tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567909197898506152024-03-13T11:59:42.593-04:00Hermeneutics in High HeelsConversation about life and ministryKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-6574858381284559462022-10-27T17:58:00.007-04:002022-10-27T21:28:08.893-04:00Pastor Appreciation Month<div><span style="font-size: medium;">Recently we've hosted retreats for our seminarians to share the table, fellowship, and worship together. I make sure we laugh, sing, and play games, but we also discuss some of the difficulties of ministry. Pastors are in the people business, which means things can get heavy. The weight is what makes it meaningful (!), but it's also what makes it heavy. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Like everyone else, many pastors are struggling in this season. The reasons are varied, but the struggle is real. It is real, and most usually it is borne silently.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">October is Pastor Appreciation month, and whether your pastor is walking on sunshine or struggling mightily, I encourage you to reach out. Pastor Appreciation month is a time set aside for intentional encouragement of your pastoral staff. Here are a few ideas friends and I have discussed. Can you try one of these this October? </span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Give your pastor TWO additional Sundays off between now and the end of the year. Tell her you expect her to be gone from Friday until the following Wednesday. THIS IS IN ADDITION TO HER VACATION DAYS.</span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Consider giving him all fifth Sundays off in 2023 to worship elsewhere. Yes, pastors can worship while leading, but our mind wheels are also spinning. We hope the visitor who walked in during the opening prayer will be welcomed (but not weirdly). When we step into the pulpit to preach, we look you in the eyes and remember your struggles, your marital issues, your worries. This is all natural and we're grateful; however, the gift of fifth Sundays to be <i>led in worship</i> is incredibly kind.</span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Mail her a note with specific encouragement.</span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Discover what he likes to do for fun and gift him something in that realm. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but no pastor needs any more scripture figurines or prints. What are her hobbies? Baseball? Give her tickets to a game. Reading? Give him a gift card to a local book store. Coffee? Treat her to your favorite blend. Discover what she likes to do and go in that direction. It needn't be elaborate. </span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">When you are frustrated with a leadership decision he has made, call him. Don't email, don't text: Call. Speak to him directly and as soon as possible. Emails and texts with the words "We need to talk" keep us up all night.</span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Invite your pastor to your house for dinner. If you're not a cook, invite her out to dinner with you and your family and/or friends. Try your best not to talk about church things for that evening.</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-size: medium;">These are just a few ideas, which may or may not work in your context. I double dog dare you to try one, or come up with some of your own!</span></div></div><div><br /></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-11058126890479196692022-07-22T15:28:00.005-04:002022-07-22T18:28:36.445-04:00Cream Horns and Grief<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When someone we love dies, we are heartbroken. Maybe you find yourself heartbroken today. If so, know I am thinking of and praying for you this afternoon. Whether you're missing your grandpa, your child, your friend, your baby, your brother, your boss...I am thinking of you. Your loved one was unique and loved.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Ministry took me a few miles from home this morning, and because I live in DC, every mile is a hike (!) so I found an interesting place to enjoy lunch. Today it was a Swiss restaurant, and since I've not been to Switzerland nor tried Swiss food (save the cheese!), I stopped in. I chose a cold pretzel sandwich with butter, salami, and gruyere for my meal (<i>insert chef's kiss</i>). What a world.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />As I finished, I saw them out of the corner of my eye. What are them? Cream horns.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYKAMTf0uFtojyJOCpXb8l_a6KA9T9HpjEmaafTB9akgbLVJjgGMrFzbL71-2a8l7M88joXRHaStGtkh3iGYz-kYl00k2esrBJz5l0dkH8gXaJPDNCG2AR2_HunIrbqsVRgloxtYI-CpdxqhFt9TdUY-xbiJ22C7EQidDQpC8YWHpOaHvKNRssPDjsA/s3024/IMG_9851%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2670" data-original-width="3024" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYKAMTf0uFtojyJOCpXb8l_a6KA9T9HpjEmaafTB9akgbLVJjgGMrFzbL71-2a8l7M88joXRHaStGtkh3iGYz-kYl00k2esrBJz5l0dkH8gXaJPDNCG2AR2_HunIrbqsVRgloxtYI-CpdxqhFt9TdUY-xbiJ22C7EQidDQpC8YWHpOaHvKNRssPDjsA/w400-h354/IMG_9851%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Hello old friends.</span></i><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The McKowns love a cream horn: The powdered sugar, the flaking, the cream--it's all heavenly. If you haven't tried one, get thee to a bakery stat. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All McKowns love them, but the McKown who loved them most was Betty, my grandmother. I can still remember Granny gleefully eating cream horns over the sink. Why eat over the sink? </span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Why dirty a plate? </span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Why chance powdered sugar on one of her exceptional outfits?</span></li></ol><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGb54j1pJpEsWmK05ME7fwJ67gSbS2xz4mcyaHlpxjiZjkewEt7k_6IU3EHGPx2XpPksgCccxNt84qJ5ZNw4bXe8MndBiCpOnq0cTEVcSTIuVlunS6KrpdI1bsfWfoWMXKeH0o9Pfi714qoTVkPo6gVTUhXTVINBICM3KGhOoAHz9OTNzgjZdcU9y4g/s1197/51569542_10104866816088433_524634906655981568_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGb54j1pJpEsWmK05ME7fwJ67gSbS2xz4mcyaHlpxjiZjkewEt7k_6IU3EHGPx2XpPksgCccxNt84qJ5ZNw4bXe8MndBiCpOnq0cTEVcSTIuVlunS6KrpdI1bsfWfoWMXKeH0o9Pfi714qoTVkPo6gVTUhXTVINBICM3KGhOoAHz9OTNzgjZdcU9y4g/w361-h400/51569542_10104866816088433_524634906655981568_n.jpg" width="361" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Exceptional outfit </span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Cream horns always make me think of Granny. I smiled when I saw them, but I also swallowed back a lump in my throat. Grief is like that. It's joy, it's sadness, it's gratitude, it's pain, it's funny. It can be all the things. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And wherever you are on your grief journey, know there is no recipe. Laughter and tears are both welcome, and sometimes surface within the same day. Today I mostly felt joy, but I felt some sadness too.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My faith (Christianity) is a comfort. Jesus wept when his friend died (John 11:35), so I imagine Jesus grieving with me when I grieve. <i>(I also imagine him laughing when me when I laugh, but who knows if he likes puns as much as I do.)</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">What are the "cream horns" for you? What is a sign of your loved one? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And please know, no matter your faith or religion, I am praying for all those who grieve today. </span></p>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-47718660356946822252022-07-15T18:48:00.010-04:002022-07-15T19:23:38.555-04:00Highlands, Hagrid's Hut, & Hogwarts<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The title of the post is misleading, as today there are more than 3 points and they are not alliterative. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Highlands</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is the most beautiful place I've ever been. Hands down. All I can do is gape in awe.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I travel internationally, I typically think I won't return because there are so many lands to see, people to meet, foods to taste, and cultures to experience (!) but I could definitely return to Scotland. (I think I definitely <i>will </i>return to Scotland.)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrcGsEKR-YGyq77i1ISJsqYHwTTUEfH9VVMObqG5sJKEXWk-_t77GjyeAxgs9qZhl1WBQ8hT4XaQhp4wvkAIt2iOrUmrfOXi8u0CvR_YojXeLIT6XVtl0VvOfpJXdDxwWpuS8cPzRaymQo4B3iLeenIpAlJJtFtp-2xPUasPssDyeP-1bW0ZlV0Rb1A/s4032/IMG_9595.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2730" data-original-width="4032" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrcGsEKR-YGyq77i1ISJsqYHwTTUEfH9VVMObqG5sJKEXWk-_t77GjyeAxgs9qZhl1WBQ8hT4XaQhp4wvkAIt2iOrUmrfOXi8u0CvR_YojXeLIT6XVtl0VvOfpJXdDxwWpuS8cPzRaymQo4B3iLeenIpAlJJtFtp-2xPUasPssDyeP-1bW0ZlV0Rb1A/w400-h271/IMG_9595.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>With the incomparable Meg Ramey!</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3JXZJ8Muw820Uc_Xfuj8vUWay8utCKWGfMWJKTQV_kNOJJcBHI74YR2IQpMYWrzk8UKUBVWvJuqtOr5tyfhHY1qgPSXQkXpIO-GwynVJ9UqoHQ3p-6_WKy3folm6kCNPi3XKIkyCv1QE1XiNcwJSLkCwHaJv-lkHW2miY433aSfssNlYDbDDmhcynw/s4032/IMG_9502.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3JXZJ8Muw820Uc_Xfuj8vUWay8utCKWGfMWJKTQV_kNOJJcBHI74YR2IQpMYWrzk8UKUBVWvJuqtOr5tyfhHY1qgPSXQkXpIO-GwynVJ9UqoHQ3p-6_WKy3folm6kCNPi3XKIkyCv1QE1XiNcwJSLkCwHaJv-lkHW2miY433aSfssNlYDbDDmhcynw/w400-h300/IMG_9502.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIuWCUjm7gQ-8wuQJyHSZldgN7UNaqwhUPn4lIyHiH5KySPiJGSNj0jC5reRsnblqV1lPvLXiO7clPvsw1ml_8wFhqeX1SNYHKg1cWpT9KGu8aeFKEftZcr4rE5LmDndP7TuSOceb22KKAMV5c5Ox41hDJ3QTCN6Tpw5CfeznTH3M2l38rWz8xD0BIg/s3088/IMG_9538.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="3088" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIuWCUjm7gQ-8wuQJyHSZldgN7UNaqwhUPn4lIyHiH5KySPiJGSNj0jC5reRsnblqV1lPvLXiO7clPvsw1ml_8wFhqeX1SNYHKg1cWpT9KGu8aeFKEftZcr4rE5LmDndP7TuSOceb22KKAMV5c5Ox41hDJ3QTCN6Tpw5CfeznTH3M2l38rWz8xD0BIg/w400-h300/IMG_9538.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hiking in Glencoe</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWrSJWhSbx1yDr_CF_-uNgNbtNfb8WxqePMKeJPPEluLQIxN2TzYCnCEmWbiwBAlsdEdP6y8CIZ6z9mJqkzPYBRyqelZGzo_x-MZe8kwH_ivdsM13aWmpgYTVhDuTgWW7AF8B8iA9odTBLKyxWqtLG8slTXTqpQj-R3T_pN2udsBTBwS4O3SVbKN9Lw/s4032/IMG_9505.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWrSJWhSbx1yDr_CF_-uNgNbtNfb8WxqePMKeJPPEluLQIxN2TzYCnCEmWbiwBAlsdEdP6y8CIZ6z9mJqkzPYBRyqelZGzo_x-MZe8kwH_ivdsM13aWmpgYTVhDuTgWW7AF8B8iA9odTBLKyxWqtLG8slTXTqpQj-R3T_pN2udsBTBwS4O3SVbKN9Lw/w300-h400/IMG_9505.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Bagpipes</span></b></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When we stopped in the Highlands to stare at the majesty of Scotland, a man started playing the bagpipes almost on cue. Sandra, our kindhearted, fun traveler, let Mr. Bagpipes know we had a birthday gal among us and he happily obliged. Grown people were giggling. GIGGLING! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Church</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">St. Conan's Kirk (church) is settled next to a loch. Conan built it for his mom and while it appears medieval, it was built in the early 1900s. There are a few stained glass windows, but the windows in the apse are clear pane and what a beauty they are! It's got personality.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGQu-2tO3An9GW_iR2c3T9DVKaOeJ3l-ukcfHd1LHNQ_rqaChRSIzu-YxuqEYCdM3Wru8cl_6nOnUMwfHZvi9fuJuxV4LmKiIwHjN5SiuadX2b5HoBlJgKkTejfNzXkgGs_8qVLxBXjwCYllQnCxJNHV-A7Y3LFa9F8JRT_YJ6Re089IJgo0ImbjgNg/s4032/IMG_9459.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGQu-2tO3An9GW_iR2c3T9DVKaOeJ3l-ukcfHd1LHNQ_rqaChRSIzu-YxuqEYCdM3Wru8cl_6nOnUMwfHZvi9fuJuxV4LmKiIwHjN5SiuadX2b5HoBlJgKkTejfNzXkgGs_8qVLxBXjwCYllQnCxJNHV-A7Y3LFa9F8JRT_YJ6Re089IJgo0ImbjgNg/w300-h400/IMG_9459.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NDPe9Mm41HUhLU4VPS1rbSvZ8OiSy_2-VL7T6F943VKi7YKRC2x7MbG6gNoEmyFmZoHnpEnU8n5iOOCaxuaHwWM9a57Qoix2BG7U3fTGzJEOoVMxBeTXj7YEqrIOg3LXLIFvPL2gTg8cG2A_tO9JaphfEIT_rVeb-t3inEdu_Q8N7JvfNUZVsmvDfw/s4032/IMG_9455.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NDPe9Mm41HUhLU4VPS1rbSvZ8OiSy_2-VL7T6F943VKi7YKRC2x7MbG6gNoEmyFmZoHnpEnU8n5iOOCaxuaHwWM9a57Qoix2BG7U3fTGzJEOoVMxBeTXj7YEqrIOg3LXLIFvPL2gTg8cG2A_tO9JaphfEIT_rVeb-t3inEdu_Q8N7JvfNUZVsmvDfw/w300-h400/IMG_9455.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Hagrid's Hut & Hogwarts</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We hiked around Claichaig Inn and, without sounding like a broken record, gaped in awe at the sights. We also hiked to the site of Hagrid's hut! The hut was built and filmed from this location, so we tried to summon the spirit of Hagrid. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We later visited the famous Jacobite Steam Train, which we all know as Hogwarts Express. The Potterheads were in their bliss.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPruEH3Qk6h7ASY9hM22KHVEzn_pFhwbW3L3SJ3BJGS6Vdl60cTK35tSWtrmU4Zc9gO0xvb7IThcWNBqsDHhxPH_q82ol5MXF5IwDHCJRzefi_YN4tp_c74kBwxe7V383aJWg5_RAiu6lOOC8UK0V3-DPTahT5vyFFHgjQgMa2dcS_y0iWy7TUpeX7Pw/s4032/IMG_9555.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPruEH3Qk6h7ASY9hM22KHVEzn_pFhwbW3L3SJ3BJGS6Vdl60cTK35tSWtrmU4Zc9gO0xvb7IThcWNBqsDHhxPH_q82ol5MXF5IwDHCJRzefi_YN4tp_c74kBwxe7V383aJWg5_RAiu6lOOC8UK0V3-DPTahT5vyFFHgjQgMa2dcS_y0iWy7TUpeX7Pw/w400-h300/IMG_9555.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pretending to be Hagrid</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Inns</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tonight's inn in Pitlochry is my favorite. Take a look at this beauty, which boasts lovely, well appointed rooms in an idyllic setting. But also... As I write from my room upstairs at 11:18p, the pub is still ROCKIN' downstairs. This may be a lengthy post.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuD0fOuOIVl1UFJ5iF32xH8L1u4I29Xwo4k7gI8bhHS2SOVJUzYTJ2tNPa2mD-zGuTfX4Q5BC0DR_VKFJXtft98sxa2X1YebGGUAKo08LdGZwxMAux_4EBudrjGBQcriV9dC3WjfpZQES000wMG3KBBbuXS_wsYmgMcdydXbqgdpuoi_-25jo1POwifQ/s4032/IMG_9648.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2518" data-original-width="4032" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuD0fOuOIVl1UFJ5iF32xH8L1u4I29Xwo4k7gI8bhHS2SOVJUzYTJ2tNPa2mD-zGuTfX4Q5BC0DR_VKFJXtft98sxa2X1YebGGUAKo08LdGZwxMAux_4EBudrjGBQcriV9dC3WjfpZQES000wMG3KBBbuXS_wsYmgMcdydXbqgdpuoi_-25jo1POwifQ/w400-h250/IMG_9648.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Tour Guide and Hostess with the Mostest</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Meg and Kathleen (formally, Drs. Ramey and Burt) are an excellent pair. I have learned loads about Scottish history, culture, food (Steak pie! Cullen skink!), and music (hello Jimmy Shand) and they've organized a great adventure for us. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Give <a href="https://www.worldkindlearning.com/" target="_blank">WorldKind</a> a try if you want to travel with a group (or lead a group) or the many other educational offerings on their website.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Update: Pub is still rockin' downstairs at 11:47p. We're at the Proud Mary stage of the evening. </i></span></div><div></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-3377215850898100092022-07-13T13:14:00.007-04:002022-07-13T13:14:59.870-04:00Ceilidhs, Castles, and Camaraderie<div><span style="font-size: medium;">Preachers are required to be alliterative and offer 3 points, so today I give you 'Ceilidhs, Castles, and Camaraderie'.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Ceilidh (pronouced 'kay-lee')</span></u></b></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Last night we went to a ceilidh in Edinburgh. Ceilidh dancing is part of Scottish culture, and according to me, is a gigantic joy. One way to imagine a ceilidh is extremely spirited square dancing (<i>but not really</i>). You switch partners a zillion times and the musicians teach the dance moves at the beginning of each song.