tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314843262024-03-28T23:29:34.061-04:00Grain, Pain, and Smiling in the RainSandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.comBlogger457125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-61155956679476230842022-02-24T11:59:00.002-05:002022-02-24T17:14:01.680-05:00Stetching the Broken Heart<p> I know I am late to the party. Three months late. So the topic is "stretch". Having MS I should stretch every morning. But I don't. I should drink my hot prune juice. But I don't. At least not every morning. Occasionally, at best. </p><p> Assuredly, I'm not the only human struggling with anxiety and depression. Completing everyday activities is always a stretch when in the cavern of despair. The surroundings of life contribute to my angst, but are not the whole of my pit. A diagnosis of moderate to severe depression is not a life sentence, more like a daily battle within. Invisible to most of those around me, the internal havoc reaches from the hairs on my head, to my twisted old lady toes. I am aware that the folks closest to me, try. Try to reach me with their version of encouraging words. Or frustration over my lack of the ability to pick myself up and just get over it. </p><p>David speaks often in the Psalms about the pangs of despair, doubting even the nearness of his God. Yet he is a man after God's own heart, penning psalms of praise and the greatness of our Lord. Both bring myself the knowledge of His nearness; whether I am in the pit or on the mountain. David, the man who dances in the streets, or grovels in his despair, he is the champion of those of us struggling to live in our disjointed heart.Whether I sense His presence. Or not. He is always near. Tho I fear much and feel alone; I know deep within He lives inside my broken heart. <br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-88687953146175419492021-11-08T20:58:00.002-05:002021-11-09T07:32:59.670-05:00Prayer: Five Minuet Friday<p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> Prayer</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I have not written a word for what seems like a very long time. Bleary days of foggy brain have kept my mind distracted and my fingers still. Several times I have sat down and tried. Tried to write from my heart some words that would bring release. Bound by my own oppression, afraid to reach into the deeper parts of my heart. My soul. I allowed that blackness to silence the wailing within.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">The evil enemy whispering doubt. Fear. Worthlessness. Shame. Rage. Stifled by guilt and hidden even from the eyes of my own heart; seeping here and there in words, attitudes, anger. Circumstances pressing hard. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">And yet, there is always Hope, Hope unseen. Present in the black. The smallest cries, murmurers will be heard by Jesus. Barely more than a moan. He hears a prayer. He is present. I know. Hope peeks out from the mire and utters its Love.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I know. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I will grow stronger. He will lift me from the mire. Courage will rise up. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">And each day will be a bit better.</span></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-64719192972669800572021-09-05T18:43:00.002-04:002021-09-05T20:10:45.657-04:00Five Minute Friday:City<p>Night Life </p><p>Lights </p><p>Excitement </p><p>Energy </p><p>Beauty </p><p>Monuments </p><p>Concerts </p><p>Baseball </p><p>Lost Souls aplenty </p><p>Broken </p><p>Runaways </p><p>Power </p><p>Money </p><p>Crime </p><p>Hatred </p><p>Searchers </p><p>Just like in the country </p><p>We all need Jesus </p><p>Redeem hearts dear Jesus </p><p>May Your Love abound </p><p><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-13130163169946261732021-08-26T11:22:00.006-04:002021-08-26T11:24:00.818-04:00Five Minute Friday: Teach <p> A little late to the table. I am going to try and sneak this in. Yesterday was a day full of lessons. Even tho I prayed for a successful for first day of school for both boys, nagging doubts plagued my day. For the younger my doubts were minimal, mostly what did he have on under his sweatshirt. The older was beginning his ninth grade year in a new school. Different from the one he had attended since kindergarten. He needed the added support that the public school offered. His Christian school provided Godly teachers and curriculum, but did not have the resources required to move him through high school addressing his autism. </p><p>Surprisingly when he came home he was light hearted with a positive attitude. With everyone one but me. He hated it and was NOT going back. I smiled, I had expected his backlash he directed towards me. Inside I rejoiced knowing the day had gone ok. </p><p>The younger came home half good attitude and 100% hungry. God surprised my doubting heart. And I was grateful. </p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-16923205814243464322021-08-16T19:51:00.003-04:002021-08-16T19:57:08.366-04:00Five Minute Friday: Accountability <p> I tend to live a bit of a hermit’s life. It can be cozy, but also quite lonely. Not much accountability either. My personal and spiritual lives suffer from lack of input from others. In reality one should not have a personal life and a spiritual life. One, I, ought to have a life. A life open to service and also inspection. When my thoughts and emotions are known only to myself, they can become distorted. Drifting from the true and concrete to smattering of hazy, unfettered ideas and wrong thinking. If I’m in a hard place and only turn on inward for my consul and comfort, I have nothing to give myself. I it’s imperative that I reach out to friends or family to secure realistic and compassionate support. In return I can pray and seek God honestly. Right thinking is a result of the love and care of others. It is essential I be humble and receive graciously what God has gifted me. </p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-89829928876470340452021-08-02T18:38:00.002-04:002021-08-02T18:44:13.370-04:00Five Minute Friday:Drive<p> Recently I was faced with a significant decisions. My fourteen year old grandson needed some extra support academically. He is functional and autistic. He wanted to play high school football in the worst kind of way. Two options, the first logistically and financially way past challenging. The second, enroll him in public school, taking him out of the school and social setting he has known since kindergarten. He could play football at the local high school and get the IEP he needed to give him the education and life skills necessary for him to be successful post high school. Deeply entrenched in his life long comfort place, he was willing to forgo football and stay where he was. Long and short of it, through prayer and counsel, the will of God became clear. And was there ever a battle. </p><p>But God, gently prodded his young heart. And here I sit. Half and hour from home, committed to driving Kaleb to practice four days a week. The future is never for sure. A step of faith and the driving begins. </p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-64477668176577103122021-08-02T18:01:00.006-04:002021-08-02T18:08:28.496-04:00Strong <p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Joshua 1:9. