tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41477508011822338252024-02-18T20:57:36.115-05:00A Happy HeartCharlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-23602781819278530672015-02-17T18:33:00.000-05:002022-04-28T08:31:49.233-04:00Chapter 6 - The Hole<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been far too long since I revisited "A Hole in My Heart." I seem to go through periods of avoidance, I fear, because it's not easy to expose the dark recesses of my soul, especially when I'm so glad they are in the past. Fortunately (I hope) I have one friend in particular who won't let me forget my story totally, because she firmly believes someone else could benefit from hearing it. I pray that is so, because for myself and most of my loved ones, the story is either known or does not need to be known, best left in the past. So here I go, dear Annabeal, for you and for perhaps one other who may stumble upon this blog and learn something about herself, perhaps avoiding or else correcting a misstep like any of mine.]</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"> I remember the
whole scenario as if it happened last week.
Frank and I were wandering around the mall on a Saturday afternoon. Of course I had to stop and look at the
puppies in the pet store-- I always did. My mistake was taking
this one out of its cage for a closer look.
And holding her-- that was what did it. She fit in my two
palms and was all trembly in that spindly-legged, fat-bellied puppy way. I rubbed my face in her downy chocolate hair
growing every-which-way, inhaled her sweet-sour puppy smell, kissed her damp
black nose no bigger than my fingertip.
It was the shiny onyx eyes to which I lost my heart, though. I couldn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span>t
put her down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"> He was generous
then, and so we took her home. I
already had a name, recalled from some novel or French reading I had done. She was "Ne
Touche" ("Don't touch") the perfect complement to our beloved "Touche," the French poodle I would never have dreamed of owning. But he had been a wedding present, and I
loved him like a child-- still the best, smartest, sweetest dog God ever created. And my husband thought he was so wonderful
that we should try to breed him, and so the practical reason for the purchase.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"> We had a glorious
weekend with our new baby. Monday
morning it was hard to leave her and go back to work, but I did, then hurried
home to play with her before taking her to our vet to be checked out and
started on her shots. I can still see
smiling, bespectacled Dr. Robertson-- we trusted him so, and he was happy to see us adding to our brood. His hands reached out to Ne Touche where she
shivered on the examining table. He
scratched behind her ears, as all good vets do, then with both hands grasped
her small body. As quickly as his smile
had appeared, it vanished, and my heart sank as I asked, "What's
the matter?" He said nothing for a moment-- just donned his stethoscope to listen
to her little chest. It seemed an
eternity, yet all too quickly, until removing the stethoscope he looked into my
eyes and spoke softly, "She
has a hole in her heart." Tears flooded my eyes, as they threatened to
fill his. He continued, saying that she
could live a long life or die tomorrow, but that she was definitely not a good
candidate for breeding, as my husband had intended. That was not the first time
I found my heart up against Frank’s head with no chance to win. I was
inconsolable, but of course he was “right.” And so we took her back, and I
mourned, but tried my best to hide my tears (which he said were
“unreasonable.”)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;"> It would not
happen the same way today, I know, but then I was only a child of
twenty-something. Then he was my god and king. Then I didn’t know I had the
same affliction as that little brown dog. The difference was, mine would be
healed.</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
“Come,
let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but He will heal us; He has
injured us but He will bind up our wounds.” (Hosea 6:1)<br>
<br></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
READ:
2 Kings 20:5, Isaiah 19:22<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
PONDER
THIS: Do you have a painful memory that could be a metaphor for a significant
part of your life? What lesson can you learn from it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;"></span>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-32533685823939631702014-12-23T06:15:00.001-05:002014-12-23T06:15:44.174-05:00Celebrating Life 2014<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "\@Batang"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">It’s been a year of
celebrating life for our family</span><span style="font-family: Batang; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">from beginning to end. As the old folk song
goes, “so early, early in the Spring” we were blessed with the arrival of
Carter Rathvon Herring, born to Christian and Andrea March 1. He’s now a happy,
healthy 9-month-old with an infectious smile that never seems to quit! We are
so fortunate to live close-by, so that we’re able to watch his development week
by week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> June brought a milestone that few
are privileged to witness: Charlanne’s Dad, Weldon Fields, hit the century
mark, and it was celebrated in grand fashion with several parties. It all began
June 1 at the Bender Worship Center at Badin Lake, where he amazed everyone by
standing and teaching a meaningful Sunday School lesson. A sumptuous picnic
lunch followed. On his actual birthday, June 8, heavy rains didn’t keep some
150 people from coming to wish him well over a big barbecue dinner at Hagan
Stone Park in Greensboro. His year culminated December 10 when he received the
Congressional Gold Medal for his service in the Civil Air Patrol during World
War II!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> In October we were thrilled to have
an action-filled visit from Lisa, Sam & John, during which Lisa and John
announced their engagement! In a few short days we packed in loads of WET fun
at Great Wolf Lodge, high-flying adventure at Richland Creek Ziplining, and a
relaxing family gathering at the lake house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> This year we also sadly said
good-bye to several loved ones, whose lives were shining examples of living to
serve. Dick Zopf and Don Summers, dear friends from our Chandler’s Grove church
family, brought light into many lives with their ready smiles and kind,
generous hearts. Linda Beaulieu, as long-time reporter and Editor of the Montgomery
Herald, beautifully chronicled many important events in our family history,
from the Bender Worship Center to Christian’s return from Iraq. In the fall
Bill lost his dear Uncle Harold and Charlanne her cousin Cecelia. At the same
time two new cousins were added to the family tree... the circle of life. How
thankful we are to know that we can celebrate that those we have lost from this
earth are now in their eternal home, where we will one day see them again!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> And that is what makes this
“Christmas” the most important celebration of EVERY year! It’s not about the
lights and music, the parties and presents. It’s about life– ONE life– the life
of the One Who gave life in the beginning, and then gave Himself that we could
have life eternal. Without Him– no celebration, no life, no light. With Him,
it’s ALL a celebration!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Joy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Charlanne
& Bill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Break
forth</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT"; font-size: 11.0pt;">, <i>shout
joyfully together, You waste places of Jerusalem; For the Lord has comforted
His people, He has redeemed Jerusalem!” (Isaiah 52:9 NASB) </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Other tidbits:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">- Bill continues to
reign as “King of 160" in ham radio, while working toward becoming an
expert marksman and premier gardener and kraut-maker!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">- Charlanne continues
to sing with Wing and A Prayer, who produced their fourth CD, “Carry Me Away” this
summer. (www.wingandaprayerministry.com)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">- Even though we had
to say good-bye to our eldest four-legged “child” Cassie, a certain Treeing
Walker Coonhound named “Poppy” has taken over our life (and the house) and
(happily) turned it completely upside-down!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-74930186854160167492013-12-16T10:53:00.000-05:002013-12-16T10:54:45.532-05:00<!--[if !mso]>
<style>
v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
.shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
</style>
<![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Print</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:HyphenationZone>46</w:HyphenationZone>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:NoTabHangIndent/>
<w:SubFontBySize/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoTitle">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Christmas Pause, 2013</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoTitle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoTitle">
</div>
<div class="MsoTitle">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> It’s been an unusual year, but then what is usual? In March we mourned
the loss of a dear friend from high school, one whose acquaintance we had
renewed just last summer. In a short time, we shared laughs, fond memories, and
deep conversations enough to make up for the lost years. His death was one of
those unexpected kicks in the stomach that made us weep not just for our own
pain, but even more for that of his wife (also our classmate and life-long
friend) and their family.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Soon thereafter began the wettest spring and summer on
record for North Carolina. Heavy rains poured down without a respite for days
on end; gardens refused even to sprout due to lack of sun and heat. Slowly,
slowly the earth turned green, and then grew more lush than anyone could
remember. Bill counted days and watched the grass grow, searching for a break
in the monsoons long enough to mow. And what a task: pushing the mower through
tall, thick wet grass attached like velcro to the sodden earth, which seemed to
suck at the mower’s wheels like quicksand.
