<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607</id><updated>2011-07-30T09:25:36.462-04:00</updated><category term='strength'/><category term='spring'/><category term='hope'/><category term='tulips'/><category term='encouragement'/><title type='text'>Where there are Butterflies...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8933676109985608884</id><published>2010-11-01T15:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T16:19:17.318-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Saints Day</title><content type='html'>I have enjoyed following the liturgical calendar for many years.   But I'm finding new meaning today in the celebration of the Eucharist and the note on the calendar that declares this day as a celebration for all saints - for the known and unknown who are now at rest.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a day when I'm reading about the lives of precious women and men of God, and how they committed themselves to following the Way, I'm pressed again by how easy it is to be consumed with our daily mundane lives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder how the saints lived in the small moments of their day.  Were they feeding the sick and tending to the poor, as Blessed Teresa of Calcutta?  Were they reading the scriptures and pondering on their meanings?  Did they simply look up from tending the chickens and cows to notice the changing of the seasons?   Did they leave those simple tasks to make their way to a church or a small grove, and offer up their songs of praise to the Creator of Heaven?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, as quickly as my mind lingers onto such lofty thoughts, with a sip of coffee, and a 'ping' on my computer, I'm consumed by the mundane and busyness of daily life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps contemplation is best left to those who do not find technology so amusing :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in an effort to make today a bit more productive, between finishing some laundry and writing a few emails, I'll try to find some good walking shoes and also try to take in an evening mass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humble prayer, hopefully.  And a celebration, with thanksgiving, in the communion of the saints - on a special day of their remembrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we pray for unity and also for renewal in Christ.  Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8933676109985608884?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8933676109985608884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8933676109985608884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8933676109985608884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8933676109985608884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2010/11/all-saints-day.html' title='All Saints Day'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8193635144603779195</id><published>2010-10-27T14:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T14:44:39.007-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to start again</title><content type='html'>Hello all :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's interesting to see how quickly the time goes.  Last year had so many incredible changes for me.  I am also realizing how contemplative I become when I'm going through changes and inner healing.  I literally 'cocoon'.   And when I realize that, then I smile and remember that I really should write and post some of the important moments along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last year,  I've changed just about everything, except for my home... and there are many long lists of unfinished projects with my home as well.   Sorting through and eliminating SOME of the clutter is fairly high on that list.   The only other constant is my love of Christ.  And yet there have been many deeply painful and beautiful moments of growth with my understanding of His love for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been an incredible year.   Overwhelmingly beautiful.  Full of prayer, travel, fellowship, and friends.  Including a couple of visits from dear friends who haven't minded the messiness of my home.  It is so nice to be loved, even in the chaos of everyday life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Sandra - for finding this blog and leaving an encouraging comment.  Through you,  I'm reminded again of the little promptings that have become louder and louder  to 'start again'.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so - here it is, my first post in over a year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankfully emerging from my cocoon.  My wings are still a little wet, but they will dry, and soon, I will fly again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8193635144603779195?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8193635144603779195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8193635144603779195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8193635144603779195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8193635144603779195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2010/10/time-to-start-again.html' title='Time to start again'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5678992404049559640</id><published>2009-08-23T15:38:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T19:37:28.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A regular Sunday.</title><content type='html'>It's been a very wet summer. It was a nice way to wake up, listening to the rain. Smelling the breeze. Actually, I could almost taste it. My backyard is in full bloom with butterfly bushes and lavender. My roses are still managing though I've neglected them this year, and the Rose of Sharon my mom planted has pretty purple flowers. I breathed in the deep fragrance of summer before I stumbled into my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is much work to be done around the house, both inside and out. So I needed to make a decision - spend Sunday with music in the background at home or head out to church. I decided to go to worship with friends, rather than stay alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is good to be missed by friends. A phone call came earlier in the week from someone who had been wondering where I'd been, asking if I was okay. One person seemed concerned whether or not I was still alive. It really hasn't been that long, perhaps a month since I was at this particular service. Storms kept me home one weekend, I was travelling on another, and for another I was simply too tired to make the drive safely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway - today, I ventured out. And before I could even get in the doorway, I was greeted by friends who came quickly to hug me. (I needed that!) Two had mentioned that I had been deeply on their hearts this week and that they had been praying. (I needed to hear that too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was also a day for singing! The worship team is always an interesting mix. It usually starts out relatively organized, but it quickly changes to a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;free form that is&lt;/span&gt; sometimes very raw, and often quite organic. I like that ... today, in the quiet... a couple of friends and I started to sing a different song than the one from the front... and then everyone joined in... we 'hovered' there for several minutes... and then more worship, a couple of hours or so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesson today was from John 8. Straight forward, and much of the scriptures were directly quoted. The service ended with corporate and individual prayer and many hugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of the regulars are still enjoying 'brunch' at a nearby diner. I decided to come home instead. I am &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;grateful&lt;/span&gt; to see these friends again, but I'm very tired. And the regular household chores need to be done (trust me, it's really the minimum I can get by with). Dishes from last week are still sitting in the sink. I have some plants sitting in a glass on my counter that need to be planted... and of course, I need clean laundry for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a 'regular' Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's been a great one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5678992404049559640?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5678992404049559640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5678992404049559640' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5678992404049559640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5678992404049559640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/08/regular-sunday.html' title='A regular Sunday.'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3223296217189127185</id><published>2009-08-22T17:55:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T19:29:30.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Krakow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SpGhol3O5EI/AAAAAAAAAgU/NoFuI7ah9fk/s1600-h/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373253549160326210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SpGhol3O5EI/AAAAAAAAAgU/NoFuI7ah9fk/s320/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Greetings...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since I last posted. I always have a lot that I could write and post in a space like this, but it's finding the time. Work is busy, and my life seems busier all the time, though I also doing less and less it seems. But I did manage to take a special trip this year, and my heart continues to process the many images, ideas and sounds I heard, as I made an unanticipated pilgrimage to Krakow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My travels often take me to new places, both physically and spiritually. I'm deeply thankful to have walked the roads I've stumbled along this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In May, I visited friends in the Czech Republic. They are precious people serving God in an adopted home. I am honoured to have been invited into their day-to-day living, and see anew how they have stepped into their calling. (I hope to post more on that another time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that journey to dream with some friends... led me 'home' in many ways as well. My roots are from Poland. I was able to connect with a distant cousin and attended mass in a beautiful part of old town Krakow. My heart will never be the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With people I never knew and will never know. With words spoken in a language that I don't know, but sound too familiar... there were many moments in the mass that I found myself responding, not in English, but whispering in unison with those in attendance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've dismissed that as simply the power of unity in prayer... of somehow picking up on the rhythm and heart of those I worshipping with. But something, deep within my spirit... whispered to me in those moments as well... a quiet knowing, that I didn't know what I was saying, but at the same time... I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered later if I simply remembered the words from the earliest days of my childhood...attending mass with my mom, before we were able to attend Sunday school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I know, is that for a moment, I loved the city and its people. And I was changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am changed every time I encounter Jesus (as it should be).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I absolutely love it when those moments happen in church! More and more, I'm being drawn to witness the beauty in old parishes... and I love to see those who continue to gather in deep respect and humble prayer towards our Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day in Krakow, I saw many beautiful people attending mass. It was a first confirmation for many -- little girls dressed in white gowns...boys all clean cut... even the ones with tussled hair and families scrambling to get a seat before the priests came to the main altar....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The city was alive! Yes there were tourists everywhere, and the crowds of folks just getting to and from the shopping areas, and students milling about between university classes....but I saw, thanks to a new friend... so many people offering themselves, and receiving the Host. It brought me such joy to see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were dozens of churches within walking distance of the main square. I must have walked into six or seven of them while mass was being offered. Ornate cathedrals, even the 'little' side churches along the way.... some full, some nearly empty, but in all of them I found souls who were humble before Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to see that. I know the reports are that the church in Poland is in decline, but I didn't notice. What I saw were the faithful, gathering and praying. Kneeling. Confessing. Singing. Worshipping....with trembling lips, and bowed hearts. It was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day of that trip was a blessing. Each day, was full of beautiful people - some closely walking with and loving Jesus.... some still searching...others fully caught up in their own way of life. It was glorious and beautiful. And a reminder that 'home' is not always where I expect it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't managed to sort through pictures yet. In time perhaps. But here is an image of something that made me smile. I love the story... and the day I was there was sunny like in this video... and the bird chased around the spires for hours...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-acb8dc00a13c6cf3" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dacb8dc00a13c6cf3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4FC229226B80B190A7774A5C8385F83BE17472BB.8019DEC74138F45836AFF512C6D4D6CCC5E2C167%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dacb8dc00a13c6cf3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DB3MLwgqfvDn47ugapjt8fDBGq6U&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dacb8dc00a13c6cf3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4FC229226B80B190A7774A5C8385F83BE17472BB.8019DEC74138F45836AFF512C6D4D6CCC5E2C167%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dacb8dc00a13c6cf3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DB3MLwgqfvDn47ugapjt8fDBGq6U&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3223296217189127185?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=acb8dc00a13c6cf3&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3223296217189127185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3223296217189127185' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3223296217189127185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3223296217189127185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/08/remembering-krakow-st-marys-and-others.html' title='Remembering Krakow'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SpGhol3O5EI/AAAAAAAAAgU/NoFuI7ah9fk/s72-c/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6015979337509262290</id><published>2009-03-28T11:08:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T14:45:01.007-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A lazy start to a Saturday...</title><content type='html'>It's a lazy Saturday so far, but the swirl of family life has consumed me again. I have always been fairly sensitive to events going on near and far, to my general surroundings, and to the emotions of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In different seasons, my heart is numb - and often I prefer those seasons, but today, I'm feeling everything it seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the news articles catching my attention include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- the &lt;a href="http://ca.news.yahoo.com/nphotos/slideshow/ss/events/wl/20070912_indonesia/im:/27032009/2/photo/world-indonesian-soldiers-search-victims-neighborhood-swept-flash-flood-dam.html#photoViewer=/27032009/6/photo/photos-n-world-residence-searches-damaged-house-outskirts-jakarta.html"&gt;pictures &lt;/a&gt;of the flood near Jakarta, including graphic imagery of the toll again in human life (I would hop on a plane if I could to help with the clean up)&lt;br /&gt;- a &lt;a href="http://news.therecord.com/News/Local/article/511209"&gt;memorial &lt;/a&gt;from speakers corners in my hometown, saying goodbye to Martin - a homeless man who tugged on the hearts of so many&lt;br /&gt;- the cresting waters the Red River&lt;br /&gt;- the curious scurry of attention towards &lt;a href="http://news.therecord.com/News/CanadaWorld/article/511237"&gt;'earth hour'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is also interesting to watch the tides in the financial waters these days, but my heart and mind are drawn towards the suffering of those who have forgotten about the economy for a while.... And yet, the tidal waves cresting in the financial streams continue to threaten others possibly with as much force as hit those near the dam in Jakarta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Closer to home, one brother is recovering from a lifetime battle with an addition. His health seems to be slowly improving as he crawls out of the pit he made for himself. In his words to me this morning, he's actually ready to start living his life, looking forward to it, rather than just waiting for death. His choices have cost him dearly in the past, but he choices now are bringing new life and new hope. And my dad, is still faithfully helping him step by step. He's an elderly man now, but the gentleness that has come into him shows me grace like I've never understood it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As this story of recovery is happening, another brother is facing a divorce after 20+ years. His wife isn't' happy, and she is just moving on. She has bought a new house and is pushing for him to sell the one they had built together. It seems all quite sudden to him. No time for counselling, no time to even let their kids finish out the school year in their present home. She's made a decision to get on with the rest of her life, and everyone is needing to fit around her plans. Clearly the story is yet to unfold as to how they got to this point, and how they will recover. But the flood of emotions is high for everyone involved. It's not the way marriage is supposed to be...but it is too frequently the case. And today, I'm feeling the trauma of that in a number of ways that are surprising, even to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I slowly got up, after connecting with family, I was trying to shake off certain feelings - trying to find a bit of hope in my heart, I took a shower, and thought it was time for a bit of fresh air in this place. So, I opened up the window in my bathroom. I had expected to see the sun, but at least it made me laugh as i pulled open the blinds. I didn't immediately see the sunshine that I'd been expecting. About 40 house flies were suddenly grouped on the little screen - blocking that fresh spring air. Seriously. It wasn't hard to kill the ones on the inside of the screen... they moved quite slowly... I just hadn't been in a 'killing mood'... and it wasn't how I'd planned on starting my spring cleaning this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's how it often goes doesn't it? We do what we need to do, when we need to do it, even when we are tired and hoping for something different...