tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44422642412014660602024-03-05T16:36:18.901-07:00Whispering Soul Streams rest. restore. replenish.barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-20834065264843706712016-12-24T13:43:00.003-07:002016-12-24T13:43:36.541-07:00wishing you a cozy Christmas!!! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-10577369149561866472016-12-21T12:06:00.001-07:002016-12-21T20:25:00.385-07:00will you offer a vacancy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The other evening, a few girlfriends I've been doing a study with had a little Christmas get together at my house. Since we all came feeling frazzled, tired, and a bit overwhelmed with so much yet to do, I promised that they would leaved feeling pampered, loved and reminded of what really matters most about Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My one friend has a gift for finding the perfect song for any occasion, so I asked her to bring one to share that evening. As expected, she chose a song that was just beautiful -- the kind of song that raises goosebumps and goes straight to the heart of you, leaving you speechless for a few long moments -- as if responding with words might ruin something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was one line in particular that I have not stopped thinking about since:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The only thing my heart can offer is a vacancy."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The song is called "Be Born in Me" and the speaker in the song is a young woman named Mary, chosen by God to receive the great blessing and great burden of bringing the long awaited Messiah, Jesus Christ, into this world. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Her vacancy became the fullness of life offered to all humankind.</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What a strange and wonderful thing to offer of yourself -- a vacancy, some empty room in your heart and life. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a world that tells us we should always be fulFILLed, never lacking, never empty, personally satisfied at any cost, it is a strange thought that having a vacancy in your heart might be a good thing; that it might actually be a gift to offer.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But vacancy is a gift that comes with a price. A heart that is able to offer a vacancy has been emptied of something, sometimes by choice but often not. Perhaps we've </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">intentionally chosen to give up or let go of something, in order to make room for something better. Perhaps we've chosen to open our hearts wider, making space to actually feel more pain or more joy, or to make room for new friendships, or to respond to a need. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But perhaps the vacancy we feel is a result of loss, not by our choice at all. Maybe we've experienced a loss of someone dear to us or a loss of health. Maybe it's been the loss of a career or a marriage or a dream, or the loss of identity that results from such changes. </span>Loss creates a vacancy, one that can feel extremely painful or lonely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But could it be possible that a heart-vacancy also allows for new possibilities, for an infilling that could not happen otherwise? <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As the Christmas story is told, on the night of Jesus's birth, there was no room at the inn. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>There was no vacancy. </b> The world had not prepared a space to receive the Greatest Gift of all.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can't help but wonder if much has changed since that </span>first Christmas? I can't help but wonder about myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In all the blessings I've received, in a life abundant with love, family, friendship and grace, am I will to experience an emptiness? <b>Am I willing to offer a vacancy in my heart and life for Jesus to come and be born in me?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My hope for all of us this Christmas, is that we will make room. That we will not be satisfied and over-filled with good things, at the risk of missing out on the Best thing, the Giver of Life Himself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Merry Christmas. Hugs and love to all of you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">P.S. If you have a few moments, make yourself a warm drink, snuggle into a quiet place and enjoy: </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsXOP7aQeqQ" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;" target="_blank">Link: "Be Born in Me" by Nichole Nordeman & sang by Francesca Battistelli</a><br />
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words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-81795876209351731512016-12-15T10:52:00.002-07:002016-12-15T15:41:32.355-07:00Christmas Reflections<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love this season of Christmas. I can barely wait each year for the afternoon when our family exchanges ornaments and decorates the tree; for the way we laugh and retell the stories, and one by one weigh down the branches with memories new and old. I treasure the simple, unexpected moments of togetherness when all of us end up laying around in the living room with the tree lights low, the music playing and the easy conversation that flows. I love the huge family and friend gatherings with great food, little kids running around and the pleasure of being with those we care about. Even the kitchen chaos has had a festive feel to it lately... like last night when each of us on crazy schedules came tumbling in at different times, ate our dinner, snacked on ginger cookies, watched the gingerbread house take shape on the table (thanks to Brooklyn), and dipped into the candies meant to decorate it. These are the moments I love and cherish so much. They are such wonderful gifts.</div>
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But there is one gift I cherish more, and sometimes I forget. It's only when I stop and intentionally set aside some quiet moments to reflect, to pull away from all the hustle and noise, pressure and distraction, that I remember. </div>
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Amidst all the wonderful gifts, there is something infinitely more....the most immeasurable, indescribable, invaluable gift of all: <i style="text-align: center;"><b>God's gift of Himself</b></i><span style="text-align: center;"> to me -- to all of us. </span>He is the gift of fresh, new beginnings; the gift of forgiven mistakes, forgotten pasts, and clean slates. He is the gift of freedom for our souls. He is Christmas.</div>
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A couple thousand years ago, at just the perfect moment -planned before the beginning of time- God did the impossible. He became small. The creator and mastermind behind all that we might wrap our wildest imaginations around, willingly inserted Himself into time and history, in the form of a helpless baby, born to a peasant girl who was engaged to a carpenter. And His birth was announced to the shepherds, of course. God lit up the heavens with stars and angel-choirs singing -- a show for the lowly and lonely and overlooked. </div>
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<b>This is what God always does. He comes to those of us that want and need him most.</b> <b>He becomes small enough to be born in us</b>, <b>if we choose to make any room at all for Him in our own soul's manger -- right there in the mess of it all.</b> And then the Miracle grows in us. God fills us and spills out of us. We get to be transformed daily, if we choose, because the creator is lovingly at work within us.</div>
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And just like the virgin Mary, who said "yes" to being a vessel wherein Christ could dwell, we have the same choice to make. <b>Are we willing to say yes, even the tiniest yes, to having God dwell in us?</b> Are we willing, even when we don't know what it means, when we're afraid, when we doubt, when we're confused and lost in our messy lives, to say yes? </div>
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If we are, if we're willing to make any room at all for God in us, I can't help but believe that we might finally experience a widening of our imaginations and catch a glimpse of Christmas' true meaning and best gift.</div>
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Merry Christmas to you all.</div>
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-90433859257881840022016-11-21T15:32:00.001-07:002016-11-21T15:32:35.183-07:00aspiring to humility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been wanting to write about humility for several weeks now but have been stalling. The truth is, thinking about humility theoretically is good, but it is not enough. Writing about it is not enough. Every moment I spend time pondering the extraordinary quality of humility, I feel called to turn my thoughts into action, to move from the cerebral to the practical. And while humility is a quality I want my life to be defined by, I realize that there are no short cuts to becoming humble. From my experience, the best opportunities to actually practice humility hurt. We can practice humility when we've been wronged or treated unfairly, when we've been misunderstood, when we find ourselves clinging to the applause of some or shrinking at the disapproval of others, when we are faced with the choice to assert ourselves or put others first. All of these opportunities and many more like them seem to have one thing in common: they come in times of difficulty.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">hu-mil-i-ty</span> </div>
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<i>noun </i> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness</span></div>
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Humility is beautiful, but it is not weak. Humility is not to be mistaken for low self esteem or an inferiority complex. In fact, the portrait of humility I find in the Bible, especially in the person of Jesus, requires immense strength of character and an ongoing commitment to <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">choose love every time. </span>The bible issues a wild challenge to every follower of Christ:</div>
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<i>In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death --even death on a cross! (Philippians 2: 5-8</i> NIV)</blockquote>