We lived inside and looked sadly out to our dogs who seemed to go into a
morose hibernation.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> May brought
a brief respite from the rain and an unexpected joy with a visit from Lisa and
Sam and the wonderful new man in their life, John! In spite of Sam’s difficult
time with our North Carolina spring pollen, which was super-abundant due to the
unusual rains, we managed to enjoy visiting the fabulous North Carolina Zoo and
the nearby Aviation Museum; feeding the llamas and pygmy zebus at the
always-fun Lazy 5 Ranch; and fishing and lying in the hammock at the lake. We
can hardly believe our Sam will be 7 on December 19! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6Y9KAAETAI9fyRGy4olMeKAygnTarucIZ1Qk9rW4DNYu1mQ3pDQa9hNkZo2VJDtIDcTPji0_B9vzz4fP4gC7FyzqaNTq8Li2qGYi6UQYNGkjrtUzYiumzZ_zYVwU6YZr4Ku8AAe-5e4/s1600/DSC_0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6Y9KAAETAI9fyRGy4olMeKAygnTarucIZ1Qk9rW4DNYu1mQ3pDQa9hNkZo2VJDtIDcTPji0_B9vzz4fP4gC7FyzqaNTq8Li2qGYi6UQYNGkjrtUzYiumzZ_zYVwU6YZr4Ku8AAe-5e4/s320/DSC_0604.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Throughout the year Daddy
continued to battle “the evil c.diff”– in and out of hospitals and rehab
facilities, his body’s struggle to function normally as seemingly bogged down
as the lawnmower in our soggy yard. But in August, a breakthrough! As the
weather slowly returned to a more normal pattern, so through a miraculous
encounter with a God-sent healer a cure was found! Though it’s been around for
decades, its unorthodoxy has perhaps delayed its acceptance, which makes little
sense, since its cure-rate is an extraordinary 92%! In any case, ever since his
fecal transplant (Yes, it’s just what it sounds like!), he has been 100% normal
and back to his routine of teaching Sunday School, “radioing” and gallivanting
all around Greensboro and even to the lake. We are confident he’ll be around to
celebrate the stunning century mark come June 8 of next year!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">About the same time as Daddy’s
turnaround, we received the news that will change our lives FOREVER. We were
all at the lake, including Daddy with his newly healthy gut, when Christian
asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. As soon as I obeyed, he placed
in them a card holding an ultrasound image of his and Andrea’s first child!!!
That’s right– in early March we will welcome into the world Carter Rathvon
Herring! Mother and child are doing extremely well, and proud Papa is about to
bust his buttons! Christian and Andrea recently moved into the parsonage of the
church he pastors, Kendall’s Baptist, which is just about 2 miles from our
house, so Grandma is rather excited herself!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And now about the Christmas paws–
did I spell that right? YES! One sunny day in mid-September Bill looked out
across the field in front of the house to see movement. That’s nothing unusual,
since we frequently see deer, an assortment of large birds, even coyotes around
the pond. But this movement was swifter and caught his eye with its stark black
and white coloring. As it came closer its blaze orange collar showed, and Bill
realized he was seeing someone’s hunting dog, since it was early in the dove
season. He tried shooing the swift, sleek creature away, telling it, “Go back
home!” and “Go find your owner!” but to no avail. By this time she was heading
for our backyard to check out our two rescue dogs, Tut and Cassie. Bill came in
and called my attention to the newcomer, and I joined him in trying to send the
dog away, still to no avail. After a few hours our hearts went out to this
obviously lost creature and we gave her a bit of food and water. At the end of
the day she was still with us, and the next morning we found her curled up on
our back porch. We took her picture and posted it around the community and on
Facebook, knowing someone was missing their beloved hunting dog. After a week,
our hope was waning, but sooner than that Bill’s heart was lost to her. He
began calling her “Poppy” after about 3 days; in a week we had purchased her a
house and taken down the postings. When we took her to the vet to begin her
shots we learned she had heartworms. Neither of us had been through treating a
dog with this life-threatening condition, so we had no idea what was in store.
In brief, the treatment is also life-threatening and requires constant
monitoring, which resulted in Bill breaking his own iron-clad rule of “No Dogs
in the House!” Poppy has now been taken to the beauty parlor by her Dad, and
sleeps wherever she wants in the house, including our bed! (Does anyone need a
very slightly-used igloo dog house???!!!) </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVlaqGyc4AMeXz1LoRggRAyWIM2E0V-cNz9iX_wZy09v1mCjvRRKlzRucQ9skJXblg3HN9Kg1vDYTdVRERQW33wCOdn6J700FO0Hz9LQq31ysR4HecVzjF2I6yDxBRNDWpk2PLgqpZVs/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVlaqGyc4AMeXz1LoRggRAyWIM2E0V-cNz9iX_wZy09v1mCjvRRKlzRucQ9skJXblg3HN9Kg1vDYTdVRERQW33wCOdn6J700FO0Hz9LQq31ysR4HecVzjF2I6yDxBRNDWpk2PLgqpZVs/s320/DSC_0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And
so we’ve decided on a pause this Christmas – choosing more deliberately than
usual which activities will bring the most peace and reflection on the season’s
true meaning. Our gift to each other has four paws – an unexpected but joyous
interruption in our routine and a delightful excuse for spending time together
with a common focus. We intend to revel more in the<i> </i>time we spend with
loved ones rather than scurrying around to find the perfect gift at the mall,
bake the perfect confection or put up the perfect decoration. Most of all, we
are bending our hearts more frequently in gratitude to our Best Friend, Whose
birth we celebrate this holy season.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“A
friend loveth at all times...” (Proverbs 17:17a)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“Friends
are friends forever, if the Lord is the Lord of them</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And
a friend will not say never, cause the welcome will not end ....</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">...
