tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13027947138336305742024-02-06T19:27:19.080-08:00Love Beckonsbremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-38768160656084951342013-02-15T12:21:00.000-08:002013-02-15T12:21:48.728-08:00I've been thinking and writing lately about what it means to be a good man or woman, but the more I think about it the more I realize it's not necessarily a gender issue. I mean, for every guy out there whistling and cat-calling there's a girl who's very goal in life is to get guys to notice her. I also know there are plenty of men confident enough to support and empower strong women. Maybe it's time to be defined not by our gender, but by our humanity.<br />
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We're not so different after all. I think we essentially want the same things; to be heard, respected and loved.<br />
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We've been told men and women are opposites.<br />
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Men want respect, women want love.<br />
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Women are emotional, men are stoic.<br />
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Men want sex, women want intimacy.<br />
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The truth is I want respect just as much as my husband does. I like sports even more than he does. I love hiking and backpacking. I can "rough it" and live without a hair-dryer. I also occasionally like to watch a girly movie and dress up. I don't think being a woman encompasses who I am. My personality, interests and beliefs are what define me. <br />
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I recently watched a video series with a church group about marriage. The whole premise was the differences between men and women, how to relate to each other and understand each other. While I appreciated some aspects of the message, I constantly found myself wondering if it isn't just about the fact we are man and woman, but that we are two separate people with differing thoughts, ideas and needs.<br />
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If I want to be a good wife and have a strong marriage, I don't need to learn everything there is to know about men, I need to understand my husband. I need to know what he's passionate about, what makes him upset, what being loved means to him.<br />
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Marriage isn't so much about men and a women learning to live together, it's about two <i>people</i> learning to live together.<br />
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If men where all the same then it would makes sense to study their gender in order to learn how to be a good wife. Obviously they're not all alike, just as women are not all alike. It's strange to me that we buy into this idea of gender roles so wholeheartedly. There have been situations when I've felt trapped by stereotypes and expectations of my gender and I feel unable to be myself. Sometimes I just want to hike a mountain or watch a football game, not go shopping or sit around talking about (or in my case listening to) birth stories. I know other women who, like me, feel somewhat out of the loop within their community of friends and/or church because they don't fit the bill of how a woman should think and act. <br />
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I feel like so many relationships, not just marriage, could be stronger if we stopped trying to make people fit into the roles we think they're made for. I know men who've felt ostracized for being sensitive and experienced major pressure to be "manly" or "sporty". I know women who've felt looked down on because they choose not to have children, they're made to feel like part of their womanhood is broken or will never be fully realized.<br />
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What if we accepted that we are unique individuals with our own ideas and beliefs regardless of gender?<br />
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Yes, genders were created to compliment each other, but that can't happen until we stop trying to force people into preconceived notions of who and what they are.<br />
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My spirit has been bruised and damaged too many times by messages of how to be a Godly woman/wife/mother that conflict with my personality. Early in our marriage Josh and I had arguments because of unmet expectations of each other. We'd been told from books and well meaning mentors exactly what a husband or wife should be like. Josh was surprised to find out it wasn't my life's dream to clean the house and cook meals every day. As we began to understand each other better we grew to love the things that made us different than what we'd expected. Josh likes that I'm not high maintenance (usually) and I appreciate that he has a soft side and writes me love letters and tears up at sad movies. (Don't tell him I told you! He's also hard working and strong and drives a truck!) <br />
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I can only speak from my own experience, but growing up, the church communities I was in seemed to put a lot of emphasis on being a "Proverbs 31 Woman". My interpretation of Proverbs 31 was that being a good woman meant being a wife, a mother, a morning person, a cook, having a clean house, always being happy and patient, never getting discouraged, being good at everything. Essentially, I thought it meant perfection. As a young wife I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect. It didn't work. I was just more discouraged and imperfect than ever. Plus, what about women who aren't married, don't have kids or can't have kids? Where do they fall in the spectrum of godly women? <br />
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Then, in Bible school, I actually studied Proverbs and made a crazy discovery: The Proverbs 31 woman isn't real. That's right, she's fiction. The author says in verse 10, "An excellent wife, who can find?” and then goes on to make a list of desirable characteristics. He's not describing his wife, he's describing his dream wife. (It's also an acrostic poem using the first through last letter of the Hebrew alphabet.) The characteristics described are admirable ones wives should strive for, but that probably no one woman can fully encapsulate. <br />
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*Side note: if Proverbs 31 is the Bible's portrayal of a godly woman, where is the male equivalent?*<br />
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Now lets think about some of the real life, flesh and blood women of the Bible:<br />
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Rahab, a prostitute.<br />
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Sarah, who doubted.<br />
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Ruth, who worked the fields.<br />
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Leah, who was unwanted.<br />
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Esther, became queen.<br />
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Hannah, who begged and cried and never stopped praying.<br />
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Mary Magdalene, who stayed at the cross.<br />
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These are a few of the women who are honored in the Bible. They struggled, sometimes failed, found redemption and were far from perfect. <br />
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I only say all this because it's easy to get wrapped up in the idea of gender roles and being a good man or woman, when really I think it just creates a lot of pressure, confusion and frustration. Ultimately, in order to be a man or woman of God, we don't need to subscribe to a set of rules and expectations based on gender, we only need to follow the example of Jesus.<br />
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Jesus didn't tell Mary to get back in the kitchen with Martha, he honored her desire to listen and learn. Jesus himself washed the feet of his disciples. And wept. He didn't go around acting tough and demanding to be served and respected. Let's start emulating our savior and value our differences. We were not all created exactly alike, we are men and women, but we are individuals. We are all human. <br />
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<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-42899200645504029332012-09-14T12:24:00.000-07:002013-05-28T10:08:25.232-07:00This Blog Is MovingCheck out the new site at /<a href="http://lovebeckons.wordpress.com/">http://lovebeckons.wordpress.com/</a>.<br />