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our response... well it's our response. We can choose how we will respond. Just like my brothers must choose their steps, I will choose mine too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I choose to pray with those who are grieving. I will hold them close, at least in my heart. I will hope and encourage those who are taking difficult steps towards a new life. I might have to kill a few bugs along the way. But I'll look for the sunshine, and fresh air. I will anticipate the lilacs and lillies that will soon bloom. And even as I say goodbye to some friends who are heading out on a new journey, I'll start taking a few new wobbly steps of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring is coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tulips will peak through the frosts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then again, there will be roses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6015979337509262290?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6015979337509262290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6015979337509262290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6015979337509262290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6015979337509262290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/03/lazy-start-to-saturday.html' title='A lazy start to a Saturday...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-683053246400684250</id><published>2009-03-22T22:21:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T22:21:42.472-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fire pour down....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/a3spvQYlB-I' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/a3spvQYlB-I'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This song continues to echo throughout my days.   It is the cry of my heart, but I also pray that it is the cry of the church.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know Jesus? &lt;br /&gt;Do you spend time with him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know people in whom he resides?&lt;br /&gt;Do you spend time with them?&lt;br /&gt;Do you love them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you spend time loving those who have yet to touch the flame?   What causes you to relent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what causes me to relent?&lt;br /&gt;Will you relent if you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus asks him to know him... &lt;br /&gt;and I'm thankful that He never relents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seeks our hearts until they are fully restored.&lt;br /&gt;Mine, yours... Jim's, Joe's...&lt;br /&gt;the lady at the coffee shop...&lt;br /&gt;the guy on the street corner...&lt;br /&gt;the couple walking their dog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His passion is full and complete.&lt;br /&gt;His passion isn't given into silence.&lt;br /&gt;He loves us, &lt;br /&gt;Relentlessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 103.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-683053246400684250?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/683053246400684250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=683053246400684250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/683053246400684250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/683053246400684250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/03/fire-pour-down_22.html' title='fire pour down....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8760720495009049909</id><published>2009-03-16T08:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T09:17:33.987-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Fire pour down"</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"For you are great, and do wonderous things;&lt;br /&gt;You alone are God."   Psalm 86.10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am amazed at how Jesus continues to fill my life to replace things that are lost or stolen.  Friends come and go.  Seasons change.  But the Lord is the same always. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I've been attending a church that challenges me on many levels, but the depth of relationship and genuine caring is having a profound affect in our worship.  There is freedom to come as you are, with the baggage of the week, and have that dusted off... there is freedom to laugh, freedom to cry, freedom to speak to the Lord, and freedom to share about how the Lord has touched your heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Fire pour down' became the chorus yesterday.  It came from a Misty Edwards song about how Jesus won't relent until he has all of us.   It was overwhelming to watch four generations worship in unison...tears in the eyes of most of the people in the room... three churches gathered, simply to say 'thank you Lord, that you won't relent until you have all of me'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched for a bit... and was thankful to do so.  But, as is generally the case these days, in seeing and feeling the genuine cry of his people, my heart melted, and I too joined in the chorus of worshippers... surrounded by many friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service which started around 10 am, didn't end until shortly after 4.  The 'crowd' just didn't want to move.  The sermon was roughly 40 minutes somewhere in between.  The congregation was feeling the press of the season changing.  Many will be leaving soon and heading back to the countries and cities from which they come.  The school they've been attending has finished, and the friendships, though deeply treasured, will morph into something new.... or fade into memory.  Either way, there was a deep fellowship, and profound healing yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week, there is a potluck dinner.  We all laughed at the announcement because someone wanted to know when it would start.  The response from the pastor was 'we don't know...Let's just say about 1/2 hour after the service ends'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great day.  And today, I'm still singing the praises of my saviour, and remembering new and old friends.  "Fire pour down on us we pray".   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the Holy, Purifying fire of the Holy Spirit rest on you today, wherever you are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8760720495009049909?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8760720495009049909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8760720495009049909' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8760720495009049909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8760720495009049909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/03/fire-pour-down.html' title='&quot;Fire pour down&quot;'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5712267207285871392</id><published>2009-03-14T10:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T10:12:59.814-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grace...</title><content type='html'>Where sin is increased, grace increased all the more.  Romans 5:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was flipping through an old hymnal this morning. I realize more and more that I love these precious words of those who created song without the use of modern day tools.  The rythems are often not what we would like to hear, but the words are precious, and speak to such deep truths...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grace Greater than our Sin&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,&lt;br /&gt;Grace that exceeds our sin and guilt!&lt;br /&gt;Yonder on Calvary's mount outpoured&lt;br /&gt;There where the bolld of the Lamb was spilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sin and despair, like the seawaves cold, &lt;br /&gt;Threaten the sould with infinite loss;&lt;br /&gt;Grace that is greater - yes, grace untold.&lt;br /&gt;Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace, &lt;br /&gt;Freely bestowed on all who believe!&lt;br /&gt;You that are longing to see His face, &lt;br /&gt;Will you this moment His grace receive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;Grace, Grace, God's grace.&lt;br /&gt;Grace that will pardon and cleanse within&lt;br /&gt;Grace, Grace, God's grace.&lt;br /&gt;Grace that is greater than all our sin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5712267207285871392?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5712267207285871392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5712267207285871392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5712267207285871392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5712267207285871392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/03/grace.html' title='Grace...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-7673989746081747436</id><published>2009-02-22T21:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:51:26.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>..from an old card...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I Believe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hope survives,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;prevails,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tears &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cleanse, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;memories&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;comfort,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;faith&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;soothes,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;good thoughts&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;reassure.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still reading alot, and remembering some deep moments from the last couple of weeks. I'll share more shortly.  Isaiah 43v1-13  strongly on my heart again, but other verses too. (Luke 22, 2 Kings, Mark, and some other parts of Isaiah).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-7673989746081747436?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/7673989746081747436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=7673989746081747436' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7673989746081747436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7673989746081747436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/02/from-old-card.html' title='..from an old card...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-4693156555747717575</id><published>2009-02-08T07:16:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:21:37.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You said.. part 2.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY6Z01wNv1I/AAAAAAAAAa8/Ydsn__72OW0/s1600-h/100_2242.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300342944523206482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY6Z01wNv1I/AAAAAAAAAa8/Ydsn__72OW0/s400/100_2242.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My house isn't very tidy. You will see something laying about just about everywhere you look. This particular table sits at the top of the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. It holds many little treasures. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm a collector of sorts, not of any one thing in particular but there is a definite theme: just about everything reminds me of special promises which are a little too close to my heart to really believe they are true. Moments where the Lord spoke to my heart, or taught me something about who He really is... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll describe a few items from this particular table, which holds many favourite things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love the expressions of John Paul II and Mother Teresa (Karol and Agnes) in this precious moment. They have inspired me for many years. As I walk by this table, I am reminded each morning and each night to be a sister to everyone. I sometimes forget to be that way by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs. But when I get home, or make my way to bed, I am reminded again when I see their joy in greeting a cherished sibling. It pierces and softens my heart. On good days, I rejoice with them. On particularly bad days, well...I become thankful for their very human example and entrust myself to Jesus again, ever leaning on grace to rest from the day that has just ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can find railway spikes in various places in my house (and garage), but the four pictured here are special and set apart from the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The broken shell, and little girl with the dove remind me of who I am, in different ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The statues are tokens from relief projects: women holding water jars for an African well project, and girl hugging a little boy for a life center in Romania. That little boy was named Christian and was living in the streets. On the day he climbed out of a sewer (literally) to give a hug to a Christian missionary because he thought she was sad. She was the daughter of a famous pastor. He sniffed glue to keep himself content with his circumstances. But even with that, he recognized the grief on her face. So he went to give her comfort. The hug they shared, captured in bronze, reminds me of how precious each of us are regardless of where and how we live. (If memory serves, this boy didn't even know about Jesus until that day, but his story touched many hearts...including mine.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is a stone shaped like Africa, and a fossilized shell, markers from a hike up a mountain on Thanksgiving day a couple years back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Arrowheads and some other stones, and a few gifts from family. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My whole house has little corners like this one. Reminders of special moments and promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might think I spend all my time looking back. I do get nostalgic, but at work I'm a planner. My role is to look forward, and anticipate what needs to get done, and set things in motion to get them done. I'm not neat or orderly in how I do it, but I am usually effective. But it's that critical thinking and looking toward the horizon that can also be my biggest stumbling block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I need to remember and be reminded of promises. I need to rest more and enjoy the depth and complexity of the little moments. I need these visual glimpses to see and hear what Jesus has done, and is doing in my life. In a flash, as my eyes fall ever so quickly on these 'things' I remember the blessing; sometimes I wince realizing my heart has hardened again. Either way, I often drop to my knees, or at least humble my heart, and softly whisper words of thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this relate to "You said", and that song from the prior post?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, one of the common questions in my internal dialogue is this: "&lt;em&gt;Did Jesus really say that&lt;/em&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm one of those who thinks they really talk with Jesus regularly. And yes, most days I believe I hear from Him. But I don't always remember that what He says are actually promises - Somehow, I easily forget the continuing and ever present truth of the I AM. (The scriptures are full of promises, I know, but I doubt them far too frequently. Perhaps I never really believed or understood them? But even the parts I think I believe, I begin to question.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am often struck by these 'inner words', because it was Satan who first them in a dialogue with Eve, (Genesis 3: "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?") Yes, it is good to question - sometimes. Yes, it is good to validate who is really speaking, even in our internal dialogues. It's not my desire to agree with satan or feed my doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far better to speak with Jesus, than about him, even with myself. The question is quite different from simply saying...You said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I place "&lt;a href="http://http//www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=6&amp;amp;chapter=4&amp;amp;version=51"&gt;standing stones&lt;/a&gt;". Many are literally stones from special walks, but there are many things I've picked up along the way. Even in a passing glance, my mind...heart, soul, and spirit, can be filled with images, words and hope in Jesus Christ. They allow me to hear again just by seeing quick glimpses of 'things'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially these days, as I look around my home, my heart swells with praise, because Lord, "You said"...so many beautiful things. You are faithful and worthy of our trust. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=47&amp;amp;chapter=8&amp;amp;version=31"&gt;Matthew 8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-4693156555747717575?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/4693156555747717575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=4693156555747717575' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4693156555747717575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4693156555747717575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-said-part-2.html' title='You said.. part 2.'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY6Z01wNv1I/AAAAAAAAAa8/Ydsn__72OW0/s72-c/100_2242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5488533528555586879</id><published>2009-02-07T09:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T09:48:47.267-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning to stand again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/nnai5kc36bs' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/nnai5kc36bs'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The year has started in a powerful way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New years was spent worshipping with some friends who really love Jesus. We gathered to listen to a friend launch her CD and then continued to sing praises for another 3 hours. And just as midnight struck, another friend.. prayed for the group that had gathered.. and tears filled most of our eyes as she welcomed each of us to come to the table to receive bread and wine in an offering to Jesus the whole of ourselves for this next year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I got home that night, the phone started ringing (past 2 am) with calls related to work. I received word that they had finished a critical job around 9am. It made for a very interesting welcome into 2009. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words we sang, the prayers that were said.. so much reflected the year where I had been and the direction for this year as well. And like most times, I tried to bury those words.. they are too much to believe in...and I pretend that they weren't for me, or that I simply didn't hear them in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did that a lot of last year. I did that for most of January. But, something has shifted for me this week. (Finally?) And I'm beginning to find my feet again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm remembering some of the promises and some of the joy that came in those deep and special moments when the Lord calls me to hear... and I'm in a place where I'm again able to stand on some of those words with joy in my heart and sing some of it back to him. This song below is one that reflects some of my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember singing this particular song in the hills of Rwanda. That memory alone is enough to bring a smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you remember what the Lord has spoken as promises to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And remind yourself of his faithfulness... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5488533528555586879?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5488533528555586879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5488533528555586879' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5488533528555586879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5488533528555586879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/02/learning-to-stand-again_1037.html' title='Learning to stand again...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-4965097456641390139</id><published>2008-12-25T11:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T12:45:09.347-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mary, did you know?</title><content type='html'>I am enjoying this Christmas morning.   They skies are bright and sunny.   There is a calm just presently in the city.  And my mind and heart are stirred to praying for the nations.  As is common with me, I'm reflecting back over times when I've stood in deep moments of prayer, in different places in the world.   Kwanzaa candles, a Menorah and a Christ Candle help set the mood.  The flames against the brightly lit snow still have a sparkle.  They remind me that today is a day to remember the joy that comes when the gift of the Holy Spirit is received.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray you enjoy family today, however that is defined for you.  That you are reminded of the Life if Christ.   And that you freely receive all that was given to you in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I'm drawing closer to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, and I'm asking questions about how they really lived their life on earth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video reflects those thoughts, and prayers.  The song is one I've loved for years, and the images are from the movie, The Passion.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas all.  May the Lord Bless you and keep you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-f596e40db5bed00e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Df596e40db5bed00e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D8727B326897DE4328AC0767DB8870001F87984C.3D14FC89957F0FFB3DDBD785EB440E012649AAB4%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Df596e40db5bed00e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSZmH9GVNDRmfmDrD712CY0uNpBs&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Df596e40db5bed00e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D8727B326897DE4328AC0767DB8870001F87984C.3D14FC89957F0FFB3DDBD785EB440E012649AAB4%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Df596e40db5bed00e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSZmH9GVNDRmfmDrD712CY0uNpBs&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-4965097456641390139?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=f596e40db5bed00e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/4965097456641390139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=4965097456641390139' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4965097456641390139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4965097456641390139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/12/mary-did-you-know.html' title='Mary, did you know?'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8771560913194703199</id><published>2008-12-14T00:29:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T00:54:02.312-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer....</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;These words are from an old book on the mass... but it speaks my heart tonight. Will you join me in praying for the nations, for our Church? I pray these words touch your heart as they did mine. May they echo in your spirit as you read them:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Lord, it is not for myself alone I now do pray, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;for selfish prayer is scarce a prayer at all;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;But for all these, Your people, seen and unseen, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;for those who bear Your blessed Sign, for these I pray;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Nor do I now forget those others who know You not, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;or who, knowing, have forsaken Your way:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;For we are one in You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;With all these, then, I join in that appointed invocation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;which Your church does place upon our lips today;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;For to each day is given its own singular fashion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;wherewith to praise You and to pray to You;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;That praying thus our lasting wish may come to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;And we may grasp that which alone abides.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;From an undivided heart, and in child-like spirit, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To all these prayers I do myself unite,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;As Your church in due humility does now pour out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;inwords of plain and forceful sense, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Humanity's fear of oppression, famine, evil deeds,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and its need of the dew of Your Love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Thus guided by the saints whom we do now recall,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Be they close or distant, familiar or scarce known,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;I join the age-long cloud of witnesses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;in ranks unbroken and unceasing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;While with these lips You've given me, I frame the Church's prayer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;And strive to reach the foot of Your Eternal Throne.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en-gb.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=2229254&amp;amp;id=669791132&amp;amp;ref=mf"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;סלה&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=23&amp;amp;chapter=84&amp;amp;version=51&amp;amp;context=chapter"&gt;Psalm 84&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8771560913194703199?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8771560913194703199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8771560913194703199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8771560913194703199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8771560913194703199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/12/prayer.html' title='Prayer....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5611205595310639957</id><published>2008-11-14T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T20:28:37.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweetly Broken...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Called out of death, and into life."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-893132bb25e98ac8" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D893132bb25e98ac8%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D796AA9B00BDAD20754A2B9542C8E1B60737C2D08.6C6D5A88EE2B710D65142CA9D45025EDBC58F60E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D893132bb25e98ac8%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DtApNm3t3Z9EQBYciJK-AlYgHv_o&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D893132bb25e98ac8%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329951734%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D796AA9B00BDAD20754A2B9542C8E1B60737C2D08.6C6D5A88EE2B710D65142CA9D45025EDBC58F60E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D893132bb25e98ac8%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DtApNm3t3Z9EQBYciJK-AlYgHv_o&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This song, and many of the images in this video reflect many moments from this past year. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Many of those moments shaped my heart - breaking me - and helping me love just a little bit better. I pray you have moments along the path, under trees, with flowers....holding onto crosses...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jesus, draw me gently to my knees, let me be fully surrendered.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll be sweetly broken...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%20103&amp;amp;version=31"&gt;Psalm 103&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5611205595310639957?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=893132bb25e98ac8&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5611205595310639957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5611205595310639957' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5611205595310639957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5611205595310639957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/11/sweetly-broken.html' title='Sweetly Broken...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-7782287482868136896</id><published>2008-10-23T21:09:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T22:00:12.977-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep places...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SQEgnEF9vSI/AAAAAAAAASk/eQkfIak4fGs/s1600-h/grotto+11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260521695231196450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SQEgnEF9vSI/AAAAAAAAASk/eQkfIak4fGs/s320/grotto+11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you sometimes wonder why it takes me so long to write a post... well, I could say it is because I'm really busy with work, or that life in general has consumed me once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that isn't often the reason. While life does get very busy, the space between posts is more likely to mean that I'm processing something deep that is going on in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in this spot recently, and was profoundly moved by what I saw, felt, and heard. There really are no words to say how deeply this place touched my heart.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't plan on making a pilgrimage that day, I was just being a tourist on the east coast of this country that I love. I asked the Lord to show me his heart for his people...and He led me here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Isaiah 43 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;1 But now, this is what the LORD says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;He who created you, O Jacob,&lt;br /&gt;he who formed you, O Israel:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;&lt;br /&gt;I have summoned you by name; you are mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 When you pass through the waters,&lt;br /&gt;I will be with you;&lt;br /&gt;and when you pass through the rivers,&lt;br /&gt;they will not sweep over you.&lt;br /&gt;When you walk through the fire,&lt;br /&gt;you will not be burned;&lt;br /&gt;the flames will not set you ablaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 For I am the LORD, your God,&lt;br /&gt;the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;&lt;br /&gt;I give Egypt for your ransom,&lt;br /&gt;Cush and Seba in your stead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 Since you are precious and honored in my sight,&lt;br /&gt;and because I love you,&lt;br /&gt;I will give men in exchange for you,&lt;br /&gt;and people in exchange for your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Do not be afraid, for I am with you;&lt;br /&gt;I will bring your children from the east&lt;br /&gt;and gather you from the west.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 I will say to the north, 'Give them up!'&lt;br /&gt;and to the south, 'Do not hold them back.'&lt;br /&gt;Bring my sons from afar&lt;br /&gt;and my daughters from the ends of the earth -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 everyone who is called by my name,&lt;br /&gt;whom I created for my glory,&lt;br /&gt;whom I formed and made."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 Lead out those who have eyes but are blind,&lt;br /&gt;who have ears but are deaf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 All the nations gather together&lt;br /&gt;and the peoples assemble.&lt;br /&gt;Which of them foretold this&lt;br /&gt;and proclaimed to us the former things?&lt;br /&gt;Let them bring in their witnesses to&lt;br /&gt;prove they were right, so that others may hear&lt;br /&gt;and say, "It is true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;"and my servant whom I have chosen,&lt;br /&gt;so that you may know and believe me&lt;br /&gt;and understand that I am he.&lt;br /&gt;Before me no god was formed,&lt;br /&gt;nor will there be one after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 I, even I, am the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;and apart from me there is no savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-7782287482868136896?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/7782287482868136896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=7782287482868136896' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7782287482868136896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7782287482868136896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/10/deep-places.html' title='Deep places...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SQEgnEF9vSI/AAAAAAAAASk/eQkfIak4fGs/s72-c/grotto+11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6748194323578311060</id><published>2008-10-09T08:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T08:31:00.077-04:00</updated><title type='text'>On distant shores....</title><content type='html'>When I'm at work, my days are scattered. The bombardment of questions starts pretty much as soon as I arrive, and ends only when either I leave or the others get tired of waiting in line. Seems strange to me (I'm an accountant). If I was in a call center I'd understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, even with the chaos in the markets, I have a reprive for a few days. Friends of mine are getting married this weekend ... and as a result I get to step away from the office for a few days and even get to spend time near deep waters.... and let my mind rest for a bit, and my body too. And of course, see a beautiful couple exchange their vows before God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm sure there will be lots of time to engage with friends, I plan on getting some much needed alone time with the Lord. I'll sit somewhere, with the scriptures and play a few worship Cds. At the moment, there is no journal in my purse to capture notes. I may pick up one along the way, but I'm thinking it's time to just listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my very favorite things is to get really still, and just hear the rythm of the wind and the waves blend with my heartbeat. I'm thankful and excited to do just that this weekend, with family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For however you choose to spend Thanks Giving, I hope it's with people you treasure and full of activities you truly enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%2097&amp;amp;version=31"&gt;Psalm 97&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6748194323578311060?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6748194323578311060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6748194323578311060' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6748194323578311060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6748194323578311060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/10/on-distant-shores.html' title='On distant shores....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-2602524767426419872</id><published>2008-10-05T09:32:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:27:17.031-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The saints among us....</title><content type='html'>I like these old polish saints. This quote is from Sister Mary Faustina: "Neither graces, nor revelations, nor raptures, nor gifts granted to a soul make it perfect, but rather the intimate union of the soul with God. These gifts are merely ornaments of the soul, but constitute neither its essence nor its perfection. My sanctity and perfection consist in the close union of my will with the will of God" (Diary 1107).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY22H3XXd3I/AAAAAAAAAak/7ol7843XwTg/s1600-h/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300092582722238322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY22H3XXd3I/AAAAAAAAAak/7ol7843XwTg/s320/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY21ziGeO6I/AAAAAAAAAac/jfRljNOuANY/s1600-h/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I would like to visit the chapel near Krakow. Maybe it's just nostalgia given my polish family roots. Even so the Sanctuary of Divine Mercy at Lagiewniki seems like a beautiful place to visit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="DISPLAY: inline" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" href="http://therecord.blogs.com/.a/6a00d8341c465d53ef01053714fa9b970b-popup"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-2602524767426419872?