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">As a perfectionist, I don't really like to do things I don't know how to do and ceilidh dancing is one of those things. But I am on holiday, and it's good to bust out every now and again. I was determined to dance, and not to be cheesy, but I wanted to dance not just to dance but to remind myself to live a little (!) and that you don't have to be perfect at something to try it. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">When we arrived, the ballroom was full of Scots of all ages. It was hot and there was an aroma (!), but the body odor was overpowered by joy. I know, it's cheesy, but everyone was having such fun. I loved it.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I watched for awhile and was nervous to try, but my friends finally convinced me to hit the dance floor. I'm glad I did.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Im3_Z7WZ9CspI4yl5MYCHplM6Y1RlJDXdu_6q2OuqqHt5IHVqZixniran08ObwYdRUnJ4VOzC_CbK8qi4-vdSPLxnhIwmlty66zPMkOlsqt6Mtos0hWaW-gU92hsvVv3ymmIiAg6Tf9xvT4pYHzzx9TfSP2o5rrOpKIHtfY3NEY5bsBquKI7y3mekg/s2048/293437147_417231333763617_4133830172433487254_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Im3_Z7WZ9CspI4yl5MYCHplM6Y1RlJDXdu_6q2OuqqHt5IHVqZixniran08ObwYdRUnJ4VOzC_CbK8qi4-vdSPLxnhIwmlty66zPMkOlsqt6Mtos0hWaW-gU92hsvVv3ymmIiAg6Tf9xvT4pYHzzx9TfSP2o5rrOpKIHtfY3NEY5bsBquKI7y3mekg/w320-h400/293437147_417231333763617_4133830172433487254_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It seems I had a wee bit of fun. Photo cred: Meg</i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Castles</u></span></b></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">We visited both <a href="https://www.historicenvironment.scot/visit-a-place/places/doune-castle/history/" target="_blank">Doune Castle</a> and <a href="https://www.stirlingcastle.scot/" target="_blank">Stirling Castle</a> this week. Both were incredible. I thought Doune Castle was only a shell, but I was quite wrong! Contained inside is a mountain of history! Mary Queen of Scots stayed here! </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02PD8q-WOpeDZKQW3CZru-kvwmEvPLNijY2ABbO0j_4xElAmHhOMcQ3f9AYyC8b9dqZOdGU2tGNaex0TiXLf0s37DKUCWJO0UKACP7EjXokgjn69RaUBimILDsL7OcOPUzd9Iq4tbrlB3KisJblZmHykDz_ahK4uVNcEJhbv53BZMoLtj1vUrnWaqag/s4032/IMG_4362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02PD8q-WOpeDZKQW3CZru-kvwmEvPLNijY2ABbO0j_4xElAmHhOMcQ3f9AYyC8b9dqZOdGU2tGNaex0TiXLf0s37DKUCWJO0UKACP7EjXokgjn69RaUBimILDsL7OcOPUzd9Iq4tbrlB3KisJblZmHykDz_ahK4uVNcEJhbv53BZMoLtj1vUrnWaqag/w300-h400/IMG_4362.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Doune Castle was a treat! Photo cred: Holly</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Stirling Castle was a marvel, and as I understand it, a favorite of many who visit Scotland. It played a major role in the history of Scotland, as it afforded views for miles. If you don't know much about the history of Scotland, rewind about 800ish years and get to know Robert the Bruce. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Camaraderie</span></u></b></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I love our group. We are 2 Scots, 2 Canadians, and 7 Americans. I wouldn't trade a one of them. I have loved hearing their stories and learning about their work. We have talked religion and politics. I have seen pictures of their families. These people are fun and funny. They are helping me look for a Baptist church that needs a pastor in Scotland! Cross your fingers.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I worried about coming by myself, but it was all for naught. I have been included (and photographed!) every minute of the day. I'm glad I said yes to the trip. It's been very good for me.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm having the best time. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAtaBlsfEwjiyVYTTOSmjaxZaVG_MaDcdLqdVHh69M_46rjpPpgL9ymBqeuKrXqh-crGndyjlyD-FSbfB_XRP3CalY2FkXYEVsNT4rWoJXYji104BmA4Z2bPMChSGz-anPrpXLF2XvWZDTHfvlsxfycXNBArNOL_VIHihbI-ExgcksHim34Oz8aBiNCw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="2048" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAtaBlsfEwjiyVYTTOSmjaxZaVG_MaDcdLqdVHh69M_46rjpPpgL9ymBqeuKrXqh-crGndyjlyD-FSbfB_XRP3CalY2FkXYEVsNT4rWoJXYji104BmA4Z2bPMChSGz-anPrpXLF2XvWZDTHfvlsxfycXNBArNOL_VIHihbI-ExgcksHim34Oz8aBiNCw=w400-h209" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A photo of us with Scotland's own Jimmy Shand, a favorite artist of our tour guide, Kathleen</i></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-14065302176415269422022-07-10T17:32:00.008-04:002022-07-10T17:49:13.306-04:00Bonnie Scotland<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They call it bonnie Scotland for good reason. It's lovely. <br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The lion share of Saturday afternoon was spent at the Alva Highland Games. What a wonderful experience! I'd read about caber tossing, but seeing it in person was amazing! Basically, a fella in a kilt picks up a telephone pole, balances it, runs, and then attempts to flip it. Many were able to run with the pole, but flipping is another story. We only saw one fella (we dubbed him "Green Socks") who was able to do it. Green Socks was also excellent at other sports. He had a following, not a few of which were in our group.<br /><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Today (Sunday) was spent in the Trossachs. We visited the πΆπΆ<i>bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond </i></span><span>πΆπΆ where we took a wee cruise. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hTq0PUuFbGGppPRSQVKj42csqWrykd0jZx-ckezi_ng1-jiq-xJAu6ybuUgwiaD4LlTuEp40if0_B-xHC2jZ4To4GPS_bPCVg-njoP_H1j-ptc-EcYbjyH3uAajefSvh40qQ4XlCjt2UM8_-2jYhyCLwGrXtmjqs5AVqdhL8mHLITca3BKid_4w1FQ/s1872/Loch%20Lomond.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1872" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hTq0PUuFbGGppPRSQVKj42csqWrykd0jZx-ckezi_ng1-jiq-xJAu6ybuUgwiaD4LlTuEp40if0_B-xHC2jZ4To4GPS_bPCVg-njoP_H1j-ptc-EcYbjyH3uAajefSvh40qQ4XlCjt2UM8_-2jYhyCLwGrXtmjqs5AVqdhL8mHLITca3BKid_4w1FQ/w400-h210/Loch%20Lomond.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">The views were stunning (!); however, I lost my phone on the </span><span style="text-align: left;">πΆπΆ</span><i style="text-align: left;">bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond </i><span style="text-align: left;">πΆπΆ. Our group of 11 was as sweet as sticky toffee pudding (Scottish treat!) and helped me look for it, but Katie's phone was not to be found. So, along with new friends, I also now have many personal photographers.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">But wait (!)...the wee cruise captain discovered my phone and will deliver it to our hotel on Tuesday! If he didn't snap at least 100 selfies on the </span><span style="text-align: left;">πΆπΆ</span><i style="text-align: left;">bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond </i><span style="text-align: left;">πΆπΆ I will be severely disappointed.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We enjoyed lunch at the Drover's Inn, which was built in 1705. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4v4mNxb9lWv88IS-dtGOiOd7jxrl46s2X46dt3P-wICZFX8RfBULJWwwIDSF9NvCN5_fzY4MN6c8tSxiAjtYPazZURXuq4pizDStoW1iPEcPHK991Z5Kx8d8jx1_bq1yGvcAP2oFSoazWy6EL9bExgN1uCVgtVGtqt_rhf-mjVnAgksc8uMlVnDtWA/s1872/Drovers%20Inn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1872" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4v4mNxb9lWv88IS-dtGOiOd7jxrl46s2X46dt3P-wICZFX8RfBULJWwwIDSF9NvCN5_fzY4MN6c8tSxiAjtYPazZURXuq4pizDStoW1iPEcPHK991Z5Kx8d8jx1_bq1yGvcAP2oFSoazWy6EL9bExgN1uCVgtVGtqt_rhf-mjVnAgksc8uMlVnDtWA/w400-h210/Drovers%20Inn.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The afternoon concluded by meeting Highland dairy cows. Many in our group were waiting for this moment with bated breath, but not me. I finally threw caution to the wind and fed not-wee Hamish here a carrot.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ99htGzEb2Haa5n1Obl_QBZITJrX9cjhpvsatHnp94t7dk0zCMICUmLffzopUiXR1BsIzyU2ts_6JZtHfMNBOQhxoIJ96yPUND1Lyr3YX2oACrhgz1V5uyxN8NemKRNFGYa6uthmNS9LNXNVIchY_NykJwjrfaqiCkc7N8Fhpzj84vNxKFJWXST9XYA/s1872/Heeland%20Cows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1872" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ99htGzEb2Haa5n1Obl_QBZITJrX9cjhpvsatHnp94t7dk0zCMICUmLffzopUiXR1BsIzyU2ts_6JZtHfMNBOQhxoIJ96yPUND1Lyr3YX2oACrhgz1V5uyxN8NemKRNFGYa6uthmNS9LNXNVIchY_NykJwjrfaqiCkc7N8Fhpzj84vNxKFJWXST9XYA/w400-h210/Heeland%20Cows.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tonight we are in Stirling, and what a lovely city it is! After dinner we walked around the city to see the castle, church, graveyard, and grounds. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am loving the group vibe, and have enjoyed hearing their stories and perspectives. I am glad I am here meeting new people and trying new things. Doing something new and different is a good way to clear out the cobwebs. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm grateful.</span></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-15745659388592877552022-07-08T00:46:00.002-04:002022-07-08T01:32:15.994-04:00Every Good Adventure Begins with Cheese<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm on my way to Scotland as I type...sort of. My flight is delayed until 2:24a, but it's all good. I'm grateful the flight wasn't <strike>cancelled</strike> canceled (in honor of the UK).</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And interestingly enough I'm traveling to Scotland because of a trip I took to Turkey!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As a seminary student, I traveled to Turkey with classmates to visit the 7 churches of Revelation. Allow me to chase a Turkey rabbit for a moment: If you travel to Turkey, get thyself to Ephesus. It's a marvel. Scripture comes alive there. Please visit Ephesus (!); however, no church could top Thyatira for Katie. Thyatira is the home of Lydia (Acts 16) and Lydia was likely a pastor of a house church there. My friend Meg and I were so excited we donned purple cloth for the occasion!</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXfbYSC5SWQUkl-Qm9aNawfVi15FtNYYVRfUX0_jgkpRiMpgtaXck13uuFrNTZhny4TCAmHwAKiazCXX4adTMAPTM56a6HLMZXVVZo2WpyuLFp8-hpLJ5uKo5y92M84H9De8Ow0a6TPYKoqbhUaFdQ0hKE59cBNjyfUO3v1DtAHWuumUfRsPu8RTuag/s2560/29365807_10101206974380832_7932982789610143744_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXfbYSC5SWQUkl-Qm9aNawfVi15FtNYYVRfUX0_jgkpRiMpgtaXck13uuFrNTZhny4TCAmHwAKiazCXX4adTMAPTM56a6HLMZXVVZo2WpyuLFp8-hpLJ5uKo5y92M84H9De8Ow0a6TPYKoqbhUaFdQ0hKE59cBNjyfUO3v1DtAHWuumUfRsPu8RTuag/w320-h240/29365807_10101206974380832_7932982789610143744_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Meg, Katie, and the spirit of Lydia at Thyatira</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Fast forward 15 years and Meg (now Dr. Ramey!) has her own travel company. Meg planned a group trip to Scotland, I signed up, and I'm on my way! <i>(Well, I will be at 2:24a)</i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm excited (!), but I'm nervous too: This trip is a first for me as I'm traveling alone. Yes, I know Meg and I'm excited to see her, but I don't know anyone else in the group. I'm an extrovert, but I still get nervous. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>But</b>, I'm not really traveling alone. I'm taking little pieces of my friends and family with me (this is the cheesy part):</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Kourtney</span> helped me select a fun crossbody bag with a guitar strap. I don't understand it, but I like it. She also helped me buy 40 pairs of shoes for Scotland weather. I returned 39, but she gets it. </span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Pam</span> sent me 20 pounds (currency!) in the mail to spend. Queen Elizabeth is burning a hole in my pocket.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Randi</span> has been educating me on Scottish history, foods, and music.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Leslie</span> is welcoming me into her Scottish home before I set off with the group.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Mom</span> listened to me chatter for an hour while I paced around the airport tonight. Props to Pat.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Mary</span> loaned me the best backpack in the world. It's stylish and the pockets are AMAZING. I'm of the age that pocket choice and arrangement amaze me. Mary also drove me to the airport. Does she have time to drive me to Dulles? No. But did she make time? Yes. She also helped me book a new flight when the delay made things complicated. Mary doesn't play. She offered to drive me to Baltimore and I almost fainted. Baltimore might as well be California in terms of distance from DC. True friend alert.</span></li></ul></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpQJdX9gt-Jqxf7ofbyP9q48QYs9YPW7HfVduJYwMPKThVxHc5a7_MmVKdfLpKaNfhud-cRj0pDmSmWxnn8Xa-WbsyUU6ue3N1FFQnqdXHcItdlN3La9TaOPIdz9g5NHdE87rcvgSMaB3GCuuz-ptpni7CqnrAmxLKS1pkp0B9-SrfdV9K2QU6JqJDtQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpQJdX9gt-Jqxf7ofbyP9q48QYs9YPW7HfVduJYwMPKThVxHc5a7_MmVKdfLpKaNfhud-cRj0pDmSmWxnn8Xa-WbsyUU6ue3N1FFQnqdXHcItdlN3La9TaOPIdz9g5NHdE87rcvgSMaB3GCuuz-ptpni7CqnrAmxLKS1pkp0B9-SrfdV9K2QU6JqJDtQ=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mary at Dulles. Only true friends drive you to Dulles and that's the truth.<br /></i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm grateful and excited! </span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-35007355706530121912022-06-05T17:44:00.005-04:002022-06-05T22:25:30.661-04:00Lessons Learned From Pulpit-Supplying<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">At least twice a month I supply preach for churches, which means at least twice a month I'm a church visitor. I'm an extrovert and a pastor, so you'd think it'd be easy; but sometimes it isn't. Like other visitors, I often don't know where to go, which door to choose, or where to sit. I see people looking at me and wondering who I am. Most of the time the stares are innocent, but rarely are they followed up with a greeting.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't so much care about Katie getting lost or Katie not being greeted, but I do care about those who've shown up to worship for the first time in awhile (or ever). They are visiting with family, or maybe they're curious about faith. Is Christianity is what they've heard it is (for better or worse)? Maybe a personal crisis brought them back. Maybe they want community. Whatever the reason, they've showed up, so we (the church) have got to bend over backwards to make them feel at home.</span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">This doesn't mean to attack them with weirdness. </span></b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 15px;">BE COOL, EVERYONE. </span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's not easy being a visitor, which is why I want to celebrate the church where I preached on Sunday. Here's a list of what they did well:</span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">The Deacon Chair was there to greet me upon my arrival. It was easy to know where to go and what to do, because she was ready for me. Is your church ready for visitors (in person and online)?</span></li></ul><div style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">The Deacon Chair introduced me to the worship pastor and worship leaders. Do you seek out visitors and introduce them to others?