tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17652628568408522932024-02-06T23:51:57.374-05:00Lori FloridaWhat if your dreams are possible? Borrow my confidence in you until you find your own.Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-14093834124039679202022-04-29T08:57:00.004-04:002022-04-29T08:57:36.902-04:00The Best Gift a Mother Can Give - The Glorious Table<p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">The wind blew as we gathered around the graveside, and I watched this large, beautiful family say goodbye to their beloved grandmother. There was sadness and there were tears, but the most striking thing was the togetherness laced in, around, and among every emotion and experience of the day. Watching this family, buoyed by their togetherness, prompted a light bulb moment and sent my mind traveling back to my first wrestling match with a big <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2017/08/beat-mom-fears/" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7d947d; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;" target="_blank">mom fear</a>.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">“How can I possibly love my second baby as much as my first?”</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">“Is there enough of me for both of them?”</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">“Will having another baby rob the ones I already have of what they deserve?”</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">I had heard it said that the best gift you can give your child is a sibling. My oldest was only nine months old when I found out number two was going to join our family sooner than my master plan called for. I felt I was just beginning to get my “mom sea legs” and being a mom to two was a bigger challenge than I could get my head around. Everything felt like too much. Two in diapers—too much. Two schedules—too much. Two car seats, doctor appointments, piles of laundry—too much. Two little minds and hearts depending on me to help them grow up strong and healthy, two sets of eyes looking at me for how to see the world—way too much.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">I wanted more than anything to feel only excited anticipation for this new little life. After all, we always planned to have more children; the only surprise was how soon <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">more</em> became our reality. Why the cold pit of fear in my chest? And more importantly, how could I make it go away?</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">The fear came from my age-old Achilles heel: living as if everything depends on me. As I had done before, I was importing my old way of living into this new area of my life. My default is to expect God to be transactional. I obey. He rewards. He gives mercy and power, but only when I deserve it somehow. If you asked me if this is how God works I would reply with an emphatic “no.” I <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">know</em> he’s not at all like that. My head understands and believes what the Bible says about grace.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCMGloodkqRzDP6Ou8bllr8D_pRTO9iuTCCq1SztPeocljxMnYlbQV8iql3rRu5wE_-ZA6CCTXQbvfL9E4r2bb5Hrb1TcLoqSKQBMNH_TqUhtS34BA5aqziv9f2vFe8dDHtjt9W7yVfgnyw2uWL6PacRXH6olIhbSP1NN9Cu-tLJEq-JiAfKqTI0C/s1200/gift-mother.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCMGloodkqRzDP6Ou8bllr8D_pRTO9iuTCCq1SztPeocljxMnYlbQV8iql3rRu5wE_-ZA6CCTXQbvfL9E4r2bb5Hrb1TcLoqSKQBMNH_TqUhtS34BA5aqziv9f2vFe8dDHtjt9W7yVfgnyw2uWL6PacRXH6olIhbSP1NN9Cu-tLJEq-JiAfKqTI0C/s320/gift-mother.webp" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px;">My head believes, but my fear and stressed-out mood give me away. They tell a deeper truth about how little I expect grace to actually be available for me. They hold up a mirror to the unreasonable expectations I have for myself—expectations God doesn’t even have for me.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px;">Head over to <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2022/04/the-best-gift-a-mother-can-give/">The Glorious Table HERE</a> to read the rest. The Lord taught me lessons that calmed my fears and taught me to see the gifts he was giving me and my children in each other! I want to share them with you!</span></div><br /><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></p></form>
<br /><p><br /><img align="left" src="http://i1235.photobucket.com/albums/ff426/lorilflorida/Lorisignature.png" style="border: 0px;" /><br /></p><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-13741184625425192312021-08-03T17:29:00.001-04:002021-08-03T17:29:18.901-04:00It's About Who We Are, Not What We Do - The Glorious Table<p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">Living just four blocks down the street from my best friend made it easy to share clothes, secrets, and families. We could be found within a close radius of her backyard pool most summer days. The rhythm of our summer days revolved around Gretchen’s dad’s third-shift work schedule. During the morning hours, the house needed to stay dark and quiet, so we picked peppermint leaves to chew, painted our nails, and read books. Not long after lunchtime, Mr. Liddell would wake up, which paved the way for our favorite summer activity: synchronized swimming routines.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">We practiced and laughed until we felt ready for an audience. Gretchen’s dad always stopped mid-project to be amazed by our mildly in sync pool programs. He clapped and went back to work while we kept playing. His presence was as steady as the summer sun. He wasn’t merely my friend’s dad; he was a comfortable, expected constant in my life.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhfnCL7WS9ioI4jBVA7BNaEpVUk6cbdOznKqEn2NV4UHh6hazcH2mXvbel54iniDw4Yllcd-jPmTYvyZsYQrPwgwDIV-WnttjYASA5S3_2kW4b-fipJzi5rXD45rX4SBkFFKvXaNW_Ao/s1200/who-we-are.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhfnCL7WS9ioI4jBVA7BNaEpVUk6cbdOznKqEn2NV4UHh6hazcH2mXvbel54iniDw4Yllcd-jPmTYvyZsYQrPwgwDIV-WnttjYASA5S3_2kW4b-fipJzi5rXD45rX4SBkFFKvXaNW_Ao/w640-h336/who-we-are.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">The familiarity born by all those shared moments made his cancer diagnosis particularly awful for me. I was desperate to be as real a best friend in the halls of the hospital as I had been poolside for my friend who was losing her dad. My seventeen-year-old self struggled to accomplish that while bearing the weight of my own goodbye to the man who felt like a second father to me.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">My mom saw cracks forming in me and called in the support of my beloved youth pastor, who now lived hours away. He spoke words that enabled me to square my shoulders and breathe new life into my spirit...</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">Please join me at <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2021/08/devotional-its-about-who-we-are-not-what-we-do/" target="_blank">The Glorious Table</a> to read to the end - these words have the power to breathe new life into you too!</p></div><br /><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></p></form>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-76703612753003026852021-03-17T10:13:00.003-04:002021-08-03T17:29:40.013-04:00How to Be OK When You’re in a Funk - The Glorious Table<header class="entry-header" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: ABeeZee; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><p class="entry-meta" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: ABeeZee, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p></header><div class="entry-content" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">My favorite jeans are starting to cut into my waist in an uncomfortable way. The grocery order keeps getting delayed when we’re already out of milk. The dog has gotten into the trash again. My kids carry individual sadnesses I can’t fix for them. It’s rainy and cold. My hip aches at night sometimes. People I thought were dependable turn out not to be. I’ve turned out to be not as dependable as I thought I was. My dad is sick. I suddenly need reading glasses for the fine print.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">It’s impossible to predict which of these disappointments will have the power to push me into a full-on funk. I have days that feel so full of hope and possibility that I have the juice to face the big stuff with faith and trust. Other days start out already negative, so even good things feel bad. Funks and feelings don’t submit to the scientific method. They often multiply uncertainties and disappointments until the weight of dark clouds feels too heavy for my one set of shoulders to bear.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBIaSVovAt_x8bVq27zYWaGKHo9KL2W-5HLvBH6QIkwaohKT_EBc_hQLk6kG_uABA9tElQOwXEHeztYgxtagX9EiF49hTwn9T4ed2GVn2Bj1dkgMzIwwbWOBiu5jQe8wAkEAyY8Z6va4/s1200/okay-in-funk.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBIaSVovAt_x8bVq27zYWaGKHo9KL2W-5HLvBH6QIkwaohKT_EBc_hQLk6kG_uABA9tElQOwXEHeztYgxtagX9EiF49hTwn9T4ed2GVn2Bj1dkgMzIwwbWOBiu5jQe8wAkEAyY8Z6va4/w640-h336/okay-in-funk.png" width="640" /></a></div><p></p></div><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">I have a feeling that the past twelve months have found even those of us with the sunniest dispositions in a funk or two that surprised us. Others of us dip into Funkland on a regular basis. What do you tell a friend who is struggling and can’t shake the dark clouds? What do you tell yourself when life just hurts? You can only go back to what you know. For me, that’s always been enough.</p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: ABeeZee; font-size: 24px; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: 0.5px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px 0px 30px;">Truths that are rising to the top today:</h2><ul style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px 40px; padding: 0px;"><li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">I know fruit grows out of suffering and makes me a better version of myself. There is something on the other side of this trial I don’t want to miss and a new version of me I can’t afford to not become. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/quicksearch/?quicksearch=trials&version=ESV" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7d947d; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;" target="_blank">James 1:2-4</a> says, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (ESV).</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">I’ve survived 100 percent of my hard days so far. My track record is pretty good and helps me believe I can trust myself to be able to figure out tomorrow’s challenges when they come.</li></ul><div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant;"><span style="font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><b>Join me at <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2021/03/devotional-how-to-be-ok-when-youre-in-a-funk/" target="_blank">The Glorious Table</a> today to read the rest of the "How to be OK in Funkland" list!</b></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Cormorant;"><span style="font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></p></form>
