Category Archives: cancer volume 4

growing…

growing…

My hair. Beginning seeds have begun their sprouting, and I can’t decide if I’m going to be completely gray at forty-four or will continue with a patchy mix of various shades. While barely visible to others, I feel my hair there… soft and tender and just enough of a reminder to me that life is springing forth from a recent hollowed-out landscape. A beautiful gift of unraveling grace in this season of rebirth. A visible reminder to me that spring follows winter, that blooms follow a planting, and that with time, a full garden of full growth will be evident for all the world to witness.
With full growth comes closer tending. In days to come, I will seek out a new stylist for the job. I haven’t needed one since moving here last June. A bald head doesn’t require much attention. Whereas other women are spending lots of time and money on their tresses each day, I simply pull out the box beneath my bed and pick out a turban/scarf that matches the clothes I’m wearing. I have Darlene to thank for them. I suppose, in a different sort of way, she’s been my stylist in this season—a woman committed to meeting the “hair” needs of cancer patients.
She owns two shops within an hour’s drive of my home, each of them filled with enough wigs, scarves, hats, and ribbon wear to stylishly outfit a naked head. Even more so, Darlene stocks a heart filled with compassion and understanding for the patrons of her wares. Her customer service doesn’t stop at the cash register. Her ministry extends beyond dollars and cents to include follow-up phone calls and conversations, assuring the patron that she is not alone in her fight against cancer. It may seem a simple thing to some, but to me Darlene is a living, breathing extension of God’s grace and love. She’s doing her part to add vibrancy and color to the canvas named cancer, and I feel so honored to be a recipient of her careful concern.
Darlene is the reason I loaded a few books into my ten-year-old mini-van last evening and traveled to her shop to speak to a group of cancer survivors. She’s been asking me for a while now… to come a give a word or two about my story and about my Peace for the journey. I wasn’t sure what I could offer them in the way of encouragement; after all, most of them have been on this cancer road longer than me and could offer a few pointers as it pertains to living this cancer through to victory. Still and yet, I remembered my bracelet and my word for the year, and I went… entrusted by God with the truth.
And so it unfolded—an evening of fellowship, food, and truth-telling amidst the sacred circle of survivors. I was honored to sit amongst them… to hear their laughter, to receive their acceptance, and to see the resiliency in their eyes as they spoke a bit of their stories to me. In turn, I spoke a bit of my story to them; I don’t remember much of what I said, but I do know that the name of Jesus was spoken, and once he took the stage, I quickly came to realize that his name resonated with them as well. One by one, they offered their take on faith, and without exception all acknowledged their deep dependency on God as they battled through their cancer.
Indeed, I was in good company last evening. A garden of spring blooms. Sweet sisters in Christ, valiant and strong and a lovely reminder of all that can go right with cancer… all the splendor that can spring forth in abundance after a long, wintering season of silence. Now, as a cancer survivor myself, my flower gets added to the bouquet… one stem mingled amongst many to serve as a living reminder that God, Creator Universal, delights in painting blossoms into the bleakest of seasons.
Not long ago, I wrote these words…
Cancer will not be my undoing; rather cancer will be the threshold of my emerging. After last evening’s fellowship with survivors and because of the now sprouting tendrils that blanket my scalp, I’m closer to believing that statement more fully. Sometimes it takes a season’s worth of struggle to anchor firm belief. I’m six months into that struggle, friends, and my faith roots grow deeper every day. I don’t know how the subsequent pages of my story will read; I wouldn’t dare take a peek. But this I do know…
The faith-building that I’m doing today will better prepare me for the chapters that remain. I cannot control tomorrow’s unfolding, but I can, this day, better prepare my heart for its arrival. Accordingly, I tend to the garden of my heart, caring for the seeds already sown and watering them with the truth of God’s timely and gentle Word. The once hollowed-out landscape is ripe with the reminders of spring.
Resurrection blooms… headed my way and on display for all the world to see. Thanks be to God for the marvelous gift of his sustaining grace. As always…
Peace for the journey
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entrusted {word for 2011}