</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">A dad with his young son sat in the back. The dad was baptized last week and was grinning from ear to ear. It was easy to see how the church made him feel at home. Do you make people new to your church feel at home? </span></li></ul><div style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Women and men were leading in every aspect of worship. <i>(Also, don't assume small and/or rural churches are led only by men.)</i></span></li></ul><div><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></i></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">After the service, they sought to connect with me. One senior adult showed me his Nationals socks. Another couple talked about living in DC. </span></li></ul><div style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I was immediately invited to lunch with a group of 6 seniors (Boomer, Silent, and Greatest Generation!). They shared about their lives and asked me about mine. Do you welcome people to <u>your </u>table? Invite newcomers to lunch with you? <i>This is a huge deal. Welcoming people to your table is not only fun; it's biblical! Why have we gotten out of the habit?</i></span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></div></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj"><span style="font-family: arial;">Which steps forward will you take?</span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj"><span style="font-family: arial;">Shout out to this awesome church. May their tribe increase.</span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>PS: Post a greeter in the parking lot (if you haven't already). We truly don't know which of the 12 doors to enter.</i></span></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-21561873679016283932021-08-28T11:21:00.000-04:002021-08-28T11:21:49.597-04:00I do my best writing when I'm angry.<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I do my best writing when I'm angry, and I don't really like being angry. </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Go figure.</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> So, a lot of what I write stays in draft folders and journals because it feels mean, and it isn't particularly helpful to anyone but me. Some of you somehow combine mean and funny (kudos to you!), but I seem to only be able to combine mean and direct. This does not seem to be the best combination to compel others, and it reads as self-righteous (and likely is). </span></p><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm trying to learn to distinguish between righteous anger and unrighteous anger in my life. I know the difference in definition; it's the application part that gets me. Also, I seem to be able to combine the two at times. Is that helpful? Maybe. But what is my motivation? Helping or shaming others? </div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Righteous anger is typically anger on behalf of others, anger that sees injustice, anger that wants better for the marginalized. Unrighteous anger seeks to score points andβindirectly or directlyβhopes to shame others. I'm not really interested in doing that. Well, if I'm honest, I am a little bit interested in doing that (shaming jerks), but again, it's not really helpful. It simply encourages me to congratulate myself for not being a jerk (when I'm maybe being a jerk). Go away irony! </span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It's good to write because no matter my feelings or motivations, writing helps me understand what I think and why I think it. And even if I'm being a jerk, it's good to write the jerkiness down, but it is probably not good to share it with anyone but God. Maybe it should only be a whiny lament to God, who will no doubt help me see better and through a lens of grace; rather than a whiny rant to you (and everyone! this is the world wide web!) that is helpful to no one.</div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So, I'm trying to develop a list of questions for myself that will guide what I post. Here goes:</div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>What is my goal here? </li><li>Am I trying to help bring peace, or am I trying to be clever?</li><li>Am I helping or hurting?</li><li>Am I trying to shame a jerk or am I being a jerk (or both)?</li><li>Is this a prayer of lament meant only for God?</li></ul></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I'm working on this. I haven't really figured it out, but I'll keep trying.</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-70385541490285691132021-06-17T20:25:00.000-04:002021-06-17T20:25:07.396-04:00Gravedigging Pastors<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">Job descriptions for pastors are a fascinating read. It can be difficult to understand what we do. I get that; but some of the most meaningful work pastors do can't be described on a list.</span></span></p><div class="gmail-" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Tonight I'm thinking of a pastor who helped dig a grave to cut expenses for a family. Funerals can be costly, and not everyone can cobble the funds together to make it happen. </span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This pastor made it happen. </span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Pastors are not perfect (not even close!), but some of the best are serving in the early morning hours, before you arrive at the gravesite, before you eat the casserole at the reception. They dig because they love. The best pastors serve humbly out of love. </span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="gmail-" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="gmail-_1mf gmail-_1mj" style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Never have I seen 'gravedigger' on a job description, and yet this is a pastor who reminds me of Jesus.</span></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-88072522272050710982021-06-08T11:43:00.012-04:002021-06-09T11:55:13.530-04:00My Ordination Can Get a Learner's Permit<p><span>This week I'm celebrating the anniversary of my baptism (28 years) and my ordination (15 years). My baptism can rent a car and my ordination can get a learner's permit, so some reminiscing felt in order.</span></p><div><span>To prepare for baptism, I got a new outfit at Walmart. It was peach, white, and light blue and had a matching peach bucket hat (I blame Ug from 'Salute Your Shorts'). The outfit was important to me because we were baptized in our plain-clothes. I'm a robe-wearing baptiz<i>er</i> now, but I like the idea of a plain-clothes baptismβthat we die to our regular, 24/7 bucket-hat wearing selves.<br /><br />Making a profession of faith was a big deal to me. It wasn't a brave decision; I grew up in the buckle of the Bible Belt (!), but it did feel weighty. I now know this initial faith decision was preparing me for the next weighty decision 14 years later: Ordination to gospel ministry. Knowing no examples of ordained women growing up, I could've scarcely imagined <i>participating</i> in the laying on of hands, much less receiving them. </span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>But look at God.<br /></span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>My ordination was joyful, but againβweighty. I have a distinct memory of feeling the heaviness of friends' and family's hands on my head. What an apt picture of ministry! So then, having graduated with my Master of Divinity <i>and</i> having survived the ordination council of Calvary Baptist (!), I was then as ready as I could be to begin at Memorial Baptist in Arlington, VA. </span></div><div><div><div><span><br />15 years of Christian vocational ministry feels like the right amount, with 3 distinct seasons of serving the Lord. Each year has been weighty and joyful, full of challenge, fun, doubt, celebration, beauty, and friendship. I am grateful. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>The most meaningful moments of ministry have been those when I am completely, 100% dependent upon God in the thin places between heaven and earth: Praying with hospice patients, cradling newborn babies and blessing them, singing with beloved friends in the ICU, sitting with church members as they mourn or doubt, baptizing adults and children new to faith, preaching my own fears and joys. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>In this season, I'm working on relying on God more; for that's when the weight provides meaning <i>instead of</i> stress. It's taken awhile to learn this. I still have much to learn, and yet miraculously God gives me opportunities to shepherd those along the way in my current role. I am still surprised when ministers and friends, often older and wiser, ask for guidance. It is humbling and weighty and joyful.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I am grateful today for family, friends, and mentors who teach me about Jesus and light the way. My parents, brothers, and sisters-in-law are dear to me, and bend over backwards to support and love me. Thank you. Thank you to all the churches who've been part of my journey. Each one has blessed me: Beaver Dam Baptist (KY), Faith Baptist (KY), Calvary Baptist (TX), Memorial Baptist (VA), Scottsville Baptist (VA), and Church at Clarendon (VA).</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>And most importantly, thanks be to God.</span></div><div></div></div></div></div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-73650025255424018222021-02-12T20:52:00.007-05:002021-02-12T21:57:08.502-05:00My Uncle Tom<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In November, my Uncle Tom had COVID which developed into double pneumonia. He miraculously recovered and was able to go home, but eventually his health took a turn for the worse and he died on Wednesday. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />I didn't know Uncle Tom was different until I was older. I only knew he liked to play with toys, and enjoyed coloring with Ben and me. Slowly I began to understand Tom had special needs. I don't remember it being spelled out for me; I only remember he was family and that we loved him.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuPp-dsf6s7VTVzHQ5CBl1kIv8z8_FSS3VExbNRRZ1tTynJZAe4-MxhFX5fWpsyaafLUaHfv3Rbsh86rA7FI5gD3Hy6QJ1UBjFzMxRo7f3TmBjhgFM8GycX-f02ec1llgqgWb9qgZ4Fkl/s2048/IMG_3747.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuPp-dsf6s7VTVzHQ5CBl1kIv8z8_FSS3VExbNRRZ1tTynJZAe4-MxhFX5fWpsyaafLUaHfv3Rbsh86rA7FI5gD3Hy6QJ1UBjFzMxRo7f3TmBjhgFM8GycX-f02ec1llgqgWb9qgZ4Fkl/w400-h300/IMG_3747.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Tom loved his sisters and his parents. Tom worked for 40 years at a tape factory with his dad. He liked Batman. Dairy Queen Dilly Bars were his favorite; Dad would take a bag full to Tom and his friends. Often we'd visit Tom when I was home for Christmas, and he was either in a great mood or a not-great mood (I can relate). Either way we'd end up getting ice cream.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I am thinking of Tom this evening, and I wanted to tell you about him. I am grateful for Tom's life, and for my parents for loving him.</span></div><div></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-91332451916695605912020-11-01T20:32:00.016-05:002020-11-02T00:00:03.421-05:0040 Favorite Birthday Memories<div class="separator" style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0KkoRzH45qVasug-chDxMpF1Gm0Urwv_9gpzaoEGkhgU5a1MeaTjj19eVfR_lnd5t9zXk_4AK2LfpHVj3wp9Zyukvr45J0aCPR0zloHpaSW0_iLrLaZhs0ODT2z66Z95ohx4-4ZkXg3x/s4240/so+glad+to+see+santi.jpg" style="font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0KkoRzH45qVasug-chDxMpF1Gm0Urwv_9gpzaoEGkhgU5a1MeaTjj19eVfR_lnd5t9zXk_4AK2LfpHVj3wp9Zyukvr45J0aCPR0zloHpaSW0_iLrLaZhs0ODT2z66Z95ohx4-4ZkXg3x/w320-h214/so+glad+to+see+santi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I once did an entire sermon series on the number 40. It's everywhere. Jesus fasted for 40 days. Moses was atop Mt. Sinai for 40 days. Jesus ascended 40 days after his resurrection from the dead. The Israelites wandered for 40 years. </span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In scripture 40 signals a kind of change: After 40 days, the devil departed, Moses left Mt. Sinai, and Jesus ascended. After 40 years the promised land was within sight.</span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe that's why turning 40 feels so significant. What kind of change will it mean for me?</span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't know, but <i>I do know</i> 40 began with a bang thanks to my family, my pastor friends, my DC friends, and my work friends. ClichΓ© alert: The best things in life aren't things. Relationship with God and relationship with others is it. Nothing compares. </span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm not sure what's ahead, but <i>I am sure</i> these people, these relationships will continue to enrich my life. Here are 40 favorite memories to share with you from October 2020:</span></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Celebrating Mary Dee, Eleanor, and Aunt Katie in Kentucky. Eating cake made by my sister-in-law Jaime.</span></b></li></ul><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTqvkkAe6j0-GTVer2IGfUxUxIVkVwnRC2MMpOY_afJhOqjsalbib1jQHfVhvwWh7ObxKUGz2Y5sIrtDUyQx0wxi2iMcMWNbvi7_aXRdOZZIg8u7zUgQ9zIbh4BvX1QyV7px3UIrBS2KDn/s320/IMG_1879.jpg" style="color: #0000ee; text-align: center;" /><br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium; font-weight: 700; text-align: left;">Socially-distanced dining with my parents in Kentucky.</span></li></ul><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6i56p9tzKUgO6FU_PJYTHZtPIZ94TmQXExFQYuS_u-XfFrw4pY75kEONEjm2g1Aoxk1ugKPFDDGISWu8Inzp0UwuLcPRf6EGyKt6AiYxu2obyqqSMRAZjIS07ynsZhZmqvDKIlEaPpNo/s2739/IMG_1949.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2739" data-original-width="2545" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6i56p9tzKUgO6FU_PJYTHZtPIZ94TmQXExFQYuS_u-XfFrw4pY75kEONEjm2g1Aoxk1ugKPFDDGISWu8Inzp0UwuLcPRf6EGyKt6AiYxu2obyqqSMRAZjIS07ynsZhZmqvDKIlEaPpNo/s320/IMG_1949.jpg" /></span></a></p><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Finding my Mom's Master's Thesis in the attic. Major props, Pat. </b></span></li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNA-4uYDYRrpHAaarIgd5hcq3SctEfutaHeHEhbcFLcQZho3dRjWVFizx82yt_sSrPcvgQdyHiUuDWQRfkGjrK1_8e9TG63yStb5LzPPxuqjoChi-K8vtFRoiG-yM8DcgvAUPNOtWZMCSB/s2048/IMG_1953.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNA-4uYDYRrpHAaarIgd5hcq3SctEfutaHeHEhbcFLcQZho3dRjWVFizx82yt_sSrPcvgQdyHiUuDWQRfkGjrK1_8e9TG63yStb5LzPPxuqjoChi-K8vtFRoiG-yM8DcgvAUPNOtWZMCSB/s320/IMG_1953.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul></ul></div><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Kourtney popped on down to Beaver Dam while I was in Kentucky because she is an all-star friend. Here she is with a slotted spoon of her brother's.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyeNx3G6Rt-92Nhm-XIKTvL5juRwnFmA7dSc5PKsn0AARykkTieM70SDWbUtBj4hT7MlWS9eOdh0eF5eIClmQIlnz69Uzo5_kV9W5GrcMEJbbV_UoDcAu__7s1nAFHC4CZh5Y693g7Ty-/s2048/IMG_1863.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyeNx3G6Rt-92Nhm-XIKTvL5juRwnFmA7dSc5PKsn0AARykkTieM70SDWbUtBj4hT7MlWS9eOdh0eF5eIClmQIlnz69Uzo5_kV9W5GrcMEJbbV_UoDcAu__7s1nAFHC4CZh5Y693g7Ty-/s320/IMG_1863.jpg" /></span></a></div><div></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Surprise Harry Potter dinner with my pastor pals. Gah. I love them. </b></span></li></ul></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYI9XyXfnJ8yc9HcYrThW9aicoc72ORXUV6MieMaIMJTEulQPiul2T6h11CksqeVJhvkExZuT3PHqWcGvsuZkLGDNT5nSJIHL6E4F1SNwOGa_gPtpIvsHXM6acg6YnnuxjAjA5vmi1rJI/s1440/3F13F3CA-0969-4E69-8367-89AC37B021ED.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYI9XyXfnJ8yc9HcYrThW9aicoc72ORXUV6MieMaIMJTEulQPiul2T6h11CksqeVJhvkExZuT3PHqWcGvsuZkLGDNT5nSJIHL6E4F1SNwOGa_gPtpIvsHXM6acg6YnnuxjAjA5vmi1rJI/s320/3F13F3CA-0969-4E69-8367-89AC37B021ED.JPG" width="320" /></a> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b style="color: #800180;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The decor was nothing short of inspiring. Shout out Dianna.