tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64265274195070173032024-02-07T09:33:31.161-08:00Contented Chaos a random collection of the musings of a mom, wife, artist, and Christian looking for the awesome in the ordinaryColleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-53911896051570108452017-05-03T07:44:00.001-07:002017-05-11T06:43:08.334-07:00"Extroverted" is not "Open"<p dir="ltr">Bubbly, outgoing, talkative, bold, fearless, friendly, extroverted, hypersocial.</p>
<p dir="ltr">All of these words were used frequently to describe me over the years. I was usually the one making the plans for my friends and I on a friday night. Usually the first one to greet new people. Most likely to talk to strangers. The presenter for class projects. <br>
But there is usually more than meets the eye, and the most "bubbly" person is often covering a heart full of insecurity and anxiety. But our brave face hides the fact that we are emotionally strung out on craving approval. Our fear of man looks less like withdrawal from people, and more like stealing the spotlight to prove our value and relevance to others. <br>
We tell stories about the funny things we did or encountered and it serves as a great deflection to keep you from knowing our weaknesses and failings. If I talk all the time the no one will worry that im not OK. So for years we mask depression, sickness, physical pain, emotional traumas, and sin, because we  need you to approve.<br>
And it works. Too well. Because we fool ourselves and you. We seem godly, healthy, emotionally balanced and we are "great friends. "<br>
But, when we come to the end of our ability to pretend, and trust me, we all do, what happens? The fallout is enough to deflate our fantasy of perfection and show us how empty we feel, and how many of our relationships are  built on the lies we have lived. We try and share our genuine struggles and are met with disbelief, or shock. "You dont seem...sick. sad.  Anxious. Lonely. Afraid." Or you confirm our worst fears, and you treat us as if our new found flaw is the sum total of our identity. All else becomes lost as you label us as your sick friend. Your gay friend. Your depressed friend. Your friend who was abused. Your friend who eats their emotions. But we arent really your friend at all, because you dont know us beyond the surface we showed. And its our fault. All of ours. Yours and mine.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So how do we fix this? How do we build real relationships based on openess and genuine connection? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Here are few things that I have found helpful over my years as a so called "extrovert." I am sure this will relate to some of you that identitfy as introverted as well, since personally I dont put much stock in distinction in terms of struggles. This list of course is not be a one size fits all solution, because people and their struggles arent one size fits all. </p>
<p dir="ltr">-<b>Honesty</b>. I have to be brutally and painfully honest. With myself. God and others. This means allowing myself to recognize and name the things i dislike about myself, and bringing them to light, so they lose their dark power over me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">-<b>Sincerity</b>. This seems similar to honesty, but i think of it more as allowing your emotions to be real. Not just telling the truth "i have anxiety" but allowing the truth to show in your eyes as you tell someone. Be willing to cry, laugh, and pray with sincere emotions that are as deep as you feel them.</p>
<p dir="ltr">-<b>Wisdom</b>. It is OK, even advisable not to open yourself up deeply to everyone you know all at once. This leaves us vulnerable, not "known." So to begin seek out the friends who have seen your lowest lows, and tell them that you want to work on being more real with them. It takes time, so dont expect wildly encouraging heart to hearts and sudden growth in areas you havent watered. But dont underestimate the power of having a few people know you deeply. </p>
<p dir="ltr"><b>-Prayer.</b> Again, this connects back to the honesty and sincerity. You have to admit fully to God that you struggle to be the creation he made you to be. That you have allowed sin and struggles to define your actions more than the reality of your identity in Christ. That you hate being single, loud, overweight, lustful, proud,  etc. But you feel powerless to change. I cant say that he will take away your struggle. I wish I could say that prayer will instantly transform you into the open honest person God is calling you to be. But it can give you moment by moment strength to be open. Daily peace for your anxiety. Boldness to get the help you need to cope with fear of abandonment, or trauma. </p>
<p dir="ltr">-<b> </b><b>Identity</b>. <b> </b>I struggle to view myself and God views me. Fearfully and wonderfully made. A Child of God. In His Image. Part of the Spotless Bride of Christ. Redeemed. Called. Loved. Being conformed.<br>
I need reminders, from scripture, prayer, friends, and family. I need to memorize and renew my mind regularly to be made aware of how God sees me, and that his perspective is the one that matters. Not the opinion of college professors, bosses, exes, parents, magazines, movies, classmates, coworkers, or anyone who holds up a standard apart from God's.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Our personalities provide us each challenges in our walk to become like God, and it is easy to use them as a sheilf to hide behind. But there is so much grace available when we open ourselves up to let Him work in us and change us to be more like Him. <br></p>
Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-1526418235184311202017-05-02T11:29:00.000-07:002017-05-02T12:21:22.028-07:00Renewing my mind<div dir="ltr">
Poetry gives a framework to my often jumbled and scattered thoughts. It allows the steadily pulsing stream of words to take shape and come to a resting place. When I write I never really "choose" to write a poem, it happens mostly by accident. Often i scribble them on a napkin, or save in a random email draft, or text to myself. I just stumbled across this one, which I wrote a few years back, and i knew it was time to dust it off, shape it up, and share it with you all. </div>
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So without further ado:</div>
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<b>Renewing</b> <b>My Mind </b></div>
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Its hard to move forward and progress <br />
When the heart inside of you is such a mess<br />
Zero motivation, <br />
keep succumbing to temptation to delay, <br />
while my idle hands become the devils play--<br />
Things are never easy<br />
But hard work makes me queazy.<br />
I wanna do what will please me<br />
But then that leaves me<br />
Stuck in the same place<br />
Tears stain my face <br />
Reminded of a hundred disgraces<br />
Feel I've fallen from his good graces<br />
Feet pace, mind races and suddenly Gods hand traces his plan<br />
And embraces fallen man<br />
Called me, loved and kept me<br />
So why do I think he would forget or neglect me?<br />
Reject me, no simply corrects me. <br />
You see he died to protect me,<br />
From His wrath<br />
Saved by the atoning blood bath<br />
Do the math,<br />
Justice demands payment for sin<br />
So you can just <br />
Imagine <br />
the <br />
depth <br />
of <br />
debt <br />
I was in<br />
A perfect death after a holy life<br />
Was what God required to make my account right<br />
Right with God, no right to sin<br />
Must fight the evil that is within<br />
So In anticipation of temptation I will pray in preparation<br />
Guard my heart and guard my mind<br />
God in front and God behind<br />
Re-new your mind, remind <br />
Because its love that sees <br />
My flesh is blind<br />
To my own sinfulness <br />
Which got<br />
Me in this mess<br />
In the first place<br />
Which Christ then erased<br />
I know these are thoughts I've just repeated<br />
But my SINS have been defeated, debt deleted.</div>
Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-4363307253741531462017-04-17T10:47:00.000-07:002017-05-02T11:16:57.761-07:00The real picture: contentment in chaos.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What do you have hidden just out of the frame? Outside the frame of your pictures. Outside the frame of your public life. <br />
I will let you in on a not so secret "dirty little secret" of my life.<br />
Outside the frame of this picture <br />
<br /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-v2dz0v7h73dyY12ur5RtHuLB-PRqkud3wk8pY-Jon4rhCPTnBcSB6F-WFHZdKMphlPyEv3g2gnyBEK6yWynHO3xWuZeI_SxcoXYHfY7m1pkbIdmPUP5lXwUwDCBh0n73Nnjkh6wZ9Dk/s1600/20170414_221444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-v2dz0v7h73dyY12ur5RtHuLB-PRqkud3wk8pY-Jon4rhCPTnBcSB6F-WFHZdKMphlPyEv3g2gnyBEK6yWynHO3xWuZeI_SxcoXYHfY7m1pkbIdmPUP5lXwUwDCBh0n73Nnjkh6wZ9Dk/s400/20170414_221444.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
The picture of flowers my husband brought...<br />
Stacks of dirty dishes, and a floor covered in GMO cheerios and non organic strawberries from toddler rage. Outside the scope of the picture is the rough day and tears we had which inspired my husband to get the flowers.<br />
Are they beautiful? Absolutely. But they are more beautiful BECAUSE of the surrounding chaos that i try to crop out. Not in spite of it.<br />
<br />
So often I worry about how my life is percieved by others. How I am percieved by others. I worry about that more than I worry about how i am actually living my life. <br />
Am I loving my husband?<br />
Am I patient with the toddler who threw her cup on the floor for the 9 billionth time?<br />
Do I use my time well?<br />
Have I been a good friend?<br />
Outside the frame of your public image who are you? <br />
Do you find your contentment only when things are smooth, or are you content in chaos?<br />
My goal has been to be content in chaos. To love the messiness of life that is over run by little people. To genuinely let people into the dark corners of my life. To allow everything to be brought to light. To grieve openly, to laugh freely. <br />