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/2602524767426419872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=2602524767426419872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2602524767426419872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2602524767426419872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/10/saints-among-us.html' title='The saints among us....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SY22H3XXd3I/AAAAAAAAAak/7ol7843XwTg/s72-c/morning-fog-st+mary+church+krakow+poland+1988.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1716738921035126189</id><published>2008-10-02T08:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T08:53:49.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'>guardian angels...</title><content type='html'>"May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs come to welcome you and take you to the holy city, the new and eternal Jerusalem."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.therecord.com/news/obituaries/obituaries2020_5252962.html"&gt;http://www.therecord.com/news/obituaries/obituaries2020_5252962.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1716738921035126189?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1716738921035126189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1716738921035126189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1716738921035126189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1716738921035126189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/10/guardian-angels.html' title='guardian angels...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-2302062113986282127</id><published>2008-09-30T09:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T09:10:19.388-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shalom....this 'black September'.</title><content type='html'>It's been an exciting time in the markets this year.  All kinds of interesting rumours, and even more interesting polical commentary.  Even so, the days tick buy and fear takes over revealing what is underneath the capital structures that support our economies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Sept 29, Rosh Hashahah and the day to mark 'Black September'.   Has me thinking about what the year will bring, both to our finances, and our families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I'm not worried...but I am curious...and it will be an interesting winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shalom.&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; many blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-2302062113986282127?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/2302062113986282127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=2302062113986282127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2302062113986282127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2302062113986282127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/shalomthis-black-september.html' title='Shalom....this &apos;black September&apos;.'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6546020513720257455</id><published>2008-09-26T21:37:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T00:55:05.902-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Time...</title><content type='html'>Seasons always get me thinking of how quickly time keeps passing....but this phrase: "it's time" has been present with me a lot these days, for most of the year actually. And throughout the last 8 years, if my story was told in full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the interesting moments this week where those words are catching my attention:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;times for my flight to see friends this weekend&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;some friends saying 'it's time' to get married &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;my schedule for implementing a project that keeps slipping at work, the ever present...'tick tick tick' with getting everything done...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that it was time to replace my garage door (thankfully the door didn't hit me or my car)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that it's time to deal with certain family matters&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;and perhaps the most profound, from today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking with my mom about my uncle. He's quite ill (bone cancer). We're hoping he sees his birthday (Oct 2) and is well enough for visitors with those who know him well.  The funeral arrangements have been made....and even the death certificate is filled out. The only missing piece of information is the final date and the time...and of course the appropriate signatures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of that has me thinking and praying again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our time here is so fleeting. So, I pray you make the most of each day, and each moment, with each friend and loved one, including Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if lately, you haven't made time for your friends, or Jesus...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6546020513720257455?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6546020513720257455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6546020513720257455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6546020513720257455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6546020513720257455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-time.html' title='It&apos;s Time...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8885219465135825485</id><published>2008-09-25T09:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T09:21:36.851-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathing...</title><content type='html'>It's hard to think when you gasp for air.   Not if certain you know what that is like, but it isn't fun.  It's something I've struggled with for many years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to get quite worried when I would have trouble breathing, so sometimes the inability to think clearly is a blessing when I have those troubles now.    I don't worry.  I don't even try to really think.   At best, I just focus on what little air gets into my lungs and marvel at how the body turns oxygen into a life force....in and through our blood stream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many days, breathing  is a conscious effort for me.    Yesterday however, with the change in season it seems, I surprised myself because I realized I wasn't having to think about it.   Something had changed at one point during the day and I could just breathe....so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to take gifts for granted...but it is truly a blessing not to have to think about such a simple task.  It really frees up the mind (and body) to focus on other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for more of the same today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isa. 49.9-13&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8885219465135825485?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8885219465135825485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8885219465135825485' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8885219465135825485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8885219465135825485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/breathing.html' title='Breathing...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-4442201207856408143</id><published>2008-09-24T22:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T22:26:52.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer for today....ccc1091</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Holy Spirit, teacher of prayer,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you lead us to pray in thanksgiving &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;for the Father's countless blessings;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you help us to respond with our &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;own blessings of thanks and praise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Spirit of the promise, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you prepare us to meet Jesus in the liturgy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;awakening faith, peparing hearts to be fertile soil &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;where good seed can take root.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Spirit of truth, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you make God's word come alive for us, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;unfolding its meaning and significance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;so that it becomes an encounter with the living Word,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Jesus, in whom we see the Father.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Breath of life, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you breathe life into every liturgical celebration&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;so that it becomes what it represents, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and we are made participants, not spectators, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;in the saving mysteries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Spirit of Christ, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you gather God's scattered children together into &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;the one Body of Christ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;you live in us as a burning flame of love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;to help us offer our lives as a living sacrifice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and bear lasting fruit in your service&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-4442201207856408143?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/4442201207856408143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=4442201207856408143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4442201207856408143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4442201207856408143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/prayer-for-todayccc1091.html' title='Prayer for today....ccc1091'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-7407316889207053222</id><published>2008-09-21T21:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T22:01:25.812-04:00</updated><title type='text'>praying...over milk...</title><content type='html'>I spent some time at a small dairy farm over the weekend. It was amazing actually. I have always loved walking among the cows in the fields. Fun to see them also in the barns. Cows, are quite curious.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as wonderful as it was to take a break at the farm, it was hard not to think of the mom's and dad's and the little ones in China. Praying for those families... and the leaders making all the decisions as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/news/international/China_says_nearly_13_000_sick_in_milk_scandal.html?siteSect=143&amp;amp;sid=9751851&amp;amp;cKey=1222045670000&amp;amp;ty=ti"&gt;13,000 and counting...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For much wisdom, peace...tonight, and in the days to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-7407316889207053222?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/7407316889207053222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=7407316889207053222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7407316889207053222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7407316889207053222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/prayingover-milk.html' title='praying...over milk...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3926469955025943813</id><published>2008-09-15T21:51:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T22:56:23.084-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy new year...(in September)</title><content type='html'>September is my 'new year'. For a lot of reasons. But every year, for as long as I can remember, something happens when I smell ripening apples on the wind and see the cornstalks start to yellow.  My whole body quickens when I see the fullness in the fields and begin to anticipate the harvest.  It becomes the time for me to review the year that is passing, and plan for the next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, my eyes were filled with these things: the harvest moon, the chill in the air, a few stressed trees that already burning brightly (about a month or so before the others give up their green), summer flowers slowly fading, and harvest flowers that just beginning to bud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in the garden tonight was beautiful....and daunting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to tend my roses this summer, so they are very overgrown. The buds are still quite full on some of them. The butterfly bushes are almost finished but they are still full of bees, and butterflies....monarchs just finishing up their season. Hummingbirds have long since flown away. The ladybugs haven't quite begun their march....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a quiet hush that comes into my spirit when I step into my backyard. I can spend hours there. Just listening to the hum of creation in the tiny garden that is 'mine'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm no green thumb - that's my mom's role when she drops by once a week. She helps me manage what I can't seem to get done. All but the roses. And this year, they are too much for either of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September is time to start making plans for next year. What do we transplant? How do we prepare for the winter? What kind of flowers do we want for spring? and when is the best time to plant those bulbs? What's in the forecast? And what busyness is on the calendar? The good news is that plants are very forgiving when we don't quite get it right....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's in that rhythm of planting during the harvest that captures my spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patterns of sowing and reaping.&lt;br /&gt;Planting while harvesting.&lt;br /&gt;Planning the next season,&lt;br /&gt;while taking in the beauty of the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the sweet smell on the wind,&lt;br /&gt;is one of change...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all blend to make me ask this question, from a place that in my heart that is more real than I'm used to really saying... &lt;em&gt;yes Lord, what is your will&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, it's just then that my eyes turn upward and I see birds inverting their spring formations as they gather before nesting at dusk. Flying in circles for the time being, but many will soon be on their way to warmer places. Until then, their evening dances catch my attention...and I enjoy their company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, tonight, I'm thinking 'new year' thoughts. I'm not certain how well I've walked out this past year. But I'm thankful for the deep moments with friends, family...and especially with Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look forward, I'm again seeking change.&lt;br /&gt;There is just so much more to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much more to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO much for to give thanks.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm praying that as this next year arrives, I'll find new joy, and new hope.&lt;br /&gt;... and new dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=PS%20103&amp;amp;version=31;"&gt;Psalm 103&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3926469955025943813?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3926469955025943813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3926469955025943813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3926469955025943813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3926469955025943813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/happy-new-yearin-september.html' title='Happy new year...(in September)'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1897716495928862455</id><published>2008-09-10T22:14:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T00:06:40.101-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Far away places...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMyNwEgfplI/AAAAAAAAAOg/fgQYWxPPZGw/s1600-h/indo-+b25-+classroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245723522963056210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMyNwEgfplI/AAAAAAAAAOg/fgQYWxPPZGw/s320/indo-+b25-+classroom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These kids were such a joy to be with. It's been a couple of years since I've heard their laughter now. It's actually been a couple of years since I've been in any class room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to admit that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been waiting for a friend to arrive from Africa for a while now. It's still several weeks before she arrives and I will only get a very short time with her while she is here. But anticipating her visit has me thinking about some other travels and school rooms I've been blessed to see in full swing. She has been building a school for nearly 10 years, and it opened last year. It is my dream to go there and see the kids. Maybe even try my hand at the blackboard again...even if just for a season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMiluLjK5AI/AAAAAAAAANc/hf-0nHKfQ7Y/s1600-h/indo-+b25-classroom+-girls+-+2+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244623978865812482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMiluLjK5AI/AAAAAAAAANc/hf-0nHKfQ7Y/s320/indo-+b25-classroom+-girls+-+2+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Maybe next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, these are some of the kids who are on my heart... precious girls in Indonesia. Thanks to corporate sponsorship, this school is doing very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That model is something that has me thinking. How can we do get more corporations adopting and funding schools? It seems to work so well for those who are fortunate enough to attend one of these schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thinking, and hopefully praying more about this tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244632019646480546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMitCNyrAKI/AAAAAAAAANk/JaZKs0f6iF8/s320/a+-+indo-b28-girls+w+backpack+(3).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+18:16"&gt;Luke 18:16&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://http//www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Luk&amp;amp;chapter=18&amp;amp;version=NLT#16"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1897716495928862455?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1897716495928862455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1897716495928862455' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1897716495928862455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1897716495928862455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/far-away-places.html' title='Far away places...