tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35880031953914748872024-03-10T13:37:32.618-07:00Autism UnpluggedA fresh look at autism through spiritual lenses. The blog shares autism resources, experiences, and insight gained from a hopeful perspective that honors all members of the family.Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.comBlogger292125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-80634290022646698902015-02-27T07:00:00.000-08:002015-02-28T17:32:17.613-08:00When Songwriting Looks EasyI craned my neck and ears through the receptionist's window to hear exactly what was going on. Whatever happened to one-way glass?<br />
<br />
Strumming an easy volley of chords, Reid was writing a song. What?<br />
<br />
By himself. Independently. Smoothly.<br />
<br />
Not in fits and starts. Not heavily prompted. No carrots dangling.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-IFYSI85f3JIAddHpEt8RGwzXMV6wtAsIDLsClX1HnF0sS2JUkloj1EoAOwVuK4T8glOv5tCxtKxtmfZIj6iio5kjfTLLhwrBHk87khsjmt-gKl1tfoSfx2J7Sue5AgP4wUW3phTmdd6C/s1600/IMG_3198.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/AVvXsEh-IFYSI85f3JIAddHpEt8RGwzXMV6wtAsIDLsClX1HnF0sS2JUkloj1EoAOwVuK4T8glOv5tCxtKxtmfZIj6iio5kjfTLLhwrBHk87khsjmt-gKl1tfoSfx2J7Sue5AgP4wUW3phTmdd6C/s1600/IMG_3198.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>You may wonder why this is news. Reid has a musician Facebook page, his own website and is about to release <a href="http://www.reidmoriarty.com/" target="_blank">Purple Party, his first full-length CD of original songs</a>. But this was different.<br />
<br />
Angela wasn't helping. She was watching...and recording it.<br />
<br />
She wasn't providing brilliant scaffolding, fill-in-the-blank prompts, or the chord structure. She didn't have the collaborative agenda that made Purple Party possible. Her heavily lifting wasn't happening.<br />
<br />
It had been done, make no mistake, in regular weekly doses over the past ten years during their music therapy sessions. She had worked diligently to create the space for this magical moment. That sounded effortless.<br />
<br />
<br />
Reid extemporized a second verse:<br />
<i><br /></i>
I<i>ts time for you to go home and sleep...</i><br />
<i>What are your dreams for tonight? </i><br />
<i>Thank you for coming and...</i><br />
<i>Goodnight Angela</i><br />
<br />
"What about Emma (the watchful intern)?" was Angela's only reply.<br />
<br />
<i>Here's for you Emma. Goodbye Emma</i><br />
<i>Have a good night sleep...</i><i>you don't have any school </i><br />
<i>But if you do...make it a good day. </i><br />
<i>I'll see you next week at Angela's</i><br />
<br />
"What about Leah (the receptionist outside the closed session room door)?" Okay, maybe Angela was prompting a bit.<br />
<br />
<i>Good night Leah</i><br />
<i>I hope you have a good night</i><br />
<i>See you next Thursday</i><br />
<i>I love you, Lelah</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSJLJ5IHz6Zf39wRz11I-S5BY8tw44MkyAu4CnPcn3KLVHPsaqape2iGxoTPNrWXDZjsK3qHMcWyz0e_2wOWnxh9hVvGfQjhYvBh3wI4TKgXp1ykGe1yPUNonXzsfl39lo7IZkApo3L6y/s1600/IMG_1478.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/AVvXsEjfSJLJ5IHz6Zf39wRz11I-S5BY8tw44MkyAu4CnPcn3KLVHPsaqape2iGxoTPNrWXDZjsK3qHMcWyz0e_2wOWnxh9hVvGfQjhYvBh3wI4TKgXp1ykGe1yPUNonXzsfl39lo7IZkApo3L6y/s1600/IMG_1478.JPG" height="271" width="320" /></a>Had all the Talk Time interviews about songwriting – with <a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/guest-steve-denyes-hullabaloo" target="_blank">Steve Denyes</a> and <a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/guest-babbie-mason-gospel" target="_blank">Babbie Mason</a> and <a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/guest-angela-neve-music" target="_blank">Angela</a> herself – affirmed and anchored in him what she had been developing all these years? Perhaps.<br />
<br />
A tongue twisting bridge emerged like one of those compounding juvenile picture books:<br />
<br />
<i>Goodbye Angela Emma Lelah and Reid...</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
It was easy, like Sunday morning or Michael Buble in a lounge act.<br />
<br />
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-84574702073990915672015-02-25T10:35:00.003-08:002015-02-25T21:18:47.179-08:00B2B; Friend to friend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3pkH_Ksxg0B74GNvnOh2tkJcyfZXBXWIh365n_5LvBGA1RxvVwkGpnjNtheAxgxuhv2m6VopJZjYFsWwTxhlvjHn7Vp_DuktA-aTpxbNdisiPMb0pbgWSYEp5LIGng7t4Oo76XBri55m/s1600/Reid+Moriarty+caricature+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/AVvXsEie3pkH_Ksxg0B74GNvnOh2tkJcyfZXBXWIh365n_5LvBGA1RxvVwkGpnjNtheAxgxuhv2m6VopJZjYFsWwTxhlvjHn7Vp_DuktA-aTpxbNdisiPMb0pbgWSYEp5LIGng7t4Oo76XBri55m/s1600/Reid+Moriarty+caricature+2.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a>Reid has hired <a href="http://www.joelsvisionarts.com/" target="_blank">Joel Anderson</a> to design Coloring Pages for each of the songs on his <a href="http://www.reidmoriarty.com/" target="_blank">Purple Party CD</a>. Free downloadable pages for kids and adults who like to color will illustrate the song lyrics that Reid and Angela have written for their first full-length recording.<br />
<br />
How else could we find a picture of Elmo eating cranberries in a firetruck for the <i>Red Song by Reid</i>? Or a magician with an O<i>range Piano</i> and a door that automatically closes? Let alone a people at a <i>Purple Party</i> in polka dot shoes with penguins passing out presents. Somehow I think Joel can handle these better than any other illustrator.<br />
<br />
Joel and his mom Sandi are mentors to Reid and me on many levels. In terms of entrepreneurial skills, parenting, self-advocacy, prayer, micro-enterprise, you name it, they have gone before and paved a way. They are unrivaled in their ability to create, market, and distribute products and services that amplify Joel's unique voice in the world and help others.<br />
<br />
Joel gave Reid this caricature as a graduation gift. Don't you love it? These are just a sideline to his animation, book illustration, and painting. He is a renaissance man.<br />
<br />
Think global. Buy local. Buy neuro-diversity.<br />
<br />
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-21452261886356218732015-02-17T12:46:00.000-08:002015-02-18T10:16:20.508-08:00Talk Time with a Muppet<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><i>This post originally appeared on <a href="https://www.autismspeaks.org/blog/2015/02/17/day-my-son-autism-interviewed-sesame-street-muppet" target="_blank">Autism Speaks Family Services blog</a>.</i></span></div>
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As soon as the elevator doors opened, we were 3 years old
again! All of us—Mom, Dad, Reid, Allie and cousin Tucker—are over 18, but not
too old to jockey for the line leader position. There was so much to take in: the
mural of Big Bird on the wall, a bright oversized number “4” sculpture, a furry
fuchsia service bell, and the high definition photograph of Grover with a flock
of real preschoolers.</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPyg8-MP3zXWyEkKwk6tUSwF53f3WwsCI2gpwAOkhetSkx4LnVrVouaT9-rbwrcekN6vo-JLKJDFA1UVlKA_Jweee8BHldm4JuU8CiUMHjb1P-pE65dSkF1fkA3fMPXSR4JXSPDliPU9Z/s1600/IMG_0359.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/AVvXsEiBPyg8-MP3zXWyEkKwk6tUSwF53f3WwsCI2gpwAOkhetSkx4LnVrVouaT9-rbwrcekN6vo-JLKJDFA1UVlKA_Jweee8BHldm4JuU8CiUMHjb1P-pE65dSkF1fkA3fMPXSR4JXSPDliPU9Z/s1600/IMG_0359.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">We maneuvered to take turns standing on Big Bird's
footprints in the carpet of the Sesame Workshop lobby. Every time, it triggered
a "Welcome" song from the familiar cast. Count, Rosita, Elmo, and
Cookie all sang to us from gold-framed flat screens in a friendly montage on
the wall. This was thrilling!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Reid, 20 and on the spectrum, had an appointment to </span><a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/guest-joey-mazzarino"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">interview Joey Mazzarino</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">, Sesame
Street’s head writer and puppeteer of </span><a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/guest-murray-monster-sesame"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Murray Monster</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">, for
his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Talk Time with Reid Moriarty</i>
podcast. The two of them–or three, rather—hit it off instantly. The rest of us
thoroughly enjoyed the show! And you can too by </span><a href="https://soundcloud.com/you/tracks"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">clicking
here</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Interviewing
a Muppet<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Reid’s eyes were peeled as Murray came out of a duffel
bag and Joey put him on his arm. This was a new eye contact challenge; Reid was
unsure where to look or to whom he was listening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Murray, the enthusiastic, slightly impulsive, furry,
orange puppet who usually roves the five boroughs meeting new people, has a lot
in common with Reid. Both of them love the limelight, want to meet Miss
Piggy, and frequently exclaim, “That’s awesome!!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRhqooSgmXyMsy8D0E4iiosUPtpR4GIjik8pJ5GcGj6doKS_s4QH6OKwAq2Ey8L0lo5MimDSno3YfW4SjscteRiWgxbf-KHTt_oXnQFtMtd6D4lhondYZOIUwNoOyYo5lVIJ3JIT-u2uv/s1600/20141121_123917.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/AVvXsEguRhqooSgmXyMsy8D0E4iiosUPtpR4GIjik8pJ5GcGj6doKS_s4QH6OKwAq2Ey8L0lo5MimDSno3YfW4SjscteRiWgxbf-KHTt_oXnQFtMtd6D4lhondYZOIUwNoOyYo5lVIJ3JIT-u2uv/s1600/20141121_123917.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">With nary a hiccup, Joey fielded Reid’s novel questions
as spontaneously as they were delivered. It was easy to see how Joey had won
the Emmy precariously balanced on his desk. A masterful voice talent with a
fountain of fresh material spewing forth, he was equally adept at relating to
Reid, without a minute of special training. If there were Emmy awards bestowed
for kindness, transposing grammar on the fly, filling in voids of social nicety
with grace, making erroneous comments meaningful, and explaining BIG concepts in
simple terms, he would need more shelves to display them all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Clearly, this man would excel at Floortime! He could follow
a child’s lead anywhere, eagerly, energetically, creatively, engaging their
mind the whole way. I am glad he’s the one writing sketches for Abby and the
rest of the cast to foster inclusion and autism awareness. He embodies the
Sesame Workshop Initiative to “See Amazing in All Children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Taking
Adult Vocation Beyond the (Pizza) Box</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Talk
Time with Reid Moriarty</span></i></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> is a series of 5-7 minute podcasts with
people Reid finds interesting, and you might too! An innate emcee, Reid’s
talk-show-host style is direct, comedic and strikes a chord of human interest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/179338078&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">His dad and I conceived of the idea on a dinner date. Reid
was graduating from high school about to begin folding pizza boxes at the local
transition program. We knew our creative kid with a passion to perform, would
need something more. I suggested finding a mentor at a local radio station who
might give Reid old PSA’s to recite. My husband, Jim, an advertising executive,
blew the idea out of the water by suggesting the market appeal of a radio show similar
to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Car Talk</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anderson Cooper 360</i>. “It could be great content if Reid interviewed
real people and we captured the dialogue with all its misfires. We could throw
them up on Soundcloud.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">What did we have to lose? Reid practiced with a few
neighbors and the lifeguard at our pool then, we asked </span><a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty/talk-time-with-reid-moriarty-1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mr. Greg Harris, CEO of the Rock and Roll
Hall</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> of Fame in Cleveland. His immediately willing reply to our
cold call was a great encouragement to continue inviting prominent guests all
with the filter of Reid’s motivation to meet them and some mutual interest, be
it Mexican food or music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Stay tuned for more bi-weekly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Talk Time</i> interviews on </span><a href="https://soundcloud.com/talk-time-w-reid-moriarty"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Soundcloud</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">, Stitcher and at </span><a href="http://www.reidmoriarty.com/"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">ReidMoriarty.com</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgesQPeq_MghLn72DjenEVM0d58ImlAbhvgxB19YOOduBL1C8AOTaD8R0Ub4no6VbN8SzBBVvtaiIEzxBDoCdqacqEt1EBa2J90muzgF1G4dbzOJcNxaCus_WYV0isfGlQESP4Txla-1k72/s1600/IMG_0394.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/AVvXsEgesQPeq_MghLn72DjenEVM0d58ImlAbhvgxB19YOOduBL1C8AOTaD8R0Ub4no6VbN8SzBBVvtaiIEzxBDoCdqacqEt1EBa2J90muzgF1G4dbzOJcNxaCus_WYV0isfGlQESP4Txla-1k72/s1600/IMG_0394.JPG" height="275" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Resurrecting a recurrent feature today because sharing stories is a healing balm.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
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<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>C.S. Lewis wrote, "We read to know we're not alone." I need to tell my story and I'd love to hear yours. Here's a question I bet you can answer with at least one example. Be practical, be personal, be painful, be my guest...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Do you have a Christmas tradition that accomplishes sensory integration?</b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2E683rqwDuFW1icqhLBqwyHm5ewZCXEUrTVON2JZy52JqhpVg7qh-7nuHe5Z-tlyVqi7rUg_2ZNfaZIPI70VQVOm9LJeT-g7s1ibU9xeNdl8uUOU5z1jtWAkBPQxY_9tK5Pv3EfxPq3B/s1600/IMG_8934.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/AVvXsEgx2E683rqwDuFW1icqhLBqwyHm5ewZCXEUrTVON2JZy52JqhpVg7qh-7nuHe5Z-tlyVqi7rUg_2ZNfaZIPI70VQVOm9LJeT-g7s1ibU9xeNdl8uUOU5z1jtWAkBPQxY_9tK5Pv3EfxPq3B/s1600/IMG_8934.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a>Every year we buck the <a href="http://stockbridgechamber.org/visit/stockbridge-main-street-at-christmas/" target="_blank">Norman Rockwell</a> tradition and pile into one of our Priuses bound for our nearest Home Depot to pick out the freshest, tallest, cheapest evergreen tree we can possibly find. Inevitably rubbing shoulders with a few friends in the serpentine line, it is a seasonal sensory treat, even if it's not as picturesque as winter in <a href="http://yourhometownchagrinfalls.com/" target="_blank">Chagrin Falls</a> or <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjkiebus/reasons-christmas-in-new-york-city-ruins-you-for-life" target="_blank">New York City</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI81twS2rd_XmyVrMPw-awM4Ur-v1o8T3DRLheJzKBkMnTVmsud3uvVYPXDX9vVfqARw_6v9yeFgcVw8DDmB3FlYkNrUUR1NrD2JItV-6NtUsa7zgAqfqRJQEwLPmPgv0HtTvSifAYdaIp/s1600/SDC12378.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/AVvXsEiI81twS2rd_XmyVrMPw-awM4Ur-v1o8T3DRLheJzKBkMnTVmsud3uvVYPXDX9vVfqARw_6v9yeFgcVw8DDmB3FlYkNrUUR1NrD2JItV-6NtUsa7zgAqfqRJQEwLPmPgv0HtTvSifAYdaIp/s1600/SDC12378.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
