tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34002857986324007722024-03-05T13:03:55.908-08:00Worthy Words PressUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-45768559052965822592023-02-25T08:27:00.004-08:002023-02-25T08:49:14.395-08:00Growing in God<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK0VCaCrH0m97TcIlpCo88U0qu-bmizk90sovk_zfSSAmeCQciFX6CyaZrDQLG0d2MgVIjtR7-x-QzYQ0IW8DaZL4H3e2msAXtEmzeBdJFCpRpPBsO7dhDHf6tZs-y_NLfci_U4Q5YirBiSQ6FSj5hqcgQyBYfAyrzjLmVts9bpAWpQYPYF_uP3Oy/s1262/IMG_5908.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="1122" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK0VCaCrH0m97TcIlpCo88U0qu-bmizk90sovk_zfSSAmeCQciFX6CyaZrDQLG0d2MgVIjtR7-x-QzYQ0IW8DaZL4H3e2msAXtEmzeBdJFCpRpPBsO7dhDHf6tZs-y_NLfci_U4Q5YirBiSQ6FSj5hqcgQyBYfAyrzjLmVts9bpAWpQYPYF_uP3Oy/w359-h403/IMG_5908.JPG" width="359" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">First Touch Down Bolivia February 14, 1981</span></i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Growing in God</span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Psalm 27:13, 14 (NIV)<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p><div><b><i><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;">Oh, the blessings I have seen while walking this journey. The One Who guides me never fails. Yes, Jesus never fails. I minister joyfully to those we came to share the gospel with––from that first day in Bolivia, Valentine’s Day 1981, to now. Classes are wonderful––little ones and older ones learning about God.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times;">Want a personal senior citizen story? Here in Bolivia it would be called a "<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><span style="font-family: Times;"><span><b><i>tercera edad" story.</i></b></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;">Last week, I went for my yearly checkup. I took the elevator as I left the second floor. I always walk the steps, but due to my accident-prone life I convinced myself to take the elevator. The elevator was dark, and the lights weren’t lit for the floor buttons––my vision is 20/20. As I struggled to see in the dark, a nurse came by. She asked if I needed help. I said please and thank you. She answered, “de nada, Mamita”. Oh, my! Mamita is an endearing word for senior citizen ladies—you know, <i>older ladies</i>. Well, that hit me in the gut. I should add it is also used regularly for ladies not so old. That makes me feel better, but I know who I am. Mamita—the endearing older lady word for me. I just don’t see myself with that title—except in the mirror. Ha! Serving in old age with white hair. (Isaiah 46:4) Can’t help but laugh here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;">I rarely buy clothes here in Bolivia—too tall, and never buy shoes here—feet too big, never in my size. Time for a new look? I set off to find a “cute older ladies’ sporty outfit. And I did that after seeing a cute “older” lady in the grocery store wearing a sweet, classy jogging suit—skinny legs and all. I decided I could wear that too. I found one, and the legs are long enough. So next week, on grocery day, I will be the cute older lady in the grocery store—if I muster up the courage to wear those skinny pants. It’s more of an exercise suit (pink too) which helps me change my older lady look. And I found the outfit in the grocery store––ironic, isn’t it? Thought you might like a personal “old lady” story. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Times;">*<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times;">Looking to improve not only an outward look but inside look too. Both are important as we walk this journey of life in the living.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;">Oh, God's sense of humor is so healing and comforting. And how comforting is that song, <i>Someone is Praying for You.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span>I wait to see God's will for me unfold each day.</span><span> Content in every circumstance––some days not easy, but there is peace that passeth understanding that comforts me. I am not alone. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span><b>Note:</b> The precious </span><span>little</span><span><span> ones and teens I teach aren't the only ones growing in God. I am too. </span><b><i>I see God's goodness in the land of the living––even in my </i><span><i>tercera </i></span><i>edad.</i></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span><b></b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"><span><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsVou2cwADUeYmd5oW_kCpx2At4_ojEmKp9qDSo-KvRxlsfkmwjZ2iBiHsOlYwbYds5KdFwWIJbzoo9WDEnHUzsmBmqIh7TfWzr-3qg3N3Nh8pD3hhsBVtsy587LUKxeLAnrHzGu_cR6urslYo4n5YGHWyRpvC33SRUcEaBd16O_5Rf8kY-BfwWFH/s4032/IMG_8375%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsVou2cwADUeYmd5oW_kCpx2At4_ojEmKp9qDSo-KvRxlsfkmwjZ2iBiHsOlYwbYds5KdFwWIJbzoo9WDEnHUzsmBmqIh7TfWzr-3qg3N3Nh8pD3hhsBVtsy587LUKxeLAnrHzGu_cR6urslYo4n5YGHWyRpvC33SRUcEaBd16O_5Rf8kY-BfwWFH/s320/IMG_8375%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></b></span></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-87714268728700149952022-09-13T05:15:00.001-07:002022-10-08T11:20:31.919-07:00Old Seasons ~ New Seasons<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_y2eYcaECorif6KWC9Q_Dcveo94xtzvRdLnm0LS54YSvdiIBu17mYfhRC8E8n-1jCCH3tpLJgc67RynwCZSQqJt8ebFo58ZCJYLebQQ7KgahIs9Sdg4ycrveykfn3VZ5S9oaYp36wtlq3aDkIK3qjsRBpVlO1oaKGFvI4LuADKxX13jbvkTgH9pm/s4032/IMG_7839.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_y2eYcaECorif6KWC9Q_Dcveo94xtzvRdLnm0LS54YSvdiIBu17mYfhRC8E8n-1jCCH3tpLJgc67RynwCZSQqJt8ebFo58ZCJYLebQQ7KgahIs9Sdg4ycrveykfn3VZ5S9oaYp36wtlq3aDkIK3qjsRBpVlO1oaKGFvI4LuADKxX13jbvkTgH9pm/w324-h431/IMG_7839.jpeg" width="324" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b><i>Old Seasons and New Seasons</i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:" (Ecclesiastes 3:1a NIV)</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b><br /></b></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">First paragraph is an excerpt from an old blog a few years back...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">'Some of my "angel cookies" (aka my teen students) sprouted their wings and flew on to the next phase of their lives. It was time to go, but soon, it will be time for me to guide a new group in God's ways––new classes with new "angel cookies" will start soon."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>Now to the present day</b></i>. I'm looking forward to storing up eternal treasures this new season of classes. If you missed this blog, you can read it here... just look for the post titled <b><i>"Cookies that Don't Rust."</i><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b> </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>I am now in a new season</b> of classes. First, I must tell you what happened a few weeks ago. I was beginning new classes. Almost before every new season of classes, I have had something happen to me--an accident, sickness or something that delayed classes. This year is no exception. We are in a battle, the enemy lurks.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>Last week, </b>we were running from one thing to another in town and had to wait until after the lunch hour to complete all we needed to do. We ate a hamburger and continued on our way to our destinations. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>The next day</b>, I got sick and had to be in the clinic for two days because of dehydration. Diagnosis was wrong (they first said Typhoid), but I only had a stomach infection, probably because of the hamburger. It was the first time I had eaten anything outside the house since the pandemic. We get little stomach bugs from time to time here, but because my system was so pure, this bug got the best of me. It is dead now!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>Yes, a whopping antibiotic treatment</b> and IV replacement of fluids, and in one day's time, I was much better. I’m recovering my strength and thank God for healing through it all. No Covid, and nothing serious as first thought by the doctors. So, I am rejoicing that God heals, protects, and takes care of His own. I’ve been through many “firsts” this past year. And now, I have “sicknesses” under my belt and saw God take care of me in wonderful ways to get me back to 100%. He is always with me. He heals! I’m never alone!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>But now, I am slowing my pace a bit,</b> learning to rest. I had no choice for a few days. I am reminded God knows we need to rest, He even gave us a day to come apart. During the week I am constantly busy, so I catch up on my other responsibilities on the weekends. But now, I’m trying to actually rest on Sundays. Yes, I always think I am doing that, but somehow, I have a need to be busy. Still learning in old age with grey hair, to spend more time with the Lord. Resting in His presence brings strength. “Come unto me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28 NIV). Sweet rest!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">“In quietness and trust shall be your strength” (Isaiah 39: 15b).</span></i></b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> A time to rest…Yes! We all need it in this stressful world we live in today. Thankful for the peace God gives us in Him. Thankful for you!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> PS No more hamburgers except at home. Promise! PS Jasmine plant a gift from my <o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">ministry workers!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-57910861285249850082022-08-20T17:30:00.003-07:002022-08-21T06:21:22.386-07:00Back in the Saddle Again<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3Z072ushDd1oBsWZvafw25ecjlTu6jzihjUj7peDWg1TlO85xOZ0UUQJ7JHCIud98PxAnELgRo4imi7ahET7-qXMrVROf-7EoO4COmVUOSGzaJLCMmwofxJf1OvS6nk7WbBsmBD8mbPKIBeI6YErR7NS1k-TWruPqKyZfsHFfg5LMtrwfAgzV-Is/s2538/IMG_7905.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="2538" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3Z072ushDd1oBsWZvafw25ecjlTu6jzihjUj7peDWg1TlO85xOZ0UUQJ7JHCIud98PxAnELgRo4imi7ahET7-qXMrVROf-7EoO4COmVUOSGzaJLCMmwofxJf1OvS6nk7WbBsmBD8mbPKIBeI6YErR7NS1k-TWruPqKyZfsHFfg5LMtrwfAgzV-Is/w358-h343/IMG_7905.jpeg" width="358" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;">"If you make the most High your dwelling––even the Lord, who is my refuge––then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways, they will lift you up in their hands..." (Psalms 91:9-12 NIV).</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></i></b></div><p></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><strong style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Over a year of sitting idle,</strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> this old girl--the quad in the photo, not me--came to life this week. In 1999, I sat listening to Chuck's vision of Rumi Rancho as he presented it to one of our supporting churches. I have to admit, I slipped down a bit in my seat when he told the congregation that we needed a quad, and he knew God would provide it. Faith! Not mine, but his. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </span></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><strong style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The next day,</strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> we were shopping, and he received a cell phone call. He couldn't hear well--cells were new to us then. All he heard was someone on the other end of the call had a quad for us. It was blue, was that okay? Smile. And it was four-wheel drive. It was the husband of the wife who heard of our need in church the night before and told her husband. I still thank God for them when I look at that quad.