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SMyNwEgfplI/AAAAAAAAAOg/fgQYWxPPZGw/s72-c/indo-+b25-+classroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-4082299902275190834</id><published>2008-09-05T08:35:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T08:45:25.204-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta</title><content type='html'>September 5, 2008  (1910-1997)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother Teresa of Calcutta, the tiny woman recognized throughout the world for her work among the poorest of the poor, was beatified October 19, 2003. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her love knew no bounds. Nor did her energy, as she crisscrossed the globe pleading for support and inviting others to see the face of Jesus in the poorest of the poor. In 1979 she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. On September 5, 1997, God called her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has earned the right to be called blessed.  May we learn from her, her heart and also from the words she's left us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Mother Teresa composed this prayer for the United Nations International Year of the Family)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;"Heavenly Father, you have given us a model of life in the Holy Family of Nazareth. Help us, O loving Father to make our family another Nazareth where love, peace and joy reign. May it be deeply contemplative, intensely Eucharistic and vibrant with joy. Help us to stay together in joy and sorrow through family prayer. Teach us to see Jesus in the members of our family especially in their distressing disguise. May the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus make our hearts meek and humble like His and help us to carry out our family duties in a holy way. May we love one another as God loves each one of us more and more each day, and forgive each other's faults as You forgive our sins. Help us, O loving Father to take whatever You give and to give whatever You take with a big smile. Immaculate Heart of Mary, cause of our joy, pray for us. St. Joseph, pray for us. Holy Guardian Angels be always with us, guide and protect us. Amen." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-4082299902275190834?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/4082299902275190834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=4082299902275190834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4082299902275190834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/4082299902275190834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/blessed-mother-teresa-of-calcutta.html' title='Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-2818950864108125358</id><published>2008-09-02T09:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T09:21:11.781-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering...</title><content type='html'>Hard to imagine the distance of 18 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.therecord.com/news/obituaries/obituaries2030_5232407.html"&gt;http://www.therecord.com/news/obituaries/obituaries2030_5232407.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is so brief, and so frail. &lt;br /&gt;May we all choose to live more freely and fully...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-2818950864108125358?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/2818950864108125358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=2818950864108125358' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2818950864108125358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2818950864108125358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/09/remembering.html' title='Remembering...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-554514132181005317</id><published>2008-08-24T22:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T22:53:48.160-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='encouragement'/><title type='text'>We are his...</title><content type='html'>A friend sent these lyrics to me today. Her friend wrote them...(CD is just newly out: check out Karla Adolphe: Enter the Cirlce of Worship: Chair and Microphone  Vol3).  Even though I have yet to hear the song, her words encourage me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;maybe i don't have the strength&lt;br /&gt;maybe i don't have the faith&lt;br /&gt;you brought me here in forty years&lt;br /&gt;when i know this trip should take a week&lt;br /&gt;i've shed my tears and shed my blood&lt;br /&gt;been outran some by the flood&lt;br /&gt;and winter steals my songs away&lt;br /&gt;in all of this i've come undone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you walk through the water&lt;br /&gt;i will be with you&lt;br /&gt;when you pass through the river&lt;br /&gt;those waves they will not overtake you&lt;br /&gt;when you walk on the fire&lt;br /&gt;those flames they will not touch you&lt;br /&gt;you are mine&lt;br /&gt;you are mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been a child&lt;br /&gt;i've been a slave&lt;br /&gt;and i've grown bitter&lt;br /&gt;and learned to pray&lt;br /&gt;i've packed my bags and started back&lt;br /&gt;the cost is just too high to pay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you walk through the water&lt;br /&gt;i will be with you&lt;br /&gt;when you pass through the river&lt;br /&gt;those waves they will not overtake you&lt;br /&gt;when you walk on the fire&lt;br /&gt;those flames they will not touch you&lt;br /&gt;you are mine&lt;br /&gt;you are mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are mine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[We are His. &lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=063&amp;amp;version=nlt"&gt;Psalm 63&lt;/a&gt;. My soul thirsts for him. We are His. We belong to Him.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-554514132181005317?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/554514132181005317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=554514132181005317' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/554514132181005317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/554514132181005317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/we-are-his.html' title='We are his...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6239082668690137811</id><published>2008-08-19T23:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T23:56:22.832-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprises in little packages...</title><content type='html'>Today was a challenging day at work. A project hasn't been going well. Extra long hours, covering vacations.  Still trying to bring things back on track. Daily check points. All of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, at the end of this crazy day there were three little packages in the mail. Not the one I was looking for, but part of the story that seems to be unfolding. A gift from Israel, and a couple of other little fun things. Reminders of the bigger picture...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;"And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you? He requires you to fear him, to live according to his will, to love and worship him with all your heart and soul, and to obey the Lord's commands and laws that I am giving you today for your own good."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Dueteronomy 10:12-13&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6239082668690137811?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6239082668690137811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6239082668690137811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6239082668690137811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6239082668690137811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/surprises-in-little-packages.html' title='Surprises in little packages...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3831893768138022713</id><published>2008-08-17T20:03:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T23:55:59.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Seasons of change...</title><content type='html'>In many ways, wherever you attend church, there is always talk of the seasons changing. That God is doing something new and fresh. We pray for fresh wind or fresh fire to fall upon us. We pray to be included in whatever that new thing is going to be. We get excited and are drawn into the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I've heard myself saying some of those words as well. Several of my friends are dreaming prophetic dreams and hearing from the Lord in new ways. That is there testimony. Their dreams are quite profound, intensely detailed and courageously described, so I believe they are more than just the psychologial working out of my friends' unresolved emotions. But I'm finding myself looking for the interpretation as well.  Not just of the details of my friends' dreams, but why there seems to be an increase in this activity? Why are there so few who can interpret these dreams? Why we are left with the excitement and curiosity that there must be some deeper meaning? (Where is Joseph or Daniel these days?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prehaps my friends have just reached an age in their lives (or spiritual journeys) where we want something new, something different than the routines we've created for ourselves. Perhaps the dreams stem from that...but there is a lot of buzz these days, or there seems to be about certain angels and other spiritual conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book called &lt;em&gt;The Shack&lt;/em&gt; has many people talking about conversations with Jesus, Father God, and Holy Spirit. I'm glad for that dialogue. I'm glad for the dialogue about dreams, and visions...and seasons of change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm mindful that the seasons have always changed. Every few months they change, as the earth spins around the sun. Has every generation seen these winds of change? Do some pick up on them and others don't? What sparked the changes in our worship led by Charles Wesley, or Martin Luther (or whomever you would choose to name)? And were their views bringing new vitality to the church, or division?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just really learning some basic church history. Individually Charles and Martin (and many others) are thoroughly impressive. And as much as some of their teachings echo the 'seasons of change' that seem to be upon us again, I'm caught between wanting something new myself, and seeing the benefits of the simple life...and a simple routine....where the change is in my understanding rather than the world around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The particular quote that follow has haunted me for a little over two years now. It was shouted out by a random fellow in Toronto's business district...over and over again, until it struck a cord deeply in my spirit (and perhaps several of those standing with me): "&lt;em&gt;What day is this&lt;/em&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What day is this?" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, that fellow was forceably removed. But I'm thankful to have stood in that moment, listening to his cry, because his words helped me through so many of the dark days since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that day, I've stopped looking for the seasons of change and started appreciating the beauty of God in the little moments in each day. Fresh Mana. New every morning. Especially... as... the seasons change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is the Lord the Lord has made;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;let us rejoice and be glad in it.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=118&amp;amp;translation=niv#top"&gt;(Psalm 118:24&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3831893768138022713?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3831893768138022713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3831893768138022713' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3831893768138022713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3831893768138022713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/seasons-of-change.html' title='Seasons of change...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1176670003139301401</id><published>2008-08-13T20:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T20:37:03.312-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Only a person who risks is free....</title><content type='html'>(read this today...it has me thinking....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To laugh is to risk being a fool. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To reach out to another is to risk involvement. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To express feelings is to risk exposing your true self. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To place your idea's and your dreams before &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;the crowd &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;is to risk their loss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To love is to risk not being loved in return. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To live is to risk dying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To hope is to risk despair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;To try is to risk failure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they simply cannot learn, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;feel, change, grow, love or live. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Only a person who risks is free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1176670003139301401?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1176670003139301401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1176670003139301401' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1176670003139301401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1176670003139301401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/only-person-who-risks-is-free.html' title='Only a person who risks is free....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-7085632957169694281</id><published>2008-08-11T20:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T22:59:34.078-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Reading List....</title><content type='html'>(In no particular order:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Tipping Point - Malcom Gladwell&lt;br /&gt;- The Challenge of Jesus - N.T. Wright&lt;br /&gt;- Evil and Justice of God - N.T. Wright&lt;br /&gt;- The Attentive Life - Leighton Ford&lt;br /&gt;- New Birth or Re-birth - Ravi Zacharias&lt;br /&gt;- Girl Meets God - Lauren F. Winner&lt;br /&gt;- Well-Intentioned Dragons - Marshall Shelley&lt;br /&gt;- In the Vineyard of the Lord - Marco Bardazzi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started several others. Not certain which ones will get finished.&lt;br /&gt;Not worried about it. I read what I can absorb...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few more on the list. Mostly books loaned or given to me by friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems that I'm slower at turning the pages these days...&lt;br /&gt;but that's okay. I have some of these on CD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[..and don't worry. The scriptures come first.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy reading all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-7085632957169694281?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/7085632957169694281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=7085632957169694281' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7085632957169694281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7085632957169694281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/summer-reading-list.html' title='Summer Reading List....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8964622255622837734</id><published>2008-08-10T18:47:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T18:38:46.487-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus...</title><content type='html'>How is it that we miss you in the simplest of moments?&lt;br /&gt;How is it that we long for you, and yet cannot touch you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are the creator of all that is good&lt;br /&gt;You are the light and hope of our dreams&lt;br /&gt;You know us&lt;br /&gt;and yet&lt;br /&gt;you choose&lt;br /&gt;to meet&lt;br /&gt;us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because you love us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord, we are not worthy to receive you.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, i am not worthy to receive you...&lt;br /&gt;but only say the word and i will be healed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I heard the confession of a man who is free of a 20+ year struggle with a particular addiction. It wrecked his life, though he deeply loved Jesus throughout his journey. He taught me much about mercy. In his talk, he spoke of this psalm....and that psalm quietly touches my heart tonight...and I'm thinking that even thought i repent of sin, I am clean. Such a strange contrast. Joy in Christ, knowing full well, that judgement is warranted...and yet, there is grace....sufficient, even for me...bless you tonight... or whenever you read this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray you know the deep love of Jesus Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=51&amp;amp;version=NLT#top"&gt;Psalm 51&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8964622255622837734?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8964622255622837734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8964622255622837734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8964622255622837734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8964622255622837734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/jesus.html' title='Jesus...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1005552804884607060</id><published>2008-08-08T20:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T21:38:40.112-04:00</updated><title type='text'>simple things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJzlRjAf6xI/AAAAAAAAAMU/XwaKOcC7Sf0/s1600-h/banner+-+for+blog+post+-+flowers+where+the+bee+was.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232308956715543314" style="WIDTH: 485px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" height="203" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJzlRjAf6xI/AAAAAAAAAMU/XwaKOcC7Sf0/s400/banner+-+for+blog+post+-+flowers+where+the+bee+was.jpg" width="595" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJzlCDcNPkI/AAAAAAAAAMM/VAxIv_yCoAU/s1600-h/banner+-+for+blog+post+-+flowers+where+the+bee+was.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm very tired. Work has been challenging lately. A key&lt;br /&gt;project has not gone well, and has to be re-planned again. Success&lt;br /&gt;is a must, but the deadlines are difficult. And we're all quite tired.