<br /><p><br /><img align="left" src="http://i1235.photobucket.com/albums/ff426/lorilflorida/Lorisignature.png" style="border: 0px;" /><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvYu9LYSGqDLbB-yONVlfIyBLxlUFVv2CGpKJSeNrnWjmHgQ5Mkb1MUrEIm6XvlIOsu8tPvoCjnQvrJBMYjnpwfhBqApZV4XVLbxjjqrobCjFDkemIRVB-F1fd40rceLKl5iJ6wBvFMA/s1200/okay-in-funk.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-80639611491843933332020-07-06T10:00:00.002-04:002020-07-06T10:03:24.619-04:00What You Need, When You Need It - The Glorious Table<p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">We ate steak at the fanciest place in town, me and my sister, our husbands, and our parents. Around the table, we joined Mom’s reminiscing. We retold our favorite stories of family vacations and holidays. We revealed some silly childhood secrets. And we listened to Mom’s stories from fifty years she and Dad spent together. One of our favorite stories is of the birthday Mom expected a diamond ring but went home from their swanky dinner with a shiny new set of hot rollers. Whenever Mom tells that story, instead of making fun of Dad for his slow-moving ways, she praises his serious, methodical decision making. She points to it as proof of his dependability.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">My mom told stories. I told stories. My sister told stories. Even our husbands had memories to share. We retold some of the stories Dad put on paper in his journal for us. The thing we missed most was Dad’s voice in the storytelling.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">Rather than telling the stories himself, he locked eyes on the teller and responded, “By golly, that happened to you too? Isn’t that something?!” He enjoyed <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">his</em> stories told in <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">our</em> voices. Alzheimer’s had robbed him of being able to remember they were his.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkYL_2EpOKHVinXdZiCXUxaiIJiEu7kDZIaM6RBmlMLVAkIhf50LYbqJwuHk4CinJbQhw9maKsX12ZaxGcRR5RjiFRcGGoBp5oxZlDAWf72rDNwV6LJ2vPZUz9fU-bj09UXyookxqdYo/s960/FB_IMG_1579606467216.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkYL_2EpOKHVinXdZiCXUxaiIJiEu7kDZIaM6RBmlMLVAkIhf50LYbqJwuHk4CinJbQhw9maKsX12ZaxGcRR5RjiFRcGGoBp5oxZlDAWf72rDNwV6LJ2vPZUz9fU-bj09UXyookxqdYo/s320/FB_IMG_1579606467216.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(PC: Kathy Merrifield)</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">My mom is Dad’s main <a href="https://www.alz.org/help-support/caregiving" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7d947d; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;" target="_blank">caregiver</a>. She’s been faithfully caring for his soul along with his body. She chose an expensive steak dinner for their golden anniversary celebration because my dad still loves steak. She made a reservation for the six of us early in the evening when the restaurant would be empty and quiet. She called ahead to make the maître d’ and waitstaff aware of my dad’s extra needs. Every detail of the night was geared toward capturing any enjoyment still available to my dad.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;">Please click over to <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2020/07/devotional-what-you-need-when-you-need-it/">The Glorious Table</a> to read the rest of the story and let my mom's story help you trust God's faithfulness for your story.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB72gNOZKo77VFBkaERfTtjKGwMqddl0MAH-JYdbEtKljE5HjbnYpk9pFup7TiAlPSSuSVg8TBIiQcItxJGuUghY4s2YIqPFyoc0-sCP0Cinh_WNyTGixVJnhiH_BmAM62gueIj1SmWcg/s960/FB_IMG_1579606460106.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB72gNOZKo77VFBkaERfTtjKGwMqddl0MAH-JYdbEtKljE5HjbnYpk9pFup7TiAlPSSuSVg8TBIiQcItxJGuUghY4s2YIqPFyoc0-sCP0Cinh_WNyTGixVJnhiH_BmAM62gueIj1SmWcg/w320-h240/FB_IMG_1579606460106.jpg" title=""You can't be serious! We've been married 50 years?!"" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You can't be serious, we've been married 50 years?!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnoXYBIYc6onA06oBQJYIhxQf8ZTt5vTsCsMieKKSTiCdn4C2P6T7SYyoZ1RqCNIAVsRlRYz01yFncWkDfUHCo2pvbdyY1zK0amaVU94JnRndpMmVwZ4waXP3FPv5BUBwGpM-7hxtx_Y/s960/FB_IMG_1579606463938.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt=""Well, that's wonderful!"" border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnoXYBIYc6onA06oBQJYIhxQf8ZTt5vTsCsMieKKSTiCdn4C2P6T7SYyoZ1RqCNIAVsRlRYz01yFncWkDfUHCo2pvbdyY1zK0amaVU94JnRndpMmVwZ4waXP3FPv5BUBwGpM-7hxtx_Y/w320-h240/FB_IMG_1579606463938.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Well, that's just wonderful!"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin: 0px 0px 28px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><br /><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.goog<br/><br/>le.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="" /><input type="submit" value="" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></p></form>
Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-67275767354123322342020-06-03T17:45:00.002-04:002020-06-03T17:47:14.178-04:00Fear - You're Not the Boss of Me Anymore! - Part 2<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-0c286fb2-7fff-2a51-e4a4-cecb025f9993" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><font face="georgia"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad’s soul left for heaven four months, one day, and about fourteen hours ago and I haven’t dissolved into a pile of nothing yet. I’m more okay than my fear ever let me think was possible. I’ve weathered the scariest thing in my life and imagination better than I expected to because of the “</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lesson Learned</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” God is teaching me right now.</span></font></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Lesson Learned: The security you found in your dad’s opinion of you was an important part of God’s plan, but not all of God’s plan. The things your dad gave you were a downpayment on the things God, your good Father is giving you now. Your dad carefully stewarded your self-worth and in ways invisible to you, has been carefully handing the baton back to God. More of how you see yourself is currently resting in how God sees you than you realized. This is why you are okay.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">God used one of my favorite Psalms to spell this out for me. God’s voice has been especially loud during miscarriages, disappointments, and fears through Psalm 103. I love that he brought me back to this Psalm to quiet my biggest panic moment.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugLU5IWcj-WSwc2twZWkbnSj6NDWrRS-WEzXJs7WYgmv7zyqgYcy1Dt20HB3j1OIUA9Xd0l_UVCEmmSPOZDjEg32OMNlRyxfVCCwdEdNwciOL2wXQHEk670MoZwiUoFH-RyiOwWWRbVY/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="444" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugLU5IWcj-WSwc2twZWkbnSj6NDWrRS-WEzXJs7WYgmv7zyqgYcy1Dt20HB3j1OIUA9Xd0l_UVCEmmSPOZDjEg32OMNlRyxfVCCwdEdNwciOL2wXQHEk670MoZwiUoFH-RyiOwWWRbVY/w320-h288/FB_IMG_1551756711542.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">As I brushed my teeth in the adjoining bathroom, I listened to Scott read these familiar words out loud to my sleeping dad. They were familiar but got my attention in a mercifully new way because he read them in different translation than my usual. I hope you read the Psalm in its entirety, but for now, listen to the specific words that calmed my fear.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">“As high as heaven is over the earth,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">so strong is his love to those who fear him.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">And as far as sunrise is from sunset,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">he has separated us from our sins.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">As parents feel for their children,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">God feels for those who fear him.”</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Ps. 103:11-13 MSG</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">The love and security I gained from my dad, weren’t evidence of me trusting Dad more than God, they were my first baby steps toward trusting God himself. They were part of how I learned to trust God and see my worth in how he sees me. God’s plan is for earthly fathers to image him as our heavenly father. The way my dad did that for me was a rare gift. God has never been bothered by how much I’ve learned to see myself in my Dad’s eyes, it was part of his plan for me.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">“He knows us inside and out,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">keeps in mind that we’re made of mud.”</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Ps. 103:14 MSG</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">God hasn’t been surprised at all with the wrestling of my heart. In fact, he probably expected it because he never forgets how frail I am and never forgets to provide for my frailties.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">“Men and women don’t live very long;</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">like wildflowers they spring up and blossom,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">But a storm snuffs them out just as quickly,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Leaving nothing to show they were here.”</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Ps. 103:15-16 MSG</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">God knew better than I did that I wouldn’t have my dad physically present in my life forever. He’s been planning for me to be okay since death first entered the g</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Garden of Eden. This thing I’ve been allowing to bind me with nebulous tendrils of fear, was solved long ago by my heavenly Father.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><font face="georgia"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">God’s love, though, is ever and always,</span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Eternally present to all who fear him,</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Making everything right for them and their children</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">As they follow his Covenant ways</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><font face="georgia"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And remember to do whatever he said.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">”</span></font></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Ps. 103:17-18 MSG</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">This is the reason I felt more grounded and settled watching my dad leave this earth than I ever dreamed possible. These verses pulled back the veil of my fears and let me see how my Dad and God had linked arms to make me ready to face this very moment. Dad hadn’t just been telling his little girl how valuable she was. He had been telling me how valuable God thinks I am. He spent his life teaching me to trust him and how to transfer that trust onto an eternal God who is the source of everything he had to give me.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0a3lXtQAgabYyH2EWVYSGi2TMW44a13XdqT3xO1rKUTYZUSvipXzy09YTJ0U0syBbju905zYzkv6NIajMMLK9jOKFlPz7QOFcWW-4Z_uzKHmE5EGF9yWXDTM-AmTiu3q2MG_n05Y_bA/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="3412" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0a3lXtQAgabYyH2EWVYSGi2TMW44a13XdqT3xO1rKUTYZUSvipXzy09YTJ0U0syBbju905zYzkv6NIajMMLK9jOKFlPz7QOFcWW-4Z_uzKHmE5EGF9yWXDTM-AmTiu3q2MG_n05Y_bA/w400-h225/3AA9FF8B-29EC-4E1B-AFC2-F96AD3DEFD5F.