tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51980042100328067012024-02-02T01:05:34.033-05:00BLESSED IS SHEChristian encouragement for women from all walks of life. Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-7293654607081747262016-04-25T13:06:00.001-04:002016-04-25T14:48:37.187-04:00DEAR TARGET.... AS A RAPE SURVIVOR, I CAN NEVER SHOP AT YOUR STORE AGAINDEAR TARGET,<br />
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<br />
As a rape survivor, I can never shop at your store again and here's why:<br />
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I'm going to take religion and politics off this table for now. Right now I'm coming to you as a woman who has lived the last 17 years of my life looking over my shoulders, always hyper aware of my surroundings, and always in defensive mode around men. It's what happens when you're raped at 15. I know all too well the dangers out there. I've lived that moment when I fought as hard as I could and was still not strong enough to protect myself. I've lived that moment when I thought I was about to be murdered.<br />
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Since that day, I've known what lurks in the shadows, waiting for any opportunity to prey on women and children. There are predators out there, all around us. There are far more predators than transgender people, unfortunately. How would I know that? Well, statistics show that 1 in 6 women will become a victim in their lifetime to sexual assault. So, to assume that predators aren't going to take advantage of these new bathroom policies is scarily naïve. And I know that some people will break the law regardless, but why take that chance? Why hand them the keys? Do you care so little for women?<br />
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In the past, if I walked into the women's restroom, and then a man walked in a minute later and someone witnessed that, they would run get help. They'd call 911. They'd come check on me. People would be alerted to the fact that a woman is in danger in the restroom. Now, if I walk into the restroom and a man follows, no one will help me. <br />
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And if you want to say this is unfair to the transgenders, HERE'S A NEWS FLASH FOR YOU: THEY WERE ALREADY USING THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM AND WE WERE JUST FINE!!!!!!!!!!! I mean come on, really, do you think someone dressed like a woman, acting like a woman, who has been living like a woman uses the men's restroom???? Nope! They have always used the women's restroom. I've never once entered the women's restroom and wondered or worried about whether or not a transgender was in there. It's not like we inspect for Adam's apples at the door. But now, with your so lenient rules that seem to say, "PICK A DOOR, WHICHEVER ONE YOU WANT", I would be afraid in your restrooms. I would be terrified to put myself in such a vulnerable state, WITH MY PANTS AROUND MY ANKLES, knowing that a man could walk in at any second!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aM5Nf5CP5MT5wAdzp-iKG9fzfQqh0w1mg6v8zAwDcPjAX5Kkjrw9liJVIuVg2H62na9I2s13EL-kI-ZVZamO4X8UZzM44HthGMj67nq29dROv1DByPUWXaGtOKdyNfWjyx64N7CklHo/s1600/d5e3d04a960c7116a45f5f26ec2a7665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aM5Nf5CP5MT5wAdzp-iKG9fzfQqh0w1mg6v8zAwDcPjAX5Kkjrw9liJVIuVg2H62na9I2s13EL-kI-ZVZamO4X8UZzM44HthGMj67nq29dROv1DByPUWXaGtOKdyNfWjyx64N7CklHo/s400/d5e3d04a960c7116a45f5f26ec2a7665.jpg" width="276" /></a>Do you understand what it's like to have that kind of fear? I carry a weapon on me at all times. I avoid going anywhere by myself at night and I absolutely hate parking lots. If a van has tinted windows and is parked beside me, I'll get in on my passenger side. I wish I could live in that happy gumball world full of cotton candy that you seem to live in, but I live in this world, full of it's predators. </div>
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So now, you expect us sexual assault survivors to have to share a restroom with whomever decides to walk in? Do you have any idea what kind of panic attack I'd have if I were in the restroom and a man walked in? 1 in 6 women have these same fears as me!!! Regardless of religion, politics, race, or sexual preference, there are A LOT OF US SURVIVORS OUT THERE! Shame on you for being so blind! This is a safety issue, not a hate issue, and I pray you open your eyes before another woman becomes that 1 in 6!!!<br />
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~Amber<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-2872197687885593542016-02-03T14:18:00.000-05:002016-02-03T14:19:43.847-05:00HOW TO KEEP GOSSIP OFF YOUR LIPS<br />
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A few years ago, I found myself gossiping all the time. I'd get around
people and my opinions would just spew out by the mouthfuls, and boy did I have
an opinion about everyone! <br />
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<br />
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I'm not sure when or how it clicked with me, but The Holy Spirit brought it
to my attention. God had me take a hard look at myself and I didn't like what I
saw. I was trying to get my memoir published at that time and I felt The
Holy Spirit in me telling me, "If you can't love the women I've placed in
your life, why would I allow you to reach other women?" <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a hard truth, but it was true. I needed to love the people in my life
and I'm not talking about the superficial love we tend to give out on a whim.
I'm talking about the way God loves; the sacrificial kind of love. The kind of
love that's full of grace and forgiveness. That was the kind of love I lacked
and it showed in my speech. <br />
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<br />
<br />
So I did some soul searching. I joined Bible studies and surrounded myself
with Godly women. I dove into His word and really worked on changing my heart
so that I could change my words. <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: blue;"> </span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: blue;">"A good man out of the good treasure of
his heart bringeth forth that which is good; and an evil man out of the evil
treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance
of the heart his mouth speaketh." ~LUKE 6:45</span></em><br />
<br />
<br />
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I drew closer to God, always asking Him to show me where and how He wanted
me to change, no matter how painful that process might be and believe
me, it was painful. I lost a couple of friends during that time and
it hurt, but I gained many more friends with the new, kinder me.<br />
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Since then I've worked really hard to make sure my words are kind and
edifying. I don't always get it right, but I do really try. When I'm tempted to
gossip, I ask myself a few questions and these have really helped me. Hopefully
they will help you too.<br />
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<br />
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When I'm tempted to speak about someone behind their back I first ask
myself....<br />
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<br />
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1) Is it kind?!!! --It doesn't matter if it's true. If you have a negative
opinion about someone and feel the need to talk about it, then you should be
speaking to the person you have those opinions about or you should keep your
trap shut...<br />
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<br />
2) Will it change their (the person you're speaking to) opinion
about that person (the person you're talking about) in a negative way? --This
sort of falls in line with the previous one, but digs a little deeper. Here's
the thing, you've developed your negative opinions about someone based on
your experience with that person. Maybe they said something mean. Maybe they
did something rude. Whatever it is, it's your opinion and telling someone else
might change their opinion about that person too, when really, they should be
allowed to make their own opinion about that person based on their own
experiences. Does that make sense?<br />
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<br />
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3) Is it your secret to tell? -- This one's a kicker but so very
important!!! This is one I see people doing all the time and still not
considering it gossip, but it is and here's why. Maybe you feel the need to share
about someone else's situation. Maybe you've convinced yourself you're not
"slandering" them by just sharing something like: "Did you hear
_____'s husband cheated on her, but she stuck with him anyway?" Or
"Did you know ______'s dad is in jail for ____?" But the truth is,
it's still slander. And we've all been there before, where you try to
rationalize that it's not "gossip" because it's public knowledge
about so and so, but if it's in any way a negative secret, then it's not your
secret to share! Let whoever's secret it is be the one to tell whomever they
wish! Period! End of discussion!<br />
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EXAMPLE 1: One day I was in the car with a friend and she asked me why I didn't
like someone. Apparently I had said or done something to lead her to this
conclusion. I wrestled internally because I wanted to explain to her what my
issues were with that person so she could see I was "completely
justified" in my opinions :-p LOL. But in the end, what I wanted to say
wasn't nice and it might have changed her opinions about that other girl, so
instead I said, "A lot of my issues with her are <em>my issues</em>
of me being judgmental and I'm praying for God to change my heart toward
her." I meant every word and the funniest thing happened, I felt
empowered! I felt amazing for making the right choice and I could feel Jesus
smiling down on me! And do you know what else happened??? God did change my
heart towards that other woman and I now call her one of my closest, dearest
friends!<br />
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EXAMPLE 2: I was at a park one day with a new friend. She was new to our
church and I'd asked her to hang out. At some point, in casual conversation,
she asked about a woman from our church, wanting to know where that woman's
husband was (the woman had 2 kids, but her husband was "away"). I
wrestled internally because while this wasn't my secret to tell, it was
technically public knowledge, but the other side of it was that it was a
potentially hurtful secret. In the end, it just didn't feel right telling her
that secret. I didn't want her to form any negative opinions about that other
woman or her husband (who were both members of my church AND MY FRIENDS!). So I
simply said, "I don't really feel comfortable telling you about that
situation, but ______(the wife) is super sweet and if you ever want to talk to
her about it you can." Once again I felt God smiling down on me and it
felt so good to protect my friend's secret. And another blessing that came out
of that is the "new woman" I was hanging out with is now one of my
very best friends and one thing I love about our friendship is how we don't
gossip. We are just two Christian women who love to hang out and don't feel the
need to slander other women! :)<br />
<br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;">"Wherefore comfort yourselves together,
and edify one another, even as also ye do." ~</span></em><em><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">1 THESSALONIANS 5:11</span></em><br />
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EXAMPLE 3: One time a friend told me a secret about a guy we both knew. I
cringed as she told me because this was a man I respected within the church and
I didn't want to know about the sins from his past. It was something from his
past and not who he is now. I didn't encourage her as she talked and eventually
the conversation went cold. Still, I couldn't un-know that secret once she
told me and as much as I hate to admit it, it did change my opinion of that
man. However, although I couldn't stop her from telling me, I decided I would
never tell a soul. It was a sin from his past and it was his secret to tell. To
this day I haven't even told my husband because I don't want it to change my
husband's opinion of that man. <br />
<br />
<br />
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We 're all sinners and I for one am so grateful God doesn't throw my past
mistakes back in my face!<br />
<br />
"<em><span style="color: blue;">As far as the east is from the west, so
far hath he removed our transgressions from us." ~PSALM 103:12</span></em><br />
<br />
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Please don't think for a second I've got it all figured out or that I don't
still have slipups, but these things have helped me and I hope this post will
help you. Thanks for reading! :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~Amber<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Disclaimer: Sadly, I feel the need to clarify, for those who love to
stir the pot, this blog post DOESN'T include warning someone about a
potentially dangerous person. I am only referring to gossiping among friends
and family that is nothing more than slander. And you all know which secrets
I'm talking about. Secrets that CAN be shared are positive ones like birth
announcements and such (after the parents have shared), or announcements to
inform someone of something that isn't slanderous, such as someone being sick
and in the hospital and things like that. And of course this doesn't include
secrets about someone hurting you. You should always ask for help if you are
being hurt! ALWAYS!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-40252982760429470892015-04-11T10:20:00.001-04:002015-04-11T10:31:38.269-04:00FOR MY READERSHey everyone! How's life been? My life has been a whirlwind of crazy, exciting things.<br />
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In January my memoir went live. <br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Perfectly-Broken-Memoir-Rape-Redemption/dp/1490860045/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1428759081&sr=8-5&keywords=PERFECTLY+BROKEN" target="_blank"> PERFECTLY BROKEN</a> is on Amazon as well as other retailers. </div>
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I had plans for a book launch and we were also planning to move that same month. It was sure to be a crazy month, but God had other plans.<br />
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My water broke in the middle of the night. (Did I mention I was 7 months pregnant while trying to do all these things?) I was only 32 weeks to the day when I woke up in a puddle. Long story short, I didn't go into labor, but was put on bedrest in the hospital for monitoring. After 2 1/2 weeks I delivered a healthy baby boy and after one week in nicu, we all came home. I'll write about that adventure another time, but wanted to explain why I haven't blogged in forever!<br />
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For the longest time I've wanted to post some old pictures from my memoir. Originally I included these pictures throughout the story, but because of legal reason, decided not to put them in the final, published version. BUT, this blog doesn't make any profit, so here are the pictures from my memoir. If you've read the book, then you should enjoy getting to put a face to the name.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
These first 2 pictures were taken in Norfolk, Va. when Irene came to stay with us. She quickly became a part of our family. This first picture is her and little Al (my brother), asleep on the couch. </div>
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These next 2 pictures are at the airport when I arrived in Spain. </div>
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This is a picture of Irene's dad. </div>
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And I'm sure you all remember my trip to the castle in Spain. Here's a picture of Mrs. Kidd., Fuen, and Irene. </div>
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This is what I saw when I climbed the wall. Still not sure what the purpose of that thing is, but it was fun.</div>
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Here I am, standing on top of the wall I climbed. From up there I could see for miles and miles.</div>
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This scene didn't make it into my book. I really had to pick and choose what was most important to the story. But these pictures are fun, so I figures I'd throw these in here. This was some sort of national park (I think). </div>
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Here are 3 of the 5 Spanish exchange students. Mariah, Fuen, and Irene.</div>
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You might have to squint, but this is me and Irene. I'm on the left. </div>
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Do you remember the tie-dye dress I bought? Well here it is :)</div>
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And that cute little bookstore.</div>
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And I know you won't forget all that amazing music. I swear I can still hear it in my head :)</div>
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This is the last picture I took with Irene, right before I left. She went off to college and I moved to Florida and we lost touch. I miss her and hope to find her again someday!!</div>
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Here is my family, just a month before I delivered Willow in that last chapter. Me & Willow, Dorian, Wyatt, Mom, and Dad. (Al is grown now and was busy so he couldn't make it on that trip)</div>
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This picture was last summer, one month before I found out I was pregnant. We are now a family of five. God has blessed me greatly!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-3831384617784526192014-11-04T18:04:00.001-05:002014-11-04T18:04:22.819-05:00When to call out sinSome Christians like to call out other people's sin, but is that biblical? Well, it can be when done right. (As in, the way The BIble says to do it)<br />
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The Bible says we are to point out our friends' sin, but in love and humility.<br />
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"Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed." JAMES 5:16<br />
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"Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted." GALATIONS 6:1<br />
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What that means is, we tell them, "I've noticed this and I'm worried you're headed down a bad road. Can we talk about it? Can we pray about it? How can I help you through this? How can I be an example of Christ for you?<br />
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The reason for calling them out isn't to condem them, but to raise them up in love. That is what we are called to do.<br />
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A very powerful verse comes to mind in this situation. One verse many people forget. This verse is the reason I have never called a friend out.<br />
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"And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thy own eye?" MATTHEW 7:3<br />
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It's tempting to want to point out people's faults, but unless we don't struggle with that sin, is it our place? If I struggle with self indulgence and gluttony, how can I point out gluttony in a friend? What if I'm thinner (so I don't struggle with it as much) but it's still a sin of mine? Can I call out my friend because I think my sin is less than hers??? No!!!!!!! That's self-righteous and hypicritical!!! You can however say, "This is something I struggle with, and I think you struggle too. Can we lift each other up and encourage each other and try not to do that sin?"<br />
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If we aren't going to love them through it, then we do nothing but slander them and hurt them, and that is NOT biblical!!! Beware of self-rigteousness! Remember that verse earlier about calling out sin, well go just a little further and it says this:<br />
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"For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself." GALATIONS 6:3<br />
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If you say, "this is your sin and the reason I can't be your friend." You miss the big picture entirely. And you miss out on the biblical blessing that comes from calling out sin.<br />
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The blessing of pointing out a friend's sin, and then loving them through it is, YOU GET TO WATCH THEM GROW!!!!! If they are truly a Christian, then they will want to grow. But if you point out their sins and walk away, you miss out on a blessing and most likely will be fighting your own self-righteous sins.<br />
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~AmberUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-47613595283785657522014-10-06T10:46:00.001-04:002014-10-06T19:26:29.618-04:00Teaching Our Daughters to Love Their BodiesI read a blog last week that got me thinking. <br />
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The blogger said her mom never taught her to love her body but then went on to say how her mom was busy teaching her to love others and work hard and serve the Lord. So this woman has grown up with neither low or high self-esteem. And that's great...... BUT, I couldn't help but notice in the picture at the end of the post how thin she was. She was maybe a size 4, probably a size 2 and therefore probably hasn't had to deal with many of the self-esteem issues that fuller figured girls have to deal with. Now I'm just filling in the blanks here, so stay with me, I have a point. My point is, can't we teach our daughters to love the way God created them as well as teach them to serve the Lord????<br />
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Let me tell you a little about me:<br />
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My self-esteem hasn't always been great, in fact it's always been quite low. I'm a curvy girl, so no matter what I ate or how many sports I played in HS, I was always slightly larger than my athlete friends. So much of it's genetics. I get my curves from my mom and when I was in HS we were really close to the same size and weight. My mom has always had low self-esteem and although she's told me my entire life how beautiful I am, she's never had much good to say about herself. And here lies the problem. How can you say I'm beautiful and you're fat when we look so much alike???? <br />