</span></b></li></ul><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK2T6dTmkBOeM0x3SLNuSTNlXswjhWF4mLteF4tb_8uFzY728psWoZv-qHmgVvfqRbaIrefvhkWSofwG0kHXBGnXpDNgsW6bRW-bmkWoT4HOIAo7oJklLnJqTKWRwVWXO4RwNe7HP-co6/s2048/IMG_2058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK2T6dTmkBOeM0x3SLNuSTNlXswjhWF4mLteF4tb_8uFzY728psWoZv-qHmgVvfqRbaIrefvhkWSofwG0kHXBGnXpDNgsW6bRW-bmkWoT4HOIAo7oJklLnJqTKWRwVWXO4RwNe7HP-co6/s320/IMG_2058.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>The snacks were adorable. Have yourself a golden snitch.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrP_KeHMl9x4VyMGzhpKfPqpagEw9Vj6OFM_stFDnbPRSf8MWkE93fn29I2ugOkG-lBCs5m_zBsPsyh-W5Q1WPnwo-vIt744D6VEuG5sDakr4TGOc2QOIp6vEJy4nYyLj0CyjuRLbL435/s2048/IMG_2089.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrP_KeHMl9x4VyMGzhpKfPqpagEw9Vj6OFM_stFDnbPRSf8MWkE93fn29I2ugOkG-lBCs5m_zBsPsyh-W5Q1WPnwo-vIt744D6VEuG5sDakr4TGOc2QOIp6vEJy4nYyLj0CyjuRLbL435/s320/IMG_2089.JPG" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Bruce baked this cake from scratch and Alessandra added the Harry Potter lettering. That chocolate frosting is the best I've tasted.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9sMU2Ki-aFxcPeUVMRd-PcBcZEEiYNEwHAIQ1EF_LYFGVBV4ufNw3OrVIvMJB9N7EAhFlJzOMw1naa37eydLTACzCBohPo1lqSmaMfTEG4UqtciK1wmg0LpEOqGEywDi0OSeeMNx5Knp/s2048/IMG_2093+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9sMU2Ki-aFxcPeUVMRd-PcBcZEEiYNEwHAIQ1EF_LYFGVBV4ufNw3OrVIvMJB9N7EAhFlJzOMw1naa37eydLTACzCBohPo1lqSmaMfTEG4UqtciK1wmg0LpEOqGEywDi0OSeeMNx5Knp/s320/IMG_2093+2.JPG" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday lunch with these all-stars who have dropped everything to help me numerous times. We ate cake (see above) that I put in my trunk for safe-keeping (trunk cake).</b></span></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkygjhsNio_-YQyLLjonWTKrA7VZTdT48LDvG1dzO7AK3LqLmCcf6GiNuEiEMRUfsgZEPDzLl_pcbKfu_T-R8K4sacI3zfgDSjjFfCyyDx-L9h6Eb5Qsjs35x3rz5cuxTUvkqAPNqPPzc/s4032/20C917F8-13FF-491A-BE67-A311CBDC2D1C.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkygjhsNio_-YQyLLjonWTKrA7VZTdT48LDvG1dzO7AK3LqLmCcf6GiNuEiEMRUfsgZEPDzLl_pcbKfu_T-R8K4sacI3zfgDSjjFfCyyDx-L9h6Eb5Qsjs35x3rz5cuxTUvkqAPNqPPzc/s320/20C917F8-13FF-491A-BE67-A311CBDC2D1C.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Later that day I forgot about the cake and it...did not survive the trunk. Sorry trunk cake.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnipGrksGWMa2JfG2Ka9hYoM6dKg5GmIrysxj-3dnY3xPDtrTWD2Om8hTOxj3qNCz0dHN2Q7z_lB_br4maLtLjTZuXcWdzDUWH-HDrjSn0utVl5mO5EawjBDbRXY6FwKE0ls7ri6JU_ev_/s2048/IMG_2112.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnipGrksGWMa2JfG2Ka9hYoM6dKg5GmIrysxj-3dnY3xPDtrTWD2Om8hTOxj3qNCz0dHN2Q7z_lB_br4maLtLjTZuXcWdzDUWH-HDrjSn0utVl5mO5EawjBDbRXY6FwKE0ls7ri6JU_ev_/s320/IMG_2112.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>En route to a work destination I stayed with Bruce and Alessandra in Culpeper. I also convinced Laura and Kenny to bring their brand new RV and park it in Bruce and Alessandra's yard. IT WAS AMAZING.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPPdDN4MxmC9ISrzMMnf7S0UcucUXaJlmXPz5rfpsJFwJzxSY0ZC5CMPjBVwYLDKVAhMiBIg57kwbhg65NqmdpGb9x5Q9ObbFU0CXGj-XZY4h7-LxttYeDes_Ev_w4ml4zsG3DJRHC2yK/s4032/IMG_2141.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPPdDN4MxmC9ISrzMMnf7S0UcucUXaJlmXPz5rfpsJFwJzxSY0ZC5CMPjBVwYLDKVAhMiBIg57kwbhg65NqmdpGb9x5Q9ObbFU0CXGj-XZY4h7-LxttYeDes_Ev_w4ml4zsG3DJRHC2yK/s320/IMG_2141.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Jam session at Bruce and Alessandra's house (in masks!)</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzccwhjmpmRwkUvPwc76PeGjyWdi-esfBwOzXH1achDPdbtiqV6xy_gjLcaiRxIQBs-mvZT1KoLxbq2eph89uCDtfuqufn1LqmEUOpP2-6PiLYODpVuZf9kTqpjPg05qj73mdNIyF5LcY/s2048/IMG_2151.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzccwhjmpmRwkUvPwc76PeGjyWdi-esfBwOzXH1achDPdbtiqV6xy_gjLcaiRxIQBs-mvZT1KoLxbq2eph89uCDtfuqufn1LqmEUOpP2-6PiLYODpVuZf9kTqpjPg05qj73mdNIyF5LcY/s320/IMG_2151.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Alessandra and Bruce welcome me into their home no less than 4 nights per month as I travel throughout Virginia. They listen, cook for me, and are two of my favorite people.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-es6hywcpQwPy1d7LGWXIWqh9iElrdl5imlmrZkhrGOWPA4QjHOInJODIGEhZu8lAwnPzSPs9qic9T5EKfVWxbo-cYxdQWXM6FCM9dKXFGG_FihVVn1yX-6fpATVz0jzdb88rekmM6DN/s2048/IMG_2055.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-es6hywcpQwPy1d7LGWXIWqh9iElrdl5imlmrZkhrGOWPA4QjHOInJODIGEhZu8lAwnPzSPs9qic9T5EKfVWxbo-cYxdQWXM6FCM9dKXFGG_FihVVn1yX-6fpATVz0jzdb88rekmM6DN/s320/IMG_2055.jpg" /></span></a></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b style="color: #800180;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Voting. Waited 102 minutes. Worth every one.</span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3iEms361A1-lCE7DmytwseBTpWJH-ITA4rRPWkOZq3fo7tKKJYQVvhJiPldQuvU2ELZnQwtqDJnm1ldHIuZb3kLtk1VIjshe5twopS6kgDHRhTPIpSPeBO5jp0RAxcXOxSJu68lhWyU4/s2048/IMG_2030.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3iEms361A1-lCE7DmytwseBTpWJH-ITA4rRPWkOZq3fo7tKKJYQVvhJiPldQuvU2ELZnQwtqDJnm1ldHIuZb3kLtk1VIjshe5twopS6kgDHRhTPIpSPeBO5jp0RAxcXOxSJu68lhWyU4/s320/IMG_2030.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Aunt Mary sent me these socks.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvGdg1q2CQD7Zdbe1s726INV0HUjKwCspwnxEGFDii6cJz_jt8rzHJP85yDzNoXOjEtvTbludP5Kt_qcc1mk5WCdOt6YnWdM9SHlqrjjSFPixM9au7_IRFQFq-QWTNgGD65-yh-pW0T6H/s2048/IMG_2197.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvGdg1q2CQD7Zdbe1s726INV0HUjKwCspwnxEGFDii6cJz_jt8rzHJP85yDzNoXOjEtvTbludP5Kt_qcc1mk5WCdOt6YnWdM9SHlqrjjSFPixM9au7_IRFQFq-QWTNgGD65-yh-pW0T6H/s320/IMG_2197.JPG" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>I wrote almost 40 entries about turning 40. It was a good exercise. I like to write, and it was good to focus on gratitude. Sometimes it's been difficult to be thankful (especially this year).</b></span></li></ul><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoyCqn9bisWHBZEc04lmc-QEiljznpv0SpGDSblHQDrgbNlT6EwcBm_mSeySWjm9QLVxTzhryysmx9YldjwhUDc7430teK1L69trhZ2ZbezWp9OVxn6bDQQsvusyofy7MsN9rn9Bnbpui/s1440/122242014_10106439842974943_5264645863845938319_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoyCqn9bisWHBZEc04lmc-QEiljznpv0SpGDSblHQDrgbNlT6EwcBm_mSeySWjm9QLVxTzhryysmx9YldjwhUDc7430teK1L69trhZ2ZbezWp9OVxn6bDQQsvusyofy7MsN9rn9Bnbpui/s320/122242014_10106439842974943_5264645863845938319_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Friends sent and gave me the most thoughtful gifts. Thanks Smiths and Tiff/Tif.</b></span></li></ul><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcwke8Aoob4wHwFZju1fE4JP47VIgTrfPf19wUSS6_Y7NUGIXlRfBNYFTl5X7XSmIANNBInfLhhdDMw95yiyZ2kGc9R0KCxwN8ATbcNufEbfiwxTU1QFLUcGFU16VZ4HftK51JAGlYdZG/s1440/123124926_10106451671245993_5850472426921111351_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcwke8Aoob4wHwFZju1fE4JP47VIgTrfPf19wUSS6_Y7NUGIXlRfBNYFTl5X7XSmIANNBInfLhhdDMw95yiyZ2kGc9R0KCxwN8ATbcNufEbfiwxTU1QFLUcGFU16VZ4HftK51JAGlYdZG/s320/123124926_10106451671245993_5850472426921111351_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>My nieces called me to sing Happy Birthday</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsN57IPaLvgPUFWtZVHea3FhChUqmqb4SDDLDQcFhNdWCJmPfhouru_8ZVbfr1rG_5tLDvyKBE027q2H8mJ93Xi8bN-GPOeCCth7CMp8zKA3WdBAMZN9UjeRXkIHzarG_r-bUarQI9Kly/s1792/IMG_2206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsN57IPaLvgPUFWtZVHea3FhChUqmqb4SDDLDQcFhNdWCJmPfhouru_8ZVbfr1rG_5tLDvyKBE027q2H8mJ93Xi8bN-GPOeCCth7CMp8zKA3WdBAMZN9UjeRXkIHzarG_r-bUarQI9Kly/s320/IMG_2206.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b>I am loving early morning walks </b></span><b style="color: #800180;">with Brooke in DC. We see and hear history. It's cold, but we talk, talk, talk (just like West Wing). It's one of my favorite new traditions.</b></span></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdg-STe8Ds30jynbiLx6JTAZy0slPyl_-YnyCC-gKIVw9-HJCPJhX1l71TUmG8OliPX-DN3r7wK-pzhTyWlNbSwh7_AhWAvEeLykel_C5stHXEjeAG6qUxoFS2THpF1OUYstd1bN80ziAo/s1800/BE0E08AC-57AB-44D4-BC83-171436DC9C95+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdg-STe8Ds30jynbiLx6JTAZy0slPyl_-YnyCC-gKIVw9-HJCPJhX1l71TUmG8OliPX-DN3r7wK-pzhTyWlNbSwh7_AhWAvEeLykel_C5stHXEjeAG6qUxoFS2THpF1OUYstd1bN80ziAo/s320/BE0E08AC-57AB-44D4-BC83-171436DC9C95+2.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">In early October I went to a Facebook ColorStreet Nail Party and had the best time. It was so much fun, so I am hosting one myself. I'm posting live videos like they're going out of style. Join us.</span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #800180;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjehGHPxnN0prqHGnBKjZCDYlKPFao7VUjLh3fNcGRdyUBPoCwJJo46Y_K-OWusPgLEj3g9RW6YHW2_EFaxF8PXp0J6-61G_0zFxJ3altuG4JzHkK3dGxRwQgxkK9ta3DFnPuEbySvKaP/s2048/IMG_2117.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1989" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjehGHPxnN0prqHGnBKjZCDYlKPFao7VUjLh3fNcGRdyUBPoCwJJo46Y_K-OWusPgLEj3g9RW6YHW2_EFaxF8PXp0J6-61G_0zFxJ3altuG4JzHkK3dGxRwQgxkK9ta3DFnPuEbySvKaP/s320/IMG_2117.JPG" /></span></a></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Brooke, Mary, Artemia, and Cindy organized an AMAZING, Covid-respecting gathering and parade. It was incredibly meaningful. I could cry just typing about it. There were cards from all over the country (THANK YOU) and a parade of friends from Memorial Baptist, the church that loved and grew me up as a pastor. Here's the beginning of the party where I thought just a few of us (masked and on a porch!) were dressing up Disney style for some cake. Donald Duck (AJ) and Ariel (Katie) enjoy some cheese (Katie) and drooling (AJ).</b></span></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYCO_7qQsI3kc5kPJbcsrM5ZumYHxw1de9zPO5llE9b_oXaFe-HSCGKAQbHcjpx_fpQuk-TXAG-xeAZYnIvn8wSZIe9nwPl-tj9U6B0lxqjToApzvZgpvBJsrUiM0XfJb-Bh8dwNOAMe6/s4240/AJ+and+Katie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4240" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYCO_7qQsI3kc5kPJbcsrM5ZumYHxw1de9zPO5llE9b_oXaFe-HSCGKAQbHcjpx_fpQuk-TXAG-xeAZYnIvn8wSZIe9nwPl-tj9U6B0lxqjToApzvZgpvBJsrUiM0XfJb-Bh8dwNOAMe6/s320/AJ+and+Katie.jpg" /></span></a></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Brooke says "Let's go outside and take pictures! The light is good!" Brooke always says this so we all hop up. Look at this sweet picture of Brooke and her hubby Jason. </span></b></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRic9Quc1-NZPqrcFe1eDhdsmkyKUYrHIWecRKZBaatq_FkD3eUBEObbRhW267PyyWtihnxZXYmaONBp0-nZbIN9TrZ4QMPfVH0FnI9P8lJsinSozdy8NISF9fD4uElzNbu3iMq4YnaAKv/s2457/brooke+and+jason.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="2457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRic9Quc1-NZPqrcFe1eDhdsmkyKUYrHIWecRKZBaatq_FkD3eUBEObbRhW267PyyWtihnxZXYmaONBp0-nZbIN9TrZ4QMPfVH0FnI9P8lJsinSozdy8NISF9fD4uElzNbu3iMq4YnaAKv/s320/brooke+and+jason.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>A pic with the children of my friends. Gah. It's like loving little versions of your favorite people. Please note Ariel's (Ellie's) dinglehopper (fork).</b><b><br /></b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgjEb8_naymu5pmTCORgx_ZsX47WrOQj45V8S-NiLUSFNQna0IsOSgUfioA3UHflnEdhhZg8mHo8L2lRaUjqJh4D0xs6ew-k3lysmGmfPflRIFu1jt-PPUP0YrQIhfgHMUXiREIIqlMvC/s4240/donald+duck.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgjEb8_naymu5pmTCORgx_ZsX47WrOQj45V8S-NiLUSFNQna0IsOSgUfioA3UHflnEdhhZg8mHo8L2lRaUjqJh4D0xs6ew-k3lysmGmfPflRIFu1jt-PPUP0YrQIhfgHMUXiREIIqlMvC/s320/donald+duck.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Then surprise a parade started. All Ariel knew to do was wave. So much love from my friends. Oh my.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3bUIofhjxDmA9VaAJN7q5vTfq3i8haibyoXS7WquutY9jmcuf_ChiBjozZE-wlvPBdj1vSInjnnY8oFHlwzpP7l6Q0JYHtns9EKTqUs68vgAAMFjrdpnuBq6M-zgk8b2ZR07hnA9TrZx/s4240/hi+friends%2521++.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3bUIofhjxDmA9VaAJN7q5vTfq3i8haibyoXS7WquutY9jmcuf_ChiBjozZE-wlvPBdj1vSInjnnY8oFHlwzpP7l6Q0JYHtns9EKTqUs68vgAAMFjrdpnuBq6M-zgk8b2ZR07hnA9TrZx/s320/hi+friends%2521++.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>The cars were decorated FABULOUSLY. This one started the parade. It was, after all, the one year anniversary of the Nats winning the World Series. What a joy to see this couple. I read scripture at their wedding (10?) years ago!</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rXF7Kmovb2p4G6evZc8Vv9DO7akA5EYZ-q7To7DyCuVGQGEq6-KCLzTvd9mfXedZ0mPFchQKbHB9TDzm9CEP6Y4JGg8XP9GffiUPhCYtpIRZxawaipsUMuOfZ8jB6fgaRM7kvpYv37Ot/s4240/go+nats.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rXF7Kmovb2p4G6evZc8Vv9DO7akA5EYZ-q7To7DyCuVGQGEq6-KCLzTvd9mfXedZ0mPFchQKbHB9TDzm9CEP6Y4JGg8XP9GffiUPhCYtpIRZxawaipsUMuOfZ8jB6fgaRM7kvpYv37Ot/s320/go+nats.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">These friends helped me find a place to live when I moved back to northern Virginia. We've been through thick and thin. We also share a love for the Nats.</span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQ_CDsk5lHUq1lO7vZVDm5dQrrH0p9YmWH2-N_gg41GbLwBvyD4lUTmION_xCQY6ZDseNp29GSi3yqaXEKLUicQE8uFcggpAeMCJTh6UQUm3nYbB-8iNihPIWSWT2jDluGJ5Lg6V4aRPS/s4240/brewers1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQ_CDsk5lHUq1lO7vZVDm5dQrrH0p9YmWH2-N_gg41GbLwBvyD4lUTmION_xCQY6ZDseNp29GSi3yqaXEKLUicQE8uFcggpAeMCJTh6UQUm3nYbB-8iNihPIWSWT2jDluGJ5Lg6V4aRPS/s320/brewers1.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">These friends are dear to me. They're gifted with hospitality and humor (among other things). Randi, Mary, and I took a trip to NYC in November and it was the best. </span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSGcaQytKDJxMTliWUIsCqjupWUDQSuargK8WYV0ESYZcOUVltfKKTTqWMINyRLkazrCIHzcJmDG5zkzhW0vT6DVMwHmaQbsa0AI-qzeCk9AwiOnf9eskUWuHO4QDDuywviHDjpNe5yHY/s4240/lordy+lordy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSGcaQytKDJxMTliWUIsCqjupWUDQSuargK8WYV0ESYZcOUVltfKKTTqWMINyRLkazrCIHzcJmDG5zkzhW0vT6DVMwHmaQbsa0AI-qzeCk9AwiOnf9eskUWuHO4QDDuywviHDjpNe5yHY/s320/lordy+lordy.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">This is when the tears began flowing. Colleen made a poster with a picture of Pete on it. We lost Pete not too long ago. I know he would've been at the parade--yelling something hilarious and wanting to talk politics no doubt. I miss him. Adam, Pete's son, is in the car. He was a senior in the youth group at Memorial Baptist when I started there, and returned to mentor youth after graduating college. </span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpmBdagDj9SbwXIOFqxrxNwpul_DHkyws6TldDV9uXbFwyWW5KGAYNBoZeVZ8sS9A92nyZqjQ3-z3YASQomrBtTrPnESu3hLhETeJDvpbdAx43NL-oPU4CHEzdC7AsHjAq-dd2afR3mVD/s4240/Stickl+picture.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpmBdagDj9SbwXIOFqxrxNwpul_DHkyws6TldDV9uXbFwyWW5KGAYNBoZeVZ8sS9A92nyZqjQ3-z3YASQomrBtTrPnESu3hLhETeJDvpbdAx43NL-oPU4CHEzdC7AsHjAq-dd2afR3mVD/s320/Stickl+picture.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">The Hernandez family is dear to me, though you cannot tell by this picture. Jesse dressed as Ursula, so we had to play the part.</span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjXzz5L7XDijA5hDRzUWBHVDV-mZRSm7zvVxohI5anqPQ7cFaftROLiZWBcMLWsynGPFf_8DjK3OG44D4_ybqhYqXgtxzt3JBtXdoZFmBOZpOdnLGHqXO9Z6sgdnU-0v_-zXWT0onKvsd/s4240/ursula.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjXzz5L7XDijA5hDRzUWBHVDV-mZRSm7zvVxohI5anqPQ7cFaftROLiZWBcMLWsynGPFf_8DjK3OG44D4_ybqhYqXgtxzt3JBtXdoZFmBOZpOdnLGHqXO9Z6sgdnU-0v_-zXWT0onKvsd/s320/ursula.