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Humility requires of us. </div>
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It requires forgiveness, mercy and kindness. It requires self-control and a willingness to step down in order to elevate others. It requires speaking softly or not at all, when it feels more natural to raise our voice and be heard. It requires listening, caring and for most of us, it requires a lot of practice in consciously choosing to do the hard thing. </div>
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I wish it were otherwise, but the practice of humility does not come naturally to me. I constantly struggle internally with things that work against humility: insisting on my right to be heard; my over-concern with what others might think of me; my desire to set the record straight, to be understood and accepted; my tendency to put myself on centre stage rather than being content as supporting cast. </div>
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And so.... I've been praying A LOT. I've been asking God to help me change my mind, to help me choose to think and respond differently than what comes most natural. The bible has a really cool term for this whole process, it is called the "renewing of your mind." In Romans 12:2 Christ followers are encouraged in this way:</div>
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<i>Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is --his good, pleasing and perfect will. (NIV Romans 12:2)</i></blockquote>
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There are different ways to understand the phrase "pattern of this world" but I think the easiest way is that it simply represents the road that most of us travel naturally and easily: the ME-first road. In this verse, I think believers are being challenged to choose the hard way -- the way that requires a different model of thinking, literally a new mind on the matter. And as for what is God's "good, pleasing and perfect will," that can be answered easily:</div>
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<i>He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? <b>To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8 NIV)</b></i></blockquote>
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Oh goodness!! Even as I read and write in this moment, I let out a heavy sigh. <br />
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I have such a long way to go in this process. And the hardest part of all is that practicing is really hard. Am I willing to commit to this kind of rigorous training? Is the outcome, a life characterized by humility, something I am willing to keep in my sights? <br />
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If I truly want to walk daily in humility, I know it means facing difficult things. It means summoning the courage to invite opportunities, submit to this growing process, and to remind myself: <i>Don't just think about it. DO IT!</i><br />
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-41630072438958350162016-10-08T11:42:00.001-06:002016-11-07T08:59:17.812-07:00happy T H A N K S G I V I N G 2016<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> i am <b>THANKFUL </b>for...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(in 2 minutes or less...ready...set...GO!!!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">1. Jesus' unconditional love for me 2.</span><span style="font-family: courier new, courier, monospace; font-size: large;">my incredible husband and kids 3.T</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">uesday night sleepovers with mom </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">and our W</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">ednesday's together 4. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">lifelong friendships </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">that grow deeper each day 5.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">the way my heart dances when I hear my daughter's </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">laugh 6. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">long chats and laughs with my oldest son 7. that far away look in my younger son's eyes when he's making magic on his guitar 8. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: courier new, courier, monospace;">m</span></span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">y husband's hilarious e-mails...such a funny guy 9.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">watching and playing volleyball 10. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">soft sheets and a warm bed </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">to sleep in 11.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">my hubbie's warm feet when i sneak late into bed 12.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">long walks </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">in the woods </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">or by the river 13.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">the sound of water</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">...rushing, crashing, trickling, splashing, lapping, rippling 14.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">morning mochas on the front porch</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> listening to the birds or the rain, or the silence 15. good health t</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">o enjoy this life 16. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">our worship </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">times at church...just gives me goosebumps to enjoy God's presence in this way 17. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">writing in my journal </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">or re-reading old ones 18. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">favourite authors...books, words, poetry 19. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">watching my kids h</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">ug and laugh </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">with one another 20. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">morning prayers </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">all huddled in a hug at the front door 21.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">my sister and brother 22. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">car rides </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">in the malibu with the whole family and the top down 23. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">scented candles </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">and long baths</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> with a breeze blowing in the window 24. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">soft jazz</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> on the piano or saxophone ...and big band music 25. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">impromptu parties </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">with great friends and delicious food 26. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">everything artistic...</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">i love when creativity </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">just spills out and you can't do anything but surrender to it all 27. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">the respect </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">my family shows one another...what a gift 28. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">times out on the boat with friends and family 29. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">long hugs.</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">..especially from husband and kids...the kind I have to reach up for now! 30.c</span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">apturing magic with my camera 31. </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">keeping gratitude lists </span><span style="font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace; font-size: large;">around the house so that I can add to them any time I like....and then re-reading them</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">and so on, and so on, and so on....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian friends this weekend. May your own list of thankfulness grow throughout this coming year...and may your heart lean closer into the One from whom all blessings flow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">xxoo</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">~melody~</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Come join me over on instagram: whisperingsoulstreams and take a moment to spread the love by clicking on the "share" link below. </span></div>
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words and images © Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-74921806255089404112016-10-07T10:45:00.001-06:002016-10-07T10:45:54.236-06:00for those grey days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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for those grey days</div>
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inside and out</div>
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when you have to look a little harder</div>
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or a lot harder</div>
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to find the hope...</div>
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may you know </div>
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in the </div>
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deepest, most hidden place of you</div>
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that God's heart</div>
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is beating </div>
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for you...</div>
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in you...</div>
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and that his breath</div>
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will be there for you</div>
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when your chest</div>
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feels too heavy or empty</div>
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to find</div>
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your own</div>