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And I'm not here to pick on my mom, because like I said, she's never said anything less than praises about me. And truthfully, I see most of my friends repeating the same thing, and most of my mom's friends did the same thing. For some reason we think we can have low self-esteem and somehow teach our daughters to have good self-esteem.<br />
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So how do we teach our daughters to love how God created them???? We teach them by showing them that <strong><u>we love how God created us</u></strong>!<br />
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As the mother of a beautiful 4yo girl, I have to be careful about everything I say in front of her. One thing I decided long ago was that my children would NEVER hear me put myself down.<br />
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<u>SCENERIO</u>: <br />
Over the summer my kids walked in the room when I was changing my shirt. I had on a bra already, but my 6yo son quickly said, "Ewww." <br />
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I knew it wasn't meant to put me down or hurt me. It was simply that I'm his mom and a girl and my body looks very different from his or his sister's. But this was a teachable moment that I wasn't going to let pass. My response was, "This stomach carried you and your sister. So I assure you, there is nothing gross about this body." <br />
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I scuffed up his hair and that was the end of that, and my daughter was there to witness it all. And you know what, I was pleasantly surprised that I meant what I said. <br />
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I'm now 5 months pregnant with my third child and my body changes daily it seems. And I'm not gonna lie, some days it's hard when I see the numbers on the scale rising just a little too fast, or the really cute, thin lady at church has a smaller stomach than me and she's a month further along than me. So I turn to the scriptures and let the Holy Spirit speak to me IN TRUTH. <br />
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<em>Psalm 139:14 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.</em><br />
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I have to remind myself that God doesn't make mistakes and that includes how He created me. And my children love my ever growing body because they know what it will produce. My son hasn't said anything insulting about my stomach. He now showers my belly with kisses every day. My daughter is just amazed and can't stop touching my belly. They don't see that I'm slightly over-weight. They just see the beauty of creation as God sees it.<br />
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So I want to sum all of this up by saying, "Moms, your daughters (and sons) are watching you. Please don't insult how God created you because chances are your daughter will grow up to look much the same. Don't just tell your daughter she's beautiful, teach her that she's beautiful by loving yourself. She'll reflect what she sees, not what she hears."<br />
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And please, stop using the D-word and F-word in front of your children. <br />
(This is a dangerous trend I see in so many of my Christian friends)<br />
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In our home we say healthy eating instead of DIET because that's what I want to teach my children. I don't want them remembering that mom yo-yo dieted. I want them to grow up knowing that healthy eating is important because we are to take care of the bodies God gave us.<br />
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And FAT is only ever a good word when you're talking about a juicy ribeye :) So don't use that word to describe yourself or anyone else for that matter. We are all His daughters and I'm sure God doesn't appreciate us slinging that word around either.<br />
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We reproduce what we are. So stay in the word and raise up a beautiful daughter of Christ. When this world and Satan try to tell you lies about yourself, find God's TRUTH in the word.<br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="112" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/541030_10151251283035884_1759495531_n.jpg?oh=e6698146d345492bd18f53f88f70482c&oe=54B22288&__gda__=1421975299_a293470e13015126e44b7198414506a2" style="height: 444px; width: 789px;" width="200" /><br />
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~Amber<br />
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(Check back next week for the second part of this:<strong> "If We Don't Teach Our Daughters What Beauty Is, The World Will"</strong><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-52441218260687475222014-05-20T13:56:00.004-04:002014-05-20T13:56:55.460-04:00MY GLUTEN FREE LIFE<br />
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I started this blog to share my writing trials and triumphs. It's been a couple of years and I've really stuck to that, but it's time to branch out. I'm not just a writer. I'm a Christian, wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend.</div>
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Recently many people have asked me for gluten-free recipes and tips. So, I've decided to expand my writing blog and share about my gluten-free life.</div>
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<b><u>HERE'S WHERE IT ALL BEGAN:</u></b></div>
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At the end of November 2013, my son developed a rash under both his arms and on the back of both his knees. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIwzkBktPwZJLNxF7EWnOtsUgxi1PfDC_zWunAIpkNTwtQNhxV8HE7WPlKA1NsvC_WQNGQZcZxw2WG0F24mOoyB1gapdsD-4hX3iXuYwI5Wv_GKNQU0VH2CGvwfgwiGGb7OUOGNIeuaQ/s1600/10337761_10102948609999402_6812542843937159446_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIwzkBktPwZJLNxF7EWnOtsUgxi1PfDC_zWunAIpkNTwtQNhxV8HE7WPlKA1NsvC_WQNGQZcZxw2WG0F24mOoyB1gapdsD-4hX3iXuYwI5Wv_GKNQU0VH2CGvwfgwiGGb7OUOGNIeuaQ/s1600/10337761_10102948609999402_6812542843937159446_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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I put lotion and aquaphor on it for about a week, but it just got worse. We took him to the dermatologist and they gave us a prescription strength cream, but no answers as to why he had the rash.</div>
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I didn't really care too much at that time, I just wanted him better.</div>
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The cream kept the rash from getting worse, but didn't make the rash go away. After using the cream for two weeks, the lotion was gone but his rash wasn't. At night he tossed and turned, scratching and clawing at his skin. I tried letting him sleep without clothes in case he was hot.</div>
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It didn't help.</div>
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I tried keeping clothes on him to make him stop scratching.</div>
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Still didn't help.</div>
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We went back to the dermatologist. They gave us a stronger prescription, but still no answers as to what it was and why he had it. I brought up the possibility of testing him for allergies. Numbers were tossed around in the $700-$1,100 range. An elephant came and sat on my chest.</div>
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We don't have health insurance because my husband is self-employed. I'm a stay-at-home mom with two little ones, trying to get by on my husband's small income.</div>
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I had two internal voices yelling at me. One shouted, "<i>We can't afford this!!!</i>" The other scolded, "<i>My son needs it! What kind of mother thinks about money at a time like this?</i>"</div>
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I declined at that time and told myself I would research and compare prices and when the time came, I would choose whatever he needed, no matter what the cost, but I would make wise decisions, not hasty ones. But I still felt like I couldn't breathe. The elephant on my chest wasn't going anywhere.</div>
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So, we tried the new prescription and I couldn't believe how quickly it helped!!! His rash cleared up under his arms and behind his knees, where we applied the cream.</div>
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BUT WITHIN A COUPLE OF DAYS IT SPREAD TO HIS CHEST AND STOMACH. Where we applied the cream was clear, but whatever was wrong with him wasn't fixed, it just had to find a new place to expose it's ugly head.</div>
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The elephant on my chest was gaining weight.</div>
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His body screamed at me to help! His skin shouted, "<i>I'm hurting! <b><u>YOU</u></b> ARE DOING SOMETHING WRONG AND I'M SHOWING YOU! NOW STOP POISONING THIS BODY!!!!</i>"</div>
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But what was wrong? Why was it getting worse? How was I going to figure it out before my child had permanent scarring?</div>
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ELEPHANT. ON. CHEST. CAN'T. BREATHE.</div>
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One night I locked myself in the bathroom, ran a bath of hot water, and sobbed. I've learned in my lifetime that there's only one "person" I need to cry to.</div>
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This mommy thing can be hard. This mommy thing can be scary. I'm reminded in these times how much I need God. I felt so helpless. All I knew to do was pray.</div>
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The next day I told my husband I was putting Wyatt on a strict diet and if it didn't help then we'd have to get him tested before his skin was permanently scarred, not to mention the damage that might have been going on on the inside.</div>
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I took him off of eggs, ham, dairy, gluten, and anything I could think of that might be an allergy related food. I explained to Wyatt that it would be really hard for him but it was just until I knew what was causing his rash.</div>
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He ate fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, and grilled chicken.</div>
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Within 48 hours his skin was nearly spotless!!!!! This rash, which had progressively gotten worse for 6 weeks, was gone in just 2 days!!!!!!</div>
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It was an answered prayer! The elephant got up and walked away. My son was better and there didn't appear to be any scarring once it cleared!</div>
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Slowly I added foods back into his diet keeping a close eye on his skin. We started with eggs. I allowed him to eat eggs for a few days and the rash didn't come back. So I added ham back into his diet. (The kid loves ham)</div>
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A few days passed and he was still clear.</div>
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Finally I added dairy. I was sure by now it was either dairy or gluten. So I picked one and prayed for the best.</div>
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Still no rash!!!!</div>
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By process of elimination, I found out my son was allergic to gluten. And just to prove that it wasn't a fluke, from time to time Wyatt's skin breaks-out again. His rashes are mild and we can usually trace it back to a slip-up where he was exposed to gluten.</div>
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For example: We ate at Buffalo's one day after church. We ordered Wyatt the grilled chicken (plain) and corn on the cob. The next day the back of his knees were broke-out.</div>
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I knew I hadn't prepared anything that would cause this (because by now I was a pro in the kitchen at gluten-free meals) so my suspicions were on Buffalo's.</div>
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We went there the following week, ordered the same food, and got the same results.</div>
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The third week we went and I asked the waitress how they cooked their corn on the cob. She said they fry it in the frier.</div>
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I'd found the guilty culprit! (For those who are new to gluten-free, they fry all sorts of breaded foods in the frier and people who are very sensitive will have a reaction. Corn is gluten free; Restaurant friers aren't). We ordered broccoli that time and he didn't break-out!!</div>
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So I'm learning as I go. Sometimes we have to test things and see how his body responds. Somethings we don't even try--if I'm certain it's gluten then we just don't risk it.</div>
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We bring gluten-free brownies to any kid event that will include cake or cookies, this way Wyatt doesn't feel deprived. I send gummie snacks to his teacher so she has treats for him whenever she gives out treats. I made sure he had his own Easter candy to replace the candies in the Easter eggs he found. It takes work and time and I have to be one step ahead, but it's worth it to see my child happy and healthy and enjoying all the things the other kids do, just with gluten-free foods!</div>
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I'll start posting recipes and all the yummy things we've discovered over these past few months. I'm in no way an expert, but I'll gladly share my trials, errors, and gluten-free successes. I'd love your recipes and stories as well!!</div>
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Thanks for reading!</div>
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~Amber</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-26440595601387511082014-05-20T13:47:00.003-04:002014-05-20T13:52:02.568-04:00GLUTEN FREE RECIPESOkay, here are some of my most popular recipes. Most of them I've found or been told and so I will try my best to give credit where it's due :)<br />
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Up first, my son's absolute FAVORITE gluten-free food!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV3oryWo3F09dStrTzZrylzntes0rgiNRdarBTHyoJIIFSTiSj5LRTDiT0f8NVADtDes7bWD6gkHbZnoAF2pqlYzGiB8Kd8FYaghralrv6KWaBL0kJmyOc-XUkpdSjfBfd6jsBhGOMxA/s1600/1513729_10102949029354012_7462598976168743891_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV3oryWo3F09dStrTzZrylzntes0rgiNRdarBTHyoJIIFSTiSj5LRTDiT0f8NVADtDes7bWD6gkHbZnoAF2pqlYzGiB8Kd8FYaghralrv6KWaBL0kJmyOc-XUkpdSjfBfd6jsBhGOMxA/s1600/1513729_10102949029354012_7462598976168743891_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><br />
<b><u>CHICKEN SALAD:</u></b><br />
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1.5 lbs. of boneless, skinless chicken thighs<br />
1 large or 2 small apples (I prefer pink ladies)<br />
20-30 purple grapes<br />
1tbsp mayonnaise<br />
1tsp salt<br />
1tsp pepper<br />
(optional nuts: walnuts or pecans chopped)<br />
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We all have different likes and dislikes. Use whichever fruit or chicken best suits you. Play with the recipe until it's your form of perfection :) I eyeball this recipe, so measurements are very adjustable.<br />
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Boil water, add chicken and cook for 15 minutes. (make sure it's cooked all the way through). Cut chicken into chunks.<br />
Dice apple (remove core).<br />
Cut grapes into quarters.<br />
Throw everything into a bowl and add mayonnaise.<br />
Stir with a spoon until it's evenly coated with mayonnaise.<br />
Add salt and pepper. Stir and serve :)<br />
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I like it best when it's been chilled. I've been known to make it in large batches because my husband and son eat it for every meal when it's available. Seriously, they go through it like crazy.<br />
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This recipe originated from SAM'S. I ate some of their chicken salad, loved it, and thought I could make it at home. This is what I came up with :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8RSRfqD-gDmmlvNZBa7FoaX1AgdFH9Q6rFjQ9apLdn5WT21zyIo3_RLZRMvJxXlRZx-wzlOvVRPazV1L95hA_v2szT_mh82gYcJyQV8ET6kzY72ym2CY7BcOs-neX6XLFptf7QvsPto/s1600/10402085_10102949029269182_7702485038580406937_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8RSRfqD-gDmmlvNZBa7FoaX1AgdFH9Q6rFjQ9apLdn5WT21zyIo3_RLZRMvJxXlRZx-wzlOvVRPazV1L95hA_v2szT_mh82gYcJyQV8ET6kzY72ym2CY7BcOs-neX6XLFptf7QvsPto/s1600/10402085_10102949029269182_7702485038580406937_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><br />
<b><u>CHOCOLATE CHEX:</u></b><br />
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1 box of Vanilla Chex cereal<br />
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (gluten free)<br />
1/4 cup butter<br />
1 tsp vanilla (gluten free)<br />
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Pour cereal into gallon sized ziploc bag.<br />
Melt butter in pan.<br />
Add chocolate to butter and melt, continuously stirring.<br />
Add vanilla.<br />
Pour melted chocolate, butter, vanilla into ziploc.<br />
Seal well and <i>shake it like a salt shaker</i>.<br />
Once everything is well coated, pour onto a baking sheet and chill in the fridge for an hour then it's ready to eat. (I put foil on my baking sheet to keep the chex from sticking)<br />
I usually put it in a container once chilled. Keep leftovers refrigerated.<br />
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This recipe can be found on many of the Chex boxes. I've just tweaked it a little to make it gluten free.<br />
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<b><u>CHEX MIX: </u></b><br />
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<b><u>(this recipe is too big to fit into one bag, so the instructions explain how to prepare for the large portion, you can half it if you'd rather)</u></b><br />
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1 box of Corn Chex<br />
1 bag of gluten free pretzel sticks (I use Glutino brand which I get at Ingles)<br />
2 sticks of butter<br />
2 packs of Hidden Valley original ranch dressing seasoning<br />
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Pour 1/2 cereal and 1/2 pretzels into gallon sized ziploc. Pour the other half of both into another gallon sized ziploc.<br />
Melt 2 sticks of butter.<br />
Pour half the butter into one bag and the other half into the other bag.<br />
Pour 1 pack of seasoning into one bag, the other pack of seasoning into the other bag.<br />
Seal well and <i>shake 'em like a salt shaker</i><br />
When everything is evenly coated, pour 1 bag onto baking sheet and bake in oven at 350 for 10 minutes.<br />
Remove that batch, store in container, and repeat with next batch.<br />
Now you have a large portion of Chex mix to take to a party or munch on for days :)<br />
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My mother-n-law gave me this recipe :)<br />
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<b><u>RICE KRISPY TREATS: </u></b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij09z2TuXS_wfQsmKyRiuH8H396W6IdB80ru_qmcbAls6BEpZVoGy0Dg74IOdBo7WcKJyrmcsPbKQ3EwxSWTyjGs_-3RnNWJOBauBAbaBMC5ARFnRG7ZEfwkJ76dwQnNb15fu78YyDDuM/s1600/10376863_10102949166638892_6427993497541618082_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij09z2TuXS_wfQsmKyRiuH8H396W6IdB80ru_qmcbAls6BEpZVoGy0Dg74IOdBo7WcKJyrmcsPbKQ3EwxSWTyjGs_-3RnNWJOBauBAbaBMC5ARFnRG7ZEfwkJ76dwQnNb15fu78YyDDuM/s1600/10376863_10102949166638892_6427993497541618082_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><b><u><br /></u></b><br />
6 cups of Rice Krispies Gluten Free cereal<br />
1 package (10 oz.) marshmallows<br />
3 tbsp butter<br />
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Have rectangle pan or glass dish ready and well coated with nonstick spray (Any size works, just depends on how thin or thick you want you treats to be)<br />
Melt butter over low heat.<br />
Add marshmallows and stir continuously until melted<br />
Add cereal and stir until evenly coated<br />
Immediately pour into dish<br />
Give it a few minutes to cool then use sheet of wax paper to press down until firmly packed in.<br />
Wait until it's fully at room temperature before cutting and serving. (no need to chill or bake, just store in closed container)<br />
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<b>Warning:</b> They are very sticky. I spray a spoon with butter to help get it from pot to dish.<br />
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I took this to Wyatt's class party yesterday and they were a big hit :) No one could tell they were gluten free, but they had that fresh, home cooked taste which my hubs said was better than the prepackaged ones.<br />
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I got this recipe from www.ricekrispies.com (It's the original recipe, just switched out with gf cereal)<br />
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I'll post more recipes another day.<br />
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~AmberUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-53909097228888664182014-05-15T18:30:00.001-04:002014-05-15T19:54:17.086-04:00WHEN GOD IS BIGGER THAN MY EXPECTATIONS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1njtS-kxmL2240ooSofWhJpJ31dfNKFzeUlTlZ35KqW_pQeOgpN3bzmow_8QJEYfQQtT2mvumw3zOGBGXaGHQMjwfneMNC4qZ-n21mGBmDTS2eBqgPqTj_4cAr2ZQYJiV8zLbOjXIDp8/s1600/10305052_497594997011058_984337108310303870_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1njtS-kxmL2240ooSofWhJpJ31dfNKFzeUlTlZ35KqW_pQeOgpN3bzmow_8QJEYfQQtT2mvumw3zOGBGXaGHQMjwfneMNC4qZ-n21mGBmDTS2eBqgPqTj_4cAr2ZQYJiV8zLbOjXIDp8/s1600/10305052_497594997011058_984337108310303870_n.jpg" height="231" width="320" /></a></div>
Choosing to do a <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1148282690/perfectly-broken-a-memoir-of-rape-and-redemption" target="_blank">KICKSTARTER (click to go to link)</a> to raise the funds for my memoir was scary because it was something that would be completely out of my control. I had no idea what to expect once the kickstarter was up and running. What would I do if it failed? Would that break my spirit? What if all those people who say they support me, really don't mean it?<br />
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I told myself that I had to trust in God to take care of this. If it was the right time, then He would pave the way. If it wasn't the right time, He would close this door and lead me in a different direction and I needed to trust His will for my life. I WOULD trust His will for my life.<br />
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What I figured would happen is somewhere around 30-50 of my closest friends and family would donate small amounts of $15-$30. I had a list of people in my head that I was sure would step in and help. I knew this still wouldn't get me to the needed amount of $4,500, but that's where I prayed God would step in and do a miracle.<br />
