tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76358100079132079522024-02-20T19:08:26.813-08:00100th LambElizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.comBlogger339125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-63043289050601042532016-11-25T02:16:00.000-08:002016-11-25T02:17:44.348-08:00Two Turkish Van Cats<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
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Today is the story of two cats, both of them Turkish Van breed (rather rare in the US).</div>
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First, there is Sula, the mission cat, whose book a number of us at Old Mission SJB put together to raise funds has been mentioned very positively on two more cat blogs: Feline Opines and Best Cat Page. I find these only by googling from time to time. It is always fun to see another mention. Sula's book is selling steadily.</div>
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Here are the links:</div>
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<a href="https://felineopines.net/tag/sula-the-comfortor-cat/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">https://felineopines.net/tag/sula-the-comfortor-cat/</a></div>
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<a href="http://thebestcatpage.com/2016/11/02/mission-cats-story-tale-hope-people-fighting-cancer/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://thebestcatpage.com/…/mission-cats-story-tale-hope-p…/</a></div>
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Second, there is our Murjan. We got the unhappy news from the vet yesterday. He has exactly the same illness that Intrepid died from three weeks ago: small cell lymphoma. He is now on the same treatment plan. He seems to be doing better with the chemo, though, so far. Of course, it is been only one day, but we are hoping for the best. It would be sad to lose both the remaining Jordanian cats within weeks of each other. So, we are counting on the chemotherapy to work this time.</div>
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Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-67296069348919126422016-11-25T01:25:00.002-08:002016-11-25T01:29:22.727-08:00Snowed In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Saw Ma on Wednesday, and called daughter Noelle to talk to her. Ma
clearly enjoyed hearing Noelle's voice. Shane showed her pictures of his
little ones. Nathaniel is now quite big, and Ma took the phone from Shane,
kept looking at the picture of Nathaniel on the phone, and did not want to give the phone back.
Yesterday, we did not get to communicate with her because she was under
the influence of morphine given to her for pain from a wound she has on
her leg. Today, we were snowed in. Brings back memories of growing up
here.<br />
<br />
Got about a foot of snow. Flake-dropping slowed a bit around 4:00, so Shane and I went walking
amid thew white swirls, and I went sliding (slipped on some ice). Now, I
can tell that went sliding -- am a bit bruised. Blueberries and tea --
the only inflammation and pain remedies handy.tasty, anyway. Hopefully,
none the worse for the trip (literally). <br />
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Pics are some of the scenes we saw when we peered out the window. The photos are not in B&W; they are in
color. Just not much color in the air today!Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-27323165763013620442016-01-28T15:46:00.002-08:002016-01-28T15:47:08.367-08:00Ma and the Quixocity of LifeBreaking with the Memory Lane reveries to bring some breaking news in the family about Ma, family matriarch.<br />
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Since Donnie's mother died in 1999, my mother has become the family matriarch. One sort of expects matriarchs to go on forever, and those who have read my book, Blest Atheist, certainly know that Ma was not a model mother but very abusive. Nonetheless, a mother is a mother, and a matriarch is a matriarch. One does not think about the death of either.<br />
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However, two days ago Ma, who has always been strong as a horse (comes from living on a farm), had a massive stroke that has paralyzed her right side and voice (extremely frustrating for her because she is a talker -- one listens, she talks). Today, the doctors determined that she cannot swallow and will need a feeding tube to live, but they are giving her the choice whether to have the feeding tube or not since she is coherent and can communicate by nods. There is also the complication that the surgery to put in the tube could be deadly because her high blood pressure is still not contained.<br />
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She was, at first, leaning against the tube but is now leaning toward it. The cboice is to battle on or rest in peace. It is rare that one really has a choice in which both versions are so different but can be right and natural.<br />
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While her 8 children would like to weigh in on the decision, of course, we are all giving her the space to make the decision without influence.<br />
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Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-13718884369525899072016-01-27T15:27:00.000-08:002016-01-27T15:27:45.289-08:00Nikolina, A Few Years Later<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't usually double-post, saving the Clan of Mahlou bog for the more detailed family issues and 100th Lamb for the more general topics, but there was a time when readers of this blog were following the story of NBikolina and so I am posting here the update I posted on the Clan of Mahlou.<br />
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I
think when my logs got hijacked, Nikolina was still a toddler. Well,
she is now in first grade! For those who have followed her from her
Miracle Baby status at Stanford University Hospital through the hack
date, I have exciting news.<br />
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She not only survived, but
she thrived. She is a happy, pretty, bright little girl today who loves
to ride therapy horses, does well in schools, handles technilogy with
zest, and spins around in her wheelchair with zip. She actually can
walk, but slowly, with hot pink braces.<br />
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School was a
challenge medically, but the school invited my daughter-in-law to come
to school all day every day in case of medical urgencies and
emergencies, and that has worked. Nikolina is not overwhelmed by Mommy,
because Mommy helps out all the classes yet is close by for changing
ostomy bags or recognizing the need for a dash to the local hospital in
Sacramento -- as y'all might recall, they were in the process of moving
there when the blog went blank -- or a longer ride to Stanford.<br />
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As
for all the rest of it, Nikolina leads a normal litlte girl's life: she
has birthday parties and goes to birthday parties, loves her cat and
big brother, visits Disneyland, plays with other kids, and anything else
one would imagine as part of a child's life.<br />
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Never out of the woods but oh, so far from the beginning of the path...and so much more light shining through the trees!Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-6894217206689927122016-01-20T23:42:00.000-08:002016-01-20T23:42:00.218-08:00Boots and Kids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think all parents and teachers can relate to this:</div>
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A kindergarten teacher was helping one of her students put his boots on. He had asked for help and she could see why. With her pulling and him pushing, the boots still didn’t want to go on.</div>
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When the second boot was on, she was nearly out of breath.</div>
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She almost whimpered when the little boy said, “Teacher, they’re on the wrong feet.”</div>
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She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn’t any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as they worked together to get the boots back on – this time on the right feet.</div>
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He then announced, “These aren’t my boots.”</div>
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She bit her tongue rather than scream, “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” like she wanted to. Once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off.</div>
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He then said, “They’re my brother’s boots. My Mom made me wear them.”</div>
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She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She mustered up the grace to wrestle the boots on his feet again. She said, Now, where are your gloves?”</div>
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He said, “I stuffed them in the toes of my boots…</div>
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From Dailyheadline.com</div>
Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-88659888154376744572016-01-19T00:10:00.001-08:002016-01-19T00:10:49.388-08:00If you take Nexium...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Donnie has a theory that once you start seeing a doctor for one problem, it is all down hill from there. One problem becomes two, two become three...<br />
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I am not sure that I agree with this theory of progression, but I am not surprised that medicines -- chemicals we were not born with -- can have some unhappy side effects.<br />
<br />
Recently, I was diagnosed with Barrett's Esophagus, a pre-cancer of the esophagus. Nexium, which controls GERD (apparently, half of my friends suffer from this; my own situation is that the GERD is a result of my 37-year-old hiatal hernia) and usually does a pretty good, at least for me, has some side effects, about which my doctor did not warn me, so I found out in an unpleasant way.<br />
<br />
A few months ago, I had to have a root canal redone. The endodontist is unsure whether some of the root that had been resorbed would grow back up. Time will tell.<br />
<br />
Then, during a routine cleaning and x-ray, the dentist discovered an empty space deep in another tooth and sent me back to the endodontist. He was puzzled. It was resorption. He told me he had no explanation for it, but he could state positively that treatment would be painful since I am allergic to painkiller.<br />
<br />
Potential pain turned out to the least of my problems. (I say that with the treatment still pending...) I do not believe that there is "no discernible reason" for problems, so I did some research. It turns out that bone resorption (a good example is teeth) can be a side effect of Nexium.<br />
<br />
Now, I am putting much calcium into my body to replace the calcium constantly being stolen by Nexium. Since I cannot give up the Nexium without risking cancer, then lots of milk and calcium pills are on my daily schedule.<br />