a lifetime's not too long... to live as friends." (Michael W. Smith)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“Greater
love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for His friends.” (John 15:13)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-62975491765878075022013-09-12T07:51:00.000-04:002013-09-12T07:57:40.330-04:00Chapter 5 - Time to Be Married<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I had<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>had <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>sweethearts<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> since first grade<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> in reality just friends of the
opposite sex to call <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>mine<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> for a brief time. In high school I
experienced my first love<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
a dear friend from church whom I dated until I left for college. Our dates were
usually with our whole group of friends<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
to the bowling alley or a movie, or just going to Youth Fellowship and then a <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>drive-in<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span>
(the eating kind, not the movie kind!). I broke up with Steve when I went away
to college, from some perverse sort of reasoning that we would no longer have
anything in common. Yet he continued to be my best friend, the one I called
when things got difficult at school, or when I felt lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was devastated when he told me he was
dating someone else, but eventually they married and I got over my loss, moving
on to <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>smarter<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> guys from my university.</div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
It was in college, I
suppose not surprisingly, that another world began to open up before me, ways
of thinking I had to this point been protected from, the world of intellectual
curiosity where the Enemy is so likely to attack our belief systems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continued to go to church and participate
wholeheartedly in Baptist Student Union, and most of my friends and dates were
still more like me than not. Though I was almost always on the sidelines of the
<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>in crowd<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span>
and their parties and activities, I began to crave the adventure that my more
sophisticated peers seemed to be having.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Within my own circle of friends I was confident, just as I had been with
my church group in high school; outside this circle I was wide-eyed and
insecure. I was ripe to be swept off my feet by someone more worldly and
seemingly wise, who offered the excitement and adventure of the unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t really choose Frank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t
even notice him across the dimness of the coffee house on the top floor of the college library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heaven only knows
what made him pick me out<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
probably the bright tangerine tent dress I was wearing, or maybe the huge mound
of acrylic <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>hair<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> piled on top of my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can I say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the sixties!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
at age twenty I was more naive than today<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
eight-year-old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had had plenty of
dates with <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>nice<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> guys who were vastly more suited to me
than Frank. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of sameness,
though, I craved adventure, and there was no one more exciting and different
from me than Frank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was brash,
self-confident, and loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And because
he thought he was wise, and I <i>knew</i> I was naive, who was I to question
his self-assurance? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Soon, before I had
any idea what was happening, he was telling me not only what was right or
wrong, but what to think, how to dress, talk, act, even what to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many times did I go back to my dorm room
and repeat the words he had put in my mouth to my roommate, or go home and
regurgitate his words to my parents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How shocked my friends and family must have been to hear such new and
radical thoughts come from my mouth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The long and short
of it is, even though the only thing in me that responded positively to Frank
was my hormones, even though little about our relationship felt <i>good</i>, it
felt <i>normal</i> and therefore <i>right, </i>because like my father and my
brother, even professors, he seemed so superior to me, so worldly, wise and <i>in
control</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And feeling so naive and
stupid, a sentiment he took every opportunity to reinforce in me, I suppressed
every <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>gut<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> feeling, every instinct that was my
God-given legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart aches even
now for the lost joy and innocence, for the pain I caused my parents and ultimately
myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
We dated through
my junior year, typical collegiate dates: basketball and football games,
movies, concerts, family visits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
proud to be on the arm of someone so intelligent, even though his harshness
hurt me and my parents and didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t
really impress my long-time friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was graduating and heading for law school there on the same campus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was impressed by his family<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s wealth and worldliness: his father
was a New York City executive, and the family lived in a beautiful Connecticut
suburb. How flattering that someone like this could have an interest in
me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And besides, it was the end of
junior year<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> <b><i>all
</i></b>the girls were hearing wedding bells!</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">We were engaged at the beginning of my senior year;
we married one week after I graduated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was certainly not all bad, because we found common ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The happiest times were traveling, something
I have continued to enjoy all my life. He even began going to church with me,
and seemed to take a serious interest in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But if I had looked then, I am sure I would have seen the black hole,
the hole in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years,
though, I was just aware of the fear</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"> fear of failure myself (just as I always felt I
never quite measured up to the other men in my life), fear of displeasing Frank
(because of the shame he poured out on me), fear of his unfaithfulness (because
I knew I was a disappointment to him).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew more and more depressed, felt more
and more hopelessly caught in the web of my own powerlessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By giving over the reins of my life to
another human being, I had taken them out of God</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;">s
hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of being wrapped in the
loving arms of my Heavenly Father, I had let myself be trapped in the cocoon of
control I had allowed Frank to spin around me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“For the sinful
nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary
to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not
do what you want.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Galatians 5:17)</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">READ:
Romans 11:32, Luke 16:13</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">PONDER
THIS: Examine your heart for a major act of rebellion in your life which had
serious consequences. Can you see times God tried to speak to you and you
ignored His whisper? If you have not already, you can repent of your rebellion
right now, as I had to do myself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;">MUSIC FOR YOUR MEDITATION: </span><br />
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span> <iframe allowfullscreen="true" height="26" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=adk8698m&t=1378986497" style="border: none;" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="54"></iframe></div>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-36814773617410554312013-06-06T11:00:00.000-04:002013-09-12T07:57:21.249-04:00Chapter 4 - Assembly by the Sea<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
My teen years were as
carefree and happy as I believe God intended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My passion for Jesus was fanned to a roaring blaze, not only by my
church, but especially by the North Carolina Baptist Assembly, the <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>Assembly by the Sea<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> at Fort Caswell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember my first glimpse of this special
place as vividly as if it were just yesterday rather than over fifty years ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I was twelve years
old, and felt as grown-up as at least a sixteen-year-old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents had agreed to drive a carload of
pre-teens to the assembly grounds on the North Carolina coast, where the youth would
spend a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going along for the
ride, but never considered asking to stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At this point in my life I was <u>painfully</u> shy, and so was content
to ride along and then return home with my parents, likely stopping along the
way as my father made calls on the textile mills to which he sold
supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a great treat for my
mother and me to accompany Daddy on these trips during the summer, gliding in
the big shiny Buick company car along<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>blue highways,<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span>
stopping in the small mill towns he visited regularly. We<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>d<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>spend the night in a modest <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>motor
inn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> where there were always tiny soaps
wrapped in interesting paper for me to collect as souvenirs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Somehow, though,
by the time this particular day-long drive was completed, I had bonded with the
other children in our car. Before we arrived at the coast, I had overcome my
shyness and was begging to stay for the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Driving through the big iron gates of the North Carolina Baptist
Assembly, I was immediately enthralled with the spartan white wood buildings
clustered inside the old red brick Civil War fortifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe it was just the smell of the sea,
the taste of salt when I licked my lips, and the whispering of the wind in the
sea oats that hypnotized me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever
the reason, with the two dresses and two sets of underwear I had packed for the
overnight trip, I joyously spent an idyllic week that would help mold my
teen-aged passion for Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
summer thereafter I would look forward to that most special week at Ft.