But i have to fight the urge to "crop" my life. To edit out the crumb covered floor, and to sugar coat chronic pain as a "blessing." I fight the temptation to say that i feel "stronger" or "closer to God" because motherhood has been a beautiful experience. the reality is I feel closeer to God because life is chaos. Motherhood is chaos. Married life is chaos. And so was singleness. And college life. Life on earth is chaos. At least for me. The challenges God has allowed me mean that for the forseeable future...my life will have varying degrees of chaos. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_oYlF3P5i4P06fL2o9kSe9-e3C8XrRWoXxGzatZFwcXPIX7Kiel1bg4LvsnsGA1-KMxkppKSBNZvyD8xP-S38GTQWE7naa6kqEOrVAz0iaskiPTG9Wji-MxoytwUq3WUBSHQFbssuLM/s1600/IMG_20170409_172759_000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_oYlF3P5i4P06fL2o9kSe9-e3C8XrRWoXxGzatZFwcXPIX7Kiel1bg4LvsnsGA1-KMxkppKSBNZvyD8xP-S38GTQWE7naa6kqEOrVAz0iaskiPTG9Wji-MxoytwUq3WUBSHQFbssuLM/s320/IMG_20170409_172759_000.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Outside the frame of this selfie, well actually within the frame are signs of my brand of chaos. Walls I havent finished painting. Glasses I had to get because pregnancy altered ny eyesight. Hair just cut for maybe the third time in a year. A cute new shirt that probably wasnt in the budget...because my prepregnancy clothes are in boxes reminding me that I have a long way to go. Inside my head you can find ADHD and anxiety, cuss words, and sometimes depression, faithlessness, along with basically any brand of sin you can imagine. <br />
<br />
So hi, welcome to my life "unfiltered" and "uncropped"<br />
<br />
Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-7083453963543461022012-09-13T13:44:00.002-07:002012-09-13T13:47:36.144-07:00September 11th, The day we all grew up.This past Tuesday marked 11 years since September 11th ,2001. 11 years. That means I have lived as much of my life in a post 9/11 world as I did in my ignorance of such tragedy. One day at 11 years old I suddenly learned what terrorism was. I understood how it must have felt for Americans when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.<br />
<br />
I realized that I was living history. I realized that I was scared, and that I was so small. I was truly aware for the first time that there were people in the world who were willing to die to keep me safe.<br />
<br />
For me, and the millions of American children who sat in schools, and in homes, watching our futures change, this was the day we grew up.<br />
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We were no longer ignorant of the evil in the world. It could not be ignored.<br />
<br /> I think about 9/11 every time I look at a calender of the month of September. Every time I go through security in an airport, or a museum. Every time I watch an old movie with the skyline of New York.
Signs for the Pentagon, that used to be just road signs, remind me of that morning, and the dozens of mornings after. Each time I see a torn flag, or a building that is in ruins, my mind goes back to the never ending footage of Ground Zero.<br />
<br />
I can never forget.<br />
<br />
I don't ever want my children to have to know the way it felt to sit there and watch as our country was changed forever. But I don't ever want to forget. I do want them to know that there were untold thousands who died that day, and in the months that followed. I want them to know that firefighters, policemen, EMT's, soldiers, doctors, and everyday citizens who were not victims of the initial attacks who chose to serve, despite the risks. I want them to be proud of the way our nation stood together after the attack. I want them to make the choice to forgive those who harmed our nation, as I have. I want them to fully appreciate the freedoms that they have. I want them to be fully convinced that God was sovereign on that day, just as he is on the days of peace.<br />
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I never want to forget.<br />
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<br />Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-6326457934515138452012-06-10T07:43:00.001-07:002012-06-10T07:43:07.047-07:00Joy<br />
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<sup style="font-family: arial, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;">1</sup>joy</h2>
<span class="main-fl"><em style="color: #717274; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold;" xmlns:mwref="http://www.m-w.com/mwref">noun</em> </span><span class="pr" style="color: #717274; display: inline; font-size: 12px; margin-left: 10px;" xmlns:mwref="http://www.m-w.com/mwref">\<span class="unicode" style="background-image: none; font-family: 'lucida sans unicode'; font-size: 0.9em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">ˈ</span>j<span class="unicode" style="background-image: none; font-family: 'lucida sans unicode'; font-size: 0.9em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">ȯ</span>i\</span></div>
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<span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">a</em> <strong>:</strong> the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires <strong>:</strong><a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/delight" style="color: #1122cc; font-size: 14px; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none;">delight</a></span><span class="ssens"><span class="break" style="display: block; height: 10px;"></span><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">b</em> <strong>:</strong> the expression or exhibition of such emotion <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/gaiety" style="color: #1122cc; font-size: 14px; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none;">gaiety</a></span></div>
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<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> a state of happiness or felicity <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bliss" style="color: #1122cc; font-size: 14px; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none;">bliss</a></span></div>
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3</div>
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<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> a source or cause of delight</span></div>
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<span style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">Joy. To most people it is a word, and a fairly common one at that. But to me, and my family, Joy is a name. While it was not her legal name, nothing else suited my Granny, "Joy" Craynon half as well. She was joyful, and she inspired joy. Joy is not a superficial happiness you see in people whose lives are perfect, and so they have no reason to be unhappy. It isn't a "grin and bear it" attitude either. Joy stems from the knowledge that although circumstances are hard, and imperfect, there is something more to delight in. It was impossible not to feel like you were the most important thing in her world when you walked in the room. Her whole face would light up, and her eyes would sparkle, and immediately you would get dozens of hugs, kisses, and probably something to eat even if you didn't know you were hungry. Her kitchen was one of the safest, happiest places in the world. Not because of the endless supply of good food, or even the familiarity of it, and its hundreds of chicken figurines, but because of her. I want to be that to someone. That immovable force to be reckoned with. The smile that understands, and cares. The grandmother who listens to children like they are adults, and knows the best cure for bruised feelings is a hug and a moment to sit on her lap. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">No one can be summed up in words, so here is a picture of her and my sister to show you exactly what I mean. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemCdjlF4fQdZUnfCYcbDPzvuitclnz_kb8ttJeO-VLnCkhAallQGxjmyda4niMFHtkKRpUjmy_ib2z34ducCXby6909XhTLMrl_0fG3rDUkWvJ_ItHRl0Haip0rxaFDOiDbF4AJr6VzY/s1600/71_526343381538_9690_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemCdjlF4fQdZUnfCYcbDPzvuitclnz_kb8ttJeO-VLnCkhAallQGxjmyda4niMFHtkKRpUjmy_ib2z34ducCXby6909XhTLMrl_0fG3rDUkWvJ_ItHRl0Haip0rxaFDOiDbF4AJr6VzY/s640/71_526343381538_9690_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">I hope that one day I can show love as unconditionally, and be as truly joyful as my Granny. </span></span></div>
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</div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-85596057397805426072012-05-30T15:28:00.000-07:002012-05-30T15:31:55.916-07:00Mission before misters: a musing for my sisters<br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Funny how God can use something that you wrote months ago to help give perspective now. Thought I'd share again, in case someone else needs the reminder too.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">He is NOT the right guy</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">if it isn't Gods time.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">That's why I'm dropping lines</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">to tell messing around good bye.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Won't sit with a mountain of heartbreak and fears</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">And allow my cascading tears</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">to wash the joy from my single years.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">So my someone while I wait for "you"</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">I have other things I have been called to.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Been commissioned to tell the world what is true</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Image bearer, light bringer</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Even if there's never a ring on my finger.