&lt;br /&gt;Glad for a break this weekend. It's much needed and long overdue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plans are simple - laundry, cleaning, and time in my garden.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe read one of the books on my summer reading list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tisha_B%27Av"&gt;Tisha B'Av&lt;/a&gt;, and while I like to follow holy days on&lt;br /&gt;the calendar, I won't follow the ritual fast or other observances.&lt;br /&gt;I will remember with my jewish friends, the destruction of the&lt;br /&gt;holy temple, but I will also think of the resurrection of Christ.&lt;br /&gt;I will think about the return of the 12 scouts from Canaan, and &lt;br /&gt;celebrate with milk, honey, and almonds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the world watches events in China, and families wander about their&lt;br /&gt;regular days, I will be quiet, and very much enjoy simple things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;The altars you make for me must be simple altars of earth.&lt;br /&gt;Offer on such altars your sacrifices to me-your burnt offerings&lt;br /&gt;and peace offerings, your sheep and goats and your cattle.&lt;br /&gt;Build altars in the places where I remind you who I am, and&lt;br /&gt;I will come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt; and bless you there ... (Ex.20:24)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1005552804884607060?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1005552804884607060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1005552804884607060' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1005552804884607060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1005552804884607060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/simple-things.html' title='simple things...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJzlRjAf6xI/AAAAAAAAAMU/XwaKOcC7Sf0/s72-c/banner+-+for+blog+post+-+flowers+where+the+bee+was.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5070174798824448153</id><published>2008-08-07T21:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T01:17:41.299-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight I am praying...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJvHr6AouFI/AAAAAAAAALs/1LtZSA-2OZs/s1600-h/rocks+from+malta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231994949241190482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 352px" height="295" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJvHr6AouFI/AAAAAAAAALs/1LtZSA-2OZs/s320/rocks+from+malta.jpg" width="236" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- for friends who seem far away&lt;br /&gt;- for new life, so pink and cute&lt;br /&gt;- for someone celebrating a birthday&lt;br /&gt;- for a dear friend going through a divorce&lt;br /&gt;- for my parents who worry a bit too much&lt;br /&gt;- for my cousin who lives in the north&lt;br /&gt;- for friends in kigali, aceh, malta, macau&lt;br /&gt;- for friends downtown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, You know the words that will come from my lips before I speak them. They seem so feeble to me sometimes, and yet there is little else I can do when my heart overflows with sentiment for those you have placed in my heart...those near and far...I pray they are your words...For those precious people you've invited me to know. And I pray to know You more...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5070174798824448153?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5070174798824448153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5070174798824448153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5070174798824448153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5070174798824448153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/tonight-i-am-praying.html' title='Tonight I am praying...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJvHr6AouFI/AAAAAAAAALs/1LtZSA-2OZs/s72-c/rocks+from+malta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1012016250461721956</id><published>2008-08-04T22:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T22:31:34.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Praying the Catechism, still...</title><content type='html'>It's been a busy weekend. Two special visits with dear friends. Sisters in Christ. One was quite long, the other quite short, but both moments really blessed me. Much needed refreshing and rekindling. It was great to simply see them, share hugs, and a few tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I spent much of the rest of the weekend recouperating. I also had to go back into work to deal with a project that isn't going well at the moment. Coming home tonight, getting ready to sleep, I was struck again by this simple prayer book. One of the prayers, jumps off from a short passage of scripture that has been running over and over in my head. (Perhaps this one will eventually land so deep in my spirit, that I really rest in it for a while...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Apart from me, you can do nothing..." (Jn 15:5) [CCC2732]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this little prayer book, the response to this passage is a quote from St. Bernard of Clairvaux:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Draw me after you:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The bride has great need to be drawn onward, and drawn by no other than he who says, "Without me you can do nothing" (Jn15:5)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knows that your ways are blessed and that anyone who follows you does not walk in darkness. But if she prays to be drawn onward, it is because she cannot attain to your righteousness on her own strength. She prays... because no one comes to you unless the father draws him (Jn 6:44)....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We often feel like we can accomplish a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our own strength, we can and do get a lot of things done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, unless we are with Jesus... with Him... Him in us, nothing we do is good. Nothing will survive the burning away of the chaff. All we do on our own is wood, hay, and stubble. Perhaps glorious in our own eyes, but ultimately, it's just lifeless dust cast out of the kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just taking too long to learn this particular lesson, but I am struck by those few words...still. Tonight I want to be drawn onward toward Him, who is everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, I don't want to do anything without you.&lt;br /&gt;Without you, I am nothing...&lt;br /&gt;With you, I have everything, because of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=139&amp;amp;version=NLT#top"&gt;Psalm 139&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1012016250461721956?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1012016250461721956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1012016250461721956' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1012016250461721956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1012016250461721956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/praying-catechism-still.html' title='Praying the Catechism, still...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3375770939129987267</id><published>2008-08-01T21:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T22:10:15.367-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look up!  (Psalm 121)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJO4yRQzzxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/ZQneINjOvtg/s1600-h/8fd1874546149f522de2ff0b50a8%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229726766074154770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJO4yRQzzxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/ZQneINjOvtg/s320/8fd1874546149f522de2ff0b50a8%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This picture is from this mornings solar eclipse, over St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, Russia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen lots of these photos today, from those who were gazing at the sun through special lenses and to beautiful photos of total eclipse. But this partial one is the one that catches my attention. The sun growing dark and the shadows creating this evening-like scene, in a city that captures my imagination....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always curious about who's attention gets drawn to the skies, and what those beautiful pictures mean for them...do they just stare in amazement at the beauty of the heavens? Do they imagine what it's like for science to let us imagine worlds beyond? Do they worship the sun and moon as gods? Or do they know the Jesus, and the Shalom of God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's eclipse started in our Arctic north, and then passed over Greenland, western Siberia, Mongolia and China. The first Russians to witness the eclipse were on the Arctic island of Spitzbergen north of Norway. It's a path to China that I'd rarely consider, even though I once flew from Heathrow to Singapore. And yet today, I find that path comforting. I've imagined today the view from the Heavens towards earth as the globe spins, and so many eyes looking upwards....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I prayed, for those whose faces stopped to see the uniqueness of this day...and for those who didn't (because of the clouds, or because of disinterest, or more pressing matters that may have consumed them).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered about how Jesus sees and knows each one...&lt;br /&gt;   - those turned towards him.&lt;br /&gt;   - those who are shielding their eyes with filters&lt;br /&gt;   - those who risk seeing, maybe becoming blind physically in the process.&lt;br /&gt;   - those who are busy with other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like days like today. They make me think about those who walk this earth with me. And as I trim my hedges, and fix my car, and call some friends... I can remember that there's an entirely different perspective. That we're sharing this rock, in all of it's glorious beauty with so many people. Many tribes, many nations, many tongues. (&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Isa&amp;amp;chapter=45&amp;amp;version=NLT#23"&gt;Isa.45:23&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think about that, I'm so thankful...(&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Isa&amp;amp;chapter=45&amp;amp;version=NLT#18"&gt;Isa.45:18&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJPBJAwEnxI/AAAAAAAAALA/AXUIYUsXhXM/s1600-h/2eafcc0a47c68b2c7c2e1f17b2b6%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229735952871890706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJPBJAwEnxI/AAAAAAAAALA/AXUIYUsXhXM/s320/2eafcc0a47c68b2c7c2e1f17b2b6%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3375770939129987267?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3375770939129987267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3375770939129987267' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3375770939129987267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3375770939129987267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/08/look-up-psalm-121.html' title='Look up!  (Psalm 121)'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SJO4yRQzzxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/ZQneINjOvtg/s72-c/8fd1874546149f522de2ff0b50a8%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5724964765211828616</id><published>2008-07-31T09:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T09:10:23.464-04:00</updated><title type='text'>St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556)</title><content type='html'>Inspired today by this saint...(and have fond memories of being in Montserrat...think it's time to dig out those spiritual exercises again):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;The founder of the Jesuits was on his way to military fame and fortune when a cannon ball shattered his leg. Because there were no books of romance on hand during his convalescence, he whiled away the time reading a life of Christ and lives of the saints. His conscience was deeply touched, and a long, painful turning to Christ began. Having seen the Mother of God in a vision, he made a pilgrimage to her shrine at Montserrat (near Barcelona).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He remained for almost a year at nearby Manresa, sometimes with the Dominicans, sometimes in a pauper's hospice, often in a cave in the hills praying. After a period of great peace of mind, he went through a harrowing trial of scruples. There was no comfort in anything: prayer, fasting, sacraments, penance. At length, his peace of mind returned. It was during this year of conversion that he began to write down material that later became his greatest work, the Spiritual Exercises.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He finally achieved his purpose of going to the Holy Land, but could not remain, as he planned, because of the hostility of the Turks. He spent the next 11 years in various European universities, studying with great difficulty, beginning almost as a&lt;br /&gt;child. Like many others, he fell victim twice to the suspicions of the time, and&lt;br /&gt;was twice jailed for brief periods. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1534, at the age of 43, he and six others (one of whom was St. Francis Xavier) vowed to live in poverty and chastity and to go to the Holy Land. If this became impossible, they vowed to offer themselves to the apostolic service of the pope. The latter became the only choice. Four years later Ignatius made the association permanent. The new Society of Jesus was approved by Paul III, and Ignatius was elected to serve as the first general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When companions were sent on various missions by the pope, Ignatius remained in Rome, consolidating the new venture, but still finding time to found homes for orphans, catechumens and penitents. He founded the Roman College, intended to be the model of all other colleges of the Society. Ignatius was a true mystic. He centered his spiritual life on the essential foundations of Christianity: the Trinity, Christ, the Eucharist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5724964765211828616?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5724964765211828616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5724964765211828616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5724964765211828616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5724964765211828616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/st-ignatius-of-loyola-1491-1556.html' title='St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556)'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-2573285572029487565</id><published>2008-07-30T21:06:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T22:00:33.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for praying....</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Romans 3:21-22&lt;br /&gt;Jeremiah 33:6-9&lt;br /&gt;Hebrews: 9:28&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always amazed at how many times I can read a passage of scripture and new things come to life for me. I'm amazed that my heart can soften even further to the Word as it seems to leap from the pages of my bible (NLT is the preferred version for me, but I have several I regularly meander through to confirm my understanding).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From time to time, I receive scripture references from friends. From those who love Jesus and feel prompted to send a word or two after they have been praying or thinking of me. There are few things make my day brighter. Partly because of the surprise they bring... and partly because it reminds how easily He can send a clear word, even when I'm not particularly listening...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It shouldn't surprise me really. I've been waken out of bed, or simply stopped in the middle of my busy work day, with a clear impression to pray for someone. Often it's for someone I know...but sometimes its for someone I've never met, and for those in countries and situations that seem so far away. I used to brush those moments aside, wondering about whether it was my imagination....or just a faint recollection from something I'd been reading. But it's more than imagination. More than sentimental notions stemming from fatigue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've read several books and notes trying to answer 'why pray?'  Some are from the perspective of "what's in it for me?", some from the perspective of theologians directly trying to answer the theorectial questions in a systematic manner. Popular books on the topic and old texts as well. While I'm willing to learn from all of those views, my heart simply enjoys those moments of simple fellowship when honest words are shared as an offering to Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, from one of my favourite books:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Christ, the Son of God made man, is the Father's one perfect, and unsurpassable Word. In him he has said everything..... (CCC65)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Jesus, you are the eternal Word of God who comes to meet me in the Scriptures. Jesus, you are the Word made flesh, the bread of life, who nourishes me in the Eucharist. In you, Lord, I have everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the Word to be spoken.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the truth to be told.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the was to be walked.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the light to be lit.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the life to be lived.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the love to be loved...&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is my life.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is my only love.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is my all in all.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is my everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(from a prayer by Mother Teresa) &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-2573285572029487565?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/2573285572029487565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=2573285572029487565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2573285572029487565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2573285572029487565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/thanks-for-praying.html' title='Thanks for praying....'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-5264278253914421011</id><published>2008-07-23T09:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T09:18:48.758-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A quote from St. Lawrence of Brindisi</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I've been away for a few days, visiting with some friends and being in the mountains of Alberta.  