</span></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </span></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><strong style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">That was 23 years ago. </strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">This precious gift</span><strong style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">has had repairs and new tires over the years but has always been a faithful worker in the ministry here. What a blessing! God supplied as He always has and still does for me. Miracles––we have received many. Am I growing in my faith? I hope so. And do I still fight fear of the uncertain? Yes. But, I can be certain God is in control of it all. God is my strength, and He is teaching me as I go. "Do not fear; I am with you." My strength. My hope. My God.</span></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </span></p><p style="color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: start;"><strong style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">When I heard that quad roar</strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">, I felt it in the pit of my stomach and cried. But, it is a sign of life and ministry here on the property. It has helped many, and it has helped this work of the Lord daily and does still. I felt those angels hold me that day and every day. The Lord is my refuge and strength daily. Prayers also lift me. I have stories to tell––many stories to tell of God's goodness and faithfulness to me daily. My tent is safe!</span></p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></i></b></div><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #606d78; font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-21322727925594676582022-07-22T07:21:00.001-07:002022-07-22T07:23:21.379-07:00Encouragement from Afar<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8khzg2ywYx-E27NreOvYheBlTJSTUo9AE0Bw49pEfWczg_HsKQD89ioP6di-yXgswgilsmkk4PfkYESjKANBDyyRZiUVo5ZarWbo7rXF-p5F2jb4lGcwPkDeMjHSLUI-LLIhrXVypql1fbgTqFY3vZq-rfvasu4CZeNepVsJEEq8pMtiTUTmvQ2U/s400/DSC01325%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="400" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8khzg2ywYx-E27NreOvYheBlTJSTUo9AE0Bw49pEfWczg_HsKQD89ioP6di-yXgswgilsmkk4PfkYESjKANBDyyRZiUVo5ZarWbo7rXF-p5F2jb4lGcwPkDeMjHSLUI-LLIhrXVypql1fbgTqFY3vZq-rfvasu4CZeNepVsJEEq8pMtiTUTmvQ2U/s320/DSC01325%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Proverbs 25:25 “Like cold water to a weary soul i</span></span></i></b><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">s good news </span></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Times;">from a distant land.”</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;"><i>This week, I received a message from someone who encouraged me to keep on to the task God has for me. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;">The following is from a special someone we ministered to as a child––and now as an adult. </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;">This story is one of those special blessings that happened to me this week.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">The Bible says there is a time for everything. I am carrying on and doing the tasks before me each day. I see ministry unfold each day. And, this past week, God encouraged my weary soul that my labor is not in vain.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">I received a message from Spain. <b>Yes, Spain</b>! It was from Peggycita—named after me when she was born here in our village 30 years ago. She is the daughter of our ministry worker, Guichi. She is now in Spain working and studying and ministering in a church as the media person and teaching teens. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">As you can imagine, I reflect on the ministry Chuck and I did together for so long here in Bolivia. I thank God for allowing us the privilege of being in His work for so many years, and now just me. Was it, and is it worth it? Let me quote Peggycita’s words for you—I’ll translate Spanish to English for you. Smile. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">*Note: Guichi’s children have always called us Abuelita and Abuelito––Grandma and Grandpa. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Let me quote her words:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">“Grandma, I am so happy to hear you are still teaching classes. Keep going because many will be blessed through them, as I was blessed for my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Grandma, I now understand what the Bible says in Proverbs 22:6 (train up a child) because one day you and Grandpa planted a seed in my life. And, now that I am older, I understand it all. For that and much more, I will always be thankful to God for your lives. For that, I encourage you to keep teaching classes because I know the seed that one day you both planted in me, you also will plant in others.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">I am so happy you are continuing to teach classes. I love you very much, Peggy--your namesake!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">I am humbled by these words from this sweet child of God.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">I hope this encourages you that YOUR work isn't in vain for the Lord. I know it encouraged me to keep on keeping on in God’s work until He comes for us or takes us home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-83163547300014549982020-04-06T10:06:00.000-07:002020-04-06T12:36:42.900-07:00Cookbook Comfort<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauezmCBTTLl_jfXLUTZG8dDah1QhxWhLkImBRlqJ8aP_SqcadtEIZFNTI9rci_HF6jzRbEJR5GWC2oHHmLi3Ej5XimwvjGOcup0njRia6wPa0Quv9J2Zl6CtYbZRL8PjD0S_LLEjYV0U/s1600/IMG_6293.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauezmCBTTLl_jfXLUTZG8dDah1QhxWhLkImBRlqJ8aP_SqcadtEIZFNTI9rci_HF6jzRbEJR5GWC2oHHmLi3Ej5XimwvjGOcup0njRia6wPa0Quv9J2Zl6CtYbZRL8PjD0S_LLEjYV0U/s640/IMG_6293.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><i>"...for your Father knows what you need before you ask him" (Matthew 6:8 NIV).</i></b></div>
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Looking through cookbooks is always like being on vacation for me. I also like to watch exercise videos. Sometimes that's as far as it goes––looking and watching. Smile. We all need to cook or have someone cook for us. Neither can we live without moving––a form of exercising without realizing we are exercising daily. Moving––that's the kind of exercise I like––walking, bending, scrubbing floors, and washing windows. But, one Sunday in church, I learned a different type of exercise––a life-changing exercise.<br />
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During this hard time for all, it's good to remember how God has taken care of us over the years and present-day included. Last week, God encouraged me through my cookbooks. Many memories leaped off the pages and flooded my soul with the hope that He will take care of me now, too.<br />
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To not mislead you, I do bake but just not using all those fancy recipes. I have my favorites––like carrot cake and apple pie and cinnamon rolls. I use the same recipes every time and for many years now. Maybe because I teach little girls and teens to cook and bake, I keep it simple. And, I am an active person, just not an exercise guru--far from it. I also have exercise classes with my girls––keeping it simple also.<br />
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Where is this story going, you ask? It started when I began moving cookbooks from one location to another. As I looked at each one, I realized how many cookbooks I have from churches––churches that support our ministry. In each cookbook are recipes from beautiful Christian ladies (and men, too) who not only inspire me to cook but also to emulate their godly lives.<br />
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While visiting a long-time supporting church one furlough, we saw Jesus through these ladies and all the people who call this church home. We'd been trusting God for supplies to ship to Bolivia to start classes for underprivileged kids––this was before computers and printers were available in Bolivia. God had supplied ten computers to ship by the time we showed up for the Sunday morning service at this lovely church.<br />
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After sharing our vision for our ministry, we shook hands at the door after the service. One sweet church member leaned over, and in a low voice, said, "Do you have printers for these computers?" No, we didn't. We hadn't even thought that far ahead, but God thought of it. Then, surprising us said, "Well, you do now." God had supplied printers before we prayed for them. He knows our needs.<br />
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Without even realizing, my husband and I exercised our faith by going step by step with Him to provide for the ministry he'd put on our hearts. We knew we wanted to give computer classes to children with no opportunity to learn the technology of the times but somehow not seeing the need for printers also. But God! Yes, but God was a step ahead of us. We'd stepped out in faith to follow Him and do His will--teaching underprivileged kids in remote parts of Bolivia. We exercised our faith, and He provided all we needed––even printers we hadn't yet asked to be provided.<br />
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God will supply what we need. And He already knows what we need before we ask. He will do that now, too, in this pandemic. God has used our classes to bring children to Him. Let's pray many will open their hearts to the gospel message during this world-wide pandemic. And, that a cure will be found soon.<br />
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Are you exercising your faith?<br />
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What is God doing for you today even though you haven't asked Him?<br />
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The church in this story has a pastor who is a super cook––we know because he's cooked for us every time we are home on furlough. (He even allows us to fall asleep on his sofa.)<br />
Thank you, Pastor Barry!<br />
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<b>Hash Brown Pork Bake</b><br />
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<i><b>From Pastor Barry's kitchen:</b></i><br />
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2 c. (16 oz.) sour cream<br />
1 can (10 ¾ oz.) condensed cream of chicken soup, undiluted<br />
1 pkg. (32 oz.) frozen cubed hash brown potatoes, thawed<br />
2 c. cubed pork<br />
1 lb. process cheese (Velveeta) cubed<br />
¼ c. chopped onion<br />
2 c. crushed cornflakes<br />
½ c. margarine, melted<br />
1 c. shredded mozzarella cheese<br />
3 green pepper rings<br />
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In a large bowl, combine sour cream and soup. Stir in the hash browns, pork, process cheese, and onion. Transfer to a greased 3 qt. baking dish. Toss cornflake crumbs and margarine, sprinkle over the top. Bake, uncovered, at 350 F. for 50 minutes. Sprinkle with mozzarella cheese. Bake 10 minutes longer or until bubbly. Garnish with green pepper rings or parsley. Yield: 8 servings.<br />
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And, we also visit with a family of this church who opens their home and Amish dining room table to us. There is always a delicious home-cooked meal served with love. They are faithful workers in the church and a blessing to all who know them.<br />
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<b>Pigs in the Blanket</b> (Easy Way)<br />
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<i><b>From the kitchen of Jean and Marty:</b></i><br />
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1 large head of cabbage shredded<br />
1 lb. hamburger<br />
1 chopped onion<br />
½ c. rice (uncooked)<br />
1 (15 oz.) tomato soup<br />
1 (15 oz.) tomato juice<br />
½ c. water<br />
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Put cabbage in casserole dish. Brown onion and hamburger. Mix rice, soup, juice and water. Pour over cabbage. Do not stir. Cover and bake for 1 hour 15 minutes at 350 F.<br />