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Reid makes a beeline for the corner of the nearest corral, crouches down low and crawls into the crevice created beneath a pile of bound and bagged pines. <i>That </i>is sensory integration at its best; a squeeze machine and aromatherapy all rolled into one. He breathes frasier fir in sensurround. The needles surely prickle or scrape his face and hands; a little sap on the fingertips is free for the taking. The distinctive sounds of backing forklifts, buzzing chainsaws, and busy consumers ring in his ears until a familiar alarm goes off across the lot: "Reid, say 'here I am!"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Here I am."</div>
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"Aha."</div>
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"Mom, I was hiding."</div>
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"I know you like to do that. Doesn't it smell so good?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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We load our tree into the hatchback along with armfuls of free boughs and breathe deeply the whole way home. All this--a rich, sensory diet--for way less than the going rate of an occupational therapist. I'll take it!</div>
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<br />
<i>Lord, guard my heart. Whatever happens, I want to see Reid through your eyes. Whatever they say or determine, doesn't change your plans for him. Guard my heart and his from the world's misperception and lies.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I have learned from experience that these appointments, however routine, can leave me in despair. <i>Not this time</i>, I declared in Jesus name.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbvqb83PSfcZRdBgAFvqHR3xEIMtH6hm_x9eRb7B9LhTd11l9N37HRFNMEhjZ47dQVG08QjTRawIGTayEcJEqpAZnzLpZb7mzeT5uw6X-E99TaZHAIjcBg4vMHhNKpIN66yVp8ZrPNWjM/s1600/clipboard.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbvqb83PSfcZRdBgAFvqHR3xEIMtH6hm_x9eRb7B9LhTd11l9N37HRFNMEhjZ47dQVG08QjTRawIGTayEcJEqpAZnzLpZb7mzeT5uw6X-E99TaZHAIjcBg4vMHhNKpIN66yVp8ZrPNWjM/s1600/clipboard.gif" height="238" width="320" /></a>We walked into the generic medical office chosen to provide an outside opinion of Reid's capacity, despite the paperwork and access to records I had already approved. It was one block from the Social Security office, in a neighborhood we don't frequent. Nicer than DMV, yet reminiscent in a way.<br />
<br />
<i>Hellooo! </i>Reid welcomed himself at the reception area appointed with framed prints of American veterans erecting flags.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Candy?! Miss, may I have one of those--from that bowl? </i>There were two candy bowls. He gestured to the bigger one by <i>"the lady on the computer."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
We checked in. I answered inane questions, as if I were Reid, on a form and clipboard:<br />
<br />
<i>Who drove you here?</i><br />
<i>Have you ever hurt your self?</i><br />
<i>Hurt others?</i><br />
<i>Do you see things others don't see?</i><br />
<i>What disables you from working?</i><br />
<i>Have you received treatment for this?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The million dollar question on my mind was: <i>Who writes these questionnaires? </i>The process itself lacks dignity and reeks of ignorance and disregard. I wanted to rephrase every single one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiliK92F0lL__gT_BMD0XYKMPNWFObcusO_HIvtOj-8T5bA1oIdbG7SQsld8BNthytWcqIGaFECHEWDlDlL5dV6-YaULweF0_vzW5llBiAzpy-Tpf-ijXdGewy7GTwSO82bg0P39F1buLZn/s1600/The-Nutty-Professor-2-The-Klumps-01-4.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/AVvXsEiliK92F0lL__gT_BMD0XYKMPNWFObcusO_HIvtOj-8T5bA1oIdbG7SQsld8BNthytWcqIGaFECHEWDlDlL5dV6-YaULweF0_vzW5llBiAzpy-Tpf-ijXdGewy7GTwSO82bg0P39F1buLZn/s1600/The-Nutty-Professor-2-The-Klumps-01-4.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a>A woman called, "<i>Rade</i>" to which we answered. She took Reid's weight, height and photo, then we returned to watch another scene from <i>The Nutty Professor</i>.<br />
<br />
An underemployed female doctor lacking affect called us the second time. A very standard cognitive assessment ensued.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm ready for the interview! </i>Reid said taking the hot seat in front of her laminate desk. The blinds were closed. I sat on the side as directed.<br />
<br />
<i>Are you his mom?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Yes. </i>So far this was easy.<br />
<br />
<i>When was he diagnosed with autism?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Age 3.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What behavioral issues does he have?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>All those associated with the spectrum. </i>Keep it simple.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Didn't he have any intervention, ABA therapy? </i> Maybe I was supposed to have listed those.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh yes. We did all that; it was just 15 years ago. He had a full-on home program, ABA, PRT, Floortime, the works.</i><br />
<br />
Reid watched me, obviously wondering when it would be his turn. <i>Seems like the interview is for me, doesn't it? It'll be your turn in a minute.</i><br />
<br />
When it was, she asked his name. Check. Address? Check. Birthday?<br />
<br />
<i>June 4, isn't that right mom? </i>I nodded.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What year?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>19…</i>. I helped when he got stuck.<br />
<br />
<i>2004</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>That's okay. </i>She made notes.<br />
<br />
<i>How many days in a week?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Seven</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How many months in a year?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Well, let's see…</i> He raised his fingers one at a time, in no particular rush.<br />
<br />
<i>January is 1, February is 2, March is 3</i>….. He restarted around <i>May…which is 5...</i>then finished strong.<br />
<br />
<i>November is 11...December is 12. Twelve months!</i><br />
<br />
Wishing she got paid by the hour, she smirked and moved onto another section.<br />
<br />
<i>What would you do if there was a fire in the building?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Get low and go! </i>Reid said without hesitation in all seriousness, recalling two loud fire drills at school in the past month.<br />
<br />
Our little-while doctor nearly chortled at the creative, appropo, and succinct response. She modeled a connect the dot numerical sequence. Reid completed his longer one in good time and handed her the paper.<br />
<br />
<i>It doesn't make anything, </i>he pointed out as if to say, what was the point of that?<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>No, there's no picture, </i>it took her a minute.<br />
<br />
More than once, he took the easy road handing things back to her saying, <i>it's too hard</i>. He seemed to have some opposite of test anxiety--maybe a new condition we could call "test familiarity." He mimicked her prompts in anticipation like they were the lyrics on our Top 40 radio station.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVnTo0gX8sAc2j-kepaFGdh8u6un77ZgxcOFk6VgDPeKCrFsTwIBQQXCtDnl9_HRpS7NZfmOpVzuBtQAtXMUGFwemElAY-TKK94bAbtDI7amXKJj3x3OtJ8t3o1HzAT8a6gC6eu6oUNNG/s1600/WechsWISC.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/AVvXsEilVnTo0gX8sAc2j-kepaFGdh8u6un77ZgxcOFk6VgDPeKCrFsTwIBQQXCtDnl9_HRpS7NZfmOpVzuBtQAtXMUGFwemElAY-TKK94bAbtDI7amXKJj3x3OtJ8t3o1HzAT8a6gC6eu6oUNNG/s1600/WechsWISC.jpg" height="320" width="171" /></a><br />
She handed him the WAIS-IV blocks he's seen a million times. He literally said, <i>let me get comfortable here </i>and pulled his legs up under him criss-cross applesauce in the vinyl barrel chair.<br />
<br />
She flipped forward in the spiral for harder material, then back when Reid was stumped. Recognizing the drill, he called her out to save time, <i>I need an easier one.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Can he read? </i>She addressed me now.<br />
<br />
<i>Yes. </i>She handed him a list of single words in a grid.<br />
<i><br /></i>
Reid played to her expectations, beginning at a labored speed.<br />
<br />
<i>See…live…water…journey…despite…</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
When he got to<i> "qua--ran-tine" </i>at the bottom of the page I couldn't help but think again about getting him a cameo acting spot on Sesame Street. He shines at dramatic decoding, with or without Elmo.<br />
<br />
<i>Okay, I'm going to ask you to write some words now.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Oh, like a spelling test! </i><br />
<br />
She was more than cracking a smile now. Reid brings joy to the most deadpan of faces.<br />
<br />
<i>We're all done then. I will submit my report. There should be no problem at all recommending him since he could not complete a 9-5 job 5 days a week.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Well, thank you for your time.</i> What else could I say?<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;">As we headed for the parking lot, the Lord gave me a word. It came out of my lips before I could think it up: </span></div>
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<i style="text-align: center;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="text-align: center;">Reid, you aced that! </i><span style="text-align: center;">(high five)</span><i style="text-align: center;"> The gifts God gave you can't be measured on a test. That way God gets all the glory, not us!</i></div>
<i><br /></i>
I put my manila folders and sweater in the back seat. <i>Mom, let's go! </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Yup, that was kinda boring but, at least you got to miss school. Let's go!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="text Col-2-10" id="en-NASB-29505">In Him you have been <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-29505A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></span>made complete, and <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-29505B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></span>He is the head over all <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-29505C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></span>rule and authority </span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=colossians%202:10&version=NASB#en-NASB-29505" style="text-decoration: none;" title="Go to Colossians 2:10">Colossians 2:10</a></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i style="background-color: white;"><br /></i></span>
<span class="woj" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="woj" style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-size: 16px;">Neither this man nor his parents sinned,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-size: 16px;"> said Jesus, </span><span class="woj" style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-size: 16px;">but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: blue;">John 9:3</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Search me, O God, and know my heart;</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: medium;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Try me and know my anxious thoughts;</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: medium;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">And see if there be any</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">hurtful way in me,</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="text Ps-139-24" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">And <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-16264D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></span>lead me in the <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-16264E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)"></span>everlasting way. </span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%20139:23-24#en-NASB-16264" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="Go to Psalm 139:24">Psalm 139:24</a></span></i></div>
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<i></i><br />
<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-80297879133248677242014-04-07T22:58:00.000-07:002014-04-07T23:05:34.934-07:00Who here remembers Moses?I once suggested we join a small group of elder statesmen in our church. Jim, not sure it was the right age classification, joked how it might go:<br />
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<i>Who here remembers Moses? (all hands raised)</i><br />
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<i>Hey, that guy owes me money.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrKtptUC3CLtAKIptnjSIOSdHC3UjsTAizTw0cXrnQcuKtTHDq4ivPkUBZw7vrGD-a_SOd-cB5HQln8xsChGwHTb4rm-pikJNPzdC8WNZ0Qx4g_ec32lXoXQH_0vLPpthl9Bva6pBAB5u/s1600/IMG_7328.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/AVvXsEgdrKtptUC3CLtAKIptnjSIOSdHC3UjsTAizTw0cXrnQcuKtTHDq4ivPkUBZw7vrGD-a_SOd-cB5HQln8xsChGwHTb4rm-pikJNPzdC8WNZ0Qx4g_ec32lXoXQH_0vLPpthl9Bva6pBAB5u/s1600/IMG_7328.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>Seriously though, what if you could interact with people who knew Moses--watched him grow up in Pharoah's court, knew of his speech impediment, were familiar with his big brother Aaron, saw him climb down the mount with the stone tablets, calmed him when his anger flared?<br />
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To me, that is the magic of studying the Bible: meeting real people in real situations and reading what the Lord did in their lives. "Remembering His deeds" in their lives opens up the possibilities for what He is doing in mine.<br />