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Thought I would share in case any followers are also taking Nexium. Ask your doctor about possible resorption -- and good luck.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-16700794537016038842016-01-18T23:33:00.001-08:002016-01-19T00:20:04.274-08:00The Blood of a Tick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">I am not one of the most "aware" people in the world. In general, I am pretty oblivious to the everyday matters of life. I guest that might qualify me as one of the most trusting people around. So, perhaps my reaction to a recent tick-cat interaction could have been expected.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">One of the feral cats we feed seemed to have some kind of bump on her back. I explored, thought it was a burr, and pulled it out. It was a huge tick and splattered some blood on me and on the cat. So, since I have not progressed far beyond childhood (or maybe because I am apparently part cat), I licked it off without thinking about it -- it was just a little bit.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;"></span>
<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Then, out of curiosity,</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;"> I got on line to see if there might be an after-problem for the cat from the tick. I found out that yes, there might be, but also there might be one for me. It is not recommended to drink (or lick) tick blood. (Now I find out!)</span><br />
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So, Donnie knows to watch for odd behavior in me (not sure he would recognize it, though) -- and to complicate matters, I get a typhoid shot on Friday (to prepare for Morocco).</div>
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Oh, well, it makes life interesting. I am a risk embracer, so it will be interesting to see what follows.</div>
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Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-18946965379211452322016-01-12T19:46:00.000-08:002016-01-12T19:48:16.407-08:00It Only Hurts When I Can't Run: A Book Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Unfortunately, my Mahlou Musings blog remains hijacked by Neoworx -- apparently, I have to pay for a premium plan for using the visitor counter before I can have my blog back. Not into blackmail, so I will move at least my book reviews to the 100th Lamb site, which has now fallen back into my eagerly awaiting hands. I will also post here some excerpts from my own books, as well -- things that I used to do on Mahlou Musings. Hopefully, followers there will find the things they liked there here. Of course, these two kinds of posts will be in addition to my regular posts, not in lieu of them. I will mark the MM columns with my tiger icon. At some point, I will explain why the tiger.</div>
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<a href="http://msipress.com/media/gewanda-johnson-parker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://msipress.com/media/gewanda-johnson-parker.jpg" height="200" width="151" /></a><br />
Before then, though, I want to share with you a remarkable book by a remarkable writer. The author is today a pastor, but she spent a childhood experiencing one abuse after another -- physical, emotional, and sexual, along with abandonment and neglect. One would think she would lose faith, especially since at least one of her rapists was a leader of her church. She did. She maintained her faith -- and grew up, serving as a remarkable example to all of us. Her faith gave her the resiliency to grow up to become not one of the lost but one of the leaders. As an adult, Gewanda founded Hope and Healing Corporation, serving the needs of the marginalized of society locally and abroad. She also started an organization to help young girls and teens suffering from low self-esteem and identify issues. She is also a featured concert soloist. Her natural talent in music has offered her the opportunity to minister and travel through the US, Canada, and Bahamas. In 2003, she was asked to speak to the highly military religious divides between the Protestants and Catholics in Belfast, Northern England. She hosted a weekly radio show called "Message of Hope" (directed toward reconciliation and healing of the family, community, spirit, soul, and mind). She occasionally speaks on radio shows today, and readers of her book can find out where she will next be speaking (or link to a previous broadcast) on the publisher's website: www.msipress.com.<br />
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<a href="http://msipress.com/media/It-Only-Hurts-Front-Cover-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://msipress.com/media/It-Only-Hurts-Front-Cover-1.jpg" height="200" width="124" /></a>Here is the publisher's description of <i><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/it-only-hurts-when-i-cant-run-gewanda-johnson-parker/1121988064?ean=9781933455808">It Only Hurts When I Can't Run</a></i>. Abandoned, neglected, and beaten by a mother who really did care about her but suffered from her own demons and addictions, left with friends and relatives, as well as placed in foster homes, molested, and raped on more than one occasion, including by men considered upright, the little girl who grew up to become an educator, minister, and entrpreneur learned to survive by running away again and again. This heartbreaking and heartwarming story, told with courageous frankness, reveals a deep trust in God that, in the long run, prompted an unbelievable resilience, allowing a young girl, turned young woman, to forgive those who hurt her and to reach out to all those who hurt with a message of healing and hope.<br />
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Here is my reaction to the book. This book reaches the reader on a visceral level. It is difficult to put it down. Anyone who has been abused will empathize. Anyone who cares about little girls will sympathize. Everyone will marvel at how one little girl could endure so much and not only survive but also thrive and how one adult woman could offer such total forgiveness to those who had hurt her, especially her mother who died soon after the publication of the book but who, one might think surprisingly, gave permission to her daughter to publish it. Truly a remarkable story, a remarkable author, and a remarkable, if flawed, mother.<br />
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<i>It Only Hurts When I Can't Run</i> reached a highly popular level on the Amazon lists, to wit:<br />
#4 in the Amazon Hot New Releases in the child abuse category<br />
#8 Hot New Releases in the family relationship/abuse category<br />
#47 Hot New Releases in the family relationship category.<br />
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<i>It Only Hurts When I Can't Run</i> is recommended by the <a href="http://www.theusreview.com/reviews/It-Only-Hurts-When-I-Cant-Run-by-Gewanda-J-Parker.html#.VpXESvkrIgt">US Review of Books</a> and by <a href="http://www.midwestbookreview.cowww.midwestbookreview.com/sbw/aug_15.htm">MidWest Book Review</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://mir-s3-cdn-cf.behance.net/user/138/6267377.539f36165f386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://mir-s3-cdn-cf.behance.net/user/138/6267377.539f36165f386.jpg" /></a><a href="http://msipress.com/media/Zhenya1-150x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Zhenya" border="0" src="http://msipress.com/media/Zhenya1-150x150.jpg" /></a>The illustrator of Gewanda's book is <a href="https://www.behance.net/zhenyayanovich">Zhenya Yanovich</a>, a talented young artist who lives outside Moscow, Russia. Other illustrations he has done in general and for books can be found on his website, which you can view by clicking on his name above. He is also the CEO of Khronograf Publishers, a Russian publishing house (also described at his website).<br />
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<br />Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-76585971620049223532016-01-12T18:25:00.000-08:002016-01-12T18:26:10.021-08:00St. Francis and Sula, Parish Cat at Old Mission<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In my last post, I referred to St. Francis as the "inspirator" of Sula, the parish cat at Old Mission. Perhaps some thought that was because St. Francis is the patron saint of cats. Perhaps others thought that that was because the Franciscans built Old Mission. I imagine no one, or almost no one, thought I meant it literally. But I wonder...take a look at the picture above of Sula, seeming to be taking her daily orders from St. Francis on the mission grounds. (Snapped by one of the docents.)Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-79490844424704062182016-01-10T15:59:00.000-08:002016-01-10T16:05:57.166-08:00Sula, Parish Cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1VgMtJNlAEzDnIH0d_ab5HOXfM6mIrjdf9JSa172eMrcgPoCZcAtBal5PqKVfnuak1J0jQv2MMrDNoYKE4bYPdjYHxKDTXkDLLO3_oDoUOKt_h8ybW-klDQ84npEmqvUat5P6ptxdHDk/s1600/Sula+in+the+Nativity+Scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1VgMtJNlAEzDnIH0d_ab5HOXfM6mIrjdf9JSa172eMrcgPoCZcAtBal5PqKVfnuak1J0jQv2MMrDNoYKE4bYPdjYHxKDTXkDLLO3_oDoUOKt_h8ybW-klDQ84npEmqvUat5P6ptxdHDk/s320/Sula+in+the+Nativity+Scene.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Somewhat over two years ago, I related a story of how Sula, our parish cat at Old Mission, shown here in the Nativity scene this year, comes to confession. She also rarely misses a Mass,<br />
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Well, Sula has become somewhat famous these days. An article I wrote about her was published in the December 2015 <i>Guideposts Magazine </i>as "A Cat with a Mission." Guideposts synopsized the story on its <a href="https://www.guideposts.org/slideshow/sula-a-cat-with-a-divine-mission">website</a>.<br />
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Then, this week, the <i>Hollister Freelance </i>(California paper) carried Sula's story in a touching piece, "<a href="http://www.sanbenitocountytoday.com/lifestyles/sula-the-cat-is-on-a-mission-in-san-juan/article_813c16f6-b575-11e5-886b-cfab711d8975.html">Cat on a Mission.</a>"<br />
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Both articles had excellent pictures, including some that were not in the publications. If you find the Christmas picture endearing, check out these other two sites.<br />
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And, please, stand by. Sula is writing her own book, <i>Surviving Cancer, Healing People: One Cat's Story</i> (<a href="http://www.msipress.com/">MSI Press</a>), due out in February (or maybe a tad later). The purpose is to raise money to retrofit her mission home against earthquakes.<br />
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So, here is the proverbial ending: "more later."<br />
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Have a relaxing weekend -- and find some time to be with Sula's Divine Inspirator, the good Lord (and St. Francis).<br />