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Thanks!bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-72454637888611486752012-09-10T13:39:00.002-07:002012-09-10T13:53:36.779-07:00Some Thoughts On Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWxQSJjCLceC633vO4_lhM3lpH4qSUrzyglETKj4oZLel8m0yDoLcFxiP2j5ajdDo8ON_osMrPMJ5NfTo90DpMgGaSKusmewwMlu0D9BTphw9Ws5P1Vhu2EHdluh1sZOcitOUyuGFR6E/s1600/DSC_0018-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWxQSJjCLceC633vO4_lhM3lpH4qSUrzyglETKj4oZLel8m0yDoLcFxiP2j5ajdDo8ON_osMrPMJ5NfTo90DpMgGaSKusmewwMlu0D9BTphw9Ws5P1Vhu2EHdluh1sZOcitOUyuGFR6E/s320/DSC_0018-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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I'm about two weeks into my personal challenge of writing daily for a year and I've already failed. This challenge is so much more difficult than <a href="http://bremariebrown-lovebeckons.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html">not buying clothes for a year. </a><br />
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This challenge is about battling some inner demons, those lifelong companions, Doubt, Fear, Rejection and Procrastination.<br />
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This is about me creating something and putting it out for anyone to see. And that's scary.<br />
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It's about self discipline and making time to get better at something, just sitting down and doing it. <br />
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So, I failed to write anything for a couple days, but I'm not giving up. My sister-in-law gave me a book last weekend called, <i>Art & Fear</i> by David Bayles and Ted Orland. I've only read the first chapter and I'm already inspired. The book is about why we create art and the fears that accompany most artists.<br />
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Here are some personal revelations made while reading <i>Art & Fear </i>and thinking about why I need to create:<br />
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<b>Imperfect people create art. </b>We have a driving desire to take the broken bits of life and pour them into our work, turning them into something beautiful. Our art will suggest our flaws and weaknesses, but overcoming the obstacles inhibiting us from creating will be a source of strength.<br />
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<b>Failure is inevitable.</b> It's okay to fail, it's how we learn and it's a risk that must be taken in order to succeed. <br />
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<b>What matters most is the process of creating. </b>For me the experience of writing is what shapes my art as I process through my emotions and find my voice, I'm learning about myself.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq"><blockquote class="tr_bq"><blockquote class="tr_bq"> “To be an artist is to believe in life.” ~ Henry Moore</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><br />
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bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-8763132292537917952012-08-30T09:37:00.001-07:002012-10-26T16:21:41.025-07:00Final 30th Year Challenge Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is my 31st birthday. I've completed my 30th year challenge of not buying clothes for one year. It was difficult sometimes, but to be honest, it was a lot easier than I anticipated. Here are a few lessons learned:<br />
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<b>Intentionality.</b> I know I mentioned this before, but it's the number one lesson I've learned this past year. I've become much more intentional with how I live. Not that I don't still enjoy being spontaneous once in a while, I do, but I mean intentional in a broad sense of living with a purpose. I base my consumption more on <i>need</i>, than on <i>want</i>. I make sure it will serve a purpose, sometimes that purpose is simply spending a fun day with my family (we all need to have fun now and then), other times it's strictly necessity.<br />
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<b>Simplicity.</b> I admit that in the past when I had spare time I would sometimes fill it by going shopping. It was a waste of time, truly. This last year, whenever I had spare time it was spent, writing, reading a good book, working in the garden, hiking, exercising or going to the beach with my family etc. All of these simple things brought me much more satisfaction than a new outfit ever did. <br />
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<b>Embracing Imperfection.</b> Since I couldn't replace damaged clothing, I learned to be okay with a little stain or hole in a few articles of clothing. I learned to not care so much. This attitude overflowed to other aspects of my life as well, like standing up for what I believe in, whether or not it's popular within my circle of community. We are all imperfect people with different life experiences and opinions and in the end I don't care how I look, as long as I can extend God's love to the people around me. Embracing imperfection has helped me stop comparing myself to others and accept myself the way I am. It's incredible the amount of freedom that comes when you don't care about trends or about making everyone and their mom like you.<br />
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Here's a few of the things I did buy this last year:<br />
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<ul>
<li>New sock and undies. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I bought myself a red beaded necklace for Easter, because I wanted a pop of color to celebrate the day.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li> A couple weeks ago I bought a new skirt in preparation for a wedding reception I'll be attending the day after my birthday. I won't wear it until then.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li> A new pair of sandals ($3 on sale!) because our kitten decided my old ones were a good chew toy. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li> Yesterday, I bought a new pair of shoes because all of my old pairs (except for my boots) are falling apart, literally.</li>
</ul>
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So, that's it. In the last year I managed to only buy a few pieces of clothing and mainly out of necessity. <br />
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Now, it's another year and I've decided to give myself a new challenge. I think it's important to continue to learn as we age, I never want to become stagnant in life, so this year my challenge is to write everyday. I thought of the things I'm passionate about and where I want to improve and landed on writing. I enjoy it and hate it at the same time. I enjoy the result of writing, i.e. processing my emotions and having a record of things I've learned and experienced, but I sometimes hate the actual sitting and writing part. This challenge is about self-discipline and trying to be better at something. I'm sure there will be days when I only pen a couple lines in my journal, but nonetheless, I'll be saving a thought or idea for when my creative juices are flowing.<br />
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<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-35410961594503287912012-08-16T09:16:00.001-07:002012-08-16T09:25:19.372-07:00Who Do You Think You Are?The last few weeks have been stressful. I keep finding myself in situations I can't control and it makes me crazy. (I might be a <i>tiny</i> bit of a control freak.) It's not even big things, just a culmination of many little things.<br />
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Whenever life gets stressful, Doubt arrives, as if on cue, to remind me of all the times I've failed. It's the voice of Doubt that keeps asking, "Who do you think you are?" <br />
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Who do you think you are to be a mom? You don't have the patience. <br />
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Who do you think you are to be a wife? You're not enough for him.<br />
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Who do you think you are to be a youth leader at church? The kids won't even like you.<br />
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Who do you think you are to write about your life? Nobody cares what you have to say.<br />
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These thoughts followed me for days, hanging around in the corners of my mind like a cobweb just out of reach, growing and collecting dust. Doubt continued to whisper into each new frustrating situation, "You can't do this. Why are you even trying?"<br />