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love and hugs to you</div>
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on your difficult journey....</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-49783885795819299892016-10-06T13:10:00.000-06:002016-10-06T13:24:56.391-06:00quiet autumn mornings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZwoZJdpSkbgJqG6IAMdAhfxy7kvWy3NH9qrq8SKQIetSdWR9oum_wUsrBCOhr4JqyLtpU354CN5e_U4FJkEgd-G91wRfboPoawXaZvKifQC-so_GfiiYRy4BKrjr2M06efFBhTz8-PE/s1600/fall+candles+postcards+-+1+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZwoZJdpSkbgJqG6IAMdAhfxy7kvWy3NH9qrq8SKQIetSdWR9oum_wUsrBCOhr4JqyLtpU354CN5e_U4FJkEgd-G91wRfboPoawXaZvKifQC-so_GfiiYRy4BKrjr2M06efFBhTz8-PE/s640/fall+candles+postcards+-+1+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">:: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">wishing you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">a few quiet moments </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">to be still</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">and let childlike wonder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">at all autumn's offerings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">surprise and delight you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">and warm you right through</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</span></div>
barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-33380825513496324832016-09-30T11:54:00.000-06:002016-09-30T14:23:30.895-06:00the first day of fall<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"What I mean by the first day of fall is that day when you suddenly understand with your whole body that the season has changed. When the air feels snappier against your skin and the sky's blueness turns wistful, and the humming of insects shifts pitch, and you just know like you know your own name that summer is over."(Marisa de los Santos in <i>Belong To M</i>e) </span></blockquote>
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how is it possible</div>
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that the first day of fall</div>
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has come and gone?</div>
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I find myself</div>
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clinging to the hope</div>
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that fall will linger </div>
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that sunlight</div>
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will still find leaves on trees</div>
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to bath in </div>
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glistening gold</div>
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i catch myself</div>
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calling "noooooo"</div>
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to the wind</div>
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as I watch leaves whirling </div>
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tumbling</div>
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lifting into the air</div>
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and away</div>
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leaving trees</div>
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a little </div>
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less </div>
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clothed</div>
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every day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9H2KuN7RRAf6Ee1SREcrExHAKCkq46zPXbQQAaT95kkuW_uJhvjc-im1fjNL6QRYzha6QsPmueZMYImOcFRk34aiqCLb0cHnQfLSVNhkytULrMGzy9TjFx7iEWMTtArO16cjRKtv08w/s1600/fallleaves+-+1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9H2KuN7RRAf6Ee1SREcrExHAKCkq46zPXbQQAaT95kkuW_uJhvjc-im1fjNL6QRYzha6QsPmueZMYImOcFRk34aiqCLb0cHnQfLSVNhkytULrMGzy9TjFx7iEWMTtArO16cjRKtv08w/s640/fallleaves+-+1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-29607697355509987962016-09-12T17:02:00.006-06:002016-09-15T20:17:31.695-06:00things i love about fall <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBqJFwq4v2rfgetzNHWCJBU2L6DIJoIfPM9r7uBI5NiRle42SFPK-zha2t-3jEu3pFl8D6D3z-65W2H4UfMREbKd67XAFGhWrhzPKe8Xe4dWvcZtn-ep5nQ-GvdV-XNJddMvG2ZbtgP4/s1600/crabapples2016+-+1+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBqJFwq4v2rfgetzNHWCJBU2L6DIJoIfPM9r7uBI5NiRle42SFPK-zha2t-3jEu3pFl8D6D3z-65W2H4UfMREbKd67XAFGhWrhzPKe8Xe4dWvcZtn-ep5nQ-GvdV-XNJddMvG2ZbtgP4/s640/crabapples2016+-+1+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">i love...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">a mix of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg & crabapples bubbling on the stove. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">2.</span>long walks in the nearby woods <span style="font-size: large;">3.</span>picking crabapples <span style="font-size: large;">4.</span> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">kicking piles of leaves into the air and watching sunlight catch them on the way down <span style="font-size: large;">5.</span>lingering rays of sun on the front </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">porch <span style="font-size: large;">6.</span>being enraptured by fall's beauty through the lens </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">7.</span> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">long walks with people i love</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <span style="font-size: large;">8.</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">making jelly and apple butter</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <span style="font-size: large;">9.</span> soft worn-out blue jeans and brown boots <span style="font-size: large;">10.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">cool, fresh air infusing our bedroom while we sleep </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">11.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> out-door parties around th</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">e fire pit and homemade pizzas bubbling in the pizza oven </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">12.</span>ginger squash soup simmering <span style="font-size: large;">13.</span>volleyball start-up <span style="font-size: large;">14.</span> back-to-school pics on the front step <span style="font-size: large;">15.</span> snuggling </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">up to my husband under our feather duvet <span style="font-size: large;">16</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">.</span> savouring that "new beginning" feeling <span style="font-size: large;">17.</span> watching kids with basketballs, volleyballs & skateboards on the driveway <span style="font-size: large;">18.</span> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">sunflowers smiling against blue sky backdrop</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBFDSBd88glEeglVi0rynPH17P0cpKre6_ozpAH592X3kJE1UIi3mLozeFb3BCu6Je-oneF0CdqMzj9AhroV1ZQoGdPGzYGqG23_XQK2Ud9CmdHMCxMz8iUeaY5wF0i5L3WJwAwXq0u4/s1600/sunflowerSky+-+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBFDSBd88glEeglVi0rynPH17P0cpKre6_ozpAH592X3kJE1UIi3mLozeFb3BCu6Je-oneF0CdqMzj9AhroV1ZQoGdPGzYGqG23_XQK2Ud9CmdHMCxMz8iUeaY5wF0i5L3WJwAwXq0u4/s640/sunflowerSky+-+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <span style="font-size: large;">19.</span> cool,damp mornings hugging and praying and waving at the doors <span style="font-size: large;">20.</span> low golden sunlight streaming <span style="font-size: large;">21.</span> geese splashing wildly in the river as they take off into flight <span style="font-size: large;">22.</span> crunchy leaves under my feet 23. favourite wool hats 24. saving seed pods for next spring 25. cozying up in front of the fireplace</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">that's me...now what about you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</span></div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-63626415551194770132016-09-12T17:02:00.005-06:002016-09-14T23:40:18.559-06:00life between the highlights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Stubbed toes. Rusty ladders. Slimy steps. Chipped nail polish. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">There is so much living that happens between the highlights.</span> We all know it's true, yet we sometimes believe that ours is the only life that is ordinary, mundane, uneventful or filled with heartache. We are dazzled by the vast number of "likes" on our friend's Facebook pages or Instagram accounts. We believe they are proof that everyone else in our circle is experiencing life more fully, taking more exotic vacations, accomplishing more items on their bucket list, eating healthier, raising all-star children, achieving their purpose-driven life........living the dream.</div>
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But what about all those in-between moments where some of the really important stuff happens --the ones we would never post for the world to see? Where disappointments stretch our character? Where misunderstandings give us opportunity to forgive? Where we learn about humility through illness or injury? Where we struggle and strive and learn to dig deeper? Where our dependance on God grows moment by moment?<br />
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I want to share with you some of my in-between moments as a sort of sequel to the post before this one entitled <i><b>Summer Sweetness and Seasons of the Soul</b> <a href="http://whisperingsoulstreams.blogspot.ca/2016/08/summer-sweetness-seasons-of-soul_22.html" target="_blank">[link here</a>] </i> and one from last summer called <i><b>Summer Gifts and Dreamy Spaces</b> </i><a href="http://whisperingsoulstreams.blogspot.ca/2015/08/summer-gifts-dreamy-spaces.html" target="_blank">(link here</a>).<br />
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I wrote my "Summer Sweetness" post over the course of a day and a half alone at the lake. Normally I just love the idea of a couple days alone in such a beautiful place with time to myself to do whatever I want: think, swim, walk, write, day-dream (and clean with no-one messing it up behind me.) But what you won't know from reading my post is that I actually felt so lonely this time when my family was leaving. I cried when they pulled away. <span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I just felt strange and weird and out of sorts -- with tears that seemed way too close to the surface. </span> I'd had a misunderstanding with my daughter that we hadn't really resolved well; I was feeling disconnected from my husband - sensing that his thoughts had shifted out of holiday mode and back onto work and real life; I'd felt disappointed earlier that morning that I was the only one who wanted to go for my "birthday"waterski - when the lake was so glassy and it was our last opportunity before we took the boat out for the summer. <br />