entrusted {word for 2011}

From my perch on the couch, I watched him trim her nails. Never in her eight years on this earth did I recall him trimming baby girl’s nails. She was caught off-guard as well, looking at me occasionally as if to say, “Daddy isn’t doing this right…” or “What’s with the nail file?” And while I should have been grateful for his willingness to help, instead I was sad. Really sad, and I began to cry.
“I should be doing this, Billy. I always do this for her. You’re doing it wrong. I want to do this.”
He offered his apologies, understanding that there was something greater going on inside of me than just a compulsion for nail clipping. He knew that my mothering heartstrings were pulling hard and that his helpfulness was a direct reflection on just how little energy I have for the small things of life these days. That out of his great love for me, he wanted to spare me the details and allow me room enough to focus on the stuff that really matters. What he doesn’t understand is that nail-clipping really does matter to me; not because I’m an expert. Rarely have I acquiesced to a manicurist’s touch. No, my daughter’s nails matter to me because there are just some jobs that belong to me as her mother. Some things that I’ve always done… still need to do, because in doing them, I feel like I matter. Like I’m needed. Like I belong to something bigger than myself. Like my being here has purpose, even if that purpose seems small to others. Perhaps you understand.
We all need jobs that belong to us… need a focus and a reason to stir our hearts into action each day that we live on this earth. Without our attachments along these lines, we default to couch-livin’ and ample tears. We pass on the duties that are supposed to be ours rather than living out the responsibilities that are within our reaches and tethered closely to our hearts. God made our hearts for good work—for putting our hands to the plow and breaking up the unplowed earth beneath our feet. He understands that faith is best preserved when faith is liberally sown. Thus, he’s given each of us a job.
A similar job. We may travel all manners of terrain to get there, may institute a wide variety of regimens to accomplish our goals, but at the end of the day… at the end of this life, our life’s work really boils down to one, main objective.
To know God and then out of that knowing lead others to know the same. (I wrote about that here).
Accordingly, as I look to the New Year and as I have been reflecting on this one job that God has given me, several scriptures (with one overriding theme) have come into focus to serve as my anchor verses for the year. Read them to discover a common thread:
“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men….” (Matthew 5:14-16a).
“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20a).
 “So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation… And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.” (2 Corinthians 5:16-20).
“Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God game me to present to you the word of God in its fullness.” (Colossians 2:24-25).
And finally,
“So then, men ought to regard us as servants of Christ and as those entrusted with the secret things of God. Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful.” (1 Corinthians 4:1-2).
Entrusted.
My “word” and my focus for 2011; not just with any task, but with the high and holy task of telling others the reason behind the hope that I hold in my heart. A weighty assignment for certain, but one that is required of me because of my status as a daughter of the King. I hold a great Truth inside of me. Sharing about Him isn’t an option for any believer. We think that it sometimes is… that sometimes we get a pass because we didn’t go to seminary and get the professional degree or receive official ordination from a committee. But kingdom work of this kind belongs to all of us. It’s simply time for me to get a bit more serious about it all. Wouldn’t you agree?
As I reflect back to my anchor verses for 2010(1 Cor. 6:19-20), I had no idea at the time of my selecting them just exactly what would be required of me to honor them. My body… a temple of the Holy Spirit? Honoring God with my body because I was bought at a price—the very blood of God’s own Son? Have mercy, I imagine it a good thing I didn’t fully grasp the breadth and depth of what that would mean for me on the front side of 2010. It’s only now, standing on the backside of an almost indescribable year of suffering faith that I’m even able to hold a bit of insight along these lines. I imagine I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together neatly, but I am confident that they will… fit. One day… on the backside of my earthly tenure.
Until then, I’m going to be busy with God’s business… with the sacred trust that’s been entrusted to me. No more couch livin’ and ample tears because I’ve handed off the responsibility to someone else. Instead, the clippers are in my hands for the trimming. For the mattering. For the needing. For the belonging to something… Someone bigger than myself. For the only purpose that truly matters on the front side of my living this thing out—
to know God and then out of that knowing, lead others to know the same.
Therefore, I no longer regard anyone from a worldly point of view. I view them from God’s point of view and that, my friends, is a rich perspective from which to anchor a year’s view.
Entrusted. Oh God keep me faithful to the truth I’ve been given. Keep my brothers and sisters as well. As always…
Peace for the journey,
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on writing words…