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Above is one of my cling to verses. Many years back someone spoke those words over me. The hard stuff of life was beating me down. I felt as tho I was the losing one at end of the battle. I was commanded at a time of weakness to be strong. To be courageous. To not be frightened or dismayed. All at a time when my heart was discouraged. Terrified and anything but strong. And yet, God said, you will be; strong, courageous, fearless, emboldened. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">How can it be? “For the Lord God is with you wherever you (I) go!” In fact I was then, as I am today; regardless of how I feel, or think. I am already all the things God commands me to be. Despite circumstances or trials of life. I am because He is. In His weakness I am made strong. </span></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-39255191466625747282021-07-25T22:34:00.005-04:002021-07-25T23:07:02.903-04:00Five Minute Friday: Order<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> Sigh* Yes, order. So I have spent the last half an hour searching for a verse I know is either in Proverbs or Psalms; or somewhere in the Bible. Pretty sure it’s one of those, Psalms or Proverbs. Goes something like, “For where there is order, there is peace.” In my vague memory, the general gist was something like, if your home is in order, tidy, orderly, well managed; then there will be peace in the home. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Order equals peace. </span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">I have a girl, like my daughter, who cleans and brings order into our chaotic home. Beds, laundry. Floors. Lunch or dinner when I can’t. The house will be in perfect order when she is finished. And I will breathe peace Rugs are vacuumed. Clean tablecloth. No dirty dishes or fishing equipment on the counters or dining room table. I like when I come home after she’s worked, I walk in, house smells fresh. I feel at peace. Free to sit outside or take a nap. Rest for my soul. Released from the pressure of doing what was needed, but so challenging for me to accomplish.</span></p><p> I love order, but it is difficult for me in my home, my family, my mind. Maybe if my thoughts were in order, I will have peace of mind. Jesus sends us His peace. And if I am quiet, open to hear and feel His presence I can expect His order and His peace. </p><p>Ok, like the formatting on this disjointed piece. Can’t figure out how to fix it. Not in o</p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-59525816110973891072021-07-12T17:51:00.002-04:002021-07-12T18:52:00.785-04:00Five Minute Friday: Summer <div><b><span style="font-family: arial;"> Psalm 74:17 </span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: arial;">You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth; you have made summer and winter.</span><br /></b><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Seasons. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Spring and fall </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">Summer and winter</span><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">God hems in the earth</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">Sets it’s boundaries </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Each season makes possible </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">The one to follow. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Winter snow enriches the soil </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Allowing glories of spring </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Cleansing rainstorms </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Enrich the fields</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Introducing summer’s production of food and flowers. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">The existence of humans depend on the cycling seasons </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">Autumn paints the hillsides then</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">sheds its exquisit foliage </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Creating a fertile compost to receive the winter’s crystal blanket. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">So it begins again. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-30234970570944392542021-07-07T18:10:00.001-04:002021-07-07T18:10:51.070-04:00Five Minute Friday: Deserve<p> Coming from an extremely Orthodox Church background growing up; we were taught fervently that we deserve nothing. We were completely void of any good and wretchedly sinful. And yet oddly, Galatians was the theme book. I embraced Jesus knowing I needed saving. But it wasn’t really about Jesus the person. The Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He definitely did the saving, yet our sin nature always present, with no hope of debt relieving grace. Hence the conundrum. At least from a young teens perspective </p><p> I remember the end of all my dad’s praying, “Almighty God forgive us for we are wretchedly sinful and unworthy, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.”</p><p>Years later I encountered a nondenominational church whose people used Jesus first name. A lot. I was stunned and taken aback It felt strange to say it. Jesus. Even the third person of the trinity, His name was spoken OUT LOUD! All very strange Holy Spirit. And, I could get saved; in a personal way, by a holy but real person.