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Yesterday morning, Rosie and I decided to go to the river near our house to swim. Magda is away at camp, so I let Rosie pick the morning activity. She wanted a picnic at the river. We spent the morning swimming, snacking, picking blackberries, skipping rocks and laying on our towels reading. It was one of the most peaceful and relaxing mornings I've had in a long time. At one point, Rosie was in the water with her goggles trying to catch minnows and I was just sitting, taking in the sun and the beautiful landscape when I felt a different whisper, deep in my soul, "This is who you are. A mom who teaches her child to love nature."<br />
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Those words were a fresh wind, blowing through my heart and mind, clearing away the cobwebs. They poured over my soul like a wave, filling up the cracked and broken places. Over and over I felt God's soft voice.<br />
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Who do you think you are? You are my creation.<br />
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Who do you think you are? With me, you are enough.<br />
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Who do you think you are? You are mine.<br />
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Last night before bed, Josh was reading <i>The Inner Voice of Love </i>by Henri Nouwen. He handed me the book and said, "You should read page 113". This is what it said:<br />
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<blockquote>
<i>You are constantly facing choices. The question is
whether you choose for God or for your own self-doubting self. You know
what the right choice is, but your emotions, passions, and feelings keep
suggesting you choose the self-rejecting way.</i></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i>The root choice is to trust at all times that God is with
you and will give you what you most need. Your self-rejecting emotions
might say, “It isn’t going to work. I’m still suffering the same anguish
I did six months ago. I will probably fallback into the old depressive
patterns of acting and reacting. I haven’t really changed.” And on an
on.</i><br />
<i>It is hard not to listen to these voices. Still, you know that these
are not God’s voice. God says to you, “I love you, I am with you, I want
to see you come closer to me and experience the joy and peace of my
presence. I want to give you a new heart and a new spirit. I want you to
speak with my mouth, see with my eyes, hear with my ears, touch with my
hands. All that is mine is yours. Just trust me and let me be your
God.”</i><br />
<i>This is the voice to listen to. And that listening requires a real
choice, not just once in a while, but every moment of each day and
night. It is you who decides what you think, say, and do….Choose for the
truth of what you know. Do not let your still anxious emotions distract
you. As you keep choosing God, your emotions will gradually give up
their rebellion and be converted to the truth in you.</i></blockquote>
I hadn't told Josh about my experience at the river. I don't know why he thought I should read that page. But, God knew my heart. He is faithful to meet us where we are.<br />
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<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-52547804050980384832012-07-25T16:33:00.001-07:002012-07-25T21:28:54.985-07:00Strange and Beautiful People<br />
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The other day while my husband drove through town, I sat in the passenger seat and just looked out the window. I really looked though, like at people. It's easy for me to space out and not see people, they just blend into the background noise of my day. As Josh drove through town I saw a man helping another man jump start his car, a man comforting a crying woman, friends greeting each other with a handshake, a woman speaking to a homeless man with a cardboard sign. I saw people making connections. Touching and smiling and speaking.<br />
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I decided to keep doing it. People watching that is. The last time I went for a run through my neighborhood I went past a man on horseback who nodded his cowboy hat to me. A little, pigtail haired girl ran out of her house, screen door slamming behind her, with a squirt gun in hand to spray and chase a squirrel up a tree. An older woman on a bike, wearing a football helmet and basketball shorts over her sweat pants, while riding without using the handlebars and swinging her arms as though she were sprinting. Several people were talking and laughing together while working in a community garden.<br />
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Other interesting sightings around town include: a man on a bike wearing only a speedo, a gentleman in a coffee shop with a long braided beard who's intently reading Byron's poem's and occasionally lets out a loud sigh or "Wow, beautiful." A woman belly dancing on the sidewalk while she waits for traffic at the crosswalk and a very large man wearing a tutu and riding a tricycle. The lovely woman at the farmer's market with the most amazingly, long dreadlocks I've ever seen. The waiter at our favorite restaurant who speaks with a Australian accent one minute, German the next and is fully Irish by the time we leave. <br />
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All this people watching has made me realize that people are strange and beautiful at the same time. <br />
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People make life interesting and I enjoy the company of others, but often I tend to be solitary and prefer silence over constant chatter. I have two girls who love to talk. All the time. Sometimes, when they're talking, I just look at them and wonder if they ever get tired of moving their lips. They don't.<br />
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Being a mom has forced me into situations where I have to meet new people. My girls are so different from me, they're social and thrive in big groups of people. They have all these friends who have parents that I'm supposed to meet and hang out with during play dates. It's not that I'm socially inept (not completely anyway), it's just that I don't do fake and I'm not good at small talk. Most people are fine with that, but others get nervous when the conversation starts to ebb. Truly though, most people I meet are kind and funny.<br />
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Still, there are times when it's so hard for me to like people. Can I just be brutally honest for a minute? Usually the people I struggle the most to connect with, are other Christians.<br />
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I'm sorry if that's offensive, I'm just trying to write how I feel. I'm not talking about all Christians, I'm talking about a few. You know who I mean, they keep everything surface level and think they can wipe away a painful situation with a verse or a phrase, "If it's not alright, then it's not the end!" They're convinced that their way of loving and worshiping God is the best and only way. I visited a church once where someone said from the stage that "if you're not jumping and dancing in your worship, you might as well go home because God doesn't want your half-hearted worship". Really? Someone who worships quietly could very well be worshiping just as much as the person dancing and doing back flips for God.<br />
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I try not to be judgmental and mostly I'm fine with weird people, ( you pretty much have to be okay with weird in order to live in Oregon ) but some days I'd rather not be around people. Maybe I'm easily discouraged, but when people who claim to love God act as though they don't love anyone except others just like them, it makes me want to move to a cabin in the woods. I'd isolate myself and pretend nothing is wrong with the world.<br />
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I recently read the book <i>Sacred Pathways </i>by Gary Thomas, about discovering the way you best relate to God, your "spiritual temperament". In the book he describes nine different temperaments, some people are Caretakers, Contemplatives, Ascetics, Activists....but I'm almost entirely a Naturalist, meaning I experience God the most while alone in the woods or at a river or the ocean. Learning this about myself is good and gives me permission to take a break once and a while and be alone in creation, but it also becomes a temptation to want to be alone a lot. In some ways Jesus was a Naturalist, he would often go to a garden to pray and once spent forty days alone in the wilderness praying and fasting, but he also spent most of his life with people, caring for, teaching and loving people. <br />