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<br />Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-88995826590195249892016-01-04T22:06:00.000-08:002016-01-10T16:07:23.844-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #33<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s1600-h/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396798128322213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s320/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" style="float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 220px;" /></a>Now that I am back, I am going to try to pick up on some of the memes of the past that have meaning still two years later. One of those is Monday Morning Meditation. Maybe some day I will update and improve them and organize them into a book. For now, I am happy just to be back talking about these topics. So, since I left off with the Book of Second Kings, I am returning to chapter and verse where I left off before. This week, the first story, the next in line, is the story of Naaman, who was cured of leprosy by Elisha.<br />
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Reading: <a href="http://www.christnotes.org/bible.php?q=2+Kings+5&ver=kjv">II Kings 5: 1-27</a><br />
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Meditation: Sometimes, the details can be as important<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;">—</span>or, at least, as revealing (perhaps of something else)<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;">—</span>as the point of a story. The story of Naaman is well known. The "bottom line" presented in the last couple of verses is also well known: the greedy, unthankful servant does not get all the goodies he wants but rather is infected with leprosy. That bottom line, however, is not what attracted my attention this Monday, Rather, it was something that is very common (at least, with me, and, I suspect, with many). When Elisha's messenger told Naaman to wash in the Jordan River seven times and he would be cleansed, Naaman could not accept this at first. It was not what he expected of a prophet of God. (Sort of like Jesus not being what the Pharisees expected from a messiah.)<br />
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Having lived in Jordan and having spent time in and around the seemingly very ordinary (and, actually, nowadays drying up) Jordan River, I can understand why Naaman would not think that this river would have any "special" properties. Of course, it was not the river but how God used the river that mattered. (An aside: God has used that river a lot!)<br />
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This seemingly minor detail strikes me as equally important as the bottom line. This so often happens to me. I want/need an answer to something, or guidance, and God sends me an answer, but in a form I don't recognize or want to accept. Sometimes, it is a colleague telling me something I don't want to hear. Sometimes, it is a door that won't open, one that I keep trying when another, better is right beside it, and I am not seeing it. How I left Jordan is one such example. I had received multiple calls from the States, offering me a very good job to come back to California. However, I wanted to stay in Jordan. Suddenly, my job there dried up. I attempted to find another job there; all doors were closed although I was well known and had an excellent reputation. Then, friends tried. Same deal: all doors were closed. I was left with no alternative other than to accept the job in California.<br />
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Two aspects of the importance of that job became clear over time. One was for my benefit: it brought me back to the States at a time when my son, Shane, was about to become a father to two children, both with serious medical issues, now under control. I would not have been able to help him while being far away in Jordan. The other was for the benefit of the people at my workplace. I ended up as the senior manager there, and I have been able to help many. I know that is where God wants me, but that is a story for another time.<br />
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And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I retire to prayer, to thank God for the ongoing ways in which He keeps messaging me even though I don't always listen well, to ask Him to keep knocking (with my promise of trying to be better at opening the doors he puts in front of me), and to praise Him for His great love and persistence. After that, I will spend as much time as I can in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.<br />
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I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.<br />
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For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-14667963236824590742016-01-03T12:40:00.001-08:002016-01-10T16:07:43.947-08:00Happy New Year 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wishing all a Happy New Year in 2016, and hoping to see some old friends on this blog, which I have finally been able to revive -- long story of frustrated efforts, learning more about technology, stolen sites, more frustrated efforts, and walking away to work on more productive activities. Then, voila, everything fell back into place, and I was able to get into this blog. Working on getting into the others and renewing old acquaintances.<br />
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Will bridge the two-year span in the next set of blogs, during the month of January.<br />
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In the interim, would love to hear all of your new year resolutions. My only one is to find the present and live in it. (One of my employees told me that I am perceived as someone who lives in the future, dedicated to bringing those living in the past into the present. I suppose that is true though I have not figured out whether this is a compliment or a complaint.) For now, I will try for a more "present" orientation, to enjoy the daily graces that God grants us and praying that He will shower you with those graces every day of 2016.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-89309788189929196172014-01-17T20:24:00.000-08:002014-01-17T20:24:23.336-08:00The Danger of Shampoo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span>Just had to re-post this from the Internet for those who have not seen it. It seems to be making the rounds. </span><br />
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<span>DO NOT wash your hair in the shower!!<br /> <br /> It's so good to finally get a health warning that is useful!!!<br /> <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> IT INVOLVES THE SHAMPOO WHEN IT RUNS DOWN YOUR BODY WHEN YOU SHOWER WITH IT. WARNING TO US ALL!!!<br /> <br />
Shampoo Warning! I don't know WHY I didn't figure this out sooner! I
use shampoo in the shower! When I wash my hair, the shampoo runs down my
whole body, and printed very clearly on the shampoo label is this
warning, "FOR EXTRA BODY AND VOLUME."<br /> <br /> No wonder I have been
gaining weight! Well! I got rid of that shampoo and I am going to start
showering with Dawn Dishwashing Soap. It's label reads, "DISSOLVES FAT
THAT IS OTHERWISE DIFFICULT TO REMOVE."<br /> <br /> Problem solved! If I don't answer the phone, I'll be in the shower!</span></span>Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-79936663349444514062014-01-07T13:34:00.000-08:002016-01-10T16:08:13.975-08:00God's Second Christmas Gift to Me in 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I know that that 2013 is over, and we are now a few days into 2014. Epiphany, after all, marks the end of Christmas. However, Christmas this year is likely to stay with me for quite some time, yeah, maybe even forever. In addition to the Unsecret Santa gift that God gave to me this year, in a typically generous manner, He gave me a second Christmas gift--and he gave it to me at a special time--Christmas eve--and in a special place--our old mission church, which is my favorite church in all the world. Midnight Mass this year began at 10:30. (We cheat a little because there are lots of children and lots of elderly folks in this small comunity, so we end Midnight Mass at midnight, rather than beginning it at midnight, and we begin with a half hour of caroling, a tradition that seems to have fallen by the wayside.)<br />
All of this is merely preliminary to share that while Christmas eve is always special in our community and church, Midnight Mass this Christmas eve was unexpectedly even more special. It was special because of the unexpected expected. Expected was a full house; we had it. Expected was a feeling of sharing Chistmas eve with centuries of parishioners gathered into our old mission on Christmas eve after Christmas eve; that sense was there, as always. Expected, too, was the presence and participation of Sula, our parish cat (a feral cat who adopted the church and whom the church adopted). Not unexpectedly, Sula, who never misses a Mass (clearly Catholic, as you can see here by her walking over to join the communion line), was sleeping in the creche while carols were sung. She woke up when the retinue of priest, deacon, and altar servers stopped at the creche at the beginning of Mass to lay baby Jesus in the manger. Knowing her place, she yielded to the Greater Authority, stepped out of the creche, followed the procession to the altar, and then promptly lay down in one of "her" places.<br />
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For a brief moment, I was sitting in an empty pew near the back of the church. It quickly filled from the right, though, and then the small space to the left was taken by a stranger, someone, I learned, who had recently moved to town. He noticed Sula and, in surprise, whispered to me that there was a cat at the altar. Yep, we are used to that. This is her church, and there is even a cat door that she uses, which is left over from the really old days when cats were needed to chase rats out of the church.Not to worry, I told him. She is Catholic and a member of our parish. She also sits in pews and expects parishioners to move over and give her space; they do.<br />
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After the opening prayers, we all sat down for the first reading. Sula stood up and walked in a straight line under the pews from front to back, appearing near my feet. I reached down and picked her up. She knows me, and after all, I am a cat lady; all cats know that. She did not want to sit beside me, however, as she sometimes does. Instead, she crawled over me and into the lap of the stranger beside me. He did not reject her but sat quietly while she slid her head under his arm and went to sleep, sprawled across his lap.<br />
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"I think this is a sign that God has forgiven me," he whispered to me, with emotion causing a catch in his voice. He went on to explain, "I was an abused child, and I used to torment cats. I know it is not a justification. It was just my way of dealing with things. I have been so repentant for so many years, and I give money to the SPCA to help them counteract people like I was. Still, I have never been able to forgive myself or feel that God has forgiven me for what I did to those cats."<br />
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He stopped for a minute, then whispered almost in wonderment, "I have never told anyone this before."<br />
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Why did he tell me? I will never know for sure, but I think it was God's second Christmas gift to me this year, letting me share in a moment of His grace. (He spoils me that way.)<br />