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So that was how my "alone" time began -- kind of gross, but I knew it was just temporary weirdness. It didn't take long before I settled into the peaceful solitude of my surroundings and sat down to write. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Then there was the rat. </span>Yes, you heard right. RAT!! I won't go into all the gory details, but suffice it to say that later that night after I'd gone to bed with my bedroom doors open to the top floor deck, I'd heard a nighttime visitor scurrying just a few feet away. Though I jumped up and flipped the light on, I didn't see anything. But sure enough the next morning, (which also happened to be my birthday) I discovered evidence left by the critter that assured me it was bigger than a mouse. YUCK! It had also left evidence all over the main deck as well.<br />
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I am an Alberta girl who knows nothing about rats, but I do know about mice. This was not a mouse. So, I had a problem to solve. As a result, I spent the morning of my birthday researching and looking at disgusting pictures to find out if I was actually dealing with a rat. Then after lunch I drove into town to buy the only three rat traps I could find. Which, by the way, are huge. Again....yuck!! <br />
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To make a long story short, and to save you all the suspense that must be killing you, I set the traps with peanut butter, one on each level of the house, and by the next morning, I'd caught myself a pack- rat the size of my foot with a long hairy tail.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Life between the highlights. Not glamorous. Often not so humorous.</span><br />
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I guess one of the main reasons I write in this blog is simply to celebrate the grace that lines each of our moments - the highlights, lowlights and every bit of living in between. It is a very precious gift to be able to see God at work in our lives, no matter how things appear. This is what I ask for daily. <span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b>My earnest desire is ALWAYS to see and recognize God's grace and then to share that grace and hope with others. </b></span><b> </b>This is what I love to do. Yet, you may be surprised to know that I experience a lot of angst about my writing. Yet another part of my own story of life between the highlights.<br />
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Almost every time I sit down to write, I worry that my posts will sound trite or cliché. Most days, I agonize over every line; rarely does my writing happen effortlessly. Instead, I grapple with wording and often scrap posts altogether because I am afraid of how my words will be taken. At times, I find writing about joy and beauty the most difficult of all topics. The whole time that I am trying to encourage and share beauty with my readers, I am thinking about all the ugliness that so much of the world faces every single day. I think about the secret heartache of people I rub shoulders with at the grocery store. I think about the vast, indescribable suffering of people on every surface of the globe. I worry that my words will make people scoff or feel even more cynical about the hurts and disappointments of life. I worry that my joy will highlight someone else's pain. Or if I write about hurt or sadness or struggles, I worry that I'm not qualified because I have such a good life overall. I worry that I will sound like a princess who takes her own perfect life for granted and only obsesses over minuscule first-world problems. I worry that I will sound completely naive or insensitive to the tragedies occurring all around me. I worry. And that gets in the way of me following my calling.<br />
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A dear friend recently challenged me when I shared these feelings with her. She is the one who, back when I was a teenager, helped me fall in love with writing and poetry and who still encourages me to write from the heart today. She said simply and pointedly: "Try not to judge who needs it and who doesn't. Let the Lord have his way with your writing. There's a million message he can bring through your words. " <br />
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Let the Lord have his way. If I believe that I'm following my calling when I sit down to write, then why can't I simply trust that my writing will land where it needs to and touch those it was meant for?<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Trust. I am learning to trust God with all of the in-between parts of my life.</span>I want to practice noticing and celebrating God's gifts of grace that come during all the seasons, especially those between the highlights when life is tough, or ordinary, or confusing, or overwhelming. I have a hunch that as grand as the highlight moments are, it's the in-between stuff that matters most in the end.<br />
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-34599088252520246722016-08-22T18:11:00.003-06:002016-09-10T11:38:48.987-06:00summer sweetness & seasons of the soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's breezy today and there is a soft grey cloud cover filtering out the strong, hot rays of this past week. For the fair and freckled, like myself, the day is perfect. I've opened the doors at either ends of the house to allow the faint scent of the river to flow through and mingle with the humid air drifting in from the lake.<br />
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I am sitting alone in my room luxuriating in the delicious solitude of this moment. The rest of my family left for home a few hours ago and I will join them again in a day and a half. But in the meantime, I am enjoying quiet; not necessarily silence, but the kind of quiet that lets me hear wind rustling through the leaves, the honking of rowdy geese flying low over the river, two little girls giggling at the park, the rhythm of my own thoughts flowing uninterrupted, and maybe even those whispers of God as He leans in close to share words that nourish my spirit and prepare me to move into the next season as it unfolds. For whether I am ready or not, summer is coming to a close soon.<br />
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I've just completed Mark Buchanan's book <i>Spiritual Rhythm: Being with Jesus Every Season of your Soul.</i> With the carefully crafted words of a poet, Mark takes the reader on a stroll through the four seasons and the activities that characterize them, and then uses them as an analogy for the spiritual seasons of our soul. Since it's summer now, I've especially related to the observations he makes about this time of year and how it corresponds with a summer of the soul...the beauty, the bounty, the energy, the leisure, the warmth. Who doesn't love summer? <br />
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For most of us, there is a unique sweetness about summer that makes us want to savour every moment the way we would savour the taste of a lush, ripe plum picked right off the tree and eaten while the sun's heat still permeates its skin. (I got to do that for the first time ever this summer. What a treat for a girl from the praires.) Yet we know deep down, even as the sweet juice drips through our fingers and off our chin, that we must be present to the moment, giving thanks for these summer gifts even as they occur.<br />
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We help ourselves to the plums and enjoy. If we hold onto them too long, they spoil.<br />
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I have to remember this as I try not to hold too tightly to the dreamy stretch of weightless days that have allowed us all to drift and daydream a little; to pause from the rushing, racing, accomplishing we do all year. There have been so many "ripe plum" moments: sitting in candlelight out on the front deck listening to my younger son play guitar till midnight, riding bike quietly under the stars with my daughter, walking and splashing along the lake shore with my mom and sister, savouring a few quiet mornings alone with my mocha and my Lord, going for a long swim up the river with my husband and a night swim out on the boat just the two of us, listening to each of my children share personal things that have been significant and meaningful to them this summer, cheering my brother on as he wake-surfs in his 60's (sorry for telling!!) and my 10 year-old nephew do the same for the first time, observing and respecting my oldest son as he becomes a man - making his own choices and stretching out into his independence, watching my kids with their cousins laughing and having fun, delighting in the deep heart-to-heart talks with a life long girlfriend during her visit, playing volleyball in the sand until it's too dark to see, preparing and enjoying meals with a multitude of family and friends, eating ice cream with gramma and grampa and all of us, laughing at teenage boys dancing to house music beneath pulsing speakers out on the boat....all of this and SO MUCH MORE. My heart is full to the brim and spilling over.<br />
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A year and a half ago I starting collecting letters to make up the word "nourish" to put over a collage of family images at the lake. This summer I finally completed it and put it up on the wall. It turned out perfectly, for I knew that our times together at the lake would be times of nourishment, for our bodies, yes, but especially for our souls.<br />
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As I spend my last few days here at the lake, I find myself thinking ahead to what next summer is going to be like, hoping for many more wonderful family times together, yet knowing that our oldest son will have graduated from high school by then and be getting ready to leave for collage in another province. My heart aches at the thought of it. It will be another kind of letting go and I'm not sure if I've had practice enough to do it very gracefully. In the words of one of my favourite authors Katrina Kenison: <br />