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In order to love people you have to spend time with them. In some ways I'm good at caring for people, I can get behind a cause, be an activist and bring attention to a problem and help be part of the solution. I care about injustice, what's hard is caring about the ones who are the problem. When people choose not to care about others or are downright mean, all I want is to move to that cabin and hide. Here's an excerpt from my journal entry the other day:<br />
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<i><span class="text Eph-5-1">Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.</span> <span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">Ephesians 5:1-2</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">I'm learning more and more that in order to reflect Christ, I must love people. I'm not always good at that. I can love the down and out, the oppressed, but what about the oppressor? What about the people I find myself at odds with? Jesus loves all people. He died for us all. His salvation is available to all.</span></i><br />
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<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">Jesus loves everyone<i>.</i> That means I should love everyone.</span><br />
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<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">Jesus loves rude Christians.</span><br />
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<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">He loves the guy who ran a red light and flipped me off when I honked.</span><br />
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<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">He loves politicians. <i> </i></span><i><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"> </span></i><br />
<i><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"><br /></span></i><br />
<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">He even loves me.</span><br />
<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"><i> </i></span><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"> </span><br />
<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">Jesus loved the man on the cross next to him who had presumably committed a violent crime. He promised him salvation. <i> </i></span><br />
<i><span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290"><br /></span></i><br />
<span class="text Eph-5-2" id="en-ESV-29290">Unfortunately, I can fall into my own category of "rude Christian". It's a constant internal struggle to be Christ-like towards people who claim to love God, but are apathetic to the plight of others. And yet, I can be just as oblivious. I'm ashamed to admit all the times I ignored an opportunity to help someone out because I was in a hurry. </span><br />
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<span class="text Eph-5-2">Here's a thought: let's love each other. Let's reach out and be open minded about each other's point of view and realize we all come from different backgrounds and that in the end I don't think it's going to matter how we look or dress or how we worship. In the end all that matters is if we loved. If we claim to love God then lets agree to love people. All people. I think we'll be surprised at how beautiful people truly are.</span><br />
<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-30383592257911486962012-06-15T19:58:00.000-07:002012-10-26T16:39:04.194-07:00The Lie Called "Perfection".<i> The topic of self image and our society's objectification of women is something I'm passionate about. Even more now that I'm raising two girls. I might eventually write more on the topic, but direct it towards men. </i> <i>For now, this post is mainly directed at women.</i><br />
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As a teenager, I was a crazy perfectionist. Okay, sometimes I still am, but I'm working on it. I used to care way too much about what others thought of me.<br />
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I'd worry that I'd say the wrong thing, so I wouldn't say anything. <br />
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I had been convinced I was "uncool", so I became obsessed with trying to become cool.<br />
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I was scared to death that people would discover how weird I truly was, so I tried to be someone else.<br />
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I hated telling people I was home schooled because they automatically expected me to be, smart, nerdy and socially inept. I never believed the part about being smart.<br />
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All this accomplished was people thinking I was stuck-up because I wouldn't talk to them, wasted hours trying to look a certain way, the pain of not being myself around my peers and a messed up sense of self worth.<br />
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I wish I could tell my teenage self how trivial perfection is in the long run. I wish I would have known then what I know now. Perfection is not real. It's a lie. It doesn't exist. Our society would have us think perfection can be bought in a bottle or in the department store. Countless lives are being wasted trying to achieve the perfect image. I heard a statistic the other day (I can't remember the source, I heard it on the radio.) that said a third of women would trade their IQ for larger breasts. Seriously? That's deplorable. Heartbreaking. Is that what we've come to? Wanting to be defined by our looks? Wake up women! We are worth a hell of a lot more than that.<br />
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A couple years ago, I worked in the beauty industry doing hair and I can't tell you
how often I heard women complaining about their looks. They'd pick
themselves apart saying, "I don't like my nose", "I don't like my hair", "If I could just lose a few pounds...". Not only is this attitude sad, it's unattractive. <br />
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I'm not saying we shouldn't try to look nice, I wear makeup and style my hair (most days anyway) and I exercise to maintain a healthy body. I just don't think a woman's image is what should define her worth. The most beautiful women I know are not models. They're real people with hard jobs, they're mom's, wives, students. They're not perfect and that imperfection is what makes them most beautiful. They've lived through incredible experiences, good and bad. They're strong.<br />
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The most beautiful women I know are confident women.<br />
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They're confident that they are enough. They're comfortable in their own skin, they wear what they like and don't chase trends or spend all their time and money trying to conform to the world's standard of beauty. Their beauty radiates from the inside. I truly believe that confidence affects your outward appearance. <br />
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Learning to like and even love myself was a hard lesson for me to learn. I used to be so insecure, I remember several times as a teenager, hiding in the bathroom at church because one of the boys in youth group made fun of my hair or my clothes. I took everything so personally, I hadn't figured out that teenage boys can be jerks and not to take what they say to heart. One particularly bad Sunday of hiding and self-loathing, my dad took me aside and gently reminded me of one of the older ladies in our church who was currently being treating for cancer, "She's here today even through she's sick and losing her hair and possibly doesn't feel very pretty." He went on to tell me he thought I was beautiful and that if God loves us like it says so many times in the Bible, then we must learn to like ourselves and be grateful for the way he made us. I'm quite certain he also had a stern talk with the boys and/or their parents. My dad can be scary when he needs to be.<br />
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That talk with my dad was the first time I thought about the fact that not liking myself was sort of disrespectful to God. Like telling an artist that their creation is ugly.<br />
Of course, I'm not perfect, I'm a flawed human just like everyone else, I've just learned (and am still learning) to like my physical attributes, talents, interests and life experiences. Even the weird ones. <br />
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When Josh first asked me to be his girlfriend, he told me that in order for us to be together I had to believe him when he told me I was beautiful.<br />
