tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75469396578240594012024-02-07T01:24:30.468-04:00Red LettersThoughts from a stranger following the path of red letters. (Hebrews 11)Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.comBlogger453125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-53447403047923831432020-12-21T16:15:00.001-04:002020-12-21T16:15:05.617-04:00Join me at Rise Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://lindseygallant.com" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1260" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNCb96wdlQ8KLJ0fFLw2z6aiyH8jgGnfvoOKeZAFGfuRrCeS7mgyUVAzfh33j026M0eASDqigBkc0FrEo70G5LJWA5mZ2O3IYTBQyflZ5aOnQ5-98rSVwKl0zfFsi6OKv6YZhUXvctag/w640-h178/Rise+Heart+Blog+Banner+4-2.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>If you've stumbled upon this out-of-date version of my blog, hello! You can find me writing now over at <a href="http://lindseygallant.com">lindseygallant.com</a>. I would love to see you there. </p><p><br /></p><p>~ Lindsey</p>Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-16097998820417850142016-11-17T20:27:00.000-04:002016-11-17T20:27:34.211-04:00Journey to the Heart of Christmas with Abraham's Advent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Lora, serif; font-size: medium;">Did you hear? My blog has officially moved to Wordpress! You will still find me at theredlettersblog.com</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Lora, serif; font-size: medium;">, but this blogspot site will no longer be updated. I started this blog waaaay back in 2007. It's lived through a lot of life with me. I hope you've found glimpses of God and some good news here. I will keep writing and sharing, so please come and join me at the updated <a href="http://theredlettersblog.com/" target="_blank">Red Letters</a>! When you get there, make sure to subscribe, so you won't miss a thing. </span></b></div>
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It’s only the middle of November, but the journey to Christmas is already well underway. Is it just me, or have things gotten a little louder, a little faster, and a little crazier?</div>
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Are you feeling the pressure to create the “perfect Christmas?” Wondering how you ended up with a to-do list longer than Santa’s? Hoping to make everyone’s Christmas morning dreams come true?</div>
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And what about your own hopes? When you step back from the frenzy of parties and preparation, do you dare acknowledge the longings that lay just below the glittery surface of things?</div>
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It’s easy to get caught up in the trimmings. But what about the heart of Christmas? What about <i>your heart</i>?</div>
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There is a way to step back from the crazy. To <a href="http://theredlettersblog.com/2015/11/23/how-to-really-focus-this-advent/" style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: objects; -webkit-transition: background-color 0.2s ease-in-out, border-color 0.2s ease-in-out, color 0.2s ease-in-out, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out; color: #a62425; transition: background-color 0.2s ease-in-out, border-color 0.2s ease-in-out, color 0.2s ease-in-out, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out;">refocus on what’s really important</a>. To get to the heart of things.</div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700;">It’s called Advent. </span></div>
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<a href="http://theredlettersblog.com/2016/11/16/a-journey-to-the-heart-of-christmas/" target="_blank">Continue reading over at the new Red Letters website!</a></div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-45047882255450319942016-10-25T15:12:00.000-03:002016-10-25T15:12:55.826-03:00mother's prayer :: holiness for them<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Can you take this mother-wretch and make me holy?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not for my sake, but for theirs?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can live with my ugliness, but they do not deserve to. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Take the bitter, the sharp, the crushing, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and make me sweet, smooth, uplifting. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There must be grace for this,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">grace greater than the gaping hole of my failures.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There must be holiness for this,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">holiness purer than my puffed-up self and gnashing flesh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Holiness for them.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not for me to spit and polish and show off - </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But for their beauty. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Only your spit and mud salve can make me see, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">make me clean, make me a fitting funnel for your kindness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh Lord, you who wash our feet,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">let me stoop with you awhile. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me not lord over them with my airs,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but serve them with your graces.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even now you pour the water on my cracks and callouses,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">reminding me where the power of authority begins. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I will lay aside the garment of my false entitlement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Toe by toe, you make what I have trampled into holy ground. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hear the heart’s cry - <i>Not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I am at the end of myself, you can begin, even again. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me love them to your ends. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>S.D.G.</i></span></span></div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-83581659832337228562016-10-16T10:14:00.001-03:002016-10-16T10:14:48.615-03:00noon prayer :: autumn bountyChrist, our God, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise:<br />