Caswell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reveled in the <u>Bible</u>
study, the Christian fellowship and the awe-inspiring vesper services at sunset
atop the fort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I needed to find
work my first two summers in college, I was <i>thrilled</i> to be allowed to
join the staff, never minding rising before dawn to make jello and slaw, or
working in the mid-day heat to sweep the sandy dormitory floors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I recently had the
opportunity to drive through Fort Caswell after some forty years away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much has changed, but somehow the sweet
spirit echoed down the years in my heart and brought tears of nostalgia to my
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Climbing atop the fort to gaze on
the wooden cross that was still silhouetted against an azure sea, I could
almost hear the sweet strains of Joey Overby’s trumpet floating on the soft
breeze. In my <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>Senior
Autobiography<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> written
for school when I was seventeen, I confessed, <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>Three
years ago on these sacred grounds [Fort Caswell] I dedicated my life to
full-time Christian service....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
become more aware of God<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
eternal presence with me....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To know
that my Heavenly Father is guiding me and that my life is in His hands erases
all need for any other means of security.<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, then, the real cause of my tears
was the deep-seated memory of the precious innocence of that time, an innocence
I soon lost and yet have now regained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I thank God that those days were not totally erased from my memory, and
that His grace and mercy are great enough to have restored the passion of my
youth.<i> </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“Remember your
Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the
years approach when you will say, “I find no pleasure in them”.” (Ecclesiastes
12:1)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
READ:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psalm 95: 1-7, Psalm 100</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
PONDER THIS: Can you remember a
time when you were more passionate about your faith than you are today? Ask God
to remind you of that passion and restore it right now.<br />
MUSIC FOR YOUR MEDITATION: </div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="true" height="25" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=adt9yckt&t=1370530622" style="border: none;" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="151"></iframe>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-2262999007229388322013-05-29T07:59:00.001-04:002013-05-29T07:59:07.941-04:00Lovin' Tellin' The Story: When was the last time you pulled a Daniel?Please check out Christian's blog! <br />
<br />
<a href="http://lovintellinthestory.blogspot.com/2013/05/when-was-last-time-you-pulled-daniel.html">Lovin' Tellin' The Story: When was the last time you pulled a Daniel?</a>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-43262092145653747272013-04-30T15:28:00.000-04:002013-09-12T07:58:10.077-04:00Chapter 3 - The Lake<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 200%; mso-layout-grid-align: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: .5in; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric ideograph-other;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was just six years old when I
first laid eyes on the thickly wooded lot leading down to</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
the rocky lake shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did I care except that I loved the
water and the woods?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next thing I knew
Mama, Daddy, my brother and I were camping out on the spot in a tiny tin can trailer. The men (my father and grandfather and uncles) worked all day long laying the concrete blocks that would become our lake house and
my cousins’ right next door. While my mother cooked to keep the men well-fed, I busied
myself gathering pretty red holly berries and “cooking” pine bark “bacon” over
a miniature rock fire-pit. Each night we’d fall asleep listening to
whip-poor-wills calling and mountain lions screaming across the water. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The houses were
finished by the next summer, and soon there was a dock out front with sporty wooden
boat tied to it. Weekends became filled with the high whine of the old green
Evinrude outboard mingled with the squeals of cousins and friends echoing off
the brown water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I'm sure
our parents grew tired of the monotonous tunes of "Found
A Peanut" and "She'll
Be Comin' 'Round
the Mountain" that
accompanied us on all boat rides! </span><br />
Hot summer afternoons were cooled down with two special treats. When we kids heard the unmistakable "CRACK!" of a cold watermelon being opened on
the picnic table under the trees, we'd climb out of the water and dive into a hunk of the sweet fruit until our faces and arms were pink with the juice, then plunge back into the lake to rinse off. For high adventure sometimes our parents would put the green globe into a cooler with ice and carry us all in the boat to "Turkey Island" for a watermelon picnic! Other days, we'd hope that a boat ride would end up at Mr. Beatty's marina, where Daddy would bring all
us kids an icy orange "push-up" to dribble down our chins on the way
home. By evening, when we were nice and
sticky, we'd grab a
towel and a bar of Ivory soap (""It
floats!") and head to the lake for our Saturday night bath, with the adults joining in the fun!</div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
There was just one
difficulty for all of us: the only time we could enjoy our special place was on
weekends, and that meant missing church
on Sundays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon the problem was solved
when my Daddy got together with some of the other new property owners and
decided to meet under the trees by the lake and have Sunday School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, if it was raining, we'd just sit in someone's car, often Daddy's big<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Buick company car, because it was the roomiest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before long, one of the men brought along an
old portable pump organ, and my Mama would sit on a stump and work her short slender legs,
playing the hymns that we all knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
As word spread and houses bloomed like wildflowers over the ragged lakeshore, our numbers increased enough to purchase a lot and build a shelter. We named it the John R. Bender Worship Center, in honor of one of our beloved teachers, who has since gone on to be with the Lord. We sit on hand-hewn
wooden benches, made lovingly by some of the men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There's a tin roof
over our heads and a nice concrete floor and electricity to run the overhead
fans and the sound system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Eventually our congregation </span>grew so that on big holidays (Fourth of July, Labor Day) we'd have as many as four hundred gathered under the trees to worship. Several years ago an addition was built and named "The Fields Pavilion" to honor my sweet parents who dedicated so much of their lives to this special place. Sadly, in recent years the crowds have dwindled as our interests seem to have turned to more worldly pursuits, such as jet-skiing and tubing behind monster power boats. But some
things will never change: we still sing the same old favorite hymns, and there
are no walls or windows to keep out the rustling of the breeze in the trees or
the birdsongs that add to the music.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
My Sanctuary</div>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
My sanctuary is simple--<br />
No walls and windows hath it<br />
To keep a solitary soul<br />
Either within or without.<br />
<br />
Its choir is winged and feathered, <br />
Its hours have no limits or bounds.<br />
Its Pastor is The Good Shepherd,<br />
His flock comes from all around.<br />
<br />
My sanctuary is simple--<br />
'Tis but a bright spot in the wood;<br />
But oh how my heart has been blessed from the start<br />
By the times in this temple I've stood.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
-- Charlanne Fields, 1968</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; mso-padding-alt: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="padding: 0in 5.4pt; text-align: center; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"></td><td style="padding: 0in 5.4pt; text-align: left; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><br /></td><td style="padding: 0in 5.4pt; text-align: left; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><br /></td><td style="padding: 0in 5.4pt; text-align: center; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><br /></td><td style="padding: 0in 5.4pt; text-align: justify; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="319"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 2.0in;">
“How
lovely is Your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.”
(Psalm 84:1-2)</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">READ:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Psalm 8</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">PONDER THIS:</span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> In a poem, or just a paragraph, describe
the place you feel closest to God. Then stop and thank Him for His wonderful
creation.</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">MUSIC FOR YOUR MEDITATION: </span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></i></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="true" height="25" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=ahjqof8m&t=1367349435" style="border: none;" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="151"></iframe>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-63118385483122968662013-04-06T12:58:00.000-04:002013-04-29T17:58:37.386-04:00Chapter 2 - Asheboro Street Asheboro Street Baptist Church was more to me than music: it was where I first met Jesus. I truly have no memory of not knowing Him. Not everyone has been so blessed, I know, but that doesn't mean He has not always been there beside you, waiting at the door to be let in. I have no idea why He chose to give me the life I've had; I certainly have done nothing to deserve all this grace. But that's why they call it grace-- it's not deserved.<br />
<br />
Some of my earliest memories are sitting in little wooden chairs that scraped noisily on the dull linoleum floors of the Sunday School room. The light filtered through bumpy glass windows to illuminate the teacher and the flannel board on which she placed images of the characters she talked about from her Bible. I saw a golden straw basket placed among the "bullrushes." (They looked like the cattails decorating my grandfather's pond.) I was told the basket contained the baby Moses, who would lead the children of Israel from Egypt back to their homeland. I saw a beautiful young lady in blue robes riding a donkey to a stable where she would give birth to the baby Jesus, who would die on a cross for my sins. I LOVED this baby, because He gave His sweet, perfect life for me, so I could go to heaven to live with God. When I sang "Jesus Loves Me" I never thought to doubt it: I accepted it like I accepted my parents' love for me.<br />
<br />
I was, for the most part, a good, obedient child who followed the Ten Commandments to the best of my understanding. In church, I watched reverently as people went into the pool behind the altar in our sanctuary, were plunged into the water and came up dripping and beaming. Each time in my mind I was in the water with them and came up with a new joy in my heart. When I was age seven, one Sunday evening service as Preacher Parker gave the invitation to come to the altar and I sang the hymn along with the congregation, I felt a burning come over my body as tangible as the high fevers I had often experienced. It was as if a great invisible hand came down and urged me out of my seat, propelled me down the aisle to the feet of my waiting pastor. I KNEW, as much as a seven-year-old could know, that I was the sinner that my precious Jesus died for, and I wanted everyone to know I belonged to HIM. It was as if all the shame of my future life was made known to me for a brief moment, and I knew I needed to claim His forgiveness right then.<br />