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As for the stranger, a great peace exuded from him--and from Sula. She slept on his lap all through Mass. He did not go up for Communion, not wanting to disturb her. The rest of us in the pew scrambled past him, but Sula did not move, just breathed slowly in the satisfaction that accompanies deep sleep. She was still sleeping on his lap when Mass ended and everyone scattered to their various homes. I said good-bye. My last image as I walked out of the church was the stranger, stilling sitting in the pew, alone, except for a little white angel on his lap.<br />
<br />Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-50847074951365321672014-01-05T13:23:00.000-08:002014-01-05T13:36:28.974-08:00Unsecret Santa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A couple of years ago, we heard about the Secret Santa movement--a movement that seems to be secret in itself. Secret Santas go to department stores around Christmas time and pay off the layaways that are still there. Dozens of people find themselves pleasantly surprised for Christmas when they receive a special call from the layaway department. No one ever knows who these Secret Santas are because, well, they are <i>secret </i>Santas. They work out a deal with the clerks at the layaway counters or with the store managers, pay off whatever number of packages, and then leave. I suppose the clerks may know their names unless they are paying for all those packages in cash. If the clerks know, though, they never say. <br />
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Donnie and I became intrigued with the Secret Santa movement a couple of years ago although we cannot be considered well off. In fact, we have to scrape dollars and sometimes even change together to get our last few meals of the month before our next paychecks arrive. (It is not that my job does not pay a decent salary; it does. The problem is that all of Shane's money and much of ours goes to keeping our $3M [so far] granddaughter, Nikolina [see sidebar], alive and smiling. One of only three OEIS Complex survivors in the world, she is now a plucky, happy four-year-old but requires close medical monitoring and special supplies. I will write an update soon.)<br />
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While we do not have the finances to be Secret Santas, lack of money has never stopped us. So, a couple of days before Christmas we go to our local Kmart, where we can use our Sears card, ask the layaway clerk to find a package with toys in it, and pay it off. (We figure that if there are toys, there are children, and, who knows, without those toys, Christmas might be rather barren. We also figure that if they have not been picked up by December 23, the parents are probably struggling financially and may not be able to come up with the remaining amount. After the store calls the recipient, we sneak out. It is crazy fun!<br />
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This year, though, a lady walked into the layaway department as we waiting for the one clerk to find a package for us. The second clerk waited on the newly arrived lady, who had paid about 2/3 of the cost of the layaway but was short of cash for Christmas food. She wanted to turn in the layaway and get what she had paid into it back so that she could feed her kids.<br />
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While the second clerk looked for her package, we talked to the lady. She told us she had five boys (well, there's a challenge), was a single mother, and had just been a little lavish in her desires for the kids for Christmas. Lavish? When the clerk brought out the package there were 1-2 gifts (a t-shirt and a toy or pajamas and a toy) for each boy, and there was a cookware set, obviously for everyone. All together it was more than what we had planned to spend, but it was Christmas, after all, and God is pretty good at refilling our coffers. So, we told the first clerk not to look anymore and explained to the lady what a Secret (un, Unsecret) Santa is.<br />
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The layaway clerks excitedly walked with us to the customer service desk, where all the items in the layaway package were turned back in, the lady reimbursed for what she had paid into the layaway, and then all the times were purchased on our Sears card. The customer service desks clerks got into the spirit of things, too, and it seemed like Christmas had arrived a couple of days early.<br />
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The lady, whose name we never learned (nor does she know ours), kept iterating her grateful surprise. It clearly seemed a bit unreal to her until it came time for her to leave the store with all her layaway items and more than enough cash in her pocket for holiday food. She gave both Donnie and me a big hug, then revealed that she had not planned to come by the store the evening of the 23d but was planning to come in on the morning of the 24th. She had been returning from work, really tired, really hoping to go home, when she felt so impelled to come to the store that she knew she had to make the extra stop but did not know why. I guess we can all figure out why!Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-53704402595560908682013-12-24T12:50:00.003-08:002016-01-10T16:08:35.671-08:00Merry Christmas 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wishing all a blessed Christmas!Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-41506002203054025562013-12-18T20:39:00.000-08:002013-12-18T20:39:10.077-08:00What Is Better Than Money? Merry Christmas!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFkN9HpaO4vyTjHvt8JPguqlvbZxJ1VtyuAN5BPBuMVRrJpO9nuyd5q8nicu5SGlcmt3W43bmAipb-BEuXcuEn2sP5NY70fQBgM3vk6Kepe8ZL5dNcBAG9WcOd36Aq0cvohRqLoKblcFx/s1600-h/christmas-ornament-border-thumb3025983.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416128667073403234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFkN9HpaO4vyTjHvt8JPguqlvbZxJ1VtyuAN5BPBuMVRrJpO9nuyd5q8nicu5SGlcmt3W43bmAipb-BEuXcuEn2sP5NY70fQBgM3vk6Kepe8ZL5dNcBAG9WcOd36Aq0cvohRqLoKblcFx/s200/christmas-ornament-border-thumb3025983.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 160px;" /></a>We cannot put up a Christmas tree (real or artificial) because one of our cats, Intrepid, eats all kinds of plants and nearly died once from ingesting a lot of plastic branches. (Thanks to a concerned vet who rushed to our house, he is a wonderfully fine herbivore today.) We can, though, note Christmas in many other ways with decorations outdoors, Christmas cookery, finding fun gifts for colleagues, and shopping for the kids and the grandkids. <br />
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Ah, shopping for the kids! That is a relatively new and wonderfully pleasant experience. When they were growing up, we never had money for shopping for them. Medical expenses for <a href="http://mahlou.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-along-came-doah-child-4.html">Doah </a>and <a href="http://mahlou.blogspot.com/2009/08/noelle.html">Noelle </a>always robbed us of that particular pleasure, and visiting them in the hospital -- Noelle was there Christmas day for a number of years in a row -- meant little time for shopping of any kind had we had any money to engage in that popular activity. <br />
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Nonetheless, we have many pleasant memories from Christmases past. For example, one year we had moved into a new place with a fireplace. Donnie had built a warm fire on a cold Virginia night, and we sat together, enjoying the evening while the kids were sleeping. Five-year-old Doah, however, woke up and crept downstairs. Seeing the fire, he began crying loudly. <br />
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"What's the matter, Doah?" we asked.<br />
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"Ho-ho burn butt!" he sobbed. <br />
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For the sake of Santa Claus's posterior, we put out the fire. Doah went off to bed quite happily, satisfied that he had finished his task of ensuring a safe entrance for the deliverer of gifts.<br />
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Then there was the year that we had no money at all. Christmas celebrations of the traditional variety were seriously out of the question, especially since we were moving at the end of December. The day after Christmas, as we were taking our first load of household goods to our new residence, we happened to drive past a Christmas tree lot and noticed that the lot had been abandoned. In the back of the lot was a lone, sickly-looking, leftover Christmas tree. <a href="http://mahlou.blogspot.com/2009/08/oldest-daughter-lizzie.html">Lizzie </a>and <a href="http://mahlou.blogspot.com/2009/08/third-child-son-shane.html">Shane </a>jumped out of the car and delightedly dragged it over to Donnie, who lashed it to the roof. Off we went, pleased with our acquisition, although we got strange stares from passing cars. We later decorated our puny little tree with our traditional ornaments, turning it into a festively proud fir. Homemade gifts in the form of food items were the theme of that year. We decorated the tree with cookies, fudge, and other favorite items of the kids that they removed and ate New Year's morning, the day we had decided would be "Christmas" that year. <br />
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Other examples of special Christmas events abound. I will share some of them: <br />
<blockquote>
(1) Our introduction to Christmas with kids came when Lizzie, our oldest and at barely two years old too young to know anything about Christmas yet -- or so we assumed -- stood in her pajamas at the window as dark settled around our apartment on Christmas eve and suddenly announced, "Santa Claus is coming tonight!" Oh, no! There were no plans for Santa to come that night! Donnie dashed to the car. It was nearly 9:00. The only store still open was a Five-and-Dime, and all Donnie could find in it were little socks for Lizzie's doll. It was enough to make her happy, and from that day we began the practice of one present per child for Christmas. <br />
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(2) We tried to make the one gift something very special, but we could never predict our children's strange requests. For example, Lizzie at the age of eight, a precocious fourth grader (she had skipped second grade), asked for a college textbook on genetics. Her interest came from attending the university Russian courses I taught on those days when she had no school and spending the hour in my intermediate Russian course solving problems passed along to her by one of my students who was majoring in genetics. (He also proudly dragged her to the honors program director, who invited her to attend some lecture-form university courses, where she promptly fell asleep. Nonetheless, the director offered to "enroll" her in the honors program as an aspiring college student, but doing so became too complicated. She had to wait another four years before taking her first college course for credit.) When Lizzie, who did become a genetics major for about three years before changing her major to cognitive neuroscience, received her Santa-delivered genetics textbook, she ecstatically raced from house to house in our small neighborhood to display her treasure, then returned home, plopped down beside me on the sofa, and mourned, "None of my friends like my gift! They think it's dumb."<br />