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For the small, warm hollow of my baby's neck<br />
For hot pink beets dug fresh from the cool earth<br />
For a living blaze of orange in the farmer's field<br />
For spiced tea and flavourful conversation<br />
For flannel sheets flying high on the line<br />
For the scent of the forest floor as children crush leaves underfoot<br />
For neighbours' fires rising like incense in the dawn<br />
For the table, hand-hewn strong, to carry these armfuls of thanks<br />
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~lg<br />
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<i>S.D.G.</i></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-68912686810071338682016-10-12T06:30:00.000-03:002016-10-12T06:30:16.912-03:00A Renewed Prayer Habit: Gathering Treasures at Noon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's no coincidence that this time of year turns my thoughts to thankfulness. It is well known that a habit of gratefulness has many benefits. This time of year we are also still working to get our new routine into place, finding our rhythm in this particular season of life.<br />
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I thought it would be a good time to become a little more intentional with another habit of prayer - <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/search/label/noon%20prayer" target="_blank">noon thanksgiving</a>. (To read more about habits of prayer, <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/2015/03/a-pattern-of-prayer-finding-groove.html" target="_blank">click here</a>.)<br />
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For me, thanksgiving is a fitting way to mark this "hour" of prayer. Here's why:<br />
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1. Noon is usually busy! We are finishing up our morning activities and moving into lunch preparation. I'm usually in the kitchen, often multitasking. But offering a few words of thanks to God does not actually take that much "extra time." It's something that can be woven into whatever I'm doing. (This is an example of how we can <a href="http://www.formission.org/time-god-time-god/" target="_blank">practice the presence of God.</a>)<br />
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2. Noon is usually visible. 12:00 is easy to spot on the clock. Everyone sees the hands pointing up and they get hungry. It's a good trigger to pause. It's a good reminder to lift my thanks up. It's also tied to the eating of lunch, and one of the best ways to get a new habit going is to piggyback it onto a well established habit. (I won't be forgetting to eat lunch anytime soon, trust me. I'm a hobbit at heart.)<br />
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3. Noon can be a little stressful. By this point, enough things can have gone wrong to start to sour the day. But a little thanksgiving can rescue it. Gratitude fills my thoughts with the good, the true, and the beautiful. Gratitude can change perspective, and that can change my attitude (coincidently, the only one I can control).<br />
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And so it seems a fitting time to give my thanks and praise.<br />
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A fitting time to gather the little treasures of the day and turn them over in my hand.<br />
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A fitting time to take note, to take joy, to take part in all the goodness the Father lavishes on us.<br />
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A fitting time to look up and simply say, "Thank you."<br />
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~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-68493344327961854262016-10-10T10:04:00.000-03:002016-10-10T10:04:02.170-03:00The Deepest Secret of Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bread is warm, and the coffee is fresh, and morning prayer is sung by a cooing six-month old. Outside the rain is pounding and drumming, but inside we are snug and safe. What more could I ask for? I have been given this, and so much more. At times I wonder why - why me? Why so much? The baby smiles at Daddy, and I think my heart just burst for joy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have not always felt the joy. There have been seasons where the discouragements loomed large and shut out the light. There have been days when all I have been given has been a burden I nearly collapsed under. There have been times when joy was hard won moment-by-moment. I do not take it for granted. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet, here it is. I have chased it down only to find it handed over as pure gift. I have felt its call from the far country, and sold everything to dig for the pearl of great price. I have known it as the tender unfurling of a fruit blossom, fragile and quiet, and I have known it as a great thrumming song of victory wild. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have learned I cannot create it. I cannot conjure it up. Its essence is otherworldly, yet it takes on form in such ordinary pleasures. It is embodied by what I can sense, but it is not limited by circumstances. It is one part of the Spirit-life that grows only when the seed of all I am falls into the ground and dies, hidden, waiting, waiting for resurrection. And yet I can, and must, cultivate it. I must tear away the vines that choke, grasping the thick trunk of mistrust to pull it up by its root. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is not sadness which is joy’s great enemy. It is lack of trust. Sadness is a rain that can water the ground and make it soft, make joy bloom all the sweeter for its flood. But disbelief is true lack - lack of water, lack of light, lack of compost. Disbelief is drought. Disbelief is darkness. Disbelief takes the discarded scraps of life and holds them bitter tight, squeezes them into a putrid slime that is death to the struggling seedling. But trust - ah, here I am only beginning to learn - trust takes the fallen leaves and embraces the decay of my frailty, entrusting them to the earth’s slow renewal. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trust is surrender, and surrender is the beginning of birth. Surrender is the beginning of beauty, even in what’s broken. Surrender is the beginning of joy. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The baby laughs, and I hear the voice of my Father in her. Even her cry is His benediction, as I embrace the life He has given me and seek Him in her eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, joy is my companion by the fireside. And perhaps tomorrow I may have to go out into the storm to follow its call. But I am learning to trust. Learning to take joy even when the winds are howling. There is a path of life wherever God is present. The deepest secret of joy is its Source, and He says, “Lo, I am with you always.”</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>S.D.G.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-33833606584005152222016-09-25T21:14:00.001-03:002016-09-25T21:14:07.745-03:00EquinoxLittle One,<br />