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This is where I laugh.<br />
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People are unpredictable. People are unreliable.<br />
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God is always the same. I had too much faith in people and not enough faith in God---A life long struggle of mine. But God is faithful to remind me who's in control.<br />
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I posted the kickstarter on my fb and almost instantly I had a $100 donation!!! A few minutes later I had another $100 donation!<br />
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Before five minutes was over, I had $200 worth of donations. As I wiped tears from my eyes I asked my husband who he thought it was from. We both figured it was a friend of my mom's who's always quick on fb. The second donation we weren't sure. I finally figured out how to check the names and when I saw the two names my mouth fell open and my eyes filled with tears.<br />
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I knew these names, but they weren't names I expected to see. One of them was an old friend who I hadn't seen in fourteen years (we live in different states). Another was a follower on twitter who I barely know at all.<br />
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I was speechless.<br />
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And then days passed with nothing. Several friends retweeted and helped spread the word on fb, but the donations weren't coming. And then church came and went and people just pretended like they didn't see my kickstarter on fb. And when I brought it up people just kind of brushed me off.<br />
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I found myself crying later that day, but this time they weren't happy tears; They were tears of disappointment.<br />
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It wasn't about the money as much as it was about the principle. I have done for many of these people and when I found myself in need..... well they just weren't interested.<br />
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I could rattle off dozens of names of people who I've brought food to when they had babies, bought gifts for on birthdays or baby shower gifts. I'm always eager to give. I LOVE to give.<br />
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After my EPIC pity party, I made my mind up about a few things.<br />
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#1-I was jumping to conclusions. Some of them might be waiting for payday. Some of them might be intentionally waiting until the end to make sure they donate enough. I needed to stop judging!!!! I NEEDED TO STOP BEING A SELFISH CRYBABY AND<b> <u>STOP JUDGING</u></b>!<br />
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#2-I would continue to give. Even if none of my church friends donated. I would continue to do for them when things came up because that's who I am.<br />
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#3-I wouldn't hold a grudge no matter what the outcome was. Bitterness eats away at a person.<br />
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I don't know what those people are going through and if they don't have the means to donate $15 then I need to be understanding.<br />
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So a couple of weeks have passed since and only 5 people from my church donated out of the 30 or so that I "expected". BUT those 5 people donated $895!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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WHOA!!! GOD IS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN MY OBSTACLES.<br />
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I've had several family members donate. And of course I've got to give a shout out to my mom! :) And remember that gap I mentioned, where the number of friends and family, plus the small donations I "expected", didn't equal the amount needed?<br />
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Well, so far I've had 9 people I don't know donate a total of $1,606!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These are people who have come across the kickstarter and were moved to donate!<br />
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On top of those numbers, there have been many people who weren't on my "expected" list who've donated. And when I get the notification saying that someone who I haven't seen in twelve years just donated $55, I'm left with my jaw on the floor.<br />
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God is all over this situation and I have been blown away! I can't believe the amounts being donated! I'm just in awe of His power.<br />
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As of right now I have 23 backers who've donated $4,196!!! Those two numbers together just blow my mind!!!!<br />
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So things haven't turned out how I "expected", but they've shown me how powerful God is.<br />
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The kickstarter is 93% funded and 9 days left to go. But I'm not worried. God's got this!!!! He is so much bigger than my "expectations"!!!<br />
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~Amber<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-18780320505416433232014-04-29T08:38:00.001-04:002014-04-29T08:41:54.030-04:00Check out my beautiful cover and please support my kickstarter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J3HscyzTM4xhCUUe51d_9NyG8G4L_7TxcS_8ULuc8cDsggpFdHgdGkjokELKVxoRU1Hhw5aSn5N-aRUWQHNVkkXz9DD2aVI5YskAQH5xNGgvEl53eSwLQZi6apLP7xo8CdQXHPUuSGA/s1600/MOCK+COVER+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J3HscyzTM4xhCUUe51d_9NyG8G4L_7TxcS_8ULuc8cDsggpFdHgdGkjokELKVxoRU1Hhw5aSn5N-aRUWQHNVkkXz9DD2aVI5YskAQH5xNGgvEl53eSwLQZi6apLP7xo8CdQXHPUuSGA/s1600/MOCK+COVER+2.jpg" height="460" width="640" /></a></div>
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With the help of <a href="http://www.christianphotoshops.com/" target="_blank">CHRISTIAN PHOTOSHOP</a>, I created this mock book cover for PERFECTLY BROKEN (his picture, I asked him to make her hair brown, which he did, then I was able to add the words). Isn't it gorgeous?<br />
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But I didn't do this just for fun, I created this mock cover to help promote my <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1148282690/perfectly-broken-a-memoir-of-rape-and-redemption" target="_blank">KICKSTARTER for PERFECTLY BROKEN</a>. Many of my writer friends have probably heard of kickstarter, but for those who haven't, let me explain.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, when God confirmed that I should self publish (which you can find in this blog post ---> <a href="http://servingtheson.blogspot.com/2014/04/lets-catch-up.html" target="_blank">LET'S CATCH UP</a>), I began to do my research. I quickly realized that I do not have any of the necessary skills to self publish all by myself. So I researched into different companies that assist with the self publishing and I came across <a href="http://www.westbowpress.com/" target="_blank">WESTBOW PRESS</a>.They are a Christian self publishing company that was created by THOMAS NELSON and ZONDERVAN (two if the top Christian publishing companies)! After looking through all they assist with and their package deals, I knew this was the company I wanted to use. I spoke to them over the phone. They and I were very excited, but after crunching my numbers, it was clear it would be at least 6 months before I could save enough money. The next day a writer friend of mine suggested I look into kickstarter. I had heard of it before, but hadn't ever participated.<br />
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Once again I did my research and instantly fell in love with the idea. </div>
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Kickstarter is a company that helps you raise the money needed to fund your project. What I love so much about kickstarter is that I get to give rewards for each donation. My pride struggles to accept handouts, but by giving rewards, I'm allowing my friends and family to donate money to help me and they get to walk away with goodies such as hardback copies of my memoir.<br />
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One thing that is both good (for you) and bad (for me) is that if the kickstarter isn't 100% funded at the end of the 30 days, then none of it is funded. So when you donate money, none of it gets charged until the kickstarter is complete. If all the funds are raised, you'll get an email stating the kickstarter was successful and you will then be charged the amount of your donation. The reason for this is that the rewards can only be fulfilled if all of the money is raised. So if only half the money is raised, then no one will be charged and none of the rewards will be sent.<br />
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So if the kickstarter isn't 100% successful, I'm back to square one,</div>
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rubbing pennies together until I have enough saved to publish. But I believe with all my heart this is what God has called me to do and I trust His will for my life. I'm leaning on my faith in His promises. So many of you have encouraged me and offered to help in a variety of way.<br />
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I can't thank you enough!</div>
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I'm so excited to be one step closer to sharing my memoir with the public! Will you help me get published by donating???? There are options to donate from $1 and up. And every donation over $15 gets a copy of PERFECTLY BROKEN (e-book, paperback, and hardback options). So it's kind of like pre-ordering my memoir, but you get to help me publish as well!!! I can't do this without your help!!<br />
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Here's the link to my kickstarter ---> <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1148282690/perfectly-broken-a-memoir-of-rape-and-redemption" target="_blank">PERFECTLY BROKEN KICKSTARTER</a> and if you absolutely can't spare a single dollar, you can still help me by promoting and sharing the link to my kickstarter!!! Word of mouth is priceless when it comes to self publishing!!!<br />
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Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post. All of your support has meant so much to me over these couple of years!!!<br />
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~Amber<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-84820862721710075932014-04-22T13:24:00.005-04:002014-04-23T08:10:01.501-04:00LET'S CATCH UPI feel so disconnected right now, but it's been a good thing. I decided to take several weeks away from social media to focus on Jesus; who He is and what He did for me, and what it is I'm supposed to do. In this time of deep reflection I greatly enjoyed some much needed family time as well. A lot happened while I was away.<br />
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On April 3rd, my husband and I traveled to Nashville, TN. and I gave my testimony in front of the camera for Christian Television Network. The air date hasn't been set yet, but I'm very excited. I have no clue what I said (I was so nervous), I just pray the Holy Spirit spoke loud and clear through me.<br />
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To know more about my testimony you can find it on this blog post here --> <a href="http://servingtheson.blogspot.com/2013/09/i-am-warrior-for-christ-heres-my-story.html" target="_blank">I am a warrior for Christ</a><br />
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Also, I've made a very BIG decision. I HAVE DECIDED TO SELF PUBLISH! Let me just say, this has been a very difficult decision. Some people jump at the idea to self publish. I on the other hand went kicking and screaming. It wasn't until I had a very LOUD confirmation from the Lord that I finally surrendered, but I'll get back to that in a second. Let me first explain this journey and how I ended up here.<br />
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Two years ago God laid it on my heart to write my memoir. The Holy Spirit in me kept telling me how healing the pages would be for so many women. So, as hard as it was for me to relive some of those days through my writing, I gave in to the call. What I didn't expect were all the rejections that followed. I mean, I WAS CALLED TO DO THIS, SO THIS ROAD WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SMOOTH, RIGHT? RIGHT?!!!<br />
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Well, Jesus has brought me to my knees time and time again through this journey continuously showing me that I can't do any of this on my own. Every time I feel like giving up, because it's so hard to keep getting rejections when I've poured my heart into these pages, I'll get an email from someone I've never met telling me how much my testimony has touched their heart and how they can't wait to read my memoir. Each tweet, DM, and email is like a hug from Jesus and He whispers, "Have faith that I will see you through to the other side of this."<br />
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I always wanted to be traditionally published because that would help spread the word about my story. It has never been and will never be about money, I just wanted my memoir to be available in stores to help spread the word.<br />
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I did have an agent for a year who made empty promises, but this post isn't going to be about wolves in sheep clothes. To sum it all up, I've exhausted my query efforts which amounted to--"This is powerful and healing and needs to be published, but memoirs are very hard to sell and I'm just not the right person for this."<br />
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A little over a week ago a very close friend of mine called me aside and handed me an envelope. I have to admit I was nervous. Her mood was unreadable. I opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Immediately I notice a check inside, but refused to look at it before reading the letter.<br />
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She wrote that she had been led by the Holy Spirit to give me money to help me self publish. Her and her husband had been praying about it for a week. (I had no clue!)<br />
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I bawled like a baby. In fact, we both bawled. It was a beautiful moment. It was also the confirmation I needed. It was God's answer to my endless prayers of, "Lord please show me the path you want me to travel."<br />
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So this is where I am. And although self publishing is completely terrifying to me, I have a deep peace in knowing this is in God's hands and He will see me through to the other side.<br />
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After research and prayer, I've decided to use WESTBOW Publishing to self publish. I've put two full years into this memoir, working endless hours at editing, platform, promotion, and all the in and outs of the writing world, so I want to make sure that when my memoir does enter this world it's as polished and professional as possible. (You can find the opening chapters to my memoir here --> <a href="http://ambermauldin.com/first-2-chapters.html" target="_blank">first two chapters</a> )<br />
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It still might be a while before I can save up enough to self publish (I have 1/3 of what I need), but I wanted to let everyone know what's been happening and how they can continue to pray. YOU ALL have been so amazingly supportive!!! I can never say thank you enough. I've met so many caring people and I thank God for you each and every day. I look forward to what Jesus has in store and the lives that will be touched and the hearts that will be healed through the power of the Holy Spirit. Thank you for following me on this journey. <br />
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<strong>HEBREWS 11:1 "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."</strong><br />
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<strong>11:6 "But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him."</strong><br />
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~Amber<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-14862825077586315122014-03-03T13:19:00.002-05:002014-03-27T21:00:09.520-04:00WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Today I came across this blog post that someone
wrote back in 2009: <a href="http://www.bhagwad.com/blog/2009/philosophy/5-reasons-why-i-wont-tip-you-if-youre-a-waiter.html/"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.bhagwad.com/blog/2009/philosophy/5-reasons-why-i-wont-tip-you-if-youre-a-waiter.html/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It made my blood boil. I was so outraged at the
cruelty, selfishness, and ignorance of the author. My first response was that I
needed to write a rebuttal, something along the lines of ‘Here are the reasons
I will ALWAYS tip a waiter at least 20%’. But as I plotted out the list in my
head, my own bitterness toward those type of people (the ones who don’t tip or
tip really low) came out. And I don’t think my points would be as strong. Rants
never sound good even when they have valid points.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, let me paint a picture for you in the way that I
know how, by writing a story. This is a true story about where I was 10 years
ago. (I’ve made up the family I served to make a point). </span></div>
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<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<em><span style="font-size: large;">WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW<o:p></o:p></span></em></h1>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I park my car in my usual spot and get out. Dread
fills my stomach. I’d give anything to be home on the couch, doped up with pain
meds and sleeping. Instead I’m here, gritting through the pain without any meds
because if I don’t work, the bills won’t get pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiik29GMef3Q_jIJGhL4A-mACDmjf8M4KHBKgtiJG03P62doF6x7KsgqvMeSKqt9fmxOSAgcqZvxxjLrcLaiqVKp7dyUej99Gi0Knj0F8p8T1R0EbH-93S6h5wlMRBu7IUgDqrlypE5rM/s1600/902034d428b3ab347e951ee4ce0be9e6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiik29GMef3Q_jIJGhL4A-mACDmjf8M4KHBKgtiJG03P62doF6x7KsgqvMeSKqt9fmxOSAgcqZvxxjLrcLaiqVKp7dyUej99Gi0Knj0F8p8T1R0EbH-93S6h5wlMRBu7IUgDqrlypE5rM/s1600/902034d428b3ab347e951ee4ce0be9e6.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My apron sags on my waist. I readjust it a little
tighter as I walk through the doors of Longhorn Steakhouse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Andrea stands at the bar, getting change for her
upcoming shift. She sees me and walks over. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says
quietly and I understand that to mean the she-witch must also be scheduled for
Andrea to be so relieved to see me. She squeezes my forearm and walks to the
hostess stand, no doubt to see what section she has tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I go to the back and clock in. The Friday night servers
trickle in, stocking glasses, making tea. I’m on bread duty tonight which means
I have to constantly check the bread to make sure there are always fresh, hot
loaves, but not too many that they burn. It’s an impossible station that will
have me working nonstop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Amber, I sat you at table 62,” the hostess calls to
me from the alley doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay, thanks.” I wash my hands and dry them,
pausing before walking out there. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God,
please give me the strength to get through this night.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Out at the table I’m greeted by four smiling faces—a
mom, dad, and their two teenagers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Welcome to Longhorn.” I place the drink napkins in
front of them. “Have you ever eaten here before?” It hurts to speak, but I keep
the smile on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They seem receptive and friendly. These are the kind
of tables I like. They make my nights not seem so bad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I finish the spiel we’re forced to say to customers,
take their drink orders, and head to the alley.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Someone opens the bread drawer. There are only two
loaves left. I kneel down and grab some loaves from under the cabinet and toss
them into the oven. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hey, did you talk to the doctor today?” Andrea sits
her tray down and loads three glasses on top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I press the timer for the bread and grab a tray to
load beside her. “Yeah. He said they still haven’t heard from the lab.” My
throat clenches and I swallow the lump. I refuse to cry at work. I refuse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Andrea sighs. “But how can they not know? They said they’d
know in one week and that was three weeks ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I know. The longer they take to diagnose it, the
more convinced I am that it’s really bad. He said it was most likely cancer,
but how many chin cancers are there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Andrea’s
eyes water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t you do that.” I point at her and shake my
head. If she starts crying then I will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m not.” She forces a smile. “I just got something
in my eyes.” She slides open the ice bin. It’s completely empty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We both sigh. Just great. I walk off to the back and
grab a bucket. Andrea joins me, grabbing the other bucket and we scoop ice into
both. I don’t even know why the managers put some of the servers on Friday
nights. It’s always the same people who don’t carry their weight and it’s
always the same people who have to pick up their slack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We finish loading our buckets, lug them up front,
and pour them into the bin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I pull out my notepad to make sure I get the drinks right
and scoop ice into each glass. I have to hurry now. It’s been several minutes since
I took their drink order.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Owen, the night manager, walks over and leans on the
wall. “Hey.” He reaches for the edge of my sleeve and tugs it to get my attention.