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<b><i>"He makes grass to grow for the cattle. and plants for people to cultivate––bringing forth food from the earth:" (Psalm 104: 14 NIV).</i></b><br />
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<br />Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-12258279854980168092020-01-24T10:31:00.000-08:002020-02-10T12:22:05.519-08:00"Cookies" that Don't Rust<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><b>"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, </b></i></div>
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<b><i>where moths and rust destroy,"</i> (Matthew 6:19 NIV).</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My Eternal "Cookies"––I’ve known them since they were born. Some were in my Sunday School classes, some in youth group and children's programs, and most in our computer classes.Then, they became young ladies and entered my Bible and cooking classes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We baked chocolate chip cookies--they'd never had one. They learned many things, but most importantly, everyone accepted Jesus as their Savior. They are my eternal "cookies" that won't rust. I used God's recipe (His Word) and saw Him mold them, little by little, to His image. Finally, I watched them fly out of the nest to make "cookies" of their own that won't rust. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This new year, I'm contemplating the things I will invest in for eternity and eliminating those things that will rust. I'm striving to share the things God has given me––flour, sugar, chocolate chips––to see them from a heavenly perspective to invest in "cookies" that last forever––eternal treasures.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8Mu6IE2zrnCti4IZ0QwP8CXEmGrWvyho2yU9qTbOqdq3IlR-l1X7PKgMwH4KlyYspxiOCDVOGsAJ-zOASyOZMNLKyI0oOxhBZQ2rnjJsa3jfw4kBLnAxfRGnbJGwQSCWNy0hIi3EWio/s1600/Girls+crosses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #00a976; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8Mu6IE2zrnCti4IZ0QwP8CXEmGrWvyho2yU9qTbOqdq3IlR-l1X7PKgMwH4KlyYspxiOCDVOGsAJ-zOASyOZMNLKyI0oOxhBZQ2rnjJsa3jfw4kBLnAxfRGnbJGwQSCWNy0hIi3EWio/s320/Girls+crosses.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>Young Girls––now some are mothers</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>We Made Cookies</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>We Baked</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>We Studied</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 11pt;"><i><b>We Prayed</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><b><i>We Had Serious Conversations </i></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQHhjbRn31dXV_ZT_DHqKlr3XN1BMxy9Zwb90y0OCbyKdFZYrgHCYpPZz_BiaFV2XGMUgJEFglnsUBJEfbNGQEyd_xTBy-1OanSJlEn8IqZdhzXYrcNMmHR5P0HH6bRFuM5NS6dLqSRs/s1600/laugh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #00a976; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQHhjbRn31dXV_ZT_DHqKlr3XN1BMxy9Zwb90y0OCbyKdFZYrgHCYpPZz_BiaFV2XGMUgJEFglnsUBJEfbNGQEyd_xTBy-1OanSJlEn8IqZdhzXYrcNMmHR5P0HH6bRFuM5NS6dLqSRs/s320/laugh.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><b><i> We Laughed </i></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK7M8cCPMIu3t7aNroir2bpbRIKQb2u9Gu2mhHHz0xZtPULGVBbQsTDj8GWLJTek5P-cPVeeP2W5ioqpWkiwZBIs00JmhgT3tpvsXIIdNWPcaf7ve4adOdrOwmXz-vKp6TL515jwvfag/s1600/bags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #00a976; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK7M8cCPMIu3t7aNroir2bpbRIKQb2u9Gu2mhHHz0xZtPULGVBbQsTDj8GWLJTek5P-cPVeeP2W5ioqpWkiwZBIs00JmhgT3tpvsXIIdNWPcaf7ve4adOdrOwmXz-vKp6TL515jwvfag/s320/bags.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><b><i>And Received Prizes</i></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_jgn3B7R7O-nQpQOuFhdb_2WK0govn5fdA6sOM_nZLB8MAToVHrv_rf2RcxOaUevq02PwCCwHW9lDuelwKxkHAZDQ0bvRlUBfbKda-UCnaWfE2g7O2FnCsQZSLyaZwKwL52wvoobiQ04/s1600/DSC00023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #00a976; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_jgn3B7R7O-nQpQOuFhdb_2WK0govn5fdA6sOM_nZLB8MAToVHrv_rf2RcxOaUevq02PwCCwHW9lDuelwKxkHAZDQ0bvRlUBfbKda-UCnaWfE2g7O2FnCsQZSLyaZwKwL52wvoobiQ04/s320/DSC00023.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><b><i>We Made Angel Dolls</i></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT67Mc1dwQU6ZCCTS9qjLlZ_leLY9fGqehUi7D6UGZ20aLZ8V0VNQR_b7F6S-2wr2Y-3dYE4YPb8hsOJQ6_uLeLvj0H-zsGxrOm6xyqynqZn-ODfSkrRib_cFPBir4tNAbfm_HykctNk/s1600/Rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #00a976; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT67Mc1dwQU6ZCCTS9qjLlZ_leLY9fGqehUi7D6UGZ20aLZ8V0VNQR_b7F6S-2wr2Y-3dYE4YPb8hsOJQ6_uLeLvj0H-zsGxrOm6xyqynqZn-ODfSkrRib_cFPBir4tNAbfm_HykctNk/s320/Rainbow.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.498039) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 15px;"><i><b>My Classroom is Quiet Now</b></i></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 15px;"><i><b>"To everything there is a season,</b></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 15px;"><i><b> and a time to every purpose under the heaven:" (</b></i></span><i style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 15px;"><b>Ecclesiastes 3:1a NIV)</b></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 19.31999969482422px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Some of my "angel cookies" sprouted their wings and flew on to the next phase of their lives. It was time to go; but soon it will be time for me to guide a new group in God's ways––new classes with new "cookies" will start soon.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 19.31999969482422px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">I'm looking forward to storing up eternal </span></span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-size: 15px;">treasures this new year––"cookies" that don't rust. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px;"><b><i>What will be your eternal "cookies" this year that won't rust?</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px;"><b><i>Need a lift and a laugh today?</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><b><i>*If you liked this post you might want to read more about eternal </i></b></span></span><i><b>treasures in my article published on Heart Wings Blog. I hope it will give you a lift and a laugh today.</b></i></span></div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-89022844543586626582020-01-14T07:11:00.001-08:002023-04-11T11:54:38.125-07:00Step into the Future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The <span class="small-caps" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Lord</span> himself goes before you and will be with you; </span></b></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8 NASB</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">David was on the run. Saul was bent on taking his life, feeling David to be a threat to his throne. Weary from the tense pursuit, David cried out to God. “Keep me as the apple of the eye,” he wrote, “Hide me in the shadow of Your wings” (Psalm 17:8 NIV).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The phrase “apple of the eye” is an idiom. At the time of David, people thought the pupil of the eye was actually a solid object (much like an apple). The pupil is at the center of the eye. It is a part of us that we instinctively protect. Asking to be the “apple of [God’s] eye” was to request that God guard him as a cherished child. He wanted the kind of protection that was akin to a chick hiding under the wings of its mother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God is “keeping” us in the same way right now. I’m the apple of His eye, and so are you, child of God. I slip into bed every night knowing, when I wake up (Lord willing), I will step into the next day and all it will bring. None of us knows what tomorrow will entail, but we do know whatever it is, God will be with us and keep us close.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Recently, I experienced that presence and protection in an instant. It’s a known fact that seniors fear a fall because we know what the results could be—broken hips, broken shoulders, and sometimes even a fatal fall. So I am usually pretty cautious as I move around, especially steps.</span></div><div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); color: #666666; margin-bottom: 27px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But that particular day, I was anything but careful. Feeling all joyful with our new puppy in my arms, I carelessly traipsed down the stairs. Our puppy got the shock of his life when my ankle turned about half-way down the steps. I stumbled, lost my balance, and squeezed the poor dog so hard, he squealed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A vision of an almost certain trip to the hospital danced in my head as I went down. I cried out to God to rescue me. I instinctively grabbed for the railing with my left hand, and all my weight landed on my left foot. While I sustained a serious sprain, the Lord kept me from broken bones or an even more tragic ending. There’s no question in my mind that God, in that moment, kept me as the “apple of His eye.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Traveling this journey of life with God, we’re never alone. We’re cherished, favored, and loved beyond measure. Protected. It’s a trip of a lifetime. No pun intended––okay a little intended. It’s better than a vacation, because it never ends. Never. And, when our life on earth does end, guess what? It was only the beginning of being with Jesus forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We may wonder what the new year will bring, but we don’t need to doubt Who will be with us. Let’s step into the future, the new year, with confidence that we are the apple of His eye, and rejoice because God is with us always.</span></div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-29187665966055873942019-12-29T06:36:00.000-08:002020-01-01T06:01:13.784-08:00Peace in His Presence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fold, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone all around them: and they were sore afraid.”</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "times";"><i>Luke 2:8-9<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Imagine lying in a field under the stars with your fluffy sheep nearby. A quiet, peaceful night turns to fear when suddenly, an angel appears with glory all around. Can you envision a bright, glorious light shining over a dark, quiet field? Wouldn’t you be afraid too? The angel tells them of the baby born, and then a great company of heavenly hosts appeared with the angel praising God. I’d be sore afraid (I’d be terrified) too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times";">But then fear turns to peace in the presence of the baby.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times";">“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "times";">Luke 2:10-11<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The shepherd’s fear turns to excitement. They are curious and believe what God tells them. They left their field to find the child. They got up, followed directions from God, and they found the Savior. Can you envision the scene? Are there any who are skeptics? There isn’t one mention of any doubting. They just set out to find the baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Do you hear the joy in their words when they say, “Let us go to Bethlehem?!” They believed and wanted to see what the Lord told them. Now imagine that peaceful scene when they see the baby and find peace in His presence. Fear turned to excitement, and peace returned when they believed God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">The shepherds followed God, came to find Jesus and worshipped Him. Then, they went out and told everyone they encountered that the Messiah was born. #ComeFindJesus #WorshipHim #GoAndTell <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">How can we follow God as the shepherds did?