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At different times in different studies, I have identified closely with the experiences of Esther, Jochebed, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Miriam. Their struggles aren't so different from mine; their God is the same powerful one I want to know.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will <b>remember</b> the deeds of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>; yes, I will <b>remember</b> your miracles of long ago. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+77:10-12&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">Psalm 77:10-12</a></span></i></div>
Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-81817206568479161552014-04-06T21:43:00.000-07:002014-04-06T21:43:06.119-07:00Rebuke<i style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jesus’ refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” He backed his <b>rebuke</b> with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: “Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness.” <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+4:9-11&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Matthew 4:9-11</a> </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywDdxkvyn7GRQdh3Idng1DHl209-Q4qC2bHnahp5lEU4kTTsAX-dzf1yNY1STWwCg9L84fYCxz-tH8NS1mxGoH64qW0rUujCNxRuMYP1NK0tb9T1l0mS7qQSOOpqhjknVS0BS5pq_7pOJ/s1600/rebuke_algemeiner.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/AVvXsEhywDdxkvyn7GRQdh3Idng1DHl209-Q4qC2bHnahp5lEU4kTTsAX-dzf1yNY1STWwCg9L84fYCxz-tH8NS1mxGoH64qW0rUujCNxRuMYP1NK0tb9T1l0mS7qQSOOpqhjknVS0BS5pq_7pOJ/s1600/rebuke_algemeiner.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rebuke is definitely a Bible word, right? We don't use it commonly; nor do we do it. By definition to rebuke is "to express sharp, stern disapproval of." It's neither advisable nor politically correct to rebuke one's kids, neighbors, or congressmen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Personally, I reserve my rebukes for the enemy. Even at that, I forget what an effective tool it is. It took me most of today--the morning after an unpleasant episode--to realize what was required.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For me, the formula goes something like this: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A difficulty + a disparaging word + my own discouraging voice = I'm down for the count (though I don't always know why). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The disparaging word can be from someone in my inner circle or someone I barely know. That person may or may not intend to send me sailing in a sea of despair. On another day, their comment might not even register. But given the right circumstances, my thoughts start downward spiraling in agreement with their uninformed lies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The enemy tried to get Jesus down. Remember His pattern of response? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He did it three times in a row in the wilderness wielding a different Scripture as his sword of the Spirit each time. This is when Bible study pays off;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Temptation (based on a lie) + Rebuke + Scriptural truth = Satan defeated</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The taunts being dangled in front of me this time had to do with Reid's future. How did I get the monkey off my back?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” Then I backed my <b>rebuke</b> with a quotation from Jeremiah 29: "</i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">This is </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: small-caps;">God</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><i>’s Word on the subject: </i></span></span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">For I know the plans</span><sup class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-19647A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> I have for <u>Reid</u>,” declares the </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">, “plans to prosper</span><sup class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-19647B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> him and not to harm him, plans to give him hope and a future."</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Believe it. It works.</span></span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-22152756898922545752014-04-05T17:02:00.001-07:002014-04-05T17:53:29.398-07:00Rejoice again<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="text Phil-4-4" id="en-NASB-29447" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Philippians 4:4</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> </span></i></span><br />
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Not sure if you got one of these in the mail. It was our Christmas card in 1994.<br />
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We rejoiced in the Lord then, for he gave us more than we <i>wanted</i>--a baby, actually two babies, a boy and a girl, a whole family! <br />
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We rejoice in the Lord now, for he gave us what we <i>needed</i>--a purpose, a calling, redemption, healing, an glimpse of his glory--so much more than we deserve!<br />
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Maybe that's why it's repeated, you think? Rejoice and again rejoice. God is always up to something.<br />
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What are you rejoicing (ie. to feel or show great delight) in today?<br />
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<i style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="text Phil-4-4" id="en-NASB-29447" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Philippians 4:4</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> </span></i>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-15399559305923800692014-04-04T11:37:00.000-07:002014-04-04T11:37:17.715-07:00got idols?<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Josiah <b>removed</b> all the detestable idols from all the territory belonging to the Israelites, and he had all who were present in Israel serve the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> their God. As long as he lived, they did not fail to follow the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, the God of their ancestors. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Chronicles+34:32-33&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">2 Chronicles 34:32-33</a> </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilU4hpOvYWFHw4BDfoP8QzNgKGFIFYhq66HZ0OZ-3jiYhCPcMY0hRMSno-SwxedrPBhe9zOHPFlqnKOQzmmq0_AoZrRiGpz0JTQGYlQJOG8f_ZAnxhrQJ2KX6wqUPYXMZWuB3KivO1bYuU/s1600/6a00d8341bffb053ef01310f97f4ca970c-500wi.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/AVvXsEilU4hpOvYWFHw4BDfoP8QzNgKGFIFYhq66HZ0OZ-3jiYhCPcMY0hRMSno-SwxedrPBhe9zOHPFlqnKOQzmmq0_AoZrRiGpz0JTQGYlQJOG8f_ZAnxhrQJ2KX6wqUPYXMZWuB3KivO1bYuU/s1600/6a00d8341bffb053ef01310f97f4ca970c-500wi.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Does that sound like an ancient concept that has no bearing on your weekend? Or can you personalize it and fill in some modern-day idols that take center stage in your life? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was a specific period of time when I demolished a number of<i style="color: #38761d;"> "arguments and every pretension that set itself up against the knowledge of God</i>" as <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/2%20Corinthians%2010%3A5" target="_blank">2 Corinthians 10:5</a> describes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">An idol has been defined as anything that occupies the forefront of your mind. It probably won't be a bronze calf, we're more sophisticated than that. What does your life revolves around though? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Being created to worship means that we are all susceptible to idolatry. Would-be gods are perpetually sneaking up on the altar of our hearts. They need to be removed and replaced with the One true God if we want what's best for ourselves. The very first commandment is that we have no other gods before Him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I see it best when Reid walks around with a new VHS tape. He fixates on its front, back, spine, memorizes the back matter, copyright date, and fine print. Watches YouTube videos like this one by a similar collector. It becomes his world and precludes all else. His eyes are 2" from the image. His ears replay the soundtrack. His mind reviews each scene. His fingers cling to the black plastic casing. It is all he can think about. He begs me to go to a thrift store and buy another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At first it's easy to dismiss or criticize as just bizarre, but then I begin to see what I am holding onto just as tightly. Go ahead, personalize it...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><u>Andrea</u> removed all the detestable idols from her territory--<u>food, wine, dessert, being in charge, pleasing people, safety, comfort, her reputation, her children, her iPhone, autism itself</u>--so all who were present served the Lord their God. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians+4:17-18&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">2 Corinthians 4:17-18</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Let us run the race marked out for us fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+12:1-3&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">Hebrews 12:1-3</a></i></span></div>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-40792738789705662732014-04-03T10:59:00.001-07:002014-04-03T10:59:56.172-07:00Of lemons, limes and Reordering life<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;">Let’s take a good look at the way we’re living and </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;">reorder </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;">our lives under </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; color: #38761d; font-variant: small-caps;">God</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;">. Let’s lift our hearts and hands at one and the same time, praying to God in heaven: We’ve been contrary and willful, and you haven’t forgiven. </span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Lamentations+3:39-41&version=MSG" style="background-color: white; text-decoration: none;">Lamentations 3:39-41</a></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Reorder our lives...</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Who would do this unless under duress?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know I didn't. It wasn't until everything fell apart that I was willing to say what we were doing needed to be re-ordered. Only then could I see how contrary and willful I really was.</span></i></div>
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Reid and I splurged last Saturday on lunch at California Pizza Kitchen. He got his usual cheese pizza, finished the word search on the kiddie menu, and was ready for the obligatory kid's sundae as he sucked on a lemon from my water glass.<br />
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<i>Lemons are sour mom.</i><br />
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<i>I know. They make you pucker.</i><br />
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<i>Limes are too.</i><br />
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<i>Yes, but you know they mix them with sugar to make key lime pie and that is yummy. </i>I was fondling the table tent that pictured their dessert offerings.<br />
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<i>Key lime pie! They have key lime pie? I want that instead of my kiddie sundae.</i><br />
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<i>Really? You're gonna change it up?</i> He always gets the same thing. Here, at Sammy's, at Las Olas, everywhere. Everytime.<br />
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<i>Yes, yes.</i><br />
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<i>You're sure?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Yes I want the key lime pie instead.</i><br />
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<i>Okay let me see if I can catch the waitress and re-order for you. Stay here.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWu1f5cpbkz8AoVJkn3q54OMN13Ee2-Q3JsyFYshFrFiVjLjx4XdOuqRhGf12Qt8wULmjRUOISXLpAF2d3xRzD5GWWYQQ6VzaDTFClOvLdqxA968lMkXgm0Bot1bzr-AoK6lTjLjWNB4ow/s1600/android-key-lime-pie-qualcomm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWu1f5cpbkz8AoVJkn3q54OMN13Ee2-Q3JsyFYshFrFiVjLjx4XdOuqRhGf12Qt8wULmjRUOISXLpAF2d3xRzD5GWWYQQ6VzaDTFClOvLdqxA968lMkXgm0Bot1bzr-AoK6lTjLjWNB4ow/s1600/android-key-lime-pie-qualcomm.jpeg" height="213" width="320" /></a>I caught her mid-scoop, cancelled the kiddie sundae, and reordered. Then came the best part.<br />
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<i>Mom, because I love you, </i><i>you can have two bites</i><i>.</i><br />
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Mmmmm...it was so much better--and bigger--than the boring old kiddie sundae he has always gotten.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Reordering your life, marriage, and home takes a little longer. One spouse has to learn to submit and not do everything herself. The other has to lead after hours, not just at work. It takes practice; it spills and makes a mess; it's sticky and you fall into the old way without realizing it. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But when it arrives, it's so much more delicious and satisfying than what you used to have. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">Let’s take a good look at the way we’re living and </span><b style="background-color: white;">reorder </b><span style="background-color: white;">our lives under </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-variant: small-caps;">God</span><span style="background-color: white;">. Let’s lift our hearts and hands at one and the same time, praying to God in heaven: We’ve been contrary and willful, and you haven’t forgiven. </span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Lamentations+3:39-41&version=MSG" style="background-color: white; text-decoration: none;">Lamentations 3:39-41</a></i></span></div>
Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-19008501284176753552014-04-02T12:32:00.002-07:002014-04-02T15:30:21.050-07:00It's April and I'm not Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>April to April</i>. It was the working title for the book I thought I was writing before we received <i>The Poppins Revelation. </i><br />
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It's also a catch phrase in our family. We use it to express how far we've been delivered from a crisis in April of 2010. April marks a new year in the Hebrew calendar and commemorates God's deliverance of the Jewish people from slavery during Passover. In a pretty tangible way, we can relate; God delivered us from the bondage of autism (and more) during April. <a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-people-are-re-people.html" target="_blank">Every April we watch it</a> come to more and more fruition.<br />
