Palm Sunday 2015

Praise God for warmer weather.
Praise God for good education.
Praise God for friends.
Praise God for family.
Praise God for music.
Praise God for story.
Praise God for being humble when we, His creation, are not.
Praise God for sewing.
Praise God for new discoveries.
Praise God for teaching us through hard circumstances.
Praise God for health insurance.
Praise God for blue skies.
Praise God for caring people.
Praise God for loving us when we do not deserve it.
Praise God for eye-opening experiences.
Praise God for happier days.
Praise God for bearing our burdens.
Praise God for rain.
Praise God for flowers.
Praise God for redeeming us.
Praise God for feeling pretty without makeup for the first time in my life.
Praise God for rest.
Praise God for colors.
Praise God for lifting our heads from despair.
Praise God for role models.
Praise God for sending His long-expected Son.
Praise God for His Son’s unexpected humility, poverty, humanity, and love.
Praise God for doing what many of us will be remembering through this Holy Week.

Read from the beginning:

Just a Spoonful

Fifty years ago, Julie Andrews sang that “just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down”.  Forty years after that, Johnny Depp, acting as J.M. Barrie, said to little Peter Llewelyn Davies, “Just a dog?  Just?  Porthos, don’t listen to him!  Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to dash those dreams by saying he’s just a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That’s like saying, ‘He can’t climb that mountain, he’s just a man,’ or ‘That’s not a diamond, it’s just a rock.’ Just.”

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It’s Not About Us, Either

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable. – C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

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Not A Weakness

Growing up, I thought it was a weakness to have to worry about one’s weight; I thought it was the person’s own fault for not being trim.  Everyone should have been able to overcome that “weakness” in one way or another.  At least that’s what I thought until something very unexpected happened.  Two months before I left for my freshman year at Furman University, I was forced to welcome this “weakness” with open arms, whether I liked it or not.  I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.  On Wednesday 18 June 2008, I went to the doctor for a check up so that she could sign papers saying that I was healthy and could live in on-campus housing.  After getting blood drawn and getting a couple of shots, I left the appointment to get my usual reward for putting up with needles: ice cream.  But this time, I didn’t go for a small ice cream cone or frozen yogurt; I wanted to try out something my friends had been talking about recently, a Chick-Fil-A milkshake.  I think I got strawberry.  I came home and started practicing my violin (my plan was to major in music) and got a call from the doctor at about 5 or 6pm saying my blood sugar was so high that the meter couldn’t read it (which meant it was over 500), my A1c was 16.5%, and there were way too many ketones in my urine.  All the numbers she threw at me over the phone made absolutely no sense whatsoever.  Was 500 a bad number?  I guessed so, since she was suggesting I go to the Emergency Room immediately.  How on earth was the random number 16.5 related to all of this?  And what were ketones?  (Actually, to tell you the truth, even now I can’t tell you what they are.  Time to look it up myself.)  And what did urine have to do with blood and the sugar that was in my blood?

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