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Yet despite my calling my wishes still linger</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">So I bury my dreams father, deep in your hand</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">It's where my future is, whatever you've planned.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">I have always been kept by the only one who can</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Created for purposes bigger then just finding a man.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">He's making me more like my Jesus every moment</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Not a copycat faith, this is mine. I own it.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">I share in the greatest love story of all time,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">but some how I am so focused on "when do I get mine?"</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">I look to the future without eternity in mind</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">His Love lets us see, sin is what's blind.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Why do I live like a relation ship will fix</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">A world that's as busted as a house made out of sticks?</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">tall dark and handsome</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">This Broken world can't ransom</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Contentment does not lie</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Deep within sparkling eyes</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">But in the warm embrace of a father</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Who is always there if I'd just bother</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">To open up the pages</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">that I've kept shut for ages</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">But by not reading those commands</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Am I no longer guilty, do I have clean hands?</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Line after line point to one man for me</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Jesus Christ who died as he hung on a tree.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Now I am not giving up on a family someday</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">But while I am waiting I can do more than just pray.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Fill my life with learning and serving,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Get my flickering faith back to burning.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">I am so aware of every flaw in every guy I meet</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">But never one time facing the sin I should defeat</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Because if he's the kind of guy that God has told me to accept</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">then I should be the type of girl that kind of guy respects</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Struck anew by my constant need for Christ</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">With out him I won't even get contently waiting right.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Need his power to fulfill his own good plan</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">Need his strength, not a man,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;">to obey what he commands.</span></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-5061229065218240822012-05-29T19:55:00.000-07:002012-05-29T19:55:38.018-07:00Purple is my favorite color...I love purple. Not only because it is so pretty, but because it stands for something, and someone that I believe in. Purple is the color that symbolizes Cystic Fibrosis awareness. I know that in today's world, there are so many cure's being looked for, that it can be easy to just write this one off as one more cause that is great for someone else to support. But for me it is so much more than that. There are names, faces, not just of people, but of people I love. Why am I writing this now? Well for starters it is Cystic Fibrosis Awareness month. And next week I am participating in a fundraiser walk. But this post also coincides with my Mother's Day series. Yes, I know I got behind on those, and so this one is a little out of order.<br />
<br />
But I want you to meet my motivation for this walk.<br />
It seems weird to write this to you guys, so I am just going to write to her, and let you guys in on it =)<br />
<br />
Lindsey, In the last year and a half I have seen you grow and change so much. From the moment I saw you hold your little girl, something about you was different. All the fears about what being a mom would be like seemed not to matter, and I guess I can understand why when I see Rylee's face. She is beautiful, and you are doing a beautiful job with her. Every hug, smile and laugh on her face is proof of your love and care for her. She is growing up in such a caring environment, and is so in love with her mommy! I love watching your little family as she grows.<br />
In the last year you also changed in your view of life with Cystic Fibrosis. I saw your determination to fight CF grow, and it is still growing. I am so proud of the way you are committing to raise money, and awareness for research. But more than that, I am proud of your decisions to take care of you. Every time you do your therapies, even though you are tired, or it just doesn't seem worth it, you are keeping your promise to Rylee. I know it may seem backwards at times, but by doing what is best for you, you are doing the best for her too. Keep it up!<br />
I love you so much Linds, and I am glad that I get to be your cousin, and even better your friend.<br />
<br />
My cousins were diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis when they were 5 and 7 after years of battling "asthma". The diagnosis was a relief in some ways, because it was an answer to what was wrong. However simply knowing what you have is not a comfort when there is no cure.<br />
For those of you who don't know what Cystic Fibrosis is, or how it effects peoples daily lives, here are a couple links where you can learn more, or ask me in person.<br />
<a href="http://www.cff.org/">http://www.cff.org/</a>
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cystic_fibrosis">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cystic_fibrosis</a>
<br />
<a href="http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/condition/cystic-fibrosis">http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/condition/cystic-fibrosis</a>
<br />
<br />
If you are interested in supporting our team this week by donating, we would really appreciate it. It sounds cheesy, but literally every dollar makes a difference. Here is the link. <a href="http://www.cff.org/Great_Strides/ColleenCraynon8044" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.cff.org/Great_Strides/ColleenCraynon8044</a><br />
<br />
Thanks for lending me your time =)<br />
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<br />Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-17516594572652346402012-04-25T20:23:00.000-07:002012-04-26T07:06:58.005-07:00(grand) Mother's dayPart 2 in my Mothers day series<br />
<br />
In honor of my mommy's birthday I would like you to meet HER mommy. Some years ago (*coughiwon'tsayhowmanycough*) today this wonderful woman welcomed my mommy into the world.<br />
<br />
Nancy Lee Caufield Marshall.<br />
For those of you that were lucky enough to have met her, I can pretty much stop there and you would still understand why I want to be like her. But not everyone had the privilege of meeting her, so I will let you know a few things about the wonderful woman who was my Mamma.<br />
Born in 1925 in Pleasant View, Virginia, it comes as no surprise that my grandmother exemplified true southern charm. She had a gentle, quiet manner, and a "no-need-to-rush" outlook on life. While I am completely to opposite of "quiet", it is her peace that I admire so much. She was calm in the face of many difficult trials, including her husband's illness, and later her own. It was incredibly rare for her to be angry, even when grandchildren tested her patience, or it became hard for her to communicate. Not that it never happened, but I can probably count on my hands the number of times I heard her raise her voice at anyone in the almost 21 years that I knew her.<br />
There was a grace and dignity about her, perhaps because she was a southern lady, or maybe because she was a true lady. It may seem like a silly, little girly, thing to say, but my grandmother was a real lady. She represents a lot of things that our generation rejects. Modesty, moderation, and femininity. And I hope that I can be like her.<br />
Mamma wore dresses, makeup, and had long beautiful hair. She was never showy, or overdone. Nor did she dress the way she did because society pressed her to. She took pride in her appearance, and in being put together. She may not have been looking for a lot of attention, but I can't imagine her not turning every head when she walked in a room looking like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglz96gJKaqxMdQLHlusskNokNtxDVzGbBG7BrYb5tjVp-raBFuANZc_YAEOVG1gGUXr6bRgoCgy6nkCxCgwsbWfY5vQTivZFuFxiB10uYytAqAdCBw9UNj_Ry03Pvj1jDqKQ4-HvHbers/s1600/mamma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglz96gJKaqxMdQLHlusskNokNtxDVzGbBG7BrYb5tjVp-raBFuANZc_YAEOVG1gGUXr6bRgoCgy6nkCxCgwsbWfY5vQTivZFuFxiB10uYytAqAdCBw9UNj_Ry03Pvj1jDqKQ4-HvHbers/s320/mamma.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