<br />
<i> “Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”” (Matthew 19:14) </i><br />
<br />
READ: Matthew 18:2-5<br />
<br />
PONDER THIS: Recall when you first heard about Jesus. What did you feel? Did you give Him your life?<br />
<br />
(PLEASE NOTE: If you are enjoying the music, there's a link on the right to our website, where you can read more about this wonderful group I am privileged to sing with, Wing and A Prayer. You can purchase our CDs on iTunes and Amazon, as well!)<br />
<br />
MUSIC FOR YOUR MEDITATION: <iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="25" scrolling="no" seamless="seamless" src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=atc8vimp&wmode=window&bgcolor=FFFFFF&t=1365264991" width="151"></iframe>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-23204684924056512462013-03-17T18:17:00.000-04:002013-03-20T08:57:19.292-04:00Chapter 1 - The First Nine Years<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
You can see it in
pictures when I was small<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
a wispy-haired blond with pale blue eyes always looking off to the side as if
listening for angels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, I wouldn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t have said so then<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> just that perhaps it was the
alone-ness that made me different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
my first nine years we lived in the country, no other children close by, so I
played mostly by myself with my dolls, building imaginary houses, making up
tuneless songs with simple, rhyme-less words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My childhood was otherwise as <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>normal<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> as anyone<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s,
or at least I thought so then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
asthma kept me from being as active as some, but it was all I knew, so I didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Daddy was my first
Prince Charming. Stunningly handsome even now in his nineties, back then with
his thick mane of black hair and dashing moustache he was aptly nicknamed <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>Clark Gable.<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tall and slender, too, he truly looked the
part, especially when he donned his gray felt Homburg hat. It was post-World
War II, and we were far from wealthy, but we had a home full of love, and my
father provided for his family admirably by being a traveling salesman. I
mostly respected (and probably a little bit feared) my father from afar, because
he was so often absent-- and when he came home, the administrator of
discipline!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I never doubted my father<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
love for me, yet I constantly found myself seeking his approval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span>I associate him with
three things in my youth: ham radio, a new Buick company car every two years,
and taking the family to church every Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember hearing about the church orchestra
Daddy played in and directed before World War II took him off to the Civil Air
Patrol, and some of my most vivid childhood memories take me back to adult
choir rehearsal on Thursday nights. On Sunday mornings I would sit with an
adult friend while Mama played the beautiful old pipe organ<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and Daddy waved his arms in the choir loft
above me, the two of them creating ethereal music for God’s ears. The Christmas
cantatas they led still play in the soundtrack of my memory , as fresh as the
pungence of the pine boughs we gathered on my grandfather’s farm to decorate
the church the Saturday before Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I loved helping arrange the lights and red bows that adorned the stained-glass
windows. </div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
My mother was my constant
companion and caretaker, and as soon as I went to school so did she, as a
school secretary and later a teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mama got me up every morning and took me to school where she worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the bell rang at the end of the day, I
would join her in the office until her day ended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>d
proceed home, sometimes stopping at the A&P for groceries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was her little helper-- whether it was
putting <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>blueing<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> in the old wringer washing machine,
running sheets and pillowcases through the <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>mangle<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> or fixing us dinner on the big
electric stove--until she tucked me in at night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Today she would
have been called a <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>super-mom,<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> a liberated woman for the 1950s,
because she did it all, from running the household day in and day out to
driving her own column-shift Nash Rambler to work every day!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>m
sure I didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t
appreciate all she accomplished, because to me it was an embarrassment that my
clothes, beautiful as they were, were homemade, as were our curtains and
slipcovers and my dolls<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>
clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On top of all this, she helped
look after her own parents and sisters, and kept my father and teen-aged
brother happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And somehow she also<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>managed to entertain several of my cousins
and an occasional neighbor<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
child, once in a while taking<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>us all to
Youth Fellowship or Vacation Bible School. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The other male in
my life was my brother Charles, who was ten years old when I was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As with my father, then, I always admired
him from afar, and he probably has no idea to this day how involved in his life
I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than being either my best
friend or my arch-enemy, as often happens with siblings closer in age, my
brother became my idol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s an old black-and-white photograph
(which Charles probably developed in his darkroom in our upstairs) that brings
back such fond memories with me in my child<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
rocking chair sitting beside my brother talking on his ham radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
When I was small,
I had a vicarious adolescence through Charles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember the excitement when he began to drive and polish his <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>cool<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span>
cars in our driveway, and I had terrible crushes on his friends who came to our
house. The music in our home didn<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t
fail to influence him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still
hear the haunting notes coming from his gleaming brass trumpet, the sound as
graceful as the curves of the instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whether he was playing at church or in the high school marching band I
must have beamed like the light flashing off the trumpet, I was so proud of my
big brother!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I suppose I will
never know which was the greater influence on my later years<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> the music that filled so much of my
young life or the six years of piano lessons I was forced to take as a
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the cause, I don<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t remember a time when my head was not
filled with music nearly every waking minute (and many sleeping minutes!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet I do not consider myself an accomplished
musician by any stretch of the imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can read notes on a page, yet if I ever knew much theory, most of it
is lost to me now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no gift for
creating musical combinations or even playing an instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My gift is an ear for harmony, and for the
harmony of words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps more than
anything it was all those early years of going to choir practice with my
parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly, singing in choirs
and musical groups has been my passion since my youth, and I have been
privileged to sing with many excellent choirs under several gifted
directors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For all of these blessings
of music God placed in my life, I shall never be able to express my gratitude,
but most of all to my parents I wish to extend my deepest thanks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in;">
<i>“Since my
youth, O God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare Your marvelous
deeds.” (Psalm 71:17)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 200%; mso-layout-grid-align: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: .5in; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric ideograph-other;">
READ:
Proverbs 31:30, Proverbs 22:6</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">PONDER THIS: Take as much time as you need to think
and write about your important familial relationships, the people you grew up
around, and those that are important to you now. Try to see threads that have
come together to make you the person you are today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">MUSIC FOR YOUR MEDITATION: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="25" scrolling="no" seamless="seamless" src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=auj8oa8m&wmode=window&bgcolor=ffffff&t=1363631187" width="151"></iframe></span>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-45222393758668744322013-03-04T10:31:00.000-05:002013-03-20T08:55:52.105-04:00A Hole in My Heart - Introduction<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in;">
Dear Reader,<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
This book is
dedicated to my family, which as all families do, has changed over the years
and is ever-changing still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one ever
drops out<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> once you<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>re there, you<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>re
always there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course my parents,
husband, son, brother, in-laws, cousins, aunts and uncles are there. And a host of
friends who are as close as relatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But so are you, if I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>ve
ever met you, or even just sat beside you on an airplane, passed you on the
sidewalk, read one of your books or listened to your song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even if we<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>ve
never met, or never do, I consider you family, and I wish I could look every
one of you in the eye and tell you this one thing. But then, I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>m only human, so this the only way I
know how to let you know, if you happen to be on the other side of the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here it is, this one thing I
know: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
GOD LOVES YOU MORE THAN YOU CAN EVER IMAGINE!</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent2">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“For
God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” –John 3:16
(KJV)</span></i><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This
is my story, but it’s not really intended to be about me. I write it only to
help <b>you</b> write your <b>own</b> story, even though yours will not be the
same as mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each chapter concludes
with a Scripture and a journal question.