I'll post again soon.  In the meantime, here's something that I've been thinking about:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;God is love, and all his operations proceed from love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Once he wills to manifest that goodness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt; by sharing his love outside himself, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;then the Incarnation becomes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;the supreme manifestation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;of his goodness and love and glory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;So, Christ was intended &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;before all other creatures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and for his own sake. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;For him all things were created &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and to him all things must be subject, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and God loves all creatures in and because of Christ. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Christ is the first-born of every creature, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and the whole of humanity as well as the created world &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;finds its foundation and meaning in him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Moreover, this would have been the case &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;even if Adam had not sinned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Lawrence of Brindisi, Doctor of the Universal Church&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-5264278253914421011?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/5264278253914421011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=5264278253914421011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5264278253914421011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/5264278253914421011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/quote-from-st-lawrence-of-brindisi.html' title='A quote from St. Lawrence of Brindisi'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-433345853986711859</id><published>2008-07-14T21:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T22:10:51.698-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHwELeKodcI/AAAAAAAAAKY/V9FbNuGR-jE/s1600-h/dad+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223054262965663170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHwELeKodcI/AAAAAAAAAKY/V9FbNuGR-jE/s320/dad+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm kind of glad that I don't really have a theme yet for this blog. It leaves me completely open to share the moments from any given day. Today was full of all kinds of busyness....but for a brief few moments I called my dad. He turns 74 today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have sung Happy B-day...we too quickly got into some business (some things just don't change I guess).  He was glad just to hear my voice...and that I remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, we just had his party yesterday (for my sister-in-law too). Doesn't matter how old we get, we still get together and exchange gifts.  This time it had a different feeling for me. Rather than the formal dinners we sometimes do, it was bbq burgers (the gas even ran out and we finished them on the stove). Salads and corn on the cob. Neices and nephews running around, plates turned over when the wind gushed unexpectedly.  Chaos, but fun to hear the 'whoa' in unison as Sarah's plate tumbled off of the deck. Then raspberry picking - the first of the season. Banana cake and icecream for desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fun afternoon.  A great day with family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how much home can feel like home, so many years later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-433345853986711859?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/433345853986711859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=433345853986711859' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/433345853986711859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/433345853986711859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-birthday-dad.html' title='Happy Birthday Dad'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHwELeKodcI/AAAAAAAAAKY/V9FbNuGR-jE/s72-c/dad+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-2158903627421402304</id><published>2008-07-13T20:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T21:52:51.631-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Terracotta Warriors</title><content type='html'>A friend spoke out this image today during a time of prayer. He was reluctant to share it, but as soon as he started speaking, something stirred in my heart. He had been praying, as others were praying for a variety of nations. We hadn't mentioned China... so this seemed to come up out of the blue. But the more he tried to set it aside, the clearer the impression became for him. He's a shy man, but he felt he just had to speak. And so he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said only a few words. He looked for recognition in someones eyes..."do you know what I mean, those clay soldiers?" A few heads nodded. And then he simply said that he believed it was time for the church to rise up from the dust.  He nodded himself, apparently pleased with that being enough said and sat down again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But his words echoed for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A buried army, made with toxins...at the hands of men. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terracotta_Army"&gt;Qin's Armies&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Funerary art " ...an immobilized but perfected army...returning to dust.&lt;br /&gt;A very curious world heritage that has me thinking....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've meandered through this day, my thoughts drift to all the things in my own life that are like those clay statues.  The wood, hay, and stubble that will eventually be burned away.... all those things that are done of myself.  Even the words we speak without waiting for the Lord. Those monumental arts commemorating death.    My hope is to be more like Joshua.  Waiting at the tent of meeting, for the Lord.  Not stirring, not saying anything, until He moves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prayer today is simply to rise up.&lt;br /&gt;To honour the Holy Spirit that is in me.&lt;br /&gt;Be fully alive in Christ. &lt;br /&gt;And to wait upon the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I pray that for you also.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?translation=nlt&amp;amp;book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=24#top"&gt;Psalm 24&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-2158903627421402304?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/2158903627421402304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=2158903627421402304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2158903627421402304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/2158903627421402304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/terracotta-warriors.html' title='Terracotta Warriors'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6042697896693261653</id><published>2008-07-10T08:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T08:44:58.605-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This Town</title><content type='html'>I've been a bit buried by work again.  Lots of projects, deadlines galore...and somehow I'm in the middle of a lot of them.   Treading water and dealing with the most urgent of the day's crises.   When it gets like that, I don't have much time to read the paper, or listen to the news.   But this week was a bit different.   And I was struck again by a number of articles, and I'm again praying for those I've met downtown.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a season, I walked and prayed through the streets of our city core.  I used to be there a lot.  Just walking, praying... even serving meals and worshipping in one of the churches whose goal was just to be a bright spot for those who were rejected in so many ways.  The people I met along the way touched my heart.  Their stories were often dramatic and sometimes they were just stories.  Mostly they were appreciative of someone who would listen, even just for a moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The news this week has brought me back to those days, and back to my knees again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week I've been praying for:&lt;br /&gt;a) The family and friends of a girl who was found in a motel room.  (Good bye Nikki).&lt;br /&gt;b) A 52 year old drummer who was beaten and left on the street.  The bus driver, turned good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Samaritan&lt;/span&gt; who helped him.  The two teens who kicked and pounded him with a weight.  The two teens who fled the scene. &lt;br /&gt;c) Wellington street residents who have witnessed so much this year.&lt;br /&gt;d) The officers who diligently work for our protection and witness so much in the process.&lt;br /&gt;e) Paramedics who calmly work in difficult moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are others too.&lt;br /&gt;But those are the ones that are on my heart at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to stop downtown later today.   Pray again at the clock tower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this town.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6042697896693261653?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6042697896693261653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6042697896693261653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6042697896693261653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6042697896693261653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-town.html' title='This Town'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6285343703688531647</id><published>2008-07-05T22:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:38:55.619-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts from Israel...and thoughts of many nations.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SG2lfv4ZKNI/AAAAAAAAAJY/chRdMKWoU6c/s1600-h/bells.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219009508039796946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SG2lfv4ZKNI/AAAAAAAAAJY/chRdMKWoU6c/s320/bells.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last week I connected with a friend who had recently been in Israel. We haven't had much chance to connect, but when we do it is always so rich. She is a dear sister to me, and we just bubble over each time we meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time we actually had time to sit and talk...for several hours. We shared stories and laughed, and I cried. The waitress we had was amazing. It made me think of other servers who have encountered such visits and their perfect timing with more water...a desert menu...or a cup of tea. We were in my home town this time, at "Jane Bond"...and as the dinner crowd shifted into the student night life we told stories of what Jesus was doing in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both had lots to share. Somehow I am still amazed that He is so alive and active in all of our lives, so uniquely with each of us. Sometimes I wonder if that is how it is for everyone knows Him....and I pray that it is. At least it seems that way with each person I've had the chance to visit this year...there seems something so fresh and wonderful. Stories of personal growth and pilgrimage fill the pages of our conversations. I'm usually blessed by the firey new life in their eyes...and I hope my friends see the same in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this particular night, this friend asked me to follow her to her car, just for a minute. Surprise! She produced a little plastic bag and a bottle of wine. Wonderful gifts unceremoniously wrapped... but that made me smile all the more...inside were lovingly hand-selected items...presented with the biggest of smiles...and so much love. She asked me to wait until I got home before peaking inside...which I did. And I'm glad I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside were several little treasures... including a coffee mug (about all I'll share). But I remember standing in my kitchen as I opened the gifts. I stopped for a long time...just holding my breath. Until I heard the Lord say..."&lt;em&gt;breathe&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;It's time to breathe&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were other whispers in those gifts that went straight to my heart as well. Eventually, I heard myself say... "I remember"....and, "Je me souviens". I was surprised to hear both languages (it's been so long since I've spoken French). But in that moment I remembered the many places I've shared coffee with friends on the journey... and the places and people I have yet to see. This friend may not know it, but her gifts to me have helped me hold onto the promises Jesus has whispered to my heart over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those whispers have been coming in different ways almost every day this past week. When a gift arrived in the mail (a special coin from Israel)... I gave in...and I gave thanks again. Humbled by my doubt when faced with His faithfulness. Surprised at how easily I get wrapped up with distractions, and how consistent the reminders to press in... just to stay on the path, in spite of everything which seems contrary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe Jesus will take me to some new places. Clearly Israel has been on my heart again. But there are other places I'd like to go as well. In time, as the Lord wills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with fond memories of walking on far away shores, and my own precious lands...and dreaming of new places to journey, I'm again celebrating the nations. It's so fun to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially this year as we in Canada remember the founding of Quebec City...the birth place of this young but beautiful nation. I enjoyed hearing the bells chiming together last week. All across the provinces and territories, celebrating when foreigners came to these shores. I love hearing bells...they always reminds me of Christmas morning, no matter what season it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, I'll leave you with this song...I hope you celebrate &lt;a href="http://www.radio-canada.ca/audio-video/pop.shtml#urlMedia%3Dhttp://www.radio-canada.ca/Medianet/2007/CBV/SpecialQuebec200708270000_m.asx&amp;amp;promo%3DZAPmedia_Telejournal&amp;amp;duree%3Dcourt"&gt;Quebec&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; Canada this week too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6285343703688531647?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6285343703688531647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6285343703688531647' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6285343703688531647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6285343703688531647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/gifts-from-israeland-thoughts-of-many.html' title='Gifts from Israel...and thoughts of many nations.'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SG2lfv4ZKNI/AAAAAAAAAJY/chRdMKWoU6c/s72-c/bells.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3587510107429511320</id><published>2008-07-01T21:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T23:43:29.362-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGrhdb_WaqI/AAAAAAAAAJI/tKrVufnbxIM/s1600-h/blog+pic+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218231014108064418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGrhdb_WaqI/AAAAAAAAAJI/tKrVufnbxIM/s320/blog+pic+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm listening to a broadcast and a number of Canadians mumble their way through the national anthem (mumbling in two languages). But it makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember celebrating at a local grade school in my home town. I remember being a parade marshall in my university days. I remember sitting with friends other years. But one year still stands out from the others - that year was the first time I celebrated on parliament hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a co-op student in Ottawa. I was supposed to be working for an oil company in Alberta that summer. But my friend took that job and I went off in another direction. As I sit here tonight, I remember walking through the streets, the massive crowds....and remember one very bold dance troup who split crowds in the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the most unusual sight amid the balloons and hot dog carts. There was this group, much skilled in mime, but in much more dramatic costume. They portrayed, silently, the passion of Christ. Jesus Christ crucified on the cross. A profound juxtaposition with the festivities of the day. I don't know if the others who watched were affected by their silent but bold proclamation of Jesus, and of God the Father as he looked on his son during the crucifixion. I was deeply moved by the drama before me. Whispers were loudly echoing in my heart the whole time. Twenty years later, it still moves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch the crowd this year, I wonder if anyone was out touching the hearts of others in a similar way. I know of one friend whose purpose today was simply to share the good news, as a friend.... He does this every day, but today was special for him... I look forward to hearing his stories. "Just seeds," he says. But good seeds. And sometimes, in the hardest of hearts, they take root.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I am thankful for those who reached out to me so long ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3587510107429511320?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3587510107429511320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3587510107429511320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3587510107429511320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3587510107429511320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-canada.html' title='Oh Canada'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGrhdb_WaqI/AAAAAAAAAJI/tKrVufnbxIM/s72-c/blog+pic+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-761490940702904790</id><published>2008-06-28T20:15:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T21:29:48.320-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for the birds...