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I can't talk about the kind of woman my grandmother was, without mentioning the kind of man she married. My grandparents may not have been the most emotionally expressive people, but they clearly loved each other very much. Yes, they did take on "traditional" or "archaic" roles in their marriage, which society may rebel against, but I say "why mess with success?" My grandfather was the main provider, making sure that he worked hard, and saved wisely to take care of my grandmother, and ensuring she was provided for even after he passed away. Mamma was a school teacher (hmm, maybe I will be like her!), but she also made their house a home. She was a phenomenal cook (yet another way I want to be like her), and when Grampa got sick she learned to cook new foods so he could eat them. They worked with each other, complementing each others strengths, supporting their weaknesses. Better together than apart.No, they did not have a perfect marriage, but that doesn't exist. They had a lasting marriage. Not just a marriage that they endured, but a marriage that worked. He drove her to the grocery store, and she laughed at his ridiculous jokes.With 46 years of marriage, to their credit, I can honestly say I want that. I want to be like her. Patient, loving, feminine.<br />
<br />
Thanks for stopping by, I am glad you got to "meet" my Mamma!<br />
<br />
Next up is my other grand mother, so stop back soon!Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-38452412532469236412012-04-12T09:00:00.006-07:002012-04-17T11:23:21.507-07:00She is still a Craynon!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>In honor of mother's day coming up next month, I decided to do a sort of mini-series as it were, and introduce you to some of my favorite moms. Mom's that I want to be like when I grow up.<br />
<br />
So, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to my sister. <br />
<br />
Johanna Craynon O'Hara (see how I snuck that Craynon in there really subtly?) is my oldest sister. I have 2 and I must say that it is awesome.<br />
In my mind my sister is still a Craynon. And always will be. YES I know she has been married for 5+ years. YES I realize she has 2 kids (and one one the way =) ), and that she will be an O'Hara longer than she was a Craynon. But I like to claim this relationship. I want to introduce her as a Craynon. I want people to know she is still mine. We don't really look much alike, so the name is a linking thing. I have no problem with her being married, I dont resent that, it seems normal. Maybe I should make her husband change his name to Craynon too, so that I can claim them both! <br />
<br />
Why do I want to claim them? Aside from the fact that my niece and nephew are some of the cutest kids, I have some real reasons too =).<br />
<br />
<br />
From as early as I can remember Johanna has been a constant and vigilant protector to all of her younger siblings, and now her kids. Although her "help" was sometimes counter productive (see the soap on the toothbrush incidents),and to my 4 year old self highly unwelcome, it was always because she thought it was what was best. Johanna was always the 2nd mom that we never knew we needed.<br />
The childhood desire to protect and guard us may have been a little excessive, since we did have a mom, and a very good one at that!(Don't worry, you will meet her soon!)No one needs to worry about falling over railings at the mall, or even plummeting into the Grand Canyon, as long as Johanna is there to remind you that there is an edge ;-). But more than being physically protective, I have seen her stand up for us "littler kids" in situations where she sought to protect us from emotional pain, even at cost to herself. <br />
<br />
For those of you who may be concerned that she uses soap on her own children's teeth, no worries, she grew out of that. And as she matured she learned to be a little more...discerning in what was best ;-). Now she willingly seeks advice, and council when she needs to decide what is best. She makes suggestions and gives advice. She prays, and submits to her husband. She seeks to honor him, and God in the way she cares for their children. <br />
Johanna is one of the most transparent people I know. Maybe thats because she is a Craynon, and we wear our emotions on our sleeves. I think that is only part of it though. God has blessed Johanna with a gift of words, and a humble heart that allows her to use her words to honestly express herself. Her blog <a href="http://worthdoinghalfway.wordpress.com/">http://worthdoinghalfway.wordpress.com/</a> is a wonderful example of this.(Shameless plug ;-))<br />
Now I am not insinuating that she is perfect or that we always got along. Like I said, we are sisters. But as I have grown older, I have a much greater appreciation for her wisdom. I have seen her walk through times of confusion, and times of real loss and pain, and I can honestly say I want to grow to be like her, as she grows to be like Jesus.<br />
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And, just for fun, here is a picture of all 3 of us girls. Sadly, as much as Johanna tried, she could not protect us from the 90's ;-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr7qXrp4wqhWBz74xhJWbbQufNQDLhP7nv0hX_FSRkbuut6Lp1aWtkgfgbXn7GQZDq9iruvYk7zjoye3pH1llxUT3IdZbj2jOtqP31qzC5qH97k9mLKm4XzxZsHHvbdeaLUbT73MJ5pM/s1600/3girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr7qXrp4wqhWBz74xhJWbbQufNQDLhP7nv0hX_FSRkbuut6Lp1aWtkgfgbXn7GQZDq9iruvYk7zjoye3pH1llxUT3IdZbj2jOtqP31qzC5qH97k9mLKm4XzxZsHHvbdeaLUbT73MJ5pM/s320/3girls.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-89451905479400225262012-03-01T19:29:00.001-08:002012-03-01T19:30:52.542-08:00Let your speech be full of grace, seasoned with saltYou better think before you act<br />
Can't rewind and take it back<br />
Pause before you speak<br />
Hold your tongue between your teeth<br />
Answer a fool and you're just the same<br />
Don't get caught up in playing his games.<br />
Wisdom can be silent<br />
So I've heard, should prolly try it<br />
Quick to speak and think that I know<br />
But with every word ignorance shows<br />
Listening ears and a listening heart<br />
Try to hear from God but then I start<br />
Musing and berating <br />
Constant speaking never waiting~ scc 1/4/12Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-57932720469561214612012-02-20T17:14:00.000-08:002012-02-20T17:14:24.479-08:00Border stateFried Cornbread and fried chicken<br />
As natural to me as rush hour traffic<br />
With frequent "y'all s"<br />
slipped into conversation.<br />
Give me sunset on the monuments <br />
Or coal laden mountains in the heart of our nation. <br />
Forests and shopping malls<br />
Framing the view, broadening my horizons.<br />
Home and safety can be found in city blocks<br />
Or a world where doors are never locked.<br />
A southerner to those who choose to define<br />
The difference in culture by the mason-Dixon line.<br />
Though I feel home when down south, my northern accent gets a laugh<br />
caught between two worlds<br />
But then again I'm half and half<br />
City, suburb, southerner<br />
Check all of the above<br />
Labels over generalize<br />
like a one size fits all glove<br />
So I will try to summarize<br />
The essence of my life <br />
Country, and city meeting: Suburbanized.<br />
I grew up with some of everything<br />
But people grow to more than the sum of everything<br />
--Colleen Craynon 2/13/12Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-49459910648002257122012-02-14T13:20:00.000-08:002012-02-14T13:20:32.740-08:00Valentines dayStrange to say, but I am happy to be single this Valentines Day.<br />
No, I don't hate guys, nor am I determined to be an old maid. I really do want to get married, and I'd rather not wait 15 years either. But this year, I know I am supposed to be single.<br />
How do I know? Well simply because I am single. I know that seems silly but hear me out. If I was living for my self, not following God, there is absolutely no reason I would stay single.<br />
But here I am. Your classic "loser" 21 years old, and staying home on Valentines Day. BUT I am so aware of Gods grace in that. He is writing my love story. He determines the who, what and yes the when. It is a struggle when the story doesn't start where I want it to, but if it did I would be missing out on something much better. So in a funny way, my current singleness is a reminder of God's grace in my life. He could have allowed me to pursue my desires, but he is keeping me. Saving me. He created me and destined me for a purpose. An awesome future waits for me, but an awesome now is here too! My future is secure in Christ, because I KNOW that he loves me. Even if I am single forever, or for 10 years, or even only 10 months, God has something beautiful planned for me. And yes, one day I hope to be that sickeningly sweet couple who make Valentines Day the silly, fun holiday that it is.<br />
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However I must say, these strawberries aren't hurting my contentment either ;-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkDLE27ftV3RyXA8EkrNRBEo0HmkXJ49yAyjVmauMCfBL0_Eb4uCcDVJ6iN96q0yIf_AvPgnUdNZJIscCCqGDNDa9LVpQaGqzd3kykiNN13uk1xpr9g2cVqKKkpr3x6ZU-x-tQijF8J4/s1600/DSC_0281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkDLE27ftV3RyXA8EkrNRBEo0HmkXJ49yAyjVmauMCfBL0_Eb4uCcDVJ6iN96q0yIf_AvPgnUdNZJIscCCqGDNDa9LVpQaGqzd3kykiNN13uk1xpr9g2cVqKKkpr3x6ZU-x-tQijF8J4/s320/DSC_0281.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-73426655604293938462012-02-10T19:20:00.000-08:002012-02-10T19:20:54.493-08:00Cast your anxieties on the Lord...Do you ever have this crazy nagging feeling inside that makes you want to write down anything and everything you think or feel? No? Oh.... Yeah me neither. That would be...weird. <br />
Actually yes. I do. Somehow I feel like giving form to the words will help. Sometimes it does. When I see my thoughts and emotions in black and white they are less overwhelming. They are confined to the space of the page, no longer eating up all of my mind. But as much as writing helps, I forget the real way to rid my mind of fears. Prayer. <br />