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Sally and I served together for 6 years at Memorial Baptist. I was at the hospital when Elias was born, and Emmelia has come to visit in Scottsville. I loved serving alongside Sally</span></b></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMuOaXe2o39QW4kNOa-TTmnCsZUtHlgTmdtP_tBvalUKCbGA3r50Kka4i6s8OvaeU4Sjny7_DAAb5TzeE4c4M8Ijvj_uj0sI11Ui_U-7JWmfTjCkcjSJMBpMNmxWkpjipdZpj_12B-0S6/s4240/sally.jpg" style="font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMuOaXe2o39QW4kNOa-TTmnCsZUtHlgTmdtP_tBvalUKCbGA3r50Kka4i6s8OvaeU4Sjny7_DAAb5TzeE4c4M8Ijvj_uj0sI11Ui_U-7JWmfTjCkcjSJMBpMNmxWkpjipdZpj_12B-0S6/s320/sally.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Hannah and Jessica arrived in style--the style of a mermaid appearing outside of a Honda Civic sunroof. I love it.</b></span></li></ul><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHJHpQQQH6GNXKyD1IihGkBBf-sfOcme4xHRiSvhdBDHwQ_gHrOk2I2-8v9Xd4ldd-G7Br1_8k5XZUaToUI6x_ww-hf02ZnWPfWGpKf9H4Z22egyCdZCuUTegFwlVnRJA8Oh5T42OZWdH/s4240/hannah.jpg" style="font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4240" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHJHpQQQH6GNXKyD1IihGkBBf-sfOcme4xHRiSvhdBDHwQ_gHrOk2I2-8v9Xd4ldd-G7Br1_8k5XZUaToUI6x_ww-hf02ZnWPfWGpKf9H4Z22egyCdZCuUTegFwlVnRJA8Oh5T42OZWdH/s320/hannah.jpg" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>The Hills, Charlotte Benjamin, and others (forgive me if I have forgotten others!) also rolled on by. It was a gift to see everyone. My first roommate in Arlington, Andrea Lupo, and her husband Jeff Morrow paraded by too. I married them a year-and-a-half ago! More happiness.</b></span></li></ul><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblzT_wu_PzG1SMtewGzkPhEo8l9I_DQL3dovrwaRfAlHqGwOOHKdol4EhB-SuF1w_0NxYFR6h9RKwALujBtCjoFMauV7PpYlNF-ZI_W3hci_eHAsRx_7DgkgvuNAXLuf9gi42xT_Hp-Hw/s4240/andrea+and+jeff.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblzT_wu_PzG1SMtewGzkPhEo8l9I_DQL3dovrwaRfAlHqGwOOHKdol4EhB-SuF1w_0NxYFR6h9RKwALujBtCjoFMauV7PpYlNF-ZI_W3hci_eHAsRx_7DgkgvuNAXLuf9gi42xT_Hp-Hw/s320/andrea+and+jeff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br /></b></span></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>You'll see this picture twice, because the first time I want to highlight the PiΓ±atagram. It came in the mail and was filled with candy. GOOD CANDY. Thanks Kudners.</b></span></li></ul></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zk_kgTk-9mtoQGD1bDNPETWyxY_VxEtyGwb5yKECB33pnnXgozKdOKoyhuvjOoQo0obOEA2u2ITIIm6p9WaT2odtyjsy-q3Z1MQg1ki0xrVDf2ZuJ-7LPs9o_m1U47JmCbGaT324OrC9/s2048/IMG_2212+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zk_kgTk-9mtoQGD1bDNPETWyxY_VxEtyGwb5yKECB33pnnXgozKdOKoyhuvjOoQo0obOEA2u2ITIIm6p9WaT2odtyjsy-q3Z1MQg1ki0xrVDf2ZuJ-7LPs9o_m1U47JmCbGaT324OrC9/s320/IMG_2212+2.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Artemia, Sally, and I started at Memorial in 2006. What a joy to share 14 years of friendship with them.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjiQ6yE0Esuz0z4lRWSVsWqziX7bb-jpjDjf4lLih0ZB-pfF0WUzpDdqcf25wc2K4JLKeuyBYYrLZeZh8rV7YC6uiTf31yrSq4CYKuzjhL-vftfTXzvGU_kaMGVEgOlV-ts9LWnOxtzt-c/s4240/colleagues+and+friends.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2832" data-original-width="4240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjiQ6yE0Esuz0z4lRWSVsWqziX7bb-jpjDjf4lLih0ZB-pfF0WUzpDdqcf25wc2K4JLKeuyBYYrLZeZh8rV7YC6uiTf31yrSq4CYKuzjhL-vftfTXzvGU_kaMGVEgOlV-ts9LWnOxtzt-c/s320/colleagues+and+friends.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Snow White (Mary), Bruno (Jon), Ariel (Ellie), and Belle (Katherine) hosted us. They made a lovely charcuterie board, and Jon and the girls decorated the back porch. Everything was perfect. Mary is such a good person.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAgeHxcLl7WPGtvfTIwvUD18Il9blZE2cbbVkjRrJiBw3m_ze3OdLr4lqDoXwemM6NgsrrFG3qIv9Uj0xVzKLgZOcEowRasAoDZrxXvg4vDoFvBnsNtWnERAe7_65FuJOZZ6rCq5RDKk-/s4240/mary+family+.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4240" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAgeHxcLl7WPGtvfTIwvUD18Il9blZE2cbbVkjRrJiBw3m_ze3OdLr4lqDoXwemM6NgsrrFG3qIv9Uj0xVzKLgZOcEowRasAoDZrxXvg4vDoFvBnsNtWnERAe7_65FuJOZZ6rCq5RDKk-/s320/mary+family+.jpg" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Elsa (Cindy) made the cake, crackers, and cauliflower soup from scratch. All delicious. Cindy Schall is one of the best. Don't forget it.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoADB-_oOqfkaMYNw10t7gjdsre81CwobpIlVAuVfZwQERkT3mHxbp8oYjrupUOzBxF503wh2B4GC6N2Su4R8zacyvV4uRQbHCOfMllOC7wglk7vxmywL_lsCPymnEsFXFiwVj1Z3snsy/s4240/urban+family.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4240" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoADB-_oOqfkaMYNw10t7gjdsre81CwobpIlVAuVfZwQERkT3mHxbp8oYjrupUOzBxF503wh2B4GC6N2Su4R8zacyvV4uRQbHCOfMllOC7wglk7vxmywL_lsCPymnEsFXFiwVj1Z3snsy/s320/urban+family.jpg" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Here I am with said cake. Let me tell you about it: One white cake layer, one raspberry cake layer, and another white cake layer. Chocolate mousse held it all together. The top and sides were buttercream, and dark chocolate dots decorated the top. Cindy had a Disney printout with my name (!!!) and age on it. Spectacular. These people hummed Happy Birthday to me. Artemia spoke the words.<br /></b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVH1vlfeNsDXHI5OhrfdHSmUEMm91mOmLKL5ZN84vAv3Zxr6tRIIGTvW8jit2Vt4Hql7qim-tTDdbBpKrTpa0-aDrVYRBaOIsChQmvXSLqt0tOKGpvxuL_lVZnJcRp-7zGYstIjHg67IS/s4240/i%2527m+40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4240" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVH1vlfeNsDXHI5OhrfdHSmUEMm91mOmLKL5ZN84vAv3Zxr6tRIIGTvW8jit2Vt4Hql7qim-tTDdbBpKrTpa0-aDrVYRBaOIsChQmvXSLqt0tOKGpvxuL_lVZnJcRp-7zGYstIjHg67IS/s320/i%2527m+40.jpg" /></span></a></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>We went back inside and Brooke had created a video of pictures and kind words from family and friends. Again, waterworks. "Brooke! My best friend! It's my best friend!"</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIStUdMmJ1yobvq2tAlvsFsQ_KNJMXlBko5Vv1U7xEmyZG-NMrBm8vjOfxbZAm2tow8hdct9hoZq_1DT0ac80IH_y8JhK6tDouad2QyxW2kOAqr7ZiQas_rMcxFHmCShzdy56zsa2lnDZe/s2010/73691BBA-5266-4128-80AB-F71D00C8CC98.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="2010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIStUdMmJ1yobvq2tAlvsFsQ_KNJMXlBko5Vv1U7xEmyZG-NMrBm8vjOfxbZAm2tow8hdct9hoZq_1DT0ac80IH_y8JhK6tDouad2QyxW2kOAqr7ZiQas_rMcxFHmCShzdy56zsa2lnDZe/s320/73691BBA-5266-4128-80AB-F71D00C8CC98.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Party's Over. I thought it was 10:00p and it was time to go so I started to leave. It was 7:50. I think their love, gifts, and grace were so wonderful I was overwhelmed. They have teased me mercilessly since (as they should).</b></span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: center;"><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>This is a stack of posters and cards from all over the nation. Again, thanks to my friends I felt the love from so many people. Thank you, friends.</b></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zk_kgTk-9mtoQGD1bDNPETWyxY_VxEtyGwb5yKECB33pnnXgozKdOKoyhuvjOoQo0obOEA2u2ITIIm6p9WaT2odtyjsy-q3Z1MQg1ki0xrVDf2ZuJ-7LPs9o_m1U47JmCbGaT324OrC9/s2048/IMG_2212+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zk_kgTk-9mtoQGD1bDNPETWyxY_VxEtyGwb5yKECB33pnnXgozKdOKoyhuvjOoQo0obOEA2u2ITIIm6p9WaT2odtyjsy-q3Z1MQg1ki0xrVDf2ZuJ-7LPs9o_m1U47JmCbGaT324OrC9/s320/IMG_2212+2.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you friends and family. Thank you.</span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-32330840788502128552020-05-07T11:36:00.000-04:002020-05-09T11:13:40.586-04:00When He Called My Friend the N-word<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Pam and I have been friends for 13 years. Weβve taken at least a dozen sermon-writing retreats together until Pam had the nerve to retire and move to the beach (whereβby the wayβshe and her lovely husband have hosted my <i>entire</i> family for 2 vacations). I miss those sermon retreats. We laughed, cried, and sought the Lord together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Pam is a gift-giver. If sheβs your friend, you know this. She MacGyvers her way into your personal info and regularly surprises you. This is TMI, but this post is vulnerability-city for me so here goes: One time we were talking undergarments and how the best, supportive, and most lovely brands are so expensiveβmy favorite brand in particular. Pam took note and for years picked up my favorite brand for meβ¦just because she delights in giving people extravagant gifts. The extravagance is an expression of her love. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Years ago on my birthday Pam wanted to treat me for lunch so we agreed to meet halfway. I selected a small restaurantβit seemed to have local flairβand was excited to see Pam. We arrived near the same time and walked in together, and I kid you not people stared at us uninterrupted for 30 seconds. Eventually I waved at the people to break their gaze. I shrugged it off and we sat down at a booth. The waitress brought our menus and I excused myself to the bathroom. As I was returning to our table, a man looked at me and said it: <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The n-word.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">He said it loud and clear for all to hear.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I stopped, gritted my teeth, and felt anger course through my body. I donβt know if Iβve ever been that angry. I stood and stared at him</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">βreturning the gaze we'd been given as we entered the restaurant. And then</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt;">β</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt;">Iβm ashamed to sayβI grew afraid of him. He was a big man with a posse of people at his table, so I looked away and returned to our booth having said nothing. I am still ashamed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And then the craziest thing happened. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">A woman seated at the man's table came over to our booth. She sat down with Pam and me. She said nothing to Pam, but apologizedβto meβfor the man having said the word. βHe wasnβt talking about you,β she said, as if this somehow absolved him, as if it was okay to use the n-word as long as it didnβt apply to present company. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Later I told Pam what the man said and her response gutted me.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">βThatβs normal,β she said. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I didnβt know this. I should have, but I didnβt.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I grieved the rest of the day. I cried, felt shame, and obsessed over what I should or could have done differently. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That day opened my eyes. I didnβt want to believe people could be so cruel, but thatβs just naΓ―ve and likely a result of my privilege as a white person. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Iβm sorry. <o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Since then Iβve learned more about blatant racism, and also the myriad of micro-aggressions coddled by our culture. Iβm still learning.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Why do I tell you this now? I cannot stop thinking about Ahmaud Arbery.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Did you know black families are afraid to let their sons and daughters jog in the street for fear someone might think theyβre a burglar AND SHOOT THEM?<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">This is their normal.<o:p></o:p></span><u1:p></u1:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That should break our hearts and lead us to action. What is your action? What is mine? Iβm praying God will show me the way. Will you join me in that prayer?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-28491179693107892122020-04-17T19:58:00.001-04:002020-04-17T21:57:24.678-04:00The Trouble With AngelsIf you were to rewind to my childhood, you'd find a couple of worn out VHS tapes. Chief among them was <i>The Trouble with Angels</i>, a funny and insightful movie about calling. The surprise ending reveals the imperfect protagonist Mary (Hayley Mills) is called to ministry.<br />
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Mary is a precocious teenager sent off to Catholic boarding school. Mary and her friend Rachel are thick as thieves. They pull pranks, smoke in the bathroom, and wreak hilarious havoc on nuns and students alike. Not even Mary's cousin Marvel-Ann (awesome name) is spared.<br />
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As Mary matures so does her sense of calling, and the patient Reverend Mother helps Mary listen to God. But even still Mary's calling sneaks up on her. It's a poignant picture of the sometimes surprising nature of call. Happily <i>The Trouble with Angels </i>taught young, Protestant Katie that God calls all kinds of people to do God's work: the silly, serious, mischievous, extroverted, introverted, young, old, confident, unassuming, people we expect and others who make our jaws drop. If you don't believe me there is a book I might suggest.<br />
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This book is the Bible.<br />
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My scripture reading this morning was the disciples' miraculous catch of fish. Here's the comedy: They caught 153 fish, the seasoned fishermen took advice from a "stranger," and SURPRISE the "stranger" is Jesus. A bunch of funny details led to revelation and calling.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Angel" Katie McKown</td></tr>
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In <i>The Trouble with Angels </i>funny details lead to revelation and calling. Mary's pranks reveal a zest for life (helpful in ministry!), and her growing admiration for the sisters helps midwife a sacred vocation in her own life.<br />
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And in my life a movie about a budding, sassy nun in Catholic boarding school helped reveal my call to ministry. There's a reason I wore out this VHS, and even as a girl I think I knew God was stirring a calling within me.<br />
<br />
Thanks be to God for the funny details.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-66859119453956988372020-03-24T12:09:00.000-04:002020-03-24T12:09:06.803-04:00Lament and Hope<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Have you been to the grocery store lately? There are a million memes about toilet paper, but more pressing is the feeling of fear in every aisle. The anxiety is palpable, and as a person prone to feeling whatβs going on around meβit's almost physically painful to observe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The worry over two-ply or one isnβt the issue. Itβs the fear of someone we love being struck with illness. Itβs the uncertainty of when the curve will flatten. Itβs the anger. Itβs the grief. Itβs the anxiety of inadvertently carrying the illness and giving it to others. Itβs worry about job loss. Itβs all these things and a million more. The next time youβre at the grocery store look at peopleβs eyesβso many pairs are glazed over in resignation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know this reads as depressing, but at present itβs simply the reality. We neednβt paste a smiley-face emoji on everything (I do this) because everything is not happy. One need only look to a lament psalm to see honesty about our emotions can be a vital part of our prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Read Psalm 42. It begins beautifully with a deer panting for a stream as we long for the Lord, but as the psalm continues fear-riddled questions are posed: (9-11a) <i>I say to God my Rock, βWhy have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?β My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, βWhere is your God?β Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lament is part of the psalmistβs prayer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Friends: Itβs okay to lament </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">AND at the same time itβs </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">also</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> okay to put our hope in God. Sometimes lament and hope coexist, so we pray all of it to God. </span><br />