<br />
Here we are on the first day of autumn, nearing your six month mark. You were my spring equinox, ushering in the greening of my soul and the budding of my limbs. The wind howled and the rain froze, but you and I had our vernal nest, warm with the newness of our shared birth story.<br />
<br />
And then we grew into summer, into daisies, and geraniums red as any beating heart. We felt the sand and tasted the strange salty sea, and you were wide-eyed in the sun.<br />
<br />
You have grown through these two seasons, and now with the turning of the leaves there is eagerness in your eyes and determination in your grasp. You would gobble the whole world up if you could, but I hold you firm and say, <i>wait, wait, not just yet. </i>The ducklings are not yet ready to fly south, and there is still light for our morning cuddles.<br />
<br />
Oh baby girl, still so small, I cannot keep you from everything that is to be. <i>Stay close, stay close</i> - the frost will come, but then we will light the pumpkin lanterns, and I will give you the moon for your plaything.<br />
<br />
<br />
~lg<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>S.D.G.</i></div>
<br />
<br />Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-26983113090712789922016-09-02T08:32:00.000-03:002016-09-02T08:39:25.093-03:00Things I Cannot Schedule (an incomplete list):<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Projectile vomit</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The ideal laundry-on-the-line day</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An invasion of slugs</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A second cup of coffee</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Creating the perfect funnel for a plasticine train</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Noticing orange on a caterpillar</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Baby kisses</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The thought that went down a rabbit trail</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pillow fights</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One more chapter</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Last one</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ok, just <i>one</i> more</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cuddling away thunder</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">A headache</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Breathing in the after-storm breeze</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-45407228485857945382016-08-31T09:51:00.000-03:002016-08-31T09:54:04.754-03:00Morning contemplationWhen you are lying against me,<br />
satisfied and still,<br />
save for the swelling of your breath,<br />
nothing else in all the world matters.<br />
Not my scribbled lists and leftover tasks,<br />
nor the disorder in my thoughts.<br />
<br />
Only your perfect form,<br />
smooth, warm,<br />
the faithfulness of your pulse,<br />
this hushed and holy joy.<br />
<br />
Here is an oasis of being,<br />
a Sabbath amidst the striving.<br />
Here is a haven of rest,<br />
you and I,<br />
unmediated.<br />
Understood by kindred cells -<br />
real presence.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-17892116849147279392016-08-17T22:22:00.000-03:002016-08-18T08:59:04.885-03:00Washing Out<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Tonight I'm feeling the sadness of grieving friends and loved ones. This song formed in my head as I was driving home in the rain. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Washing Out</b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn’t know what it would feel like</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To say your name after we said goodbye</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And for the first time the sun forgot to rise</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I look up to heaven trying to catch your eye</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the rain falls steady on the trampled ground</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And my heart is heavy cause you’re not around</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the river’s rising but the water’s brown</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cause the road we travelled on</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is washing out</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I couldn’t know what it would feel like</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To walk down to the riverside</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I wanna reach you but these wings can’t fly</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m on my knees and the tide is high</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the rain falls steady on the trampled ground</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And my heart is heavy cause you’re not around</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the river’s rising but the water’s brown</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cause the road we travelled on</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is washing out</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I wanna know what it will feel like </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When the earth smells sweet after the storm blows by </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When the rain that’s falling doesn’t make me cry</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the grass grows green by the riverside</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-22748486608235842062016-08-11T09:46:00.002-03:002016-08-11T09:46:57.155-03:00These summer days<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How can so much living be stuffed into the days of summer? I am a suitcase bursting at the seams, a well overflowing, a garden escaping the chicken wire bounds. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have sat on the front porch with nineteen family members (so far), and walked the red beaches and rocked in the blue harbour. I have said my ethereal farewells to the cat that never made it home, and deloused 1.4 pounds of a fresh barn kitten. I have seen the glorious sunset spilling from the heavens over the north shore cliffs and lighting my daughter’s eyes with its secrets. We’ve danced to fiddles in the rain, and filled the house with music, and feasted on the fruits of our little land. We’ve dedicated a baby to God, and sung loudly of His faithfulness, and delighted in her perfect smiles. I have seen the fishing boats go out to meet the sun at its earliest rising and rowed under the village bridge with homemade oars. I have listened to the tales that only grandparents can tell, and embraced four generations of familial love, and received the prayer of my father’s father over my children and household. I have slept in a tent and under the thunder-drummed roof and next to a baby’s snores, and some days have woken to tired bones and headaches, but the eastern light makes shadows of the leaves on the bedroom wall and I remember to be grateful. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">This morning I hear the wind chimes singing the song of the rain to come. It’s a morning for cuddles and another cup of coffee and feeling a bit sad at the emptiness of the house. But here is still fullness of grace. Blessing upon blessing, that’s what these summer days are. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-77020125598143739022016-07-16T14:31:00.000-03:002016-07-16T14:31:47.781-03:00Summer and the Givenness of Grace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVeHL6Aa29qimLQX9vuHUt3TWUNHL9o5t1IC5ZrpTS3aYLaehbjKElSbK853knQDo5PGyUPEnHoilpq5ernNjRXrNnpT8HfhWNX1p_siK6NP66ABrS_YwrD_ltMQjv78lU3RIElH3EmU/s1600/20160713_193010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVeHL6Aa29qimLQX9vuHUt3TWUNHL9o5t1IC5ZrpTS3aYLaehbjKElSbK853knQDo5PGyUPEnHoilpq5ernNjRXrNnpT8HfhWNX1p_siK6NP66ABrS_YwrD_ltMQjv78lU3RIElH3EmU/s640/20160713_193010.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">It’s been internet ages (aka almost three weeks) since I’ve posted anything! What ever happened to the end of June? What happened to my month of prayer?</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, summer happened, that’s what! We’ve been camping, beaching, gardening, and partying. We’ve had a couple rounds of family visiting from away. We’re going to Fiddle Fest! Summer has its own rhythm. Some days it feels like swinging between crazy-busy and hazy-lazy. It’s not a bad thing at all, just different. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The prayer journey is ongoing. I’ve been reading several books that have been expanding my ideas of prayer in indirect ways. I’ve been mulling. Meditating. <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/search/label/morning%20prayer" target="_blank">Morning prayer </a>really is the one practice that gets the day going on the right track. Some of my other prayer time “anchors” have become unmoored with our different routine. But I’m trying not to “get my shorts in a knot” (as my mother used to say!) about it. I know that when summer is over, we’ll all settle back into more predictable days. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the meantime, God is still there. And we’re still talking. It’s not about becoming a slave to particular prayer practices. Those practices are tools. Those practices are tracks to my desired destination, but they are no substitute for the welcome upon arrival. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This thought by <a href="http://amongstlovelythings.com/" target="_blank">Sarah Mackenzie</a> has been keeping my company the last week or so. It’s from her great little book <i><a href="http://amongstlovelythings.com/rest" target="_blank">Teaching From Rest</a></i>. In it, she talks about the seeming impossibility of our task as mothers. To a certain extent, our inadequacy is a given. Our own resources are never enough. She writes,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I don’t really have any idea how I’m supposed to tackle everything ahead of me in this day, this year, this decade when that’s all I’ve got. It’s just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Apparently, that’s all He needs.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are weary because we forget about grace. We act as though God’s showing up is the miracle. But guess what? <b>God’s showing up is the given. Grace is a fact.</b>” (pg. 15, emphasis mine)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ah. I’ve been letting that sink in a bit. It might be easy to think that all my good habits and discipline are getting me closer to God. And it may be true, in part. Those are all ways that I respond to His call to “draw near.” They are for my benefit. But beneath and above and around it all is the reality - He is there. I don’t have to conjure Him up. His presence is the given. “Grace is a fact.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I could beat myself up over the fact that I didn’t have a regular devotional time at all this past week. Or I could be thankful about that book I read on the way to the beach that caused me to wonder about God in a different way. I could recognize the love of God in the faces of family members we don’t get to see very often. I could marvel at how one passage of Philippians that I read two weeks ago is still giving me something to chew over. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s <i>so much grace</i> all around me. So much God. He is never far, even on the days I forget to pray. I can relax a little, knowing that my inadequacy is a given. But so is grace, and because of that, I can rejoice a whole lot. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-10793529298382425832016-06-28T09:57:00.000-03:002016-07-16T14:15:25.870-03:00When You Need to Push Pause on Life<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">There are days I seem to be living life in fast forward. It can wear me out and chew me up. Voices garble, movement is jerky, and in the frenzied passing of scene after scene, I may have lost the plot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I need a pause button.