1 Peter 5:7 reminds us to cast our cares on the Lord. Because he CARES for us. Not simply because he is in control, or because he is the only one who is powerful enough to help. But because he cares. Wow. The one who has arranged the minute details of my life CARES when I feel alone. Cares when I am afraid and confused. And he listens, and carries me when my load is too heavy for me. Which is always. My endless supply of paper may help clear my mind, but ultimatly is powerless. Powerless to change my circumstance. Powerless to comfort me. Powerless to remove my anxieties. My God is powerful and loving. He bears my burdens and gives peace. If only I would take the time to humble myself to ask. To pray.<br />
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Prayer is the lisping of the believing infant, the shout of the fighting believer, the requiem of the dying saint falling asleep in Jesus. It is the breath, the watchword, the comfort, the strength, the honour of a Christian.<br />
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—C.H. SpurgeonColleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-82886981403042214922012-01-18T16:21:00.000-08:002012-01-18T16:21:01.502-08:00Say Hello to happiness!And probably a new workout plan. You can also count on kissing skinny jeans goodbye because...dun-dun-da-dun.... It's time to meet my new Christmas present!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MjHb3vc3KIWLtkPwwhZvIOn_gyK1Bem_E9N3Nh3N-enbZhrh1wfB9FuWqYCzWcNX6OXp3QkWJuYi6mhn20hdWz6XVU0qZY3TNcs1JF3E2SSXyCZGI5cJqk2AJ2iUgauZLhlw4wgShks/s1600/torch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MjHb3vc3KIWLtkPwwhZvIOn_gyK1Bem_E9N3Nh3N-enbZhrh1wfB9FuWqYCzWcNX6OXp3QkWJuYi6mhn20hdWz6XVU0qZY3TNcs1JF3E2SSXyCZGI5cJqk2AJ2iUgauZLhlw4wgShks/s320/torch.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Yes. My brother decided it was a good idea to let me play with fire!!!!<br />
This recipe makes 4, 6oz Crème Brulèe:<br />
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6 egg yolks<br />
1/4 cup granulated sugar <br />
1 1/2cup heavy whipping cream<br />
3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />
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6 teaspoons granulated sugar<br />
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preheat oven to 300 degrees<br />
in a bowl whisk together egg yolks and 1/4 sugar until the sugar is dissolved and mixture is thick. Add cream and vanilla, and whisk until blended.<br />
The recipe I used said to strain the mixture and skim off any bubbles, but I didn't have very many, so I skipped that step.<br />
Divide the mixture evenly into 4 6oz Ramekins, and place the ramekins in a pan. Pour water into the pan so that it covers the lower half of the ramekins.<br />
Bake for 50-55 minutes, until the custard has set on the edges, but is still loose in the center.<br />
Remove the pan from the oven and allow to cool. Move the Ramekins to the refrigerator and chill for at least 2 hours.<br />
place the ramekins back in the pan, and sprinkle 1 1/2 teaspoons of sugar on each.<br />
Then you EITHER broil no more than 5inches from the top of the oven, until the sugar melts, OR use your super fabulous, I can't believe I am allowed to play with fire, and I now feel like a real chef, torch. I am still working on the art of how one melts sugar evenly, without burning little spots on the top of your masterpieces, but I am sure my family won't mind me practicing!<br />
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AND voila!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JD4dc6Ye52flLFGCavC65YFz3V4P41BKg-a5gFqwJUCxuL2kZS3TnB9b7bPfMn3_nIoPcUp2BMNxIQQ_gF2DJ-AKnogr81ftyVmHo1DvD5t0GhcUqgjARY4-MNnDqc0p8jboR8XsGro/s1600/DSC_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JD4dc6Ye52flLFGCavC65YFz3V4P41BKg-a5gFqwJUCxuL2kZS3TnB9b7bPfMn3_nIoPcUp2BMNxIQQ_gF2DJ-AKnogr81ftyVmHo1DvD5t0GhcUqgjARY4-MNnDqc0p8jboR8XsGro/s320/DSC_0253.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I found that even after 2 1/2 hours in the fridge, they were not totally set, so next time I will let them set longer, especially since they are an easy make ahead dessert, and naturally Gluten Free =)<br />
This recipe is also Twice as Nice, because with the leftover egg whites you can make one of my other favorite desserts! Come back soon for the recipe for meringue cookies, light, easy and also Gluten Free!<br />
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What do you do with your left over egg whites?Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-55118085275719128542012-01-15T19:15:00.000-08:002012-01-15T16:23:07.552-08:00Pages Of Imperfection<div style="color: #741b47; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 21px;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="color: #741b47; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span></div><div style="color: #741b47; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">Wrote this a while ago for a class, it kind of explains my writing process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> Her head jerks up, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">a shimmer of a bubbling thought is growing inside her </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">mind.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> Hurriedly</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> she rushes through the remainder of the </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">task at hand and races</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> up the stairs</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> to her room.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">By now the thought is </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">growing steadily</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> gaining momentum</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> she flops down on her b</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">e</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">d, adjusts the pillows just so. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> She brushes back the hair from her face, tying it back out of her eyes,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> digs through the nightstand cubby looking for the polka dotted case containing her reading glasses.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">They</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> somehow make her feel like she knows what she is </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">doing, they give her a sense of clarity, and not just because the page is in sharper focus. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">Perhaps it is because </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">they make her seem</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> older,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> and</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> as though she is wiser, wiser than she truly is</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">There is, along with this sense of maturity a sense of urgency in her actions</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">, as if there were a deadline looming </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">though none exists.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">It is the frantic scramble of someone who has something on the inside that needs to get out</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">The </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">shimmering idea</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">, now fully grown bounces around in her head, fighting for all of her at</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">tention. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">I</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">t cries out to her, begging</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> to be set free; </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">to be given life and air and ink.</span></div><div style="color: #741b47; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> Her thoughts sometimes flow into rhymes or poems, or narratives on the lives of others(real or imagined), and perhaps on occasion words to a tune she’s been humming all week. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">She may express pain over the loss of a loved one, or the excitement felt about the birth of a niece, happiness, and regrets can be found in these pages, as well as feeble attempts to describe the incomprehensible joy of forgiveness of sins. “Yes,” she thinks “there is nothing, good nor bad, that doesn’t seem to be better when laid out in black and white.” </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">So, she settles down between her blue cased pillows, and gives her thoughts wing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> Quickly she grabs a thin yellow notebook from the top of a stack of identical </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">notebooks that</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> has slowly grown on her shelf over the years. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">She couldn’t say why yellow exactly, just something</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> about</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">them</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> drew her in, and made her want to write, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">to fill the empty lined pages with her thoughts. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">She flips through the filled pages, pages crinkled with the </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">tears of sorrow and loss, past fears of failure, and pages filled with the ecstasy of hope born again. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">She glances over a </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">sheet that she’s read a thousand times, the story so familiar it could have been real</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">The thought continues </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">it’s</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> nagging, urging her on till she finds a clean sheet. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">Gripping her black ball point pen she slowly forms her first careful word. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">The rush begin</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">s, and she scarcely knows what she is doing.</span></div><div style="color: #741b47; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> She writes on, perhaps a dozen lines, or a dozen pages the words slow, and eventually stop</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">The thought no longer vies for her whole attention, its goa</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">ding has stopped, and it simply lays there out in the open, vulnerable and </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">unsullied by the reality of </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">the technical </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">aspects of writing. She </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">lies</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> back on the pillows and sighs. </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">This is a </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">sigh</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> of relief and trepidation, for the words now safely out of her mind, are still restrained to the confines of the yellow not</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">e</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">book</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> From within the s</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">ticker clad covers each page still calls to her.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> Leaving her wishing to take them up once more, prune, refine, and</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> dare she hope perfect them.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">When she stops and thinks </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">she wonders why she lets them sit in this unfinished state, freed from her clu</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">ttered mind, yet disorganized all the same.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">When</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> she does find the time she views</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> with the harshest critics eye her </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">fledgling</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> ventures into the literary realm</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">Months</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">, even years</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> old works are </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">r</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">e-worded, re-written, re-written again. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">Fingers hurting, and daylight long gone she glances at her clock</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> and closes the notebook</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">She flicks off her light, and settles in with dream</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">s of a day when she can </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 130%;">truly feel that it is completed. </span></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-24143189022079081402012-01-03T13:09:00.000-08:002012-06-09T07:16:31.105-07:00lossMost people have felt the sharp sting of loss. In many cases it's sudden, abrupt, and the pain cuts through you, numbing you to all other feelings. I have felt it time and time again. It is the worst thing in the world to lose someone you love. At age 14 I would have sworn I needed time to prepare, to say goodbye, and then it would be OK. To know it was my last time seeing that person. To get a chance to hold their hand. To say I'd see them again. To be fully aware when it was time to let them go.<br />
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Today? I can honestly say it makes no difference. The knife still stabs through your heart. But instead of a happy memory of the last time you saw them, you have the days of wondering if this would be it. The years of not knowing if they'd make it to the next holiday. The dull ache of watching their memory fade and shatter. Sometimes you feel your heart is being slowly dulled to caring, but a slight glimmer of recognition, or a smile at the face of a great-grandchild is enough to remind you that you still care.<br />
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For my whole childhood my grandparents lived less than a block from my house, and 6 years ago we moved so that my aging grandmother could live with us. I got a first hand look at the slow and steady progression of aging and dementia. And this summer, she peacefully passed away. It was not sudden. No shocking news, simply the end of a life well lived. 85 years, yet it still seems too short.<br />
I never thought that I would miss the hard things, having to help her with simple tasks, but I would gladly do it all over to have my grandmother back. She was a wonderful woman, the most generous lady I have ever met. Her gentle spirit comforted and nurtured us. Her love of flowers, books, sweets, and stuffed animals made a trip to Mamma's house any child's dream.<br />
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Not sure why I felt like writing this today. Some days it just hits you I guess. The reality that they are gone. That you have to wait for heaven to see them again. That they won't be at your college graduation, or your wedding. Never hold your children. All of my grandparents were amazing people. And I miss them all at different times. Its the memories that get me most often.<br />
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And then I realize that I have so many wonderful memories. To miss someone you have to know them. To lose something, it had to be yours to start. And they were mine. Wonderful, fun, loving, and memorable. But only mine on loan. Placed in life as grace, not something I deserved, not something I "ought" to get back, but a gift, a blessing. And I am so so blessed to have had them in my life. But I must say, I am looking forward to Heaven, where I won't have to miss them anymore.Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-51758295765650765822011-11-18T21:53:00.000-08:002011-11-18T21:53:51.679-08:00Closed for Remodeling<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">Restaurants and stores so often use this phrase as a front for their real reasons for closing. Perhaps it was money problems, and they couldn't re-up their lease. Or possibly there was corruption, or an *ahem* pest problem. Or maybe things were truly just broken down. Faded, worn out and in need of refreshing. </span><br style="background-color: #e7e7e7; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: #e7e7e7; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">You may be wondering what on EARTH this has to do with ANYTHING in your life. Well, I have a confession to make. It may not. But it has to do with my life. A lot actually. You see sometimes I want to be "closed" to remodel. When I see sin or failure in my life I want to curl into a ball, and ignore everyone. I want to hide my sin, and keep everyone out until I get it "fixed" </span></span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d;">But consider for a moment my construction metaphor. In many cases "remodeling" is an attempt to save face, a matter of pride. Red flag number one on my attitude. </span></div><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d;">And even though I admit that I need change, refreshing, and an "upgrade", if I let no one in, who is doing the work? ME. Flag number 2. </span></div><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d;">First of all, I am called to live in community, so I can't simply withdraw from interacting until I get it figured out. Did I just say until <i>I get it figured out? </i> Yes, that's how I think. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d;">I want the credit, I want to be the one who remembered to read my Bible, or the one who was MORE maturity, the girl who has it together. I want the "safety" of not confessing my sin.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">This thinking is subtle, and seeps into my head without me noticing. It starts well enough, with a desire to change and grow and before long I have a legalistic set of rules I made myself. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">If I have to fix myself, then conviction of sin becomes even more painful than it already is. It is a constant reminder not only of how I have already failed, but how I will fail again, because despite my vain attempts I know that I can't do it. Because of the sting of conviction which scripture brings, I withdraw from truly reading. But reading just for the sake of "keeping up </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">appearances</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">" lacks </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">consistency and quickly loses its motivation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">And if I could just read enough, or just not get mad at my siblings, or always respect my parents or just... "earn" my salvation. Lets not sugar coat this. That is exactly what I want to do. I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">hope to become a "new creation" like God promised. Just without God. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">I have struggled with this mentality for years, and some how in the middle of writing papers and trying to combat my fear of not earning the grades I want I was convicted that I am sliding into it again. I want to do it all. School, work, church, Christianity, friends, family. I want to do it, and perfectly and on my own too if possible. But it isn't. Not even close. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">Somehow the awareness of my inevitable failure at earning Gods favor is the most relieving letdown ever. A beautiful paradox. But my inability does not mean I will be like this forever, the same immature person forever. I will constantly be changing. Or should I say <i>being changed</i>. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f9fdff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Phillipians 1:6 "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."</span></div><div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">So as of tonight I will fight to be OPEN for remodeling. Join me?</span></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-8193084802686122212011-09-16T07:49:00.001-07:002011-09-16T07:52:52.575-07:00AutumnToday is the first rosy cheeked day of fall. You know what I mean. Crisp cool air has finally broken through the muggy Maryland summer. Campus is a funny mix of outfits. Those who are trying desperately to cling to summer are shivering while they scuttle from one building to the next. Then there are the over-reactors. Bundled from head to toe as if snow was in the forecast. Fur lined boots, and knitted scarves are a personal favorite too, but their time will come a little later. <br />