“How are you doing? Any news?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nothing yet.” I glance at him and shrug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He makes a face like he ate something sour. “Does it
hurt? It looks so painful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I roll my eyes and place a glass under the coke dispenser.
“Yes it hurts. It feels like someone hit me in the jaw with a baseball bat, but
thanks for reminding me how deformed my face is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t look
deformed. No one would even know you have a tumor. It just looks like you have
a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> big chin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Owen! Shut-up.” Andrea smacks his arm on her way
out of the alley with a tray of drinks in her other hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I finish loading the drinks and walk to my table
with a smile on my face, trying to pretend that Owen’s words don’t hurt my
feelings. I know he’s just a stupid guy who means well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I place the small tray on the edge of the table. My chin
throbs, but I force my motor skills to take over. I’ve grown used to the
constant ache over the past few weeks. Well, as used to it as anyone can. “Here
are your cokes.” I hand the teens and the dad their drinks. “And your sweet
tea.” I hand the mom her glass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She raises her brows and points to it like I sat a
rat down in front of her. “I asked for unsweet tea,” she sneers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh.” I put the glass back onto the tray. “I’m
sorry. I’ll get that right back to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mom, you totally said sweet tea,” her daughter
says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She shakes her head. “No, I said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">un</i>sweet.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“My mistake. I’ll get you unsweet.” I try to sound
as kind as I possibly can. I know she said sweet tea because I wrote it down as
soon as she said it, but I need her tip. The doctor bills are already piling up
from the biopsy and my $2.35 an hour goes straight to taxes. I reach for my
notepad. “Are you ready to order?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not until you get my drink?” She looks at me like I’m
a complete idiot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I reply like I’m the sweetest
person in the world, place my notepad back into my apron, and grab the tray
from the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s just an extra minute or so to get her a new
drink, but that extra minute could mean that several orders go to the kitchen
before theirs. The dining room is filling up quickly. Soon the cooks will be
slammed. It would be better for them if I could put in their order and then
bring her a drink, but whatever. The customer is always right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I get her drink and take their order with a smile.
The mom seems to have settled down, so maybe my chances at a decent tip aren’t
shot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I type their dinner order into the computer just as
the hostess double seats me. This girl’s been here a month and she still has no
clue what she’s doing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My stomach growls. I place my hand on my belly. The
hardest part about possibly having cancer and dying at the age of twenty is
that I’ll never get to be a mom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My eyes water. I shake my head and force that
thought to the back of my mind. I don’t get to be a person with feelings and
issues when I’m here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Act
professional.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keep
it together. Keep it together. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
I grab a solo cup and fill it with coke. I’m so hungry,
but chewing hurts too much and I’m sick to death of mashed potatoes. The soda
fills my stomach with carbonation which helps a little. It’ll have to do for
now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I walk to my new tables and take their drink orders
back to back. On my way to the drink station I notice the first table is
running low on soda. I grab the large tray, pull out my notepad to make sure I
get it right, and load the tray with all three tables worth of drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Everyone seems happy. They have full glasses, bread,
and their orders are in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Amber, your food’s up,” Ashley calls from the food
window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She helps me carry the plates out to the first
table. I make sure everyone's food is exactly how they ordered it, check and
see if there’s anything else I can get, and when they’ve assured me everything’s
great, I go to check on my other tables.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I walk off, out of the corner of my eyes I see
them bow their heads and the dad says something softly while they all listen. After
a few seconds, in unison they say, “Amen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I always like it when I see a family pray together.
It’s how I hoped to raise my family someday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Later, I stand in the back with Andrea, while I wait
for the first table to pay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Here you go, babe,” Whitney, the bartender, hands
me a shot glass with a teaspoon amount of whiskey in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thanks.” I smile at her and pretend I don’t notice
the ‘poor kid’ look in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’ll only give me about five minutes of relief, but
it’s something. I stick my pointer finger into the brown liquid and rub it on
my bottom gums, just below my front six teeth. It numbs in seconds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I check on my tables. My other two tables are eating
and everything seems good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The dad and mom from my first table stand up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I walk over and notice cash on top of their bill. “Do
you need any change?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“No, we’re good,” the mom says and gives me a fake
smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, thanks for coming. Have a nice evening,” I
say as genuinely as I can muster up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The daughter smiles at me as she slides out of the
booth. “Thanks. Everything was really good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” It’s nice to see she’s not
as rude as her mom. I reach for their glasses, which are the only things left
on the table, and load them all into my arms. The hostess will need to seat
this table right away, so I have to clean it immediately. I stuff their bill
and the wad of cash into my apron and head to the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After emptying the glasses and putting them in the
rack to be washed, I clean my hands for the millionth time and go to the
computer. I type in their table number. The order pops up and I flip to the close-out
screen. I pull the cash out of my pocket and thumb through it, counting in my
head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My eyes go wide. I look at the amount on the screen
and recount the money. Surely I miss-counted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After counting their money four times, the amount
hasn’t changed. They left me $73 on a bill that was $71.86.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My heart sinks to the pit of my empty stomach. I take
a slow breath and type into the computer that I received $80 in cash. For tax
purposes servers have to claim somewhere around 10% in tips. If we claim too
low it looks suspicious and the IRS gets involved. They want to make sure they
get their tax money. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I go through the night with a smile on my face, working
on autopilot because if I stop to think about the pain in my chin I will
collapse. My feet hurt too. I really need new shoes, but that’s the least of my
worries. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The restaurant closes and I start my nightly stock duties.
It takes me over an hour to finish. It’s nearly midnight by the time I can go
home. On my way out, Andrea hugs me goodnight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her shoulder grazes my chin. The pain is instant and
it consumes me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cry out and pull away. My eyes flood with tears. I
can’t hold them. My chin pounds like a drum. Spots appear in my peripheral
vision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh no!” Andrea puts her hand to her mouth. “I’m so
sorry. I’m so sorry.” She reaches for me, but pulls away like she’s scared she’ll
hurt me again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tears roll down my cheeks. I blink them away and
force my jaw to move despite the agonizing pain. “It’s okay,” I mumble, trying
not to use my lips or any muscles attached to my tumor. I let my jaw hang loose
in an effort to lessen the pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What can I do?” Andrea squeals. Her eyes water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I hold my hand up. “It’s fine.” I cover my mouth in case
I drool. Every nerve in my chin is on fire. It feels like someone just beat me
with a sledge hammer. I can’t say another word. I just need this night to be
over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I turn and leave, unable to comfort Andrea because
that would require more speaking and it just hurts too much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In my car, I slump over the steering wheel and let
the tears fall like rain. My chest heaves, but I can’t let any sound escape my
lips for fear of the extra pain it might cause. I sob silently until the pain
softens enough to bear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The events of the night run through my mind. It
really wasn’t a bad night. Most of my tables were great. I’m just in too much
pain to enjoy anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But that one family… My heart speeds up in anger.
How could they bow their heads and present themselves as Christians and then
basically spit in my face with that joke of a tip? I spent an hour serving
them, doing everything they asked of me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve been over everything that was said and done two
times and I didn’t do anything wrong aside from the drink mix up which wasn’t
even my fault. So, why would they treat me like that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I crank up my car. If I sit here any longer, someone
will come check on me and I don’t want that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On my way home, I think about that family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If those parents only knew what I was going through,
would they look at me differently? If they only knew the pain I was in, would
they be more generous? Maybe one day I’ll see them in Heaven and they’ll know
how cruel they were. Maybe one day they’ll understand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But until then, people like that should stick to
fast food. If you can’t afford the service at a restaurant then don’t go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sorry if this was a bit of a downer. Let me conclude with, I DID NOT have cancer. The tumor was diagnosed four weeks after the biopsy as Central Giant Cell Granuloma. It is a fairly common tumor that is typically slow in growth and painless, but mine was in the small percentage of fast growing, extremely painful tumors. I had three surgeries over the next year to remove it... because it was so aggressive, it came back twice and had to be removed again and again. But I'm happy to say that it's been 9 years since I've had any tumors.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I now have a loving husband and two wonderful children and I am very blessed, but my life wasn't always this way. I hope the next time you go out to eat, you think about your waiter as a person. You never know what they could be hiding behind their smile. Be kind. Be generous. But by golly, if you are going to bow your head and publicly praise Jesus, you'd better represent Him when you leave that tip. What if that server had decided to give church a try and then they got a table like the one I described above? OR what if that waiter went to church the following Sunday and then bumped into those people???? Now I doubt the author of that other blog is a Christian and it's clear in his mean post, but I know several Christians who I won't go to a restaurant with because I'm embarrassed at how they treat servers. If you love God, you should show it in how you treat others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Feel free to share this post with all of your cheap friends :) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">~Amber<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-40869425570806780682013-11-26T10:55:00.001-05:002013-11-26T10:55:32.329-05:00What God's love looks like<img alt="Picture" height="240" src="http://www.dragndropbuilder.com/uploads/3/3/6/1/3361336/80903_orig.jpg" style="max-width: 1066px; width: 100%;" width="320" />God's been working on me a lot lately. I'm not gonna lie, it's painful at times, but I know He's growing me into someone who looks more like HIm. He's just got a lot of junk to scrape away.<br /><span></span><br />Something God's put on my heart lately is love. And while I don't think I struggle with love, I know I struggle with forgiveness. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business, and if I haven't forgiven someone in my heart, then my fake smile, and fake words aren't true love; not the way Jesus loves. Because when He said my sins are forgiven, He meant it. So who am I to not forgive someone else when I've been forgiven? Who am I to not truly love someone else, when I am so truly loved by God?<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>What God has been speaking to my heart is--if I am His; if I am filled with The Holy Spirit, then I don't get to pick and choose <em><strong>who He loves through me</strong></em>.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>And I try to excuse it all away, "But God, did you see what she did to me?"<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>And He simply replies, "<span style="color: red;">I still love her</span>."<br /><span></span><br />"But God, did you hear what he said to me?"<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>"<span style="color: red;">I still love him</span>."<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>It's not easy for me to see the world through God's eyes. I see through my own hypocritical, self righteous eyes and God says, "<span style="color: red;">Amber, despite what they say or do, I STILL LOVE THEM. I'm trying to use you to show them how much I love them, but you keep getting in my way</span>."<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>So, I'm working on it. It's easy for me to love people I don't know. It's much harder for me to love people I've felt betrayed by, but if I am His hands and feet then I don't get to pick and choose.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-26335705173259736862013-11-26T10:51:00.003-05:002013-11-26T10:51:32.733-05:00PERFECT PEACE<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder" src="http://www.dragndropbuilder.com/uploads/3/3/6/1/3361336/5604805.jpg?310" style="border-width: 1px; margin: 5px 10px 10px 0px; padding: 3px;" /></a>A couple weeks ago someone emailed me asking for my advice. They were struggling with some bad memories and wanted to know how I came to peace with my past.<br /><br />I told her it wasn't all of the sudden. The truth is, the closer I am with God, the more at peace I am. But being close with God is a daily walk; it's a daily choice. Salvation is instant; you realize who Christ is, what He did for you, that you aren't worthy, but He loves you anyways and you need Him in your life and BOOM, you are saved.<br /><br /><strong>BUT</strong>..... the peace of God isn't instant. It comes from knowing Him, loving HIm, and proclaiming Him. It comes from walking with Him daily. When I asked that woman if she was attending church she said no. I didn't quiz her much after that one question because chances are, if she isn't attending a church, she most likely isn't reading her Bible daily either.<br /><br />Many Christians fall into that slump... <em>I've done it too. That's how I can say what I'm saying. I speak from experience.</em><br /><br />The problem is, when you are a Christian and living outside the will of God, you will be miserable. Simple as that. You can search for peace all around you, in people, your job, the bottom of a bottle, but you won't find it there because you've been called His, not theirs.<br /><br />God isn't someone you can keep in your back pocket and pull out when it's convenient to you. He wants to be a part of your morning, afternoon, and evening, and in return He promises to give you peace in every situation.<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder" src="http://www.dragndropbuilder.com/uploads/3/3/6/1/3361336/2089780.jpg?340" style="border-width: 1px; margin: 5px 0px 10px 10px; padding: 3px;" /></a>A friend came to see my husband the other day. He wanted advice because of marriage/family troubles. The problem is he wants God to show up in those situations, but this guy can't show up for church on Sunday.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">My pastor, Joe McKaig says it best when he says, "You can be a Christian and not attend church, but you can't be a good Christian." I'm sure that offends some, but it's the truth.<br /></span><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>ROMANS 14:19 <em>Let us therefore follow after the things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify another.</em></strong><br /><br />Walking with God is simple... pray, read your Bible, and attend a Bible teaching church. It isn't easy, but it is simple. The deeper you get into the word of God, the more it will change your heart and the way you view the world in every situation.<br /><br />People turn to me for advice, but my advice isn't always what they want to hear. I don't have some magic pill, or a perfect poem to ease the pain. I don't have the "instant gratification" answer they seek. I have a book I believe in and if you want the peace I have then you have to read it and believe what it says.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>2 TIMOTHY 2:15 <em>Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.</em></strong></span><br />
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<img alt="Picture" src="http://www.dragndropbuilder.com/uploads/3/3/6/1/3361336/455701.jpg?474" style="cursor: move; max-width: 100%; width: auto;" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-82163620209707727732013-11-21T07:04:00.001-05:002013-11-21T11:37:30.433-05:00KIM COWART'S AMAZIN' STORY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGZ4svaKwWyEaVsMCy4xHdCme9-bZWPb7InbZp905Sv3ibNikHiArK75RdIGND91dYpD34nXjSIFYX9wePVuv8LHGt1ZG3wl_KUPLZMiwy7Rg_QiakrlumnYcGMgUJOC4XyAX9pHpqvw/s1600/545895_507369969332467_1295785186_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGZ4svaKwWyEaVsMCy4xHdCme9-bZWPb7InbZp905Sv3ibNikHiArK75RdIGND91dYpD34nXjSIFYX9wePVuv8LHGt1ZG3wl_KUPLZMiwy7Rg_QiakrlumnYcGMgUJOC4XyAX9pHpqvw/s320/545895_507369969332467_1295785186_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Good morning, everyone. Today I get to share the story of a local celebrity.</div>
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If you live in the city of Cartersville, Ga. you've notice TEAM KIM shirts and car magnets EVERYWHERE!</div>
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And this isn't a small city, she's just that well known. Seriously, if I drive more than 10 minutes I'm bound to see several car magnets and usually on multiple cars. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiMRNRx-p0N2pzHmAPzXyvVjL8nx7H9ZdnK888l2afz1xSyxw0YGhGMzCqlN1ttzRVpCGbGgDJ-_5iPSrgxadzPtS5fSYmfa5ghMMmuc8VOkj4nIybQvw6-QqV0fFdItp8C411j-P8es/s1600/996635_10202245932133763_147779573_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiMRNRx-p0N2pzHmAPzXyvVjL8nx7H9ZdnK888l2afz1xSyxw0YGhGMzCqlN1ttzRVpCGbGgDJ-_5iPSrgxadzPtS5fSYmfa5ghMMmuc8VOkj4nIybQvw6-QqV0fFdItp8C411j-P8es/s320/996635_10202245932133763_147779573_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Meet Kim Cowart. She's been married to Brad Cowart for over twenty years. Their daughter is Madison Cowart (brunette to Kim's left). <br />
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Kim's the executive secretary at Northwest Georgia Public Health. She's an active member at Oakland Heights Baptist Church and she loves to sing country gospel.<br />
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Her faith in God and her family have kept her strong through a lifelong battle with diabetes.<br />
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Here's her story of faith, family, and friends and how with those three things anything is possible.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em><u>KIM COWART'S <span style="color: #cc0000;">AMAZIN'</span> STORY</u></em></span><br />
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By the age of seven I only weighed thirty-five pounds. My <br />
parents knew something was wrong, but they weren’t sure what. I was hospitalized <br />
and diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. <br />
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Back then you couldn’t check your sugar levels so I had to give myself an injection of insulin every day. I practiced on an orange and eventually it just became second nature.<br />
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When I went off to college, like most teens, I enjoyed the extra <br />
freedom. I figured the injections would keep my levels in check so I ate what I <br />
wanted and pretended nothing was wrong. I was just so sick of being diabetic. It <br />
was easier that way—to act like everything was okay. I thought if I ignored my <br />
health issues long enough maybe they would just go <br />
away.<br />
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By my second year of college I began to have problems with my <br />
eyes. My mind over matter trick wasn't working.<br />
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I had Lasik eye surgery to help with my eye sight and started watching <br />
what I ate a little better.<br />