Please read the Scripture selections prayerfully before taking all the time you need to answer
the questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recommend that you try
to complete only one chapter per day, as it is my hope that each one will evoke
healing thoughts about your own life.</div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">
Also, please be assured that each one who reads
these words has already been lifted up in prayer for at least as much healing
as I have received during this process. You must remember, too, that not one of
us is ever finished learning and growing as long as we breathe. My journey is
certainly not over with this book, but hopefully at its conclusion both of us
can say we have made great strides along the way,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Finally, forever
and always, TO GOD BE THE GLORY!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
INTRODUCTION: GRACE
THAT AMAZES</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I used to think I
was somewhere between <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>different<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> and <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>just
plain weird.<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never felt like I really fit in or
belonged-- anywhere except sitting in the golden light in the field of dried grass
behind our house, or in the soft, fragrant embrace of the pine forest across
the road from the lake cottage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I
know that makes me just like everybody else<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
touched with more grace and mercy than I deserve. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I once believed
that I could see things more clearly, feel things more deeply than others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as a child I shed tears over a
beautiful sunset or the salty taste of the ocean on my lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew without a shadow of a doubt God was
speaking to me through the elements of His awesome creation. I somehow sensed
these were miraculous evidences of His love for us all, just hints of His
greatest miracle of eternal life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my
child-like way I felt that absolutely nothing was <span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span>coincidence,<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span> but rather all part of an exquisite,
perfect plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Now, of course, I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>ve come to realize that this awareness
is there for us all, if we just open our eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>ve also
come to understand that I can<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>t
MAKE you see any more than someone else could make me see when I was
blinded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blinded by the world, my own
fleshly desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is, after all, a
gift from God, eventually given to all who SEEK<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span>
that is the key. </div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 200%;">
My deepest
longing, now that I have discovered the key, is to share it with EVERYONE<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">B</span></span> that<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s
why I<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>m
writing, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could, I would
open your head and your heart and just pour it in, this knowing, but that<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">=</span></span>s not how it works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to do it for yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, though, by reading my story, you
might at least want to open the door, look in the mirror, begin to open your
eyes, too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“The heavens
declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” Psalm
19:1)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
READ:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>John 1:16</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
PONDER THIS: Today, try to see
God’s grace and mercy wherever you go—in a butterfly, a sunset, a green light
when you’re in a hurry, a stranger’s smile. Record your observation, and more
importantly, what you felt.<br />
MUSIC TO MEDITATE BY: </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "\@MingLiU"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span><iframe src="http://files.podsnack.com/iframe/embed.html?hash=axn8gjkt&wmode=window&bgcolor=FFFFFF&t=1363631601" width="151" height="25" seamless="seamless" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowtransparency="true"></iframe>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-84293440017909424832013-03-04T10:30:00.001-05:002013-03-04T10:30:24.160-05:00Spring Forward<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> In just a few days we'll be moving our clocks ahead, as days are growing noticeably longer and trees are beginning to bud. Some of us have the sniffles from that annoying pollen that is required to produce the beautiful rainforest we North Carolinians inhabit. Daffodils are already brightening the dull landscape of winter with their sunny yellow faces. Many folks are looking ahead to summer vacation. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I confess to you here and now I am forcing myself to press forward on a project that has been heavy on my heart for several years. I have begun it, put it down, picked it up, put it down I don't even know how many times over the past six years, at least. Steadily, however, it has progressed toward what I feel is completion, until at last I believe I am ready to share it with at least my little part of the world.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I must thank my writer friend and mentor, Judy Colbert, for giving me the idea to share it in this space. Judy, I believe you were the mouth of God "whispering" in my ear through your encouraging e-mail. I will be happy to report to you this week I've taken my first step in publishing the book He has laid on my heart.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I won't promise how frequently a chapter will appear, although I often claim to be "a completion person" -- once a project is begun I <i>usually</i> am eager to finish it (with the obvious exception of this one!). I also (with a <i>wee</i> bit of trepidation!) invite you to share with friends, AND to comment either on the blog or e-mail me with constructive criticism, either positive or negative. In other words, you are my "test group" or "reading group" and I WELCOME your comments. I <i>truly</i> wrote every word of this with the purpose of helping someone else, not for the joy of talking about myself. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Almost from the beginning I saw this as a sort of guided journaling exercise, with my story serving to stimulate introspection in the reader, and so I suggest you read with pen and paper (even better, a notebook!) at hand. You'll also need a <i><u>Bible</u></i>. At best, I hope to encourage growth and perhaps even avoidance of some of the pits I fell into. At the very least, I want you, the reader, to be encouraged about your walk of faith, to understand that a loving God has been with you every step of the way. But now I'm jumping into my introduction, so I will simply say, let us begin our journey together as I share with you <i><u>A Hole in My Heart</u></i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
THANK YOU for traveling with me!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Charlanne</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Who are my mother and my brothers?" He asked. Then He looked at those seated in a circle around Him and said, "Here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God's will is my brother and sister and mother." (Mark 3:33-34, </i>NIV<i>)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> "Keep in loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. " (Hebrews 13:1-2 </i>NIV<i>) </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another</i>; <i>be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate</i> <i>and humble." (1 Peter 3</i>:<i>8, </i>NIV<i>)</i> </div>
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-33827543114665230762012-12-28T17:14:00.000-05:002013-03-20T08:59:00.747-04:00A Season for Miracles<br />
I wonder how often all of us have missed witnessing a miracle simply for lack of opening our eyes? Do we think the time for miracles ended with the final words of Revelation? Or perhaps with the death of the prophet Jeremiah? I’m not even speaking of the daily wonders of each sunrise, new life, each breath we take, the love shining from another’s eyes. I have been strikingly reminded these last months of 2012 that God is still working miracles today, if we simply ask and believe.<br />
Jean was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in late spring– “convenient” timing since she is a teacher. Surgery and radiation took place during her summer break, allowing for recovery time before the fall re-opening of school. All went well, except that Jean experienced one of the forewarned complications: one of her vocal cords was paralyzed from the surgery, and by mid-August she still had no voice. Prayers for her were intensified, and every morning she awoke and tried her voice with only a whisper resulting from her efforts. One week before school started she awoke and did the usual vocal test, and much to her delight a sound came out amazingly resembling her normal voice! At her scheduled doctor’s follow-up appointment a few days later, a scope was inserted in her throat and her doctor was stunned to see that her vocal cord was still paralyzed! The man of medicine could only say, “I can’t explain it. You shouldn’t be able to talk!” Jean replied, “Oh I can!” with a great big smile. She’s back at school teaching her fifth grade class with her miracle voice!<br />