Words.
I don’t have many of them these days, at least not the written kind. If you were here in person, I’d have plenty to say, but as it pertains to my writing them, I’m struggling. I don’t know if the chemo is to blame or the busyness of the season, but safe to say, either one of those might be reason enough to warrant a dry spell as far as my pen is concerned.
I hate that; there’s nothing worse for a writer than to be void of words. Certainly, I have plenty of good thoughts that come my way—inclinations that, in seasons previous, would have easily written into worthy prose. But now, as quickly as they come, they seem to vanish. By the time I arrive at my computer screen, I get confused and messed up all over again… frustrated by this new reality.
So, rather than writing nothing, I thought I’d write about my frustration, thus allowing me a moment or two of connection with you this week. I wish I had something more profound to say, something that would leave you breathless and wanting more of your Jesus. He’s certainly worthy of the chase, and it has always been my endeavor to lead you in the pursuit. And for all the things that I could tell you this morning (that currently have vacated my thought coffers), I will remind you of this one thing that I remember most prominently…
Regardless of how you and I might be feeling in this moment, regardless of life situations and difficulties, no matter the ills and aches of the flesh or the problems that land at the doors of our faith, our God is still faithful to deliver a word of hope and comfort to us via his Word every time we’re faithful to open it up for a read. Unlike my many words, or lack therein, God’s Word is never void of purpose, never lacking in pointedness or punctuation. God’s Word wasn’t written out of frustration or from a drying ink well.
When and where God had thoughts, man had inspiration. His computer screen (a.k.a. parchment or stone tablets) was never empty. Even before man put God’s divinely inspired thoughts to paper, the Word was there from the very beginning. He hovered over the dark and the deep, contemplating the many words to come. Never was he confused or messed up or frustrated by the reality of what was to be written. There was order to his thoughts, his plans, his actions; no chemo brain or busyness to impede the flow of his thought processes. Only a sanctioned progression of thinking until an accumulation of those thoughts became words that spoke light and sky, land and sea, stars and moon, plants and animals, man and woman into creation.
We didn’t arrive here, nor do we hold the things that we hold this day, because God had writer’s block and couldn’t think of anything else about which to speak. No, we are here at his determination, and I am thankful for the daily reminder of that gift—for the various Bibles that line my bookshelf and for the one that lies open within arm’s reach. I don’t have to travel very far in order to fill my heart with perfect truth. All I have to do is to make room for it; take time for it; prefer it over other activity. In doing so, I open up my thoughts toward heaven and allow Jesus to lead me in my pursuit of all things his… all things sacred. And that, my friends, is the one thing I could write you about today that leaves me breathless and wanting for more.
Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, dwelling amongst us for a season; living within us for always.
Truly, is there anything else I could pen that would be more pertinent, more potent for your faith journey? When we stray even a step or two away from that reality with our thinking, then our words (whether written or spoken) become vacant of great purpose, leaving recipients void of anything more lasting than a momentary fill of the temporal. Heaven knows, there’s plenty of that floating around this time of year. Accordingly, we must be all the more intentional about our pursuit of the lasting Truth, about choosing our words carefully (those we read; those we speak; those we write).
I don’t ever want you to leave my blog feeling that you hold less of Jesus than when you arrived. I don’t ever want you to come here looking just for me, alone, without Jesus. I want my words to be about the journey we walk together, Jesus and me. And when they don’t, when words fail me and I am tempted to make it all about me, then I implore my Heavenly Father for a holy hush to take up residence here. Why? Because you don’t need any more filler in your life; you certainly don’t need more of me and my endless blah, blah, blah. What you need is Jesus… the Way, the Truth, the Life. He is your pathway home; I’m only required to serve as one lamppost along the way.
Thus, I will endeavor to keep doing what I’ve been doing for nearly three years now—writing a few words of witness in keeping with my kingdom conferment. Forgive me for the times when they write less; grant me grace for the occasions when they fill you temporarily. My flesh isn’t always the best conduit for faith’s dispersion. Even so, I get to try, and with God’s pulse living inside of me, there are a few occasions when I come close to getting it right. Thus, I offer this simple prayer in accordance with the pulse of my heart…
Even so, Lord Jesus, let the further words of my mouth, the continuing meditations of my heart, be found acceptable in your sight. I want to honor you with my pen in this place. I want to honor the pulse you placed within my heart so long ago. Guard me against inerrant teaching; keep me from penning anything that would deliberately dishonor the call that you’ve placed upon my life to know you more. You’ve entrusted me with much. May I always be found willing to guard that trust with sacred reverence and to dispense it accordingly. You are the Word behind my many words. Let your truth shine forth through me and through my pen. Amen. 
~elaine
PS: My friend, Cindy @ Letters from Mid-life, is a beautiful photographer. Recently, I received some Scripture note cards, displaying her photography. You can get a peek at them by clicking on her etsy link here. I’m giving away two sets (each set contains 5 cards) this week to comments on this post. I love sending cards to others and am always in the market for original work by artists. These would make a great gift for someone’s stocking this year. Please take time to visit her work. Shalom.