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I think we often fall into a habit of being self depreciating and rejecting or minimizing compliments. Learning to believe others when they tell us we're good at something or that we're beautiful takes a change of mindset. Society feeds the mindset that image is everything and women are objects. We hold ourselves to an impossible standard. For me that change was a long process, but thankfully I have an amazing husband who doesn't need or expect perfection, he just wants me to be true to myself and be confident in who I am and what he believes me to be.<br />
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Women, let this be a lesson. Any man who says you aren't good enough or doesn't like you, unless you look and dress a certain way, is not worth your time and effort. If only my teenage self had believed this simple truth.<br />
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A few weeks ago, my 12-year-old daughter came home from school and told me the boy she shares a desk with had called her fat. Turns out it was not the first time he'd been mean to her. I saw the pain in her eyes and felt the unspoken questions, "Am I good enough? Am I pretty enough? Is something wrong with me?" Two things happened at that moment. First, the mother bear in me reared up, I wanted to protect her. (Later, I called the school and made them aware of the bullying and made sure the boy would no longer share a desk with her.) Second, I made a decision to never complain about my own appearance or degrade my abilities in front of my girls. I can tell them they're beautiful, talented and smart a hundred times a day, but they'll never believe me unless they know I believe the same about myself.<br />
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Ladies, lets start being the women we want our daughter's to be. I pray that my girls will be strong and self assured, I want them to believe they are beautiful even if someone tells them otherwise, but that will never happen unless I'm their example of a strong and confident woman. <br />
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Every time you call yourself fat, your daughter becomes more aware of her own weight.<br />
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When you say you hate your hair, she wonders if her own is pretty or not.<br />
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When you call yourself dumb, she second guesses her own mind and abilities.<br />
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I don't want my daughter's role models to be actresses or women on magazine covers, I want their role model to be me. I hope they look up to real women, like their Nana and Grandma, their Aunties and my friends who are all beautiful in the true sense of the word.<br />
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Women, lets stop being our own worst critics and start demanding the same respect of ourselves as we do from others.<br />
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And trust me, life is so much better when you stop trying to be perfect. As I get older I've learned to embrace my inner nerd, to just laugh when I'm clumsy, accept the fact that I'm weird and just have fun.<br />
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The first time I visited Uganda, one of my friends there, Simon, greeted me once by saying, "Bre, you are looking so fat today!" When he saw the look on my face he rushed to explain, "I'm sorry, I think in your country that is an insult. In Uganda, when we say you look fat, it means you look healthy and strong. It's a compliment". Another common Ugandan compliment is to tell someone they look "smart". I think in western culture if you told someone they looked smart, they might think it was code for, "you're a super nerd".<br />
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I have to admit, there is something refreshing about a culture where the kindest praise a woman can receive is to be told she's smart, healthy and strong.<br />
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<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-89802531506215963392012-05-23T21:08:00.000-07:002012-05-24T07:52:32.348-07:00Things you should NEVER say to foster or adoptive parents.This is a bit of a rant, but please bear with me. Lately I've picked up the mantra "Some people just shouldn't talk" and repeated it to myself and my girls whenever we encounter insensitive people. Which is decently often.<br />
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I'm a foster mom. My girls have been placed with my husband and I permanently, we hope the court will eventually allow us to adopt them. Whatever the legal system says, we are a family. The girls call us Mom and Dad, we refer to them as our daughters. We live together, we have arguments and issues, we love each other. We're a family.<br />
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Technically, if Magda and Rosie were our biological children, Josh and I would have been 18 years old when Magda was born. Also, they are partially Hispanic. The girls' little brother, Isaiah, lived with us for 1 1/2 years before he returned home to his biological dad and he's especially Hispanic looking. This is where a lot of people get hung up. We look young to have a 12 year old and the kids don't look like us.<br />
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And people say things. Out loud. Stupid things.<br />
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One conversation I had while at the bookstore with Isaiah went like this:<br />
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Man hears Isaiah call me "Mom", does a double take and says, "You're his mom?"<br />
Me: "Yes." <i>You just heard him call me "Mom", congratulations on being a genius.</i><br />
Man: "But he's Hispanic."<i> </i><br />
Me: "Yep." <i>What? Holy crap, how did that happen?!</i><br />
Man:<i> </i>"Is his father Hispanic?"<br />
Me: "Yes." <i>You're not my best friend, I'm not going to share all the details of my life. Have you never seen an interracial family before?</i><br />
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Usually, I try to be optimistic about the human race and see beauty in people, but when you say rude things in front of my kids, I'm not on your side anymore.<br />
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People need to realize that the things they say about kids and to kids have a profound affect on them. Please, think before you speak. Is it necessary to point out differences in our skin tone or our ages? The kids already feel different, must you speak the obvious? What is the point? Why can't you just look at us and see a happy family? <br />
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So, here's a little guide based on personal experience of what not to say to foster or adoptive parents and kids:<br />
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<b>Don't ask me how old I am. </b>It doesn't matter. My kids are well taken care of and well behaved, it shouldn't matter if I was a teen mom or not. I know many people who're teen parents and they are lovely and have wonderful kids. Besides, what are you hoping to accomplish with your condescending, judgmental looks and tone of voice? I can't and wouldn't send them back. How about a little support.<br />
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<b>Don't say things like, "I could never be a foster parent." </b>Either you're saying that you couldn't handle becoming attached to a child and having to let him go, or you're saying you couldn't handle dealing with children that are not yours biologically. Either way you're going to hurt my feelings or my kids' feelings. The thing is, being a foster parent is hard and I'm not some calloused robot that doesn't feel pain when a child I love leaves my home. And yes, foster kids come with issues from their past, but lets not talk about that right in front of them please. They're just people who deserve love. <br />
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<b>Never say, "It's like you're a real family". </b>We are a real family.<br />
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<b>Don't gush about how wonderful we are for taking in older kids. </b>Maybe we became parents non traditionally, but we're just parents like anyone else who chooses to have kids.<br />
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<b>I don't want to hear all your horror stories about foster care. </b>Everybody has a, "My friend's friend had a sister who was a foster mom and those kids burnt her house down", story. Save it. Especially if my girls are with me.<br />