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<i>I looked around...and tried to memorize the moment, to burnish it by my own attention into a keepsake that I might store away now and retrieve later, on a day when the sparkle and intimacy of the holiday had long since vanished from the house...The irony, of course, is that every moment of our togetherness contains the seed of a farewell, that life is always a dance of coming together and moving away again. Somehow we must learn to be nimble in our steps, to welcome both togetherness and solitude, to move boldly, easily, out into the world and to honour as well the soul's requirements for rest, replenishment and reflection." (p. 249 The Gift of an Ordinary Day)</i></blockquote>
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So today, in the peace and contentment of some sparkling alone moments, I thank God for all the sweetness and nourishment he has provided this summer, for the summer season of my soul right now, and for the year ahead that is full of possibilities and beauty -- even in the letting go.<br />
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016 (unless otherwise cited)</div>
barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-89409586636390343782016-05-31T13:43:00.000-06:002016-05-31T13:43:33.762-06:00art on a rainy day<div style="text-align: center;">
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...when all the elements come together into</div>
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something wonderful....</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaonQsEIj5ron2uCRNqpYFlBA3qki2ULGqZhK4PyFABhVxTjB70OTh1i_5g2rDYTdrwUetUCvU1kYi_mHaJ4O2a1tmF4lCRTD1NnJs9v9kR5UfBlxOmAojHgjiQp3DJpjoUHQDL8NrKI/s1600/journal+annes+-+1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaonQsEIj5ron2uCRNqpYFlBA3qki2ULGqZhK4PyFABhVxTjB70OTh1i_5g2rDYTdrwUetUCvU1kYi_mHaJ4O2a1tmF4lCRTD1NnJs9v9kR5UfBlxOmAojHgjiQp3DJpjoUHQDL8NrKI/s640/journal+annes+-+1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">for a lovely friend who wanted some blue.....<br />
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</td></tr>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-56011660779867214202016-05-26T09:45:00.001-06:002016-05-26T09:45:40.260-06:00lost in lilacs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i think lilacs</div>
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are one of my favourite things</div>
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about spring</div>
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i cannot get enough of them</div>
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their colour</div>
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their fragrance</div>
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their texture</div>
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as long as they are in bloom</div>
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i will have a vase full</div>
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on as many tables</div>
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as possible</div>
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one favourite memory as a kid</div>
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was mom and I with clippers in hand </div>
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going to the neighbour's house</div>
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down the street</div>
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to cut lilacs</div>
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and fragrant bouquets</div>
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in every corner.</div>
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DELICIOUS!!</div>
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Mom and I still do this-</div>
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just a little more sneaky </div>
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these days</div>
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( padding around in my</div>
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girlfriend's backyard</div>
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paradise</div>
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with clippers in hand</div>
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while she is </div>
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away!)</div>
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Another slice of heaven.</div>
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words & images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-90629671049102019372016-05-23T15:09:00.000-06:002016-05-31T14:04:20.113-06:00roots and blooms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I went for a walk a couple weekends ago while my daughter was at an early morning volleyball practice. It was a gorgeous, cool, spring morning and truthfully, I stopped a lot more than I walked. My intention was to walk over to a local coffee shop and spend a few quiet moments writing but I got a little distracted along the way. Luscious blossoms everywhere were just begging to be touched and smelled and photographed.<br />
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When I finally arrived, the thought foremost on my mind was the transient beauty of spring. The transient nature of beauty itself.<br />
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Spring always provides a feast for the senses. Each year we are gifted with the opportunity to witness the stunning unfolding of fragrant new life, the sudden arrival of bold yet delicate buds and the warmth and sunshine that coax them into bloom.<br />
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There is something exquisite about a blossom opening to the world. It is an image of courage and possibility. It is beauty unspeakable, fragile, temporary.<br />
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I think we sometimes long for a life of endless spring, a life teeming with newness and dreams unfolding. If only every day of our lives could look like such a spring morning, a shocking splendour of colour and texture and possibility. But...there is no spring without winter. And this is the part we disagree with; this is the part that we would likely do away with altogether if it was in our power. After all, why suffer through the cold, the desolation, the dormancy, the dying? And now, only a few weeks later, the blossoms have faded, the fragrance has passed and the glory of spring has lost its edge a little. Spring surrenders to summer.<br />
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I guess this conversation makes me think about roots. Unlike blooms, roots never have the spotlight. They never arrive on the scene to take our breath away or inspire. They are unseen and unexciting, simply growing deeper day after day, year after year, in every season.<br />
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I think I can sometimes spend too much energy trying to find ways to keep my life in constant bloom -- wanting it always to be colourful and interesting and new. I want to see my dreams blossom (and preferably against a backdrop of dappled light, thank you very much!). But given how quickly spring passes and the dreamy, fragrant petals fall to the ground, I think I would do better to spend my energy on growing deeper roots. <br />
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The creator and author of all eternity has a beautiful, perfectly crafted plan and his plan includes seasons -- all of them. He works out his purposes, each in their own time. Whether the ground is frozen or bursting with life, whether storm clouds build or the skies are cloudless blue, whether branches bend heavy with fruit or are stripped stark and bare, God is still faithfully and mercifully at work.<br />
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He is growing our roots.<br />
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Strong. Simple. Beautiful.<br />
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Words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-22136233556240850612016-04-26T12:52:00.001-06:002016-04-26T12:52:45.926-06:00spilling with delight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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there are days</div>
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i am especially aware</div>
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and spilling with delight</div>
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days i can barely get enough</div>
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of the beauty</div>
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and all the joyful taking in</div>
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beauty</div>
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to inhale</div>
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to strain my ears towards</div>
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to gaze at</div>
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to lose myself in</div>
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and oh....those </div>
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moments of simplicity</div>
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and dailiness </div>
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- tiny hints of heaven -</div>
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to celebrate</div>
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with a dear friend</div>
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or truest love</div>
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those unencumbered moments</div>
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when joy springs fresh</div>
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teasing me into the chase</div>
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to capture </div>
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with heart and soul </div>
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and even sometimes </div>
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with a lens</div>
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my heart is spilling with delight.</div>
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-16683957248212640722016-03-21T20:29:00.001-06:002016-03-21T20:29:23.659-06:00needing a little spring? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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::: </div>
