
barrel dreaming of warmer days in happier places. Joe went and found a safety
pin, wrote a note in his very bad, crooked handwriting, returned and pinned the
note onto the shirt of the worker. Then he walked away. This is what the note
said:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As long as you
are asleep, you still have a job. But when you wake up, YOU ARE FIRED!!!<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not even the Union President could help Fred out of that predicament.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Was your
yesterday better than this? Thought so. Have another good day.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">______________________________________________________</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">319. The fact that I didn't choke and die when I was laughing so hard earlier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">320. Rain the day before yesterday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">321. Achieving a goal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">322. Recovery of a friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">323. God's perfect will is better than anything that we can imagine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">324. A family getting a new car to get them around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">325. Sleeping in on Sunday's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">326.Waking up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">327. Hugs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">328. Cool breezes in the evenings.</span><br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-25708323736652985672012-10-05T03:11:00.001-05:002012-10-05T03:54:31.796-05:00Dancing Priest By: Glynn Young<script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-QkclJ8Fq4pixlqFtlnSI6MxiKfJiRhbPntPWE2nQDlp8jzTI2s8-JdcjwkJx-znsv_74aM1YBuuANU7y9la2teHvFejqy0zO55KJbeiK0tzUI8wi6ZAUnsU1gvxqT-WO2VJidKmuYY/s1600/dancingpriest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-QkclJ8Fq4pixlqFtlnSI6MxiKfJiRhbPntPWE2nQDlp8jzTI2s8-JdcjwkJx-znsv_74aM1YBuuANU7y9la2teHvFejqy0zO55KJbeiK0tzUI8wi6ZAUnsU1gvxqT-WO2VJidKmuYY/s400/dancingpriest.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was a great Christian fictional love story about a
young man who was adopted,Michael Kent, and then grew up to become a priest and Olympic Champion bicyclist.
The story follows the challenges he faced throughout his romantic
relationships. He develops a special relationship with a parishioner who has
lived a difficult life; this relationship causes him to be attacked. I don't want to tell more and spoil the story for anyone who might read later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Young does a remarkable job of character creation, plot
formation and story telling. I found myself getting attached to Michael Kent, and the story, wanting to go back to the book every chance I got to
find out what happened next. Young’s writing style is such that he brings the reader
inside of the story to the point that I felt that I was almost friends with the
characters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He also succeeds in painting a portrait of the human side of
a priest and transforming the stereotypical view of a priest that I had in my
mind. This portrayal helped me to imagine a younger, cooler, priest who can be
a role model and hero to young people in his role.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I loved this book and highly recommend it to any Christian
reader.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=robbinswrites-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&ref=ss_til&asins=0983236356" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">315. Meds for my friend who is suffering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">316. Two good surprises from friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">317. Two positive feedback comments on my writing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">318. Discernment.</span><br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-53408613738769279392012-10-04T06:58:00.000-05:002012-10-04T06:58:04.801-05:00Fair to Middlin'<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whenever someone asks “How are you” I say “Fair to middlin’”
. I had heard it all my life, but I never took the time to think about what it
meant. I always figured that it just meant that I am so-so. That is as good as
I ever admit to being, because if I start saying great, before the day is over,
I am sure something will happen to change that categorization. And anyway,
nobody really wants to know how you are doing if they ask you. They really are
just saying hello. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since I have lived in Texas a lot of people thought I was
saying “Fair to Midland”, as in Midland, Texas. So, I guess by this definition,
I am fair all the way to Midland, Texas, like the weather. So, that is
plausible to me. But again, I never put much brain power into the analysis.