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">So here I am, four months, one day, and about fourteen hours after I faced the biggest fear of my life head-on. I’m not a puddle shaking on the ground. I’m not consumed by sadness and unable to get out of bed. I’m not even crying every day. I’ve laughed a lot these past four months. I’ve smiled and felt a warm glow inside when I’ve encountered pictures or memories of my Dad. I’ve actually felt grounded. The exact opposite of the untethered feeling my fear told me to expect. Psalm 103 cleared the fog and showed me work that had been happening in secret all along the way.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">It’s easy to look back and wish I could get back some of the moments I surrendered to fear. They seem wasted and foolish from this vantage point. Instead of regretting, I’m choosing to respect the process. The truth is, I’m very happy with the destination this path led me to. I’ve learned God’s call isn’t only to a destination but also includes in step along the path it takes to get there. So, I’m looking back with clearer eyes but choosing to cherish the steps my story needed to find this precious destination.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-L627vQVLQEqhL_4cg52DYTfYLhz21GOg-UUCmFXMxVJXeIGf7Tis05jnR1DxrvQbWhpIvijmVqCyX3okjYxDUDiuhwp4m5xK5xR2uHB1F656z-8DOFO4LoCxKVU4voGowsWLfDT-Ho/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-L627vQVLQEqhL_4cg52DYTfYLhz21GOg-UUCmFXMxVJXeIGf7Tis05jnR1DxrvQbWhpIvijmVqCyX3okjYxDUDiuhwp4m5xK5xR2uHB1F656z-8DOFO4LoCxKVU4voGowsWLfDT-Ho/w300-h400/20190813_140516.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Maybe my story can help someone else see a short cut past some of the more meandering portions of the path from fear to settled. That would be cool. But the coolest thing would be for my story to inspire hope in another person’s heart and suggest your fear is not telling you the whole truth. I also hope you hear me say you are stronger than you feel. Strength is often about just putting one foot in front of the other with your heart beating out of your chest before you can see the answers you need. You have to keep on living while you wait for the fog to clear. You have to keep on walking in order to get to the destination at the end of the path with a vantage point that allows you to look back and make sense of it all.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">What fear has its hooks deep into you? What thing are you trying to keep in the peripheral vision of your consciousness because you’re afraid to look at it head-on? What are you worried you can’t live through? Admitting it does not give it more power over you, it gives it less.</font></span></p><font face="georgia"><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHscBF1jr9Tdexa72mSzGdRNp1hszwjm538wcx_kqOLxlPWgwc6709Kdn0RaOxkjDxx0eylTdET2xyio5odzcPOetAsI4WKipKxa-H5VyIG3Hzq2zuiHnK5n7tLt596O_TqkgUwepbXo/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3492" data-original-width="4656" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHscBF1jr9Tdexa72mSzGdRNp1hszwjm538wcx_kqOLxlPWgwc6709Kdn0RaOxkjDxx0eylTdET2xyio5odzcPOetAsI4WKipKxa-H5VyIG3Hzq2zuiHnK5n7tLt596O_TqkgUwepbXo/w400-h300/20180817_204907.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><br /></div></div><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia">Speak your fear aloud so you can apply the salve of Psalm 103 to your heart. God is a better father to you than even your most fantastic dreams. He’s crazy about you. But he’s also realistic about you. He knows that you’re fragile. He remembers that he made you from mud and so his father hands are tender with you. He’s put short term solutions in your life to give you something to hang on to now, immediately. Like a good earthly Daddy, a kindred-spirit friend, a church that loves you unconditionally, a sister. But he also sees your future and knows how this sin-cursed world works. He knows you need more and those things are only a bridge to the truest solution for your soul - him. He’s working outside of your current view. He’s doing things you can’t see or feel yet to care for your heart. He is. I promise. Let Psalm 103 be your breath when fear tries to steal it. And let my story be your hope when you wonder if there is more than today’s fear. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="georgia"> </font></span></p><font face="georgia"><br /></font><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p><font face="georgia">Enter your email address:</font></p><p><font face="georgia"><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></font></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><font face="georgia"><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /></font><p><font face="georgia">Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></font></p></form>
Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-5410078239780410532020-05-27T14:47:00.003-04:002020-05-27T14:52:04.705-04:00Fear - You're Not the Boss of Me Anymore! - Part 1<span id="docs-internal-guid-262b47f3-7fff-df8c-9647-6e6beaf0c3c4"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">I had a recurring nightmare as a child. It woke me in the middle of the night and kept me awake worrying about whether it would fill my mind as soon as I closed my eyes. I thought I would outgrow it. I hoped my adult brain would be able to see things my child’s brain couldn’t and I would be free. Instead, a panicky fear of my Dad dying followed me into marriage and parenting. I’m 49 years old and until recently, the nightmare still showed up in various forms.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">This year my beloved Daddy died. I watched him take his last breath in front of me and imagined him arriving with the next in heaven. My whole life I’ve been clenched up around the fear that watching him die might break something inside of me and I couldn’t survive. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlEfZcj4MRlEZBajdkAybxieWQUUNGzHfwIYhkAF_DK_f1pRvZKLbYenZtnpJTsUNMOurvqUdNLD4aoG9yslS5kVjOUVP3L_96lEadhITOaeS8zj9AwOD53tGrwCH9WKbnX3pS-9CoP_U/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3492" data-original-width="4656" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlEfZcj4MRlEZBajdkAybxieWQUUNGzHfwIYhkAF_DK_f1pRvZKLbYenZtnpJTsUNMOurvqUdNLD4aoG9yslS5kVjOUVP3L_96lEadhITOaeS8zj9AwOD53tGrwCH9WKbnX3pS-9CoP_U/s320/20190805_190323.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><font face="arial"><br /></font></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">It didn’t happen. I’m more okay than I ever thought possible. My dad isn’t living anymore, he’s not here on earth for me to talk to or touch and I’m sitting upright and in my right mind. Today I’m amazed at my okayness. Finally being <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/04/devotion-how-to-be-prepared-for-trouble/">free of this fear</a> I’ve lived with so long feels like one of the biggest miracles of my life.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">The very thing I’ve been in fearful bondage to, my Dad’s death, is what brought 20/20 vision to why I've been afraid so long. Today I can see how God and my Dad had been linking arms the whole time to make sure I would thrive.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Let me tell you the story of how I got free. And how you can be free from your fear too. It all starts with my Dad. </font></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The best way to honor my Dad’s way of living is to pass on to you my “Lessons Learned” from the week I watched him go to heaven. </span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><font face="arial"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Soon after my first son was born and my Dad became a Grandpa, he began writing his life story. Each Christmas for the next couple of years, my sister and I received an installment of his book, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reflections: A Chronicle of Events and Perspectives Recalled by John M. Smith</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Handwritten on the front page of my copy are the words, “To Lori, Scott, Riley & Trevor - My life story, written for you. Hope you enjoy it. Love Dad/Grandad 12/25/1997. He gave us the last installment in 2011 and brought the finished page count to 300.</span></font></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">In the forward, he explained his intent, in my Dad’s classic style. He wanted his grandchildren and great-grandchildren to be able to become acquainted with their Grandad in a personal way even if they were unable to know him or remember him. He felt they should be able to find out who he was, where he came from, what he thought about life. He also wanted to give my sister, mom, and me a view of what growing up was like for him. </font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">His last, most poignant purpose was for his own benefit in the future. Dad wrote about wanting to be able to remember certain things when time started to dim his memories. Dad’s brother Roy, who was twenty years older than him, began to be overtaken by dementia soon after Dad began writing. Dad’s own dementia diagnosis came less than twenty years later. </font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSTza6r5xT8sVNSb33NZGrRmfXPrJDxbUAzmiVMCoWsieHGDS6isi72GVK_ZA8BrM_wHWdSwDSrYOEgju4yYvF5M9u9Pz2VTtqNVI53hfTkmzfUjJ0gafjwOOTfMJqvQfOlSVNGvjlOM/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSTza6r5xT8sVNSb33NZGrRmfXPrJDxbUAzmiVMCoWsieHGDS6isi72GVK_ZA8BrM_wHWdSwDSrYOEgju4yYvF5M9u9Pz2VTtqNVI53hfTkmzfUjJ0gafjwOOTfMJqvQfOlSVNGvjlOM/s320/20200121_165926.jpg" /></a></div><font face="arial"><br /></font><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">As things began to get fuzzy for Dad, reading his own words back to him became the thing that brought him the most joy and comfort. We read his stories and Dad listened intently. Every now and then he would exclaim, “By golly, that’s right! I’ll never forget that!” or “How did you know about that? Did it happen to you too?” One of Dad’s recurring questions during his illness was to ask me if I had gotten started on my own memoir journal yet. That question never stopped popping up, even near the end. He made it clear he believed it would be good for me as well as my children to get started writing. </font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Dad organized his stories chronologically but paused with a bold pop-out every so often titled “Lessons Learned.” Here he offered a condensed lesson he learned from the life experience he had just retold in his memoir. It’s like he put a hand on the reader’s shoulder and leaned closer to say, “Don’t miss this. It’s an important piece of my life and is a lesson you need too.” They were things like:</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Lesson Learned: When driving, be alert to everything around you, including what is happening behind you. With experience, you learn to spot situations that could easily turn into something dangerous to you and your passengers. This is your responsibility as the driver.”</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Lesson Learned: Not everyone has the same strength. It’s important to find yours, develop it, and use it. Don’t be impatient with those that can’t do something as easily as you can. Remember they have their strengths, which you may be deficient in.