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wishing you a few moments</div>
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of happy</div>
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and</div>
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spring smiles that spill over</div>
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into laughter</div>
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maybe even a carefree afternoon </div>
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to take a long walk</div>
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listen to the birds sing</div>
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and enjoy a little sun</div>
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on your face</div>
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:::</div>
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(I wish I could give proper credit to the photographer who took the image of the women above -- which I absolutely love. I tore this image from a magazine but forgot to note the artist.)</div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-14363834957675637432016-03-17T10:04:00.001-06:002016-03-22T11:05:52.525-06:00a difficult "yes"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You asked </div>
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something important of me</div>
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and I said "yes"</div>
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not a thunderous kind of yes</div>
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that throws open doors</div>
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and reverberates through hallways</div>
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but a single</div>
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fragile</div>
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feather-kind of yes</div>
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one with almost no weight </div>
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of confidence</div>
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at all</div>
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the kind of yes </div>
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that might require some shelter</div>
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to keep it from wisping away</div>
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with my heavy exhales</div>
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i can only trust </div>
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that even in its frailty</div>
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You hear it </div>
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that it counts</div>
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somehow</div>
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it is mystery to me</div>
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that You are able </div>
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to take one delicate yes</div>
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upon another</div>
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upon another</div>
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and create </div>
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something warm enough</div>
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to cover me </div>
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during the cold</div>
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winter</div>
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drift</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNDh9MX7b-GGDjP9WcvSlBhleG4IrHxYKrzpyaefubQmvxil2g8c6p-PVPqU0t0VNB8cnlMt8jKaP77OFMyKKv7CHqWNSzd1t3aqocO6SpDh_r2n3PBMx0DHanJ7Lw4Dee2VV01FxLLLc/s1600/feather2+9165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNDh9MX7b-GGDjP9WcvSlBhleG4IrHxYKrzpyaefubQmvxil2g8c6p-PVPqU0t0VNB8cnlMt8jKaP77OFMyKKv7CHqWNSzd1t3aqocO6SpDh_r2n3PBMx0DHanJ7Lw4Dee2VV01FxLLLc/s640/feather2+9165.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-636848820232003712016-03-02T08:33:00.000-07:002016-03-17T10:09:20.942-06:00life in transition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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transitions</div>
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almost</div>
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imperceptible </div>
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at times</div>
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a quiet whisper of change</div>
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a slight shift of balance</div>
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a subtle transforming moment</div>
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when one thing nudges up against another</div>
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becoming new in the process</div>
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it can be a touch </div>
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so gentle in passing </div>
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that unless intentionally regarded</div>
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it slips away</div>
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unnoticed </div>
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but sometimes </div>
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like a growing, rushing wave</div>
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that meets the shore</div>
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with life altering force</div>
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transitions come</div>
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unexpected, untamed, unimagined</div>
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leaving us reshaped</div>
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unfamiliar</div>
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even to ourselves </div>
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all that was buried</div>
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beneath layers of busyness</div>
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or soul distraction</div>
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or forward momentum</div>
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surfaces</div>
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everything is visible</div>
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uncontained</div>
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uncensored</div>
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just laying bare upon the surface </div>
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of this life we've been building together.</div>
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It's a lovely sort of chaos</div>
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like modern art</div>
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hard to understand</div>
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but possibly beautiful.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgK6gP0AQk4LQ2fjoXIaXD9Wl0KjNdb3L-MDpid8VbZT1LZYWKGzT2srF0ah65W0INYxOhhtqbzrBiw64xFFJPjmeQONsVohcHIVuRAHP9RD39j6P9j0cHqelxLavbdyTAwGfiLreB7A/s1600/fall+trees+and+fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgK6gP0AQk4LQ2fjoXIaXD9Wl0KjNdb3L-MDpid8VbZT1LZYWKGzT2srF0ah65W0INYxOhhtqbzrBiw64xFFJPjmeQONsVohcHIVuRAHP9RD39j6P9j0cHqelxLavbdyTAwGfiLreB7A/s640/fall+trees+and+fog.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2016</div>
<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-70784733181645903702016-02-28T19:51:00.000-07:002016-02-28T19:51:02.718-07:00hidden in the woods<br />
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I've been walking through the woods near my house a lot lately. It's one of those magical places where I can lose and find myself all at the same time. </div>
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The moment I step into this world of soft, filtered light, evergreens and pine needles, rotting branches, and fallen leaves, I am filled with a sense of wonder and delight. My heart beat quickens, my senses awaken and I feel especially alive. I know that even as I walk, the big white Jack rabbit I saw a little earlier is still watching me, waiting to bolt if I come too close. I can hear a squirrel up high in a nearby tree. Maybe he's checking his secret winter stash. And sure enough, there are deer in their winter camouflage, standing beyond the bluff with their ears perked, listening to my every footstep. <br />
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It's easy to feel like I can get away from rest of the world when I'm hidden in the woods. But these days I've been looking for the opposite. Instead of wanting an escape from life's daily rhythms and minutiae, <b>I've been longing to enter my life more fully, to see it more clearly and to live it more attentively. </b> This moss covered forest is a quiet, sacred place where I can actually pay closer attention to the subtle ebbs and flows of my own inner world. It turns out that this is what I really need, because <b>what inevitably follows is a greater understanding and appreciation for God's simple gifts of grace in my life, whatever shape or form they appear in.</b><br />
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Do you have your own version of "the woods," a place where you love to go and be alone with your thoughts? A place where you can let peace and quiet wash over you, where you can ask some tough questions or listen to some answers, where you discover by surprise some new ways to enter your life more fully with gratitude and eyes open for gifts of grace?<br />
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I hope the answer is "yes." If you are looking for a place like this, just follow your eyes and heart (all my non "romantic" friends groan and roll their eyes!!!) But, really!! You may not have to go any further than your own bathtub or bedroom, a nearby park, a long ride on the train/tub/subway/bus going nowhere, a quiet corner in a cafe.....<br />
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I would love to hear of your special places and the things that you've been discovering in your times spent there. (I know this blog is a pain in the butt to try and make comments on. Please give it a try and if it doesn't work, feel free to drop me an e-mail at melodyinbluejeans@gmail.com )<br />