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<b>Don't ask where their "real" parents are. </b>First of all, the term you're looking for is "birth parent". My husband and I are the ones living with them and caring for them. At this point we're their real parents. Secondly, why would you ask this question in front of the kids? Obviously, if they're in foster care there's a reason and it's not a nice story. If you're looking for a sad story to gossip about, look elsewhere. <br />
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<b>Don't ask how much money we make being foster parents. </b>This one really shouldn't require an explanation. When you ask me that in front of my girls, you're reducing their value to a number. We recently told the court that we would be their guardians and not receive monetary reimbursement if it meant less DHS involvement in our lives. It still might happen that way eventually.<br />
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<b>Don't tell me I got kids the easy way. </b>Just because I didn't give birth, doesn't mean its been easy. Raising kids is hard work no matter what. I promise I would trade the years of emotional pain of infertility, for a few hours of labor pains any day. However unconventional it may look, we're a family. You probably don't know the whole story of how we came to be, so don't make assumptions.<br />
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The truth is, I really appreciate my friends and family and how supportive they are of us. They've accepted our kids with open arms and never once questioned our motives. Hopefully, someday the rest of the world will catch up. I remind my girls once in a while that Josh and I chose to make them part of our family. I hope it makes them feel special. Even though its been a long, hard road for all of us, I don't have regrets. I wouldn't change my experiences, even the hard ones, because they led us here. <br />
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<br />bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-87243221093134185742012-04-04T20:29:00.001-07:002012-04-05T12:15:49.251-07:00Thoughts on Becoming an Activist.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been observing a curious trend lately. It seems we've all become expert critics. I tend to be an opinionated person and have to be especially careful not to be overly critical. I think the danger in being a critic is that it's easier to critique than to support. I'm a supporter of many causes. I have a hard time choosing who and what to support, there are simply too many causes in the world that I feel strongly about, but the fact is I have to do <i>something</i>. I feel it's my responsibility as a human. The truth is I could always do more, we all could. We live in a culture where it's so easy to be immobilized by meaningless distraction. We get wrapped up in our own little worlds and it can be so hard to break out. I think each of us has a lot to give if we'd just try. I certainly know I'm guilty of having good intentions, but no follow through.<br />
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Why is it that people can be so quick to criticize and reluctant to care about the hard issues? Why do we vilify people who are trying to bring awareness to the most difficult situations in the world. I'm not saying you have to subscribe to every cause you come across, but I am suspicious of people who don't subscribe to anything, or to very little, and spend the rest of their time discrediting the various causes they encounter. I think it's a red flag if we are<i> against</i> more things than we are <i>for. </i>Of course, there are causes people won't support due to moral conflicts and that's fine, but when it comes to justice and basic human rights, why are we so divided? Why do we make everything political? Maybe it's a diversion so we can remain comfortable and inactive, an excuse to turn a blind eye to the atrocities happening around us. <br />
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Here's a few things I've done on my journey to becoming less of a critic and more of an activist: <br />
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<b>Serve: </b>Doing something besides just trying to meet my own needs each day is so important. I could easily spend a day working, shopping, cooking and cleaning without ever really noticing those around me. I've been challenging myself lately to be more outgoing, little things like complimenting someone everyday and smiling at the people I come in contact with or starting a conversation with the person I'm standing in line with at the store. (I think the last one really annoys some people, so I don't push it.) This is an effort to truly see the people around me. Connecting with and serving people is a way to open my mind to the circumstances of others. It takes intentionality to see the plight of other people, whether it's the homeless man on the corner or the woman struggling to carry her groceries and lead her children at the same time, most of us are capable of lending a helping hand. I'm proud to be a part of a church family that regularly serves our community. What better way to connect with and learn about others?<br />
<span class="text Gal-5-13" id="en-ESV-29159"></span><i></i><br />
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<b><i><span class="text Gal-5-13" id="en-ESV-29159">For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.</span><span class="text Gal-5-13" id="en-ESV-29159"> </span></i><i> Galatians 5:13</i></b><br />
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<b>Travel</b>: Getting out of my own culture and learning how people live in other places has been one of the best things I've ever done. Being immersed in another way of life has forced me to rethink my preconceived notions about other people groups and situations in the world. I know it sounds cliché, but the truth is, all the times I've gone to another country to serve, I'm the one who is blessed and returns a better person.<br />
I understand not everyone has the means or the opportunity to travel to another country, but learning about another culture could simply mean befriending someone with different political and/or religious ideals than yourself. You may be surprised what you can learn from each other and how much you may actually have in common. <br />
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<b><i>“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.” -Mark Twain</i></b><br />
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<b>Read: </b>Yesterday I read a survey done by The Jenkins Group, an independent publishing services firm, that shows millions of Americans never read another book after leaving school. It also said 80% of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year. I find this tragic. I believe reading makes for well rounded people, who are less egocentric and able to empathize with the plight of others. They read stories about other people<i>, </i>become educated about situations in their community and around the world, get out of their own heads and into the head of a character in a story. Reading broadens worldviews, allows opinions to grow and evolve and inspires action and creativity. Plus, it's fun.<br />
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<b><i>"The more you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go."</i></b><br />
<b><i>-Dr Seuss, "I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!" </i></b><br />
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<b>Take Risks:</b> <i> </i>Obviously one of the best ways to get out of your comfort zone it to do something drastic. The most difficult and scary things I've done have always been the most rewarding, i.e. quitting my job and moving overseas, becoming a foster parent. These experiences shape who I am, make me more socially aware and force me into relationships with new people. I'm more open minded and willing to get behind a cause and support others because of the people who believed in and supported me when I was the one with the cause. <br />
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<b><i>"The dangers of life are infinite, and among them is safety." <i> </i></i></b><br />
<b><i><i>- Goethe</i></i></b><br />
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Now it's time for me to get off the couch and do some good.<br />
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</i>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-27385558653717228462012-02-24T14:17:00.004-08:002012-02-24T19:33:49.922-08:00Memories<i>I've been wanting/needing to record some old memories here for a while. Sometimes I fear when I'm old, I'll forget the important events and places I've experienced. I want to write down the things that stand out from important trips I've taken. The only record I have of most of my travels are some journal entries and e-mails I sent to friends and family. So, I decided to highlight some of my favorite memories, mainly for myself and maybe my kids, to enjoy later. Here's one about the six months I spent in the Philippine Islands with Youth With A Mission when I was nineteen. I attended a Discipleship Training School on board the M/V Island Mercy, a ship equipped to provide medical assistance, mainly eye surgery for cataracts.</i><br />