</p><p>Honestly, I believe I came into “the saving knowledge of faith,” when I was a teenager, but never given tools or teaching on how to walk out the Christian life. </p><p>Now, I understand I do not in anyway deserve salvation. But Jesus, first name; suffered on the cross, died, and rose for my salvation. AND, placed in me a new nature His! Of course sin is still a battle I know the end and who wins. Sanctification is my journey not a destination I. Am. Not still a wretch. I am an heir with Christ. My eternity is assured my soul is set free. </p><p><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-48655517698639847982021-06-25T11:04:00.004-04:002021-06-25T11:21:52.023-04:00Five Minute Friday: Quiet<div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYYjVMCMonSxERMsCWM93WTrVxvYisrG0oBrf0vCwwcaZjKCw8kCbAXzMGtAW_ta4_Z6tKi2H9SB4oC7N3FchK6JGFxGjMYwZLS1ZfLlS6-hARnLeU95qTRm9l7dP3XHnwZrI/s2048/0634265C-E3EA-4277-A447-86DCE7AB2F47.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYYjVMCMonSxERMsCWM93WTrVxvYisrG0oBrf0vCwwcaZjKCw8kCbAXzMGtAW_ta4_Z6tKi2H9SB4oC7N3FchK6JGFxGjMYwZLS1ZfLlS6-hARnLeU95qTRm9l7dP3XHnwZrI/w150-h200/0634265C-E3EA-4277-A447-86DCE7AB2F47.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Today I have been given the gift of quiet, making quiet a most appropriate a prompt. Last evening and most of today I am alone in one of my sweet spots. One grandson is away at youth camp the other home with his Pap. Yesterday Kaleb captured a small green snake. Now he is in his glory. Not my personal source of joy. But I am blessed for him. </p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">As for me, given a day of freedom from the daily pressures of home; and rearing two teenage wildcats, I’m wallowing in the serenity of alone in the quiet. I am allowed the freedom to seek Jesus. It’s been a long meandering crawl to find my way back to His light and life. Depression is a nasty creature. Alas, a story for another day. </p></div><p>Today is my day alone with Him. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-36468966611099707262021-06-17T11:22:00.003-04:002021-06-17T19:33:35.456-04:00Five Minute Friday:disagree <div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Disagree</span> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> I believe the person I disagree with the most; is myself. My mind plays a constant battle with the question, “what should I do next?”</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> I do not regularly set goals. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know it’s important. Difficult to accomplish what I do not plan on doing. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I struggle and have struggled most of my life with depression. Depression is often misunderstood by many. Those closest to us. Even I myself. Hence the battle within. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Some Christians consider it a spiritual problem. It might be. But I know I can’t pray it away. I eat healthy. I get exercise. I have a therapist. I take medication and supplements. I’m am doing my best to be my best. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> One of my biggest enemy is the, “Usta coulds, and the I should be!”</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So there lies the disagreement. Deep in my coursing spirit I am not alone. The confidence I know and yet do not always FEEL is real. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> But no matter. My God is. And will always be both my front and real guard. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> And in there I find rest. </span></div>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-852792102418147382021-06-10T13:06:00.005-04:002021-06-10T20:13:44.484-04:00Five Minute Friday: <p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); color: #555555; font-size: 17.6px;">Proverbs 13:11, </span><a href="http://www.christianbook.com/page/bibles/translations/esv?navcat=Bibles|Translations|ESV" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); color: #555555; font-size: 17.6px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">ESV</a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); color: #555555; font-size: 17.6px;">: "Wealth gained hastily will dwindle, but whoever gathers little by little will increase it."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #555555;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); font-family: Short Stack; font-size: 17.600000381469727px;"> Slowly work towards your goal. The scripture uses the word wealth, however, I believe we can transpose it into anything we value. Could be a sin we are trying to overcome. Or perhaps a strength or gift in our lives we want to pursue, to become more accomplished. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #555555;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); font-family: Short Stack; font-size: 17.600000381469727px;"> I would like to be more cheerful, kinder, more patient. Also, spend more time with my horses, to ride regularly again. To seek fellowship with other Christian women, friends I need and desire in my life. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #555555;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(85, 85, 85); font-family: Short Stack; font-size: 17.600000381469727px;"> I look at all these goals and convince myself they should all be accomplished quickly. Today? Instead of taking the time to slowly work on a few at a time. To rely on the Holy Spirit to lead me and guide me. God does not want be to be burden to myself. To pressure myself into overnight change. When I seek to hurry, rush, I may meet my mark, but it will not endure over time. Little by little I must work to increase my proficiency thereby establishing the destination I chase, and maybe more. </span></span></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-2592868787716095882021-05-28T20:24:00.000-04:002021-05-28T20:24:13.606-04:00Five Minute Friday: Recover<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Recover</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Every day we are hit with a barrage of stress, some lighter. Some heavier. Stress and life's hard stuff cannot be compared. Comparing anything in our lives to someone else's is never a positive approach to our own life or those around us. Jesus gives us each our own trees to climb and mountains to navigate. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> How we recover each day from all we have walked, swam, or maybe climbed over, is both individual and universal. I have my challenges and joys and so do you. Whereas God leads on different paths, the recovery, rejuvenation at the end of the day is the same.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Look to Jesus. Keep our eyes above the troubles in our land. Say that He alone is Good. In Him are the answers to all our trials, the source of all our joys. Seeing how we each travel in our own different strengths and weaknesses; some of us will stumble through, or dance rejoicing, hopefully maybe both. Jesus is our rest and source of restoration, where our recovery happens. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> We cannot live in this world without being tainted in some way by its ignorance of God. At the end of the day tell Him what was hard. Triumphs you experienced, and your deepest yearnings for tomorrow. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Rest. Recover. Remember, He holds the whole world in His hands, as scary as that might seem during these uncertain times. His world. His hands. Rest easy. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes and amen.</span></span></span></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-34337810531329054092021-05-21T23:52:00.001-04:002021-05-22T00:14:50.091-04:00Five Minute Friday: excuse <p> I am a writer. That doesn’t mean I write. Regularly. I know that God has gifted me with the ability to string words and phrases together in an interesting manner. I had a college professor tell me not to say, “I’m a wanna be writer. Or I hope to be one someday.” You either are a writer or your not. A writer has to write regularly. Practice their craft. Be diligent in becoming proficient in the stringing together of interesting, words, weaving them into something that someone would want to read </p><p>I want to be consistently good at what I do. Writing a decent piece brings fulfillment and a sense of accomplishment. And, I’ve used my precious gift </p><p>But yes, I’m full of excuses “I’m tired. I’m not in the mood. I’m dry; I’ve got nothing today.” Without stretching myself pushing through the excuses I will not grow and blossom in writing. I will shrivel and not produce the fruit I desire </p><p>I wouldn’t let excuses like those stop me from doing chores or raising my grandsons. (Well, I might) </p><p> Please hold me accountable Lord. Remind to pursue my passion, and with much gratitude walk in my calling. </p><p><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-76801928291957630702021-05-17T21:54:00.001-04:002021-05-17T21:54:35.557-04:00Five Minure Fridy: Middle<div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Middle </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today we live in turbulent times. The media offers us more questions than answers. Social media is full of discord, division, and dysfunction. Sadly; friends, neighbors, casual and close relationships explode into negative conversations and criticism. As a country we have decided that politicians and scientists are the answer to our problems and responsible for giving us living the lives we desire. </span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jesus lived and walked on this same earth during similar times. Cruel tyrants ruled the lands. Evil and oppressive Pharisees bullied the Hebrew church, using for their own gain the laws God had set in place for them to care and instruct His flocks. The people longed and prayed for a political leader, a king as they believed the old testament had promised them. A super leader who would strike down the Roman Empire and set them free from their bondage. Yearning for a change in governments and earthly king would bring them freedom. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">What they got was Jesus. The son of a carpenter from the measly town of Nazareth, what good could possibly come form Nazareth? Jesus, humble from birth and throughout his life came to give them life, freedom from sin and a pathway to eternal life with the great I AM. Not what they expected or really wanted. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jesus rocked the Hebrew world. And they killed Him.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Two thousand plus years later we live in a world of brokenness, confusion, and dependency on government and our philosophers. Expecting them to provide us with health and the lives we want to live. Our way. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Old Testament prophecies spoke of the Jesus to come. The New Testament, the story of Jesus here on earth, and the fulfillment of His mission. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And now we live in the middle. The in between part. Jesus lived. Died. Left us with the Holy Spirit and the New Testament. And we wait. The written word is complete. We are waiting for His return. In a broken scary world. In the middle. Anxious for his return. But wanting His desired plan to be complete. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We can be fearful. I am sometimes. But like the Hebrews of the Old Testament we have been told to wait. For His return. The Word says no man knows time. Many seek to figure it out. Looking for signs. What I know is the Holy Spirit lives within me. Jesus walks by my side daily. And the Father in heaven holds my life in His hands.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here in the middle I stand. I wait. But I live my life in confidence that the middle is not the end. Jesus will return. The old will be made new. And if will be more than we could ask or imagine. Amen.<br /></span></span></p></div></div>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-55890916484536600182021-05-13T22:04:00.002-04:002021-05-14T22:00:55.859-04:00Five Minute Friday: She <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brio</span></span><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the last few days i have learned a powerful lesson from my mare. A mare is a she in the equine world. It has been said that you tell a gelding but always ask a mare. A mare can have a mind of her own, and she is never afraid to let you know how she feels about a matter. She is quick to use her free will to convince you that the decision is always hers to make. Free will. Her decision. Her way. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So goes the story. Brio, twelve years old. Independent. Basically a compliant personality. She can certainly have her moments. And there have been a few people she just did not care for, and was quick to let them know. In the past for the most part I have been able to remember the rules and let her think that my choices were hers. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The vets were here this week and they shared the information I already knew but was not ready to admit. She is fat. Like obese fat. I had her to a trainer. She lost a few pounds. Fresh spring grass found them for her rather quickly. My good veterinarian offered a solution that had not occurred to me. Though it should have. A grazing muzzle. She had one, hanging in my feed room. She had used it in the past. It limits the amount of feed she can eat and slows down the process. So she eats less. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Good plan. The next day I am running behind. Of course in a hurry. I rush to the barn to let the herd out to pasture for the day. Everyone is kicking their walls. whinnying loudly, impatient to get out to that great green pasture. I grab the muzzle and head into her stall. Brio's stall. Yes. I forgot the golden mare rule. Walking up to her with the apparatus in hand I reach for her head. Yea, she took one look at me and gave me her butt. He big quarter horse rear end. Not to worried, I walked around towards her head. Only her head again became her rear. After a few circles around the stall both of us are getting peeved. Problem is her twelve hundred pounds to my, well somewhat less than that creates a disadvantage for me.. I see the legs attached to that rear end beginning to pick themselves off the floor shavings and point in my direction. Now I am getting unsettled. She is working up to war. Fine! Stay inside today. I throw her a flake of hay and hurry out. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">OK. That didn't work. I knew it. I knew why. Later that day I go back out to the barn. Brio is calmer as am I. Lesson learned. I approach her slowly. Whispering gently and scratching her favorite itches. I walk slowly up her side to her head. Still whispering and rubbing. She knows what I am up to, but is not overly anxious. I gently swing a lead rope over her neck and quietly decrease the slack. She resits some, but I am able to slip the contraption over her muzzle and ears and set the clip. I continue to fuss and love on her as I slip a treat into the nylon cage. Front door is open. She turns her head back, twice for a second look and lopes off the her pals. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in the house I think back over the the two interactions of the day. I am reminded of my free will granted by my Father in heaven. He never forces us to do His will. He asks. He does not tell. He is gentle. Kind. Patient. He acts out of love. I love my silly stubborn Brio, but I must ask her gently, kindly, and she will trust me and do what I ask. God is the same. His loves draws us in, and even if we are not excited, maybe barely willing, His patience and kindness encourages us to trust him and follow His ways.</span></span></span></p><p><a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/G/01/apparel/rcxgs/tile._CB483369110_.gif"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></a></p><p><img alt="Common Horse Grazing Muzzle Problems – GG Equine" class="rg_i Q4LuWd" data-atf="false" data-deferred="1" data-iml="1243" data-index="0" height="180" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" width="180" /> </p><p>grazing muzzle<br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-6365833466585748772021-04-30T17:35:00.002-04:002021-04-30T17:42:37.216-04:00Five Minute Friday Prompt: Remedy <p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> My Husband believes the solution to all minor injuries in Iodine. I do not remember being covered with the ugly red blotches, but do remember the dread. T<span>he crying. Begging my mom to stay away from my already painful injuries, with that wicked red liquid. I was never successful. She did also treat my wound with kind words,</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> gently</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> blowing away the sting. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Now as I age I've become a bit more holistic in my wound treating and general household cleaners, food, lifestyle. In my home I have my husband two young teens we are raising. Iodine is always his first choice. I have salves, oils, some CBD creams, and sprays. While the boys will reach both ways to seek home first aid. DrewAllen, bites his lip or the inside of his mouth, he runs to the bathroom and paints his sore with iodine. If he gets a cut he wants the CBD cream. Deep Blue for muscle aches, (which doubles as husband repellent) he hates the smell. Kaleb, is coming along, he not longer calls my stash witchcraft, and depending on the pain will come over to my dark side, as he describes them<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Different injuries re<span>quire different remedies. Some surgery. Some a kiss and a band-aide. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span>Today's world is filled with broken people. Broken Marriages. Loss of faith and friendships. Great divides. Fear. Worst of all hatred. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span>No matter the wound or the loss, the remedy is still the same.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span>Jesus.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span>The cross is where we find eternal salvation and communion with the Father. Jesus also brings holy remedies, first aid to our fleshly hurts and open wounds. Whether it is the sting of Iodine, healing salve, or a kiss and a band-aid. His presence in our lives today is more than enough to get us to tomorrow. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span>And His red stains paid for it all. </span> </span></span></span><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-60441097969207750732021-04-29T11:44:00.001-04:002021-04-29T11:48:40.104-04:00Lambchops <p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friend.Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was.And they'll continue singing it forever, just becauseThis is the song that never ends…!