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After college, I married Brad and we began our lives together. <br />
We had our daughter, Madison, and I just kept on dealing with my diabetes one <br />
day at a time and hoping for the best. And it seemed to work for a little <br />
while.<br />
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In 2004 I started having really bad indigestion. It kept me up <br />
at night and was really bothering me. Even my jaw hurt. I saw 4 doctors and they <br />
all said the same thing—“relax, you’re just stressed.” But I wasn't stressed. Something was wrong and I knew it, I just didn't know what.<br />
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One day at work my chest started hurting so bad I could barely <br />
move. My coworkers called the ambulance and I was rushed to the hospital. <br />
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My blood work came back normal, but they went ahead and put in a heart catheter just <br />
to be sure.<br />
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The results came back that I had <strong>FIVE</strong> blockages!! I needed surgery immediately. <br />
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The surgery went great and I went back to my normal life.<br />
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About four years ago I started having chest pains again. The <br />
doctor did another heart catheter and the results came back clean. So that was <br />
good, but since the dye used can affect other organs, they went ahead and <br />
checked my kidneys just to be on the safe side.<br />
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My levels were low… not what I wanted to hear.<br />
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They sent me to a kidney specialist. That doctor said I was in <br />
the safe zone, but he wanted to see me regularly for checkups. <br />
We decided not to tell our daughter because we didn’t want her to worry <br />
about something that might not even happen. We prayed for the best, always <br />
hoping my levels wouldn’t go below the red line. I didn’t worry about it much. I <br />
felt fine. I just kept on with my life, exercising and eating <br />
healthy.<br />
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This past April my doctor told me it was time to speak with a <br />
transplant specialist. My kidney levels were too low and they weren’t gonna get <br />
better.<br />
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If I’m being honest it was frustrating. I felt fine. I was working out and it just made me mad that my body wasn’t cooperating with all my efforts.<br />
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On May 30, 2013, I saw a team of specialist and they took 18 <br />
vials of blood. They started talking in numbers and long words. I needed a kidney and pancreas. Surgeries aren’t free and they wanted me to know exactly how much it was going to cost us. Maybe <br />
a better way of putting it is they wanted me to know we couldn’t afford the <br />
surgeries. And on top of that they wanted to let me know all the statistics. <br />
None of it was good. It was all too much. <br />
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By the time we left the office I was defeated. I’ve <br />
always tried to be positive. I love my life and I’ve dealt with my diabetes by <br />
keeping a good outlook on things. I love God and I have faith in His will, but <br />
that day there just didn’t seem to be any options.<br />
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My husband and I got in the car and headed home.<br />
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I could tell by his silence his mind was racing. I turned to him <br />
and said, “Let’s just let this play out.”<br />
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“What do you mean?” he asked.<br />
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“I feel fine. I’m sure I’ll live a few more years. It’d just be <br />
cheaper to let me die.” I knew what I was saying was hurtful, but I didn’t know <br />
what else to say. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t care about living, but I <br />
didn’t want to be a burden on my family. There was no way we could ever afford <br />
the surgeries I needed and we would just worry ourselves to death trying to make <br />
it work. I thought it would be better to enjoy the few years I had left <br />
then to stress over something we couldn’t afford.<br />
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When we got home, Brad’s best friend Patrick Nelson was there. <br />
Brad told me to go inside while he talked with Patrick.<br />
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Little did I know, God had a plan to use Brad and Patrick. God, in His infinite wisdom put Brad in my life all those years ago, and just shortly into our marriage, God brought Patrick into our lives. <br />
Patrick and Brad have been best friends for over twenty years.<br />
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The two of them would end up being the perfect men to carry out God’s will in my life.<br />
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God had placed a desire on Patrick’s heart a long time ago—something called <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><em>The Amazing Race</em>. Patrick loves the show and wanted to do something local—all he needed was the opportunity... insert me and my failing organs.<br /><br /> They formed a committee (with a quickness). Word got out <br /> instantly about what they wanted to do and people came by the dozens to volunteer, some of them we didn’t even know.<br />
It was crazy how many people wanted to help and how quickly everything came into place.<br />
<br />Brad and Patrick decided to have 12 teams of two people. (So <br /> many people wanted to participate they actually had to turn people away!)<br /><br /> My family, friends, and church stepped up in support. It was so <br /> overwhelming, but in the best, most amazing way. My husband sold car magnets and <br /> t-shirts to help raise money. He and Patrick spoke to sponsors and within a few <br /> weeks everything was set up for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BartowsAmazinRace" target="_blank">BARTOW'S AMAZIN' RACE</a>, all proceeds <br /> to go toward my kidney and pancreas replacement surgery which will be <br /> $100,000.00 (after insurance).<br /><br />I could tell you what happened next, but this video sums it <br /> up pretty well.</span><br />
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<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/g4P-_r2FltQ/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/g4P-_r2FltQ?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g4P-_r2FltQ?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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I forgot how BIG GOD IS. What seemed impossible, what seemed like too much, was something He planned from the start. I'm so humbled by all the love. It's as if God himself is loving me through all of these people. </div>
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I'm just in awe. I could never thank Him enough. </div>
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I'm on the transplant list and still awaiting a pancreas and Kidney. I'm actually excited about getting a new pancreas because it will mean for the first time in my life I won't have to battle with diabetes!!</div>
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God took my burdens and used people in my life and created something beautiful out of it all. </div>
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Only He could do that!</div>
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Thank you for reading my story.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-5850960283478781582013-10-29T09:06:00.000-04:002013-10-29T09:08:20.742-04:00In honor of HalloweenIn honor of Halloween, here's a scary flash fiction. It's an older piece I wrote a while ago. The rules for that contest were it couldn't be over 500 words and you had to put the word one-hundred in it. We were given this picture and this is what I came up with :)<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>A MOTHER'S LOVE</strong></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPWjKH8X-cnI1sm97AcolX8TRHD3TgllgiJQ86ajm1pO1Xa4h9mtXEsR7RoMF2wW27piLlw4kAmTOQLYvQEX1bOS2kyZI_120DKN0sQgZTA5DeMnjIb6er6-adAGTrTxhyphenhyphen7E_LjGtuZA/s1600/foggy-landscape-photo-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPWjKH8X-cnI1sm97AcolX8TRHD3TgllgiJQ86ajm1pO1Xa4h9mtXEsR7RoMF2wW27piLlw4kAmTOQLYvQEX1bOS2kyZI_120DKN0sQgZTA5DeMnjIb6er6-adAGTrTxhyphenhyphen7E_LjGtuZA/s320/foggy-landscape-photo-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I crouched behind a stump. I couldn't move—couldn’t
breathe. All I could do was watch. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The headlights topped the hill and came
closer. I wanted to cry out to them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stop,
please</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Go the other way. It isn’t
safe. You aren’t safe</i>. But my instinct for survival was stronger than my
humanity. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Gravel crunched under the
tires as they drew near. I could just make out the shadows of two people in the
front seat. They'd made it halfway through the tree line. Maybe they’d make it.
Maybe this time—</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A tree limb reached under
the vehicle. Another arm of the tree swung over the top of the car and lifted
it off the road. The giant oak wrapped all of its limbs around the car and
crushed it as if it were a tin can.</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I clasped my hand to my mouth to trap my
cries. My heart collapsed inside of me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No. Please, oh no. Why'd they come this way?
Everyone knows these trees are evil. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Two women screamed
inside the mangled car. It was the worse sound I’d ever heard... until the
screams stopped. Now the crunching of metal and bones was definitely the worst sound
I’d ever heard.</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
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</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They were dead. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
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</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Soon, I would be too.</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Another tree cracked and snapped, like it was
popping its knuckles, as it awoke. It snatched the crumbled, metal ball from
its neighbor. The first tree grabbed it back. They struggled over ownership,
pulling and tugging at their new toy. Their trunks remained rooted, but their
braches reached far knocking into other trees and awakening them. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was no way I could get past them. I
needed to go now, but I couldn’t tell the regular trees from the alive ones
until they moved—then it would be too late—just the way it was too late for the
women.</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just beyond those trees, my son was dying. In
my pocket were the ingredients that would save him. I traveled for days for
them, once thought to be extinct. Now all that separated me from my child were
one-hundred monstrous trees. There wasn’t enough time to go around. They said
my son wouldn't live three days. It's been four.</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If I tried to sneak through the trees, the
leaves and debris would be too loud. The road was open, but smooth. I'd be
seen, but it was the clearest path. I rose to my feet. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Embedded in the stump was the blade of an ax.
The long, wooden handle had bloody handprints on it. I placed my fingers over
the blood stains and ripped the ax from its post. </span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
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</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I would get to my son.
Nothing would stop me.</span><span style="color: #4c0a4c; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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So what did you think? I really enjoyed letting this picture create a story in my head :) Hope everyone has a wonderful Halloween :)<br />
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~Amber<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-81100289596029618892013-10-14T11:09:00.000-04:002013-10-14T11:37:13.306-04:00Meet Kate Battistelli -- A WARRIOR FOR CHRIST<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Last Monday I had the incredible privilege to eat lunch with <a href="https://twitter.com/katebattistelli" target="_blank"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">KATE BATTISTELLI</span></i></b></a><span id="goog_1600457008"></span><span id="goog_1600457009"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>. We talked for hours. I shared much of my "warrior" story with her and she shared her story with me. I can't say enough about how kind and genuine she is, and what a great example of living out your faith she is. It is such a honor to have met her and to now share her warrior story on my blog. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Warrior stories are when God does something tragic in someone's life and in the midst of the pain they just can't see why. BUT eventually God reveals to them the purpose for it all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">God took Kate down a dark road, but today she can look back and see exactly why He did it. You will be blown away by her story! God is so amazing!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana;">So first let me introduce you to her, then I will share her incredible story and the power of God through it all!!</span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk3aCQCa4it7SQxzdqPEO4QbRk90DDtDE1HHt6gRTVM9o60oo5kjJyVW6wy_6xc31FDwZZ0tiI6sPr150LywGf4PaSgmrepxMh1RWvLAgW-c4U0oapavl8xHd39E_eiqBF97qqjGT5Ss/s1600/tkelly_Battist_403ret-212x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk3aCQCa4it7SQxzdqPEO4QbRk90DDtDE1HHt6gRTVM9o60oo5kjJyVW6wy_6xc31FDwZZ0tiI6sPr150LywGf4PaSgmrepxMh1RWvLAgW-c4U0oapavl8xHd39E_eiqBF97qqjGT5Ss/s200/tkelly_Battist_403ret-212x300.jpg" width="141" /></a><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Kate Battistelli</span></strong><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal small/normal verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is a wife, former Broadway actress, and mom to one of Christian music’s most celebrated new recording artists—Grammy-nominated, Christian contemporary singer-songwriter Francesca Battistelli. Kate currently writes a popular blog at TheKitchenPrincess.com, volunteers at ESTHER Single Mothers Outreach, and is thoroughly enjoying her newest role as grandmother to Francesca’s children, Eli and Audrey Jane.</span></span></div>
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<u>THIS IS HER WARRIOR STORY</u><br />
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<u></u><b><u>THE BEGINNING:</u></b> (quoted from Growing GREAT KIDS)<br />
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"To make a long story short, I got the role of the understudy (on Broadway) and happily packed my steamer trunk and went out on the road. I faithfully rehearsed my part, never thinking I would ever really get the chance to perform. But when preparation meets opportunity, miracles can happen! LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST About two months into the run of the show, I arrived at the theater around 7:15 p.m. for the 8:00 p.m. curtain, only to find out the leading lady was sick and I was going on for the first time as the leading lady in forty-five minutes! I knew my part well but had never worn the costumes or handled the props, let alone been onstage with Yul Brynner! I was freaking out, but I had to focus and get ready. The night turned out well, and I got to perform the role of Anna for two weeks while the leading lady was out with pneumonia. In the end, Yul Brynner (who not only starred in the show but was also one of its producers) preferred me in the role, so he bought out the leading lady’s contract and offered me the role of a lifetime! It was an amazing time for me. I was privileged to play the part of Anna more than a thousand times, before more than a million theatergoers, over the next two and a half years!<br />
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The best part of the entire experience, though, was meeting my husband, Mike. He joined the tour about six months into the run of the show as the associate conductor, and as he likes to say, we literally fell in love across the footlights! <br />
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After performing eight shows a week for the next two and a half years, we left the tour, moved back to New York City, got married, bought a little condo in Greenwich Village, and began our new life together. A year later we found ourselves answering an altar call and giving our hearts to the Lord. Franny was born a year later, and we thoroughly enjoyed our new little family amid all the excitement of living and working in the hustle and bustle of New York’s music and theater world. <br />
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It wasn’t long, though, before we began to feel the tug on our hearts to lay down the business we had worked so hard to find our way in and follow what God had in store for us next. Bucking conventional wisdom but following what we believed was God’s best for our family, we eventually left New York and our careers behind to embark on building a new life that included moving to the suburbs, starting a new business, and homeschooling our little girl."<br />
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(quoted from GROWING GREAT KIDS) Battistelli, Kate (2012-01-03). Growing Great Kids: Partner With God to Cultivate His Purpose in Your Child's Life (p. 15). Charisma House. Kindle Edition. <br />
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To read the rest of this AMAZING story (BELIEVE ME YOU WANT TO--IT'S SOOOO MOVING!) PLEASE CLICK ON THIS NEXT LINK which will connect you to her blog. BUT COME RIGHT BCK AND ENTER TO WIN A COPY OF HER BOOK!!!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://katebattistelli.com/faith/answered-prayer-but-not-the-way-i-thought/" target="_blank"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">THE REST OF THE STORY</span></i></b></a><br />
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Are you back? Wasn't that a touching story???? It seemed like God had taken something from her, when all along He just had much bigger plans for her family than she did!! It just gives me goosebumps all over my body :)<br />
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Now onto the goodies! Here's what the prize is:<br />
<br />
An autographed copy of <em><strong>Growing GREAT KIDS</strong>.</em><br />
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<u><strong>THE BLURB:</strong></u><br />
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<b>Help your child become everything God made them to be</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipRQ6DVyIV0CUvp-_knzbUcMGdx1Ey-vZ3YaIxTgMsCOoYe1Zktt7EmAiuC1PevhIWvYTcodhrxHQVDCajR42KSDWv4r2ieWK73BziBSqmzYgvujAMJL-iasAHBGBLtGPL1eqDBdKaDY/s1600/qjhwue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipRQ6DVyIV0CUvp-_knzbUcMGdx1Ey-vZ3YaIxTgMsCOoYe1Zktt7EmAiuC1PevhIWvYTcodhrxHQVDCajR42KSDWv4r2ieWK73BziBSqmzYgvujAMJL-iasAHBGBLtGPL1eqDBdKaDY/s200/qjhwue.jpg" width="150" /></a>Successful adults don’t happen by accident. It takes wisdom to raise your children with a strong sense of their destiny in God and a deep knowledge of their gifts and callings.</div>
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In<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Growing Great Kids,</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Kate Battistelli shares what she and her husband, Mike, learned about parenting during the journey of raising their daughter—Dove Award–winning recording artist Francesca Battistelli. Using anecdotes to illustrate the insights she and her husband gained, she provides practical advice including:</div>
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<ul style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: small/normal verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; list-style-type: disc; margin: 20px; padding: 0px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<li style="margin: 0.5em 0em;"><div>
How to dream God’s big dream for your child</div>
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<li style="margin: 0.5em 0em;"><div>
The value of humility and integrity</div>
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How to interpret God’s seasons in a child’s life</div>
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The power of a parent’s words, and more</div>
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</ul>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><strong><u>Here's what people are saying about it:</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Courtney wrote in her review:</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"> "<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">She uses amazing scripture verses to make her points. At the end of each chapter she gives you questions to answer that help you think about your parenting style and find the things you can improve on."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Pat Fenner wrote: "<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Unlike many parenting books I've read over the years, Kate Battistelli offers views and a vision of a much bigger picture. Dealing with issues such as integrity, honesty, character and calling, this is no "how to" book."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Simplyme wrote: "<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was inspired by how much Kate showed she relied on God to help her in her role of mom. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The focus on praying really stood out to me in a HUGE way. That is something that I will do more of now."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/20px Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">There are many chances to enter and you have all week to enter multiple times :) One winner will be chosen at random on Sunday. The more times you enter the better your chances are :)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font: normal normal normal 14px/20px Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span></span>
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<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-24984533972274821172013-10-11T13:27:00.002-04:002014-01-29T20:08:55.350-05:00THE TRUTH ABOUT NONFICTION--I NEED YOUR HELPThe truth about nonfiction is it's hard to write, but even harder to sell.<br />