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">I’ve come to think about life in a “lesson learned” format. You tell the story and then boil it down so the reader can’t miss the lesson. So here’s "lesson learned" gift to you.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">My self-image has always been heavily influenced by whether I can make a select group of people in my life proud of me. My parents are the epicenter of this group. Maybe because my Dad and I shared such similar personalities, <a href="https://www.loriflorida.com/2014/11/two-wings-every-kid-needs-as-they-leave.html">his thoughts and opinions</a> of me have always been the anchor around which I see myself. </font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Those recurring nightmares of my past were always centered on my dad’s death. I’ve never been able to shake the crazy panic I felt as a little girl if I ever imagined my life without him in it. I’ve also never understood why this panic has such a hook into me. It was powerful, about more than loving my dad and not wanting to live without him. I lived with a vague panic that my world might actually implode without him in it.</font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEXJw9mo6OrvNTpMo6nqrEVoLPcFy1sKKPZvlTaIy_AVBTcfMO-MT2D5oV_02-H6Zt3Vjd6nEAPzj_N-UY45LYMW1BWT93Ayb7snJahYJduyddJma3AAs6JM5SoiCqU9bGaw1aZ8B9JI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEXJw9mo6OrvNTpMo6nqrEVoLPcFy1sKKPZvlTaIy_AVBTcfMO-MT2D5oV_02-H6Zt3Vjd6nEAPzj_N-UY45LYMW1BWT93Ayb7snJahYJduyddJma3AAs6JM5SoiCqU9bGaw1aZ8B9JI/s320/20200121_170606.jpg" /></a></div><font face="arial"><br /></font><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">My dad was 37 years old when I was born. I always knew he was older than most of my classmates’ dads. A child of the depression, he took the provider/caretaker role in our family very seriously. He planned and saved and ran spread-sheets my whole life that centered on making sure Mom would be taken care of when he was gone. So it makes sense that I lived a little hyper-aware of his death. It was the intense panic I didn’t understand.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Dad's dementia diagnosis in his early seventies and his quick decline this year pushed me to face my panic head-on. As an adult, I’ve tried to understand this panic and find its root, but always with the hope I had loads of time left to figure it out. This January, it clearly became time to unravel the thing holding me so tightly in its grip. A bigger fear started to supplant the familiar one of him dying - me facing his certain death on shaky ground.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">As I began to think and pray, my fear started to come out of the shadows and take shape. Pieces of it were about missing my dad’s physical presence with his soft face and special wink reserved only for his girls. It’s core shape though, was the fear that without his physical presence I might become untethered to all the things that make me feel settled in my skin. That the only vision of myself that’s ever been clear to me is the one I see reflected in his face. That I won’t know who I am without his voice telling me.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><font face="arial"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But guess what? My dad’s soul left for heaven four months, one day, and about fourteen hours ago and I haven’t dissolved into a pile of nothing yet. I’m more okay than my fear ever let me think was possible. I’ve weathered the scariest thing in my life and imagination better than I expected to because of the “</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lesson Learned</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” God is teaching me right now.</span></font></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Lesson Learned: The security you found in your dad’s opinion of you was an important part of God’s plan, but not all of God’s plan. The things your dad gave you were a downpayment on the things God, your good Father is giving you now. Your dad carefully stewarded your self-worth and in ways invisible to you, has been carefully handing the baton back to God. More of how you see yourself is currently resting in how God sees you than you realized. This is why you are okay.</font></span></p><font face="arial"><br /></font><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><font face="arial">Next Wednesday - same time, same place, and I’ll finish the story and hand you the key to freedom I found. </font></span></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><br /><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com"></a></p><p><a href="https://feedburner.google.com"><br /><br /></a></p><p></p></form>Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-79504346117299254782020-05-13T17:36:00.002-04:002020-05-13T17:38:09.271-04:00Hack Yourself First - the Life Hack that Changes Everything<span id="docs-internal-guid-6a1581b4-7fff-b96a-1dcb-15f257fcb53a"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you start looking for hacks to make your life simpler and happier in the wrong places, you will accomplish the exact opposite of what you hope. You will spin out on solutions to problems you don’t have. You will waste energy trying to feel good about accomplishments that don’t matter to you. You’ll quit because it didn’t work.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><font size="4">Shortcuts are good for two things: finishing faster or having more fun.</font></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we drive from Grand Rapids to Chicago for a fun weekend in the city we usually want to get there as quickly as possible so the fun can begin. Extra time spent wandering through Gary, Indiana in the car isn’t tempting when deep dish pizza and a show are waiting for us in Chicago. We want to shave time off the trip any way we can. We’re looking for a time-saving shortcut, an efficiency hack. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 18pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6CO7-PuyPQPsJ5jU6uwopbitqiq_lfOmtliSpAcbyzpmGXquZ9DRwMioe2P2_oSfGEK1NgmmC4PzjfAuIeUMrj9PdkyHL-uZ1wzWPmzuBXTGqo7uiNGFj3zvy7ZRSmtse_kcb7SBfqI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3759" data-original-width="5639" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6CO7-PuyPQPsJ5jU6uwopbitqiq_lfOmtliSpAcbyzpmGXquZ9DRwMioe2P2_oSfGEK1NgmmC4PzjfAuIeUMrj9PdkyHL-uZ1wzWPmzuBXTGqo7uiNGFj3zvy7ZRSmtse_kcb7SBfqI/w400-h266/tabea-damm-9-xfYKAI6ZI-unsplash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You can only find a shortcut to an actual destination. Until we’ve set a course to Chicago, there’s no way to find a quicker path. Before I know I want to have a garden, it’s silly to figure out who has seeds on sale and how to choose the right location in my yard. Until you decide you want a master’s degree you won’t be saving yourself any time by mapping out the fastest route to the college.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thinking about those things before you actually decide to do them isn’t wrong or pointless. It’s just not a hack. It’s dreaming. Efficiency hacks have to come after a direction is set. You can’t get nowhere faster.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><font size="4">Some hacks are about efficiency, some are about happiness. </font></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The truth is, even on the shortest route possible, Chicago requires a solid three hours in the car from my driveway to city center. We could stare out the windows in silence for those 180 minutes…or we could employ life hacks that infuse a necessary job with extra fun. We play games, listen to podcasts, read books, and talk. We pack Funyuns and cans of pop. When a necessary job looks boring, we bring the fun, a happiness hack.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t really have a choice about whether I do certain tasks that are, by nature, boring. Laundry, emptying the dishwasher, homework - they all have a tendency to feel like pure drudgery. Until I employ a magic life hack that marries duty to pleasure. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So the very first, most important step to finding hacks with the power make your life happier and more productive is to have some ideas about where your life is heading. What matters to you? What hats are you wearing every day? What roles are you juggling? What dreams do you have for the future? What catches your attention and makes you want more? What do you wish you had more time and energy for?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We make this process hard on ourselves by making it bigger than it needs to be. You don’t need a fully developed life plan or goal sheet to be able to start finding shortcuts that make sense for you. You just need to know yourself well enough to be able to talk about yourself like you would a friend. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">Hi, I’m Lori. </font></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet"><br /></font></i></span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love twist soft-serve with rainbow sprinkles but I don’t like Twizzlers, even though all my friends do. </font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I have eight kids, two daughters in law, three grandkids, one husband, and a dog. </font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I want to create a home and family life that welcomes people in and inspires them to believe in their dreams.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love Jesus. God’s word is the truest thing I’ve ever discovered.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I crave tidy, cleared-off spaces. They help me think and breathe.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I don’t want to spend my life being a maid.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love the way sunshine feels on my skin.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">Hiking is the best.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I’m a sucker for a well-told story - written or audio.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love finding more efficient ways to do things and think systems are cool.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love sleeping in and staying up late.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet"><a href="https://www.loriflorida.com/2017/02/we-cant-dance-glorious-table.html">I'm a terrible dancer.</a></font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">Dogs are by far my favorite animal.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">Black is my favorite color. White and pink are second and third.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love traveling and I love staying home.</font></i></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin-left: -18pt; padding-left: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><font face="trebuchet">I love coffee and home-made whip cream.</font></i></span></p></li></ul><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.loriflorida.com/search/label/Simplifying">Knowing these things about myself gives direction to the cool ideas I find on Pinterest.</a> I stop scrolling at posts about packing for a week in a carry-on and beautiful quotes of deep thoughts. A sale on bulk Twizzlers? I scroll right past. Or forward it to my girlfriends. Knowing myself is the filter that makes the bounty of the Internet useful instead of an avalanche I get buried under.