The third group, the one I am proud to belong to, are the "natives" although most come from colder places then Maryland. We recognize and welcome the arrival of autumn. Hoodies and jeans are the outfits of choice. But one thing is the same for all three groups: all arrive to class with pink cheeks. The brisk air bringing out a nice healthy color. <br />
These are the days I love. Soups for dinner. I start my lookout for changing leaves. Stores stock their shelves with candy corn, pumpkin pie and crazy costumes. <br />
Soon I will make my first gluten free pie, apple of course. Then I will know for sure that Fall is here! Sure, the calendar says we still have a whole week, but i know better. This is the beginning. The sign that just as it has every year, Summer fades to Fall. And just as I always await the arrival of Summer and it's lazy hazy days at the beach, I wait fir this. I look for signs of weather changes the instant school books arrive on my doorstep. <br />
It just feels right to have cool weather for school. Mythology, morphology and mathematics are all more poetic when studied in a cozy chair with hot apple cider. Or under a fleece blanket. <br />
As I write this I am reveling in the sweet cool air. Looking across campus. Enjoying the solitude of a picnic table nestled between two trees, still clothed in Summer splendor. The warm sun on my face when the breezes still. This is bliss. Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-11770151375026498242011-06-18T10:30:00.000-07:002011-06-18T10:30:00.639-07:00New Post....New job, new challenges, new achievements, new summer, new friends, new blessings, new struggles,new experiences, new encouragement, new conviction, new joys, new frustrations and new complcations.<br />
Same God. I need that reminder. <br />
<br />
2 Timothy 2:11-13<br />
Here is a trustworthy saying: <br />
If we died with him, <br />
we will also live with him; <br />
if we endure, <br />
we will also reign with him. <br />
If we disown him, <br />
he will also disown us; <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b> if we are faithless, <br />
he remains faithful, <br />
for he cannot disown himself. </b></span><br />
<br />
Exodus 34:6-7<br />
The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, "The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger,<span style="font-size: small;"> a<b>nd abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,</b> <b>keeping steadfast love for thousands</b></span>, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation." <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Psalm 77:4-13<br />
You hold my eyelids open;<br />
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.<br />
I consider the days of old,<br />
the years long ago.<br />
I said, "Let me remember my song in the night;<br />
let me meditate in my heart."<br />
Then my spirit made a diligent search:<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">"</span><span style="font-size: small;">Will the Lord spurn forever,<br />
and never again be favorable?<br />
Has his steadfast love forever ceased? </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Are his promises at an end for all time?<br />
Has God forgotten to be gracious?<br />
Has he in anger shut up his compassion?" </span></b><br />
<i>Selah</i><br />
Then I said, "I will appeal to this,<br />
to the years of the right hand of the Most High."<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I will remember the deeds of the LORD;<br />
yes, I will remember your wonders of old.<br />
I will ponder all your work,<br />
and meditate on your mighty deeds.<br />
Your way, O God, is holy.<br />
What god is great like our God?</span></b>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-90330450911548307712011-06-17T10:28:00.000-07:002011-06-17T10:28:29.931-07:00Writers Block<div style="color: #741b47;">I kept trying to write a new post. Half formulated thoughts would motivate me to start a post, but after half a dozen attempts I decided that this writing assignment from a class a couple years ago might be the best fit ;-)<br />
<br />
<br />
Writers Block? Funny you should mention IT. As a matter of fact I know IT well, too well. If I am with a paper and pen, or sitting at my laptop, fingers over the keys you can be sure that IT will soon appear. IT is small at first, roughly the size of a Chinese take-out box. However in the space of a moment IT expands. IT makes the room seem smaller, crowding out all thoughts, making you feel like your socks are too tight.</div><div style="color: #741b47;">IT gives you a sick feeling in your stomach, how it feels before parachuting. IT looks over at you, lamenting your feeble attempts, pointing a blue finger at you. Yes, blue. If you look you'll notice that IT is blue, the blue that is almost black, somehow sadder than black, faded a tint, like socks that have been washed too often. Never uttering a sound, yet ITs large eyes stare so intently that you swear the criticism is audible. IT seems to be saying "You can't ! No matter how hard you try you can't!" Yet IT remains dark, and silent. “NO!” I cry but ITs oppressive nearness stifles my pleas.</div><div style="color: #741b47;">IT tries to force me to stop writing. Begs me to abandon my pen. To fall ill with that mysteriously odious malady: to let myself be blocked. IT chokes out the light in the room, causing the page to fall dark. ITs incredible hugeness and weight press in around me, and I can scarcely breathe. ITs scent fills my nose. The smell of dirt. Not garden dirt, not the smell of dirt after a rain, or when it has been freshly dug. No, IT has the smell of dirty dirt. Like the corner of the basement that never gets swept or soccer cleats covered in mud from Saturdays game. The game where you got creamed, with a hundred plays that could have gone better. IT smells of staleness, of failure. And suddenly all words are gone. The cursor blinks. The page stays blank. My beautiful dreams for how it should turn out lay untouched, locked in my head, kept there by the pressure from IT.</div><div style="color: #741b47;">As I write this now ITs blueness and cold dank smell are creeping up. But I am faster than IT. At least this time I am . I scribble down words as fast as I can. IT is leaving now, IT knows I am in control. I can’t give in. If I do its mocking look will be joined by looks from the page in front of me, begging to be written on. Truly the only way to make IT leave is to ignore IT. To fervently put words on the page. Any words. IT tries to gain control again, telling me that my words are far from being the best IT has read. Far from the best I have written. They aren’t just exactly how I meant them to be. Upon finding me in total agreement however IT slowly starts to shrink. I keep typing, keep streaming second rate words from head to hand. IT is small now, and with a final key stroke I send it scurrying off to afflict another. But never fear, I'll meet with IT again. My tormentor, oppressor, my motivator.</div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-38253679042989573292011-06-06T21:17:00.000-07:002011-06-07T12:08:06.990-07:00heart break generation<div style="background-color: purple;"><span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: purple;">We are the heart break generation.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"> </span>In and out of love faster than you can shake a stick. Constantly bombarded with the need for "love" but unable to access love, or a working relationship, because many have never seen it.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;">Or because we are simply too young to be trying. Younger and younger we search for fulfillment in relationships, drugs, sex and alcohol. Now maybe this is nothing new, but to me it is heartbreaking.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;">Over 25% of my "contemporaries" were never born. Never given a chance to experience love. My heart breaks. I understand that God is in control, and that He has a divine plan of redemption. But my heart is still breaking...over and over.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: purple;">From the little boy I work with who can't do well in school, simply because he is starting out behind. Or the countless girls who believe that their value lies in their appearance and whether or not they have a boyfriend. I sit in my classes and here again and again the hurt and depression that surrounds these people. I work with people with deeply painful pasts. Multiple marriages, rehab, and even current alcoholism.They seek joy every weekend with temporary highs of drunken partying, and one night stands. "The best night of my life, but don;t remember half of it" is a common theme. Sorority's and fraternities aren't the issue. The problem isn't sex ed programs, or bars that don't ID. The problem is sin. SIN. We live in a world broken beyond understanding. But not beyond repair. GOD will make all things new. He changes hearts. He washes pure the most promiscuous of sinners, he cleans up the foulest of mouths. He restores broken relationships and heals broken hearts. Even mine as it breaks daily for my generation.