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"Well," I asked her, "What do <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> think? Are you happy with the book?"<br />
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"Yes. It's exactly what I wanted, and I really like all the problems at the end of the chapters."<br />
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"What did your friends get?"<br />
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"They got dolls. <span style="font-style: italic;">That's</span> dumb!" I don't remember Lizzie ever playing with dolls other than the one that needed socks when she was little, a soft pink lamb that my grandmother gave her as a toddler and that she has to this day, and a monkey that my grandmother made for her out of a sock that she eventually wore out. <br />
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(3) One year, no one had been in the hospital all year, and we had money for Christmas! It was enough to buy bikes for Shane and Lizzie, pre-teen and teen at the time. Donnie and I were as excited as children to be able to get those bikes for our kids. (Noelle, who is paraplegic, and Doah, who is mentally retarded, never were able to ride a bike, but they got gifts that they had asked for.) That year, Shane and Lizzie had made no particular gift request, and we played a very cruel trick on them. We hung only the bike-lock keys on the tree and hid the bikes behind the house. The keys blended into the ornaments, and after the other gifts had been given out, Shane and Lizzie had nothing. In true Shane and Lizzie fashion, they looked around the tree one more time and said nothing.<br />
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"Did all the gifts get passed out?" I asked innocently.<br />
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"It seems so," said Lizzie. "Shane and I don't have anything, but that's okay. We don't really need anything. We didn't ask for anything this year."<br />
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"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure there is nothing else?" Donnie pulled one of the keys off the tree and handed it to them.<br />
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"Oh, oh, oh!" Shane exclaimed, "We have a bike!" Clearly, he assumed that Lizzie and he would be sharing.<br />
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"Go look out behind the house," Donnie suggested, and they took off running. We regretted not taking a camera with us when we saw the look on their faces when they caught sight of TWO bikes! They were extraordinarily understanding kids. They knew what it had taken for us to gather the money for two bikes, and they were grateful to us every time they rode them. That was a special Christmas. Donnie got a bike the following Christmas, and for years the three of them would ride together on Saturdays while I spent the day with Noelle and Doah.</blockquote>
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The most special Christmas, though, was not one when we had money for gifts but one when we did not. It came two years after the bike Christmas. That year, multiple surgeries drained our coffers dry. Fortunately, we had an artificial Christmas tree with which a relative had gifted us a few years earlier, so we put up the tree and decorated it. Christmas eve ultimately came, and we knew we had nothing for the children. Donnie and I contemplated another year of cookies and fudge, but before Donnie got down to cooking (something he had to do alone -- <a href="http://mahloumusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/kirchen-chaos.html">I am such a bad cook, I would have wasted the ingredients in preparing inedible foodstuffs</a>), one of us -- I don't remember which -- had a scathingly brilliant idea, to quote Hayley Mills' character in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Trouble with Angels<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>. Donnie had by then begun working as a computer graphist, and we conceived of making coupons for each of the kids for one-on-one activities with Mom or Dad: a snack at McDonald's, a special lesson in one of our specialties, private walks, an activity that the child would choose, and so on. Each child received a book of twelve coupons that could be redeemed at will during the year. They loved them, and they used every one of those coupons! That year remains our favorite. In spite of our annually increasingly brighter financial status, no year matched that one for that year Christmas lasted not one day but twelve months. <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />The end</span>: As I was writing this post, nostalgia made me turn to Donnie and start reminiscing about that very special Christmas. We want to repeat it. So, we have just decided to give our children and grandkids coupons for future joint activities this year. As for the money we had set aside for gifts, we are now excitedly planning how to get rid of it and have scads of ideas about where to distribute it. I will add a PS later, once we have decided where it will go. <br />
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Oh, this year is going to be such a great Christmas!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAskWlO5XaAuhCE27hbSSKPFycSq97GtownV0RIDadV5ZhYTz32LgRWOnx1YvDMc-PcFowQtrrRXNAvzT3VRzQEGdgIMXZzKDak10U2mAHkXJ0GO_RRCvDwuWCEQD6cci535u4qp8KoIo/s1600-h/Santa+happy+face+Christmas+ornament.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416128387437835122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAskWlO5XaAuhCE27hbSSKPFycSq97GtownV0RIDadV5ZhYTz32LgRWOnx1YvDMc-PcFowQtrrRXNAvzT3VRzQEGdgIMXZzKDak10U2mAHkXJ0GO_RRCvDwuWCEQD6cci535u4qp8KoIo/s200/Santa+happy+face+Christmas+ornament.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a>Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-26997547874089614842013-12-09T19:39:00.000-08:002013-12-09T19:39:09.063-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #32: Multiplication, God's Way<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s1600-h/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396798128322213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s320/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 220px;" /></a>This week I moved from I Kings to II Kings and wandered into the story of Elisha coming to Gilgal when there was a famine in the land. To a gathering of 100 men with Elisha, a man from Baal-shalishah brought Elisha 20 loaves of barley and fresh ears of corn, who told his servant to give them to the 100 men. The servant asked how on earth these few loaves would feed 100 people, and Elisha responded, "Give the people, that they may eat; for thus saith the LORD: They shall eat, and shall leave thereof." And that is exactly what happened. In a foreshadowing of the story of Jesus feeding the multitudes with five fishes and two loaves and having baskets left over, not only were the people fed, but also there was leftover.<br />
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Reading: <a href="http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt09b04.htm">II Kings 4: 38-44</a><br />
Meditation: Whenever I hear these stories of God multiplying resources, whether it be loaves of bread or, as earlier in Kings, vessels of oil, I am reminded of so many times when God has has multiplied resources in order to help me and my family, for which I feel immense gratitude. We may live in an imperfect world, in which free will, running rampant, can result in some very bad things happening -- and then watching God bring good out of the bad is highly reassuring. Experiencing the multiplication of resources is about as awe-inspiring as it gets. Since the morning is very early and I do need to get some sleep before heading out to work, I will give only one example, but it is, for me, a powerful one and a bit complex.<br />
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After returning to California from Jordan a few years ago, we received an e-note from our tax accountant, informing us that the IRS determined that we had underpaid our taxes by $11,000, based on income from Jordan that we had not thought was taxable but was. The very next day a bill from the IRS stood proudly in our mailbox. "Due immediately" was stamped across it. <br />
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Ha! Fat chance in ___! We had just finished moving, and while the majority of our moving expenses had been covered by my new employer, many unanticipated expenses had not been covered. To complicate matters, we had moved all our savings from our bank in Jordan to Shane’s account in the United States to facilitate our return. Our safety valve of $14,000 had us resting easy until the greedy hand of a hospital accountant, unbeknownst to all of us, requested court permission to search Shane’s bank accounts for additional money in order to increase the rate at which he was paying off the costs of the five kidney surgeries of Nathaniel, our grandson. Lo and behold, during the exact two-month period that we were using Shane’s account to hold the money until I was back in the United States and could transfer the money to my own account, the additional $14,000 was found in Shane’s account and without any notice to him, our entire savings at that time was withdrawn by the hospital. All our income had dissipated or been used to cover moving expenses. Now, Uncle Sam wanted $11,000!<br />
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Our tax accountant was able to get us a six-week delay, no more. Six weeks to find a spare $11,000 while finishing moving from overseas back to the United States and trying to set up housekeeping, a major one-time expense in itself, turned out to be too great a task for my overwhelmed brain. So, I did what I always do now. I left it up to God. My trust was so complete that I asked only once. Then I put the problem out of my mind, continuing on happily with my daily life, confident that some unique response would come before the end of the six-week period as it always had. It did.<br />
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A few days after asking God for help, I received a letter in the mail from Indiana University, where I had worked five years earlier in an interim position. The letter in my hand concerned my retirement fund. I had such a small retirement fund with the university that I had actually forgotten about it. Fortunately, the university had not. According to the letter, all individuals no longer on payroll needed either to take out the retirement funds or roll them over into a retirement fund external to the university immediately. I called the fund, and the amount available for take-out, minus (of course) taxes, gave me 50% of what I needed for the IRS. God had rescued me yet one more time. <br />