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April includes tax day....Jim's birthday...and Easter. It marks a full circle in our process of becoming rescued, redeemed, resurrected,<a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-people-are-re-people.html" target="_blank"> re- people</a>.<br />
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Thinking of April as <a href="http://www.autismspeaks.org/what-autism/world-autism-awareness-day" target="_blank">Autism Awareness Month</a> just pales in comparison.<br />
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Autism may be the presenting issue that takes me most often to the Lord. It might be one of the greatest challenges I have faced in life, but it isn't the only one, or the last one. And it surely doesn't have the last word. <br />
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Four years ago, I prepared daily posts during April. I had to abandon my post about day 13 when the proverbial #$%& hit the fan at our house. All that ensued is the subject of <i>The Poppins Revelation </i>book I am finishing<i>. </i>Through it, each member of our family was changed from the inside out. Frankly, autism is not the villain anymore. It was the vehicle.<br />
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This April I'd like to unpack one "Re-word" each day to remind us all that God's Word is the last word...on life, on autism, on cancer, on trials, on fear, on death. May it fall afresh on you...take root...and make all the difference.<br />
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Today's verse is a double portion: Review and Rewrote.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Every day I <b>review</b> the ways he works, I try not to miss a trick. I feel put back together, and I’m watching my step. <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span> <b>rewrote</b> the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Samuel+22:20-22&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">2 Samuel 22:20-22</a></span></i></div>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-12842379228315316232014-03-04T21:10:00.000-08:002014-03-04T21:10:01.899-08:00Bathroom or Bakery?I can tell from his stride whether he's had a good day or bad.<br />
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<i>Hii Mom!</i> he projects stills 1000 feet away strutting his stuff.<br />
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I don't call back but do smile when he reaches the car door.<br />
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<i>Can we go to Isabelle O'Briens. I have to use the restroom.</i><br />
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I burst out laughing, <i>Are you kidding me?</i><br />
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I can think of 30 restrooms and 3 bakeries that were closer than <a href="http://www.ibcafe.com/" target="_blank">Isabelle Briens</a>.<br />
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<i>You mean you want one of those almond croissants?</i><br />
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<i>Why, yes I do, </i>he said smirking with me.<br />
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He is nothing if not a connoisseur of musicals, soundtracks, and cinnamon rolls. A foodie after my own heart. Hers are the best, made of a legit French pate a choux rather than the heavy American pastry we settle for on Sundays from Panera. Don't even get me started on the almond croissants.<br />
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What could I say? <i>Sure, let's go and I'll get some almond cakes for Dad. </i>(Best gluten free pastry one could concoct.)<br />
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When do our kids learn that we will almost always say yes to a potty request? Toddlerhood? Grade school?<br />
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This is a new skill for Reid; call it theory of mind, manipulation, humor, or creative communication. Anyway you slice it, I'll take it.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“My dream went like this: I saw three wicker baskets on my head; the top basket had assorted pastries from the bakery... <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+40:15-17&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Genesis 40:15-17</a> </span></i></div>
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-66389029926988049342014-02-22T23:14:00.000-08:002014-02-23T14:32:56.016-08:00Someone Paid My WayIt's the second time in a month, so I guess I need to tell you. God's immense love gift manifested in my concrete day. All while I was out to lunch.<br />
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The first time it happened, Reid had had a tough day at school. By the time I saw him at 2:30, he had already apologized, had consequences doled out, and thoroughly debriefed with his multi-layered school staff. If, as they say, it's not over til the fat lady sings, I figured that was my job.<br />
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We cranked the radio up and moved on. Ready for a change of scenery, Reid suggested going straight to Las Olas, our <a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2012/11/no-more-yippers.html" target="_blank">favorite Mexican place</a> on the beach. I obliged. Fringe hours before the dinner rush are my favorite mercy. I hustled after him as he entered through the margarita bar to the host stand.<br />
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<i>Table for two pleeease! </i> He projected over the fray.<br />
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Then with elevated glee, <i>Mr. Wickman!</i><br />
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There at the bar sat his classroom teacher, with what looked like the rest of the athletic department, having a pint.<br />
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<i>How did he beat us here? </i>I puzzled. Apparently, his day had been rough as well. We exchanged awkward niceties about the infraction.<br />
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<i>Aw it was no big deal. </i><br />
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He is always the one who rolls with the punches and relieves my sheepishness.<br />
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Reid and I had a lovely time doing a word search on the kiddie menu. We wolfed down our refried beans and several baskets of chips at a table on the patio. A woman eating alone smiled in our general direction. I half wondered if she had a son like mine or where I'd seen her before.<br />
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When the waitress told me someone had picked up our tab, I was dumbfounded. The woman with the knowing smile was the one I might have thanked but she had already left.<br />
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Reid's tough days leave me feeling depleted...tired of hearing about the same failures, inadequate as a parent...helpless to bring about lasting change. Like a flashing amber arrow on the freeway, this unexpected diversion woke me to the reality that God has it covered.<br />
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The incident, the bill, our lives. His Son on the cross paid the price for our sins--big and small, continual and integral to our very nature. Our inability to measure up is as human as our need for another meal. He knows us; He made us. He loves us beyond reason. Which of course, is why He took care of it.<br />
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By contrast, today was a good day. Reid finished his laps at the YMCA. To celebrate we headed to Sammy's Woodfired Pizza. Why not? Jim wouldn't be home til late. Our timing was optimal again, sandwiched between the lunch and dinner crowds. Still, I surveyed the landscape of other patrons to avoid offending or being offended. Smiling preemptively goes a long way if something goes awry later, I have learned.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhygRrnycjXwb0A5zoc1nMV3f679kuF4ejZLKpzv70-suGAAmKgjKkAVQkcz8_G0BgiBWlPluQtBVlI0rFta3E_3iQlWRk4qSHFnNgEF-MRqjZDYUUCXoGNJHlwrEwzXSm7Du94hu3mogSP/s1600/photo+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/AVvXsEhygRrnycjXwb0A5zoc1nMV3f679kuF4ejZLKpzv70-suGAAmKgjKkAVQkcz8_G0BgiBWlPluQtBVlI0rFta3E_3iQlWRk4qSHFnNgEF-MRqjZDYUUCXoGNJHlwrEwzXSm7Du94hu3mogSP/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>After this messy sundae, the waiter returned my debit card, <i>Someone paid your check but I can't tell you who.</i><br />
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<i>What? Who? Oh that is so nice. Why...? </i><br />
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I stammered looking around for hidden cameras and eyeballing neighboring tables. An Italian family of three generations? Two women slightly older than me? A teenager taking his little brother out? One of the waiters? No idea.<br />
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<i>What possesses someone to do that? I never have...forty bucks is forty bucks.</i><br />
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I don't think we looked especially down-on-our-luck or needy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hLsxSVCGyOkd7-e267yPTpUEf3M00TGbNCUyNY5nGrp6VKi6Mz5l_UEAy6zrVPuWiF9cUaHyhMlPnkvLxdTOoaRDEhDCNE9lKVcACtOkJdH2lb_ZwyujEgVxymKb-mDJUmD3ulYK2XRQ/s1600/photo+1.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/AVvXsEi9hLsxSVCGyOkd7-e267yPTpUEf3M00TGbNCUyNY5nGrp6VKi6Mz5l_UEAy6zrVPuWiF9cUaHyhMlPnkvLxdTOoaRDEhDCNE9lKVcACtOkJdH2lb_ZwyujEgVxymKb-mDJUmD3ulYK2XRQ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><i>Had they seen us taking selfies in the car?</i><br />
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<i>Did they see Reid laying down between courses on the banquette and take pity on me? </i><br />
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<i>Perhaps they recalled pouring sugar packets in their own water glass once? </i><br />
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<i>Maybe when he picked the pepperoncinis out of the greek salad with his hands, they admired the kind and skillful way I inferred the desired action: </i>Here's your fork<i>.</i><br />
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<i>Or did they just understand the amount of the practice that went into getting this even close to right?</i><br />
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My mind retraced the hour we had been there wondering what would have prompted such intentional generosity. Again, no idea.<br />
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I guess that's the point. It has nothing to do with us. God loves us that way--when we're dirty, silly, picking our noses, making bad choices, self-conscious. He's for us when we're good. He's for us when we're not. Our behaviors don't change His provision nor impact His forgiveness, healing, salvation, and deliverance, one iota.<br />
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We don't earn it. We don't see it coming. We don't ask for it. We definitely don't deserve it. We barely know how to say thank you.<br />
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Has this ever happened to you? Then you know the feeling. All you can do is receive.<br />
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<i><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While He was reclining at the table in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came as guests to eat with Jesus and His disciples. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+9:9-11&version=HCSB" style="text-decoration: none;">Matthew 9:9-11</a></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="color: #38761d;">How joyful is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered! </span></i><i><span style="color: #38761d;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+32:1-3&version=HCSB" style="text-decoration: none;">Psalm 32:1-3</a></span></i></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians+5:20-21&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">2 Corinthians 5:20-21</a> </span></i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/_8DEsc1knvk" width="560"></iframe>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-18695946784846201332014-01-24T17:58:00.002-08:002014-01-25T07:54:46.163-08:00Door DingsHave you ever stood up to a bully? I don't think I really had, until last month.<br />
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I can certainly recognize one; my inclination for most of life has been mostly to avoid, walk the long way around, or ask Jim to do anything remotely confrontational. But I'm changed by a vulnerable child/young man who seems a barometer for all the bullies and demons of the world, if not a magnet. Hanging with him as closely as I must, exposes them in plain sight. Then, one has a choice, whether to coexist, feed them, or put them in their place. Ignoring or denying them is no longer an option.<br />
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After long seasons of skepticism, scrutiny, and experimentation, I've emerged convinced, convicted and confirmed that we do in fact have <i>authority in Christ to overcome all the power of the enemy</i>. I had a chance to exercise it last month.<br />
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We go straight from school to piano lessons on Monday. There isn't quite enough time to run home, but we arrive with 10 minutes to spare beforehand. Our routine is to sit in the car with the radio on and brush up on Top 40 lyrics. When a car pulled up in the empty spot next to us, I had the fleeting thought to be careful the two open doors didn't collide. When its female driver sat still talking on her phone, I dismissed the concern. She'd be gone by the time we were done.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL5UOIHudK1UQ-kX-_QqFgraqaDkR6Mmou5VQWTbSZQk7qsrgsIrJ0cZpTuemrtvJKJMC4cRKFDTCX4YsUrq8B6wiYWXcEipcggzmoFFqNxJ3C9cxVPhg6LrJxEFdOyVfMgkrobUq509w/s1600/door-dings.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/AVvXsEiTL5UOIHudK1UQ-kX-_QqFgraqaDkR6Mmou5VQWTbSZQk7qsrgsIrJ0cZpTuemrtvJKJMC4cRKFDTCX4YsUrq8B6wiYWXcEipcggzmoFFqNxJ3C9cxVPhg6LrJxEFdOyVfMgkrobUq509w/s1600/door-dings.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Ten minutes later, at the digital stroke of 3:15 Reid pushed power off, "Let's go up to Angela's!" He opened his door, tapped a dormant volcano and set off a torrent.<br />
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She went off like a rocket, <i>"What the %^&%^;*! You just hit the door of my BMW. What do you think you're doing?! I can't believe this..."</i><br />
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Whoa! I circled the back of my car and put my sturdy body between our vehicles. She was up and out bumping her own rearview mirror. <i>"I've been watching you,"</i> she addressed Reid. Then me when I got between them, "<i>I saw him acting disrespectful to you. I can't believe this."</i><br />