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Can you give me a quick ten bullet points about yourself right now? If you can, your filter is working. If not, you need to grab a cup of coffee and stare into space for a while so you can put words to the things about you that have been buried beneath a busy life. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Start with ten bullet points but don’t stop there. Every day is a new opportunity to understand yourself better and build a stronger, more useful filter. Cultivate the habit of noticing yourself and being curious.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What makes your eyebrows knit together? What foods make it impossible for you to resist seconds? Which jeans make you feel comfortable all day. What makes you love cooking dinner, what makes you hate it? Which room in your house do you sit down in most often? Do you change your earrings every day or put a favorite set in and wear them for a month? Do you have kids? Do you want kids someday? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After you begin to notice yourself more, learn to ask the next questions - Why? Or What’s that about? What is it about these jeans that makes me choose them every time they are clean? Why am I drawn to the fireplace room every time I want to relax. Why do I hate doing laundry so much?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The more you know yourself, the more you’ll hone in on the life hacks and shortcuts that have the potential to mean the most to your real, actual life. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 18pt;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><font size="4">Hacking yourself is the first hack that changes everything.</font></b></span></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><br /><form action="https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify" method="post" onsubmit="window.open('https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=FloridaFamilyStonePile', 'popupwindow', 'scrollbars=yes,width=550,height=520');return true" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 3px; text-align: center;" target="popupwindow"><p>Enter your email address:</p><p><input name="email" style="width: 140px;" type="text" /></p><input name="uri" type="hidden" value="FloridaFamilyStonePile" /><input name="loc" type="hidden" value="en_US" /><input type="submit" value="To Have New Posts Delivered Directly to Your Inbox, Subscribe Here!" /><p>Delivered by <a href="https://feedburner.google.com" target="_blank">FeedBurner</a></p></form>
<br /><p><br /><br /></p>Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-37832078227695969912019-11-28T13:25:00.000-05:002019-11-28T13:25:37.074-05:00Preparing Your Kids to Fly - The Glorious Table<br />
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My friend discovered a nest in a tree next to her driveway, and she watched it all summer. It was perfectly hidden behind a few branches but easily seen when you knew which ones to pull back. Each time my friend bent one of those branches, she witnessed a new stage of development happening right on cue. Tiny eggs nestled in a warm, safe spot. Momma bird brought food to her pink babies. Fully feathered babies chirped and bounced inside the nest.</div>
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One day I was with her as she made her daily nest check. She pulled back a branch, but she didn’t lean in as I expected. Instead, she jumped back in surprise as a baby bird took its maiden voyage inches from her face! She turned to me with wonder in her words. “I can’t believe it! These birds have never flown before!” With her next breath, she told me how she was sure they were ready.</div>
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I said those words a week later as we loaded my twin daughters’ belongings into our van bound for their freshman year college dorm: “I know they’re ready, but I can hardly believe it!” While the words squeezed around a huge lump in my throat, they also threatened to burst into an excited scream! It felt utterly impossible. How could I be so sure? The tiny babes who had depended on me for every need now didn’t need my skills or even physical presence to fly. It shouldn’t be true, I thought, but deep in my bones, I knew it was.<br />
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I’ve learned to trust the confidence in my gut a little more each time I’ve watched one of my own birdies fly. Our twins are the fifth and sixth of our babies to launch. Every one of them has proven true the suspicions I had watching them as they grew—they have what it takes. Flying is inevitable. The sight of a full-grown bird being fed in the nest by his mommy is a cautionary tale, not an observation of an awe-inspiring creature. In the same way, a time comes when our home is too small for the wing-spreading our kids need to do. The time is coming. We need to be ready.<br />
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<a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2019/11/preparing-your-kids-to-fly-devotional/">Click here and join me at The Glorious Table</a> to read my tips for helping your Momma heart gain the confidence you need to be ready to watch those birdies of yours fly!</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-53482352122658324802019-07-05T10:10:00.000-04:002019-07-05T10:10:37.586-04:00Four Rules for Giving the Best Advice - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was a woman who spent her life hiding. She hid in her home; she hid in bravado; she hid in toxic relationships. The day Jesus went after her, she was hiding in plain sight. I wish I knew her name and could invite her to coffee. I want to hear more about the conversation she had with Jesus beside the well in Samaria. It must have been a doozy, because it sent her off into public with a loud message. Something profound changed in her heart, making her a person who wasn’t afraid to be seen and heard. <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2018/08/awakening-hearts-christ-devotional/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7d947d; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;" target="_blank">She suddenly spoke words with power.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+4&version=ESV" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #7d947d; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;">John 4: 39-42</a> tells what happened next:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. They said to the woman, “We no longer believe <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">just because</em> of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.” (ESV)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Samaritan woman didn’t know much about Jesus; in fact, all she knew she could tell in one sentence. She couldn’t explain Jesus or answer the townspeople’s questions. Her words only had power because they drew attention to Jesus’ power. She was a lighted, blinking arrow pointing the way to the big top where the main event could be found. Her job was simply to point. Jesus was the main event. He showed up. He gave the people what they needed. But the people were hungry to hear <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">because of the Samaritan woman’s words</em>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you’re anything like me, you are painfully aware of what you don’t know. The fear of giving wrong advice often stops you from giving any advice at all. We repeat the mantra that God’s power is the only true changer of hearts and let ourselves off the hook. Our fears hide the truth of the Samaritan woman from us—God loves to use our story as his megaphone. He wants to make each of our lives a blinking arrow that points to him, the main event.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mentoring young women for the past twenty years has taught me that giving awesome advice is simpler and far less scary than we often think. W<span class="emphasis" style="background: rgb(171, 244, 242); box-sizing: border-box;">e have more to offer than we think we do by merely by offering our authentic selves.</span> Jesus does all the heavy lifting for us if we just show up and follow these simple rules.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hop on over to <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2019/07/four-rules-for-giving-the-best-advice/?fbclid=IwAR3YHaM7KquseirY7VihYFZub8AGqb96kfmVIZvO-m4WyNgS4GSlT-Alcjc">The Glorious Table</a> to read my simple rules!</span></div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-84011082508302484702019-03-15T23:29:00.000-04:002020-03-28T12:58:50.319-04:00Five Steps to Happiness - The Glorious Table<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I fight the urge to hyperventilate as we get close to the trailhead. I wish the cause was adrenaline and excitement, but that’s not the problem. Self-recrimination runs wild. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">How could I do this to myself again? What was I thinking when I said another yes to this kind of trip? Did I forget that I’m not in my twenties anymore?</em> I take deep breaths and force a tremulous smile as we disembark from the van and I’m quickly thrust into the role of experienced, calm hiker with our group.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I zip my comfortable flip-flops into my pack with my other thirty pounds of essential supplies, slather myself with 100 percent Deet, and lace up my hikers. There’s no turning back now. The only question is how much happiness I’ll be able to wrestle out of the climb.</span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The first section is always the hardest</em>, I tell myself. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, taking one more step and then one more.</em>The hot sandy trail leads through streams and slowly slants uphill, becoming rocky.</span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I take what must be the 18,209<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 13.5px; line-height: 0; position: relative; top: -0.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">th</span> step, I draw in another deep breath, look up, and pause to fully soak in the beauty around me. The snowy peaks of the Wind River Mountains rise above the trees on either side of me. My heart swells as I hear birds chirping, and I feel the soft breeze on my skin. All this must have been here as I was trudging along, but I hadn’t noticed until I looked up. Only 18,209 steps could bring me to this beautiful place near the Continental Divide, where purple flowers push themselves out of rocky cracks. Only a change in my gaze could allow me to see the flowers and the mountains instead of just the ground at my feet. Only a change of my gaze could bring happiness.</span><br />
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Every single day of my life is like that. Moments happen. Circumstances swirl out of my control. My feet get wet, I have miles left to go, and the load is heavy. But often, at those very same moments, birds are singing, a warm breeze is softly touching my skin, and a view I forgot to notice is before me.
The simplest path to happiness most often requires only a shift of my eyes. When I apply the lessons of the Wyoming wilderness, I’m surprised by how much happiness lives in each of my routine, everyday moments.
Hop on over to <a href="https://theglorioustable.com/2019/03/five-steps-to-happiness-devotional/">The Glorious Table</a> to read the five steps to happiness I learned in the Wyoming wilderness.