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The other 50% owed, I was certain, would show up before the end of the six-week period. God had never before left me hanging at half-mast. Sure enough, a week later, a quarterly summary from another retirement fund at another institution, where I worked years earlier, arrived in the mail. I had put that particular fund out of mind because it had taken a big loss years ago. According to the recent statement, though, it still had most of the dollars that had been invested from my pay checks tucked away in it, earning a penny here and there in interest. Those dollars would cover another 40% of what was owed. I called the fund. A very kind gentleman agreed to close my account and send me those much-needed dollars. He could not give me a precise amount but thought it would be close to the amount in the current quarterly summary that I had received in the mail. He explained that I would have to wait for the stock market results at the end of the day, which would determine the precise amount to be disbursed. I would receive whatever the fund was worth at that time, most likely the amount he had just cited to me.<br />
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We were close! Clearly, we would not be trapped in IRS hell or married to the IRS for eternity. The remaining 10% would show up somehow. If necessary, I could eke it out of my salary or borrow it from someone. <br />
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As it turned out, there was no need to worry about the remaining 10%. The stock market leaped upward over the next few hours. Donnie said he thought it might have been due to the release of iPods on that day —- some of our stock was in technology. <br />
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On January 11, we received considerably more than we expected. The amount allowed us to pay off the IRS debt in full on the 12th, the last day of our extension. It also paid our tax accountant’s bill in full. Moreover, after paying all those with their hand held out, we found an additional $400 in our basket. What to do with that? The answer was obvious. That was God’s money. He had over-multiplied our resources, so I compelled to return it to God. (I gave it to Fr. Barry, the director of our local Franciscan retreat center; he was probably amused when I explained that the source of the money was a mathematical miscalculation by God. Actually, I don't think there was any miscalculation; the retreat center really needed that money because their main building had burned down and needed to be re-built.) <br />
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And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I retire to prayer, to thank God for the ongoing ways in which He keeps my bread basket full just when they are beginning to look empty, to ask Him to help all others who have empty or emptying bread baskets, and to praise Him for that fact that He really can do this, while still allowing free will to reign. After that, I will spend as much time as I can in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
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I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-11863019002773328712013-12-09T19:38:00.002-08:002013-12-09T19:38:53.978-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #31: Do Not Cause My People to Sin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s1600-h/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396798128322213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s320/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 220px;" /></a>This Monday is beginning a bit ineptly. I wanted to get up early; I overslept a little -- not enough to miss out on my prater time but enough perhaps to run out of time to share it with you. I had two loads of laundry to run through before going to work; only one load will make it. (So, do I wear clean underwear and inappropriate clothes, or the other unthinkable combination? I chose the clean underwear -- even though no one sees it!) Fortunately, no need to think about breakfast; my current diet allows only cereal and milk, quick enough to gulp down in five minutes. Donnie casually asked what time I am leaving for Hawaii tomorrow; dunno. I also don't know yet which airline or airport. Will figure that out today. And, the thought is nagging at the back of my mind that my friend, whom my boss forced me to take as a junior manager and who failed as such, never got fully fired on Friday because she ran off on sick leave, then appeared at my boss's office on another issue. I have not been able to reach him to find out if he told her she is being fired by her current supervisor, a senior manager who works for me and with whose decision I concur, from her current position in my organization (he has to help find another position for her -- I looked for something as well).<br />
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In any event, I did not have to read far to find something that really struck me today. In the very next chapter, in the very next verse, actually, I came across the story of Baasa, who caused Israel to sin and ignited the ire of God, who smote him, wiping out him, his whole family, any progeny, and all his potential glory as a ruler. Goodness gracious, these Old Testament stories hit home for me!<br />
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Reading: <a href="http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt09a16.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span> 16: 1-20</a><br />
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Meditation: The story of Baasa opened old sorrows for me. When I first came to faith (at a very late date, I might add), one of the things that I realized with a good deal of sadness was the number of people I had led away from God. Had it been only my family that would have been sad enough, but I had always held leadership positions and had always been outspoken in my atheism. Never pushy, but open about my opinions on just about anything, including what I considered to be an accurate understanding of the non-existence of God. This really confused Americans I had brought to Jordan to teach at a university there. Overwhelmed by the great differences between American and Jordanian life styles, the bridge between which I tried to be for them, they would turn to me for all kinds of physical and emotional help. I earned the title, "God's agent in Jordan." When they found out I was an atheist, they were lost as to what was going on. Only one persevered in not accepting my atheism. He called me "a believer in waiting." Still, as a senior leader in several different positions, working literally on a global scale, I had the opportunity to influence the thinking of many people. Especially younger ones took me on as a role model in far too many cases, a role model that included giving up their faith and accepting my atheist ways. (I was not immoral or unethical -- Donnie says I was "brutally ethical" -- but all decisions were made based on secular ethical systems, not on any thought of God or God's will.) <br />
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After coming to faith, I was immensely remorseful for "stealing" people's faith from them. I know God has forgiven me. I know that strong faith won't bend to atheism. I know that God will make right what I put wrong. Still, the remorse is there. Most days now I don't think about it because it is in the past, and it is in God's hands. However, when I read stories like these from the Old Testament, I cannot feel good about who I was. I can only feel grateful for God's grace in the matter.<br />
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And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must run to work, already having finished my prayers for this morning, which I did before retiring, instead of after, today because of the limited time available (and look h ow good God is -- I did finish writing before having to leave for work!). A brief description of the non-private contents of those prayers: I asked, no begged, God to let me help Him put right what I put wrong, something I often do; repented -- oh, how often and sincerely I do! -- for those times in the past that I cannot go back and re-live and did so much harm to so many people; thanked God for those times in which I have been allowed to meet individuals who have re-found their faith after my devastating earlier negative influences on them; and gave praise for the wonderful grace that forgives and forgives and loves and loves. After that, I spent an all-too-brief time in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
<br />
I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-73100582354365153712013-12-09T19:38:00.001-08:002013-12-09T19:38:38.866-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #30: Lead As Jesus Would<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s1600-h/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396798128322213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s320/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 220px;" /></a>As I read about the successors to Solomon in the middle chapters of the book of <span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span>, a clear pattern emerged: not only did these kings sin, but they also caused Israel to sin, much in the manner of Solomon sinning and causing Israel to sin at the end of his life, an act that caused God to be angry with him. With Solomon, it began (in earlier chapters of <span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span>) with Solomon's taking of foreign wives against the commandment of God, a command with which God had sought to prevent Solomon being converted to foreign gods through the love of foreign wives and concubines.<br />
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Reading: <a href="http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt09a15.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings </span>15: 33-34</a><br />
Meditation: It may seem like a bit of a stretch to apply this history to modern leadership, but since modern leadership is the stuff of my every day life, I do see parallels and lessons nearly everywhere, including in <span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span>. As was written about Baasa, he "did that which was evil in the sight of the LORD, and walked in the way of Jeroboam, and in his sin wherewith he made Israel to sin," so can it be that leaders of all sorts do evil in the sight of the Lord and in their sin make their followers to sin.<br />
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As a senior leader, it is easy to forget the influence that one has over the thinking and beliefs of one's subordinates. More than one display of anger, and some junior leaders will consider that heavy-handed approaches are permissible ways to manage. After all, it is easier to demand and to be angry when one's demands are not met than to share governance, listen patiently to someone you just know is wrong, and to compromise when you just know you are right. A lax interpretation of rules and regulations for self benefit tells both junior leaders and employees that cheating is okay if it is only "a little thing." Remembering that deeds speak louder than words can keep one from self-exemption in acting in accordance with moral and ethical standards especially when one thinks one is not being seen. It is much like with our children. If our words and deeds do not match, our children are more likely to emulate what we do than to follow the principles we hope to inculcate in them through education.<br />