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Through His Word: <b><i>“The word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.”</i></b><i>Psalm 119:105</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Through Circumstances: <b><i>“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all the ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”</i></b><i>Psalm 3:5-6<b><o:p></o:p></b></i></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Through Prayer: <b><i>“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” </i></b><i>James 1:5<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">If we live each day following the example of the shepherds, then, we too will find Jesus waiting for us when we seek Him. #GodsGuidance #GodsPeace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Let’s thank the Lord for shining a bright light to guide us to Him and follow Him daily––through His Word, through circumstances, prayer, and God’s people. Fear turns to faith when we look to Him and believe what He tells us in His Word. Just like the shepherds, their fear vanished when they believed God, it turned to joy and excitement, and they wanted to go to Bethlehem to see Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">I’m thankful for the peace God gives when we trust him. I’ve experienced that peace on the mission field when all seemed terrifying, and we thought our son was dying of Typhoid Fever. But, when trusting God, I experienced that peace that passes all understanding. I still can’t understand it, but I know God gave me peace. My guess is, you experience it too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”</span></i></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Philippians 4:7 #GodsPresence # #GodsPeace <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">This new year, let’s go to Bethlehem to worship the baby...the Savior. Even wise men came to worship Him. Let’s thank Him for leaving glory for us so we may have eternal life,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">He is the Prince of Peace who gives us the gift of peace that is accessible whatever our circumstances while abiding in His presence. #PrinceofPeace #GiftofPeace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">How have you experienced peace in His presence?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-56090921701765341442019-11-29T10:38:00.002-08:002019-11-29T10:38:14.633-08:00Making Holiday Memories <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;">Memorable Moments</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;">Thanksgiving was a traditional family gathering at my in-laws. The siblings came from near and far with their families. Entering the snowy driveway, we'd see the house with seven gables high on the hill. The roar of snowmobiles could be heard coming from the fields nearby––nieces and nephews enjoying Grandpa's toys. Beautiful horses galloped in the fields near the red barn. Approaching the house, we'd be engulfed by a whiff of the turkey; then Grandma opened the door and lavished us with hugs. As we'd sit down at the beautifully set table with its china and crystal, the golden turkey was the centerpiece, and the pumpkin pie was a sweet ending to the feast. It was truly a Norman Rockwell scene. </span><br />
<span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;">I miss those gatherings. They are but treasured memories now that many family members have entered eternity. The memories cause me to be thankful for the times past, and they make me conscious this Thanksgiving of how short my time is on earth. "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, his love endures forever" (Psalm 107:1 NIV). </span><br />
<span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="color: #2f475a; font-family: inherit;">This Thanksgiving Day, I'll give thanks to the Lord for providing a way for me to have eternal life and for good health, family, and friends, and so many other blessings. And yes, good memories too. God is so good––enjoy His goodness––Happy Thanksgiving!</span>Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-63444858514681090422019-11-05T12:29:00.000-08:002020-03-06T05:29:10.938-08:00Biking or Bumbling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>"Don't assume that you know it all" (Proverbs 5:&7 MSG).</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Learning to ride a bike sometimes results in scratches, sore muscles, and maybe even broken bones––two out of three is my experience. Yes, just one experience––a memorable one. A memory of my son's seventh birthday. He got a bike and so did I. Warning: Don't learn to ride a bike at the same time your kids are learning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, what I can tell you about my biking experience is this. I was young! My son couldn't wait to ride. And, how hard could it be to sit on two wheels and stay upright? Pretty hard, I found out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The July sun beamed down on the shiny new bikes. My son and I walked our bikes down the driveway and across the highway onto a less-traveled mountain road. Earlier that day, my husband pleaded for me to wait until he came home so we could all be together for this memory-making venture. Knowing our son couldn't wait to mount that new bike, he conceded and agreed to join the adventure when he arrived home later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I helped my son up to the seat. He got the hang of it quickly while I played the role of traffic police until my turn. Then my turn, I sat with the posture of a natural cyclist even though I had no idea about brakes or speeds or balance. Determined to do this thing, I pushed the peddles while my son took a turn as traffic police.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">With one push of the peddles, I sped into the wind. Whoa, what fun! Fun yes, until I had no idea how to brake. Panic set in as the wheels seemed to lift from the pavement under me. How to stop? What if a car came over the little noll? <i>Think</i>, I told myself! The only place to go and the only way to stop, I headed into a fence. Crash! But, a big bush kept me from a fall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">My son couldn't keep the tears from falling over his sweet face. I assured him I'd be okay. We walked those bikes home while I tried not to limp. The experience never deterred that seven-year-old from learning to ride––but I put my bike up for sale that very night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes God nudges us to avoid a bumbling outcome. And, sometimes He pushes us into a fence instead of a dangerous fall on the pavement while He teaches us we don't know it all, but He does. We see God's hand that guides us to safety instead of falling into a dangerous situation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm sure God's hand held me up that day and kept me from falling. I learned this, "...don't try to figure everything out on your own" (Proverbs 3:6 MSG). Sometimes we go ahead of Him as I did that day by not waiting for my husband who knew how to ride a bike. Sometimes He uses others to teach us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">My biking experience certainly taught me a lesson about how to wait on God and allow Him to direct my steps. When we are out of step with God, it's a dangerous place to be and may end on a pavement with bruises or even worse. Even so, He promises He will direct us in the way we should go––even into the bushes to lessen our injures from going our own way and not waiting on Him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>"Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track" (Proverbs 3:6 MSG).</i></b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Have you gone off track and crashed into the bushes thinking you know it all––as I've done more than once? So, how do we avoid the proverbial crashes and bushes?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Listen for God's voice. He'll keep you on track. The key is...drumroll please: L<i>isten</i> to His voice by reading His word, praying, obeying and learning from our circumstances.</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I finally learned to ride a bike while passing through mid-life. But even now in my seventh decade, I still strive to trust God for less bumbling and more proverbial "biking" without crashes because He does know it all. I am still learning to ride my proverbial bike. How about you?</span></div>
Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-26680602108867392582019-09-10T10:35:00.000-07:002019-09-29T11:35:56.426-07:00Night of the Frogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">for he acknowledges my name” (Psalm 91:14 NIV).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I sipped tea while looking at a frog––he’d caught
my eye when I glanced across the room. There he sat on top of my lamp. I
couldn’t stop my lips from turning upwards––then a burst of giggles. Memories
returned of frogs on an eerie night in a foreign field––actually miles of
fields around the little mud house we called home for a while. Unlike my
ceramic frog atop the lamp that held the lampshade from going ajar, the frogs
that night were real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We’d arrived at the mission school to join the
staff after less than a month in Bolivia. We’d lived for a time in the
attic/guestroom of the school library, and then prepared to move to the
“farmhouse.” Before you form the image of a sweet stateside farmhouse, let me paint
a picture of this “farmhouse” in Bolivia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The school rested on a flat landscape atop a
valley. A short walk on a winding dirt road brought you to a curve where a
breath-taking panorama of acres of fields came into view. At the bottom of the
hill sat the “farmhouse” that we had eagerly awaited to inhabit. There it sat,
a little mud house in the middle of nowhere. Our barrels hadn’t arrived from
the States so many household items were on loan to us, but we needed a
refrigerator. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My husband left for the city eight hours away to
buy a frig, leaving our five-year-old daughter and me alone in that tiny house.
Our son had settled into dorm life with boys his age, and we quickly became
good friends with his dorm parents––also recently arrived missionaries. So, no
neighbors, no lights outside, and no way to communicate with anyone at the
school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On the second night alone in that secluded little
abode, I heard a noise, a strange noise. The hour neared that the school
generator would shut down, leaving only candlelight. The noise continued. I
looked out the kitchen window where the sound seemed to be loudest. Pitch.
Black. It resembled the sound of a motorcycle trying to start. After listening
to that sound for what seemed like hours, my imagination kicked into high gear.
What if there were more motorcycles than just one. Hell’s Angels came to mind.
Could there be similar gangs in this remote area? Were they waiting for the
generator to shut down to make their move? Fear took over. <i>Who could
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fear held me hostage. But, more scared for my
daughter than myself, I had to get a grip. Couldn’t God take care of her––of
us? We were in the youth of our ministry, and just as Timothy was in the youth
of his life and ministry, the enemy certainly didn’t want him (or me) to
continue spreading the gospel. This would be the first time I confronted my
fears on the mission field, but not the last––if I were to continue in the
ministry God called me to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Scriptures came to mind. Why did Paul write this
to Timothy? “I call to remembrance the faith that is in you…” (2 Timothy 1:5
NIV). Paul encouraged Timothy by reminding him of the faith he’d seen in him.