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But don't miss the psalmist's refrain: Hope. <span style="font-family: inherit;">Look at verses 5b and 11b: </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">11b is the bookend of the psalmβa reminder that come what may we are people of hope, God is with us, and we give God praise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For me this means <i>choosing</i> hope daily. What does that look like for Katie McKown?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Starting my day with βPray as You Goββa prayer app based on Ignatian Spirituality.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Music, prayer, scripture, and guided questions begin my morning.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">This is an app new to me and itβs a good fit for this season.</span></li>
<li>Praying specifically for people by name</li>
<li>Taking a walk outside</li>
<li>Scheduling FaceTime calls with friends and family.<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Sometimes I call to work puzzles (hey Iβm #cool) or games, and other times I call because Iβm feeling anxious or worried.</span></li>
<li>Updating my Instagram and Facebook pages more regularly to communicate with my neighbors</li>
<li>Trying out Facebook Live to share puns</li>
<li>Sending thank-you cards or surprising friends with gifts in the mail</li>
<li>Refraining from reading news when I feel overwhelmed</li>
<li>Taking a nap when I feel tired</li>
<li>Writing</li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I continue to lament over COVID-19, but hope is the beginning and end of my prayer (or that is my goal, rather). The choices above help me choose hope, and maybe choosing hope looks different for you. What does choosing hope look like for you? Iβd love to hear your suggestions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God is with us, brothers and sisters. This is reason for hope. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jE59e6j2WT-iKOXx2P04ylwJs9rTyZ4aWOLCdsscbhcB5KBNMNmogoDQk8xfz0ap0_FDLBXm5erTeAFCHXfTjAoovBLbQih-91T_-GxanuaRWD8_SxSQOB96y5bHUB888v4KFPqADvPg/s1600/IMG_0036.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jE59e6j2WT-iKOXx2P04ylwJs9rTyZ4aWOLCdsscbhcB5KBNMNmogoDQk8xfz0ap0_FDLBXm5erTeAFCHXfTjAoovBLbQih-91T_-GxanuaRWD8_SxSQOB96y5bHUB888v4KFPqADvPg/s400/IMG_0036.png" width="185" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#Puzzletime with my pals Randi (L) and Tony (R)</td></tr>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-30909832442072537172020-03-05T17:35:00.000-05:002020-03-05T18:17:50.080-05:00Women Were Not the Echo Today<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I will worship⦠(men lead)</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I will worship⦠(women echo)</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">With all of my heart⦠(men)</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">With all of my heart⦠(women echo)</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">The soundtrack
of my early 20s was contemporary Christian music.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">I still enjoy it, and although I </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">also like the
liturgical calendar and smells and bells</span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;">βI</span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">βll never not sing my heart out to "Big House."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Somewhere along
the way I noticed women often (always?) echoed the men in praise chorusesβthis happened
at conferences and on the radio.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">At
first it seemed normal because it was presented as such, but one day it
struck me:</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Why is this normal?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Why do men always sing the lead?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Why are women always the echo?</span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">******************************************</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">Fast forward to this
week.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: large; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;">Women
were not the echo.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="1600" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NfmzBH3iPOfvJy8Ih1rjFL09TNAItqSrrSuXVmZNwxCvdT4FH2-ts3R9P0zgBI2vXrcIvT7W9IwKw0LE_uddJ9MDGlKny7qTHoXcdEiP8OaysseQ9jkuNfhA-E5Pg13ian-Zf2zJnrWS/s400/IMG_9878.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapel Service at Tyndale Seminary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Our Uptick Voice cohort gathered in Toronto at Tyndale Seminary. We are a group of women who are leaders in the church and nonprofit world. As part of our learning experience we worshipped with the seminary community, and as we entered the sanctuary we were met with a diverse team of women leading us.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
was immediately struck by the visual and before I realized it I was
choking back tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tears were a
response to the beauty of the moment and also the <i>rarity</i> of the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It's rare and it shouldn't be.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">I
thought about it all week.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Godβs
choir is at its most robust when men and women are living in the fullness of
Godβs calling.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">And that means we lead
according to our gifts; so sometimes women lead and men echo and other times
men lead and women echo.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">This is the
witness of scripture.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Paul entrusted
Phoebe to deliver (and likely read!) the letter to the Romans.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">The church in Rome echoed. </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">12 men were called to serve alongside Jesus.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Men and women </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">echoed.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">Mary Magdalene was tasked with preaching the
first sermon of the resurrection.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond"; text-indent: 0.5in;">The (then) 11 echoed. The fullness of all voices leadingβalto, tenor, soprano, bassβadds to
the richness of the choir.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Leadership changes according to gifts and seasons, but when youβre only allowed to
be the echoβ¦itβs hard to imagine you </span><i style="font-family: Garamond;">can</i><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
lead.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> This week I</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> heard a scholar say βyou canβt
imagine what you havenβt seen.β</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Do girls
see women leading at your church, or are they only allowed to be the echo?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Could there be little Annas and Lydias who
donβt know Godβs possibilities because you havenβt shown them?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Men, can you consider standing alongside us
and insisting on this?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">I
am grateful for the men and women whoβve helped me understand Godβs call on my
life.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">That list is long, and Iβm eager to
encourage the next generation of ministers among us.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvSOBwEME9oSseE_Z30Uz2TcCdQYZSW6r_Rr5FcCOOpoGbSRcytBVVijfvA1c587qTTxxZnj7rim1nvagrXZZ53TKOs_2clUgj5oMliS5E8OXPWsqoNKeZDP-2Mm5FcUibFSvwjj8P1Ih/s1600/IMG_9889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvSOBwEME9oSseE_Z30Uz2TcCdQYZSW6r_Rr5FcCOOpoGbSRcytBVVijfvA1c587qTTxxZnj7rim1nvagrXZZ53TKOs_2clUgj5oMliS5E8OXPWsqoNKeZDP-2Mm5FcUibFSvwjj8P1Ih/s400/IMG_9889.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Privileged to help lead this Uptick cohort of women leading our churches and nonprofits. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<br />
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</style>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-19994259648169811812019-05-02T11:46:00.000-04:002019-05-02T20:38:17.248-04:00It's More Than a Yard SaleThis weekend our church is hosting a yard sale. We're in the thick of it right now<span style="font-family: "american typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">β</span>sorting, pricing, and trying on hats (just me). Yard sales are not for the faint of heart, but it remains one of my favorite events. The church bands together, we talk and laugh, we share the table, we get rid of stuff we don't need, we meet the community, we give to missions, etc. I love it.<br />
<br />
Last night I snapped this picture.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkqlH6jkx-4oEhEMk_mzp3R2e76VBUW3W1j7PKE05OTvXme4UHzZKyr8stydw7sWuLzxEH085Pv1-O_tsWIYiSW86gmndA7341u-8Vko5gHD6kCaLsoQB4OPDXS54L1d78orivADe5EUx/s1600/FullSizeRender-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkqlH6jkx-4oEhEMk_mzp3R2e76VBUW3W1j7PKE05OTvXme4UHzZKyr8stydw7sWuLzxEH085Pv1-O_tsWIYiSW86gmndA7341u-8Vko5gHD6kCaLsoQB4OPDXS54L1d78orivADe5EUx/s320/FullSizeRender-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Houston and Dorothy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A picture is worth 1000 words. Here are a few of mine:<br />
<br />
I love the yard sale <u>best</u> for moments like this one. A little one and a Baby Boomer are happily chatting, and there are at least five other children out of this frame running all over my yard<span style="font-family: "american typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">β</span>mostly rolling down the hill in a very tall box. People in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s are sorting, pricing, and organizing. It's a big bunch of intergenerational fellowship, which makes a pastor's heart go thump, thump, thump.<br />
<br />
More words: Dorothy's posture toward Houston reminds me of her mother, Katherine, who even in her 90s would speak to children at eye level. Dorothy told me she's enjoyed getting to know the children while serving in the nursery. This moment is the result of a Baby Boomer who continues to actively serve our children. Today Houston's mom said "Katherine is smiling at this picture." Indeed.<br />
<br />
I love the yard sale because it's more than a yard sale.<br />
<br />
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</style>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-9958129143654036562019-01-06T00:41:00.000-05:002019-01-06T13:03:06.914-05:00Imperfect Stars<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">While doing 100 things at once I hastily sketched stars for tomorrowβs worship. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">I made 75 copies before truly noticing the stars' glaring imperfections. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VYAH7PLCWqPX_NfyzehN2QJicU4bHUReS2eReq5Q1I4_NGd3UQNDzGvMEHWONRU6WSpiY7Qvvl8LFSsSOqZhDoNCQc-sNsQswPS0SoYmXA3MVDeFE6fNHQQq6SqKhApcxx43Zc1pSlPz/s1600/IMG_6376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VYAH7PLCWqPX_NfyzehN2QJicU4bHUReS2eReq5Q1I4_NGd3UQNDzGvMEHWONRU6WSpiY7Qvvl8LFSsSOqZhDoNCQc-sNsQswPS0SoYmXA3MVDeFE6fNHQQq6SqKhApcxx43Zc1pSlPz/s400/IMG_6376.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practically perfect in <strike>every</strike> no way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Good gravy, Katie. These are for the public. How will the magi arrive in Bethlehem IF THESE ARE THE STARS GUIDING THEM? </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There <i>may</i> be a dramatic crescendo to those questions. After all: They're </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">paper stars. This is small potatoes. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">But it didn't <i>feel</i> small. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Showing imperfections rarely does. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We've all got imperfections, but letting others see can be painful. Small potatoes imperfections aren't a big deal, but perhaps they remind us of bigger imperfections--envy, pride, selfishness, greed, or refusal to forgive. And we don't want people to see <i>those</i> imperfections because what will they think?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">So we settle for projecting what we want people to see. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">This helps no one, and can cause us to persist in those bigger imperfections--which is ironic since vulnerability is o</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">ne of the most freeing paths TO repentance! Vulnerability</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"> is not easy, but showing and telling breaks the power of shame. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">This is good news (!), and in he</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">althy churches vulnerability is heard by others with compassionate ears. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">We then w</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">alk together through the thick of it, and point each other to God's grace. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">So...in an attempt to listen to my own sermon (I try this on occasion) I cut out the imperfect stars and stuffed them in tomorrow's worship folders. May they remind you (and me) to be vulnerable.</span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-72654176402092753322018-11-19T16:09:00.000-05:002018-11-19T18:35:38.142-05:00Living with the Sermon<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;">For the most part I'm
an optimist. </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I keep on the sunny
side. I
like when frowns turn upside down. The glass is half full. </span></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">You get my
drift. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Optimists look forward
with hope, but we sometimes hesitate to name what is difficult. So Iβm
stretching today: Sermon-writing is difficult.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Recently a young minister asked me "Do you ever feel inadequate as a pastor?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">"Every day. Every Sunday. Every sermon." </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I said it so quickly I didn't think to keep on the sunny side.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">On Thursdays it feels as if the sermon will never come together.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Thereβs rambling in my rough draft (if I have one).</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">My ideas are unclear.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">My illustrations seem forced. It feels like pulling teeth to get a
paragraph together.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Of course the sermon comes togetherβ</span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">something </i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">has to by
Sundayβbut itβs worrisome each week.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">The whole process is humbling, and perhaps especially so for a