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I need a way to stop the madness, be still. I need a way to refocus. I need some quiet. I need to breathe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I need to pray.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Prayer is the pause button for all the crazy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Prayer changes the channel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Prayer connects me to a source that gives, rather than drains. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This pause puts the day in perspective. God gives me His eyes to see the details that matter. His voice is made clear over the constant chatter, and it is music to my ears. He reminds me of my place in the story. He gives me peace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And when I push play again, the pace somehow evens out. Life is not flashing before my eyes, and I am no longer the helpless spectator. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Prayer is the pause that invites God to enter the scene.</b> It is the space for Him to jump back in, so we can walk together, work together, <i>play </i>together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">~lg</span></div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-1539677607742349442016-06-23T09:07:00.000-03:002016-06-23T09:07:06.874-03:00The beauty of the earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgPbFGhdIOS5bAP2rRwXKXCeE3kTmFcRbIWQFfdlUvyzr2bDtpAOnrtVvz7_3t35qVSTBKUXY9AQvdDKROiaH6Chv9zn6XW0kBsq3tuGHFX9SuHGhjSjEhZlqIXqV3nTY-RNvWKQtvxY/s1600/13234586_10156839023805580_452363004_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgPbFGhdIOS5bAP2rRwXKXCeE3kTmFcRbIWQFfdlUvyzr2bDtpAOnrtVvz7_3t35qVSTBKUXY9AQvdDKROiaH6Chv9zn6XW0kBsq3tuGHFX9SuHGhjSjEhZlqIXqV3nTY-RNvWKQtvxY/s640/13234586_10156839023805580_452363004_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Ivy Joy. </i></div>
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You are the thrush that sings in the morning, sweet with joy from the crown of the tree.<div>
You are the laurel about my head, victory green and new. </div>
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You are the sun, faithful to smile the day into being. </div>
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You are the brook as it laughs around the corner, kissing the rocks till they sparkle.</div>
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You are the wild rose, pink and smooth against my cheek, delicate fragrance in my breath.</div>
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You are the beauty of the earth,</div>
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the dew of youth from the womb of the morning,</div>
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the hymn I raise to kiss in praise.</div>
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<i>*photo credit: <a href="https://ourwabiworld.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Denise Bowman</a></i></div>
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~lg</div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-20146737252683409552016-06-18T09:02:00.000-03:002016-06-18T09:02:29.548-03:00Movements of Morning Prayer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlzOzbzeqcH-QRY_48c5Dr-lIWL1hSGWQxnvsRBxLcJyqIOt51h5lc81UTMjtCXKlX8OW5cSA5aaa1SVTrA9nd8QUwtDL-3m8sfDkGIF5skz4pUxQfqAPu2-8ysGM6eXCee8DmKt1cEk8/s1600/DSC_0940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlzOzbzeqcH-QRY_48c5Dr-lIWL1hSGWQxnvsRBxLcJyqIOt51h5lc81UTMjtCXKlX8OW5cSA5aaa1SVTrA9nd8QUwtDL-3m8sfDkGIF5skz4pUxQfqAPu2-8ysGM6eXCee8DmKt1cEk8/s640/DSC_0940.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s morning, and time for prayer. I uncurl, adjusting to the light. I lay flat, not really ready. I try to form thoughts, but they are slow and drowsy. My brain can’t focus. And so I pray with my body.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I stretch. <i>Awake.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Awake me to Your presence. Wake me to the shining light of Your smile. Awake me to Your truth, goodness, and beauty. Wake me to Your voice. Wake me to wonder, wake me to you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>As for me, I shall behold Your face in righteousness;</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I will be satisfied with Your likeness when I awake. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Psalm 17:15)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>He awakens me morning by morning,</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>He awakens my ear to listen as a disciple.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Isaiah 50:4)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The LORD’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>For His compassions never fail.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>They are new every morning;</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Great is Your faithfulness.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Lamentations 3:22-23)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I stretch upward. <i>Offer. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I offer all that I am for all that You are. Weary arms, feeble knees, wandering feet. Day breaks and I pour out this offering once more. As I raise my offering, raise me to life. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>which is your spiritual service of worship. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Romans 12:1)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And you shall love the LORD Your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>and with all your mind, and with all your strength. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Mark 12:30)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I stretch outward. <i>Align.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Align me with Your plans and purposes for this day, and these people. Align my energies with yours so that I will not grow weary in doing good. Align me with Your heart. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Thy kingdom come.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Thy will be done,</i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>On earth as it is in heaven. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Matthew 6:10)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Ephesians 2:10)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>For it is God who is at work in you, </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>both to will and to work for His good pleasure.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(Philippians 2:13)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">I stretch. </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">In You I live and move and have my being. </i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">In all that I do, let me move toward You. Ready for this day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><b>Awake ~ Offer ~ Align</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></span></div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-20637082036800242252016-06-15T07:59:00.001-03:002016-06-15T07:59:06.699-03:00Cultivating a Life of Order and WonderToday I'm sharing over at <a href="http://theycallmeblessed.org/" target="_blank">They Call Me Blessed</a> as part of the <a href="http://www.theycallmeblessed.org/category/homeschooling/30-ways-we-homeschool/" target="_blank">30 Ways We Homeschool</a> Blog Party!<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE_Yy5D_tG5YN6r8kCjkmt09sIcZlu-ZwdrtnTpb5aGwfzA3RfAQerQQVsx7XnENhnbal17zTR2s4nLNJ-a4TybgL0EPPSYj1_tQpC_lazqR5IaBNEh4z6f4NMU7WJI7F_VdUVw5Xtq8/s1600/Cultivating-a-Life-of-Order-and-Wonder-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE_Yy5D_tG5YN6r8kCjkmt09sIcZlu-ZwdrtnTpb5aGwfzA3RfAQerQQVsx7XnENhnbal17zTR2s4nLNJ-a4TybgL0EPPSYj1_tQpC_lazqR5IaBNEh4z6f4NMU7WJI7F_VdUVw5Xtq8/s640/Cultivating-a-Life-of-Order-and-Wonder-3.png" width="426" /></a></div>
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Click for a peek into our approach to home education: <a href="http://www.theycallmeblessed.org/cultivating-life-order-and-wonder/" target="_blank">Cultivating a Life of Order and Wonder</a>.</div>
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~lg</div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-84872303783077988682016-06-13T22:44:00.002-03:002016-06-13T22:47:52.547-03:00Day 13: Pinholes of Prayer<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Some days my own small-mindedness and selfishness forms a crust over my spirit. I’m stewing on the inside, hardening on the outside. I lose the ability to be flexible, to be gracious, and the smallest prick can set off an explosion.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">But when I puncture my day with prayer, here a little, there a little, I become permeable. I am soft to the Spirit, and slower to anger. God breathes through these pinholes of prayer and my soul expands in His presence. The light dances in and I can see beyond myself. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">~lg</span></div>
Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-27244923470310103652016-06-11T21:53:00.000-03:002016-06-11T21:53:17.387-03:00Day 11: Prayer in the Onion PatchIt's been a quiet week. I'm slowly feeling my way back into things.<br />
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I find it easier to pray when I'm moving or working. I was thinking that today, while planting onions. Planting onions, washing dishes, watering flowers, pacing with the baby, digging weeds, walking by the river. Maybe it's like kids playing with lego while they're listening to a book being read aloud. With their hands busy, their minds can focus better.<br />
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I pray better in the morning if my body has had a chance to wake up, to move around, to get the blood flowing. My physicality can bolster this ethereal task of prayer.<br />
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I also find it helpful to engage more of my body in prayer. To lift my hands in a prayer of surrender. To kneel in petition. To dance in praise. To reach, to move toward something. To somehow mirror with my body what is happening in my spirit.<br />
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I wonder if we can be too immaterial when it comes to prayer sometimes. We are physical beings as well as spiritual. I think God wants to engage us as whole persons. His Spirit is capable of that. From the beginning we had bodies in which to walk and talk with Him. And in the end, we will know the glory of resurrected bodies. And we will see Him who <i>even now</i> has an actual body, for the Incarnation was no temporary experiment. Our bodies matter.<br />
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And so I find myself, spirit, mind and <i>body</i>, reaching toward encounter with Christ. Oftentimes, the more of me that prays, the richer the connection. In some ways, prayer <i>is </i>movement. The movement of spirit to Spirit, but also, in a very real way, of body to Body. (And of course, the movement flows both ways.)<br />
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My fingers in the soil, they are touching earth that has been hallowed by His footsteps. My knees in the dirt, they bow in faith to the seed that will be raised incorruptible. Dig, plant, pat, repeat. Water, watch, hope. Pray.<br />
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~lg<br />
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<br />Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-50965974831448243842016-06-06T23:08:00.000-03:002016-06-06T23:08:00.111-03:00Day 6: Morning ClarityThis morning, instead of going online first thing, I went to the Psalms. I was still groggy, still a little unfocused. But this is what happened.<br />
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When my six year old daughter padded into our room a few minutes later, my mind wasn't filled with Facebook images and updates, news and forecasts, things to catch up on, or the opinions and concerns of other people.<br />
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The room was quiet, <b>and my head was quiet.</b><br />
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So when I looked up from the printed poetry, I saw her face in all of its subtle, sleepy beauty. I set the book aside and pulled her in next to me and the dozy baby. I didn't feel interrupted. My connection with God moved naturally into a connection with my daughter. No screen between us, no web obscuring things. The room echoed with sacred words, and I found my own words calmer, and deeper.<br />
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<i>God's presence made me more present.</i><br />