on Christian "calling"

“Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (John 17:3)
 
 
Calling.
 
Yours and mine.
 
You know the word. If you’re immersed in pop-Christian culture, then you’ve heard it before, probably even received some preaching about it from the pulpit. It certainly is the topic of many current best-sellers, Bible studies, devotionals, and self-helps all determined to aid you in your exploration toward discovering what yours is…
 
Your calling.
 
I can hardly abide the word. It makes me bristle each time I hear it used in casual word-toss amongst Christians. Not because I don’t believe in its validity—that, in fact, each one of us has a calling—but rather because of the way its intentional “push” is leaving so many of us feeling diminished. As if, somehow, we’ve missed the mark when it comes to our relationship with Jesus and just exactly what that means for us as it pertains to our doing something for the kingdom in keeping with our conferment.
 
Over and over again, I receive e-mails and comments regarding the issue; words like:
 
I’m afraid I’ll miss my calling.
How do I know what my calling is?
I know that God has called me to something, I’m just not sure what it is.
 
Words like that. And I feel the pain of those who utter such confusion, because I, too, have spoken similar uncertainty in recent years. I’ve spent a lot of time researching the issue, sweating through the issue, praying about the issue, purchasing and working through the issue via some valuable resources, all to arrive at a similar conclusion about the issue of my calling: that, apparently, I’m not there yet. That what I’m doing for Jesus doesn’t match up with what the experts are saying. That according to them, I’ve yet to really take hold of what my calling is because there remains a restlessness within my spirit. That because I don’t have clearly defined goals in place and that because my “passion and pulse” have yet to be fully determined, then I’ve got some more work to do. That if I’ll just keep reading more, practically “applying” more, jumping through spiritual hoops more, then maybe, at the end of it all, I’ll find what I’ve been longing for—God’s more for my life.
 
Oh my good friends, what a dangerous and willing slope we often stand upon when it comes to God’s “calling” upon our lives. What a tragedy to live beneath the weightiness of such burden. We’ve made God’s calling upon our lives a cumbersome yoke around our necks. We’ve made it too hard to understand, too glamorous, too glitzy, too elite to attain. We inadvertently have reserved it as something for those who are seemingly more seasoned in their walks with God—those who hold the market on righteousness and faithful living—all because we have decided that our spiritual temperature isn’t yet hot enough to warrant kingdom effectiveness.
 
Instead of feeling relieved after our careful examination of the Christian “calling,” we often conclude such contemplations feeling diminished. Less than. Under used and as having “missed the mark” when it comes to our Father’s plans for our lives. We dangerously compare ourselves to others, wondering that if somehow we could be more like them, then surely, we’d have some peace regarding the issue. But the truth is, the more closely we examine our lives in relationship to others, the more willing we become to concede our limitations and minimize our worthiness.
 