perfectionist who also struggles with pride. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Sermons live with me 24/7. Sometimes people tell me to forget about the sermon for a bit. People say this because they care about me, but forgetting the sermon is like forgetting I have an arm or a leg. The sermon is always part of me which makes it heavy to carry; and at the same time </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the <i>weight</i> is what gives it meaning. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Sermon-writing is a constant
back and forth with the Holy Spirit. "Is that me talking or you
talking? Am I listening to you or am I just trying to be clever?" T</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">his conversation continues Sunday mornings even as worship begins. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">During worship </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">a </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">hundred thoughts come to mind. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I remember afresh the man who's waiting on test results. </span><span style="color: #222222;">I notice the woman staring off in the distance. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I see smiles and grief in the same pew.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I can tell when the teenager would rather be anywhere else. I sense the closeness of some families and the gaping distance between others. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I scratch out a paragraph. I underline a sentence to emphasize. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I wonder what good news will sound like for </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt;">_____ </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">today. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">All of this is part of the sermon-writing process.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Sermon-writing is difficult, but here's what is also true: Sermon-writing is a joy. Once I reach the pulpit and start preaching the Holy Spirit bolsters me. It's incredible, and for those 20 minutes I'm in the groove. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Before the sermon? Different story. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">After the sermon? Different story, but during...THAT is the sweet spot. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">As an optimist, I'm
tempted to tie all of this up with a big red bow. No need. You know
I love sermon-writing.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">It is a sacred
privilege, but it is not easy. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Most good things
aren't.</span><br />
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</style>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-68997071677597996322018-11-11T16:03:00.002-05:002018-11-11T20:49:25.693-05:00Six Years of Joy<div>
It's been six years today.<br />
<br />
<i>I have pastored Scottsville Baptist Church for six years. </i><br />
<br />
As I type those words, I can hardly believe them.<br />
<br />
I knew I loved 'em when I met 'em, and happily God has grown that love with each passing year. They see me<span style="font-family: "american typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">β</span>my flaws and gifts<span style="font-family: "american typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">β</span>and I see them. This is no longer honeymoon-stage love: Six years is a long time. A long-term pastorate is a gift. I am grateful.<br />
<br />
To celebrate, I wanted to share a few moments of captured joy:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Wn8X4JgVTSXMtIRctjZHXyY8t4InZZxaoSPqX9E0y18riHrgp0wfquhvkAyDtXdWi2M60_IEJwww6vHliyeAlykxofi_yJiGM66xtWVMEKNWnkTKs_h7tCUspTbEBp32sBK-jNgALoX/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1675.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="908" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Wn8X4JgVTSXMtIRctjZHXyY8t4InZZxaoSPqX9E0y18riHrgp0wfquhvkAyDtXdWi2M60_IEJwww6vHliyeAlykxofi_yJiGM66xtWVMEKNWnkTKs_h7tCUspTbEBp32sBK-jNgALoX/s400/fullsizeoutput_1675.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dorothy was the Co-Chair of the Pastor Search Committee. As I transitioned to Scottsville, Dorothy said she would look for ways to support me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here's what she's done:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Every Monday for six years (that's 312 Mondays) Dorothy has sent me a note of encouragement. She often reflects on the sermon or good things going on in the church. She'll ask how I'm doing or insist I take a day off. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">You can't imagine what these 312 plus emails have meant to me.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0PFMDouVRWlFLFDM-YzzecnXJTGvYwpzImWPJjYT_U2N_3Zb-O_7SJeVp9538ux2j1cWz3C8NQOcaITi7J8VnL-B-LGDec_-3qiiGLvYfNVE3nDjmJGGU8gXUlUW6TCNLByVmh1cRYGM/s1600/69446_187028388111892_347248692_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0PFMDouVRWlFLFDM-YzzecnXJTGvYwpzImWPJjYT_U2N_3Zb-O_7SJeVp9538ux2j1cWz3C8NQOcaITi7J8VnL-B-LGDec_-3qiiGLvYfNVE3nDjmJGGU8gXUlUW6TCNLByVmh1cRYGM/s400/69446_187028388111892_347248692_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is Easter 2013. I had been at the church for about four months. <br />It was a dreary day, but I'm glad we snapped a photo. <br />We were just getting started on our journey together. </span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVj3vYyg4qQzBHClorcPwQFY2Lr9xGtyALKhZNyNcDWQQjnTnEg3JiUozIzvmHqyjhBEfM0pVGKRT6A3EyRWR8OycQfFC-We7LgU_4z4NPUdy-EaspnyNRKZKVOamp-2ceEaArkJgdn3H/s1600/947279_197574700390594_230636659_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVj3vYyg4qQzBHClorcPwQFY2Lr9xGtyALKhZNyNcDWQQjnTnEg3JiUozIzvmHqyjhBEfM0pVGKRT6A3EyRWR8OycQfFC-We7LgU_4z4NPUdy-EaspnyNRKZKVOamp-2ceEaArkJgdn3H/s400/947279_197574700390594_230636659_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here we are at my Installation Service. The Lord called me to Scottsville, and Bill Smith was a big part of the Lord's work. Bill bent over backwards to help make it happen. I am grateful for such a wise mentor and friend.</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHubb4jItkba0qmAjN1mcUrDfu0NU3QBeIBHzQ8-YQGF_daknfj3pOd6z_7ahGiauvOFYlRxZYVaqfY_GTQvK0-Y4nKVkizPb0mjhlPyHq8hnxjDNaDoyhPnh5KczFkzGTJxEFjkhT7Q-v/s1600/936373_197575913723806_252892167_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHubb4jItkba0qmAjN1mcUrDfu0NU3QBeIBHzQ8-YQGF_daknfj3pOd6z_7ahGiauvOFYlRxZYVaqfY_GTQvK0-Y4nKVkizPb0mjhlPyHq8hnxjDNaDoyhPnh5KczFkzGTJxEFjkhT7Q-v/s400/936373_197575913723806_252892167_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is also from my Installation Service. These pastors have been a source of encouragement, hope, understanding, and friendship.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEC3vt6tXjZrSyZ5i4NIcPMiuPQX6u7uIm-OdSS8wFPsldBIONk6ahc9lzXpfuvgWj5oAXH2azq6eG9DdVRSqHA-51Lbs8tpdvEm1-ZvJxi7HJ-ArM2_Ldm1TdOxCPU3b_B1bZvwtMxkF/s1600/1236323_244318305716233_883095588_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEC3vt6tXjZrSyZ5i4NIcPMiuPQX6u7uIm-OdSS8wFPsldBIONk6ahc9lzXpfuvgWj5oAXH2azq6eG9DdVRSqHA-51Lbs8tpdvEm1-ZvJxi7HJ-ArM2_Ldm1TdOxCPU3b_B1bZvwtMxkF/s400/1236323_244318305716233_883095588_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don't remember much about our first Deacons' Retreat, but this photo brings me inordinate amounts of joy. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzH4tRzBunqUjQIdubmGwNCxv05uV9ZkZUUg5ic1xW1bZgU_kC1__ULo8-TbFxxiL5vJh19DAAycxbFWkdE5Zx4FWhyHUoDVAieLlTYiaxFFl9VrYfsXMQiNEYnI1XFEvHUjewWDzoza6H/s1600/fullsizeoutput_c2a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzH4tRzBunqUjQIdubmGwNCxv05uV9ZkZUUg5ic1xW1bZgU_kC1__ULo8-TbFxxiL5vJh19DAAycxbFWkdE5Zx4FWhyHUoDVAieLlTYiaxFFl9VrYfsXMQiNEYnI1XFEvHUjewWDzoza6H/s400/fullsizeoutput_c2a.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">In late 2013 God called Hallie and Matthew to our church. I could see Hallie's gifts for ministry right away, and the church called her to serve. <br />We designed her ministry to focus on families, and at first we didn't have many but we stepped out on faith. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw63P7c78sa25xuPpxDaJmu9OFdVu84iz7yd28DRRLGLiukEj-NtC0MuyhrlU_Lw03uoyaMAs3QG36unu14xkmIfFW38XE-XD-hVJV3x6fiDCz_jIeZz6Dj3AEwi1sn5rZeDGIsQv_GgN_/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1c8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="1600" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw63P7c78sa25xuPpxDaJmu9OFdVu84iz7yd28DRRLGLiukEj-NtC0MuyhrlU_Lw03uoyaMAs3QG36unu14xkmIfFW38XE-XD-hVJV3x6fiDCz_jIeZz6Dj3AEwi1sn5rZeDGIsQv_GgN_/s400/fullsizeoutput_1c8.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">And I'm glad we did because God called most of these folks to the church in 2014-2015. It was an incredible season of growth</span>β<span style="font-size: small;">thanks be to God. <br />We started a Sunday School Class, and a lot of joy was born of this season.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VSZMmfBtwWx3bs1RGD3kv9aCm8RGuDzG26JYK4QztAfmPQcXH4VevTSK5AxFDEqkHX3E_EFld_7jOgGauAyqF9GCOZkGxtLwJBODI4W7YEKE_RWAJEP07aCTRSKy1CyVXleXKuOQ_3zh/s1600/11150154_487207981427263_237891042042826182_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="960" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VSZMmfBtwWx3bs1RGD3kv9aCm8RGuDzG26JYK4QztAfmPQcXH4VevTSK5AxFDEqkHX3E_EFld_7jOgGauAyqF9GCOZkGxtLwJBODI4W7YEKE_RWAJEP07aCTRSKy1CyVXleXKuOQ_3zh/s400/11150154_487207981427263_237891042042826182_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes we played kickball after business meetings. That was fun.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQjWmRpCLe40Bbsl-wi6Is1BGRX96FtRGpV_w6sWsnSD_FSEIKUb8XXj4IYdcp0J7xjogW26K3EaStbZ_vQ_8GEolkpoPeS9XipjCRDVn8TJGSI17a-bw6fYvIlvR9VXodVpM4_6wdcBA/s1600/10574411_372279696253426_6373584083298544048_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="960" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQjWmRpCLe40Bbsl-wi6Is1BGRX96FtRGpV_w6sWsnSD_FSEIKUb8XXj4IYdcp0J7xjogW26K3EaStbZ_vQ_8GEolkpoPeS9XipjCRDVn8TJGSI17a-bw6fYvIlvR9VXodVpM4_6wdcBA/s400/10574411_372279696253426_6373584083298544048_n-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the summer of 2014 we took a trip to Washington, D.C. <br />Since that trip I've had the privilege of baptizing both <br />Robbie Via Sr. and Robbie Via Jr. and officiating two Via weddings. <br />The gift of a long pastorate is being welcomed into wonderfully holy moments <br />in people's lives.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2A9V-tLiBlCDnfG37c6P9J7mBCks21QoClejM2T7l08uwGmySiCNDnHM9CTb7ghCmQLlAtAWSzG0AGxvHm_YDMEostvK_Iq5O0daxSPolhVPsW2Datjr0qeW2p2fb4CQv42TVDFFqtLYZ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_b57.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1600" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2A9V-tLiBlCDnfG37c6P9J7mBCks21QoClejM2T7l08uwGmySiCNDnHM9CTb7ghCmQLlAtAWSzG0AGxvHm_YDMEostvK_Iq5O0daxSPolhVPsW2Datjr0qeW2p2fb4CQv42TVDFFqtLYZ/s400/fullsizeoutput_b57.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speaking of holy moments: I love when seniors and young people bond. <br />30-year olds sitting with 90-year olds is our jam.<br />Our seniors are among the best. <br />Some pictured in this post have gone on to glory. We love and miss them.</span></td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgXSO_LSXLzxb6Bitgce0nhO-LLRMhFNwtG1MYrbs3sELqWvtELOCb1xMIjWiqps6FPs2gYjV5OTVDt-Rm95gB9efBCicFOy2h1jGOsO1idLNBvw6WJF992kCoiyjmrfVMh7D4qt47b8F/s1600/12094946_559851850829542_4781795713960539628_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1124" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgXSO_LSXLzxb6Bitgce0nhO-LLRMhFNwtG1MYrbs3sELqWvtELOCb1xMIjWiqps6FPs2gYjV5OTVDt-Rm95gB9efBCicFOy2h1jGOsO1idLNBvw6WJF992kCoiyjmrfVMh7D4qt47b8F/s400/12094946_559851850829542_4781795713960539628_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here we are in October 2015 celebrating 175 years <br />of Scottsville Baptist Church. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1600" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnZDTja4IsAhLTRfb-Z8R052DHBUkV-hANewDMC49RNWnV9ksjwze9L_HX2xRePyUdLaHwWUwPZAWlwJBr8vyTSl5MIdcMd4Zxvqh3VwTCu8l8tSfFPuh0JeQC7H1ReoF2CdiU4hwWzNB/s400/18278716_829468647201193_8025899220474798289_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We have had fun with Baptist Men's Day and Baptist Women's Day. <br />Here are both our men and women belting out praise to God.<br />I love that all ages and stages are represented.</span><br />
<br style="font-size: 12.8px;" />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UFrCOpeffJhLbtpwTmSuGaYgdHcDDbHg5H1aRFRD2iPuiom841tfEWkQkOX7GiLcYOd3hQ2OXHnBLKRoahzbcwCrHfyYJoe6AcUfc07fq_gklNVF6y3DeFvuTcQdnYdDy-GTOf9CNXC6/s1600/fullsizeoutput_714.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="1600" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UFrCOpeffJhLbtpwTmSuGaYgdHcDDbHg5H1aRFRD2iPuiom841tfEWkQkOX7GiLcYOd3hQ2OXHnBLKRoahzbcwCrHfyYJoe6AcUfc07fq_gklNVF6y3DeFvuTcQdnYdDy-GTOf9CNXC6/s400/fullsizeoutput_714.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;">Baptist Women's Choir</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnZDTja4IsAhLTRfb-Z8R052DHBUkV-hANewDMC49RNWnV9ksjwze9L_HX2xRePyUdLaHwWUwPZAWlwJBr8vyTSl5MIdcMd4Zxvqh3VwTCu8l8tSfFPuh0JeQC7H1ReoF2CdiU4hwWzNB/s1600/18278716_829468647201193_8025899220474798289_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVkvwkSQASIUTxUhTMLbCbIIo4AXC-dNE0OnYKl-IV16Hu2pYNoWc56iZj-3v2But4b8-1qrNN9wNUnSYxCJUPIswLSib5BhJOBLHPb-puPLHESbHr4cOff-uvVhqdzPuYD5vkNEkWly6/s1600/fullsizeoutput_159.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1561" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVkvwkSQASIUTxUhTMLbCbIIo4AXC-dNE0OnYKl-IV16Hu2pYNoWc56iZj-3v2But4b8-1qrNN9wNUnSYxCJUPIswLSib5BhJOBLHPb-puPLHESbHr4cOff-uvVhqdzPuYD5vkNEkWly6/s400/fullsizeoutput_159.jpeg" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We've enjoyed leading different genres of music in our worship. <br />Pictured above is our Handbellz Group. <br />Simply seeing these matching t-shirts reaffirms my love for Scottsville.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKA73FApfYCeUOUZ_LtFqwzJGcGQ1Q9GB9K_kKD7yhVV4H8qws35HrOV1qgz6NYuYghjReepeDIea6BTFyOTTj5dyIvGdELub25duPTAPivkvDw1_ZRqXYtjXCD-HNLjVmdufYP7AofDw/s1600/fullsizeoutput_e38.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKA73FApfYCeUOUZ_LtFqwzJGcGQ1Q9GB9K_kKD7yhVV4H8qws35HrOV1qgz6NYuYghjReepeDIea6BTFyOTTj5dyIvGdELub25duPTAPivkvDw1_ZRqXYtjXCD-HNLjVmdufYP7AofDw/s400/fullsizeoutput_e38.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I love that the church is open to experiencing various elements of worship.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZ1RWwdDgWpBNWQ48lbGmYwqwOopuGbUjGDGYlTXgk5Dr7uN9J5f6ftA_tK-HRYbok0L6tFItZsciGKl_iuPnIcCLHx6rQ1rlAeoDRH-3wc-ZJAO73jQIJ1fr0F1rxRJHujUh5MTvOQ48/s1600/15626052_756619764486082_6340745524700441618_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZ1RWwdDgWpBNWQ48lbGmYwqwOopuGbUjGDGYlTXgk5Dr7uN9J5f6ftA_tK-HRYbok0L6tFItZsciGKl_iuPnIcCLHx6rQ1rlAeoDRH-3wc-ZJAO73jQIJ1fr0F1rxRJHujUh5MTvOQ48/s400/15626052_756619764486082_6340745524700441618_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">On December 24th we'll host a Christmas Eve Service. <br />It is a meaningful evening. <br />We'll share communion, sing carols, listen to scripture, and proclaim Jesus' birth.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVJCebyJP2vW_sGGh3jqeAUsi10TZHTVICQoriukjxEuAupSv9MgV6yCGaC86h_vL-d5VxL-JXP6TvGF7HgrA3DiO7k1hCLbWXrlBIxWqqllS30iU78Bn0bnSeJ-meu6CbLZf4eX02CEk/s1600/fullsizeoutput_d1e.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="1600" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVJCebyJP2vW_sGGh3jqeAUsi10TZHTVICQoriukjxEuAupSv9MgV6yCGaC86h_vL-d5VxL-JXP6TvGF7HgrA3DiO7k1hCLbWXrlBIxWqqllS30iU78Bn0bnSeJ-meu6CbLZf4eX02CEk/s400/fullsizeoutput_d1e.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">As the home church of Lottie Moon, we hope to carry on the tradition of sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. This year we partnered with Virginia Baptists in helping with flood relief in both Texas and North Carolina. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mvO2CK1Fo8PhGvT_R0uzpegld47UAoC7-P0fsmDbEox3rcFJnSDIm53xXPn_YvqtCf5hnhIicxVenIM8Ll0T6sloJeM_sWBWsKhTOJbhTJS8srduhkiCBJrkn-SvZMeXawZVshyphenhyphen_B-lA/s1600/41314352_1136730016475053_1225093177271123968_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1007" data-original-width="1600" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mvO2CK1Fo8PhGvT_R0uzpegld47UAoC7-P0fsmDbEox3rcFJnSDIm53xXPn_YvqtCf5hnhIicxVenIM8Ll0T6sloJeM_sWBWsKhTOJbhTJS8srduhkiCBJrkn-SvZMeXawZVshyphenhyphen_B-lA/s400/41314352_1136730016475053_1225093177271123968_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In September we braved the rain for a Nats game. Because there were only 10 people total at the game, ushers invited us down from the nosebleeds to sit in the best seats! Victoria said she could smell Bryce's shampoo. <br />Yes it poured cats and dogs shortly after this picture was taken, <br />but what a glorious 20 minutes it was.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_k8iJx-8drGSts752QLjRUbZl6K8mAEtqfGD-Ek83bDq-j_EIiO9G5yg5mdcetccbU8bZybR4IczkWbkQDk5FR9d4YG5kE_lYc7HHnlCP2kiaajtjt2NZwo-9K1Ybs89dHbOvbFqHXkQd/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_k8iJx-8drGSts752QLjRUbZl6K8mAEtqfGD-Ek83bDq-j_EIiO9G5yg5mdcetccbU8bZybR4IczkWbkQDk5FR9d4YG5kE_lYc7HHnlCP2kiaajtjt2NZwo-9K1Ybs89dHbOvbFqHXkQd/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;">This is a picture from the 2018 Deacons' Retreat. <br />I am inspired by their humility and leadership, and </span><span style="font-size: small;">I can't tell you how many times I've relied on their wisdom. <br />Their listening ears have been a gift to this verbally-processing pastor. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />I am grateful for all those God has called to serve as a deacon. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