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And...in case you'd like a tiny glimpse into the ideas that have been percolating from my time in the woods... Here are a few of the gifts I am grateful for:<br />
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- the art and beauty I find in my daily life. I love that I notice beauty in unexpected places. I think that is one of my gifts that I can share with others<br />
-that I can choose my own attitudes and emotions -- they really are having an impact, good or bad.<br />
-that I am dearly loved by my husband, and while there are ways I wish he could express that love more frequently (adoring words :), a million kisses and hugs and touches...) his faithfulness and kindness is a gift I never want to take for granted.<br />
-that my body is strong enough to let me live an active, healthy life -- despite the injuries, and weird, random aches and pains<br />
-that my mom, at almost 89, sleeps over most Tuesday nights and it is a treasure our whole family enjoys<br />
-that I have faithful friends who always have my back, see and believe the best in me, and will continue to love me when we're old, old ladies.<br />
-that I have a sister and brother to share life's joys and sorrows with<br />
-that my kids love me, talk to me, trust me, laugh with me, and even occasionally share their secrets with me too.<br />
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(I love to keep copious lists of gratitude..........it's just what I do.........so I will stop now and let you work on your own list.)<br />
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And here are a few thoughts coming into sharper focus for me:<br />
-Transition is exciting but tough! And since we are smack dab in the middle of it, extra does of patience and grace will go a long way towards keeping a happy home.<br />
-Time with my children is precious. It used to seem like our days together stretched forward endlessly but I'm realizing that this is not the case. I want to enjoy today, right now.<br />
-Simple moments together with friends and family matter. Small gestures add up. I am reminding myself to take those few extra minutes at bed time to rub someone's back, to hear a story from the day or listen to a favourite song. I want to have time for coffee or a walk with a friend. <br />
-I can give myself a little slack. There is room for my mistakes. There is forgiveness for all of us.<br />
-I am unhappy when I procrastinate. I feel burdened when I procrastinate. I want to do it less. <br />
-I actually feel downright happy and giddy when I do the things that need doing -- this feeling of accomplishment could become addictive if I'm exposed to it enough. Haha!!<br />
-I realize that I sometimes let fear of failure (meaning: not meeting my own high expectations) stop me from trying to attain certain goals. This is NOT how I want to live. So.......I've got a little work cut out for me on this one!!<br />
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and with that.... let me send you all hugs and wishes for a lovely, joyful week.<br />
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xo. melody<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">words and images©copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</span> </div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-9504854807104268982016-02-25T09:20:00.002-07:002016-02-25T09:20:18.787-07:00waking in winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was another amazing sunrise this morning. (Is it really the third day in a row that I've barely made lunches in time because I'm too busy taking photos out on the snowy deck in bare feet??)</div>
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Another moment to draw in a breath of pure wonder. And exhale thanks.</div>
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What a crazy gift it is that morning after morning, <b>the blazing skies draw our gaze upwards, urging us to see past the circumstances that squeeze in so tightly, and fix our eyes on the expansive possibilities beyond our yesterday. Each fresh wash of color and light across the canvas sky comes with a promise that new beginnings are possible again, even today. </b></div>
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Each morning masterpiece offers a glimpse of the numinous in the ordinary.</div>
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It's so much more than my mind can comprehend, but my heart response is effortless. </div>
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It instinctively knows to stop and oooooo and ahhhhhhh and call everyone's attention....<b>it knows to give praise to the Promise-Maker, the one who paints the sky to remind us when we forget.</b></div>
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When my sister arrived at my house this morning, I just knew she would have seen it too. And sure enough, I couldn't help but laugh a little when she exclaimed that the sky was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. </div>
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She thinks He did it just for her.</div>
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words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-32058791123315194962016-01-28T17:06:00.000-07:002016-01-28T22:11:31.301-07:00letting go <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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.....and here we have the breaking.......</div>
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words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2015</div>
barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-74252791973128085222016-01-23T14:09:00.001-07:002016-03-17T13:01:07.372-06:00:: quiet moments ::<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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a few quiet days lately</div>
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(between spurts of high-energy</div>
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spring cleaning projects in january</div>
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such as pantry reorganizing, fridge cleaning, </div>
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closet sorting, purging and donating, </div>
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and basement painting ) </div>
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to breathe</div>
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to be alone </div>
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to be still enough </div>
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to recognize the yearnings</div>
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of my heart</div>
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and willfully choose</div>
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to let my days </div>
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be shaped by them</div>
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and so...long walks in the woods</div>
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luxuriously long soaks in the bath</div>
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immersed in favourite words</div>
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peaceful hours of creating.... </div>
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a journal cover</div>
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a few pages of random thoughts </div>
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plastered in mixed media</div>
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unmeasured moments </div>
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of thought and </div>
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contemplation and prayer</div>
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sitting in my dreamy bedroom </div>
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letting my eyes be washed </div>
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by the soft light of these grey winter skies</div>
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i am seeing clearer</div>
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and what do I have to show</div>
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for this solitude</div>
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but a </div>
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few pretty pages</div>
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for</div>
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the fullness of my heart </div>
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can neither be measured</div>
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nor displayed.<br />
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words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-30590656975064452992016-01-01T16:05:00.001-07:002016-01-01T16:05:33.983-07:00fresh starts...happy 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My favourite moments of the Christmas season are those I spend alone or with loved ones, reflecting on God's gifts in my life. The most immeasurable, indescribable, invaluable of all being <i><b>God's gift of Himself</b></i> to me -- to all of us. </div>
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He is the gift of fresh, new beginnings; the gift of forgiven mistakes, forgotten pasts, and clean slates. He is the gift of freedom for our souls. </div>
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A couple thousand years ago, at just the perfect moment -planned before the beginning of time-</div>
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God did the impossible. He became small. <br />
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The creator and mastermind behind all that we might wrap our wildest imaginations around, willingly inserted Himself into time and history, in the form of a helpless baby, born to a peasant girl who was engaged to a carpenter. And His birth was announced to the shepherds, of course. God lit up the heavens with stars and angel-choirs singing -- a show for the lowly and lonely and overlooked. </div>
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<b>This is what God always does. He comes to those of us that want and need him most.</b> </div>
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<b>He becomes small enough to be born in us</b>, <b>if we choose to make any room at all for Him in our own soul's manger -- right there in the mess of it all.</b> </div>