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-78742358236734136202018-11-28T08:36:00.000-05:002018-11-28T08:37:18.974-05:00Silver and Gold: The Gift of Friendship - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #080a0a; font-family: Cormorant; font-size: 18px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.5px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, and the other is gold.</em></div>
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Living in the parsonage next door to my church brought with it a fierce temptation to run for cover on Sunday mornings. At war with my longing for good friends was my compulsion to avoid awkward post-service conversations. I loved my friends; it was the process from acquaintance to bosom friend that killed me. Voices in my head told me the happy groups chatting in the foyer didn’t need one more person. But I was in a new place with new people as a mom of two preschoolers. To build a life here, I needed friends.</div>
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God always knew I needed friends. The proof started before I was even born as my mom discovered one of her Lamaze classmates attended the same church she did. My first friendship was born before I was.</div>
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Kim and I grew up together. She was the blond to my brunette, the laughter to my serious, and the active to my laid back. She provided an anchor of belonging to my little heart. I can’t remember my elementary school days without Kim’s face connected to fun times.</div>
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God added another layer when I tested out of my reading group in first grade. The school wanted to advance me further than my mom was comfortable. The compromise was to advance me with another girl to a level that made both moms comfortable. It turned out Gretchen didn’t only go to my school; she also lived four blocks down the street from me. We wore a path between our houses experiencing the best and hardest pieces of growing up.</div>
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Going to a new school for eighth grade—alone—felt like torture. I held my eyes open wide as we drove so tears wouldn’t drop onto my carefully mascara-ed eyelashes. I’d never had to make friends on my own before, and I felt sure the only ones I had were a result of my two besties’ sparkle. But God had a plan. Within two weeks, I had friends. At graduation, we took a group photo, and I told my mom, “It would be impossible to ever find friends this good again.”</div>
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God might have laughed just then.</div>
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I couldn’t see his hand yet. It took a few more years of perspective for my rearview mirror to clear...</div>
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Please join me at <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/11/silver-and-gold-womens-devotional/">The Glorious Table</a> to continue reading about the ways God has over and over again given me the gift friendships.</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-92111448397191705692018-07-11T12:03:00.000-04:002018-07-11T12:04:39.338-04:00Why Your Kids Need the Church - The Glorious Table<br />
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Murphy’s Law would say everything goes wrong as you’re trying to get your family out the door for church. People wake up late, and they wake up grumpy. The baby poops through his diaper onto your pants just as we are walking out the door. Big homework projects due on Monday are suddenly “remembered.” I’ve actually arrived at church with a barefoot kid. More than once. Apparently hopping into the car in a warm attached garage makes my kids forget shoes are necessary in the winter.</div>
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Sunday mornings are often hard, yet despite all the forces of nature that work against us and the Sunday morning trauma we’ve endured, regular church attendance is a family priority. For us it’s a clear case of the benefits outweighing the costs.</div>
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<img alt="Why Our Kids Need Church" class="wp-image-8521 aligncenter size-full" height="331" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" src="https://i0.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/why-kids-need-church.png?resize=1200%2C630" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/why-kids-need-church.png?w=1200 1200w, https://i0.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/why-kids-need-church.png?resize=300%2C158 300w, https://i0.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/why-kids-need-church.png?resize=768%2C403 768w, https://i0.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/why-kids-need-church.png?resize=1024%2C538 1024w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0px auto 24px; max-width: 100%;" width="630" /></div>
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In the heat of the moment, when baby poop is running down your leg and the toddler can’t find his shoes, you need to have conviction and purpose to keep going. You need to be convinced that giving your kids a church family is something you can’t afford to miss. <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/07/our-kids-need-church-womens-devotion/">Click here to read five reasons I think it’s worth it to brave the Sunday morning craziness.</a></div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-10169391688535838242018-06-28T16:56:00.002-04:002018-06-28T16:56:18.172-04:00Have you Glimpsed Your Soul - The Glorious Table<header class="entry-header" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #32004b; font-family: "Sorts Mill Goudy"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px;"><div class="entry-meta" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato; font-size: 10px; margin-bottom: 4px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">
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An unexpected reflection as I passed a store window or mirror used to clue me into some form of self-care that needed tightening up. Now a notification that I’ve been tagged in a friend’s online photo makes me throw out an old favorite sweatshirt or lean closer to the magnifying mirror with my tweezers. A non-curated view of myself encourages better self-care.</div>
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The same thing can drive changes in my soul.</div>
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Soul mirrors are harder to come by than physical reflections. Although the messages they hold are less obvious, they’re a precious treasure. After the initial uncomfortable flinch, if we learn to stay in the moment, the truth will emerge. When it does, we can become something new. Writing for the Glorious Table has been this type of soul mirror for me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nKRZQB5zkiqlJBlDfcxdV7E19odZ2ZbviKv1a_tyMW-F7HPak63132PEgfurAarWr7WAiR3QxjZkvNn0E6IKMaZLbKqG6Ju3HtQEvVZlm6YaqwswK856EtXzg3XIRoWbnA63W12PEQc/s1600/have-you-glimpsed-01.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nKRZQB5zkiqlJBlDfcxdV7E19odZ2ZbviKv1a_tyMW-F7HPak63132PEgfurAarWr7WAiR3QxjZkvNn0E6IKMaZLbKqG6Ju3HtQEvVZlm6YaqwswK856EtXzg3XIRoWbnA63W12PEQc/s640/have-you-glimpsed-01.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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I sent my first submission to our editor, Harmony, on July 31, 2015. It came back with much-needed red ink and kind but firm instruction. “Also,” she wrote, “you need to work on eliminating ellipses. I suggest looking at the CMS section on ellipses and thinking about when it’s appropriate to use them . . . You had eight ellipses in 800 words—that’s a lot.”</div>
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Alone in front of my computer screen, I felt myself blush. I was embarrassed to need a Google search to define ellipsis ( . . . ), but I was also excited to see a path to grow. I thought Harmony was holding up a mirror for my writing, but it turned out to also be a mirror for my soul.</div>
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Please join me at <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/06/glimpsed-your-soul-daily-devotional/">The Glorious Table</a> to read the rest of my ellipses lesson!</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-65549835041446259262018-06-10T15:07:00.000-04:002018-06-10T15:08:28.810-04:00Live Your Genealogy Well - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #32004b; font-family: "Sorts Mill Goudy"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
“When Reu had lived 32 years, he became the father of Serug. And after he became the father of Serug, Reu lived 207 years and had other sons and daughters. When Serug had lived 30years, he became the father of Nahor. And after he became the father of Nahor, Serug lived 200 years and had other sons and daughters.” <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=genesis+11&version=NKJV" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #d39191; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">Genesis 11:20-23 (NKJV)</a></div>
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I bet you didn’t memorize these verses in Sunday School when you were growing up. If you’re like me, your eyes glazed over as you stumbled through them to finish your Read Through The Bible in a Year plan. Maybe you think of Ancestry.com commercials you’ve seen and wonder about your own lineage. Did the line of your nose come from a distant descendant from a foreign country? Was your outlook on life shaped little by little as it filtered down from a culture you’ve never directly experienced? And the most weighty question: what legacy am I crafting for the generations who follow?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFysNyovJ59GxjvlE-9eVUgcZ5qdfd0oT3xY3Iw_oiJww0vdqgDqQzz78CekSKSguB3-w1NSGCiXaSJSGo0fBnxO1mD0mnfz9dLMhEbGo-aHjVHiXVJBK7Nbpkyu5jRadrrSBoODEr1I/s1600/live-your-genealogy-well.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFysNyovJ59GxjvlE-9eVUgcZ5qdfd0oT3xY3Iw_oiJww0vdqgDqQzz78CekSKSguB3-w1NSGCiXaSJSGo0fBnxO1mD0mnfz9dLMhEbGo-aHjVHiXVJBK7Nbpkyu5jRadrrSBoODEr1I/s640/live-your-genealogy-well.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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If each word of the Bible is truly God-breathed and useful in our lives, genealogies must have precious gems of truth hidden in them. I think one of those gems is a perspective bigger than ourselves. The genealogies are a tool God uses to give us an eagle-eye view of his work and our place in it.</div>
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Read my tips for living your genealogy well at <a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/%E2%80%9CWhen%20Reu%20had%20lived%2032%20years,%20he%20became%20the%20father%20of%20Serug.%20And%20after%20he%20became%20the%20father%20of%20Serug,%20Reu%20lived%20207%20years%20and%20had%20other%20sons%20and%20daughters.%20When%20Serug%20had%20lived%2030years,%20he%20became%20the%20father%20of%20Nahor.%20And%20after%20he%20became%20the%20father%20of%20Nahor,%20Serug%20lived%20200%20years%20and%20had%20other%20sons%20and%20daughters.%E2%80%9D%20Genesis%2011:20-23%20(NKJV)%20%20I%20bet%20you%20didn%E2%80%99t%20memorize%20these%20verses%20in%20Sunday%20School%20when%20you%20were%20growing%20up.%20If%20you%E2%80%99re%20like%20me,%20your%20eyes%20glazed%20over%20as%20you%20stumbled%20through%20them%20to%20finish%20your%20Read%20Through%20The%20Bible%20in%20a%20Year%20plan.%20Maybe%20you%20think%20of%20Ancestry.com%20commercials%20you%E2%80%99ve%20seen%20and%20wonder%20about%20your%20own%20lineage.%20Did%20the%20line%20of%20your%20nose%20come%20from%20a%20distant%20descendant%20from%20a%20foreign%20country?%20Was%20your%20outlook%20on%20life%20shaped%20little%20by%20little%20as%20it%20filtered%20down%20from%20a%20culture%20you%E2%80%99ve%20never%20directly%20experienced?%20And%20the%20most%20weighty%20question:%20what%20legacy%20am%20I%20crafting%20for%20the%20generations%20who%20follow?%20%20If%20each%20word%20of%20the%20Bible%20is%20truly%20God-breathed%20and%20useful%20in%20our%20lives,%20genealogies%20must%20have%20precious%20gems%20of%20truth%20hidden%20in%20them.%20I%20think%20one%20of%20those%20gems%20is%20a%20perspective%20bigger%20than%20ourselves.%20The%20genealogies%20are%20a%20tool%20God%20uses%20to%20give%20us%20an%20eagle-eye%20view%20of%20his%20work%20and%20our%20place%20in%20it.">The Glorious Table</a>!</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-15312777614230653942018-05-11T10:58:00.001-04:002018-05-11T10:58:08.854-04:00Motherhood Ain't for Sissies - The Glorious Table<div align="center">
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Someday I’ll be a white-haired lady talking with friends or gazing out a window alone with my thoughts. My conversation and thoughts are sure to center around moments when my life was busy with little people who called me Mom. Among the everyday moments, other memories will float to the surface and demand my attention above the rest. The highlights will be the clutch moments, the pivotal points in my children’s lives when a decision was made or a new ounce of courage was found. The moments I got to watch them <i>become</i>.</div>