These are just a few snapshots. There are hundreds more. Thanks be to God for calling me to this place and these people. </div>
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</style>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-7798178825955025402018-06-14T11:57:00.001-04:002018-06-14T11:57:38.322-04:00It Is No Small TaskIn the small church cooperation is essential. Most aspects of our life together are lay-lead (how Baptist!) and require everyone's participation. No one can really ride the pine in a small church, and here's the great news: At Scottsville Baptist I continually see folks bending over backwards to serve God. It is no small task to lead the small church, but together (and only together!) we do it.<br />
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Here are <i>a few </i>examples that come to mind today:<br />
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It is no small task to mow the church and parsonage lawns each week, but together we do it. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmb6UFhXgCiA0_dIhrCJ4y6ZFhYWVhpxQ8e6oh56WxRLKeQbX6NKBoeDcBC-aRXv9mRSwm84dWDi1HaAwhTq6U8M9C8X6jHCeh-5vJoDqGH-DzlR9hZUemwBgWB29awqY_43MTXeLMLFx/s1600/FullSizeRender+127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmb6UFhXgCiA0_dIhrCJ4y6ZFhYWVhpxQ8e6oh56WxRLKeQbX6NKBoeDcBC-aRXv9mRSwm84dWDi1HaAwhTq6U8M9C8X6jHCeh-5vJoDqGH-DzlR9hZUemwBgWB29awqY_43MTXeLMLFx/s320/FullSizeRender+127.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is no small task to host a Vacation Bible School for the community, but together we do it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65q18zRIs0qSslTMvyV9yOFJdTXHubIozNR3HVEh1PPSLW9F_q2aa1YHxHh7kkxwp6ObovBSRwsbC1b6yvBkTzf3zyx27plmdY1KLAIoGX33da-qLkuLqSoaNmBpoieSHpnBjbonTMJbK/s1600/FullSizeRender+124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65q18zRIs0qSslTMvyV9yOFJdTXHubIozNR3HVEh1PPSLW9F_q2aa1YHxHh7kkxwp6ObovBSRwsbC1b6yvBkTzf3zyx27plmdY1KLAIoGX33da-qLkuLqSoaNmBpoieSHpnBjbonTMJbK/s320/FullSizeRender+124.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is no small task to recruit nursery workers and teachers for our growing children's ministry, but together we do it.<br />
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It is no small task to paint the window sills. It is no small task to clean out the garbage cans, replace hard-to-reach lightbulbs, and sweep up messes you didn't make, but together we do it.<br />
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We are growing and grateful, and there is nothing small about our love for God. What a privilege to pastor Scottsville Baptist!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-85153339255582364072018-06-11T11:46:00.000-04:002018-06-11T14:15:41.610-04:00Shipwrecked Boat Destroys Television I love a party theme. Any time I can color-coordinate utensils, create table decor, and cheese-up the parsonage in general is a win. Want an Epiphany photo booth? I'm your lady. How about Olympic-themed snacks? I've got you covered. Did you want matching airbrushed shirts on family vacation? (This is a goal for summer 2018.) <br />
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So...</div>
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when I offered to host a send-off for Bruce & Alessandra, I insisted on a theme. 'Sail Away' was chosen and I was a happy camper since the VBS theme is 'Shipwrecked'! And thanks to VBS Director, Hallie, I had an anchor, palm trees, and a giant cardboard cutout of a ship with which to decorate. Mind you this ship is wrecked--so it wasn't <i>exactly</i> sailing anywhere--but close enough, right?</div>
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The party came and went (fun!), but as I folded up the 'Shipwrecked' cutout I knocked my television to the ground. The screen cracked and the television is toast. Stick a fork in it: It's done. </div>
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GRRR. I was so mad at myself. First: Why did I insist on a theme? Second: The ship was WRECKED. There would be no sailing in this ship. <u>This cutout was the antithesis of the theme. </u> Third: Why did I not catch the television as it plummeted to the ground? Fourth: Why?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubuB-UfOWwxl6cRxbx9GDHOMi5WicaFQ2K_AhJ9F4XpeXVKO186oc4QLk5yPBP5CK6uc8UTb050xXo2OTuJoPqVnTPe1WGBnctgZUy1Nr5xcAJBsMC9CZ6S3mPdclrkH0ef49byBZSW8J/s1600/FullSizeRender+118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubuB-UfOWwxl6cRxbx9GDHOMi5WicaFQ2K_AhJ9F4XpeXVKO186oc4QLk5yPBP5CK6uc8UTb050xXo2OTuJoPqVnTPe1WGBnctgZUy1Nr5xcAJBsMC9CZ6S3mPdclrkH0ef49byBZSW8J/s320/FullSizeRender+118.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the culprit in all its destructive glory</td></tr>
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Have you ever been mad at yourself? Have you ever replayed a mistake or misstep ad infinitum? If only I'd NOT insisted on a theme; if only I'd caught the television, if only, if only, if only...and this was an accident. What about those times we're mad at ourselves for good reason? What about those times we say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing? GRRR. I can get so mad at myself. It can be hard to let go, to move on, to accept forgiveness. </div>
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The Bible theme of VBS is Jesus Rescues. Starting tonight (!) we have the privilege of teaching children that Jesus rescues us from loneliness, worries, struggles, and wrongdoing. And perhaps I'll have the opportunity to tell the kids Jesus also rescues us from our inability to let go of our mistakes and missteps--like snapping at someone, holding a grudge, or even something small in the grand scheme (for example: breaking a television). I'm grateful for this privilege.</div>
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See you this evening!</div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-26269883996330351562018-04-23T16:37:00.000-04:002018-04-23T16:46:36.664-04:00Emmaus Bound (and I didn't know it)<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was up and at 'em this morning at work on a sermon, but after a few hours I needed a break. I decided to take a walk to the church, but as a devotee of multitasking I couldn't let this be a mere walk. Let's make this walk productive! <i>I can pick up a commentary, listen to a ministry podcast, and maybe burn a calorie or two.</i> Win, win, win!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I did not bat 1000 on this sojourn. The podcast was okay but nothing to write home about and I ended up forgetting my office key at home. Boo! I waved goodbye to my Anchor Bible Dictionary through the window and turned around. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's when I ran in to one of our church members, Clarence.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKefpL_1myZDww0bKcFSBYkViEHqPYot7Tg01NKehPo2iY4fO-izinmaF_5PhZUz0YGUjcWtLX0LgbK3iXS_4-NaR0g9rZje3XoxKRFcQK_0XoiL1Ec3aLwciNNVQFuV5QPFdTuKTbftKd/s1600/FullSizeRender+103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1342" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKefpL_1myZDww0bKcFSBYkViEHqPYot7Tg01NKehPo2iY4fO-izinmaF_5PhZUz0YGUjcWtLX0LgbK3iXS_4-NaR0g9rZje3XoxKRFcQK_0XoiL1Ec3aLwciNNVQFuV5QPFdTuKTbftKd/s320/FullSizeRender+103.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Clarence was on a walk like me, but unlike me Clarence was <i>actually</i> on a walk. He was unhurried and smiling. His arms carried tools and supplies. Seeing Clarence brightened my day. Together we walked and talked most of the way to the parsonage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday I preached on the Emmaus story, and it occurs to me now that my <i>trek-to-get-100-things-accomplished</i> transformed (thanks be to God!) into an Emmaus walk with a fellow disciple. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I miss the forest for the trees in my quest to serve. I'm grateful God is gracious to me anyway. Thank you God for today's grace.</span></div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-3926704736536408242018-04-04T11:17:00.003-04:002018-04-04T11:17:54.463-04:00Musical PewsAfter a meaningful Holy Week, we celebrated the resurrection of Jesus on Sunday. What a joyous day! The good news was palpable.<br />
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Since my brother and sister-in-law were visiting, I was excited about the prospect of sitting with family during worship. One of my favorite things about vacation is going to church and sitting with my family.<br />
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Most of us like sitting with our families during worship and perhaps especially so on holidays. Oftentimes family is visiting, we're gussied up in our Easter best, and we're looking forward to fun (egg hunting! ham!) with those we love. <br />
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Our pews filled up quickly on Sunday so it eventually became difficult to find a place to sit. During the welcome I saw someone searching for a place to sit, but thankfully she didn't have to look for long because one of our couples hopped right out of their pew to make room. It happened so fast I might as well call it a reflex. <br />
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This couple's race to give up their pew reminded me of the women at the tomb racing to tell the good news. This couple, like the women, proclaimed the gospel with their feet. They gave up their pew AND the opportunity to sit together (the wife sat with the visitor and the husband found a seat elsewhere).<br />
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What a gift to witness this unselfish act. <br />
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And while it may seem like a little thing, I've found "little" things rarely are little. They almost always point to a life of faithfulness in many "little" and big ways. <br />
<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256790919789850615.post-36770482597894536622018-03-30T10:17:00.003-04:002018-03-30T10:41:37.621-04:00Maundy Thursday<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks to Scottsville Baptist's creative worship planner, Joan, a lovely altar was arranged for our Maundy Thursday service. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It speaks volumes without saying a word.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPh9HaFAmD3rdLVzWJ9f2BeRHrxADJHiYdGIGXNAnqRDwUT50QBzfhf-mhMWevzSIPeX7_4GSXdcaFnGC7VmwU8csgIjbMi3v_LZVv4khfh-N4u2f65DnhB_jDC_x76giro66F1OD252m5/s1600/29541679_1005368746277848_8702280903373045535_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPh9HaFAmD3rdLVzWJ9f2BeRHrxADJHiYdGIGXNAnqRDwUT50QBzfhf-mhMWevzSIPeX7_4GSXdcaFnGC7VmwU8csgIjbMi3v_LZVv4khfh-N4u2f65DnhB_jDC_x76giro66F1OD252m5/s320/29541679_1005368746277848_8702280903373045535_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Maundy Thursday is a needed reminder of the sacrificial love of Jesus. We are glad to share his love; however it is much more difficult to receive it. Remember Peter? "Lord are you going to wash my feet?" We echo his words so often. Receiving requires humility.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Allowing someone to wash our feet is uncomfortable. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">It is also insanely beautiful.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbLuiTGblpnO6U227dK6CmkkzlyX3bPRRJhtSSls5SvrQ-mXhEeS6VxkjLhd_coL92dV1W3F99TBdcccHZ1jjDmTCV70YtFAPJP6UnYsVYawJpAE4XySvv4JRKKmH9YlLCSiHrdr1n0qw/s1600/fullsizeoutput_e33.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbLuiTGblpnO6U227dK6CmkkzlyX3bPRRJhtSSls5SvrQ-mXhEeS6VxkjLhd_coL92dV1W3F99TBdcccHZ1jjDmTCV70YtFAPJP6UnYsVYawJpAE4XySvv4JRKKmH9YlLCSiHrdr1n0qw/s320/fullsizeoutput_e33.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We see and touch the sacrificial love of Jesus for us in this act. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgAYwP9sIMELA9TaGwR1CclEOClXmtQcVmDWmKKMBVc3srzHJodMjO8-7mI1wJLhX-FqDAdVnA9Fi1jVYzZNDs4sbeJAaaXZTS4h9lTGhu6hg50hmcI93Wu8jzIVWLWBoyngqXaskYdY1/s1600/fullsizeoutput_e36.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgAYwP9sIMELA9TaGwR1CclEOClXmtQcVmDWmKKMBVc3srzHJodMjO8-7mI1wJLhX-FqDAdVnA9Fi1jVYzZNDs4sbeJAaaXZTS4h9lTGhu6hg50hmcI93Wu8jzIVWLWBoyngqXaskYdY1/s320/fullsizeoutput_e36.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We weep, laugh, embrace, smile, and exchange words of love. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpklLuouTpUKL_xAdVl-6Si8H2DuqGz8XntYb41cglyg6fKnx0ngWwpUVelBQHAuO-hPQkmdVAyhKkrZUfFwtuJhh06JA9btckJNVGpev1y0ZXHOZECByD7caCkZtonfhLSEvq209BhBC/s1600/fullsizeoutput_e35.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpklLuouTpUKL_xAdVl-6Si8H2DuqGz8XntYb41cglyg6fKnx0ngWwpUVelBQHAuO-hPQkmdVAyhKkrZUfFwtuJhh06JA9btckJNVGpev1y0ZXHOZECByD7caCkZtonfhLSEvq209BhBC/s320/fullsizeoutput_e35.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Almost all feet are dried with the same towel--retired feet, children's feet, and I-rushed-here-from-work feet. Some wash the feet of strangers; others wash the feet of spouses, parents, and friends. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKGSAlxVmBovy28EnzKYKU8ZF9zT8LIYwT0NN6q8e8U_RFSQQ-5PZt-M8YgO3GD2k8Q90962JFtf6VvKTC5eNp5iqGxfHeblhf_DQy8t-VMfo23HzlvBnWfrZSO3ZrA4IdoCNOkFgXs6z/s1600/fullsizeoutput_e38.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKGSAlxVmBovy28EnzKYKU8ZF9zT8LIYwT0NN6q8e8U_RFSQQ-5PZt-M8YgO3GD2k8Q90962JFtf6VvKTC5eNp5iqGxfHeblhf_DQy8t-VMfo23HzlvBnWfrZSO3ZrA4IdoCNOkFgXs6z/s320/fullsizeoutput_e38.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is a picture of the kingdom of love inaugurated by Jesus Christ.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am grateful. </span></div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01107428214435356931noreply@blogger.com0