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And then the Miracle grows in us. God fills us and spills out of us. We get to be transformed daily, if we choose, because the Creator is lovingly at work within us.</div>
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And just like Mary, who said "yes" to being a vessel wherein Christ could dwell, we have the same choice to make. Are we willing to say yes, even the tiniest yes, to having God dwell in us? Are we willing, even when we don't know what it means, when we're afraid, when we doubt, when we're confused and lost in our messy lives, to say yes? </div>
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If we are, if we're willing to make any room at all for God in us, I can't help but believe that we might finally experience a widening of our imaginations and catch a glimpse of Christmas' true meaning. </div>
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May 2016 be a year for fresh starts and saying "yes" to the best Gift of all.</div>
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Love and Hugs,</div>
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Melody</div>
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H A P P Y N E W Y E A R T O A L L O F Y O U!!!! FROM ALL OF US!! </div>
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all words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-58022052180391649252015-11-12T12:12:00.000-07:002015-11-13T08:46:55.171-07:00the shining of your face<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41je_eJtYws9OhtooS3boO2HuY8MCi5-hWVdFtJDIsujK_hO9DZ94v6dtXceE58SutNSiVV3Z-ekB4vtduzMKfspRXLQCwmkdghYfbab4ZoBd0GPO7jFrhU27Ii8a2wZei2DumVPdBhE/s1600/IMG_9709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41je_eJtYws9OhtooS3boO2HuY8MCi5-hWVdFtJDIsujK_hO9DZ94v6dtXceE58SutNSiVV3Z-ekB4vtduzMKfspRXLQCwmkdghYfbab4ZoBd0GPO7jFrhU27Ii8a2wZei2DumVPdBhE/s640/IMG_9709.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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prayerful quiet</div>
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bathed in</div>
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soft, radiant shining</div>
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it is the shining of</div>
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Your face</div>
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i look for it</div>
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i long for it</div>
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and often</div>
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when my eyes are clear</div>
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i see it</div>
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on the pages</div>
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of my heart</div>
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on the path before my feet</div>
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on the lives of </div>
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those i love - </div>
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and You love more - </div>
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who still feel lost</div>
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in dark</div>
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yet You have not</div>
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forsaken</div>
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this light</div>
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it is the shining of</div>
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Your face</div>
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<i>Psalm 16:11</i></div>
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<i>"Now you've got my feet on the life path,</i></div>
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<i>all radiant from the shining of your face.</i></div>
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<i>Ever since you took my hand,</i></div>
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<i>I'm on the right way."</i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(from The Message translation of The Bible)</span></div>
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words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2015</div>
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<br />barefeet and bluejeanshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00568776956845904479noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4442264241201466060.post-77171878938135662942015-11-05T13:00:00.003-07:002016-10-13T11:59:32.674-06:00autumn gifts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I can't help but share this one with you again...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdyL8pgXSp0F_encvNoODtGrUDzv7ra6JfyPGG9pqRgPAMwu9RZ1kdxetQphyphenhyphenAj_TtyTd2gmsuFJtpbt_FhkaSiEAdGHnRbOnuQew24jHl1cxCOfzne5OiRdVAy1-oJ8ptCZcU9n_rqU/s1600/IMG_9491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdyL8pgXSp0F_encvNoODtGrUDzv7ra6JfyPGG9pqRgPAMwu9RZ1kdxetQphyphenhyphenAj_TtyTd2gmsuFJtpbt_FhkaSiEAdGHnRbOnuQew24jHl1cxCOfzne5OiRdVAy1-oJ8ptCZcU9n_rqU/s640/IMG_9491.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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while i adore summer</div>
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in all its dazzle and lustre</div>
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it is autumn that soothes my soul</div>
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if i settle into it</div>
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and let it works its magic</div>
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for if summer is an exuberant laugh</div>
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autumn is an intimate whisper </div>
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if summer is dips in the lake and dinner on the front porch</div>
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autumn is books by the fireplace</div>
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and homemade soup simmering on the stove</div>
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if summer is fast rides in shiny, bright toys </div>
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that make us scream with abandon and delight</div>
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autumn is long, leisurely walks </div>
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along broken down fences to old barns barely standing</div>
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lost in thoughtful contemplation</div>
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if summer is passionate kisses, kicked off sheets and windblown hair</div>
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autumn is a tender embrace under fluffy down duvet and</div>
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a favourite wool hat pulled over wild tangles</div>
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if summer is luscious peaches and cherry stained t-shirts</div>
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autumn is crisp, crunchy crabapples eaten right off the tree</div>
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and puckered lips that follow</div>
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if summer is the sound of lapping waves and steps splashing along the shore</div>
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autumn is the swish of dried leaves kicked into the air or scrunched along the sidewalk</div>
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if summer is the song of raindrops and the call of red winged blackbirds</div>
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autumn is the frenzy of honking geese en route to a party </div>
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perfect V's silhouetted against foggy morning skies</div>
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if summer is a spray of blossoms and petals in flirtatious, rainbow colors</div>
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autumn is blushing, red leaves and shy pinecones and marigolds peeking through frost</div>
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if summer is cool drinks in iced glasses and barefeet hopping on sizzling pavement</div>
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autumn is steamy hot chocolate and toes cozy in brown leather boots</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE28tuBn58XAAfjTOAHTbFKeqvPoVCCVC5sGlr79Fh0b8Efn-twlRYHTSOJOrsEmtWDyVAug7Ednn_QwY3tQqQcIArLu3jOJHlGEcClpx9OFBJ4bvsE41d9Mbz8NObEY1dviMRSq_JXBo/s1600/barn+-+red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-EK1RzMwBvHp5GfzYu6cU5oTCbNcPenEnWFY1WY1Rlrdk1F8keq5e-LWx2C9-pjn7jfxv5UgCaCSvgkRFDEDVe5wUno3KbVoD9MKPDHMFQYgZbVvwRXVqkh-wyixFdYt_DNEuzEE_Fw/s1600/IMG_9507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-EK1RzMwBvHp5GfzYu6cU5oTCbNcPenEnWFY1WY1Rlrdk1F8keq5e-LWx2C9-pjn7jfxv5UgCaCSvgkRFDEDVe5wUno3KbVoD9MKPDHMFQYgZbVvwRXVqkh-wyixFdYt_DNEuzEE_Fw/s640/IMG_9507.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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if summer is kids out late and not to be seen for hours</div>
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autumn is family tucked a little closer while daylight slips earlier into darkness</div>
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if summer is waking with the sun on your skin</div>
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eyes wide open to a world already beckoning</div>
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autumn is a gentle stirring </div>
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a quiet tiptoe</div>
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into a world of stillness</div>
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barely lit by crimson sunrise<br />
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and so...<br />
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while i adore summer</div>
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in all its dazzle and lustre<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">it is autumn</span>.....</div>
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if i settle into it</div>
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and let it works its magic<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">that soothes my soul.</span> </div>
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words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2015</div>
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