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Those clutch moments are the same desires I dreamt about when my babies were growing inside me. My prayers were full of desire to be there when my kids needed me most. I was desperate to offer support and put the wind in their sails. The same moments I longed for at the beginning will be the exact ones sustaining me at the end.</div>
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What I didn’t see coming were the tears. My early dreams and the memories real life has given me bear many similarities; what they don’t share are all those tears. My dreams didn’t consider the ripping required for the butterflies to emerge from their cocoons. They didn’t compute the necessary tearing of muscles to make them grow strong.</div>
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<a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/05/motherhood-aint-for-sissies/">Read more at The Glorious Table!</a> </div>
Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-81978552880265744482018-04-21T09:51:00.000-04:002018-04-21T09:51:29.528-04:00Devotion - How to Be Prepared for Trouble - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #32004b; font-family: "Sorts Mill Goudy"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">“</em>I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+16&version=ESV" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #d39191; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">John 16:33 ESV</a>)</div>
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We all love a good police drama. My favorite episodes are when they call in a guy (or woman) to defuse a bomb or talk down a hostage taker. One guy steps forward, close to danger, willing to defy great odds. He knows he has expertise and preparation the rest of the world doesn’t have to offer.</div>
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The expert has high-level training and has honed his skill through hours of practice. He has learned to mitigate the effects of stress on his body. He uses deep breathing to slow his heart rate and steady his hand. Good sleep and healthy living are serious issues to him, knowing he could get a call at any moment.</div>
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Why is he this extreme? What has made him willing to sacrifice time and pleasure to prepare with unusual skills? He knows he’s on call and that his phone will ring when disaster strikes. He expects trouble and has prepared to meet it with skill and strength.</div>
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I go about my days without ever practicing bomb-defusing skills. I never check my phone expecting to see an urgent call from the local police negotiations unit. They never request my help. My job doesn’t demand expert skills in hostage negotiations or bomb defusing. It makes sense that I don’t have those skills. It would be utterly foolish if I applied for and got a job in special operations and was put on call, because I’d be unprepared.</div>
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***I'll share my secrets for living life as prepared as the bomb expert over at<a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/04/devotion-how-to-be-prepared-for-trouble/"> The Glorious Table</a>. Please join me there to read more!**</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-34971487074190363302018-03-13T14:11:00.003-04:002018-04-21T09:51:53.138-04:00The Giver Gets the Greatest Blessing - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #32004b; font-family: "Sorts Mill Goudy"; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
Tigist invited me into her home in Ethiopia because I was—and still am—her <a href="http://www.loriflorida.com/2015/10/i-have-sister-who-doesnt-speak-english.html" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #d39191; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">American sister/sponsor</a>. When my heart was stirred toward orphan prevention, my girlfriends joined me, we pooled our money, and I earned the opportunity to be Tigist’s honored guest.</div>
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The inequities of our lives churned inside me during our visit. Our two birthplaces make our realities wildly different. Her entire home is the size of my master bathroom. I have access to medical specialists, while her community has one doctor per 33,333 people. My hard work has the power to significantly change my situation. Her hard work, day in and day out, barely keeps malnutrition at bay.</div>
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Trying to make sense of these disparities has been an open, working file in my mind since the day I met Tigist. I need to understand how God is working and what he expects from me. The privilege of my birthplace is a sacred offering I have to give to the world.</div>
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Wrestling with these questions has caused unexpected certitudes to appear. The most brilliant is that what I’ve gained by <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/10/living-faith-intentionally/" rel="noopener" style="background: 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #d39191; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">giving</a> far outweighs what I’ve given.</div>
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Join me over at <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/03/giver-gets-greatest-blessing/">The Glorious Table</a> to read the conclusion of this post.</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-56473949014043032452018-01-18T20:58:00.002-05:002018-04-21T09:53:34.508-04:00The One Thing You Need to Age Gracefully - The Glorious Table<br />
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Twenty years ago, when I imagined myself mid-life, I curated a mental list of the things I imagined myself doing. I expected my forties to be busy, bustling with action. I hoped for a full family life and strength to check boxes on important lists all day long. I hoped to maintain a sense of style that didn’t embarrass my daughters but stayed unique. I wanted my forty-something self to be doing things that felt satisfying.</div>
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Here I am at forty-six, and it’s almost exactly as I expected. It seems to be the sweet spot of both strength and perspective. A peak from which I can see how far I’ve come and am starting to turn my face toward new vistas. Thinking about the future is quite different than in my twenties. Then, life seemed limitless, but now it’s easier to see <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2016/03/finding-your-voice/" rel="noopener" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-sizing: border-box; color: #e9cf7b; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out;" target="_blank">time’s constraints</a>.</div>
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<img alt="The One Thing You Need to Age Gracefully" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-7143" height="331" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" src="https://i1.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/the-one-thing-you-need-to-age-gracefully-01.png?resize=1200%2C630" srcset="https://i1.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/the-one-thing-you-need-to-age-gracefully-01.png?w=1200 1200w, https://i1.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/the-one-thing-you-need-to-age-gracefully-01.png?resize=300%2C158 300w, https://i1.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/the-one-thing-you-need-to-age-gracefully-01.png?resize=768%2C403 768w, https://i1.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/the-one-thing-you-need-to-age-gracefully-01.png?resize=1024%2C538 1024w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0px auto 24px; max-width: 100%;" width="630" /></div>
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I used to think I wanted to age like Sophia Loren. She’s stylish and drop-dead gorgeous; she doesn’t try to be any age but the one she is. She gives off an air of embracing the best pieces of who she is today. Twenty and even forty years from now, reality tells me that my strength will wane–of body <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">and</em> mind. In my eighties, I may not have the eyesight necessary to pluck my eyebrows evenly and apply eyeliner well. Without Sophia Loren’s team of stylists, my eighties are bound to look much different than hers. Already I’m doing regular double-takes in the mirror, surprised by gravity’s power. I’m not putting a date on the calendar for when I plan to let myself go, but I do feel a strong pull to be something significant on the <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">inside</em> and not just the outside.</div>
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<a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/01/one-thing-you-need-age-gracefully/">Read more at The Glorious Table.</a></div>
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Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-56285373264230400512018-01-02T17:12:00.004-05:002018-04-21T09:53:48.272-04:00You Don't Always Need a Resolution - The Glorious Table<br />
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I think I was born loving shoes. In a box somewhere in the attic, I have a pair of white leather baby shoes with my name in gold-leaf on the soles. My habit throughout childhood was to go to sleep with new shoes placed in their box, the lid off, by my bed so that they would be the first thing my blurry eyes would see in the morning. I had a growth spurt during middle school, a few short months after my mom bought me exactly the pair of Nikes I wanted. My shoes were still sparkling white when my toes started complaining. My flabbergasted mom took me shoe shopping again—back to the same store, back to the same Nikes with a purple swish. I loved those shoes—both pairs!</div>
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This shoe love made my decision to walk out of a shoe store without a purchase this summer feel crazy.</div>
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We were shopping for hiking shoes for our adventure into the Wyoming Rocky Mountains. Because we would be carrying all our belongings in backpacks for a week, our feet would be our most important piece of equipment. This required good shoes. My husband, Scott, had hiking shoes that were worn out. Our girls had never been hiking. They all clearly needed new shoes.</div>
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I still had a solid pair I had worn on three previous hiking trips. They bore scuffs, scratches, and soot marks, but plenty of life was left in them. I waffled between the allure of new shoes and the tried-and-true comfort of my old pair. <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2018/01/dont-always-need-resolution/">Read the rest at The Glorious Table.</a></div>
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Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-23944667753573973462017-11-15T14:19:00.000-05:002018-04-21T09:55:23.456-04:00How to Find Beauty in the Fog - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #795940; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
The radio deejay warned us to use headlights. Dense fog threatened to slow the morning commute and cause accidents. I felt no fear, but I still used my lights, and I counted on other drivers to do the same. I needed them to be visible as I turned onto a busy road and could see only a few feet in front of my vehicle. My heart thumped as I pressed the gas pedal, hoping no surprise would appear out of the mist. Even our familiar path felt strange and different in the fog. I drove with an extra dose of awareness.</div>
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That morning drive was easy compared to the days when fog seems to fill my whole life. I hate those days. Indecision paralyzes me. My stomach feels sour, and all I can think about is how easy and straightforward other peoples’ lives look. I want to bury my head in the pillows, refusing to move until the fog lifts. Even then, I know the only way out of this life fog is walking to the edge of it, one tiny step at a time.<br />
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Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-89243081099357555172017-10-26T18:15:00.000-04:002018-04-21T09:55:05.538-04:00Three Signs Your Life Is Too Busy - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #795940; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
Stacy the guinea pig had lived a long, happy life. I, however, felt terrible. My husband and son were adventuring in Canada while I held down the fort at home. Not twenty-four hours into my solo parenting time, I began to feel the telltale signs of strep throat. You can only “mom” so well from the couch, which narrowed my goal to basic survival.</div>
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We were getting by on Pop-Tarts, PBS Kids, and amoxicillin when my daughter’s loud question woke me. “Why is Stacy so stiff?” My eyes popped open, and I was suddenly wide awake. The guinea pig was in her outstretched hands, inches from my face. Its arms were outstretched, too, in the final pose of obvious death. My daughter was four. I was sick, and Scott was off the grid in the Canadian wilderness. This was not the moment I had scripted for a serious discussion about death.</div>