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It is far easier than we think to lead those who follow us astray, whether that be astray from moral standards, scrupulous adherence to regulations, or willing obedience of God's commands and taskings. For that reason, I ask God to help me at the beginning of every day (often several times during the day as events unfold) to keep me not only from hurting anyone but also from leading anyone astray. I also ask that His love flow through me and splash onto those around me, that both my words and deeds honor Him, and that I set the kind of example for junior leaders and employees that He would have me set. (Of course, even with God's help, I do not always succeed for human emotions intervene from time to time, causing me to forget to refer the given situation back to God.) <br />
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In trying to lead as God would have me lead, I find two sources of leadership development helpful. One is the <span style="font-style: italic;">Bible</span>. Just as the passage from <span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span> can provide excellent guidance, so can much throughout the Bible -- those situations where leaders excelled and those where they failed. There is another book that I have found to be quite helpful and that I recommend to any leader: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Leadership-C-Gene-Wilkes/dp/0842318631/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266832004&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jesus on Leadership</span></a> (C. Gene Wilkes). For leaders who are not Christians, a very similar book is put out by the Greenleaf Center, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Case-Servant-Leadership-Kent-Keith/dp/B001OU4H5E/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266833179&sr=1-6"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Case for Servant Leadership</span></a> (Kent Keith, the author of the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Do-Anyway-Happiness-Paradoxical-Commandments/dp/1577316282/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266833179&sr=1-2">Paradoxical Commandments</a> that Mother Theresa loved, otherwise known as "Do It Anyway"); while foot-washing is not mentioned in it, it does reflect principles that God taught to leaders and hoped and expected from them throughout the <span style="font-style: italic;">Bible</span>. <br />
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These books help me a lot. God (and prayer) help me even more. And the rest I mess up all by myself -- and go running to God to help me fix it!<br />
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And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to continue to ask for guidance every minute of every day as I interact with junior leaders and rank-and-file employees, to repent for those times that I have set a bad example, to thank God for so often setting straight with my employees what I do wrong, and to give praise for the way in which He leads me and my subordinate leaders to assist and support those who work for us, the ways in which he ensures that we do not harm any of them exceedingly much, and the way in which He has brought much spirituality into our workplace. After that, I will spend time in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
<br />
I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-45840525145534685352013-12-09T19:38:00.000-08:002013-12-09T19:38:25.377-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #29: Let Me Discern Between Good and Evil<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s1600-h/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396798128322213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGtDq-HiJuHZ4db4crCCZHqKoqEAr1xzS5k3JnZisSdXujQK65a5Te5uPNDN4MC0KGA8RwF8UguiNwDS1KZDJT5lM2q9F6fnv7Rp7Cl6JxeJZd7AnR-bC6ymz8S1Ik3P5qfPb2MQUDBVM/s320/OMC+inside+for+weekly+MMM.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 220px;" /></a>As I moved on into the book of <span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span>, David's long reign came to an end and Solomon was annointed king after a failed attempt by Adonijah to appoint himself king. Shortly after becoming king, Solomon had a dream in which God asked him how could he gift him, to which Solomon replied, "Give Thy servant an understanding heart to judge Thy people, that I may discern between good and evil," whence came what we speak of today as Solomon's great wisdom.<br />
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Reading: <a href="http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt09a03.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">I Kings</span> 3:19</a><br />
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Meditation: Discernment between good and evil -- what a great gift! And to have the wisdom to think to ask for that instead of something more evanescent or of lesser ultimate value! Solomon did indeed choose well. May we all, if ever given the chance, choose as well.<br />
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I suppose that this particular action/verse stopped me in my tracks because this is been a topic that has had me in its grip in recent days. I posted yesterday on Modern Mysticism about <a href="http://diaphanouspresence.blogspot.com/2010/02/nightmares.html">nightmares </a>and the visitation by evil forces while asleep at a time when I did not want to believe that Evil, as such, could really exist. I have also posted earlier on Blest Atheist about some unnerving experiences that seemed to be <a href="http://www.blestatheist.com/search/label/evil">Evil </a>up to no good.<br />
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At times, I find it very difficult to discern between Good and Evil. Perhaps this is because I expect to find only Good. (Yes, I am naive in that way.) Perhaps it is because I expect God to protect me from all Evil. (I suppose I am naive in that way, too, although God has never failed to rescue me.) Perhaps Evil can be so enticingly sweet at times that I simply do not want to believe that it is really Evil. (Yes, triply naive, I admit it.)<br />
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A couple of years ago, a friend told me that he was being chased by Evil. I remember how scary that was. I remember how much time we spent in prayer together. I also remember how much time I spent in prayer alone, dedicated to begging God to deliver my friend from evil: 20 hours! In the end, Evil lost and God won. It was, however, a battle. I guess that this is what we are being told over and over again in the Bible: there is a battle between Good and Evil, and we are often part of it.<br />
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Most recently, an acquaintance with whom I am required to interact at times seems to be caught in a battle between Good and Evil over him, but he does not seem to recognize it. I have pointed it out, and I have seen his face take on strange castings, so strange that I am relieved that I have never had to be alone with him at these moments. I am not the only one who has noticed these facial disturbances and a sense of evil, not emanating from within him but present all around him. He is a believer and professes belief, but sometimes the words sound hollow and his eyes look vacant. I don't know how to help or whether I should help or even if I have properly discerned evil in this case. I may be completely wrong. So, I pray for him. And I pray for me -- for the kind of discernment that God gave to Solomon (even for a small part of it).<br />
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And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to continue to ask again for greater discernment, to repent for those times that I have mistaken Evil for Good, to thank God for protecting me from evil when I was too naive to know that I was surrounded by it, and to give praise for the way in which He leads me to safety even when I do not know where I am going except that I am following Him. After that, I will spend time in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
<br />
I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-73255385431692507622013-12-09T19:37:00.000-08:002013-12-09T19:37:59.111-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #61: I Lift Up My Eyes unto the Hills<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSZrvXj_AUuHL7opslK07FAedqDvnrDYznYKXuGneh9PYu1fOnZSg5Le-Vt8fAIUOYI5xGOlpC6cqudgK0C04g4BBTCLeeCNCJA9MhIuUWVxMtYH7G2xdwKQP288KWJvzXH4ZhjJr5DVK/s1600/OMCwintersolstice+220x165.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500705987552365106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSZrvXj_AUuHL7opslK07FAedqDvnrDYznYKXuGneh9PYu1fOnZSg5Le-Vt8fAIUOYI5xGOlpC6cqudgK0C04g4BBTCLeeCNCJA9MhIuUWVxMtYH7G2xdwKQP288KWJvzXH4ZhjJr5DVK/s320/OMCwintersolstice+220x165.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 179px;" /></a>When I reached <span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 121</span> this week, it was clear what this Monday morning's meditation would be about for I had just come across one of my two favorite psalms (the other being <span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 23</span>, which I think is a favorite for many people). Raised in the foothills of the White Mountains in Maine and New Hampshire, spending the first years of married life in the Bitteroot Mountains of Montana, working recently for two blessed years in the holy hills of Jordan (in the shadow of Mount Nebo), and now sheltered in my current residence by the California coastal mountains, I find hills of any sort to be as essential to my being as the Swiss Alps were to Heidi's of literary fame. The psalm evokes the sense of security, safety, and peace that I feel in the mountains. <br />
<br />
Reading: <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+121&version=NKJV"><span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 121</span></a><br />
<br />
Meditation: San Ignatio is surrounded by hills, gentle slopes that rise enough into the sky to be considered small mountains but not great summits. As such, they exude an atmosphere of friendliness, like the hand of God reaching out to say, "Here I am; come nearer." I see these hills every day. In the winter and spring, when they are sprinkled with raindrops, they are great folds of green carpets rising toward the sun. When the rain has sunk below the roots of the grass, they become the golden hills of our summer and fall. Whether they are green or gold, I can look upon them and know that my help comes from just beyond them, from God, who pours out love with the sunshine and with the rain. When I take my constitution, lately less daily than it should be, I often find myself reciting Psalm 121, as I look upon the hills.<br />
<br />
Here, indeed, I find my help. Here, too, I find that God never sleeps. The sun by day and the moon by night in our clear sky remind me of God's presence, love, and kindness. Here I feel secure.<br />
<br />
A few years ago, when I was leaving RCIA, Fr. Greg stood at the door as I was leaving, as if waiting. When I asked what he was waiting for, he said he was watching me go to me car. "Well," I told him, "I hope you have extraordinary distance vision because I walked." <br />
<br />
"In that case," he responded, "be careful that you are not attacked on your way back."<br />
<br />
Now why he would ever think that anything like that would happen in San Ignatio, I don't know, but then he was in interim priest and did not live here. "I'm not worried," I explained to him. "I feel protected."<br />
<br />