<br />
I know I have a good story. Heck, I know my story is great! So why is it so hard to sell? One word explains it all= PLATFORM.<br />
<br />
With nonfiction you have to have a platform BEFORE the publishers will even look at your ms. A platform can vary, but it boils down to two simple questions.<br />
<br />
How many people know your name?<br />
<br />
How many people know/want to know your story?<br />
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For me the answer is a couple hundred.</div>
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For publishers to pay attention to me the answer needs to be <b>thousands</b>.</div>
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So for ANYONE with a recognizable name, even if it's just that you are related to a famous person, you've got an instant platform right there! BUT for the average Joe-smo (like me) not having a built in platform attached to my last name, it means a TON of work.<br />
<br />
I have friends ask when will my memoir be published. Well, the simple answer is, when I have a solid platform.<br />
<br />
So, I'm here to ask for help. <br />
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I have so many people out there praying for me and supporting me with their kind words.... And I am so grateful....If you could just take it <i>one</i> step further.....<br />
<br />
<br />
SPREAD THE WORD!!!<br />
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<br />
How?<br />
<br />
Well, I have a Facebook author page and many of my friends have "liked" it, but has anyone "shared" the page and asked their friends to "like" it????? That would be HUGE!! EPIC!!! COLOSSAL!!<br />
<br />
Something simple like-- "I've got a friend who's trying to get her memoir published. It's about what her life was like after being abducted and raped. She turned to God for strength and learned what it meant to truly trust Him in every situation. So could you please help support her?? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS LIKE HER AUTHOR PAGE! Let's show those publishers we want them to print her memoir! Thanks in advance! the link is --> https://www.facebook.com/pages/Amber-Mauldin/356857944418098<br />
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BELIEVE ME, I HATE IT SO MUCH THAT IT'S A NUMBERS GAME, BUT THE SAD TRUTH IS--IT IS! If a publisher sees I have 100 likes that means they <i><b>might</b></i> sell 20 memoirs. That would be a <b>total</b> profit loss for them and they won't risk it. But if they see 10,000 likes, they are going to perk up and realize "okay, people are really rooting for this girl, maybe I should give her a chance too."<br />
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And please, I feel the need to explain to my non-writer friends, this has never been and will never be about "getting rich". <br />
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About 1% of authors make the big bucks. Most authors barely make a few thousand a year! THEY MAKE LESS THAN EMPLOYEES WORKING AT MCDONALD'S!!! Seriously! By the time the publishers, agents, editors, and all the other people involved get their cut of the profits, the writer ends up with pennies on the dollar.<br />
<br />
So why do it???<br />
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<b><i>Because if I don't share my story with the world I might actually explode.</i></b> <br />
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Okay, so maybe my head won't actually explode, but sometimes it feels overwhelming. </div>
I just know my memoir would touch and impact so many lives for the Lord! And I know God has a plan for it, but I believe He wants to see me working for it daily. God doesn't want me sitting around waiting for Him to do it all.<br />
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I have faith in Him, but I know He is teaching me and testing me everyday so I can grow into the person He wants me to be.<br />
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This is a journey; not a destination.<br />
<br />
Another way to build my platform is through public speaking. I've spoken a couple of times at my church and have another scheduled in November at a church a city away. If you know of any opportunities for public speaking <b><i>please</i></b> let me know. I don't care if it's a coffee shop, a youth group, an elderly women's group or in front of an entire church... my story is applicable to all (Turning to God during suffering). It's scary to stand in front of people an tell them about the hardest time in my life, but it honors the Lord. Many people go through difficult times, so if I can encourage others through what I learned, then I'm willing to put aside my fears and be bold for God.<br />
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<br />
So please help spread the word. Every retweet, share, tag, and post makes a difference. It's time to reach out past the people I know, but I can't do it without your help! Thanks sooo much!!!<br />
<br />
EPHESIANS 6:20 "For which I am an ambassador in bonds: that herein I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak."<br />
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~Amber<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-48197180070437278102013-09-02T12:53:00.004-04:002016-02-05T11:39:32.878-05:00I AM A WARRIOR FOR CHRIST (Here's my story)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Hey there, my name's Amber Mauldin. I'm a Christian, wife, and mother to the most amazing 2 children EVER. I get the pleasure of staying home to raise my five-year-old and three-year-old and when I'm not wiping noses and playing make-believe, I'm in front of my laptop typing away. I wrote a memoir and am on the road to publication. I am a public speaker and eager to share my testimony in front of any group, small or large. If you're interested in having me speak at your next function (church, school, women's group, conference) please contact me.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Here's my story:<br />
<br />
The story I’m going to share
will be hard to read, but like so many stories in The Bible, it’s through my
suffering God grew me closer to Him.<o:p></o:p><br />
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
So here it goes....<br />
<u1:p><br />
When I was fifteen-years-old I was kidnapped, beaten, raped, and then tossed
out on the side of the road. The last thing my attacker said to me was,
"If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
The moment he let me go, I ran to the nearest house and told them to call
911.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
A woman answered the door. She called the police, and shortly after that, I
was taken to the police station. They put me in a shoebox of a room and
interrogated me like a criminal. After hours of repeating the same, horrible
story, I was taken to the hospital.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
As if my body hadn’t been violated enough in one day, I was then
prodded like a lab rat. The nurse treated me like I was contagious,
like if she got too close, or looked too hard, she might catch my sorrow. She
looked at me but didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i> me.<br />
<u1:p><br />
By the time I got home, there was nothing left of me. My spirit was
shattered.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>Although I hadn’t been living like one, I was a Christian. Like any
broken spirited Christian, I prayed. I laid the shattered pieces of my soul
before God and cried out to Him. I didn’t know why He let this happen. I
believed there was a reason and I knew I was supposed to trust that. I knew it
was supposed to be enough, but it wasn't. I asked God to show me why He allowed
that to happen to me. I needed to know <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i></b>.<br />
<u1:p><br />
The next two days were complete torture.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I was lost inside my head. I didn’t know how to get back. It was like I was sealed up in a time capsule. The world still spun. The sun rose and set.
People went on with life around me as if nothing happened. <u1:p>But I was frozen in this shell of a person, locked in my grief, forever
trapped in a car with a monster, unable to escape my memories.<br />
<br />
<u1:p>
On the third day, my detective came to see me. He showed me six
pictures—faces of men. He asked me if any of them was the man who attacked me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Praise God, my rapist was one of the pictures. They had him in custody, but what next?</i><br />
<u1:p><br />
The detective assured me that man would remain behind bars until the trial.
I was told a state appointed lawyer would contact me soon, and then he left.<br />
<u1:p><br />
And you know, there was some relief, knowing my rapist was behind bars, but
it wasn’t what I hoped I would feel. Knowing he was locked away helped with the
fear, but it didn’t touch all the other emotions. His arrest didn’t fix me. My
wounds were too deep.<br />
<u1:p><br />
I met with my lawyer within a few weeks. We went through the details of my
attack so she could prepare a case against my rapist.<br />
<u1:p><br />
She told me I was his third victim. She didn’t say much about
it, because she was still sorting through the details and evidence of each
case. She just told me he raped two women just a few weeks before me. She said
she’d be back in touch when she needed me, and that was that.<br />
<u1:p><br />
Once again, I was left with this mess of feelings. I did my best to
process my emotions, but it didn’t work. <u1:p>Anyone within a ten foot radius of me was subject to my wrath, which meant
they were likely to get punched, kicked, or cussed out at any given moment. I
was a field of landmines. Press any one of my buttons and I would explode.<br />
<u1:p><br />
I got in fights at school. I got in neighborhood fights. I just needed to
hit something, all the time.<br />
<u1:p><br />
My mom, like any mother should, took my butt to church. I hadn't been since my rape and the last thing I wanted was to be around more people.<br />
<u1:p><br />
It was a Wednesday night which meant youth group. <br />
<u1:p><br />
After it was over, my youth pastor asked to speak to me alone. I really
didn’t want to talk to him, but out of all the adults in
my life, he was the only one I actually liked. I always respected him.<br />
<u1:p><br />
It was immediately obvious he’d been told about my situation, so I wasn’t surprised when
he asked me how I was dealing with the aftermath.<br />
<u1:p><br />
Since I respected him, I didn't try to lie. I told him I was a complete mess. I hated everyone around me for being happy
when I was so miserable. I didn’t even know how to have a basic conversation
with the people in my life because none of them understood what I was going
through. I hated all of my friends for being so shallow. And I felt like God <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">care</i>. God gave me a load that was just too heavy for me to carry. I knew somewhere in
The Bible it said He would never give us more than we could take. But I
felt like that was a lie because this was more
than I could take.<br />
<u1:p><br />
My youth pastor sat and listened quietly. When I was done unloading he told me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the smartest thing
I’ve ever heard a person say. </i>He said, “I wish I knew what to say to you.
But I don’t. All I can tell you is, the answers you need in your life are in
this book.” And he put his hand on his Bible.<br />
<u1:p><br />
Now you can imagine there was some eye rolling on my part. Like most
teenagers, I thought, what on earth would some ancient book have to do with my situation?<br />
<u1:p><br />
I’m guessing he could tell I was hesitant because he asked me for a favor.
He asked me to read just one book of The
Bible. He said not to worry about the rest of The Bible just yet. All he wanted
me to do was read the book of JOB, then he wanted to discuss it with me next
week.<br />
<u1:p><br />
So fine, whatever. I had no idea what that book was about, but I agreed to
read it just to get him off my back.<br />
<u1:p><br />
Now, for those of you who know what the book of JOB is about, you’re
probably putting two and two together, but for those who might not know, I’ll
break it down for you.<br />
<u1:p><br />
One day Satan goes to Heaven.<br />
<u1:p><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">JOB 1:7</b> And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then
Satan answered the Lord and said, from going to and fro on the earth, and from
walking up and down it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>
Basically, he bragged about all
the wickedness he did on earth.<br />
<u1:p><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">JOB 1:8</b> And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my
servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and upright
man, one that feareth God and escheweth evil?<br />
<u1:p><br />
But Satan tells God, of course
Job is faithful. You’ve given him a perfect life.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">JOB 2:6</b> And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, he is in thine hands;
but save his life.<br />
<u1:p><br />
Job’s crops, all his masses of livestock, and even his children all die in a
domino effect of tragedies, one after the other. Satan even covered Job in
boils. Job’s wife told him to just curse God and die already.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">JOB 2:10</b> But he said unto her, Thou speakest as
one of the foolish women speaketh. What? Shall we receive good at the hand of
God, and shall we not receive evil? In all this did not Job sin with his lips.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>He longed for the past, and even
prayed for death. He was confused and broken, and he wanted God to take him
away from this world and all his suffering. But he never turned his back on
God. And he refused to curse God. Job continued to love and praise God even in
his grief. And at the end, God blessed Job twice as much as Job’s
previous days.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I related to Job’s deep
suffering, but I didn’t relate to his faith. He handled his pain with grace and
honor; I hadn’t. It was like someone punched me in the gut. It was clear to me
I needed to have faith like Job, but I just didn’t know how. It didn’t
make sense to me why God allowed suffering like that.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I met with my youth pastor the
following Wednesday and we talked about Job. One of my questions was, “Why
would God allow that to happen to Job just to prove Satan wrong? Didn’t God
love Job more than Satan?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>My youth pastor said, “God is
omniscient. God is not affected by time. He knows everything, beginning and
end.” He paused to think. “What if, in those moments of Job’s suffering, God
was thinking of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>?
What if God knew one day you would need to read Job’s story? Job knew there was
a purpose in it all. He knew he was a part of a bigger picture and he trusted
God. What if you are a part of that same picture?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I left that evening with my brain on fire. It was like trying to solve
calculus. I couldn’t fully grasp what he said, but I couldn’t stop thinking
about it. The God of Job was the same God watching me right then. God knew way back then
what would happen to me thousands of years later???<br />
<br />
<u1:p>Every time doubt crept in—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why would God care
about me? I’m nobody?</i> I’d hear Jason’s voice in my head, “But What if?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>What if?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I wanted to know more.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>My Christian life was one-sided up until that point. I prayed when something was on my mind. God
knew all about me and my problems, but I didn’t know Him. For the first time, I
wanted to know Him—I mean really know Him in a one on one basis. I wanted to
trust Him the way Job did.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I dove into The Bible. It became the food my soul had been starving for. I
began to need the word of God in my life the way I needed oxygen. It was the
only thing in this world that made sense to me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
It’s funny because before that, the world made sense and The Bible was this
ancient, foreign thing that wasn’t relatable to my life. But after my rape the
world became so confusing. My friends complained over clothes and boys. Those things were the furthest from my mind. The outside world was chaos. The
Bible was the only thing that steadied me. It became my solid ground. It was my rock, but more than that, it was my
shield. It was my safe house.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I needed to sit at Jesus’ feet daily. My soul longed for Him. I didn’t care what went on around me,
I just needed to dwell with Him and listen.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I no longer cared if He fixed my problems. I
just needed Him to fix me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2 Timothy 2:15</b> Study to shew
thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not be ashamed, rightly
dividing the word of truth.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2 TIMOTHY 2:21</b> If a man therefore
purge himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified, and
meet for the master’s use and prepared unto every good work.<o:p></o:p><br />
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
Without even realizing it, I began to heal. I trusted God because I needed
to, because the alternative for me was death. I simply could not do any of it,
alone, anymore.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>And let me tell you, there is something so beautiful about being <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfectly broken</i>
and rebuilt by God.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I met with my lawyer again. She filled me in on more of the details of my
case. She told me she was very confident—because I reported it right away and
went to the hospital, my case looked pretty solid. And she was counting on it,
because she didn’t have as strong of a case for the other two victims.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>He raped the three of us within weeks of each other. With each crime he grew
more violent and more daring.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>The first rape was a date rape. The second rape, he lured a woman out of a
night club. Both of the women waited days to report it because they were so
traumatized. By the time they did report it, they had no physical evidence. By
the time he got to me, he’d escalated to kidnapping.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>Since my case was the strongest, she wanted me to go to court first. She
needed me to take the stand and tell a jury what he did to me. She needed me to
fight for all three of us because she wasn’t sure if she would get justice for
the other two women.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I left her office that day with my mind blown again. It was like God Himself
came down from Heaven and smacked me upside my head. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I finally understood</i></b>.
I was a part of a bigger picture. I was so wrapped up in myself, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i></b> grief, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i></b> pain. I
never thought those other women might need <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i></b> help. It
was as if God whispered in my ear, “You asked me to show you why, and now you
see; It’s because <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">IT’S
NOT ABOUT <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">YOU</i></b>!”<o:p></o:p><br />
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
Please understand, I could never compare what I went through to what Jesus
Christ went through, but as a Christian whose goal is to be like Christ, and as
a person who is filled with the Holy Spirit, in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> moment, I
understood what it meant to take up the cross—I understood what it meant to
suffer for someone else.<o:p></o:p><br />
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
I took the stand and testified against my rapist a year after his crimes.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>It was terrifying, but I knew somehow, someway, no matter what the verdict
was, I would make it. I would be okay. I had no idea what God had in store. All
I knew was I trusted Him.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>God chose me to fight that particular battle and so I walked into that
courtroom, armed with The Word of God in my heart and the Holy Spirit
empowering me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><em><b>The man who kidnapped and raped me was found guilty on every charge
and was sentenced by a jury to SIXTY-SIX years in prison.</b></em><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>It just so happens there are <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">EXACTLY</b> 66 books
in the Bible. I don’t believe that’s a coincidence. God does everything on
purpose.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I wasn’t a victim forgotten by God. I was a warrior <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chosen</i></b> by
God.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">EPHESIANS 6:13-17</b>
Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to
withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">14</b> Stand
therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the
breastplate of righteousness;<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">15</b> And your
feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">16</b> Above
all, taking the shield of faith, where-with ye shall be able to quench all the
fiery darts of the wicked.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">17</b> And
take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of
God.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>
We’ve all been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chosen</i>
to fight battles. God <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hand</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">selects</i></b> each
and every one of us for a purpose.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>All of us suffer and will suffer. The question is: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Are you a victim or a
warrior?</i></b> Are you prepared to battle? Have you put on the armour of God?