Jeff has been battling a very rare form of lymphoma, called Waldenstrom’s. He has other health conditions which make treatment very complicated and difficult. He had exhausted all avenues except for a trial at Dana-Farber in Boston. He was accepted for screening and went to Boston to complete qualification for the trial. I can’t possibly explain all the numbers and their significance, but anyone who knows anyone who has been treated for any type of cancer knows the importance of various “numbers.” The next to last day of the week-long screening one of Jeff’s numbers was off-the-charts WRONG to qualify him. A request for prayers went out as the doctor gave him a last-ditch effort shot hoped to improve that number. The next morning the last hopeful vial of blood was drawn and tested. The results: off-the-charts POSITIVE, qualifying Jeff for the trial. After approximately six weeks of the trial drug, Jeff’s numbers are steadily improving, meaning that the new drug appears to be working!<br />
Daddy (a strapping 210-pound, mentally sharp age 98) went in the hospital with pneumonia November 26. He was treated with mega-IV antibiotics, and after a week released to go to rehab to regain his strength. Almost immediately he began experiencing severe diarrhea and loss of appetite. He grew weaker and weaker and finally was refusing to take even any liquid nourishment. My brother and I had gone every day to try to encourage him to eat ANYTHING, to no avail. Sunday, December 11, having lunch with friends after church, everyone was asking about Daddy and I described what was happening. My friend Linda said, “It sounds like C. diff.” (Clostridium difficile, one of the new “super-bugs” caused by taking too many antibiotics.) “What’s that?” I asked. Bill immediately looked it up on the internet and concurred that those were exactly his symptoms. Christian volunteered to take me to Greensboro, and so we went. I spoke to Daddy’s nurse about C. diff, and he said he didn’t think that was it. The next morning Daddy seemed even weaker and more distressed. I insisted Daddy be seen by the doctor and be given IV fluids at least. Meanwhile a urinary infection had been discovered: more antibiotics. The test for C.Diff. was done, but results would not be in for a day or two. All the while, before my very eyes Daddy worsened. I decided he must go to the hospital, where he was tested IMMEDIATELY for C.diff with IMMEDIATE positive results. He began treatment in hospital and was transferred back to rehab in a few days, where he is slowly gaining strength and beginning to eat limited solid food. I KNOW God spoke through Linda to set us on the right track for Daddy’s healing! <br />
My miracle was one of the heart. I can’t even say how long I have asked God to help me love, I mean truly love, this person who is important to me, yet so different in many ways. I have loved her with His love, of course, yet we remained distant by more than the miles that separate us. Each time I see her, I offer the same prayer, and each time it has been the same– not unpleasant for the most part, but not the warmth I have longed for for many years. It changed this time– I can’t say exactly how or when. I only know that the night before we parted I cried because I knew it would be a long time before we would be together again. The next day I cried as soon as she was out of sight and all the way to the airport. I cry even now as I write, but these tears are in humble thanksgiving to God for this gift of love, this answered prayer, the one I perhaps believed in the least. But isn’t that just how we are, thinking miracles are for other folks but not ourselves?<br />
Our miracle is much like mine described above, but of course on a much grander scale. It came for you and for me and for every other human being who has ever lived. Like mine, it is a Gift of Love, the Greatest Love ever given to humankind. Like mine, it was long-anticipated, but probably never really expected, certainly not in the way it came. You very likely know the story, because we’ve just spent millions of dollars, dozens of hours, untold amounts of energy and weeks of planning the annual celebration of This Love, this gift of mercy unprecedented. This arrival of our Creator God Himself in human form among us – a tiny Jewish baby in a humble stable in an insignificant town in Israel – could have gone unnoticed EXCEPT this town, these stables, were the very spot where the perfect lambs for the temple sacrifice were raised! Where else could the Perfect, FINAL Sacrifice for all the sins of the world be born? Does that fact take your breath away as much as it does mine? I feel like I could BURST with excitement over the knowledge of this Good News! Makes me want to do a happy dance and sing and shout all at the same time! <br />
You know, this may have been a difficult Christmas for you, as it was for me. Things aren’t so great in our world right now, and my world was a little less than perfect this Christmas with Daddy between the hospital and the nursing home, but when I gaze at my Christmas tree covered with lights and stars and think of the light of that first Christmas star, I can’t help smiling. At the center of my tree, all decorated in white, is one red, heart-shaped ornament with one word on it: JESUS. Oh, I know that wasn’t His name in Hebrew, but it’s how we think of Him today. My Christmas wish for everyone reading this is that you know His perfect love, that you accept His perfect gift of love, even though none of us deserve it. That’s why they call it “grace.”<br />
<br />
<i>"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8 NIV)</i> <a href="http://www.israelvideonetwork.com/i-believe-in-miracles-pey-dalid?t=I%20Believe%20in%20Miracles%20%E2%80%93%20Pey%20Dalid"></a>Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-14768380364078358292012-09-05T16:39:00.000-04:002013-03-20T09:01:13.001-04:00Persimmon Fall Sometimes I think God sends the persimmons when He wants to hear from me more frequently. There's something about gathering those beautiful and luscious orbs that makes me break into paeans of praise. Of course I know that they come the same time each year, even though it seems lately they fall sooner and sooner. Perhaps that's just my age speaking -- time really DOES speed up the older you get!<br />
By all accounts, I should be somewhat sorry when it begins to happen: first, it's undeniable evidence of the carefree, unscripted summer's ending. Even though autumn is my favorite time of year -- the crisp weather, beautiful colors, pungent fragrance -- there's some intangible sense of ending that brings an inexplicable touch of sadness to my soul. Secondly, something in me feels OBLIGATED to pick them up, which is a backbreaking, messy job, which leads in turn to more backbreaking, messy work in the kitchen preparing them for use. And third, the shorter, darker days of winter, which inevitably bring sickness and much time spent indoors, are always difficult for me.<br />
Nevertheless, today my soul is singing happy songs thanks to the persimmons. They provide a feast for ALL the senses, a surprisingly sensual fruit in my estimation. First comes the visual treat of watching them appear in mid-summer, tiny green spheres hidden among dusty emerald leaves in a nondescript tall, skinny tree. I can't even say what their flowers look like, they are so insignificant. But watching the fruit develop is a joy-- they seem to inflate quite rapidly from pea-sized to full-blown (approximately 1-2 inches in diameter). And soon the pale green merges into shades of yellow, gold and orange that reminds me of carnelian stones. On the ground, their rusty watercolors are punctuated by their dark brown calyx, the remains of the four-lobed flower which has gone unnoticed.<br />
I know my persimmon days will begin soon when I hear the "Plop-plop" of the first fruit falling. It may be a late summer rain shower, or a sudden breeze that brings them down, but whatever the cause, I smile at the sound. And soon I'm heading to the garage to dig out the tarps that will capture them. Next comes the indescribable fragrance: so spicy-sweet it tickles your nose until ungathered ones begin to ferment under the trees. Those are the ones I leave for the bees and ants-- why be a glutton? <br />
A fastidious person (which I am not) would probably not relish gathering persimmons. I frankly enjoy handling the tender, squishy fruit, perhaps simply because I know that the best ones are quite soft, which means they often fall apart into soft shapeless blobs which soon turn gluey on my fingers. Scrubbing my hands with a rough sponge or cloth is a small price to pay for the reward. <br />
Which brings me to the delectable taste that resembles nothing else I can think of. Persimmons often suffer the undeserved reputation of being sour until combined with sugar. On the contrary, they are as sweet as honey with a touch of spice. Now unripe-- that's another story. Though I've never tried for myself, I hear they can make you pucker for quite some time!<br />
The next challenge, which I truly delight in, is discovering new ways to use these autumn treasures. I've found fabulous recipes for bread, cake, cookies, and muffins, but nothing will ever compare to my Aunt Mid's Persimmon Pudding. Since I gladly share the recipe with friends, I suppose there's no harm in including it here. It might become your favorite, too!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Aunt Mid's Persimmon Pudding</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
1. Wash and mash persimmons through a sieve, removing seeds.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