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Her nose was up against the glass of my resolve, close enough for spit to splatter.<br />
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Like a reflex fueled by boiling blood, my words stopped her in her tracks, <i>"He has a disability. Don't worry about your car. We will take car of it. You need to calm down RIGHT now. There is no need for you to be this angry."</i><br />
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Reid has a tendency to reflect whatever emotion is in the air. Fear, anger, hatred as well as love, kindness, worship. Indiscriminately, his incredible sensitivity to his environment means he mimics the spirits he's aware of in and on people (even those who are able to stifle it). He can magnify x10 what he senses around him. This is not always convenient.<br />
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My main concern was that her display might set Reid off in a dramatic instant replay, thus the physical blockade between the doors. A ding is one thing. Ramming do-overs would not be welcomed. Dousing her explosion like a bucket of water on a campfire was my first intent.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKSqJ7FUgrF3FwCMod7RPAQ3UcpTUkCBhZPtxU-K7Hc1HU1dxa7zbox5zFkn7PCklHWkTBB17fFK9LK2uNBCJ4Nbm4pEtLiWh7O1pt8cyFvD-lpJ_epf2qFM2SLo4OVrp8VLAPfgHU_T-/s1600/Fire+Out.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/AVvXsEilKSqJ7FUgrF3FwCMod7RPAQ3UcpTUkCBhZPtxU-K7Hc1HU1dxa7zbox5zFkn7PCklHWkTBB17fFK9LK2uNBCJ4Nbm4pEtLiWh7O1pt8cyFvD-lpJ_epf2qFM2SLo4OVrp8VLAPfgHU_T-/s1600/Fire+Out.jpg" /></a>She was out like a candle in the wind. I turned my back on her to address Reid.<br />
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<i>"Reid, I'm gonna close your door now and move the car. This woman is very angry so we are going to park somewhere else."</i> He seemed fine.<br />
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As I walked back around to the driver's side, the spiritual reality flashed before me. I had just taken authority. I was not afraid. That had been a stand off with the enemy. I recognized rage as a separate entity from that particular woman.<br />
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We moved our used Prius to the far end of the lot next to a dumpster enclosure. I forced a few deep breaths to recalibrate my adrenaline level and heart rate.<br />
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"<i>Okay Reid, that was an accident. You dinged her car door and she overreacted. I'm not mad, but she is. We might have to pay for her to get it fixed. Here's what we're gonna do. First, pray. "Lord, in Jesus name, we bind that spirit of anger and any unclean spirits associated with it." </i><br />
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<i>"Amen," </i>he's heard this before.<br />
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<i>"When someone is that angry, I want you to know, you don't engage physically or take it into your own hands. You take authority over it in prayer instead."</i><br />
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<i>"Now, we still need to apologize to her in a nice voice. Let's go over and say, 'I'm sorry I hit your door' in a calm voice. Then, you can go up to your lesson and I'll talk to her some more."</i><br />
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<i>"Okay mom. I'm calm."</i><br />
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As we approached, Reid delivered his line through her car window as directed. She hardly let him finish, <i>"I had no idea. I'm so sorry. It's no big deal. I have this car on a lease. They won't even notice."</i><br />
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What had been cause for a tirade was now a moot point. It works people, it works. Whatever had come over her left without a trace.<br />
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Praise you Father for the victory we have in you. Teach us to stand in that authority.<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+10:18-20&version=NIV" style="text-decoration: none;">Luke 10:18-20</a> </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic;">A curse on their uncontrolled anger</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic;">, on their indiscriminate wrath. I’ll throw them out with the trash; I’ll shred and scatter them like confetti throughout Israel. </span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+49:6-8&version=MSG" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none;">Genesis 49:6-8</a><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Post this at all the intersections, dear friends: Lead with your ears, follow up with your tongue, and let anger straggle along in the rear. God’s righteousness doesn’t grow from human anger. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=James+1:18-20&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">James 1:18-20</a> </i></span></div>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-18309081786573464052013-12-21T09:34:00.002-08:002013-12-21T09:34:39.799-08:00On Being Home for Christmas<i>*A year ago today, Nana heard the angels sing for real. She enhanced the meaning of Christmas for us, both in life and through death. I am reposting the words I shared at her memorial service.</i><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-right: 1em; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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Paris 1969</div>
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I wanted to share the rush of thoughts that flooded my mind Friday, December 21, 2012 when I got the news about my Nana. None of us live forever. Surely, we all knew this was coming. At 100 years old, Nana had definitely lived a full and complete life.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Being in California, I was not able to visit her in Sandusky, Ohio very easily or often. Over the past few years, I was painfully aware that every phone call might end up being our last goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">As it turned out, I was in a long line at the post office waiting to mail Christmas presents that Friday so, I didn't take my mom's call when it came in. She had joined the hospice workers at Nana’s side the day before so I sensed I might want more privacy to take her call. I did play back her voicemail though while I waited my turn, to hear her say, “Mother is in the arms of the Lord.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Time froze at that point and all I could hear was Phillip Phillips, “Home” song piping through the post office loudspeaker. Perhaps you know it from his American Idol fame or from the U.S. gymnastics team theme song from the summer Olympics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Music has a way of ushering us back and forth between the physical and spiritual realms. As I sat in my car for awhile, called my mom back, and absorbed the poignancy of Nana's passing and the timing of the song, I couldn't help but be impressed by the tenderness of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">That very week, I was waiting for my daughter, Allie, to return home from her first semester at college in Boston. She was due back December 22<sup>nd</sup> and it wouldn’t <i>really </i>be Christmas until she got here. I could so easily imagine how Nana must have felt during so many Christmasses past as she welcomed all of our extended family--her 4 children, 10 grands and 21 great grandchildren--home for the holidays. It was the heart of God in her to welcome us home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">For my entire childhood, we came home to 44<sup>th</sup> Street in Sandusky for Christmas. It was “heaven” to us as kids. Nana made it so. Without fail, she greeted us at back door as arrived from various out of town places.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john%2014&version=HCSB" target="_blank">John 14:2</a> says,</span></b><span style="font-family: Times;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b>“<i>In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”</i></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Waiting to descend Nana's stairs one Christmas morning</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Like heaven, Nana’s house had many rooms. Each one bore the mark of her attention to detail and meticulousness. Like her, they emanated a clean distinctive air, an unattainable blend of Bon Ami, Fels Naptha soap, and peroxide all doused in </span>powder puffs of Crabtree & Evelyn "Nantucket" talc and violets. The kitchen had a bulletin board with pictures of the entire family arranged neat as a pin and prominently displayed for all to see--or find themselves. You could bank on the cookie jar being full of her trademark ice box oatmeal cookies and a not-so-secret drawer stocked with Snickers, York peppermint patties and packs of Wrigley’s gum. The showpiece of the kitchen was her 1940’s Frigidaire in mint condition inside and out. It was vintage before vintage was hip.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Her dining room boasted custom mural wallpaper depicting a plantation landscape. It looked brand new and stylish though it was hung thirty years prior. Her silver service and glasses were always polished and ready at a moment’s notice. </span></div>
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In the family room were four built-in knotty pine cubbies, one for each of her children, filled with school photos, wedding portraits and other milestones in that particular branch of the family tree.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Like her, the house was always the same: furnished, appointed, and maintained in picture perfect condition. She set the bar on cleanliness that Py women ever since strive to attain. It is no exaggeration that you could eat off her basement floor, maybe even the garage floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">But she was not a “Martha” about it--the woman in the Bible remembered for being slightly frazzled, harried, perturbed, even resentful. Quite the opposite, Nana went about her tasks gracefully, as if she were royalty. She was never rushed or busy bodied. She always had time to sit and tickle your arm or take a phone call. Try as we might, we will never meet her standard, nor her calm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">There was one room in her house that retained a certain mystery. The door was often closed, especially if you got up as early as her in the morning. With practical dark brown carpet and hunter green upholstery, it was not exactly off limits but, we all knew to knock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">There was a safe in the closet of this room that I don’t think I ever entered. We knew it was there though, for on Christmas morning she’d unlock it and retrieve the traditional minted coin sets for all the grandsons, pearls for the girls, savings bonds and distribution checks for her children. This den was where she kept the valuables. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">It was also her sanctuary. The Lord’s Prayer was framed on the wall; a needlepoint kneeler was poised before an open Bible on a stand and a wood carving of praying hands. Nana prayed there every morning and told us of having done so with Papa when he was alive. I believed her the many times she told me, ”I pray for you everyday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Her faith was real, active, consistent and pure, even if private. Her statement of faith might be summed up in these words she told me more than once, “God said it. I believe it. That settles it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">She had no need to beg to differ or debate. She believed the Bible as it was written and applied it daily and consistently with pressure as if polishing that silver so it was ready at a moment’s notice. I think the most valuable legacy she leaves us is her unwavering faith and those prayers for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">As we’d leave Nana’s house after a holiday, she’d send us out the back door with lunch for the road, ham sandwiches, Snickers bars, and a jar of mustard pickles. As we’d back out the narrow, hedged driveway she’d scamper to the front window, poke her little gray head out between the dining room drapes, throw a kiss and stand there waving until our car rounded Hancock Street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">As she left us last Friday, my mom and Betsy, one of her favorite nurses, were on either side of her bed singing old familiar Christmas carols. Music was the conduit ushering her into the heavenly realm. They sang all 3 verses of Silent Night as we will do at the end of this service. I believe Jesus welcomed her to a place He’d prepared with more care then even Nana could imagine. (And would you believe that very same song, Silent Night, came on the radio this morning as we watched them carry her out of Groff Funeral home?) God is so tender with us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">For me, the meaning of Christmas was enhanced this year by thinking of Nana’s new reality. At last, she could <i>see</i> what she’d <i>believed</i> for so many years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">This Jesus, whose birthday we just celebrated, was Lord at his birth and Christ her Savior was born. He made a way for her to come home. As they sang those lyrics to her, I believe she was literally seeing "<i>glories stream from heaven afar.</i>” The Son of God, <i>love’s pure light,</i> surely greeted her with “<i>radiant beams from His holy face.”</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #051018; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20corinthians%205&version=HCSB" target="_blank">2 Corinthians 5:1</a></span></b><span style="color: #051018; font-family: Times;"> says, </span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b>“<i>We know that if the life we live here on earth is ever taken down like a tent, we still have a building from God. It is an eternal house in heaven that isn't made by human hands.</i>”</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">“God said it. Nana believed it. That settles it.” She was truly <i>home</i> for Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">I can picture her at the back door of heaven waiting for each one of us to arrive so the fun can really begin! </span>As she would say, “There is always a light on in the window” and it’d be “wunnerful" if you would be there too.</div>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-20672796057828056372013-12-10T07:00:00.000-08:002013-12-10T08:02:03.623-08:00Top 10 Tuesday: Juvenile Christmas Books<div>
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Juvenile books maintain their edge as attention spans diminish in the digital age. We appreciate their intensity of flavor that's been reduced like a demi-glace to its essentials--not to mention the illustrations that convey the message visually as we're now accustomed.</div>