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We found a Stacy-sized shoe box and then realized we faced a conundrum: burying her. She belonged to my son, who was gone, and it didn’t seem right to bury her without him home. My mind, in its drug-induced haze, offered only one solution. Put her, shoe box and all, in the deep freeze and wait for them to get home.</div>
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The boys came home, but life got away from us, and the little shoe box in the back of the deep freeze was forgotten. People usually laugh at this part of the story, imagining a guinea pig alongside our hamburgers and pork roasts. My brother-in-law had a different take. He contemplatively said, “Maybe a guinea pig in your freezer is a sign that your life is too busy.”</div>
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Join me at <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/10/three-signs-life-busy/">The Glorious Table</a> to finish this essay and read about the lessons I learned about leaving the too-busy life behind.</div>
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Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-77024246344953758812017-09-11T10:05:00.000-04:002017-09-11T10:05:43.780-04:00Are You Raising Kids with a Legacy in Mind? - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #795940; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
I love old books. Maybe it’s the smell of history that rolls out with the crackly pages. Maybe it’s the tone of authority old-fashioned English gives to the words. Maybe it’s knowing the words are the only remaining living parts of the author. Certainly it’s the look and feel of a proper cloth binding.</div>
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<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret</em> is a skinny red book that grabbed my attention for all those reasons. It was printed by China Inland Mission in 1935 and bears the name of its previous owner in flowy script. It was written by Taylor’s son and daughter-in-law, who followed him as missionaries to China.</div>
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To this day members of the Taylor family are continuing the work Hudson began in China. During his fifty-one years there, he recruited eight hundred missionaries to join him. They went to China trusting God to meet their physical needs without any fundraising. Hudson used unconventional means to gain entry into the hearts of the people. He adopted Chinese dress and many other customs. The fruit was great. Over eighteen thousand Chinese converted to Christianity as a direct result of his work.</div>
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Hudson’s life was full of adventure and service, but also trouble. His family endured typhoons, riots, and fires. They were robbed and maligned, and experienced significant health challenges. He buried more than one of his children in China as well as his first wife. Even so, his adult children followed and continued the work.</div>
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Hudson Taylor’s story has always been an enigma to me. I’m drawn to his daring trust in God and the certainty of his call, yet haunted by the cost those things demanded. I need to understand how such faith develops and continues into the next generation. As I read my pretty red book, I wrestled with the juxtaposition of the deep longings of my momma heart. I pray my children will be brave and follow the call of God into lives of daring satisfaction. But this prayer takes my breath away. I can’t help wanting my children to be safe and have long and peaceful lives.</div>
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<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-5986" height="331" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" src="https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_aliis_sinisalu-01.png?resize=1200%2C630" srcset="https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_aliis_sinisalu-01.png?w=1200 1200w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_aliis_sinisalu-01.png?resize=300%2C158 300w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_aliis_sinisalu-01.png?resize=768%2C403 768w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_aliis_sinisalu-01.png?resize=1024%2C538 1024w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0px auto 24px; max-width: 100%;" width="630" /></div>
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One concern must win out over the other; they aren’t good teammates. I have to choose which fear to heed. I can fear pain and loss, or I can fear missing out on a life of adventure and purpose. If God is who he says he is, the choice is clear. How can I want less than adventure and purpose, even if it comes with sacrifice? If the future demands sacrifice, part of my parenting job must be to prepare my kids to withstand it.</div>
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There is much more to the story God taught me - <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/09/raising-kids-legacy-mind/">continue with me at The Glorious Table.</a></div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-52838775087168831232017-09-11T10:00:00.000-04:002017-09-11T10:00:37.236-04:00Following the Call of Jesus - The Glorious Table<br />
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” ~</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">Martin Luther King, Jr.</span></div>
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“The Christmas trees were huge, all lined up close together with their branches touching each other. And she was just a tiny thing, barely able to walk!”</div>
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The Christmas season isn’t complete without my mom beginning one of her favorite stories with these words.</div>
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The fear in my gut as she tells it must be a phantom feeling born of the forty-plus times I’ve heard the story. Nonetheless, it takes me right back to those pokey branches separating me from the safety of my mom. The only way back to her was through those branches. I froze. Fear blocked my way as surely as the tree. My eyes were screwed shut, so I didn’t know Mom had turned to face me until she spoke. Instead of scooping me up in a rescue, she knelt down and called to me. Her voice encouraged me to venture straight into what made my toddler mind scream, “Danger!” and became louder than the fear.</div>
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<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-6098" height="331" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" src="https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_annie_spratt-01.png?resize=1200%2C630" srcset="https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_annie_spratt-01.png?w=1200 1200w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_annie_spratt-01.png?resize=300%2C158 300w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_annie_spratt-01.png?resize=768%2C403 768w, https://i2.wp.com/theglorioustable.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/florida_annie_spratt-01.png?resize=1024%2C538 1024w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0px auto 24px; max-width: 100%;" width="630" /></div>
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I ran.</div>
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Eyes clamped closed to block out the danger.</div>
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Arms outstretched towards safety.</div>
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Heart pounding, breath short.</div>
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Little legs not able to move fast enough but determined not to stop.</div>
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Branches pushing against me.</div>
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Listening to the voice I trusted.</div>
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Relationship trumps logic. It happened with me and my mom then, and it happens with me and Jesus today.</div>
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<a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/09/devotion-following-call-jesus/">Join me over at The Glorious Table to read the rest.</a></div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-8922796747765409052017-08-29T09:21:00.003-04:002017-08-29T09:21:46.921-04:00How to Beat Your Mom Fears - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1840; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
The stakes were high, and I was a novice. Choosing my firstborn’s school put my beloved son at the mercy of my meager mom skills, and I was desperate to get this right. I couldn’t sleep. Fear had me wrapped in knots. I was afraid of events that hadn’t happened, yet they were haunting me like ghosts.</div>
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I was afraid my son would:</div>
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<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">not be academically challenged</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">not be emotionally safe</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">face peer pressure he wasn’t ready for</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">leave “the bubble” and see darkness in the world</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">not leave “the bubble” and have no impact on the darkness</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">leave “the bubble” too soon or too early</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">have needs that would change after I chose a school</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: disc;">have brothers and sisters whose needs would be different from his</li>
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Being a mom is a serious endeavor. The development of an entire human being is placed in our care. Studies say their little brains are wet cement and will bear hardened imprints of our choices. This weight hangs on our shoulders every day as we wipe noses and mix macaroni and cheese. The fears can be crushing.</div>
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Mom fears multiply and fester when left in the darkness of our own thoughts. Intense love for our kids can cloud our usually sound judgment. We may even aware of our brain fog, which gives us another worry to add to the list!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Follow me over to <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/08/beat-mom-fears/">The Glorious Table</a> for the rest of the story and the antidote I found to Mom fears!</span></div>
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Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1765262856840852293.post-11020522488779967142017-05-20T12:11:00.000-04:002017-05-20T12:11:45.010-04:00Make Kindness Your Mantra - The Glorious Table<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #32004b; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16px; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: 28px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Hearts don’t break around here.” ~Ed Sheeran, singer/songwriter</span></div>
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During spring break I was poolside, soaking in the sun and feeling happy to have a good pair of sunglasses and an engaging book. Sunny music interwove itself with my good feelings, courtesy of my daughter’s newly created spring break playlist. The songs ebbed and flowed around me, largely unnoticed until a certain lyric emerged out of the fluff. The singer crooned, “Hearts don’t break around here,” and I had an epiphany.</div>
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That’s what I want! When people look at me, I want them to see kindness swirling about me like Pig-Pen’s dirt cloud from the cartoon “Peanuts.” I want my heart to create a force field of safety that protects the hearts of anyone who gets close to me. I want to be a giant, walking source of comfort and healing. I want kindness and care to radiate from me like a soothing balm.</div>
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I think it’s clear that being a “hearts don’t break around here” person is also what God wants for me. His Word encourages his people to behave this way from beginning to end. It seems this kind of living was his goal for me all along. The Garden of Eden is a clue that extreme kindness was the original plan. God put two naked people in the garden, and I’m quite sure this wasn’t evidence of poor planning on God’s part but purposeful design. His plan for us was an extreme vulnerability, body and soul. This makes sense in an environment where sin hasn’t been conceived because it’s the recipe for extreme connectedness. Life outside the garden is much different and more dangerous. But as God’s ambassadors of peace, it’s our job to reclaim bits of the garden, carry them around in our hearts, and offer them to others...</div>
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Read more at <a href="http://theglorioustable.com/2017/05/devotion-make-kindness-mantra/">The Glorious Table</a> today!</div>
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<br />Lori Floridahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06702880423888361407noreply@blogger.com0