Certainly not enough to argue with anyone about whether I was saying middlin’
or Midland. It didn’t really matter to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One day, while working at Walgreen’s, a customer approached
me and said he overheard me telling someone that I was fair to middlin’. He
chuckled and said that he hadn’t heard that in a long time. (Probably since
Bully was a calf—Bully is the hamburger meat in the freezer; it’s been a long
time since he was a calf.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He asked if I knew what it meant exactly. I chuckled
and said “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He laughed and said that most people didn’t know. He said
that he wanted to share the story with me. He said back in the days of the
covered wagons, and cotton picking by hand, people would fill up their wagons
with the cotton and take it to South Texas to the ports to market. There was a
man on duty who would grade the quality of the cotton, and the farmer would be
paid based on the grade. There were two grades: fair and middlin’. Fair got the
better price. Cotton that was middlin’ would also be bought, but would be
cheaper than the cotton that was fair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All cotton was graded from fair to middlin’. That is where
the saying comes from. So, it is actually not Midland, but middlin’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I smiled and thanked him for sharing the story, and told him
that I had never heard it before. He smiled and said that most people hadn’t,
so he wanted to share it with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, there you have it folks. It is all about cotton. I still
use the phrase anyway because I still am afraid to jinx the day by saying that
I am any better than fair to middlin’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here is hoping that your day is better than fair or middlin’.
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">311. Missionaries</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">312. Holy Communion two times over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">313. Cotton</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">314. Blue Jeans</span></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-78887166880375662082012-10-03T09:09:00.001-05:002012-10-03T09:09:06.920-05:00No Snoring in Church Please<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Edgar Ratcliff had a difficult time staying awake in the
First Baptist Church of Opelika, Alabama, week after week. He was faithful to
attend and carry out his duties as Deacon with honor. Every Sunday, he sat by
his friend Bob, who also was a deacon. At some point in the sermon, Edgar
always fell asleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One Sunday, as the congregation filed through the front
door, shaking the preacher’s hand, (can’t remember the pastor’s name—probably a
good thing) the pastor stopped Edgar and Bob.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He said, “Bob, I need for you to start doing me a favor,
please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“What is it Pastor?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Well, every week, Edgar falls asleep during the sermon. I
want you to start keeping an eye on him and whenever you see him start to nod
off, reach over and nudge him or elbow him to wake him up so that he will quit
falling asleep and be able to hear the whole sermon.” Edgar dropped his head
and began to snicker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Well, Pastor, the way I see it, you are the one who puts
him to sleep. You need to be the one to wake him up.” They all began to laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And with that story about my Grandfather Edgar Ratcliff, I
will leave you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy humpday everybody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">_______________________________________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am Thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">301. Sincere apologies</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">302. Grace and mercy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">303. Children</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">304. Mending fences.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">305. Humpday</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">306. My friend Joyce's beginning recovery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">307. Blessed pumpkins</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">308. Spiders in trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">309. Crafty people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">310. My friend Mike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-74032732598582681692012-10-02T06:02:00.000-05:002012-10-02T06:08:12.262-05:00Blogging one year<div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Usually, a blogger writes about what a wonderful year they
have had in their first year of blogging on their blog anniversary. I missed
mine on April 30, 2012, so let’s count this post as that one year anniversary
blogging post. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Many writers drop out in their first year, because they become
busy with other things in life. Seriously, most of the other bloggers that I
started following over one year ago are no longer blogging. I don’t know the
specific reasons. I would imagine that they run the gamut. Some do a farewell
post, while others seem to just fade away, with a post less and less often
until finally, there is no new post. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have enjoyed my first year and the positive feedback that
I have received. I was always curious when that feedback would get negative, if
ever. Most of the people that I know that have written for any long period of
time have received some negativity; especially book authors. But I haven’t
---not until yesterday, that is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, I received an angry email from an individual who
heard that I had smeared his name. If I would have been him, I would have been
angry too. The story that was related to me that he heard was not the actual
story. At best, it was like the telephone game in which the final statement is
not the one that was originally spoken. At the worst, my blog was reduced to
gossip. SHRIEK!!!!!!! The NERVE of SOME
PEOPLE!!! I say that, somewhat frustrated, and yet somewhat amused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The good news is that someone was talking about my blog.