</div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-39223333838322290862011-03-06T14:30:00.000-08:002011-03-06T14:31:59.299-08:00Simply put, God is amazing.<div style="color: purple;">I could leave it at that, and the statement would be just as true, and just as relevent, but I think that there is more to say. Not that it can ever all be said. But what is it that prompts this revelation? It's Sunday, so perhaps a wonderful teaching? I was teaching Sunday school, and had to miss second service to work on a paper, that at the moment only needs 200 more words, and the helpful editing of my wonderful mother(yes i am a suck up ;-) ), so I didn't get to hear the sermon. It wasn't a long and meaningful quiet time, another thing that got cut because of the paper, and my general forgetfulness. It was really just something simple. Something that many people might not even notice, or if they did they would label it as odd. But it was a really good reminder for me.</div><div style="color: purple;">I have been sitting here in Panera, for going on 6 hours working on school. At about 4 a father and his teenage son came in and set up to do school and work. There was nothing about their appearance that made me pay any attention to them, but they talked to each other so nicely that it was a neat change from the endless groups of curt professionals that have filled and emptied the seats around me a half dozen times today. I smiled to myself at their relationship and moved on. About 10 minutes later I hear someone talking near me, I look over, and the boy was praying. In public. Out loud. A teenager. And he was praying alone, not because his dad told him to. I was impressed. He was praying not before he started to eat, but before he started school. Hmm...maybe I should have tried that ;-) </div><div style="color: purple;">Thanks for the reminder God , and thank you that you work in the hearts of college students, even through total strangers!</div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-21794979418606324262011-02-26T21:29:00.000-08:002011-02-26T21:29:38.998-08:00blessings<div style="color: #990000;"> I take things for granted.WAY too much. </div><div style="color: #990000;">Like being able to fall asleep right when I want to. </div><div style="color: #990000;">Or at least shortly after I go to bed. I am not saying I have become an insomniac. But the past couple weeks I have had a harder time falling asleep. Whether this has been due to guests staying in my room with me (who I enjoyed having), or too much on the brain, or in tonight's case, one White Chocolate Mocha, almost 9 hours ago. </div><div style="color: #990000;"> And when I am tested I am sad to say that my responses are not of "pure joy" when it is ME "facing trials of many{albeit minute and short lived} kinds." No, instead of thinking how blessed I am to be ALIVE, I complain about my poor blistered feet. I forget to thank God for the beauty of HIS creation, and I mope because it is cold outside, when<i> I </i>am ready for spring. Rather than looking to God for His "ever present help in time of need", I whine about my course load, and the amount of studying I need to do, for the tests I don't want to take. And now, it is not nearly enough for me to have a beautiful home, and a comfortable bed, but I need to be able to sleep when I , Colleen, decide it is time. This is the battle that was going on in my head, well not much of a battle really, since it's pretty obvious what mind set was conquering.</div><div style="color: #990000;">But then a verse I have been trying to memorize came to mind.</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Psalm 3:5</div><div style="color: #990000;"> "I lie down and sleep;</div><div style="color: #990000;"> I wake again because the LORD sustains me."</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;">Isn't our God incredible? I'd like to say that it never ceases to amaze me, but sometimes it does. Sometimes I am not amazed. Sometimes I forget that God holds EVERYTHING together. The planet, the universe, and yes, even me. </div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;">Thank you Lord, for sustaining me. Thank you for making me. for not punishing me in my ungratefulness, and pride. I get tired of fighting the same struggles against complaining, against my sin. I get frustrated, and quit trying. But when I am faithless to fight, when I am lazy, exhausted, in pain, and just plain sinful, You are faithful, working, renewing, forgiving, and HOLY. And you CALLED <i>me</i>! You LOVE me, and despite all my sin, my continued rebellion against You , You have promised to keep me from stumbling (see the book of Jude). Wow. </div><div style="color: #990000;">Thank you.</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-43205746248145590092011-02-21T09:13:00.000-08:002011-02-21T09:13:11.686-08:00Megan Janelle<div style="color: #20124d;">So as you may or may not know, today is my VERY good friend Megan's birthday. =D =D =D =D</div><div style="color: #20124d;">YES! Break out the balloons and streamers!!!!!!! This is a beautiful day to partayyyyy.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">What's that? You don't get it? Oh! You're wondering why I am sooooo excited if it's not MY birthday? Because it's Megan's birthday. Hmm...I guess maybe there are a few things you should know about her,so that you can celebrate as much as me.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">1.)She is funny. I know very few people who can make me laugh as easily.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">Job 8:21 He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. </div><div style="color: #20124d;">2.)She LOVEs her family. Even when it is hard (you won't see me signing up to live with 10 people). She respects her parent's, and honors them by seeking their counsel.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">Exodus 20:12 "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you"</div><div style="color: #20124d;">3.) Megan cuts hair. (shameless advertising for my talented friend)</div><div style="color: #20124d;">sorry no verse for this one ;-) </div><div style="color: #20124d;">4.)Megan doesn't sit around waiting for God to wave a magic wand and make things easier for her, she realizes that she is called to FIGHT, whether it's a fight for joy, a fight for contentment, or just a fight to get out of bed on one of her very early mornings, she makes it her goal to glorify God in the way she is proactively proclaiming the gospel to herself.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">2Corinthians 10:3-5 "For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." </div><div style="color: #20124d;">5.) Thank you Megan for the countless texts offering or asking for prayer, sharing encouraging verses, or even pointing out the beauty in the sun rising over the Potomac.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">I know it's not easy for you, but you don't quit.</div><div style="color: #20124d;">6.)Megan is an amazing photographer. Now you know who to call for a fabulous hair cut, and some new portraits =0)(more advertising, and again no verse, just a link )<a href="http://meganjanellephotography.blogspot.com/">http://meganjanellephotography.blogspot.com/, </a></div><div style="color: #20124d;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #20124d;">7.)Megan has red hair. (maybe a weird reason to celebrate, but hey ;-) )</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #20124d; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2aDj74-_yZQcPriN96jvEjb7hKvkbcCmMuVlXKakJOOnFlzUnATl-3atySm6qpOOpMHvC1H5F-J3EjgjEALZSsIhYU-R-HYyM5WUPoK_LED-UKmZm5wqHyAYFAapSQSFxRReEsjkAVs/s640/DSC_0825_edited-3.jpg" width="640" /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #20124d; text-align: left;">8.) stuffed crust pizza. need I say more?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Happy Birthday Megan, I love you so much! I hope your day is full of laughter, fun, and an awareness of God's grace on your life for the last 20 years. I look forward to the next 20 years, before we are "over the hill" </span></div>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6426527419507017303.post-23987932374414784082011-02-17T12:25:00.000-08:002011-02-17T12:25:45.013-08:00Dream a little (day )dream of ...<div style="color: #741b47;">...SPRING! </div><div style="color: #741b47;">Spring is on the way! yes, I do realize that this is only February, but on a day like today it feels more like May. All thoughts of winter are relegated to the back of my mind, much like the few trace piles of slushy snow remaining in the shadows on campus. My winter paleness try's to convince me to soak up the much missed sun, but the Irish in me says it won't do any good, and getting a sunburn in February is a *little* bit ridiculous. So I stick to the deliciously breezy shade, and hope for the best. The weather makes me want to read the Shakespeare that isn't due until Monday, instead of studying for the more immediate test I have to take. Makes me think about applying for summer jobs, and reminds me of all the wonderful things I want to cook. Fresh salsa, Kabobs on the grill, this summer I swear I will try my hand at fresh gazpacho, and sorbet, and a million other things I want so much to cook. I am trying really hard to reign myself in from all my wild day dreams. I feel like I could sit down and write a whole book about anything I wanted, creativity can't sleep on a day like today. Well, I could write about ALMOST anything...but not quite...Geology? No, not so much. So adieu my friends. I must away to study for the impending test. Until the morrow.(or whenever I get the chance)</div><div style="color: #741b47;">For now enjoy this song </div><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_070zWcEuk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_070zWcEuk</a>Colleen Ethertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06517406327245961311noreply@blogger.com0