2. Combine: 2 cups pulp, 3 eggs, 1 3/4 cups milk.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
3. Sift together: 2 cups flour, 1/2 tsp. baking soda, 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice (OR 1/2 tsp. cinnamon & 1/2 tsp. nutmeg). Add to persimmon mixture.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
4. Then add: 1 1/2 cups sugar, 3 Tbsp. butter, melted, and vanilla to taste. OPTIONAL ADD-INS: coconut, raisins, nuts. (NOTE: I ALWAYS use coconut.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
5. Pour into oiled (I use Pam spray.) 2" deep 9x11 pan or baking dish. Bake at 325F for 1 hour.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
6. Glaze: 1/4 cup boiling water, 3 Tbsp. brown sugar. Dissolve and brush on top after baking.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
NOTE: I have made this recipe using egg substitute, gluten-free flour, and coconut milk, and it's just as good as ever!!!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Well, I hope you enjoy the recipe and have a wonderful "Persimmon Fall"!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> "For seven days celebrate the Feast</i> <i>to the Lord your God at the place the Lord will choose. For the Lord your God will bless you in all your harvest and in all the work of your hands, and your joy will be complete." (Deuteronomy 16:15, NIV)</i></div>
<br />Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-84990895724508986282012-02-26T21:15:00.000-05:002013-03-20T08:59:55.753-04:00Bedeviled? This morning in church, when Pastor Derald asked for testimonies, a woman stood and told an amazing story that continues to haunt my thoughts. Her granddaughter shows horses and yesterday had to borrow someone else's trailer to transport her horse to an event. Though I don't know a lot about horses, I am aware that like most animals they are sensitive beings, and so was not surprised to hear my friend say that when "Dillon" was loaded into the unfamiliar trailer for the return to his home stable, he became "spooked" and began to rear and neigh wildly. Understandably, there was nothing anyone could do to intervene while this large animal flailed in the close confines. As he did so, a beam dislodged from the top of the trailer and fell across the horse's back, yet he continued to rear with a small crowd gathering to watch helplessly.<br />
<br />
As the horse's screams grew louder and louder, my friend's daughter began hearing a woman in the crowd praying for Dillon to be released from this demon. The louder Dillon's cries of distress grew, the louder the woman's prayers soared, as she turned to the only possible Source of help for the poor creature. Suddenly, letting our a chilling scream that everyone there presumed to be his death cry, the horse collapsed on the floor of the trailer, and silence fell over the crowd. Dillon had gone into shock, which probably saved his life. The beam could then be easily removed from his back, and when he recovered his vet found there was no significant injury to the beautiful creature.<br />
<br />
Have you ever felt tormented by a demon? I certainly have! Oh, it probably hasn't been life-threatening as Dillon's situation was, yet I am more and more aware that the closer we walk with God, the more Satan tries to distract us from doing the work God has given us. Recently I have been privileged to begin sharing the Gospel with a young lady. Last week I asked some friends to pray with me and for me in this exciting and challenging undertaking. One of the group immediately warned, "Be prepared to be under attack, because you are doing God's work." <br />
<br />
I have certainly experienced Satan's attacks in the form of depression and discouragement, and perhaps even physical ailments. Today I am indeed suffering all three. How blessed I am to have been reminded by Dillon's story of our Lord's faithfulness when we call upon Him. As often happens in our sweet church, Pastor Derald's sermon fell right into step with the uplifting story about Dillon. He preached on Jesus' temptation in the wilderness immediately after His baptism and the recognition of Who He was by John the Baptist. We were reminded that Jesus, the Son of God and God Himself, was attacked by the Evil One even as His true work on earth just began. (See Matthew 4:1-11) <br />
<br />
And so, when we feel we are under attack by demonic forces, we would do well to remember three things: first, we are in <i>very</i> good company, since our Lord Himself endured all the same temptations that we experience. Second, God has given each of us, not just some, the power to resist the devil, if we simply submit ourselves to Him. (James 4:7) Finally, it is on God's faithfulness, not our own, that we rely.<br />
<br />
"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23 NIV)Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-2007487304253121172012-02-11T18:23:00.000-05:002013-03-20T09:00:34.325-04:00Is It Humility or Pride? Why, I wonder, do I find it so difficult not only to <i>ask </i>for prayers for myself, but even to <i>pray</i> for myself? I began yesterday's prayer journal entry by exclaiming, <i>"How humbling it is for me to know others are praying for me!"</i><br />
<br />
<i> </i>After several weeks of a lingering, albeit minor, illness, I have begun hearing the prayers of friends and family on behalf of my own health. The first time it happened I had to swallow the urge to shout, <i>"You don't need to pray for me! My sickness is trivial compared to that of so many others around us!" </i>And I truly still feel that way, when I look around me at the list of friends and neighbors battling various cancers, chronic illness, pain or other deadly disease. Oh, I have asked for prayer plenty of times, but it was usually for someone else's benefit: a sick or hurting friend, a loved one in a difficult or life-changing situation, an important decision. When I <i>have</i> asked for prayer for myself, or even prayed for myself, it was for wisdom in helping someone along in their faith journey.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i> </i>I also began wondering, though, if my reaction was an indication of some sort of <i>pride</i>. Do I think I'm too good or too perfect or too capable to <i>need</i> prayer? I certainly hope not, and yet the word that best expresses how I feel when I hear someone pray for me is "humbled." Does it not follow, then, that I must have felt some sort of pride before knowing I was being lifted up in prayer?<br />
<br />
In the Old Testament book of Daniel, King Nebuchadnezzar ruled over a flourishing Babylon. He was understandably proud of his accomplishments. When he began having disturbing dreams, his Hebrew servant Daniel was able to interpret them, and they were a clear warning and condemnation of the king's wickedness and oppression of the poor. When Daniel's predictions came true, Nebuchadnezzar was wise enough to "praise and exalt and glorify the King of heaven, because everything He does is right and all His ways are just. And those who walk in pride he is able to humble." (Daniel 4: 37 NIV). Of course, if "Neb" had known the Hebrew scriptures, he should have remembered Proverbs 16:18: "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall."<br />
<br />
Well, I hope my pride does not equal Nebuchadnezzar's, and I know my accomplishments are nowhere near his, BUT I pray that if this season has been a lesson in humility, I have learned it well. I find it interesting that in the midst of this examination of pride, I was directed by a Facebook friend to watch the attached video of Scott Hamilton on the site <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9ZcN_6wzp8" target="_blank">"I Am Second."</a> Though it takes about ten minutes, I hope if you are struggling with some form of pride, you will take the time to watch it. It is quite a picture of humility!<br />
<br />
"May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." (Galatians 6:14 NIV) <br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
Charlanne<br />
<br />
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4147750801182233825.post-1533533265179326012012-02-03T20:21:00.005-05:002012-02-03T21:36:29.804-05:00Welcome to My Blog! You may ask, "What's it about?" Well, <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">truth is, I'm not sure!</span> For several years, since retiring, I've been asking God, "What do You want me to do?" I'm not <i>really</i> ready to stop being useful, but my primary "gift" is words. I was fortunate to be able to make a living writing for about ten years. I wrote magazine articles, primarily about travel. (Yes, it was fun!) But what does a retiree do with words?<br />
I've been blessed for the past seven years to be part of a wonderful singing group, Wing and A Prayer (You can find us on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Wing-and-A-Prayer-Ministry/338133526207001">Facebook</a> or on the <a href="http://www.wingandaprayerministry.com/">web</a>). Our talented leader, Phil Giallombardo, has generously mentored me through writing lyrics for a few of our songs. I fear this has been a much greater blessing to me than to anyone else, and yet, I pray always that our songs bless someone who hears them in some way.<br />
But lately I've been yearning for more. A way to share my thoughts, touch someone with my words, pass on a few things I've learned in my nearly sixty-five (!) years. It was either my husband Bill or my son Christian who suggested a blog, and so finding it not too difficult to begin, here I am. <br />
What will follow remains to be seen, but I invite you to join me on my next "journey" ....<br />
<br />
"Yes, happy are those who have it like this! <br />
Happy indeed are those whose God is the LORD."<br />
-- Psalm 144: 15 (NLT)<br />
<br />
Charlannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05715027871703811036noreply@blogger.com1