Or are you still trying to fight on your own?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>When you come to the place where you realize YOUR LIFE isn’t about YOU, then
your life has purpose.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>It’s all about Him. All of it. Even your suffering. He’s trying to grow you,
teach you, and rebuild you for a bigger purpose. He hasn’t forgotten you and He
hasn’t abandoned you. He’s training you for battle. But you’ve got to suit up
if you’re gonna make it in this life.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
You don’t suffer <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i></b> because—you
suffer <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">FOR</b>
the cause.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
When you realize all these things, you suffer <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">with</b> purpose.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I’m not saying it won’t still hurt. Things will happen that will break your
heart. It’s okay to feel those things. It doesn’t make you weak—it makes you
human. Go there, scream, yell, cry. Allow yourself to be broken. Cry out to God
and lay your shattered spirit at His feet, then <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">allow</i> Him to
rebuild you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in His
image</i>. Don’t get lost in your suffering. God gave you a road map to show
you the way, but you’ve got to open The Bible and read it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I still ask God questions, but it’s not the same questions.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I’ve stopped asking "why me, God?" when things don’t go my way. I’ve learned
through everything that God ALWAYS has a reason and I truly trust Him.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>Now I ask him, “What is it You want to teach me in this?” I don’t ever want
to miss ‘the writing on the wall’. So I turn to the word of God and let Him
speak to me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b><u1:p>PSALM 138:2-3</u1:p></b> I WILL WORSHIP TOWARD THY Holy Temple, and praise
thy name for thy lovingkindness and for thy truth: for thou hast magnified thy
word above all thy name.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3.</b> In the
day when I cried thou answerest me, and strengthedst me with strength in my
soul.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">PSALM 138:7</b>
Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch
forth thy right hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand
shall save me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>I am nothing special. I’ve made a million mistakes. It is only by the grace
of God I’m here today, telling my story, and it was only by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the power of God</i>
that man was found guilty. I mean, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sixty-six-years</i>!
That wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i>
doing. That was God.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u1:p>God had a purpose in it all, and He still has a purpose for it. I just had
to shut-up and listen. I had to trust in Him. I had to come to the place where
I knew my suffering had meaning and it was for a bigger purpose.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I AM NOT A VICTIM IN LIFE. I AM A WARRIOR FOR CHRIST.<o:p></o:p><br />
<u1:p></u1:p>
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
</u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p><br />
<u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p>UPDATE: My memoir's been published since writing this post. You can find it on amazon at:</u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p><br />
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<u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><br /></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p><br />
<u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><u1:p><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Perfectly-Broken-Memoir-Rape-Redemption-ebook/dp/B00S1MK19O/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1454690171&sr=8-6&keywords=perfectly+broken" target="_blank">PERFECTLY BROKEN: A Memoir of Rape and Redemption</a><br />
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~~Amber Mauldin<o:p></o:p><br />
</u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p></u1:p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-39016515615877941132013-08-29T10:40:00.002-04:002014-01-29T20:09:22.278-05:00GOD IS BIGGER THAN MY DOUBTSI get discouraged from time to time. I'm only human and there are days when I have doubts about my memoir and whether it will ever see the light of day.<br />
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Patience has never been a strength of mine. It's something God's teaching me. DAILY. I truly believe God is testing my heart and motivations. And I'm okay with that. I need to continuously check my heart and motivations myself so I don't get off track because it's so easy in this world to forget my purpose. It's so easy to make this journey about me. And it's not about me. It's all about Him.<br />
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So how do I keep my heart in check?<br />
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It goes a little something like this.<br />
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Me: I'm ready for my memoir to be published. NOW. It's been over a year. I feel like it'll never happen.<br />
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<i><b>The Holy Spirit:</b> God's timing is better than yours.</i><br />
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Me: Yeah, I know, I know. But what if God never plans on letting my memoir be published?<br />
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<i><b>The Holy Spirit:</b> Why did you write this memoir?</i><br />
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Me: To honor God.<br />
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<i><b>The Holy Spirit:</b> And have you honored God by writing it?</i><br />
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Me: Yes.<br />
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<i><b>The Holy Spirit:</b> Then why does it need to be published? Remember, success in His eyes is different than "worldly" success.</i><br />
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Me: But I want to help other girls who might be going through hard times.<br />
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<i><b>The Holy Spirit:</b> Then do it now by growing in THE WORD daily so when the time comes you are wise in the ways of the Lord. God will not send you out there until you are ready. Work on yourself and let God take care of the rest.</i><br />
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<b>JEREMIAH 29:11</b> For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.<br />
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<b>MATTHEW 6:21</b> For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.<br />
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<b>PHILIPPIANS 4:11</b> Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.<br />
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I have to remind myself DAILY why I'm on this narrow road that seems to be an uphill climb with no end in sight. If I let this become about me, money, and success, then I've failed He who sent me.<br />
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And there are days, like yesterday, when God gives me a glimpse of the glory that is found in Him.<br />
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I received an email yesterday. For the sake of privacy I'm going to paraphrase the first sentence. The rest is word for word.<br />
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1001712518" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Amber,</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Last evening I spoke with a girl who was raped a couple of years ago. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I asked her if she ever thought she’d be put back together. She just looked at me with this look of utter amazement. <b><i>“I get it,” I said. “Sometimes, you have to be perfectly broken, you know?” </i></b>Almost like floodgates she opened up about the feelings of shame, self-loathing and fear which gave way for the discussion about how those things could be replaced with total freedom in Christ. My heart nearly broke when she said, “Sometimes I’m not sure. He knows I’m no good too.”<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Right then and there, I told her that I just didn’t believe my Father made junk.</span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> I told her about the book you’d written and about how we hoped the story was not about the sadness but the strength we’re all allowed. I’m not joking, I watched this kid change in front of me. “I don’t ever want anyone to feel like I’ve felt,” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">God is good. God is so much bigger than my doubts. He doesn't need my memoir to be published to use it. To know all my hard work is being used to help someone gives me such a deep joy I could never put into words.</span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I've always told myself--If my memoir helps just one person it was worth it!! And now it has!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">And to the girl, I will pray for you daily. I believe God has a purpose for all of us, even when we feel like He's forgotten us. The most important thing I can tell you is what someone once told me, "I don't have all the answers, but I know where they are found. The Bible has the answers you need." And if you lean on Jesus for strength, He will rebuild you in ways you never dreamed of.</span></div>
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~~Amber<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-16803756385109312672013-06-06T14:00:00.000-04:002014-01-29T20:14:14.661-05:00I'm readyI volunteered at VBS (vacation bible school) this week to help with some of our special needs children.<br />
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Last night I got to hang out with a pair of autistic twins at VBS and one of their therapists. This was the first time I'd met Elsa. It went a little like this......<br />
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We chat casually about work. She tells me she has an autistic son and that's how she got into the field she's in now (behavioral/language therapy). Then she asks what I do.<br />
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It's that moment, should I say I'm a stay-at-home-mom which I am, or do I say I'm a writer? Because technically I don't have any <em>published</em> books. Non-writers don't understand how much of a process it is. I am a writer, whether I'm published yet or not. I've put in two years of endless hours typing away and I've earned that title.<br />
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Deep breath. "I'm a writer and stay-at-home-mom."<br />
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"Oh? What do you write?" <br />
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"Well..... currently I'm finishing the final edits on my memoir."<br />
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"Oh yeah? What's it about?"<br />
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Oh crap. <br />
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What do I say? I barely know this lady. "Um." Crap. You have to tell her. Move your lips. She's waiting. Say something already. Deep breath. "When I was fifteen I was kidnapped and raped and it's about the struggles I faced and how being a Sunday only Christian just wouldn't cut it anymore. My youth pastor suggested I start reading The Bible. I found strength and healing through God's word and He carried me through the pain." Exhale.<br />
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Her mouth hangs open. She stares at me like I spoke Japanese. "Wow. What age group is it for?"<br />
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"I guess it's more for teenaged girls. I'm really honest in my memoir about how imperfect I am. I think teenagers will connect with it because they won't feel like they're being preached to. So many Christian books show perfect characters and in mine it's the opposite. I make tons of mistakes but God is always there to pick me up. My goal is to steer them toward Jesus and The Bible."<br />
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She smiles. "That's really great. I think you'll touch a lot of lives."<br />
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It's still terrifying talking about the subject of my memoir. It's getting easier though. <br />
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The more I talked with Elsa, the more we connected. Even though there's an age gap (she has a college aged daughter), we both know a thing or two about pain and suffering. She said she came to that point in her life, where she was so destroyed she had absolutely no place to go except to Jesus.<br />
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That is what I call being perfectly broken, when you're so shattered you can't possibly put the pieces back together on your own. There, in the midst of your broken soul, you realize you NEED God. <br />
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Talking with her last night lit a fire under my butt. I'm excited, a little petrified, but mostly excited about this journey I'm on. I'm so thankful for all the friends who have supported me along the way!<br />
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~AmberUnknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-28623819720501527152013-06-03T05:00:00.000-04:002013-06-03T08:37:42.379-04:00Comic teaser: ONE by Leigh Ann KopansI totally dropped the ball on this. I've been so busy between my editing and all the traveling the past two weeks, I didn't realize I was scheduled to post this past Tuesday! <br />
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Everyone, you may now throw apples, pies, and anything else you want at me. Leigh Ann gets first shot! I get the LOSER AWARD. But enough about how lame I am and onto all the awesome stuff.<br />
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I know you've all heard about<a href="http://leighannkopans.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> <strong>Leigh Ann Kopans'</strong></a> book ONE, right? Cause if you haven't heard about it you must be living under a rock, or not on twitter. Well, I was one of the super lucky people who got to read the ARC and let me tell you, it's a fast paced, unputdownable story. Don't worry, you'll get to read it in just A FEW DAYS, but until then here's a comic teaser that is so freakin' awesome!!!<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>About <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ONE</i></strong></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(a novel by Leigh Ann Kopans</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">:)</span></div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></b> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Release date: June 11, 2013</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1362411206l/17251203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1362411206l/17251203.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When having two powers makes you a Super and having none makes you a Normal, having only one makes you a sad half-superpowered freak.<br /><br /> It makes you a One.<br /><br /> Sixteen-year-old Merrin Grey would love to be able to fly – too bad all she can do is hover.<br /><br /> If she could just land an internship at the Biotech Hub, she might finally figure out how to fix herself. She busts her butt in AP Chem and salivates over the Hub’s research on the manifestation of superpowers, all in hopes of boosting her chances.<br /><br /> Then she meets Elias VanDyne, another One, and all her carefully crafted plans fly out the window. Literally. When the two of them touch, their Ones combine to make them fly, and when they’re not soaring over the Nebraska cornfields, they’re busy falling for each other.<br /><br /> Merrin's mad chemistry skills land her a spot on the Hub's internship short list, but as she gets closer to the life she always wanted, she discovers that the Hub’s purpose is more sinister than it has always seemed. Now it’s up to her to decide if it's more important to fly solo, or to save everything - and everyone - she loves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Now go add it to your Goodreads list. <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17251203-one">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17251203-one</a></span> And make sure to stop by and tell Leigh Ann how awesome this all is. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-48316525587287908472013-05-11T09:41:00.002-04:002014-01-29T20:17:55.971-05:00NO ROBOTS PERMITTED<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
The other night, I went to a Ladies night out event at my
church. If I’m being truly honest, I didn’t want to go. This event was hosted
by one of the elderly ladies at my church and I was sure the event would be
geared toward the 60+ crowd.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I went to the event last year and the speaker was
elderly and her skit was super cheesy and not relatable to me and my life—AT
ALL. I really did NOT enjoy any of her act.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So when the woman who hosts it (who is super sweet
and wonderful) asked me to go this year, I pulled the, “Uhhhh, ummmm, oh look,
my husband needs me, gotta run.” And dashed off without agreeing or lying. I
thought it was a pretty awesome move if I do say so myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Last Sunday she cornered me. This woman is a force
to be reckoned with. In her super sweet, sovereign grandma way (basically I’ve
lived twice as long as you so you’ll do what I say way), she told me I was going.
I couldn’t tell that sweet grandma no. So I figured, what the heck, it’s just a
couple hours. I’ll complain to my husband when it’s over about how impractical
and irrelevant it was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I went, and after the meal, we all (85% of the large
crowd was over the age of 60) went to the sanctuary to listen to the speaker. I
caught a glimpse of the speaker on my way in. She was a sixty-year-old woman,
dressed in very loud, silly clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I rolled my eyes, and threw a tantrum in my head, knowing
I was in for another super cheesy, old lady skit. Just great, there goes an
hour of my life that could have been spent doing anything else! I’d rather
scrub my bathroom floor than listen to some old lady TRY to be funny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew I was being a brat, and I shouldn’t think like
that, so I silently prayed, “God, please help me to stop being so negative.
Help me to focus on you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After all, that’s why I came. It’s important to love
on people, even if we’re in different stages of life. And even though the skit
last year wasn’t applicable to my life, I do know there are endless things I
can learn from these elderly women. “So, suck it up, Amber, and stop being such
a sour-puss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, the speaker came in, acting all silly and
talking in a high pitched, fake voice, just like I expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I silently told myself to smile. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Try</i> to enjoy it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To my surprise, she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actually funny</i>. Now granted, I wasn’t nearly as doubled over in
laughter as the elderly women, but I was for real smiling and laughing along
with them, and not faking it. And yes her act was a little cheesy, but cheesy
is a lot better to watch when it’s funny, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So I listened, I laughed, and I was truly enjoying
myself, but then, about twenty minutes into her act, she took off her glasses,
her voice changed to a more normal, lower pitch, and her smile faded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her act was over, but she was still talking. Now she
was speaking from her heart. She was getting real. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I sat up straight. My eyes were wide open. It was
getting really good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She told us she was a pastor’s wife for twenty years.
Her life was right on track, until her husband, a pastor, became addicted to prescription
drugs! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He needed the drugs because of the intense pain he
suffered. But those drugs led them down a road she never planned on walking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He couldn’t pastor the church anymore. He had to go
to rehab, and later on, due to all of his health issues, he went into a coma
for nearly 60 days!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She told us about that long, dark road she walked.
She told us how broken she was. She told us she didn’t always handle every
situation with grace. She was angry at God some days. Some days she was angry
at her husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She was broken. She was imperfect. BUT SHE WAS REAL.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This woman opened up the most sensitive parts of her
soul and shared it with us. It was epic. It was touching. IT WAS RELATABLE!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There may be thirty+ years between us, but suffering
is one thing that unites us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I know a thing or two about pain. And I’m very aware
that without the grace and strength of God, I’d never have made it through. I’ve
fallen and I’ve failed time and time again. I get it wrong all the time. And I’m
so grateful God never gives up on me. He never leaves me. And He’s always there
to pick me off the ground when I stumble. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The broken hearted are my people, because I’m one of
them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As Christians we get so used to putting on an “act”,
using our fake voice, and saying whatever it is we think others want to hear, and
we forget to be real. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I try to surround myself with open people. </span></div>
<div style="clear: both; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vCBzuQOgUO1ppJxJ5RrSLFOwIvcw17PisuvwKk3lE9ez-WzlOHN8CKIOIEJjKKDa_REAX-ey5OVMubnMNd3eEypx0f8AIOLPgquFzQj6bY5TZ565k9AbNTCFs8DEFhwc-v3ZuYvWZRE/s1600/2011-06-14+02.29.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vCBzuQOgUO1ppJxJ5RrSLFOwIvcw17PisuvwKk3lE9ez-WzlOHN8CKIOIEJjKKDa_REAX-ey5OVMubnMNd3eEypx0f8AIOLPgquFzQj6bY5TZ565k9AbNTCFs8DEFhwc-v3ZuYvWZRE/s200/2011-06-14+02.29.06.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vCBzuQOgUO1ppJxJ5RrSLFOwIvcw17PisuvwKk3lE9ez-WzlOHN8CKIOIEJjKKDa_REAX-ey5OVMubnMNd3eEypx0f8AIOLPgquFzQj6bY5TZ565k9AbNTCFs8DEFhwc-v3ZuYvWZRE/s1600/2011-06-14+02.29.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;" unselectable="on">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vCBzuQOgUO1ppJxJ5RrSLFOwIvcw17PisuvwKk3lE9ez-WzlOHN8CKIOIEJjKKDa_REAX-ey5OVMubnMNd3eEypx0f8AIOLPgquFzQj6bY5TZ565k9AbNTCFs8DEFhwc-v3ZuYvWZRE/s1600/2011-06-14+02.29.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you’re
my friend, then I want honesty. When I ask how you’re doing, and you’ve had a
crappy day, I want you to tell me. I want to be able to see your heart. I want
to know how to encourage you, cheer for you, pray for you, and do all those
things a friend is supposed to do. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are some people I’d like to be closer to, but
I can’t get past their walls. They hide their pain. They hide their
imperfections. They keep the world at a safe distance. They refuse to let
anyone see their heart. </span><br />
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qWGuusgCr0eX5eI4G2VfvkI0O3nNy1pS5CLH9DcKnommC3qsRIvoju8IZDju7Jjc6arxlDgMdfWl5y4K9DKnkajkTzfl0qrne2l_MOSxzOEz7mwZHiDvxEqelc1HadbFPM0neoXBL8U/s1600/IMG00271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qWGuusgCr0eX5eI4G2VfvkI0O3nNy1pS5CLH9DcKnommC3qsRIvoju8IZDju7Jjc6arxlDgMdfWl5y4K9DKnkajkTzfl0qrne2l_MOSxzOEz7mwZHiDvxEqelc1HadbFPM0neoXBL8U/s200/IMG00271.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t want to be that way. I want to surround
myself with people who know my imperfections, but love me anyway. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I read a quote, (I don’t remember the author)
it said, “Be who you are and say what you feel. Those who mind don’t matter,
and those who matter, won’t mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Today, if I could hang a sign on the door to my heart,
it would say:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>NO ROBOTS PERMITTED. ONLY THE REAL, HONEST, BROKEN,
IMPERFECT PEOPLE ARE WELCOME.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">~Amber<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-58341587359631363972013-04-02T15:18:00.000-04:002013-04-02T15:30:46.943-04:00Embracing LifeYou've all heard of flash fiction. But what about flash non-fiction? <br />
<br />
I watched a surf movie today and it took me back to those days when I surfed. I wanted to write a flash non-fiction piece, so here it is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">EMBRACING LIFE</span></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I step out onto the cold grit. The soles of my bare feet
press into the forgiving sand and a calm washes over me. I know this piece of
earth and it knows me. It’s my sanctuary. It’s my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Wind pushes against me, sending goose bumps all over
my body. It tries to send me back to where I came from. But I won’t give into
it. This is where I belong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I shift my board under my arm to get a better grip,
and walk forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The ocean roars as it sends another wave to the shore. </span>The white water reflects in the last light
of the lingering moon. </span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My toes dig deeper when I step onto wet sand. It’s
like ice. Another flash of goose bumps cover my body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The water pushes a layer of froth to my feet. The cold
bites when it collides with my skin. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I let out a puff of air and my muscles tense. It’s
crazy cold. What was I thinking? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Out in the black ahead, another wave roars when it
slams into itself. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s taunting me. It knows I can’t resist it. I need
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I take a deep breath and run into the water. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Each step feels like glass. It's hard to breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I get knee deep, the water meets its match—my
wetsuit. Now, it’s not nearly as bad. And the bottom half of my legs are
already going numb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I can totally do this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I get waist deep and lay my board beside me. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A dying wave of white water runs at me and shoves me
back a few steps. I plant my feet, grip my board on both sides, and spring off
the ocean floor. My body slides onto my board, landing in its spot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Months of surfing have molded this board to me.