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I once had a dream about a clock. It was set inside a large ship's wheel or helm. It wasn't a very interesting dream, just the clock, but for some reason it stuck with me and I would sometimes picture the clock in my mind.<br />
Several months after the clock dream I arrived on board the M/V Island Mercy docked in Manila Bay. It was late, but I was given a quick tour of the ship and there, in the main gathering area or lounge, was the clock from my dream. I stopped and stood there staring at the clock on the wall for a few moments before hurrying after my guide who had continued walking down the hall and was rattling off ship terminology, explaining which side was port, starboard etc.<br />
Later, as I was lying in my bunk being lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the ship, I thought about the clock and my dream and felt such a sense of peace, feeling I was about to embark on an amazing adventure and that I was exactly where I should be.<br />
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Manila is a sea of sixteen million people and the most densely populated city in the world. A chaotic combination of cars, jeepney taxis, motorcycle taxis, shanty towns, skyscrapers, market places made from colorful awnings and full of delicious, tropical fruit, handmade crafts, chickens, pigs and children selling eggs and jewelry and fishermen displaying their daily catch.<br />
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The months we spent in Manila consisted of daily work duties, preparing breakfast in the galley at 6:00am or working in the 110 degree engine room. Five days a week we had morning worship and lectures on the aft deck, our music and voices joining with the hum and clatter of the busy pier. Many weekends we spent in the city with the street children of Manila. Playing games with them, passing out snacks or just being a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on. I always left the children feeling as though we could never do enough for them.<br />
The students and ship's crew represented several different countries and cultures, but we became a family, learning to live and work together in close quarters, teaching each other our traditions and languages.<br />
The night we sailed from Manila there was bio-luminescent algae glowing electric blue in the black waters of Manila Bay. Next morning I woke early to work in the galley, but first I slipped outside to the bow of the ship to watch the sunrise. As the sun rose over the sea I saw that we had exchanged the polluted waters of Manila for the clear, blue waters of the rural islands. Flying fish soared in and out of the waves around the bow and islands of palm trees and bamboo forests slid silently by.<br />
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Our destination was the island of Mindoro where the ship was part of a medical outreach providing dentistry and cataract surgery for people who'd otherwise be unable to afford it. Once, I had the opportunity to watch the surgeon perform the eye operation, skillfully and quickly removing the cataracts and inserting new lenses into the eyes of a woman who had been mostly blind for twenty years. As her eyes healed, she began to regain her sight over the next couple days.<br />
Mindoro is where I had my first glimpse of how beautiful the Philippines truly are. We spent our free time exploring the island, swimming in the ocean, and marveling at the pristine, white sand beaches. One night a group of us were laying on the beach after dark watching the stars and my friend was pointing out the constellations he recognized, Orion, Sagittarius the archer, and I realized the stars seemed brighter and closer then I'd ever seen before. Suddenly I felt incredibly small and insignificant, a speck of dust in the cosmos. I voiced my thought to the group and one of the girls said, "Yes, we are small, maybe no more than a speck of dust or a grain of sand, but God sees us". God sees us. He sees me. In the midst of all the chaos, the creator of the universe sees me. At the time, this thought was as profound as is was simple.<br />
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Next we sailed to the remote island of Palawan. This time a pod of dolphins joined us for a while during our sail. They played in the wake, coming close with an inquisitive eye and diving away again, like children unsure of a new playmate.<br />
In Palawan we moved off the ship and into a YWAM base in Puerto Princessa. Emotions ran high as we said goodbye to the ship and crew, our home and family of the last four months.<br />
Palawan proved to be one of the most exquisitely, beautiful places I've ever been. I loved hiking through the rich rainforests where the thick, humid air resonates with the songs of hundreds of tropical birds and the sunlight is filtered through the canopy of palms, banana trees, mango trees and bamboo. One forest we visited had families of monkeys and monitor lizards. The beaches are a mix of white sand and breath taking mountain cliffs and the bluest water. On a free afternoon, I went island hopping with a group of friends in a little outrigger boat. As we were skimming across the water, I looked down and realized the water was so clear I could see purple starfish on the sandy bottom 15-20 feet down. The water looked so perfect and inviting, it took some self restraint to not dive straight off the back of the boat. We snorkeled through coral reefs with shoals of neon colored fish, I tried my hand at surfing and mostly spent as much time in the sea as possible. My days on the island flowed together in waves of green and blue.<br />
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My team spent most of our outreach phase in Palawan. We spent a few days at an orphanage clearing brush and planting a garden. Next, we held a vacation bible school for children of prisoners, living in a prison village and held a youth camp for teenagers.<br />
Then we moved for a time to the Ransang YWAM base across the island. This is where we were truly roughing it. The base was a handful of bamboo and palm leaf woven houses with no running water or electricity. From there we trekked through dense rainforest to visit a remote tribe of people. <br />
This was the most trying part of the trip for me. The place its self is amazing and the people we met were beautiful and generous, but I'd been away from home for five months and I was beginning to feel homesick. Homesickness combined with the fact that we only had bucket showers or a stream to bath in and I never quite felt clean and the slow pace of life in this remote place was starting to affect my morale. If it hadn't been for my team of friends, I probably would've lost my mind in the jungle.<br />
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The last couple weeks of outreach were spent back in Manila at a home for troubled youth called Alay Pag-asa. It was a shock to my system going from the rural and slow paced village of Ransang to the chaotic concrete jungle of Manila. In spite of the shock, I fell in love with the kids we met there. Many of them had been street kids, but were now in school and learning vocational skills. To hear their stories of transformation from homelessness and desperation to currently striving at school and learning a trade was a wonderful example of empowerment. <br />
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It's strange writing about something that happened a decade ago, because I'm not the person I was then. I suppose none of us are the same as we were ten years ago. This trip was a turning point for me. It was in the Philippines that I began to come out of my shell and leave the young timid girl behind. There's so many more stories I could tell about the people I met and the adventures we had, learning to live with giant insects and spiritual warfare, but one of the most important things that happened was I learned how to be myself. I'm still learning really, but that's where it started. One of our speakers during the school told me I was like a bird in a cage, but the door to the cage was open and it was up to me to step out and fly away. Since that time I've had so many other major life experiences that have been beautiful and extremely difficult in turn, the cage is far away.bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-37279574326670331392012-01-09T18:52:00.000-08:002012-01-09T18:54:25.128-08:0030th Year Challenge UpdateThis August on my 30th birthday I made a decision to invoke on a one year challenge. I wanted to do something that would be difficult (for me) and would help me gain a better understanding of my own identity. I decided to go on a consumption protest and not buy clothes for one year. I'd been in a cyclical habit of just buying new clothes with each season and spending money and time I didn't need to spend, chasing ever changing trends. I wanted to step back and examine our society and culture of consumerism and how it had affected my life. I've completed four months of my challenge and thought it was time for an update. Here are some things I've learned:<br />