This means two things: Number one, that while the individual was bad-mouthing
me, he or she was letting someone else rest. Number two, someone is reading what I write. I am not writing in vain. Happiness
abounds!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The better news is that the person to whom the blog was related
came to me and let me know what he had heard. That gave me a chance to respond.
In the end, I challenged him to actually read for himself, which he ultimately
did. He then responded more calmly and constructively.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The best news is that I am seeing visible reactions. People
are being provoked into action. I was comforted when I received a message on my
facebook page asking about the family that was the subject of my recent post,
<a href="http://robbinswrites.blogspot.com/2012/09/one-familys-story.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">One Family’s Story</span></a>. The message was from the head of a local food bank at a
church here in town. She wanted to know if she could bring food to the family,
since they did not have a car. I was able to contact the family, and ask. They
were delighted at the offer and I was able to connect the two. The delivery was
made. The family was blessed in a powerful way. I am so humbled and honored to
have been part of this process. I am honored that someone read, someone cared,
and someone acted. To see tangible action as a result of one’s writings, is the
best honor that can be received. To see people blessing one another is to see
the face of God himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This whole blogging enterprise has been a blessing. Thank
you for reading.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Amen.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am Thankful for</span>:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">287. Connections that bless.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">288. Being part of the body of Christ all over the world, joined in unison with those who have come before and those who will follow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">289. A new month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">290. Anti. biotics.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">291. Paying it forward.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">292. New blogs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">293. Old blogs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">294. In-between aged blogs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">295. People who repeat a story and get it right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">296. Grace-filled friends like Sharon and Michelle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">297. Worn out tennis shoes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">298. Punctuation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">299. Punctuality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">300. The fervent prayers of a righteous man.</span></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-57366404563367714002012-09-28T11:21:00.001-05:002012-09-28T12:00:30.620-05:00One Family's Story<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I love pictures; beautiful, colorful, wonderful pictures that tell a story, help with a story and just make the appearance of my stories overall better looking. But, unfortunately, I don't have a pretty picture for this story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This story is about a family; a set of unemployed parents
sandwiched in between a retired set of parents and two children of their own. I
met this family through one of my children. My son made friends with their son.
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Gordo, at 80+ years old, is the oldest of the clan. He is
retired, grandfather to the young children, and has been suffering from a myriad
of serious illnesses in the past two to three years. He has been hospitalized
numerous times during this period, in which he has suffered from strokes,
seizures, a serious infection, and kidney failure. He receives kidney dialysis
several times a week. I was certain that he would pass away on several
different occasions, only to see him rally, his vitals stabilize, a return to
lucidity, and then be sent home. When I think of these occasions, I think about
what my pastor, Rev. Kyle Toomire has said so many times in sermons: We need to
face the fact that we are not God, and then we need to celebrate that fact and
be glad that we are not the ones who have to make these very difficult
decisions.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the past three months, Gordo was diagnosed with cancer of
the lungs and pancreas. I was sure that was the final straw. He would not last
long. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to last, it is just that he had been
through so much. How much can one body
take? As long as I have known Gordo, he has been sick. There are others who
seemed to lead very healthy lives who have died since I met Gordo. And still he
keeps on keeping on. Then came the cancer diagnosis. And that is when this man,
this very tenacious man, decided that he was going to fight the cancer. See, he
had cancer years ago and beat it. In his mind, it would be just one more
hurdle. And Gordo, well, he is one tough man! So the doctors honored his wishes
and put him on chemotherapy.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Gordo and his wife have three grown children. All of them