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGbUhKZ6KXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/MxaCkk7GMRs/s1600-h/blog+pic+3+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217090884549093746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGbUhKZ6KXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/MxaCkk7GMRs/s320/blog+pic+3+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of my favourite scenes from the week was watching four lanes of traffic get stopped during rush hour to let some geese cross the road. I too had to stop. As I waited, I watched the drakes keeping watch over the young ones. And I looked at the faces of those in the cars who were waiting for the 50 or so birds waddle on at their own unhurried pace. It amused me to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, there was joy on those faces. The farther away the cars stretched, the drivers grew more anxious - some strained to see what was going on. Others just waited patiently for the traffic to clear. I prayed for each person as my eyes fell on them, and then for those in the cars more off in the distance. "Bless them Lord.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a minute to recognize that mine was one of those smiling faces. I was late for work in a very busy week. Pressed. Again. But so taken by the moment that I forgot the next thing, and just enjoyed being. My heart welled up with thanks as I was reminded by Jesus, not to forget Him as I started off into my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy to get caught up in things. I do it often. But far better to be caught up in moments of just being present, with Jesus.  In a minute, I'm going out to catch the sunset in one of my favourite places. Enjoy the few moments left of the sunshine today. Feel the warmth on my skin. Breathe in an unhurried pace....and give thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-761490940702904790?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/761490940702904790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=761490940702904790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/761490940702904790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/761490940702904790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/thanks-for-birds.html' title='Thanks for the birds...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGbUhKZ6KXI/AAAAAAAAAIk/MxaCkk7GMRs/s72-c/blog+pic+3+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-9175990130306268603</id><published>2008-06-26T22:15:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T20:15:23.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Favourite places...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGSNGI1FR9I/AAAAAAAAAIc/v3iFUGJ2IyE/s1600-h/me+%26+mbahti+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216449404990736338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGSNGI1FR9I/AAAAAAAAAIc/v3iFUGJ2IyE/s320/me+%26+mbahti+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is me... with Mb'hati... in Kigali, Rwanda. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if I'd recognize her today. It's been two long years since I've had my feet on that red soil. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was very ill the day we visited this Women's Association. We had some supplies and we prayed with her. I remember that moment especially. It's emblazoned in me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beautiful girl, being raised in a country that has seen more pain, more bloodshed than I can comprehend. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In this particular moment I was glad to be holding a little one, someone too young to remember the pain of those days in 1994, or even currently with the poverty that continues. She as yet didn't know much about the wars, or her history. She was just playing with my glasses and happy to 'talk' with a visitor. Expressing love freely...even through her feeble body. She, her mother, and her friends captured my heart. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The moms here also captured my heart. There is something that changes in the eyes of a person who experiences deep pain or loss. I saw that in the eyes of so many... those who survived, those who came back after....those who are still in far away countries as the relay their stories about loved ones who died too soon. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, especially in this place, there are some precious saints that know deep sadness but who also carry with them the fragrance of the Holy Spirit. I feel so blessed each time I meet someone like that. Even when common language seems so hard to find, their eyes tell the story of the loving and Holy God who indwells them. Just as with deep sorrow, there is equally something unique in the eyes of those who have an intimate relationship with Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't always see that in the eyes of those I meet. But I look for it. When I noticed it, I rejoice. When I don't, I pray that Jesus will change my own eyes, so that I may recognize Him even better... (Mat. 25:40).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-9175990130306268603?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/9175990130306268603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=9175990130306268603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/9175990130306268603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/9175990130306268603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/favourite-places.html' title='Favourite places...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGSNGI1FR9I/AAAAAAAAAIc/v3iFUGJ2IyE/s72-c/me+%26+mbahti+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-3039995877699874872</id><published>2008-06-25T22:09:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T23:17:37.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mists on the River</title><content type='html'>There are a few spots near my home were I feel most at peace. When I'm longing to hear from the Lord, I often go for a drive to one of these places. Before long, I find myself sitting by a river. Sometimes I skim stones. Sometimes I just get quiet and listen to the birds and insects, and the sound of the river. And when I'm settled, I pull out a bible and pray. This picture was taken near one of those spots, on a very grey day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGL_K7duyyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/-5rzVPSjaGU/s1600-h/blog-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216011881674623778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGL_K7duyyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/-5rzVPSjaGU/s320/blog-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Spring storms have stirred up a lot this year. But I still enjoy watching the rains, the lightning, and the mists on the river. In those precious wild gardens, I often feel like I've wandered into a secret place. And within minutes, the crush of the busy work day melts away. Soon, without much prodding....I find myself speaking words of praise to Jesus. I begin to thank him for giving me eyes to see this splendor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even with grey days, where the vibrant colours of summer are swallowed up in the mist, I am amazed at what we can take in when we stop for just a moment and ask, "Lord, what is here that you want me to see? Who was here or will be here? What do you want to say? Is there something you want to teach me? " Amazingly, Jesus responds. (He says he will, but it still amazes me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's just a simple response. And yes, sometimes there is silence. But even then, I have learned just to enjoy the walk and see creation. These days, when I stop to examine even simple blades of grass, with their weak seeds and shallow roots, I am humbled that they know how to worship without effort. Simply being what they were created to be...blooming where they are planted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not someone who worships creation. I worship the Creator, the Holy God of Israel. Not because His works are beautiful, but because of the incredible love that brought all of this into being. And that He gave me personally, eyes to see all of this... and to see Him in all of this as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Psa&amp;amp;chapter=97&amp;amp;version=NLT#top"&gt;Psalm 97 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that you, precious reader, will find places to get still. Where you can look around you, even on grey, or crushing days, and find peace. May Jesus speak to your heart, whisper through creation, and bring you joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-3039995877699874872?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/3039995877699874872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=3039995877699874872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3039995877699874872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/3039995877699874872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/mists-on-river.html' title='Mists on the River'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGL_K7duyyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/-5rzVPSjaGU/s72-c/blog-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-6832097641350686514</id><published>2008-06-24T23:27:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T00:01:23.087-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning to pray</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGG8Hz9wKhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/rjb0tlTAdRc/s1600-h/taize-blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215656685866068498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGG8Hz9wKhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/rjb0tlTAdRc/s320/taize-blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I remember being in this church, singing the Kyrie... with low, reverant voices. There is something about being in a place where many are gathered humbly, to worship.  It was a special day. We didn't stay that long. But I loved each moment. Drawn into a still and quiet place within me. Learning again to hear the voices of the few, lifted quietly but with awe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also remember praying with a dear friend, just sitting with her. Listening to her prayers. Honest and raw...so beautiful. My heart grew so much that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benedictus qui venit, in nomine Domini....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-6832097641350686514?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/6832097641350686514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=6832097641350686514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6832097641350686514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/6832097641350686514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/learning-to-pray.html' title='Learning to pray'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGG8Hz9wKhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/rjb0tlTAdRc/s72-c/taize-blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-7880487509524411660</id><published>2008-06-23T22:22:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T00:01:52.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Roses on the path</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGBbRc4p5NI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Rk8QcxDhFrM/s1600-h/IMG_0657%5B1%5D+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215268723864757458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGBbRc4p5NI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Rk8QcxDhFrM/s320/IMG_0657%5B1%5D+(2).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A friend sent me this picture today. It was a beautiful image to see first thing this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been talking about what it means to really trust Jesus. Sunday school answers don't always help, though sometimes I find myself returning to the simplest of words I learned way back when, like: "Jesus Loves Me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'll ever really fully understand those three words. Even if it takes me a lifetime to learn what others learn seem to learn so quickly, I'm glad to explore the hidden layers of what they mean for me, and for others I meet along the path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question for me, as my friend shared this picture, was how do I receive his love? It is freely given. Do I freely receive it? Or because of my own frailties do I miss it? Turn most of it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, my friend simply shared from her heart the story of when she picked up this cross and found the rose. I cried. I'm sentimental at the best of times. But her words made me long once again to pick up my cross and find my rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am praying for that again tonight.&lt;br /&gt;(Psalm 84).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-7880487509524411660?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/7880487509524411660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=7880487509524411660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7880487509524411660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/7880487509524411660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/roses-on-path.html' title='Roses on the path'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SGBbRc4p5NI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Rk8QcxDhFrM/s72-c/IMG_0657%5B1%5D+(2).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-8662250385984428216</id><published>2008-06-22T22:54:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T23:41:42.543-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tulips'/><title type='text'>At home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SF8QjsZdjkI/AAAAAAAAAHw/l71jiEBJvDo/s1600-h/Picture+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214905098917744194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SF8QjsZdjkI/AAAAAAAAAHw/l71jiEBJvDo/s320/Picture+008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This photo is from my back yard. The tulips are long gone now and lavendar and other flowers are taking over the space they held this spring. But for the short season they were there, they brought me hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had forgotten planting them last fall. In a spontaneous moment, I went to a garden center last fall to catch up with a childhood memory. That garden center is where my mom used to go to get any number of finds for her lovely gardens. I used to dread going there, but it was one of the few things that I remember mom really enjoying. So, on a grey day last fall, when I was needing to remember a happy family time, I bought some tulip bulbs. Dozens of them. It took me a week to plant them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was what I needed then just to get outside at the end of the day to plant a few here and a few there. I laughed with my mom on the phone as she gave me tips on getting the perfect depth and where to plant them. It was good to connect with my mom in that way. And it was better to be outside, with my hands in the dirt, praying....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd forgotten all about those moments by the time spring came around. It was a very demanding spring this year, for a lot of reasons. Much more than usual. So when I went outside and saw the rows of bright colours along my fence, and in this garden too, it brought a lot of joy to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a simple thing. Stick a few bulbs in the ground. Forget. Wait what seems like forever for some warmth... and then, without any effort, there are beautiful spring flowers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember coming home after a busy work day, and stopping with wonder. And felt the hope symbolized by spring: Easter Joy.  Tulips, freesia, lily of the valley. All in bloom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus spoke to my heart that day. He reminded me that he sees all of the moments, remembers all of the moments we forget. Prayers, offered long ago, may seem buried. But they are not lost. In the right season, at just the right time, he shows us brilliantly that he heard us....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exd. 13:4-10&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-8662250385984428216?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/8662250385984428216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=8662250385984428216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8662250385984428216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/8662250385984428216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/at-home.html' title='At home...'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SF8QjsZdjkI/AAAAAAAAAHw/l71jiEBJvDo/s72-c/Picture+008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4129122682025133607.post-1002899034700806803</id><published>2008-06-22T11:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T11:58:57.747-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Started</title><content type='html'>Greetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where to start....always the most difficult step is just to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts over the past few weeks and conversations have led me through many deep places. My heart is one that is just learning to flow with words. So, this seemed like as good a space as any to capture some of those ideas and share them with those who are open to prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not all prayer is the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know me, you will know quickly that I love Jesus. He is my saviour, my Lord, and friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you will find on these pages, expresses my heart in that context...for it is only through Christ that my heart holds any promise at all. Only Jesus. Always Jesus. Everyday Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have travelled a bit and I love being in many different nations. Spiritual matters and expressions wherever I go, I find very interesting. But I hope always to be clear about whom it is that I serve, no matter where I may travel or what I may learn in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with that... let the blog begin. Amen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4129122682025133607-1002899034700806803?l=wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/feeds/1002899034700806803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4129122682025133607&amp;postID=1002899034700806803' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1002899034700806803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4129122682025133607/posts/default/1002899034700806803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheretherearebutterflies.blogspot.com/2008/06/getting-started.html' title='Getting Started'/><author><name>Shelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07091401539436368480</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_yuWyq8sGTU4/SHQ5iZVVyqI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fBAuPMWmtZc/S220/test.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