There are tiny indents where my boobs lay when I paddle out, and there’s a
larger impression where my butt sits when I’m waiting for a set. This board
knows my curves better than any man ever has. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I dig my arms into the water and my board glides
ahead, effortlessly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The waves have stopped for a second. This means I
have to push hard or I’ll get stuck paddling through a set. I know it’s bound
to happen, but I’m not ready to eat salt just yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Every muscle in my body is being used, keeping me on
the board and moving me through the water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The water pulls below me. A wave is building just
ahead. I have to get past it before it peaks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I swim with all my strength, alternating my arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Faster</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harder</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t stop</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Almost there</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My board slides over the hump and the wave charges
out behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m here. I made it to the other side. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I take a deep breath and let it out slowly as I push
up on my board and take my seat. My legs straddle my board and my feet swirl
below in teeny circles to keep my balance. The show’s about to begin. I made it
just in time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Above me, thousands of stars have come to watch too.
And I’m all too aware of the many things below that have shown up as well. But
I can’t think about the dangers stalking underneath. I won’t let the fear of
death keeping me from embracing life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I beat death once. I still carry the invisible
scars. But I’m stronger now. I’m free now. The chains that weighed me down were
broken the day I defied death. It took nearly dying for me to learn how to
live. But I understand life now. And that’s why I’m here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A sliver of orange light peaks over the horizon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A smile rises on my lips and I breathe deep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Like a masterpiece being painted before my eyes, the
horizon fills with yellows and oranges that grow into reds as the sun sneaks up
into the sky. It’s so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s something no picture could ever capture because
it’s not just the colors. There’s so much more. It’s all God’s instruments coming
together in perfect harmony. The cold water that cradles me; the fresh, morning
breeze that meets the salty sea and creates a smell no candle could ever contain;
the seagulls that sing from the skies; the ocean that hums with its deep bass
voice. They are all a part of this living masterpiece. And I’m a part of it as
well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Too quickly, the sun rises high, covering all the
stars in a blanket of blue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But that’s okay. It just means it’s time to go dance
on the waves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I close my eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank
you, Lord for this beautiful day. Amen.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I grab the top of my board and whip it around to
face the waves behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This is living. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgLJigN0I1vCSnT1YOl-NbNuY2Q2V339_Dx5b14VvPO7Hu8MrAWEpIyvqWKcBf74SYFgNa7tXkwApo5TsREzVUttcySQwVsg2Oy3be0eHI244S7Jb6YBDvteyfhqIIzPbx94PiNYtSi8/s1600/IMG00021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgLJigN0I1vCSnT1YOl-NbNuY2Q2V339_Dx5b14VvPO7Hu8MrAWEpIyvqWKcBf74SYFgNa7tXkwApo5TsREzVUttcySQwVsg2Oy3be0eHI244S7Jb6YBDvteyfhqIIzPbx94PiNYtSi8/s320/IMG00021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-48469393017709886572013-04-01T11:11:00.001-04:002013-04-01T11:20:00.336-04:00Losing your best friend<strong><span style="font-size: large;">LOSING YOUR BEST FRIEND</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<br />
Every year, April Fools Day comes and goes. It's a day of jokes and laughs and most people seem to enjoy the humor it brings out in everyone.<br />
<br />
I don't ever participate.<br />
<br />
It's not because I don't have a good sense of humor. And it's not because I don't enjoy a good practical joke.<br />
<br />
It's because today, 17 years ago, my best friend died.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Let's back track.<br />
<br />
I'll never forget the night that bonded me to Cheryl. I can't remember exactly how old I was, maybe eight, but I do remember the conversation.<br />
<br />
We were riding in a church van. It was dark and we were traveling to some sort of church function, I don't remember what it was either. All I remember is HER.<br />
<br />
She was a soft spoken, thin girl who looked about my age. She sat next to me in the back row and like most young girls, it didn't take long before we were chatting and giggling like old friends.<br />
<br />
After a little time had passed, and it was clear a friendship had been formed, she asked, "Can you keep a secret?"<br />
<br />
My eyes grew big. Even at that age, I knew by her tone and facial expressions, she had a HUGE secret. And while I <em>could</em> keep a secret, I was terrified it might be one of those really bad secrets that you're supposed to tell adults. In that moment I had to make a decision whether or not I wanted to carry the burden of her secret.<br />
<br />
I slowly nodded my head.<br />
<br />
"I have a disease," she whispered.<br />
<br />
My heart fell to the my feet. "What kind?"<br />
<br />
"It's called Cystic Fibrosis."<br />
<br />
I shrugged, having never heard those words before. "What is it?"<br />
<br />
"It's in my lungs. It makes it hard for me to breathe."<br />
<br />
Tears formed in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. One question lingered in my mind. <em>The</em> <em>question</em>. But I couldn't ask it. <br />
<br />
I think she sensed my hesitation. She shook her head. "Oh don't worry, you can't catch it. I just don't tell people because they all treat me different."<br />
<br />
That wasn't the question on my mind, but I let her think it was. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."<br />
<br />
It was a promise I kept, though it wasn't long before I realized her secret wasn't really a secret. Every adult knew, and in time, all of us kids knew too. <br />
<br />
But, Cheryl was easy to love and she didn't have trouble making friends.<br />
<br />
When I was in sixth grade, I went to a very small, private school with Cheryl. There were nine of us in the entire school!<br />
<br />
I loved getting to spend so much time with her, but there were many weeks when Cheryl was absent because she was in the hospital.<br />
<br />
My mom told me one day that Cheryl probably wouldn't live much longer. <br />
<br />
It was the answer to the question I'd had so many years ago, as a little girl who wondered if her new friend was going to die.<br />
<br />
~~~~<br />
<br />
One day, a group of us (11yo-13yo) were walking down the road and one of the boys pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. He asked if anyone wanted a cig. Like any wanna-be-cool sixth grader, I perked up and said, "Sure."<br />
<br />
Cheryl stormed off.<br />
<br />
The next day Cheryl wouldn't even look at me. It broke my heart. We'd NEVER had a fight before!!!<br />
<br />
The first chance I got, I cornered her in the bathroom, while she was on the toilet and no one else was in there. "Why aren't you talking to me?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"Like you don't know."<br />
<br />
"What?" I puffed. "I have no clue what I did to make you so mad. Was it the cigarette?"<br />
<br />
"YES!" she yelled.<br />
<br />
"It's just a cigarette. That's no reason to be mad at me!"<br />
<br />
She flushed the toilet and came storming out of the stall, her face red. "How can you say that! I'm going to die because I don't have good lungs. And YOU have perfect lungs and you're messing them up!"<br />
<br />
My eyes flooded with tears. It hadn't even crossed my mind to put the two together. <br />
<br />
I sniffed and wiped away a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I won't do it again." I couldn't bear the thought of hurting her feelings. How could I have been so stupid?<br />
<br />
She smiled and threw her arms around me. <br />
<br />
That was the only fight we ever had, in over five years of friendship.<br />
<br />
A year later, on April 1st, she went to be with the Lord.<br />
<br />
There are so many more stories like this I could share about the times I spent with Cheryl. She was a light in my life. She was wise beyond her years. She often spoke of Jesus and Heaven and I don't doubt for a second, she is with the Lord now. <br />
<br />
At such a young age, she understood more about life and death than most people ever do. She knew her life would be short. She loved well. She lived well. And she taught this little girl so much about what it is to be human.<br />
<br />
Every year, on this day, I remember the amazing person she was, and I thank God for the time He gave me with her. The way she lived, loved, and died taught me more than words ever could!<br />
<br />
"I love you, Cheryl. I miss you. And I will see you again."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlhUJMDWsLgpmYHBkHyRUZO9eXo0BzBjMfK-fiPIJSaC-qTo0dWoMsdlyx9ccfLmb57-M3N4JhZWWvXWrGFcEscbeqpbzoTIsrI4EaSkwAMdOrmJ-dqS7XZfIkC_M6N_dc5SnTgrAkgo/s1600/578122_10151442407286743_1021208449_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlhUJMDWsLgpmYHBkHyRUZO9eXo0BzBjMfK-fiPIJSaC-qTo0dWoMsdlyx9ccfLmb57-M3N4JhZWWvXWrGFcEscbeqpbzoTIsrI4EaSkwAMdOrmJ-dqS7XZfIkC_M6N_dc5SnTgrAkgo/s320/578122_10151442407286743_1021208449_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
~Amber<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5198004210032806701.post-16941164129328619672013-03-21T06:38:00.000-04:002013-03-21T06:50:26.613-04:00AMBITION- my published article<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUA-Nf4rAkKfZ5JFWjXZ2oM-Xu1wOGJxRYVtZeCStuHifUXZ2xeS7i7unph4DFTm1yapSATWm8FovLdfYqHAWG8pl5TyTUN7z2usGwX0LpifX_cAcgthpO4mDLPoKymdvIcL3nvA63gA/s1600/19282_243561809110307_1699200206_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUA-Nf4rAkKfZ5JFWjXZ2oM-Xu1wOGJxRYVtZeCStuHifUXZ2xeS7i7unph4DFTm1yapSATWm8FovLdfYqHAWG8pl5TyTUN7z2usGwX0LpifX_cAcgthpO4mDLPoKymdvIcL3nvA63gA/s320/19282_243561809110307_1699200206_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.worldwidenewsonline.com/girl-talk-with-len-jae-january-2013.html" target="_blank">You can purchase the January issue here</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoTitle" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">AMBITION<o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ambition:</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
Strong desire for success, achievement, or distinction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve always been an ambitious person. I can say for
myself at least, one of the pitfalls of being overly ambitious is how much it devastates
me when I fail. And boy have I failed—a lot—at a lot of things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
I can remember in High School sobbing to my mom because I
didn’t get the lead in a play I’d auditioned for. Mom’s response was, “I wish
you’d stop trying out for these things. You know how upset you get when you
don’t get the part.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But I couldn’t stop trying. I was ambitious and
determined to succeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After ten or so failures, I eventually landed the
lead in the High School musical my senior year. And it was completely worth it.
Every tear I’d cried and every part I didn’t get made the one I did get so
special.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then I became an adult and I went out into the world
with a pocket full of rainbows and dreams. This ambitious girl who reached for
the stars was quickly knocked on her butt and left there—a complete failure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There were so many things I wanted that I never got.
Maybe it was a job I would have been perfect for, or a boy I thought I couldn’t
live without. At times I thought it would be the end of me. Every door seemed
to close in my face, over and over again. I was left asking, “God, where’s that
window you promised me?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I spent my teenage years and half of my twenties
striving for greatness and feeling so defeated when none of my dreams came
true. So, what’s an ambitious girl to do? Quit? Stop trying? “God, what’s my
purpose in life?” (Have you ever asked yourself that?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At twenty-five I married and had my first child,
then two years later I had my second. As a wife and mother I wanted to be the
best, so, getting myself back on track with God was the first step. I found a
church my entire family could enjoy and grow in. But I still had no idea <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i> God wanted me to do. I’d checked
wife and mother off my list of goals, but what now? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At the church I attend, I kept hearing the pastor say
the same thing over and over again. “When the earth perishes there will be two
things that remain—the Word of God and the souls of men.” “Above all else there
are two things God cherishes—the Word of God and the souls of men.” “There are
two things that matter in this life—the souls of men and the Word of God.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, OKAY! The Word of God and souls of men, I hear
ya. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I turned to the Word of God and studied the bible,
searching for God’s answers for my life. The question that plagued me was—how
can my passions line up with God’s? I had a burning desire to write, and not
just anything, but to write things that would honor God. It seemed like a
perfect fit. I could write things that glorified God and touch the souls of
men. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Perfect, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I wrote my first, full length novel. Now what? It
was God honoring, but what do I do with it? So I did some research and got
connected with critique partners and began to query (send a one page summary of
my novel to entice an agent to read my manuscript). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What happened next was rejection after rejection. So
I sent out more queries and got more rejections.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d pray and read The Bible wondering why I was
failing. It was abundantly clear to me I was doing exactly what God wanted me
to do. I was working within my spiritual gifts to glorify God, so why wasn’t I
succeeding? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The answer: My definition of the word success was
flawed. I thought every rejection letter meant I was a failure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One Sunday morning the pastor preached on Noah—a story
I’d heard a million times, but I’d never heard it preached like this before.
I’d never known how long it took Noah to build that ark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One-hundred-twenty-years Noah worked on that ark. I
can imagine him looking up at the blue skies and wondering when God was gonna
send the floods. But Noah didn’t give up and quit. He was obedient. Talk about
ambition! Here I was complaining to God because after six months my book wasn’t
published. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s funny how my timing doesn’t always line up with
God’s timing, and yet, looking back, I can ALWAYS see God’s timing was so much
better than mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m sure the world viewed Noah as a failure,
building this silly boat when there were no signs of a flood. But Noah didn’t
care what they thought, and he didn’t base his success on their opinions of him.
He wasn’t building his boat for them—he was building it for God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Through stories like this, The Bible tells me I can
be ambitious. If I am glorifying God in my daily life, then in God’s eyes I am
a success. Whether I’m a crossing guard, a school bus driver, a stay-at-home
mom, or a senator, doesn’t matter to him. What matters is that in all things I
bring Him glory. Dollar bills don’t hold any ranking with the big man upstairs.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the book of MARK, Jesus brought his disciples out
into the towns of Caesarea Philippi and spoke with them about what was to come,
explaining that his time was drawing near. He gave them warnings to heed after
He was gone. He then asked, <strong>MARK 8:36</strong>- “For what shall it profit a man, if he
shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">COLOSSIANS</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
tells us in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3:2</b>- Set your affection
on things above, not on things of this earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">COLOSSIANS</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3:17</b>- And whatsoever ye do in word
or deed, do all in the name if the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the
Father by Him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">These verses have brought me so much peace. I still
haven’t published any novels. I still haven’t made a single cent from anything
I’ve ever written. Am I a failure? No. God tells me I can keep my ambition,
just as long as my goals aren’t for worldly things. I can be who I want to be,
as long as who I want to be is a reflection of Christ. What I am doesn’t matter
to God. Who I am is what matters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>Written
by: Amber Mauldin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Published
by <strong><em>GIRL TALK with Len Jae magazine</em></strong> in January 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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