Maybe that statement today would sound like, <i>Hey, Tim, you can do this!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Paul reminded him, “to stir up the gift of God in
you through the laying on of hands,” (2 Timothy 1:6 NIV). <i>Go get ‘em,
boy!</i> I remembered hands laid on me only a few months before this
night. And, then these powerful words of exhortation to Timothy, “For God has
not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2
Timothy1:7 NIV). Fear paralyzes our ministry. Faith in God powers our ministry.
Believe. Pray. A calm settled over me. I trusted God to take care of us. Peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then, a knock at the door. I inched to the door.
A familiar face looked back. It was our son’s dorm parent, Mike. My sweaty
hands turned the doorknob. Telling him my scary story, he took his flashlight
and ventured out into the darkness returning quickly. Nothing. But there <i>was </i>a
noise. We both listened intently. “There, do you hear it?” Mike burst into
laughter, then trying to control himself but to no avail. <i>What on earth
was so funny?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Those are frogs making that sound.” No way!
Eventually, I found the humor in it all, but with a bit of embarrassment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gathering my dignity, I asked Mike, “Do they have
little motorcycles?” We both burst into laughter until our eyes wept.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Do you know what I learned that night? I learned
that God is always with us and never leaves us alone. He watches out for us and
rescues us–-even from frogs with little motorcycles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There will always be fears to face, but when we
trust God, He will take us from fear to faith. He promises to rescue us. What
are your fears today? Will you let God stretch your faith in whatever
circumstance you find yourself? We can go from fear to faith daily and stir up
the gift of God in us so that He can use us for His purpose.</span></div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-58828384729924052082019-08-24T09:12:00.002-07:002019-08-24T09:14:21.649-07:00God's Masterpiece<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well" (Psalm 139:14 NIV).</span></div>
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To some degree, I resemble the lady on the unicorn. I can understand why I might be viewed in that way. As a children's writer, I live in a fantasy world much of the time. And, I'm quite content to be there. I might not be thought of as a work of art but rather a "piece of work." Smile here. But, I am a work of art, God's work of art. And, so are you! But, what my neighbor once accused me of being totally shattered my world at the time.<br />
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A knock at my door. I opened it to find my neighbor from across the hall glaring at me with malice in her eyes. She came to say, "You are such a phony. No one could smile as much as you do and be real."<br />
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True story. We were in our last semester of our missionary training when my neighbor, a new student and young mother, felt led of God to minister to me on a biblical principle she had just discovered. Matthew 18:15 says, "If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained a brother." (ESV)<br />
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At the time, I wished she'd kept that verse to herself, but God knew the exact words I needed to grow in Him.<br />
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The conversation went something like this. My neighbor blurted, "How can you smile so much? I watch you every day and there it is--that smile. Get real! This missionary training is the pits. How can you be happy here?"<br />
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My reply, "Thank you for sharing that with me. I'll work on it." Although, seconds later a not so nice thought crept in––<i>Wow </i>l<i>ady, you're some piece of work.</i> Then, quickly confessing that thought because in my heart I knew she was God's work of art, and He was trying to teach me something through her.<br />
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And, work on it I did. My heart was bruised and my ego too. For the next few weeks, I walked around campus with a straight face. Have you ever tried not to smile? When a fellow student greeted me, I puckered my face, mumbled a reply, and tried to not be that phony person my neighbor detested. I became a complete phony while trying<i> not</i> to show my glistening teeth to anyone. After a few horrible weeks, I realized what a phony I had become by not smiling.<br />
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God had no intention for me to stop smiling. It wasn't a sin to smile, but He did teach me to not be a people pleaser but rather to please Him. By being ourselves, we allow God to chisel out our areas that need to be tweaked by Him. Then and only then, are we free to be all He wants us to be and shine for Him in our own unique way.<br />
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Psalm 139:14 "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."<br />
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God didn't want me to quit smiling, but He did want me to be sensitive to the needs of others––especially my neighbor. She became a good friend when I noticed she <i>wasn't </i>smiling and needed a friend to help her through the difficult time she was going through with young children and the pressures of classes and homework. I listened to her, and she gained a friend (brother). I didn't need to quit smiling, but she did need a friend. And, I needed to learn how to be a friend. God used me just as I was––fearfully and wonderfully made––and smiling.<br />
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How about you? What attributes has God given you to bless others? We are all fearfully and wonderfully made. He has a purpose for each of us so that the world will see His wonderful works through us and turn to Him. Even if people see you as delusional––riding a unicorn––or phony because you smile too much, He has a purpose for you and will use you because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. So be yourself! Allow God to use you––just the way He made you. Ephesians 2:10 says, "We are God's workmanship," the Greek word for workmanship means work of art. We are His work of art! Thank Him for planning each detail of His creation––His masterpiece––YOU!<br />
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"Don't change so people will like you. </div>
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Be yourself and the right people will love the real you." ~ author unknown</div>
Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-35789850380017322312019-08-16T06:12:00.001-07:002019-08-16T06:12:07.295-07:00The Everlasting Rock<div style="margin: 0in;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><span style="font-family: "times"; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><span style="font-family: "times"; text-align: left;"><b>"Trust the Lord forever, for in God the Lord, we have an everlasting Rock." </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">An annual celebration is underway here in Cochabamba. The festival of the Virgin of Urkupiña is celebrated with dancing, parades, and rituals that take place this week. During this time, the traffic is so dense on our road that it takes us two hours to advance a few miles––if for some reason we need to venture out during this mad rush. Recently our main road was paved, bringing with it more traffic than the years before. Looking out our windows at 6 a.m., we can see a steady stream of busses, taxis, and cars racing by on our main road a half mile from our house. They are rushing to reach the mountain 5 miles away.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">This mountain is the location of the ceremony that takes place each year. It was here that the legend behind the festival began. The legend tells of a poor shepherd girl who met a young girl on this mountain while tending to her sheep on a hillside near a town outside Cochabamba. The young girl gave five stones to the peasant girl. When the little peasant girl returned home, she took them out of her pocket to show her mother. The stones had turned to precious gems. The girl's family was rescued from poverty. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Today, this celebration will attract hundreds of thousands of people to our city. They come from all over the world. Many Bolivians who live outside the country will return to visit family and participate in the festivities. They will climb the hillside where the peasant girl received the rocks and then break off their rock hoping for prosperity in the following year––the bigger the rock, the more prosperity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Reading my children's book, you'll travel to Urkupiña with Chi Chi and his sister, Fi Fi and learn more of the rabbits' dangerous adventure to this mountain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><span style="font-family: "times";"><b>Chi Chi and his sister Fi Fi visited this celebration one year. They tell their story in Book 3 of <i>The Really Rare Rabbits Series, Over the Winding Wall.</i></b></span></span></span><br />
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<b>Flapping! And screeching! And, a terrifying shadow.</b></div>
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<b> There they were––giant geese--and very real!</b></div>
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Chi Chi watches as Fi Fi slides down Al Alpaca's fuzzy back. They bid farewell to the new friend they met on their adventure through Peppermint Pass. Now, the brother and sister head down the yellow dandelion trail to the Winding Wall where Grandfather Rabbit waits for them. But, first they must venture through the mysterious jungle of Selvaland.</div>
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They've heard a scary story about giant ghost geese who live in Selvaland. Chi Chi shrugs it off, but Fi Fi is frightened. He assures her it is just a story. After all, their friend Al wouldn't send them into Selvaland if danger lurked there. </div>
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Chi Chi soon changes his mind when they meet Hotchie, a strange looking creature guarding the entrance of Selvaland. But, Hotchie is not the scariest creature they will meet along the way. When the rabbits stop to rest, their fears mount. Fi Fi trembles, but Chi Chi encourages her to believe God's Word that says, "Trust the Lord forever, for in God the Lord, we have an everlasting Rock." Chi Chi doesn't know how much he and Fi Fi will need to trust the Lord all the way to the Winding Wall––and beyond!<br />
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Available on Amazon at: <a href="https://amzn.to/2TM1Mp1" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">https://amzn.to/2TM1Mp1</a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br />
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-65527840821148820942019-08-04T18:36:00.000-07:002019-08-10T13:18:21.645-07:00Dancing with Ants<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> "There are four small creatures, wisest of the wise they are––ants..." (Proverbs 30:24-25 MSG)</span></div>
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After church, we parked the car off the dirt road in our area to head down a narrow muddy path to Guichi's house. Guichi is our Bolivian ministry helper. His whole family awaited our arrival. They were cooking cow heart for us––yes, we love it. But, first I'd do a dance on the edge of a neighbor's dried up alfalfa field––a scary dance.</div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">I slid out of the car into a high, hay-like area. I hit the ground and what seemed like a hundred large black ants attacked both of my legs––stinging their hearts out on my bare legs––of all the days to wear a dress, I picked this day. I landed in a hidden ant hill. The jumping and screaming missionary ant dance alarmed the neighbors I'm sure, but what did they think when Chuck began smacking my legs? I can now say I danced with ants. Hopefully, the neighbors saw an ant dance and not a missionary marriage problem.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">We ran to Guichi's house. Chuck immediately gave me a cortisone shot, and I gulped down a Benadryl. I rubbed baking soda all over the bites up to my knees. There were so many bites I couldn't begin to count them all. BTW, I am allergic. I didn't have to use the epi-pen I carry for my fish allergies. Just can't make up this stuff, and I'm a writer. Our medical experience and medical kit saved me from the epi-pen and after effects that could have ended in a hospital trip.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Thankfully, it was an ant hill and not a snake nest. I may start wearing cowgirl boots 24/7. After many years on the mission field, your surroundings are so familiar that you forget to take photos. Then, you begin to forget the dangers, too. But even though we become lax, God is faithful to protect us and give us warnings.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Do you know that ants are wise? "There are four small creatures, wisest of the wise they are––ants––frail as they are, get plenty of food for the winter;" (Proverbs 30:24-25 MSG)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">One thing for sure, they enjoyed their Sunday feast of white meat thanks to their not so wise missionary neighbors.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Let's be wise like ants so we don't fall into the proverbial ant hills of life.</span></span></div>
Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-7060190403434083692019-07-18T10:58:00.000-07:002019-07-18T11:08:38.612-07:00Chasing the Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>"Restore to me the joy or your salvation." (Psalms 51:11,12 NRSV).</b></div>
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While drinking my tea and chomping on my cookie––I'm not a breakfast person, but I make up for it the rest of the day––I made a mental list of all I wanted to accomplish on a Monday morning. I flipped on the morning news to check about blockades in the country where I live in South America. All roads closed because of a looming problem within the country. No problem since I had no plans to head out anytime soon. Then, checked the news to see that all was right with the world––well, for the morning anyhow. Now, what next? Should I clean those blinds staring at me or work on correspondence? I hadn't a clue the wind would soon change my course.<br />
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Jolted by a swishing sound, I paused from all the noise in my head. <i>This</i> noise clamored around my windows and caught my attention. Wind! Gusty wind! Scary wind! Then it ceased. And, so did my schedule.<br />
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Instantly, my thoughts soared heavenly. God caught my attention. "So I set out to learn everything from wisdom to madness and folly. But I learned first hand that pursuing all of this is like chasing the wind" (Ecclesiastes 1:17 NLT).<br />
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I set out chasing the wind. I reached for my Bible and glanced out the window. Trees bent in the wind but didn't break. New leaves budded, and their greenery etched against the blue sky. A reminder that my soul may bend but never break, and just as the leaves bud again, I too have a new beginning each day. My heart warmed, and the wind in my soul ceased. I read these words "Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy or your salvation." (Psalms 51:11,12 NRSV).<br />
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My soul relaxed. The clamoring stopped. My joy returned.<br />
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Chasing God brings joy. What are you chasing today? Do you want God to restore your joy? Chase Him!<br />
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"We must allow the Word of God to correct us the same way we allow it to encourage us." </div>
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A.W. Tozer<br />
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-84774056756512877172019-07-01T06:40:00.001-07:002019-07-10T13:26:24.754-07:00Happy Fourth of July<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every day is a happy one when we are in our home country––even when we got food poisoning the first week of our arrival from Bolivia one furlough a few years ago. We were blessed because we had the best health care and recovered quickly.</div>
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While in the States on furlough one summer, I had the blessing of attending the AWSA conference in St. Louis and had a signing at the ICRS. What an awesome blessing from the Lord to meet amazing authors and speakers at both events. They are an inspiration to all!</div>
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Meeting my first publisher, Tracy Ruckman was a blessing. Memories that last forever are treasured. I also met my editor, Julie-Allyson Ieron, and her mom for the first time––live and in person. What a fun time and good food! Nine years of working with these talented and godly ladies, and they still put up with me.</div>
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I am thankful that God ushered me into this wonderful world of publishing in this phase of my life––the senior phase! "Surely you have granted him unending blessings and made him glad with the joy of your presence" (Psalm 21:6 NIV). His unending blessings amaze me, and the joy of His presence was evident in these three events. This is all possible because of our country and its freedoms and opportunities.</div>
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We love seeing the flags flying all over our country when we are home, and we're thankful for the freedom we have as Americans––and especially thankful for those who have sacrificed so we can enjoy that freedom. We are blessed to be Americans!</div>
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God bless you, and God bless America, land that we love! Happy Fourth of July!</div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-44299208468249445012019-06-10T10:47:00.001-07:002020-04-02T11:52:51.454-07:00Let Him Shine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Do you ever wish for more time in the day? God can do that––He did do it. The Bible says so. "The sun stood stood still, and the moon stopped, till the nation avenged itself on its enemies" (Joshua 10:13 NIV). God still does miracles today--maybe the sun won't stand still, but we can find more time. He can do a miracle in our life without the sun standing still. He can shine through us, so others see God's miracles in us. How?</div>
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Realize--What is our spirituality?</div>
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It is God in us–-serving each other and the world. How many miracles have we missed because we don't believe and trust the Lord? Worse yet, we don't always realize the miracles God performs for us because we aren't aware of God in every aspect of our life. Joshua believed God to defeat the enemy. He realized God existed. He believed. We can start the day defeated before hitting the floor––hurried, frustrated, and miserable before the day starts because we don't first recognize Who brought us through the night and Who gives us another day to live. Or, we can thank God for another day, pray for our day, and give Him first place in our first thoughts and daily life. What if we just say good morning to God and realize He wants to be a part of our day from beginning to end? </div>
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Reflect––Who do we reflect?</div>
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So many verses talk about God's face shining on us. The Psalmist asked God to teach him His decrees. "Make your face shine upon your servant and teach me your decrees" (Psalm 119:135 NIV). He wanted to be close to God and learn about Him and His ways. When we spend time in the Word, we learn of God's teachings––His decrees. But, applying those teachings changes our life. It's then we reflect His shining face and others see Christ in us. When I apply moisturizer in the morning, my face shines. But as the day progresses, it looses its shine––applying more brings back the shine. If we keep reading and applying God's Word, our lives shine continuously. It's then we reflect and shine The Light in this dark world.</div>
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Rest––He can do the rest! Rest assured!</div>
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We have a free will to seek God or not. He doesn't force us to love Him and serve Him. But, He will do the rest if we trust Him and obey His Word. Yes, He will give us rest and peace, and He will carry our burdens, and He will give us all we need to serve Him and accomplish His will. We'll find the time we need when our priorities match His. He promises us not just life but abundant life. So rest assured, He keeps His promises. </div>
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Apply God's moisturizer all day (His Word) and let Him shine!</div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-13606752391902440502019-05-20T12:27:00.000-07:002020-01-01T17:44:15.459-08:00Dumbells and Smart Belles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, </div>
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if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me" (Acts 20:24 NIV).</div>
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I'm not an exercise guru, not even close. But, I keep going physically, mentally, and spiritually. Yes, there are days I want to just give it all up––the writing, the classes, even the ministry. Did I just admit that? Haven't you been there a time or two, honestly? I'm guessing, yes. Admitting it is a way of facing the reality that things change and sometimes God does want to move us into a new task. But, just maybe, He wants to renew us for the task at hand. Maybe, we are burned out or just weary. Either way, He doesn't want us to give up, just keep moving. When I reach that point, I ask myself if I want to give up or, do I want to keep going and do more? A reality check that shakes my soul because deep down, I don't want to give up. I want to finish the race––on the path I walk or another path waiting for me directed by my God.</div>
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You don't have to enter the senior years to feel like giving it all up to go sit on the beach. Seasons in our lives cause us to want to give up on our dreams, give up on our marriage, our family or our job. We can lose our drive, our purpose, and our way if we lose sight of why we are in the race. The finish line has vanished from our view, and we lose sight of the task the Lord gives us. </div>
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In my book, <i>Shape Your Soul, </i>I write about resistance training in one chapter. Resistance training increases stamina. As you grow stronger, you don't tire as easily. The more weight you bear, the more you resist giving up. Likewise, the more we resist the devil, the more our faith muscles straighten and our faith increases. Each victory over sin builds our faith. We resist the temptation to give up, and we don't give in to the devil. "Therefore, submit to God. But, resist the devil, and He will flee from you" (James 4:7 HCSB).</div>
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I push myself in many ways––although not through exercise per se. But, physically, yes, I do push myself. I love to scrub floors, go figure. We have many on our mission base so I can't get away from my floor scrubbing exercise. I look for ways to exercise in my daily routine. I put things away where I'll have to bend––yep bending exercises. I keep moving, physically, mentally, and spiritually. If not, the body withers, our minds get lazy, and the soul dies.</div>
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A few years ago I developed carpel tunnel because I worked on the computer daily. Then last year, my right arm developed golf elbow and tennis elbow from completing five book contracts. Both times, I had physical therapy for months on end and part of that was lifting dumbbells to straighten my wrists and arm. Grueling can't accurately describe the pain of the therapy. But, without it, my shoulder could be frozen, possible surgery for my wrists and one of my dream jobs (writing) coming to and end. Not to mention, my day job as a missionary and teacher to young girls in jeopardy also. I saw the end result and worked towards it without hesitation. I wanted to get to the final therapy session and enjoy my work again.</div>
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Reaching the end of the race and accomplishing God's tasks for me keeps me going. Daily working out my faith straightens my soul to keep going in the race. There may be setbacks and rest periods along the journey, but I keep going to reach the finish line.</div>
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Resistance training with God moves our mountain of defeat. If we resit the devil, we gain strength, and complete our task for the Lord––never giving up and never defeated.</div>
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Let's be smart belles using our preverbial dumbbells to strengthen our souls so we never give up.<br />
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-71489157728489457312019-05-16T13:41:00.000-07:002019-05-17T10:41:15.957-07:00Lighten Your Load<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:30 NIV).</span></div>
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Did you know, if a burro is overloaded he will sit down and refuse to move? It's true, we see it happen on the road in front of our house. The burros in our village still carry a load of corn or alfalfa from the fields to their homes. They return home alone––they know the way.</div>
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How do the owners know the limit of their burros? It must be that they live and work with these animals day in and day out for many years. Burros can live 30 years or more; they will work hard for many years. But, if they are abused their life-span will be shorter.</div>
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What can we learn from the burro? Do we know when to sit down if the burden is too much, the way the burro does? Like the burro, we have a Master who knows us, He walks with us day in and day out. If we are overburdened, whose fault is it? Matthew 11:30 says, " ...my burden is light."</div>