In an oddly quiet voice that seemed to come from a sudden understanding, he nearly whispered, "I believe you are." I believe I am, too. Were I to have had any thoughts to the contrary, the day that Lizzie and I <a href="http://mahlou.blogspot.com/2010/05/stalked-by-stoned.html">escaped from being stalked by three stone 20-somethings</a> would have put those thoughts to rest. <br />
<br />
Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer, repenting for the to many times recently that I have skipped my daily walk because I was too busy, to thank God for always being with me even when I am not with Him and for protecting from all that would harm me, to praise God for His faithfulness as do so many of the psalms leading up to <span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 121</span>, and to ask Him to protect all my friends and acquaintances and those of His children whom I do not know in the same wonderful way He has protected me. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
<br />
I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too.)<br />
<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-75322646682276698822013-12-07T23:08:00.003-08:002013-12-07T23:08:42.616-08:00The Christmas Pageant<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeV0bVHdrN2Y6UH9y6PkR7-FUAJ1dIdMQDw1nxof3ShnrhT26P0Y-P3iA1AF3nI_a3Nav9y51toLouybOWmAktsjCKq-SC2yf3qBgvrlIUl0tvQgslmZeUvxsdXIyQaAzsMqI045cs5yJx/s1600/christmas+pageant+cartoon.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548218079591137346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeV0bVHdrN2Y6UH9y6PkR7-FUAJ1dIdMQDw1nxof3ShnrhT26P0Y-P3iA1AF3nI_a3Nav9y51toLouybOWmAktsjCKq-SC2yf3qBgvrlIUl0tvQgslmZeUvxsdXIyQaAzsMqI045cs5yJx/s400/christmas+pageant+cartoon.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Another goodie from the Internet loop, sent to me by a friend and, I think, worth sharing:<br />
<blockquote>
My husband and I had been happily married (most of the time) for five years<br />
but hadn't been blessed with a baby. I decided to do some serious praying and promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with His word as my guide.<br />
<br />
God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son. The next year God blessed us <br />
with another son. The following year, He blessed us with yet another son. The year after that we were blessed with a daughter. My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old.<br />
<br />
I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it. As a minister once told me, "If you pray for rain, make sure you carry an umbrella." I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as they lay in their cribs. I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four children, and I didn't want to disappoint Him.<br />
<br />
I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks. I tried to be understanding when they started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours<br />
to catch all twenty-three frogs. When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess. <br />
<br />
In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal <br />
and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my children. While I couldn't keep my promise <br />
to be a perfect mother - I didn't even come close - I did keep my promise<br />
to raise them in the Word of God. <br />
<br />
I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to "wash up" Jesus, too. Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give us his "last wife."<br />
<br />
My proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant. My daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine. My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes." But he was nervous and said, "The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes." My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes." A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing. <br />
<br />
I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying, "Mama-mama." Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up, and held it tightly as the wise men arrived.<br />
<br />
My other son stepped forward, wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger, and announced, "We are the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts<br />
of gold, common sense and fur." The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation. <br />
<br />
"I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one," laughed the pastor, <br />
wiping tears from his eyes. "For the rest of my life, I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense, and fur."<br />
<br />
"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing," I said as I dug<br />
through my purse for an aspirin.<br />
<br />
Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master. He had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher. He had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer. He had no army, yet kings feared Him. He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world. He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him. He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today. Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us. <br />
<br />
GOD BLESS YOU ALL! </blockquote>
I think all mothers can relate to the story of the pageant and that we all can take a minute to ponder the wonders of that last paragraph. Wishing you all a blessed Advent and Christmas. Let's not hurry the season; let's experience it fully.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-68468225495513889912013-12-01T16:35:00.000-08:002013-12-01T16:35:21.077-08:00Monday Morning Meditation #71: Let Us Go Up to the Mountain of the Lord<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSZrvXj_AUuHL7opslK07FAedqDvnrDYznYKXuGneh9PYu1fOnZSg5Le-Vt8fAIUOYI5xGOlpC6cqudgK0C04g4BBTCLeeCNCJA9MhIuUWVxMtYH7G2xdwKQP288KWJvzXH4ZhjJr5DVK/s1600/OMCwintersolstice+220x165.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500705987552365106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSZrvXj_AUuHL7opslK07FAedqDvnrDYznYKXuGneh9PYu1fOnZSg5Le-Vt8fAIUOYI5xGOlpC6cqudgK0C04g4BBTCLeeCNCJA9MhIuUWVxMtYH7G2xdwKQP288KWJvzXH4ZhjJr5DVK/s320/OMCwintersolstice+220x165.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 165px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 179px;" /></a>Many apologies for missing the posting of a MMM last week. I did not notice that the post had not gone up until later in the week as I continue with the agony of not having my computer back yet and working off an old clunker that I borrow as needed. We did get a progress report, but it was rather bleak: the techies finally figured out what happened: an unnoticed power surge fried the mother board. The fine print in my warranty says that mother boards fried by power surges are not covered, and so now I have to pay some office 3000 miles away to fix and fedex my computer. Oh well, at least I will have it back, and more engrossing of our time here is a flea battle. We are going buggy with fleas. The cold weather has forced the little biters inside, where they attacked our cats. The cats have now regained to the offensive, thanks to medicine and flea collars. Now the fleas are taking refuge on me. I am considering the possibility of picking up a large dog flea collar on the way to work today. I hope I don't get too many stares!<br />
<br />
At any rate, I moved from flea scratching to reading. Very soon, I came across a wonderful verse, Isaiah 2: 3, which reads as follows:<br />
<blockquote>
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, <br />
to the temple of the God of Jacob. <br />
He will teach us his ways, <br />
so that we may walk in his paths.”</blockquote>
Reading: <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%202&version=NIV"><span style="font-style: italic;">Isaiah 2</span>: 3</a><br />
<br />
Meditation: When I first came to faith, it was through the direct intercession of God, and in the early days of my walk with God, I would turn day after day to God, asking for lessons. There would always be a lesson, a difficult one. The difference between learning from a human teacher and learning from God is that God knows exactly where your threshold for learning lies, exactly what your Zone of Proximal Development (to use Vygotsky's term), exactly what you should be able to do when performing at your peak. No human teacher can push you the way God does because no human teacher knows your mind, heart, emotions, motivation, and potential skill set the way God does. So many times I have had to repeat a lesson over and over until the understanding became clearer and the skills more habituated for God put before me more than I thought I could handle, yet somehow I always did handle it, however poorly at first. In my experience as a student and, for a period of time, as a teacher myself, I have never experienced a teacher like God. I guess that is why Jesus is referred to in the New Testament as "Teacher" and why, in <span style="font-style: italic;">Isaiah 2</span>, we are told that God will teach us how to walk in His paths.<br />
<br />
Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to repent for the times I have tried to avoid God's lessons, to praise God for perfect way in which He knows my every capability and thought, to thank God for His willingness to keep on teaching me when I fail time after time to learn His lessons well, and to ask God to help me become a better student of His ways. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves. <br />
<br />
I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s1600-h/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386767874385841922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj6WZVu_J7NL4_Ydh-N-5gQaUX2nAe9Y4DyDIqzVgkCJYDJxz4hmWjrvl6MY6r54WWJsIJK4X_YmcVn9eIQEMqcb8Z3M8-jtBgPV7b0kyqi5zLUiIHIviY9_p1T4qsd4rVinBFO4gqgV/s200/Monday+Morning+Offerings.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 161px;" /></a>Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "<a href="http://concordpastor.blogspot.com/">Monday Morning Offering</a>." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)<br />
<br />
For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7635810007913207952.post-42652594589410585242013-11-30T22:00:00.002-08:002016-01-10T16:14:04.947-08:00The Techie and the Traditionalist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GRjKtYyhR45RPKXvoZVOq2ycawnw-k5EowN4YWi9hSKgBjBQegJ3HA1m4CXN7C3FWcFXv6Uiyi0s91Vgseu8duqF2kRLWt7KsTo-vuEzsdkC1D74IsmVYW6OQzZmsOTcP1fB6iniKeoB/s1600/plume+of+smoke+in+town.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GRjKtYyhR45RPKXvoZVOq2ycawnw-k5EowN4YWi9hSKgBjBQegJ3HA1m4CXN7C3FWcFXv6Uiyi0s91Vgseu8duqF2kRLWt7KsTo-vuEzsdkC1D74IsmVYW6OQzZmsOTcP1fB6iniKeoB/s200/plume+of+smoke+in+town.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Today I experienced the perfect
example of the techie married to the traditionalist. We heard
some sirens, then I heard noises from Donnie's iPad and asked what was
going on. He said he was listening to the dispatch calls to try to find
out where the fire in Ignatio was. I stood up, looked out of
our big living room window that overlooks the whole town, pointed to a plume of
smoke and several fire engines on Fourth Street, and said, "There it
is!"</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">(Just had to share!) </span>Elizabeth Mahlouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00334700057953625321noreply@blogger.com1