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The song that never ends will live on in your mind till eternity and beyond. Once hearing it, say hundreds or maybe only a few times, it will never leave you. Your last day in the dementia ward, before crossing into the next world, the words will still be swirling through your conscious and unconscious mind: waiting for someone to sing along.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Raising children has been like that for me. Yes, it's the job, I mean Joy, that never ends. It just goes on and on and on and on. Period. No one really sings along. I mean I wish they would. With a little help we could turn it into a whole musical production. Different parts. Different sets. A stage manager. “Can’t you just see it?”What a production it could be!Unfortunately, the production could not raise enough funding, so today it's just me and my brood. Without getting too up close and personal,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Come and listen to a story about…” Yea that is the Beverly Hillbillies theme song. Lately these ditties keep running through me somewhat depleted gray matter.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> If we count the two grandsons currently residing in my home, and well we kinda must. They live here. I am responsible for their bathing and toothbrushing. Often that is the least of my worries.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “‘Are you dead?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What on earth did he do to you that you thought the baseball bat was a good idea?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I know you didn't actually hit him with it. But, swinging in it in his general direction had us both concerned.” The somewhat loud discussion continues. “And you were screaming, ‘I'm going to kill you’. That threw me off a bit.” I mumbled barely audible. No, not really, more like at a death scream.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Well yes, I agree, afterwards, he did throw a few well-placed jabs. Honestly, you kinda deserved it.” I sigh dejectedly.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Both offended parties retreat to neutral ground. Me, I pour myself a healthy glass of dark red.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> So, I guess the above would be a chapter in the last section of the narrative.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Yet, it is the one I am living now, so the easiest for me to recall and retell.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Not all the stories are quite so violent. We do have laughter and good food. We eat out a lot.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Perhaps being involved in a group of young writers will push me to dig deeper into adventures of the past, wherein lie exciting tales to tell.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Truly there are many joys in parenting. The terrain is rocky, and the paths are steep. God alone gives grace, so that we all may survive. Would I trade my current adventure for another? Please do not ask me twice. Regardless, this is my journey to travel. By Grace alone, we will all flourish and give Glory to the God who kept us all alive.</span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Side note: I joined a writing group that meets once a month. They are the young writers. I’m the old lady in the group. Taught several in homeschooling 20 years ago. </span></p><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-71773230301047704042021-04-23T21:50:00.004-04:002021-04-24T10:47:24.774-04:00Five Minuet Friday: Broken<p> </p><p> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Broken</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> "If it ain't broke, it ain't ours!" One of my husband's frequent quips, he has quite the repertoire. He is famous for his quips and quotes. Mostly, they are funny. This particular one, sometimes. Unfortunately not often. I hear it as we are staring at perhaps, a hole shaped oddly like a baseball, dented into the siding. Perhaps, when we hear the ping of a BB gun, followed by the shattering of glass. Or maybe when we enter a grandson's bedroom and switch on the light, and remain in the darkness. Oddly again, another bedroom light/fan no longer produces light and one fan blade slightly off kilter. Holes in the couch, looking oddly like a small slit from a pocket knife. No back. No batteries in any remote. No problem. A futon bed used as a couch but bent in two. Like in half...extruded. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">You get the picture. Broken. So much of the stuff of life, our house. Yes, our boys, grandsons, been with us since they were babies, can be a bit destructive. they break stuff. Sometimes it seems overwhelming. And costly. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thankfully, we have the Perfect example of how to love and forgive. Ignore sometimes, (mostly because we are not in our thirty's anymore.) See, they are broken. From birth they were rejected, and suffered much in the womb, and in the earliest days of their lives. So we love them because Jesus loves us, and His love empowers us. Even tho it seems we continue to find ways to break His heart. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">These boys are not easy. To raise. To teach. To love. Yes I will admit it they can be hard to love. Yet still they are loved. Because Jesus loved me first. He came to this earth to save us from our brokenness as we often break the stuff of His world. So, If we ain't broke, we ain't His." But we are broken and we are His. And He loves us still. </span></span> <br /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-23957438518739595182021-04-16T21:35:00.003-04:002021-04-16T21:38:16.899-04:00Five Minute Friday: Permission<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"> Permission </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"> By default our lives are constructed in such a way that as adults we know we are not our own. First to Christ. Our families, friends, folks who happen into our lives that we are called to love and serve. All this commands sacrifice. We give time, energy, emotions, maybe even finances. Giving and serving is something as Christians we are commanded to do. So we do. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">But what happens when we have given all we have. We can become exhausted. Cranky. Maybe feeling guilty because we are not doing more. Already giving freely from and empty cup.