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Maybe we have put the burden on ourselves, and it is time to review our priorities. We can delegate––let go. We are about to start a young couples' workshop here in Rumi Rancho. God has worked it out perfectly, but we had to seek help––we couldn't do it all. Six of us will do the necessary things to make it come together. Chuck will lead the study, Juan and Amelia will help with the setting up, and Pablo and Nathaly will lead the singing. I will show up with the snack, and of course, add some laughs when things start to get dull. By delegating, we can do more ministry and be more effective. We can reach and teach more children and adults because God has provided a way, so we won't be overburdened.</div>
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If we think we can't do one more thing, maybe we can't. Time to sit down so we don't overburden ourselves.<br />
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The burro's master knows his animal's limit––our Master knows our limit.<br />
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Let's seek God's priorities for us and lighten our load. </div>
Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-4333822743759781122019-05-07T08:31:00.001-07:002019-05-14T10:37:57.136-07:00Happy Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;"> <i>"I will remember the works of the Lord;" (Psalm 77:11 KJV)</i></span></div>
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Many of us have mothers who are gone––some to heaven, and some separated by many miles. I'm far away from my kids and grandkids this Mother's Day, but they are tucked in my heart where they are forever close to me.<br />
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For me, Mother's Day doesn't have to be a sad day because of separation, but a day of wonderful memories. I'm thankful God gives us memories and the ability to recall them. Some of my memories are funny ones, but others bring tears spilling over my face, and some do both. I love them all because I can see God's hand in every one.<br />
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I can both cry and laugh out loud every time I think of this memory––the birth of our granddaughter, Kayla. It is a testimony of how God gives us everything we need while going through hard situations in life. He even gives us humor to release tension.<br />
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We were privileged to be home on furlough when Kayla was born. After her entrance into our lives and arms, we headed back to the house with our son-in-law. We were all ecstatically happy but exhausted and ready for a comfy bed. That wasn't to be.<br />
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An hour later, a phone call broke the silence of the calm night and our elated state. Our son-in-law rushed out the door telling us to call our daughter––she would explain. We heard our daughter's frantic voice on the other end. Kayla had stopped breathing. They had her on machines to keep her breathing and to monitor her. It was a nightmare situation for our daughter. While waiting for the nurses to bring the baby to her, she became impatient waiting. Hours had passed, and there was no explanation for why she couldn't see her baby. As any new mother would do, she got out of bed at midnight and went searching for her baby. She found Kayla in a corner of the nursery, isolated and on the machines. I can only imagine the fear that must have paralyzed my daughter as she looked through that nursery window.<br />
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The next day, the baby was stabilized, but there was no explanation for why she couldn't breathe on her own. The doctors began running a multitude of tests. My husband and I left for the hospital early that morning. We were exhausted from a sleepless night but trying to stay calm for our daughter and son-in-law's sake. That wasn't easy––especially for me.<br />
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I headed to our daughter's room while my husband tried to get information about the baby at the nurses' station. Standing at the door of my daughter's room, I froze in my steps. I couldn't enter the room. What was wrong with my daughter? She didn't look like herself. Her face seemed changed. Her hair was the same, the room was the same, but who was the strange man sitting by her bed holding her hand? Already panicky about my granddaughter, now I feared my daughter also had a problem.<br />
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The man sitting by her side asked in a sweet soft voice, "Can we help you?"<br />
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Stunned, I looked them both up and down. Oh my! This was the birthing room from the day before. This wasn't my daughter but another young mother-to-be waiting for her baby to be born. She looked so much like my daughter they could have been sisters. Embarrassed, yes! Relieved beyond words, yes! Apologizing over and over, yes! Funny––not at the time!<br />
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I found my daughter's room. Our whole family was there by this time. Reluctantly, I told them about my misadventure. The whole hospital must have heard the howling coming out of that room on that morning. But that wasn't the end of their fun.<br />
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The following morning, we returned to the hospital. We were allowed to visit Kayla. As I put on the gown and looked at the helpless baby with tubes in her little body in that incubator, I completely lost it! I sobbed while a nurse comforted me and explained Kayla's condition. Finally, I held that sweet little thing in my arms and thanked God she was in a hospital prepared to handle her problems. After visiting the baby, we headed to my daughter's room. I was sure more jokes would be on the horizon that day, but I wasn't at all prepared for what came next.<br />
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Entering the room, I felt relieved that this time, it was my daughter in the bed. Kisses and hugs were exchanged. Then my son-in-law stood up and flung open the curtain that separated the next bed over from our sight. During the night, my daughter gained a roommate––I'm guessing you already know–the new mother from the birthing room the day before. She smiled and said, "Hi, Mom!" Her whole family had been sitting behind the curtain waiting for the unveiling. I'm sure the roar of laughter from that room on that day is one for the hospital's records.<br />
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The two young mothers confessed they were going to switch beds and confuse me again, but then decided my grandmother heart had enough excitement in the past few days. We enjoyed getting to know this sweet young mom who looked so much like my daughter, and her wonderful family. It was a time of laughter, rejoicing and sharing our faith.<br />
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The next day, we had the results of the tests. Kayla was born with pneumonia, but she was on her way to a full recovery. It is one of the Lord's works that we will always remember. Our prayers were answered.<br />
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I thought a mother, daughter, granddaughter story would be appropriate for Mother's Day! Hope the corners of your mouth turned upward a few times.<br />
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I am blessed to be a mom and a grandmother, and I'm thankful for all the wonderful memories of my kids and grandkids! Let's remember all of the Lord's wonderful works this Mother's Day!<br />
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Proverbs 31: 10-31</div>
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<i>Happy Mother's Day!</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>This story is an excerpt from my new devotional book for women. A great Mother's Day gift. Find it here on Amazon: </i><i style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://amzn.to/2uMiqu1" style="color: #954f72;">https://amzn.to/2uMiqu1</a></span><br />
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-31186884726459660392019-04-24T10:31:00.002-07:002019-04-24T13:13:04.609-07:00Star Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Psalm 147:4</div>
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This morning while still in my jammies, I snuggled in my comfy chair to enjoy my cozy reading nook with my Bible in hand and opened. As though from the heavens, I heard this loud and clear. “What do you want?"</div>
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I could almost feel the vibration of God’s voice speaking to me through His Word. Reading in John Chapter 1, I wondered why Jesus turned around and asked this question to the two disciples who followed behind Him, "What do you want?" Don't you wonder, too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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A few years ago (when I had no fear of walking my neighborhood in the dark) I walked outside to check on things before bed. The quietness eased my soul as I enjoyed stars twinkling overhead as if they danced to music. God hung each one and even named them. The wind rustled the bushes, and nearby barking dogs aroused my curiosity. Unafraid of the darkness, I opened our gate and checked around. Looking back, I wonder what I was thinking. If there had been a danger I would have found myself smack in it–– unprotected and alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Nevertheless, I walked the road and found relief that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At the time, no streetlights illuminated the road (only the sparkling stars) and neighbors were few and far between. Bolivia seemed to be untouched by things going on around the world like theft and murder. Times changed. The internet arrived, and yes, TV programs from outside this ancient Quechua culture flooded young minds. In our neck of the woods, outside the city lights and noise, we’d seldom seen or heard of these dangers. Those days are gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But, that night, one thing robbed my peace and safety––the wind. While on the road, a rushing wind blew our gate shut with a bang. We had no doorbell because kids rang it then promptly ran away––usually at 1 am. Doorbells were a novelty (and still rare) in this remote village and hard to resist. We didn’t hesitate to disconnect the modern menace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Alone, unafraid but frustrated, I jumped with a kangaroo spring to my feet and screamed for help at the top of my voice until hoarse. Why I don’t know. My husband had long been asleep upstairs, and even if he’d been awake, he would not have heard my voice from afar. So what to do? Our wall was too high to scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, to enter from the back of the property was out of the question. We only had barbed wire around the property, but I’d have to climb a path of bushes and thorns and who knows what animals or creatures lurked in the dark. So I decided to walk the dirt road to our classrooms and attempt entry from there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The darkness hugged me, and the brisk air chilled my bones. Garbed with only my PJs, I walked the lonely road. Under the stars, I suddenly became aware of footsteps behind me. Who walked behind me? What did they want? A moonless night left no clue to the one who followed me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Out of the dark, starry night came a Spanish speaking voice. “Dona Margarita, what are you doing out here in the cold and dark all alone?” Relief, a familiar voice. Hernan, a teen boy who attended our classes, shined his flashlight. He walked to his home up the mountain each night after special classes at the school near us. We approached our classrooms, and his robust voice awoke our ministry helpers who lived near our classrooms. They opened the gate, and I basked in the safety and comfort of home.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Two disciples were following Jesus when he turned and asked the question. “Turning around, Jesus saw them and asked, “What do you want?” (John 1:38 NIV).</div>
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At first, I’d thought about shouting to the follower behind me, “What do you want?” But, I hesitated. Jesus didn’t hesitate to ask His followers what they wanted. We shouldn't hesitate to tell Him what we want. That dark, cold, and starry night, I asked God for an open door and thanked Him for how it opened.</div>
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Maybe Jesus asked the question of His followers because He wanted to know if they were following out of curiosity, personal gain, or purposes other than His purpose. Yes, He already knew, but did <i>they</i> know? Are we following Him for our purpose to advance our cause and or to accomplish His purpose and cause? <o:p></o:p><br />
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Have you thought about what you want from Jesus today? Why not make a list of those things? We can be honest with Him and tell Him what’s on our hearts. He wants us to talk to Him––but not only in our dark, scary, starry night situations. </div>