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Here are the favorites I just moved from the garage to our living room. Since my toddlers are now teenagers, I notice most of these are available used, dirt cheap, on Amazon, except for the few that are out of print. Gives you motivation to visit your local library or <a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2013/12/top-10-tuesday-thrift-stores-in-san.html" target="_blank">thrift store</a>!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjqInn6mqTNoWMYBT8oc27k4SQ11PR6xFZk2SmEYlh-4gmBKon9Xec9oje5xCy_joVWFVNvBpZZiI0nv6KIp9ZGxOSTWg0lzR5YWKdDy9h2VXJnffgBSRP9d-aLrrcILLnoSCSXlGSOrD/s1600/IMG_9085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjqInn6mqTNoWMYBT8oc27k4SQ11PR6xFZk2SmEYlh-4gmBKon9Xec9oje5xCy_joVWFVNvBpZZiI0nv6KIp9ZGxOSTWg0lzR5YWKdDy9h2VXJnffgBSRP9d-aLrrcILLnoSCSXlGSOrD/s320/IMG_9085.jpg" width="239" /></a>10. <u>Wombat Divine</u> by Mem Fox. There's a place for everyone in the Nativity.</div>
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9. <u>The Best Christmas Pageant Ever</u> by Barbara Robinson. The original <a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-truth-of-seuss-brokenchristmas.html" target="_blank">#brokenChristmas </a>that breaks through religious spirits to experience Jesus.</div>
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8. <u>Jotham's Journey: A Storybook for Advent</u> by Arnold Ytreeide. A daily dose of cliff-hanging historical fiction set in the time of Jesus' birth.</div>
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7. <u>Tabitha's Travels: A Storybook for Advent</u> by Arnold Ytreeide. Similar to above with a girl heroine.</div>
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6. <u>The Christmas Miracle of Jonathon Toomey</u> by Susan Wojciechowski. Taps my healed father wound. </div>
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5. <u>The Legend of the Poinsettia</u> by Tomie dePaolo. Nothing but the blood of Jesus foreshadowed!</div>
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4. <u>B is for Bethlehem</u> by Isabel Wilner. Illustrated by Elisa Kleven. It's all about the pictures.</div>
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3. <u>Santa's Favorite Story</u> by Hisako Aoki. How I reconciled the Santa myth multi-culturally.</div>
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2. <u>A Dozen Silk Diapers</u> by Melissa Kajpust. I love practicality and inclusion of all the animals.</div>
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1. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+2%3A1-20&version=NIV" target="_blank">Luke from The Message</a> by Eugene Peterson. Doesn't get any better than the true story.</div>
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-5666753524418859172013-12-07T15:16:00.000-08:002013-12-09T14:01:36.548-08:00The Truth of Seuss: #BrokenChristmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hlyJydVG96yXKNvWagTvqrXukvW-cSQA01xAVCz0P2CdyFPx2Zm68wzZaL2hCzfxMMZpMYRMDl6BLCGAkMTVG2wMHVJoNcFrGjzY4wTT9kSAHEQ17j3X5wORCQMYI_QywF5gEqIMBRM0/s1600/IMG_0851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hlyJydVG96yXKNvWagTvqrXukvW-cSQA01xAVCz0P2CdyFPx2Zm68wzZaL2hCzfxMMZpMYRMDl6BLCGAkMTVG2wMHVJoNcFrGjzY4wTT9kSAHEQ17j3X5wORCQMYI_QywF5gEqIMBRM0/s320/IMG_0851.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I loved having another foodie in the house. Our winsome niece, Kat, unpacked her Patagonia duffels, slept in "the drawer" as we dubbed Allie's trundle bed, and fit right into our family for just shy of a year. It ended all too soon as we stood motionless in the driveway watching her drive into the sunrise. To us, it felt like the wrong direction. Our happy pack of puppies was forever depleted by one, neither the runt nor alpha dog, but surely the one with the wettest nose, keen on frolicking with all the others.<br />
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We packed a lot into those months as she pined for a lifestyle marketing job in California. All my household chores were more fun with this Cornell Hotel and Restaurant management graduate. Whether we were kicking tires on used Volkswagens, stocking my pantry with antioxidants from Whole Foods, squeezing specialty produce at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Chino" target="_blank">Chino's farm</a> stand, or mixing ginger and pear mocktails in our Vitamix, it was more luxury than I'd indulged myself in years. The affectionate nickname she gave me, "DG" (for Domestic Goddess), egged me on. Her tongue must have been in her cheek, when she dubbed herself "DiGiT," (Domestic Goddess in Training). We did nearly everything together. Except when she was playing big sister to Allie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAp-ezIa8W8xxrltRqjdKOhn_qCYYynuyEceaoVRp7kU-4keYugjnbcA8-h0dqzFwOaED9uwbCAaaUNVkRb51CJDEtO_eJjP3yCraXZ2i4janRYDQ9MJGYu_7n_X0nJvRmUDNZcmh3XrIG/s1600/SDC12466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAp-ezIa8W8xxrltRqjdKOhn_qCYYynuyEceaoVRp7kU-4keYugjnbcA8-h0dqzFwOaED9uwbCAaaUNVkRb51CJDEtO_eJjP3yCraXZ2i4janRYDQ9MJGYu_7n_X0nJvRmUDNZcmh3XrIG/s320/SDC12466.JPG" width="320" /></a>Sharing a room with a cousin 10 years older gave Allie more insight, foresight, and camaraderie, than we knew she'd been missing. It was a double portion of intimacy, compensation for waiting 15 years in vain for her twin brother with autism to play with her or converse. In one easy stride Allie could step into Kat's shadow on the sidewalk of life.<br />
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Living so far west, we had not experienced family as part of our daily grind. It was a gift as well-tailored as the ones she gave us that Christmas. Kat takes shopping to Olympic levels, both online and off. She presented inspired gifts to each of us: a Lego model of the Guggenheim museum for Jim, a bright turquoise space dye Lululemon jacket for me, Lulu pants for Allie, and a theater-sized poster of <i>Singin' in the Rain</i> for Reid demonstrated both her generosity and keen insight into each of our passions.<br />
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My<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> </span>only annoyance with her the entire year was her insistence on reading the <i>Grinch Who Stole Christmas</i> daily during December.<br />
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Oy vay, had she not seen the stack of more scriptural Advent devotionals and juvenile picture books I unpacked with the ornaments? Of all the books to reinforce in one's mind right before entering a sub-conscious dream state, why that one? And must we begin our day with it too? I'll admit, it irked me, to hear it's relatively vacuous rhyme being recited as if it were gospel. More than once, I offered alternatives, hand-carrying an illustrated edition of Luke 2 to her bedside. Propping Ruth Graham Bell's luscious summary of the New Testament, A <i>Wintry Night,</i> open on the kitchen table. No nibbles.<br />
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I let it go. And like proverbial true love, it came back.<br />
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Christmas Eve we grazed on our traditional salade Nicoise and champagne in front of the fire. The kids, even our newly arrived eldest, nestled themselves into flannel sheets aware that Jim and I would want time to arrange presents under the tree. Hustling to get to bed ourselves, we were mindful that Reid's body clock did not adjust for our champagne consumption. He had been the first one up for many a moon. Holidays were no exception.<br />
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I awoke to a whimpering, crestfallen teen, "Maaom, Reid's downstairs. I think he unwrapped all the gifts."<br />
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"Huh...?" I mumbled from under the covers.<br />
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"Will you go check?" she pleaded with me. I sensed the recurrent, unutterable feeling we worked to repress: he ruined everything. The subtext my mother's heart heard was,<i> can't you fix it?</i><br />
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All I wanted was to rewind to silence and a cup of coffee, or more sleep. I think it was 4 am. I trudged downstairs without stopping in the bathroom. Sure enough, the place had been ransacked. Shredded paper littered the living room. Anything that was <i>not </i>aVHS, DVD, or CD lay discarded haphazardly like a Jackson Pollack splatter painting.<br />
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<i>A two year old could have done this, </i>I thought.<br />
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<i>I can't believe he's almost 16 and we're dealing with this? </i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Will he ever outgrow this impulsivity? </i></span></i><br />
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<i>Why can't we have a normal Christmas?</i><br />
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The injustice of it hurt. I couldn't give Reid a lifetime supply of self-control anymore than I could promise Allie he'd answer her, play with her, interact with her, or tease her like a typical brother. I felt like an utter failure. Failing her...failing him...failing to provide harmony in my home.<br />
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Jim joined me, groggy in his slouchy pajama bottoms. Somewhere in the rubble was a new pair that would fit him better. Together, without talking, we tried to salvage our expectations.<br />
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We repurposed any available packaging. Putting books in gift bags, folding clothes in piles, searching for tiny treasures, trying to recall what was missing, we embraced recycling at a new level. Channelling <a href="http://www.christojeanneclaude.net/" target="_blank">Christo</a>, the environmental artist, we wrapped every store-bought thing. Ribbon bound gaping torn paper in creative disguise. We fluffed and swaddled until it looked how we thought Christmas ought to look.<br />
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Jim broke the blur of silence, fatigue and resolution, "I think we're handling this pretty well, don't you?"<br />
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As we ruminated, two things dawned on me. The joy really is in giving. Our actual presents were unharmed. Everything we'd chosen was in tact, there in plain sight. What had been taken was the experience of handing each one out expectantly watching how it was received. As the giver, in most cases, I wanted to be present to enjoy each person opening what I'd picked for them.<br />
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Second, it was like the Grinch had come through here.<br />
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The words of the storybook, practically memorized now, woke me like an alarm: <i>It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags....What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store? What if, Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?</i><br />
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It was true! We believed that. Could we actually <i>do it</i> now?<br />
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We went upstairs to console the girls. They sat sulking and whispering with arms akimbo. <i>It's not fair. Those were mine, </i>steamed from their nostrils into one conjoined bubble above their heads. Their breathing was audible: a strained inhale then forced exhale.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HQVup51SW9dyYldA8PEZ-Wj8HWm0Q9Xhm-SqzIivSgX-MT1vbRXUF2055i4CAJe3xonNrfFUvk2v6l0cjzD1WVg4yfLP8O7j6F-dBi2tcIwE_Z4PbsHU0yO-5xXLEmO6wJ-j0iIO8Lkj/s1600/SDC12507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HQVup51SW9dyYldA8PEZ-Wj8HWm0Q9Xhm-SqzIivSgX-MT1vbRXUF2055i4CAJe3xonNrfFUvk2v6l0cjzD1WVg4yfLP8O7j6F-dBi2tcIwE_Z4PbsHU0yO-5xXLEmO6wJ-j0iIO8Lkj/s320/SDC12507.JPG" width="320" /></a>I couldn't help notice the stack of unharmed, picture-perfect parcels Kat kept stashed beside Allie's desk. Her mom had sent them from designer stores on the other side of the Mississippi. Let's just say at this point they were grossly mismatched with what was under our tree. Their creased corners and glossy graphics salted the wound, underscored the shabby salvage like "wash me" scratched in a cracked windshield.<br />
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Plopping on the trundle with them, I asked, "Kat, where's that Seuss book you've been reading all season? Read the last page."</div>
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Seuss left it open ended. I wasn't going to risk confusion. Truth needed to be declared in the face of this attempted robbery.<br />
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After some succinct theology, we clustered in the chill around a wooden manger Jim had built as decoration for our front door step. Filled with evergreen boughs and a baby doll wrapped in a linen napkin, it was a semblance of the first Christmas.</div>
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We sang<i> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Djsjh3BLsZ0" target="_blank">I Love You Lord</a></i>, which was more of a solo but, I didn't care. They really did rally for <i>Happy Birthday to Jesus. </i>And even a little <i>Fahoo fores...Dahoo dores...</i><br />
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A poignant memory was born out of the hullabaloo Reid caused. He hadn't ruined anything. In fact, God may have sent him to fix a few things.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I’ll give you a new heart, put a new spirit in you. I’ll remove the stone heart from your body and replace it with a heart that’s God-willed, not self-willed. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ezekiel+36:23-25&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Ezekiel 36:23-25</a> </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">“Where can we find and pay homage to the newborn King of the Jews? We observed a star in the eastern sky that signaled his birth. We’re on pilgrimage to worship him.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+2:1-3&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Matthew 2:1-3</a></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"> wasn’t to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"> wasn’t in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"> wasn’t in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings+19:10-12&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">1 Kings 19:10-12</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"> </span><br />
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-64068957932246424692013-12-06T08:49:00.000-08:002013-12-06T08:49:56.696-08:00Five Minute Friday: ReflectTaking <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" target="_blank">Lisa Jo Baker's prompt</a> here:<br />