have children of their own. One of the children is Missy. Missy and her husband
Tom live with Gordo and his wife. As many people are having to do now, they are
helping each other out. Missy helps to care for Gordo, and his wife and she
works together with Tom to raise their own kids. Gordo and his wife give Missy
and Tom a place to live, and help with the kids.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Missy and Tom have had recent health problems of their own. Missy
was hospitalized with staff infection this summer. She is better, but still has
some relatively minor recurrences. Tom has had these infections as well. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Neither Tom nor Missy are currently working. I am not sure
why. What I am sure of is that they are having a difficult time right now
trying to feed six people on the Social Security income of one person.Their conditions have improved but not
completely resolved.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, things were operating within the status quo, not
going well, mind you, but staying even with the status quo. And the family car
was repossessed, while the grandfather was at dialysis with his wife. He and
his wife had no way home. They called a social worker, who helped them to get a
ride on CARTS, which is a type of low cost transportation system here. Since
then, Missy and Tom have been walking about
four miles round trip in the heat to and from the grocery store to get the
daily bread.(literally). They are receiving food stamps or Lonestar as it is called in Texas, to subsidize their
families meals. Without that, they would have been unable to eat.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few days later, still with no car, and no money, they
needed to get the grandfather back to dialysis. But they had no way to get
there. They tried to call the Social Worker. She was on vacation. So, Gordo did
not receive his dialysis.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Several days later, he was throwing up blood. He now
qualified for an ambulance ride. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital and
put in the critical care unit. Gordo’s wife was having to depend on the
kindness of others to go to the hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Things are really hard for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A pastor friend of mine recently traveled to Uganda to
minister to the people there. She speaks of the extreme poverty. She told me
that some of the women have to walk ten miles with a pot on their heads to get
water. We take water for granted in our country. She said that there are women
who hold their children while they die because they do not have simple
antibiotics like we have in this country or immunizations that would save
lives. Compared to the quality of life of the Ugandans, this family probably is
not too bad off. But my friend also made the point that living in the middle of the affluence in this
country and being in the minority of people having to deal with these kinds of
issues is difficult. It is heart-wrenching at times.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Missy told me that it is hard enough going through this, but
tempers get short because of frustrations and physical discomfort and fears
about what tomorrow will bring. She said that they are having to learn to walk
off when they are frustrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, in the midst of the uncertainty, and physical discomfort
and pain, this family is living their love for one another in spite of the
difficulties. They are setting a tremendous example for their kids about
putting family first, and perseverance in the face of adversity. They are
sticking together, in love, in spite of fear about tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Please pray for Gordo. He is a tough man. Please keep him
and his wife and Missy and Tom and the kids in your prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am glad that my son made friends with their son. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Amen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am Thankful for:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">283. Sickness-For Paul says that we are to be content with whatever our condition is. His grace is sufficient for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">284. My voice on a good day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">285. People who respond quickly to text messages.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">286. Blessings of others in our lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-89728989215422342722012-09-27T00:38:00.001-05:002012-09-27T02:08:25.438-05:00Random Observations<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What follows are random observations from the week; things I
would usually post on Facebook or Twitter. I have saved them, instead, for my
blog. How cool is that?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I currently live within 30 miles
of a major airport as the crow flies, and sometimes, airliners fly really low:
it seems like maybe 100-200 yards above the house. Keep in mind that I am not a
trained observer, so the distance is a little shaky. It is really kinda’ cool
and kinda’ creepy. Also I can pick up the signal of the pilots and tower on a
scanner, and one time, it came through on my computer. That was really funky.