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Permission. We need to give ourselves permission to rest. To refuel our giving tank, so to speak. Maybe even take some time away. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">A few weeks back, I was exhausted, weary. I knew. Knew, I was not giving the people in my life what they needed and deserved. My tank was depleted. I was all those things mentioned above and more. <i> </i>I found myself opening a flight app on my <b>smarter than me phone</b>, and looking up flights to Florida. Crazy, I could just pack and fly south by 2:00 pm! </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">But that is exactly what I did. It was bold. Moms and wives do not just up and go away. I did. I realize we do not all have that luxury to flyaway to someplace warm for five days. I am grateful for the means to secure that kind of escape. I had been given permission. I believe by God. He needs us at our best. The more difficult permission came from myself. I had to be brave enough to let go, and do what I needed. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">If, or rather when, you find yourself needing self care. Do not hesitate. God has already given the go ahead. Give yourself permission. And Go. Or do. Get that pedicure. Find a place to retreat and refuel. Meet someone for lunch for no reason. I believe one of the most difficult ways we must give, is to ourselves. Jesus retreated to pray. To be alone. To rest. You have His permission to take care of you.</span></span><br /></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-59471485247365122142021-04-10T13:48:00.005-04:002021-04-11T11:11:52.122-04:00Five Minute Friday: pressure <p> Avoiding self inflicted pressure to do more and be more is a new project of mine. I came to realize that my plate was overflowing, spilling to the floor, sometimes the more important stuff. More than my plate could hold. All of us have been given different sized plates lest we compare and condemn ourselves and others. I’m working on building an escape route from condemnation. Self disappointment. I want to avoid placing a pressure on myself to do an be more than I am able or am called to do. I am determined to seek what God would have me accomplish. And next. Breath in. Breath out and relax a bit. </p><p>In this hurry scurry world we live in, the pressure to do more and accomplish much had become a burden. For me anyways. A self adopted burden that is not God’s best for me. For us. Yes, He calls us to do a full day’s work. To serve others. But then he calls us to rest. To reflect. Spend time with Him. Our families. </p><p> God did not create the whole world in one day. I mean He could of. He’s God. He broke it into six days. Each with its particular assignment. And we know on the seventh he rested. He commands us to do the same. </p><p>God is kind and patient with us. I believe we should do the same. Be kind and patient with ourselves. </p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-2188682588898611742021-04-08T12:11:00.001-04:002021-04-08T12:19:06.893-04:00Gentle<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MmgZd_fJYpJtlq_Y1TV_yzaCY3xNS6U9THbLqOJm9Bx-26QguccR6a7_CVf7WIYmIHjSJbhU-VPg2qJp7EZJWhDetoc6TMy8OIbrT3nE_SjPtIORZlAINzipw6OptS1ImpQU/s2048/500F31E6-6405-440F-9F45-52DF4685926D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MmgZd_fJYpJtlq_Y1TV_yzaCY3xNS6U9THbLqOJm9Bx-26QguccR6a7_CVf7WIYmIHjSJbhU-VPg2qJp7EZJWhDetoc6TMy8OIbrT3nE_SjPtIORZlAINzipw6OptS1ImpQU/s320/500F31E6-6405-440F-9F45-52DF4685926D.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Ephesians 4:2</div><div>[2] with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,</div><div>Jesus tells us we are to treat others, our neighbor, our spouse as we would treat ourselves. </div><div>Seems direct enough. </div><div>How many of us treat ourselves as we would treat others. </div><div>Are we gentle on ourselves? </div><div>God assumed such, if we want to be kind and patient. </div><div>Gentle. </div><div>With others. </div><div>Do we? </div><div>Treat ourselves gently?</div><div>Or, do we expect much of us. Do we hold ourselves to a higher standard? If you will. </div><div>We push ourselves. </div><div>We lay out the list, and darn well better complete it!</div><div>Make commitments we can barely meet. We want to be servants. God says we are to be. </div><div>Be gentle with yourself. As Jesus is gentle with us. </div><div><br /></div>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-34317601129785690732021-04-01T22:44:00.005-04:002021-04-01T23:06:49.632-04:00The sabbatical When I got to the place where my recliner and my pillow were my best and only friends, at least in my own muddled, scrambled gray matter. Coherent thinking had departed weeks ago. I became convinced something had to change. Desperation and depression were closing in. Soon I would be more unstable. More than I already was. <div> Sitting in church, proud I had showered, drove alone and gotten inside the building. Pressing in on. my spirit was the notion that I should maybe get of Dodge. Well, at least out from under the weight of self and life inflicted despair, fatigue, where was God anyway hopelessness. So heavy was the oppression, deciding what socks to wear was to much work. </div><div> So why write all of it in my blog? Well where else I guess. </div><div> I did two things that day in church, well not counting talking to a friend in the bathroom, I made a flight reservation for Florida, and completed a online grocery order to be picked up on the way home. And i don’t think I can, multitask. Smh... I called my husband on the way home asking him to make sure the boys would be ready to carry in the groceries. And call and see if I can get into our Florida condo. Tonight. </div><div> A small fleece I had laid out. If I cannot get in the condo it will be a sign I had not heard God and he would provide another road to my healing. Not true, exactly. I knew it meant now wasn’t the right time for Florida. Beyond that; there were no thoughts. I received the go ahead. And I did. Go ahead. Packed a quick small. Tiny. Bag. Passed out hugs. And left. I drove myself to the airport. Parked my truck and almost ran to the ladies room. </div><div> Already I had accomplished much. All on my own I took the initiative to make some some changes in my life. I was excited and a bit frightened at the same time. As I do not want this writing, the telling of my story, to turn into a novel, I need to decide what details to include. </div><div> Landing in Orlando the warm air held me close. I had arrived. What would I take home?