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It's bedtime right now, and I honestly can't remember what I read this morning. But I remember my daughter's face and her Snoopy pyjamas and the clarity between us. The words became flesh, and that was a moment worth dwelling in.<br />
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~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-65367074319590483682016-06-04T08:00:00.000-03:002016-06-05T22:44:57.140-03:00Day 4: A Robin SingsIt's 4 AM. Dawn has begun its slow stretch toward the sun. Out the window, there is not yet colour, only the lifting of shadow.<br />
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<i>I think of You through the watches of the night.</i><br />
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A robin is singing. The horizon is not even perceptible, but this light is enough to waken her song. Her chimes are a gentle call to prayer. She doesn't need full daylight. Just the promise of what's to come.<br />
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<i>When I awake, I am still with you.</i><br />
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She sings, and I know I am not alone. I know there is beauty in the dim hours of morning. A quiet love rustles the trees and steals through the screen, breathing freshness over the bed.<br />
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I lie still, <i>and know that You are God</i>.<br />
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~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-27667931571222931202016-06-03T09:21:00.000-03:002016-06-03T09:22:33.774-03:00Confession: Fear and WeaknessFather,<br />
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Do you see me as a <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/2016/06/day-2-prayer-fail.html" target="_blank">failure</a>? Does your disappointment rise with the stacks of dirty dishes? Do you get fed up with my meltdowns?<br />
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I fear your retreat more than anything else.<br />
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Try harder, work smarter, let the baby scream, and <i>git 'er done.</i> Is this your voice? Where are you when I need you?<br />
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I don't know what happened, but I hit a wall. I'm gasping for breath and the tears squeeze out on my pillow at night, and maybe tomorrow will be better and I'll see you smile, but maybe it won't, and I dread your silent disapproval.<br />
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Tiptoe through the mess, scramble over the mistakes, there's no rug to sweep this under. Put on a brave face, and above all, <i>don't show weakness.</i><br />
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Do you understand. <i>Can </i>you understand? Do you want to? Or do I need my act together first?<br />
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The only thing worse than feeling weak is trying <i>not</i> to feel it.<br />
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I have heard you say, "My strength is made perfect in weakness." I have heard you say, "Love is patient, love is kind. Love keeps no record of wrongs."<br />
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Oh, give me ears to hear once more, and faith to believe.<br />
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If you really mean it, would you find your way over the mountain of my inadequacy, would you put your strong right arm around me and help me stand?<br />
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Do not despise my confession, or I will crumble. Will you love me in my weakness?<br />
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~lg<br />
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<br />Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-68398747192161740672016-06-02T22:31:00.001-03:002016-06-02T22:31:42.092-03:00Day 2: Prayer Fail! Today was a bust. I was going to pray. I was going to write about it. It was going to be (modestly) inspirational. It didn't happen.<br />
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Nope, not at all.<br />
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In the morning I was tired. I thought about praying, but decided to wait till I was more awake, and then I got busy.<br />
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In the middle of the morning, I was rushing around getting us all ready for a morning outing. We didn't sit down for a snack, so we forgot all about it.<br />
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At noon we were all hungry and cranky and the baby was crying.<br />
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Mid-afternoon the baby was crying.<br />
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My husband said grace at supper. Win!<br />
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The baby cried this evening too.<br />
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So here I am, past my bedtime, and I still haven't really prayed. I <i>thought</i> about it, but didn't actually do it. Does that count for anything? I suppose it's something that the spirit is willing. (The flesh, on the other hand, needs exercise. These darn habits can be so hard to get going!)<br />
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I'm trying to think of some fitting Bible verse to meditate on as I drift to sleep, but I think I left my Bible downstairs and I'm cozy in bed. I'm even too tired to google it. The only thing I can think of is this:<br />
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<i>Into Your hands I commit my spirit. </i><br />
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I'm not trying to be melodramatic, I'm just worn out, and I believe for tonight He will take me just as I am. Sleep is a gift and I will embrace it with thanksgiving and try again in the morning.<br />
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~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-46420890035778232592016-06-01T13:47:00.000-03:002016-06-05T22:45:07.548-03:00Off-Kilter: Praying My Way to Life ManagementTime has an odd quality to it these days. My newborn is now two months old, and though it seems she's been here forever, I can hardly believe how April and May have disappeared. With many things being new, and other things being busy, we haven't really settled into a routine yet, and I am feeling slightly off kilter. There doesn't seem to be enough time in the day for what needs to get done.<br />