But just as quickly as it started, poof, it just went away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiZ7e0WYcxHs4-9bVR11b-RbUK84vCkcQgMhJISpcCw2KvRqIl5GTVktO5WOuFYM0B-HeIzTssnpy2g30GhpXyyX0VMR_O7SeDYX6_AdILQo4Uzem7oJkGTukltNEM5ri5r2LCu6cKGg/s1600/spaceshuttleinaustin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiZ7e0WYcxHs4-9bVR11b-RbUK84vCkcQgMhJISpcCw2KvRqIl5GTVktO5WOuFYM0B-HeIzTssnpy2g30GhpXyyX0VMR_O7SeDYX6_AdILQo4Uzem7oJkGTukltNEM5ri5r2LCu6cKGg/s640/spaceshuttleinaustin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.199999809265137px; line-height: 11.199999809265137px; text-align: left;">Photo by Alberto Martinez/American-Statesman.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext 1.5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then Sept. 2-, 2012, I saw that many
people posted pictures of the space shuttle making its final fly-over above
Austin, Texas. Seemed to be special pictures.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy
Birthday to my youngest son, Rusty Haag, who turned 12 on Wednesday of last week. This was
also the birthday of one of his football coaches and of a special young lady
named Miranda, who turned 16 Wednesday a week ago....well more or less. Ha! Happy Birthday to you Miranda!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgs9q6-sIl4cc-ihOEN7H5hMrlwO8P-rxVvh0JJYSq3IA15rxue84IKe2ZT36XRM3B96w7-ix6Aq5dKgsj6wkBq4sjwM_HH2akSRRk5k4uuD4q7xdylL27KLuSqQDCnjdSPVkrG3qE7V8/s1600/rustyspecial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgs9q6-sIl4cc-ihOEN7H5hMrlwO8P-rxVvh0JJYSq3IA15rxue84IKe2ZT36XRM3B96w7-ix6Aq5dKgsj6wkBq4sjwM_HH2akSRRk5k4uuD4q7xdylL27KLuSqQDCnjdSPVkrG3qE7V8/s640/rustyspecial.jpg" width="562" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Speaking of my son Rusty, here is an incident that occurred at one of the football games in which he played. This is his first year playing on an organized team. He is still learning all of the </span><span style="font-size: large;">ropes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Mom, one coach says, ‘Run after the man with the ball!’;
the other coach says ‘Play your position and stay in position no matter what!’
I don’t know what to do! I wish they would quit telling me to do different
things! I don’t know what to do!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mom, I was in the game on the line. I looked at the guy
across from me and saw that the guy playing across from me wasn’t wearing his
mouthpiece. He was supposed to be. So I stood up to tell the referee, so that
the other team would get a penalty. I stood up and said ‘Hey Ref!’ and he blew
his whistle and penalized us! And I was wearing my mouthpiece! So then, the
coach pulls me out of the game, and yells at me! “<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I said, “Rusty, did you tell the coach what was wrong and
what you were trying to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He said, “ Yeah, Mom, but you know, he just yelled at me
some more and told me to take a knee. He wouldn’t listen to me!.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked Rusty what he would do the next time that he saw that the player across from him is not wearing his mouthpiece. He said, "I'm going to punch him right in the mouth!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps not politically correct, but maybe a lesson learned.</span><br />
______________________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A friend of mine works as a maintenance person. Her focus is
on repairing things—what we refer to as “fixin’ things” in the South. One of
her co-workers taught her a saying that she says comes in handy not only at
work, but in life in general. Here it is:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">“You can’t fix stupid!”</span><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, there you have it. That does indeed ‘splain a lot.
With that, I will leave you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I am Thankful for:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">279. My friend Kay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">280. gifts.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">281. Being humbled.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">282. safety</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">283. all the special things that we take for granted.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">284. forgiveness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">285. Prayer chains</span></span><br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8210656011646178637.post-73577176227045416212012-09-24T13:34:00.001-05:002012-09-24T13:34:09.295-05:00Stress Relief Suggestion #52<script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the end, we are all terminal. Ask yourself if a particular thing will matter in 100 years. If not, it probably really doesn't matter today. Therefore, do not stress over whatever it is.:)</span><br />
<span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">____________________________________________________</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving Challenge and Joy Dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I am Thankful for:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">279. My friends Jan, Carol and Sheila</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">280. My friends Kim and Rachel</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">281. New glasses to see with</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">282. Reliable transportation</span><br />
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copyright 2012 by Kathy Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer">copyright 2011 by Kathy Robbins</div>Kathy Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249409357488805620noreply@blogger.com0