And then there we are… stuck in confusion, pained by our ponderings, and begging the Lord for clarity regarding our callings.
 
And then there, too, is God… stuck in our confusion, pained by our ponderings, and longing to bring clarity regarding our callings, because he, unlike the experts of today, has kept it pretty simple.
 
His theology isn’t weighed down by a lifetime of good study, marketable research, fads and trends and buzz words. Unlike us, God has little regard for five-step programs or carefully administered checklists when it comes to his calling upon our lives. God doesn’t need the benefit of our wisdom and our well-intentioned efforts as it pertains to helping ourselves and others determine his intentions for us. God, simply and profoundly, boils “calling” down to two words.
 
Know me.
 
That’s it, and it’s enough… at least it is for me. When I came to this realization a couple of years ago, I was freed from the burden of my “calling” as it was being purported within Christian circles. I no longer carry the struggle of having to figure mine out, because in knowing God, I know more and hold more than I will ever be able to fully administer to others in my lifetime. I don’t have to go searching for my calling and what that will look for me in the days to come. I simply have to know him more today than I did yesterday and then, out of that knowing, lead others to know the same.
 
It’s what Jesus Christ prayed for in his garden moments before his crucifixion. That we, believers in a season yet to come, would know him and his Father… intimately (John 17). That we would share in the love and knowledge of a relational God who longs to reveal himself—his character and his heart—to his children. That the overriding “passion” and boast of our hearts would not be regarding our wisdom, our strength, and our riches, but that instead our boast would be in our understanding and knowing God (Jeremiah 9:23-24).
 
And that with that being said, even more so lived, we walk in our callings. Not perfectly, but more fully as God intended. Daily stepping alongside Truth, so that with every breath we take, every thought we think, every word we speak, we do so knowing that God hovers in close proximity to our frames, making sure that we get it right. Get Him right.
 
Knowing God, and then out of that knowing, leading others to know the same.
 
This is my life calling. My freedom shout. My willingness to believe it’s just as simple and as beautifully profound as it writes and reads and sounds. May God grant me, perhaps even you, the courage to walk his depth and breadth for as long as the earthen sod tarries beneath our feet. May you know God more today than you did yesterday, and may you harbor the expectation of tomorrow’s knowing as sweet promise in your heart.
 
Knowing God. If you are headed in that direction, friends, then you are walking your calling.
 
Keep to it. Keep to the glorious revelation of our King. I’ll meet you on the road. As always…
 
Peace for the journey,

a greater thing…

 
I’ve been stuck recently. Hung up on and hunkered down in a thought or two regarding a particular spoken word from Jesus. A promise. One that doesn’t compute with my internal, spiritual compass. One that has always confused me, challenged me, asked me to consider just exactly what he meant by his saying it. Perhaps it’s brought you reason for pause in your personal, exploration with God.
 
“I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father.” 
{John 14:12-13}
 
Doing what Jesus did. Even greater things. Almost seems treacherous typing it, much less laying claim to it as part of my personal identity. Surely he didn’t mean it as it sounds. Surely he isn’t saying what it seems as if he is saying. That I, that you, sinners saved solely by the grace of the cross, could walk in his similar shoes, dispensing a similar grace on similar occasions with similar results.
 
Surely not. Such a gift feels too weighty. Too much sacred privilege given to human flesh. Too much trust. Too much kindness. Too much royalty. Too much inheritance.  Too much glory for any one person to handle with any measure of Godly humility. Too big of a theology for a pint-sized brain like mine and an even weaker flesh to absorb in this moment.
 
I am in a diminished state. My thoughts aren’t always what I want them to be. Medications and course of treatment force my limits. My thinking is sometimes scattered, and I labor to have it make sense. Accordingly, when it comes to the weightiness of the Word of God and all its intricacies—the mystery and marvel of words that breathe as fresh breath from his lips today even as they were spoken in yesterday—I don’t always get it right. I’m no scholar; no theologian deeply steeped in study and adorned with degrees from the most prestigious religious institutions.
 