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Ponder Jesus’ words today. “What do you want?”Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-43154439412891424722019-04-21T17:46:00.000-07:002019-05-14T15:20:59.020-07:00Stop and Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In a distance, birds chirped their morning concert. Gazing at the clock, I debated––crawl out of my cozy, warm bed or watch the sunrise through the lacy curtains. The orange sun poked over the mountain, and the stars faded into the dawn. Too late to pull the covers over my head and drift back to sleep. My eyes begged to close, but my brain raced with the daily tasks at hand. Rising early would usher me into a quiet time with the Lord––I hoped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not a morning person. I prefer to be quiet in the morning except for talking to the Lord. You won't find me exercising, enjoying a morning conversation on the phone, or turning on the TV. Unless the calendar says get going out the door for an appointment, meeting, class, a hospital emergency or other work-related commitments, I'll relish the time at home. Now don't misunderstand, you won't find me on the couch. I'll be chomping at the bit to get in gear. Cleaning and laundry will most likely steal my attention from the computer that beckons me to catch up on correspondence and my writing schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Watching from afar, you'd wonder how I do it all. A mystery to me also, but I do have help––supernatural help. The word "still" doesn't compute in my thought pattern. Not unless I choose to get my Bible and head to my cozy spot in a corner of my house where I enter my God Nook. Oh, how I love that place. So why don't I rush more often to that special place? Too Busy. But, is it necessary to get to my nook in order to meet with God? What does it mean to be still?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Until we stop, we can't be still. Until our minds stop, we can't focus on the One who stopped His earthly life when He went to the cross for us. He chose us. We can stop and choose Him. Choose to stop and focus fully on Him. Then we are still. Then our soul finds rest. "My soul finds rest in God alone" ( Psalm 62:1 NIV).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For many of us, slowing down is work. It's natural for us to run, move, go, but it's unnatural for us to slow down, stop, breathe. However, it's possible to find that cozy nook anywhere--anytime, and for any amount of time. Just focus on God and nothing else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's nothing wrong with being busy, being active, being on the go––except, we often never stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Where I grew up, we had Stop and Go stores. Maybe you did too. We stopped, got what we needed, filled up our tank and our stomachs, then continued on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stop. It seems simple, but yet it's the hardest thing to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Practice these steps: Stop. Look. Listen. Breathe. Go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Take time to focus on God in your God Nook––wherever that might be. Stop for a few minutes or an hour, look into His face, listen to His voice, breathe in His majesty, and then go. But, make it a habit to stop often. Know He is God. Bask in His presence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's stop, get filled up, and go shine His light in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This blog is an excerpt from my newly revised book, <i>Dancing Like Bees,</i> now available on Amazon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Available here on Amazon at: </span><a href="https://amzn.to/2CVT957" style="color: #954f72; font-family: times;">https://amzn.to/2CVT957</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-indent: 48px;"> </span></div>
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-50000838504935386072019-04-18T05:59:00.000-07:002019-04-18T06:09:45.614-07:00Why Write?<div style="text-align: center;">
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~ Rabbit Smiles ~</div>
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While sitting at the dentist last week, I met these two little sweeties. I asked their names, and I was shocked when they began speaking in English. Their mother explained they were attending an English-speaking school in the city. By their appearance and their school, I knew they had advantages that the majority in Bolivia only dream of having. Even visiting a dentist is a privilege for most children in a developing country such as Bolivia.<br />
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When I began writing, I wrote for my grandchildren who live thousands of miles away from me. God enlarged my vision to write not only for my grandchildren but children everywhere. I know I am called to write for children. And, I am blessed to write for the privileged and underprivileged, and to those outside the borders of the United States and Bolivia. I thought my books could only be used of God in the Spanish language for Bolivian children. My vision was small, God's vision, however, is global and includes all languages.<br />
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Although children such as these––who speak English in a Spanish speaking country––are in the minority, they need to hear the gospel also. Every day God opens doors to minister to those waiting to hear of His love––whatever their age, whatever their circumstances, and wherever they live. We can speak and write words that will change lives––God's words.<br />
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Why write? For moments like these!<br />
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"People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." Luke 18:15-17 (NIV)<br />
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Now, through Worthy Words Press we are reaching children who speak Spanish only. No matter what language we speak, let's spread God's Word so all will hear the Easter story and believe.<br />
<br />Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-36439969720932660462019-04-13T09:07:00.000-07:002019-04-13T09:26:00.641-07:00Bolivia's Cemeteries and Customs<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>1 Thessalonians 4:16b<br />"and the dead in Christ shall rise first;"</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Customs and Comforts</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We had an invitation this week for a family gathering to remember and celebrate the life of a family member who died a month ago. Arriving late, we sat in the back. Everyone was wearing black and sad. The lady was a friend of ours also; we bought land from her. Everyone in the crowd was from our village or close by, all friends and neighbors. We sat on wooden benches, and huddled together as the winds whipped around us; our winter is near. The sound of children playing in a distance was soothing to all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After the ceremony, we were served a hot soup that warmed our bones, and then a delicious chicken dinner cooked in a mud oven. The aroma of the wood burning and the chicken cooking filled the air. We talked, laughed, ate, and enjoyed being together. There was sadness, but joy also, because of the hope we have in Christ that we will be reunited one day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The picture of the Bolivian cemetery above is dark and dreary, but our hope is bright like the picture below when we have Christ living in us. Whether we are dead or alive when Christ returns, we will all rise to be with Him forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wherefore, comfort one another with these words"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(1 Thessalonians 4:17-18 NIV). </span></div>
Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3400285798632400772.post-3815070425323848212019-04-06T17:49:00.000-07:002019-04-13T09:10:47.826-07:00Easter Ears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAQfIxzoxZns6kgIY-TlJ4vUPOd03UnFl3wetBHQ00GHuroa6YWYuii1WuyIEPDcvAj2efREf6BYWAwwCVENKshjmmCfyXnobP41V3XPmI8UE7Nhcfy-l0tBGTYXHIrFcca6bWpxQPYg/s1600/Christ-Faith-Easter-Jesus-Christian-Cross-3254876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="400" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAQfIxzoxZns6kgIY-TlJ4vUPOd03UnFl3wetBHQ00GHuroa6YWYuii1WuyIEPDcvAj2efREf6BYWAwwCVENKshjmmCfyXnobP41V3XPmI8UE7Nhcfy-l0tBGTYXHIrFcca6bWpxQPYg/s400/Christ-Faith-Easter-Jesus-Christian-Cross-3254876.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>He is not here; he is risen! (Luke 24:6 NIV)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">When Easter nears, I think of Easter baskets and how to communicate the Easter story to little ones. God tells us to think like children.<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">child</span>ren, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">” (Matthew 18:3 NIV).</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">In my children’s books, <i>The</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really Rare Rabbits Series</i>, the little rabbits hear someone teaching about Jesus. </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">They listen. They press their ears to the window to hear more. As adults, are we too busy to listen to God’s voice?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Do we lean our elbows on heaven's windowsills and press our ears to God’s heavenly window and listen to His voice or have we come away from the God’s window and only hear the world’s noise?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Even a child can hear the story of the cross and believe. It’s a simple message of love. Jesus came to earth to die for all that we might live with Him in heaven for eternity––if we only believe. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><br /></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Easter is a time of renewal and reflection. Let’s reflect on all Christ did for us on the cross and determine to press our ears to His window and listen to His voice on Easter morning and always––with our ears pressed like the little rabbits. He is risen!</span></span><br />
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Back Cover Blurb</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Chi Chi and his sister Fi Fi are part of a family of giant rabbits. The young rabbits live on a mountain in Bolivia where their ancestors landed with their owners, the Quechua Indians, when they escaped from Machu Picchu as the Spaniards invaded the Inca Empire in Peru.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">You won’t see them on the mountain unless you look very close, but you will hear them giggling. A very old legend tells of their unbelievable size and their truly unusual job, protecting a treasure of gold left behind on the mysterious rocky mountain by their owners of long ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Every night they sit by their fires, near where they think the treasures are buried. But, one day they hear of a new Light on the mountain that never burns out. Even though Chi Chi and Fi Fi are supposed to stay well hidden during the day, they decide to venture down the mountain to peer in the missionaries’ windows. That is when their dangerous adventure begins.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">How I know Really Rare Rabbits Exist<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">When I moved to the foot of this mountain where our mission is based, I hadn’t yet heard the legend of the mysterious rabbits that live in my backyard. Daily, I gaze out my windows at the Andes Mountains (my backyard) where sightings are rare of these huge rabbits—standing three feet tall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I doubted the legend––until I heard the rabbits giggle. The sweet sound directed me to the window only to see two of them scurry away as their fluffy, white tails disappeared into the bushes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">According to the legend, the rabbits guard the lost Inca gold on <i>my </i>mountain. Intrigued, I researched Inca history and began writing about the huge critters. Of course, my writer imagination ran wild, and they became my imaginary pets that looked over my shoulder or watched me from the mountaintop. I had to share this delightful, ancient legend––mixed with my imagination so children would have fun while learning history and Bible principles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What happens when the rabbits trek down the mountain and peer in my windows? Chi Chi and Fi Fi tell their story in my book, <i>Really Rare Rabbits Book 1</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i>The Really Rare Rabbits Series </i>on Amazon at</span>: <a href="https://amzn.to/2Hh2hnJ" style="color: #954f72; font-family: times; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px;">https://amzn.to/2Hh2hnJ</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Also available on Amazon in Spanish at</span>: <span style="color: #333333; text-indent: 0px;"><b><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></b></span><a href="https://amzn.to/2SLGEyc" style="color: #954f72; font-family: times; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px;">https://amzn.to/2SLGEyc</a><br />
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Peggy Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18056938419519161789noreply@blogger.com0