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Reflect....is that not all I do? "A Mother's Reflective Voice in the Hullabaloo" is the subtitle on my auto signature promoting this blog--my attempt to summarize all I post in one pithy phrase.<br />
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Reflect: to look back at what has happened in an attempt to find meaning or <i>make</i> meaning out of it.<br />
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Reflect: to shine from a light that is not your own.<br />
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<a href="http://www.saragroves.com/" target="_blank">Sara Groves has a song</a> about this and I'm certain she had more than 5 minutes to write it. "You are the Sun"...I am the moon. I have no light of my own...but find purpose in reflecting yours in the dark places of the world.<br />
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Gotta get in His presence if we want to shine, not flicker out....(Boy, I write slowly....STOP)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/kqC3F2VGVHU" width="420"></iframe>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-84318245368854490132013-12-03T07:30:00.000-08:002013-12-03T12:07:14.847-08:00Top 10 Tuesday: Thrift storesI wonder if Reid might single handedly rid the world of old technology.<br />
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Like father like son, I guess. Jim is an early adopter; he had the iOS 7 software a year ago through some early bird developer special. Like his dad, Reid itches for electronics. He finds internet in spots it's not supposed to be available. I've watched him hack online in the back room of ski resorts and rewire the complex mess of U-verse, Sonos, and miscellaneous cables behind our flatscreen. Taking even one step closer to the cutting edge, Reid seems committing to buy up all remaining vestiges of VHS media in San Diego county.<br />
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The 25 cent-$1.00 price point on VHS tapes make it a reasonable entry in our budget. (I compare it to the amount of Starbucks Allie drank.) We <i>try to</i> limit it to 1 or 2 a week, not because of the money so much as the viewing time that ensues. Every Friday is thrift store day. Half the fun--in all thrifting--is the pursuit...the search and find. Not knowing what they'll have, ensures a constant craving.<br />
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We've memorized the hours and befriended the owners at these establishments. It's a slice of life for sure. Honestly, I find them refreshing for the grace they embody. Recycling, redeeming, rescuing treasure, whether inanimate or flesh and blood.<br />
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10. Dan the Man's (otherwise known as St. Peters Thrift, Academy Drive, Solana Beach)<br />
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9. Solana Beach Library<br />
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8. Del Mar Library<br />
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7. Rancho Santa Fe Library Book Cellar (bundled 10 for $5 in curling ribbon can present an issue)<br />
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6. Cardiff-by-the-Sea Library branch<br />
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5. Community Resource Center (only DVD's in Encinitas now, Carlsbad for VHS)<br />
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4. Salvation Army, Rosecrans in Point Loma, the motherlode, don't go on Friday in traffic<br />
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3. The Resale Shoppe, Rancho Assistance League (beside Trader Joe's in Encinitas)<br />
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2. St. James Thrift Store, Del Mar behind Union Bank<br />
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1. DAV's in Oceanside, or as we like to say, "Dave's"<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">“God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidentally found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic—what a find! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+13:43-45&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Matthew 13:43-45</a></span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"If you seek <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span>, your God, you’ll be able to find him if you’re serious, looking for him with your whole heart and soul. </i></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="keywordresultextras"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy+4:28-30&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Deuteronomy 4:28-3</a>0</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"You may think you have cleaned out the junk from your lives and gotten ready for God, but you weren’t hospitable to my kingdom message, and now all the devils are moving back in.” </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="keywordresultextras" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+12:42-44&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;"><i>Matthew 12:42-44</i></a></span></span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-61650035328073484572013-10-10T19:03:00.002-07:002013-10-10T19:11:23.700-07:00Movie Lines Aptly SpokenReid has a knack for pulling a movie line out of thin air at the most opportune times. As they say in <i>Mary Poppins</i>, "There is a word, a perfectly good word...something to say when you don't know what to say..." Going way beyond "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" he stuns me frequently with an appropo reference.<br />
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Case in point: we were downtown recently and decided to check out the new San Diego Central Library. It wasn't quite open yet. Two guards stood out front at the police barricades. Reid, dying to know if they had a book sale room with VHS tapes, had one foot out the open car door when the security officers saw us. I spied the CLOSED for CONSTRUCTION sign about the same time they yelled out across the vacant 3-way intersection, "September 28th we'll be open. Come back!"<br />
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Oh you know we will! It's a plan. At Reid's insistence, I promised we would come back on September 28 for the Opening Festivities. Music, family friendly street fair, activities...we're in! As we anticipated the outing everyday after school, he kept tabs "Is it Sept. 28? Is this Saturday the day? We are going to the Central Library Saturday right, Mom?" I assured him, yes. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iiODx5ffYXgY4FU_bNKLxibRXQuf8Cv89NthmFv4Nl5r8bZ_VKLKjzg8s_PPz-s9zaMYYIsriiHVpCjrncc6m4TX-yJ0Xt42U_H_NvKM6kpJbcTzRdBMTnAVidLAhAbzf9oUZR6q_VbH/s1600/Wizard+of+Oz.jpg.png.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iiODx5ffYXgY4FU_bNKLxibRXQuf8Cv89NthmFv4Nl5r8bZ_VKLKjzg8s_PPz-s9zaMYYIsriiHVpCjrncc6m4TX-yJ0Xt42U_H_NvKM6kpJbcTzRdBMTnAVidLAhAbzf9oUZR6q_VbH/s320/Wizard+of+Oz.jpg.png.jpeg" width="320" /></a>On one of these occasions he reflected on our drive by, "It was like in the Wizard of Oz when they said, "Come back tomorrow."<br />
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I had to look it up. Sure enough:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;">Wizard of Oz: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;">[speaking in a booming voice into microphone]</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;">Do not arouse the wrath of the great and powerful Oz. I said <em style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">come back tomorrow</em><em style="font-style: normal;">.</em></span></span><br />
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We did go back, just as Dorothy and friends did. Approaching the new structure was a bit like the Emerald City. It's as big and glass and as ominous as a spaceship in the wrong port. The enormous crowd made me think there was a game at Petco stadium. The band made me wonder who defined "family friendly."<br />
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"It's kinda like California Adventure," Reid observed as I looked up to see various dance troupes performing in the barricaded street. Just like the Pixar parade...but not.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmD_kq4Yx_wvcQuXfCgI_R2yEJAeOSJuLTuU43wj-k8z1g9geogri15g3z2E5FOrqKpDjatf04aiJSxQr6do6ajriV_kcC59Anc1BXJxQu87t8ehaTKv5iNw7i0AR3dpPeDtZO_3MuhJMM/s1600/photo+1.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/AVvXsEgmD_kq4Yx_wvcQuXfCgI_R2yEJAeOSJuLTuU43wj-k8z1g9geogri15g3z2E5FOrqKpDjatf04aiJSxQr6do6ajriV_kcC59Anc1BXJxQu87t8ehaTKv5iNw7i0AR3dpPeDtZO_3MuhJMM/s320/photo+1.jpg" width="239" /></a>It was a formula for fiasco as we beelined in hot pursuit of the obligatory Book Sale room--through a path designated as the exit for today only. Reid minded my changing directions, u-turned, walked around the entire spaceship until we found today's entrance complete with security check and a queue wrapped around the other corner of the building. "Oy oy oy...how is this going to work? It isn't." Was I talking outloud?<br />
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I spied an Inclusion Community social group, easily identifiable by their matching t-shirts. Their leader appealed to the powers that be to jump the line while her matching colleagues corralled the escalating adult clients struggling to cope in the chaos. I considered joining them. That might be just the ticket and even without the t-shirts, we qualified. Reid actually skirted half way in but came back out to me complying to another guard.<br />
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By then I'd learned the Book Sale room wasn't open yet anyway--for this very public sneak peek. And opted to appeal to Reid's sense of logic.<br />
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"Reid, this would be a lot more fun if we come back next week when there aren't so many people. Whadd 'ya say we go get lunch instead?"<br />
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"You're right, Mom. Let's go." And off we went...as disillusioned as Dorothy and the TinMan when they met the Wizard.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. Proverbs 25:11</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life—to God!—is vigorous and requires total attention. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+7:12-14&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Matthew 7:12-14</a></i></span></div>
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-37970916571454171152013-10-04T11:31:00.004-07:002013-10-04T11:33:37.316-07:00Relish<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You don't need relish, but it sure improves a hot dog. Relishes, chutneys, tapenades...those sides I rarely take time to serve yet, make a meal of by myself. Their real purpose is contrast, perspective, juxtaposition to the main thing, be it pork, poultry or beef...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim3j9_-NH5ZCTuwU9ihC31JYOND3v5qTlQdFduoAQH36oc3nZGXQvtQvUujECw1cqCfrSTgO3qyumrwaqzCpXV5c8PX1owtBN013I03KHDoZdOfqnIL-3lEzPZ1PYGxyUQptfvw7BURXqx/s1600/4238_1_296.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/AVvXsEim3j9_-NH5ZCTuwU9ihC31JYOND3v5qTlQdFduoAQH36oc3nZGXQvtQvUujECw1cqCfrSTgO3qyumrwaqzCpXV5c8PX1owtBN013I03KHDoZdOfqnIL-3lEzPZ1PYGxyUQptfvw7BURXqx/s1600/4238_1_296.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reid's new mainstay is walking up the hill (and down in the afternoon) to his classroom independently. Basic as this is, he has never done it. For his entire school-going career, an aide (or multiple staff) have met him or accompanied him curb to curb. Well intentioned and precautionary, at some point their close proximity can also become a social barrier to independence. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rather than the short bus this year, Reid arrives to high school by Prius in the drop-off circle. This creates a new context of typical peers rather than a throng of severely handicapped individuals with mostly 1:1 aides. It's a healthy stretch. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His words through the car window glass are relish to me. I could make a meal of them. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Turning back like a film director, "Mom. You go now. See you back here at 2:00. Love." The hand gesture and head nod are teenage.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That piquant something extra he has over his typical peers is the distance he's traveled to get to this point. How far he's come from sitting at a toddler table and chair doing discrete trial with countless therapists to learn the meaning of "yes" and "no" as language constructs. (Picture laminated PECS cards of family members and facial expressions.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And at the end of the day, he comes bounding down the slope full throttle his feet getting ahead of his body. Seeing me he shouts gleefully "Mommyyyyy!" I wouldn't dare correct him or explain it's not age appropriate. It tastes too sweet after the years of effort invested in forging attachment, engaging with eye contact, and expressing feelings. At this point, let the typical peers learn from him.</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">God</span> can’t stand deceivers, but oh how he relishes integrity. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+11:19-21&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Proverbs 11:19-21</a> </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then I’ll tell the world what I find, speak out boldly in public, unembarrassed. I cherish your commandments—oh, how I love them!--relishing every fragment of your counsel. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+119:40-42&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Psalm 119:40-42</a> </span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Oh, they’re so glad in your presence! Festival joy! The joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+9:1-3&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Isaiah 9:1-3</a> </span></i></span><br />