 
  Yes, my daddy is a preacher and served as a professor of preaching at one of the finest seminaries in the country. I spent years running its hallways and sitting under some of the richest preaching and teaching offered to formative young minds. As a youth, I was mentored by one of the most deeply committed, well-known youth leaders in the country who made it his solid commitment to make sure that the pulse of my heart would eventually catch up with my over-grown head. Indeed, I was offered the best when it came to my spiritual shaping. But even with all of that tutelage back then and with all of what I’ve come to know since that season…
 
I still get stuck sometimes. And I wonder about God and his promises to me and what he means for me to do with such knowledge. How do I take what he says, apply it to my heart, and then live it out most courageously before his watchful gaze in hopes that I do him some justice… bring him some glory? What could I do in this season of my life that would even come close to matching the sentiment of his heart as spoken in John 14? How can I, sick as I am, stand where I am, as a representative of the I AM and do even greater things?
 
It doesn’t compute, but then again, neither does grace. And just the other morning while others (perhaps even you) were catching sleep granted humans via the natural cycle of life, I was clutching my cross, and I had a thought regarding my “greater thing.” It arrived in the form of few words from God’s Word. Silently, they crept in without notice, transferring me from the dark of my bedroom to the dark of a sea. A night some 2000 years ago, steeped in chaos, waves, and despair. A fourth watch where disciples, not unlike me, took to the waters in hopes of reaching the other side without incident. A night when fear roared its opposition in the face of truth and when faith was shaken to its core. A night when those who were closest to the Master needed the witness of his eternal hold.
 
A night scare that required a night God and the witness of a night Word that would carry them through to the morning’s light:
“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” {Matthew 14:27}    
 
And with those eight words, I become less stuck in my previous ruminations. For with Christ’s mandate in that moment—an event in history separated from his promise in John 14—I begin in my understanding of what Christ might mean by my “greater thing.” That I, feeble in flesh yet strong in Spirit, might be a someone who could make that night walk on behalf of the fearful. That God in his infinite mercy and willing cooperation might so endow me with the gift of his Spirit so that I could cross waves and cut through currents to become a hand’s extension. Heaven’s extension. A sacred bridge linking the dying, fear-filled soul to the living, faithful God.
 
That I, a single pilgrim on this journey of faith, might know the power of an interceding Jesus. And that because of his Holy Spirit, I might be filled to overflow with Him so that I would be able to withstand the fear of the night’s storm in order to walk in peaceful pause to extend the courage of Christ to others.  
 
That, my friends, is a greater thing… a greater work. To be one extension amidst millions of other faith-filled extensions who are well-supplied and well-equipped to dispense the King’s courage. Not because of anything we have done, but rather because of everything he chose to do. He chose to make me and you a part of his rich inheritance. We stand alongside him as co-heirs to an undeserved kingdom. On paper and in our minds, such grace will never compute. We’ll never be able to make sense of the “greater things” he has in mind for us to do. But every now and again, when we really take hold of all of what that might mean for us, we catch a glimpse of perfect understanding.
And we find our place… our sacred responsibility and our reason for moving forward with our faith in this world.
 
We are here for God’s greater thing. I don’t know what that will look like for you in the week ahead, but I do know where the fearful live in my little corner of the world. They cloister together less than a mile from my front door, in chairs hooked up to the deathblows and life-giving vein named chemotherapy. Many are stuck in the fourth watch. Many have yet to know that God is the Master of their fourth watch. That his courage and his hands are available to them, and that just maybe, those hands might come to them through a weakened vessel named Faith Elaine. Hands wrinkled by years. Hands drying by drugs. Hands weathered by understanding.
Hands extended in love. Hands speaking the truth in love…
“Take courage; It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
Words rightly and humbly spoken by a daughter of the King. A greater thing, indeed. What a marvelous, treasured gift with which to be entrusted. Live your greater thing like you mean it, friends, and never underestimate your worthiness in the kingdom of God. He has called us, each one, to a greater understanding of the greater gift we’ve been allowed. Use it all, do it all, love them all with his greater end in mind. As always…
Peace for the journey,
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