</div><div><br /></div><div> Always in the back of my mind, nagging. Would I do enough. Would I pray enough. Would I exercise. Would I write enough. Would I would I relax. Rest. Would I go home better. Better than when I had left? </div><div>Would I be enough? I had set high standards for myself. Do not waste this precious time. Use every minute. To be better. To be enough to show others, but mostly myself, I had done well with my time. The parable of the talents raking through my broken mind. Pushing. </div><div> Truth be told, also a song (Matthew West) I cling to, convincing myself I am not alone in this battle. For sanity. For KNOWING Jesus as my savior. Sensing his presence in my life. My day to day. Guess what, the day to day is where it matters. Believe it or not, that’s what I found. </div><div> Every morning I woke up. Drank coffee. And Tuesday after I ventured inside a grocery store. Alone I could eat breakfast on the patio. Something I haven’t done in a couple years, gone inside a grocery or other large store. Big step. Bought food. More than I maybe needed. </div><div> Locked myself out of my room. Twice. First time, no shoes. No phone. Barefoot staring at the locked door. I could have panicked. I did not. Again a God thing. Deciding if I should walk to the front desk. No shoes. No mask. The sweetest woman was putting her trash in the bin. Half mumbling to myself and her; I share my situation. Here, she says take mine. Take what? Her shoes. Her shoes? Really. So humbled I thanked her and headed to the desk. Shoes a symbol God often uses throughout the Bible. I am wearing, walking in another women’s shoes. If I could have without tripping I would have skipped to the front desk. Of course I returned them. The shoes. But see, He showed up in the small stuff of my journey. </div><div> Over and over I had the opportunity to revert to panic or despair over the little stuff. Not finding a chair at the pool. Did something else. Ordered lunch. Made an appointment for a pedicure. Ate. Ordered an Uber. Aloe Vera leg massage. Yes. It was amazing. I then WALKED to the grocery store. I. Even went in. Of course I already talked about that adventure. I had turned disappointment into an adventure. </div><div> Of course I will never be enough. But He is. Enough. And then some. Instead of despairing, I did something else. Following His leading I got nice nails and avocados. These are the lessons I want to take home. Sandy, if you can make it through the little, what does the Word say, well sort of, I will make it through the bigger. Don’t despair. Do something else. And that was only full day two. Here I sit full day four. Still haven’t told of my new friend from Michigan. I met her at the other pool, where there were enough chairs. And ducks. Yea. In the pool. They wandered in. Took a short swim and paddled back to their muddy pond. Who could imagine. What an adventure. </div><div> Riding in the helicopter, and that was today I guess. I made another new friend. Spending time with a stranger who became dear to me. All I know is her name. Debra. We shared an adventure. And that was enough. Enough. May always see the enough in the everyday. </div><div>Yes. I prayed. </div><div>I listened to Christian music and sang along. Worshiping. </div><div>I drank water. I did lose track of that. But enough. </div><div>So instead of seeing all of life as too much. </div><div>I now know it is enough. </div><div>And so am I. </div><div> And hopefully. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get to day three and four. </div><div>Enough for now. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31484326.post-6522818931313484512021-03-29T20:17:00.001-04:002021-03-29T20:17:50.475-04:00Five Minute Friday: Savor <p> <span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Right now at this moment I’m savoring the amazing gift the Lord has given me. Sitting relaxing in one of my favorite places. My heart @nd mind had drifted away from my confidence and true living faith in out gear Jesus. Life. Depression. Anxiety. Family strife. All had taken their toll on my emotional and physical health are headed on a bad place. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">God was far away. My prayers empty Whispered to empty dark air. Plugging away I expected things would get better. You know....by a faith I do not possess. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">After a particularly difficult week; I was hopeless. Curled n the fetal position hugging a pillow hopeless. Still, I stood up. Showered. Went to church. Alone. As it has become that lately. Something I had been considering all week presses harsh into my heart. I needed a sabbatical. Alone time. To concentrate on the Lord. Pray. Rest. Relax. Seek His face. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">Sitting as Joe spoke inspiring words to many I’m sure, i opened my phone searched flights from a nearby airport. I could fly out today, well. yesterday now. I made the reservation right there. Not knowing if I had a place to stay. Savoring the notion I could be someplace warm by evening. And alone. I knew I had taken a bold step of faith. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">We own several places in Florida. I knew at least two we’re occupied. My husband phoned. Several times until he was able to find someone who could authorize our condo was open. Already there, are the things I cannot take on a plane. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Hurried home. Stuffed some food down my throat. Packed a quick little under the seat bag. Gave hugs and left. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Very brave. Independent, not the weak and hopeless shadow of the me I had become. Now I sit on the balcony, equipped with a plan (a friends idea) not mine. I was to jello brained to think. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"> Have prayed, worshipped, sought my savior. With plan and purpose I know I am already looking up. Not inside at my empty shell </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;">Savoring. Yes savoring my savior. The warm air. </span><span style="font-family: "Short Stack";">sunshine. Quiet me and You God. Alone. But not alone. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Short Stack;"><br /></span></p>Sandy kimmelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03501892960067116266noreply@blogger.com0