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Many aspects of life need balancing, and I'm not sure how to go about time management. Then again, it's not just <i>time </i>management, it's physical bodies and actual spaces and a thousand tactile things, not to mention my own brain. I need life management!<br />
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Maybe there's a blog or a book or a planner or a magic schedule that could figure this all out for me, but the trouble is, those things aren't personally invested in my life. Helpful as they may be, they don't know the needs of our family, won't step in and finish the dishes, or soothe the baby, or read to my kids, or dry my tears of weary frustration.<br />
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So it's June 1st, and I would really like to feel less dizzy this month, but how?<br />
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I had an idea late last night. Now, it could be the smooshy wishful thinking of baby brain. Or it might just be a lightning bolt from heaven. We'll have to see. But this is what I thought as the baby finally settled into the bassinet:<br />
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<i>Maybe I can pray my way through this. </i><br />
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Yes, there is always the "Help me God!" cry that I know never goes unheard. But I've written before about a <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/2015/03/a-pattern-of-prayer-finding-groove.html" target="_blank">habit of prayer</a>, the kind of prayer that punctuates and permeates the whole day. Habit has the power to change things. And even more, God has the power to change <i>life</i>.<br />
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Sadly, but perhaps not surprisingly, many of my prayer habits have fallen by the wayside lately. I need to pick them back up. I'm not sure exactly how this will work with the flexibility that a young baby requires. But I'm going to put this thing to the test. Is a habit of daily prayer possible at this stage? And does it have the potential to bring order to my whole messy life?<br />
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What gives me hope is that I won't be entrusting my days to some nebulous idea of "time management." I'll be entrusting them to God himself. And I know he is definitely invested in my life. Ok, maybe he's not going to scrub the pots for me, but at least I can talk to him while I do it.<br />
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What if I counted my day by prayers instead of hours? What if I could find a greater rest beneath the busy moments? What if I could see the to-do list through His eyes? What if I prayed my way to life management?<br />
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I'm willing to try. And I'm hoping to write a bit about how it all goes here. We've all heard that prayer changes things, but maybe you're a mom with a new baby and scattered thoughts and laundry that is literally never done, and you're not sure. Or maybe you lead some other kind of busy or fragmented or stuffed-at-the-seams life, and you're not sure. Can it actually change the everyday? Can it bring order to chaos and meaning to mundane and space to breathe?<br />
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Let's try it.<br />
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~</div>
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<i>To read more about my journey of prayer, click <a href="http://redlettersblog.blogspot.ca/search/label/a%20life%20of%20prayer" target="_blank">here</a>. </i><br />
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~lg<br />
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<br />Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-11809897330053296242016-05-21T09:14:00.000-03:002016-05-21T09:14:36.735-03:00Gerard Manley Hopkins' "Spring"<div style="border: 0px; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring – </div>
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When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; </div>
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Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush </div>
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Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring </div>
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The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; </div>
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The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush </div>
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The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush </div>
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With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. </div>
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What is all this juice and all this joy? </div>
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A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning </div>
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In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy, </div>
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Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning, </div>
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Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy, </div>
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Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning. </div>
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Lindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546939657824059401.post-64440969218084732002016-05-10T08:11:00.000-03:002016-05-10T08:11:41.228-03:00We are a chestnutWe are a chestnut<br />
round, curled and smooth<br />
One life hidden<br />
One life warm from the womb<br />
Together the perfect shape of newness<br />
From here we will unfurl and branch into otherness<br />
But for now we are one<br />
The mystery of who we will be yet concealed<br />
in the folding of our limbs<br />
Our breath, our body, our beauty<br />
swaddled in this seed<br />
Hushed and waiting<br />
Hushed and wondering<br />
Still only, sweetly, ours<br />
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~lgLindsey Gallanthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14866184149163912415noreply@blogger.com0