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Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-26415078468056942132013-06-26T10:42:00.002-07:002013-06-26T12:09:56.167-07:00He's a Cheap DateMy first giveaway. Could you use a $25 Visa gift card? Just leave a comment to this post and I will announce a winner next week. No strings attached.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This giveaway is sponsored by the <a href="http://CARD.com/" target="_blank">CARD.com</a>. They have several <a href="https://www.card.com/gallery?tag=autism&afid=154" target="_blank">autism awareness designs</a> available and wanted you to know about them. Yours, should you win, will come with the $25 gift and you can reload it then as needed.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of Reid's current IEP goals has to do with spending money in the community. Or as some call it: shopping. He can go pretty far on $25. I keep his debit card pre-loaded with that safe amount and it lasts for weeks. As he ventures out with his classmates to the shopping center near the high school, he might spend $4.51 at Rubios or $1 on a Sprite or maybe more if I give him my short grocery list.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reid is a cheap date. He isn't addicted to Starbucks. He doesn't shop for the latest fashions. He prefers a VHS tape for 50 cents to a DVD. He doesn't go for pizza and a luxury theater with friends on weekends; he's content with YouTube. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So when he asks for a box of 12 Ticonderoga pencils at Staples or a bear claw at Panera it is easy to say yes. Likewise, at Disneyland last week when he asked for this oversized lollipop, I said yes. I had already stipulated we would not buy a DVD souvenir this time. Not one for extraneous spending myself, I can go a whole day without so much as a water bottle. Saving myself for a better deal outside the park, I try to pass along my frugality without starving or dehydrating the poor kid. He did well searching for water fountains, "just browsing" at the gift shops, and skipping the sub-par Mexican options.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He gets more mileage out of a $5 lollipop than any kid I know. It was so worth it. Thanks to "beautiful Molly" for capturing 23 seconds of our gleeful day on tape!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0zWM4kO1OKE" width="420"></iframe></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How would you spend your $25? Tell me in a comment. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks for entering the giveaway;)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Until now you have asked for nothing in My name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be made full. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">John 16:23-25</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>My son, eat honey, for it is good, Yes, the honey from the comb is sweet to your taste; </i></span></div>
<span class="keywordresultextras"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+24:12-14&version=NASB" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Proverbs 24:12-14</i></span></a></span>Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-9918899730242547502013-06-21T15:18:00.001-07:002013-06-21T16:29:59.624-07:00Rhythm<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2013/06/five-minute-friday-rhythm/" target="_blank">Five Minute Friday</a>: want to play?<br />
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Go.<br />
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I love the snapping. I love the dynamics. I love the hum. I love the rhythm. He keeps time, sets the tempo, grabs the crowd. But woe to those who snap along past the first introduction. Rules are rules.<br />
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He told me in the car on the way...Frank will play two introductions but I only snap on the first introduction.<br />
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What I notice is how the rocking, twisting, and alternate "standing like a tree" are his effective way of keeping the rhythm. Like a jazz player tapping his foot to keep the beat, he's just got the whole body keeping time as a foundation for the lyrics. It's the physicality that makes Dick Van Dyke funny. We just need to add choreography.<br />
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Watching this video of Reid's recital performance last night gives me as much joy a watching Gene Kelly in "An American in Paris" singing the "Igot...." song with those French youngsters and their aeroplane arms in charade imitation acting out his language lesson. I got rhythm. They got rhythm. Reid got rhythm. Who could ask for anything more...???<br />
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See for yourself:<br />
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-84183546461321766372013-06-19T11:14:00.000-07:002013-06-19T18:32:51.634-07:00Favorite Movie All Time?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8itux-nS5GymGD6H9r-v9BOXv6EoX0i2v5rpNroTw1es5rU17IevYUs7yqselNce2k9RIkfZy8pMkx_wLAdcwd7h5fvT0RnDm__EUIjWOu7eUyFHjk9P4kKhxy-HeOBCIHFBoC4IPMYyX/s1600/favorite-movies.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/AVvXsEj8itux-nS5GymGD6H9r-v9BOXv6EoX0i2v5rpNroTw1es5rU17IevYUs7yqselNce2k9RIkfZy8pMkx_wLAdcwd7h5fvT0RnDm__EUIjWOu7eUyFHjk9P4kKhxy-HeOBCIHFBoC4IPMYyX/s320/favorite-movies.jpg" width="240" /></a>Reid has an effective conversation starter. Whether in the hot tub at our neighborhood pool, on the church patio, or a line at the bank, it works like a charm to engage friends, strangers and countrymen.<br />
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"What is your favorite movie of all time?" he inquires with characteristic enthusiasm.<br />
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Some struggle with the superlative, but everyone seems able to spout off at least a multiple choice of three or so. Then there is common ground. Reid walks away with something new to search for at the thrift store, his horizons stretched. His conversational counterpart pleased by the meaningful exchange.<br />
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Embracing the movie obsession as I write my book, The Poppins Revelation, I've compiled a Top 10 Movies of All Time list for each member of our family. It can be telling. What are yours? Can you accurately name those of your spouse? Of your kids? Endless dinner conversation ensues...(and fodder for future Friday movie nights)<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mom's</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089504/" target="_blank">Lost in America</a>, Albert Brooks</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. <a href="http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/julieandjulia/" target="_blank">Julie & Julia</a>, Amy Adams</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/KateandLeopoldMovie?fref=ts" target="_blank">Kate & Leopold</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0044685/" target="_blank">Hans Christian Anderson</a>, Danny Kaye</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0045152/" target="_blank">Singin' in the Rain</a>, Gene Kelly</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-me-lopez-skidrow-nathaniel-series,0,290300.special" target="_blank">The Soloist</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. <a href="http://youvegotmail.warnerbros.com/" target="_blank">You've Got Mail</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0762121/" target="_blank">The Nativity</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0309530/" target="_blank">Down with Love</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058331/" target="_blank">Mary Poppins</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dad's</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088846/" target="_blank">Brazil</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. <a href="http://www.woodshed.com/film-catalog/the-seedling" target="_blank">The Seedling</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. <a href="http://www.trimyourlifeaway.com/home/sprout/index.html" target="_blank">Sprout</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1194173/" target="_blank">Bourne</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. <a href="http://www.ipman2movie-us.com/" target="_blank">Ip Man 2</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089881/" target="_blank"> Ran</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. <a href="http://www.everywoodyallenmovie.com/post/annie-hall/" target="_blank">Annie Hall</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062622/" target="_blank">2001 Space Odyssey</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0041090/" target="_blank">Adam's Rib</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. <a href="http://www.brucebrownfilms.com/" target="_blank">Endless Summer</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reid's</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Mary Poppins</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Swiss Family Robinson</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Singin' in the Rain</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Melody Time</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. Peter Pan</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. Old Yeller</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. Mulan</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. American in Paris</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. The Jungle Book</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Allie's</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. National Velvet</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Count of Monte Cristo</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Swiss Family Robinson</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Bourne Supremacy</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Shawshank Redemption</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. The Notebook</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. Gladiator</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. A Walk to Remember</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. Sleepless in Seattle</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. Inception</span><br />
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3588003195391474887.post-84779100312364720342013-06-17T11:47:00.000-07:002013-06-17T22:35:08.653-07:00Musical Influences<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-yQK3fRs67D-6auIZA7ZL5Twg0nF1pKf53uz0uHpiKHC3fmDs_J1HxR8udC-iqIKDc5doXpeb2QMzZZoiOBmRpAHccmnpIuH2ywpmPqnx1YLQb6qws3N0EISVpmnuxL3Tk2JlSZpZGZt/s1600/IMG_9301.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/AVvXsEgA-yQK3fRs67D-6auIZA7ZL5Twg0nF1pKf53uz0uHpiKHC3fmDs_J1HxR8udC-iqIKDc5doXpeb2QMzZZoiOBmRpAHccmnpIuH2ywpmPqnx1YLQb6qws3N0EISVpmnuxL3Tk2JlSZpZGZt/s320/IMG_9301.jpg" width="239" /></a>What draws you back to the same restaurant over and over? Food might be the obvious answer. But ambiance and service weigh in heavily.<br />
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A couple of years ago, we happened upon <a href="http://autismunplugged.blogspot.com/2013/02/king-of-one-liners.html" target="_blank">The King's Highway</a> within the Ace Hotel, Palm Springs. <br />
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Better than a sports bar with umpteen sets hanging from the ceiling, King's Highway has Linda. She is the entertainment. She rings her bell and like a female Dean Martin croons her way tableside with such confident panache that all are mesmerized. Our first time we could only observe.<br />
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The next time for Allie and Reid's 16th birthday, she sang directly to them. Allie wished she could've crawled under a carpet at the time, but I think she enjoys the memory of it.<br />
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What song, you ask? Her go-to birthday serenade began, "It had to be you........Allie and Reid...It had to be you......" Linda is a versatile vocalist and personable too.<br />
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The whole place just works for us. There's a pool, mixed ages, gourmet food, hip design, something for everyone --just like the movies <i>Singin' in the Rain</i> or <i>Swiss Family Robinson</i> offer romance, action, and song.<br />
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So last January break, Allie suggested we take a couple nights and go there. It was wonderful. Nothing like a roadtrip to rekindle sibling bonding. We hiked Joshua Tree one day then enjoyed all the amenities of the Ace. Jim takes pictures profusely. Who knew how much "thrifting" Palm Springs offered--the new activity of choice for Reid whereby we rid the universe of old VHS technology by buying them up at a quarter a piece, viewing and dismantling the tape inside, rendering them finally and totally defunct.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzs-wTgy1g7loKP9hXVHDAiV2yCxCU-1-iZ8IK-PJGwvF_IKKwjB90MP1c9JTgsvl5Rl5p8UdqE7pyMi6P7XfLolSHwA_4IYa3Btqk6JKA5I6KItZhvvkNoZvwI3lSugZr2sSKJiL0NtuO/s1600/IMG_7135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzs-wTgy1g7loKP9hXVHDAiV2yCxCU-1-iZ8IK-PJGwvF_IKKwjB90MP1c9JTgsvl5Rl5p8UdqE7pyMi6P7XfLolSHwA_4IYa3Btqk6JKA5I6KItZhvvkNoZvwI3lSugZr2sSKJiL0NtuO/s320/IMG_7135.JPG" width="320" /></a>But Saturday night ohhh Sturday night, we arrived early for dinner hoping Linda was on. And she was. Whether she remembered us was unclear. But give us a show she did nonetheless. In rapt conversation with Reid, she asked if she could try a new one on us, "Rockabye my Dixie Baby...would that be okay?" <br />
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"Sure, that's the one!" said Reid rubbing his hands together in frenetic glee.<br />
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We ordered. Took a sip of our drinks. Then a bell rang vigorously cueing the soundtrack to pause. Linda slinked over to our table. The woman is bold....and my smooth, supremely stealth husband got it discretely on film.<br />
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So to the musical influences on <a href="http://www.cdbaby.com/artist/ReidMoriarty" target="_blank">Reid's Cdbaby site</a>--Jason Mraz, Jack Johnson, and Scotty McCreery--we add Fabulous Linda! She may not be on 94.1's radio rotation. She won't be in next season's Idol competition. Yet, she's an unmistakable household word at our table.<br />
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Linda Gerard is an influential lady. She sings it like she means it. She has confidence. She is relational. She has pipes! Reid's even taken to wearing shades like hers.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The mark of a good leader is loyal followers; leadership is nothing without a following. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+14:27-29&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Proverbs 14:27-29</a> </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Friends, let me give you an example from everyday affairs of the free life I am talking about. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Galatians+3:14-16&version=MSG" style="text-decoration: none;">Galatians 3:14-16</a> </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">I scrub my hands with purest soap, then join hands with the others in the great circle, dancing around your altar, </span><span class="small-caps" style="color: #38761d; font-variant: small-caps;">God</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">, Singing God-songs at the top of my lungs, telling God-stories. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Psalm 26:5-7</span></i></span></div>
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<br />Andreahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05189479819727862187noreply@blogger.com0