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<b>Embrace imperfection.</b> When I gave up chasing trends I had to accept that my wardrobe might start to feel boring, but I decided not to care. The not caring is such a freeing experience. I've spent too much of my life caring what others think and worrying about how they perceive me. The fact is, imperfection builds character and uniqueness and allows for more creativity. I tend to be a bit clumsy and so far I've ripped and stained several shirts (working with kids doesn't help). At first I'd get really upset about the fact that I couldn't replace the ruined item, but I've learned to let it go and make do with what I have. I'm getting creative with how I wear my wardrobe and pulling out old, long forgotten pieces I haven't worn in ages. It's funny how many compliments I've received about an old dress I probably wouldn't have worn again if it wasn't for this challenge. <br />
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<strong>Intentionality. </strong>I've become much more intentional about how I spend my time and money. Even though my challenge applies specifically to clothes, it's spilled over to other aspects of my life as well. I find myself thinking more about the purchases I make and making sure they're truly necessary. I still go out with friends and on dates with my husband because it's a great way to connect, but I'm less of a compulsive shopper. I've also been more intentional spiritually, spending more time reading and studying the Bible these last few months.<br />
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<strong>Better habits. </strong>Instead of shopping when I have free time, I've been working out. I bought a couple workout videos (Jillian Michels kicks my ass) and have been going on runs more frequently. As a result I'm in better shape and have more money in the bank. <br />
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These are a few things I've learned in the last four months of my challenge, I'm sure there will be more revelations to come in the next eight months. I've begun to reprogram the way I think about consumption and I hope the lessons will last a lifetime.bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-11737275233796943872011-12-07T19:51:00.000-08:002011-12-07T20:03:40.309-08:00The Heavens, Nature and God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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It's been a long year, full of ups and downs. It has been a year of new experiences, moving into a great old house on almost four acres of beautiful land. A summer at home with the kids spent exploring our new, giant yard and tending our garden and fruit trees, discovering the dozens of flowers that blossomed around our property. Camping for a week with three kids in tow. Turning 30. A bright and golden autumn full of expectations and long walks in the country. It's also been a year of disappointment, broken dreams, lost loved ones and learning that our four-year-old foster son would be leaving us and his sisters to return to his bio parents. <br />
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This morning I was standing in my kitchen looking out the window at the frozen land. The cold and the gray felt like it was seeping into my heart and I began to feel depressed. As I stood looking at the dead, winter landscape and thought about the disappointments of the year, I started feeling angry and envisioned setting something on fire or blowing something up so there could a least be some warmth and color in the world. (I frequently have melodramatic daydreams.) I also debated crawling back into bed, but then I felt a nudge in my spirit like a whisper, "Look closer". Then I noticed that freezing fog had covered the plants in a thin layer of ice. Instead of going to bed, I decided to go for a walk. I got my camera and braved the 29 degree temperature. I walked around our property realizing that the ice gave the bare trees and brown plants a remarkable beauty, though at first glance they had appeared barren and ugly.<br />
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God has a way of using using nature to fill me with a sense of awe and remind me that things aren't always as bad as they seem.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. --Anne Frank</i></div>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-30426144697673947822011-10-26T16:59:00.000-07:002011-10-26T23:12:03.480-07:00Difficulty + Pain = BeautyBeing a foster parent is the most difficult thing I have ever done. Ever. It's difficult working with the "System" and getting yanked around by people making decisions about the kids that affect our whole family and our quality of life. At times it feels like I don't have control over my own life. I feel trapped by our crazy schedule and the fact that we can't just up and drive out of state to visit family or go on a road trip. It's difficult to be spontaneous and spontaneity is something I value. It's so hard learning how to be a mother of a middle school-er, (help!) a third grader and a four-year-old, when I haven't raised them from infancy. When they're crying because of their past experiences I wish they were babies and I could hold them, rock them and simply shush away the pain.<br />
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I came to motherhood non-traditionally, but I've experienced the pain of labor. My labor didn't happen in a hospital, it happened (and is still happening) during countless hours spent in government offices and courtrooms and on my knees before God hoping, praying and advocating for the safety of three amazing children.<br />
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Yet, in the midst of, or maybe even because of the difficulty and pain there is beauty. <br />
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My life is richer in ways I'd have never known if Josh and I had never taken on the responsibility of being foster parents. I can't take credit for doing something brave, we honestly had no idea what we were getting into and during a temporary lapse of sanity decided to go for it. I don't regret it. I never would have known the beauty of laying on a grassy hill cuddled together watching shooting stars and the look of awestruck wonder on their faces. Or the triumph of teaching a child to swim and the moment they tame their fears and jump into the deep water. Or the simple, innocent beauty of being loved by a child. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Isaiah</span></span>:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I love Nora and Cody and Seth and Preston. They're my best friends. I want to share my Batman toys with them".</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rosie</span>:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Magda:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> (She wrote a poem)</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love is something precious you must value always,</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">There comes a time when love comes around,</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">so you take it, conceal it while you can,</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love hurts, yet it is a beautiful thing.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: large;">So that is love.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-39940708715979695482011-08-29T20:18:00.000-07:002012-10-26T16:16:37.422-07:00My 30th Year ChallengeTomorrow is my 30th birthday. Yes, I'm officially old. At least that's what my eight-year-old foster daughter says. For a while now I've been trying to think of a way to do something memorable and inspiring for this milestone year. Something that will benefit my life in some way. First I thought about running a marathon, but then I realized I'm terrible at running. I'm a fair weather runner and I live in a climate where it rains about eight months or more out of the year. Then I started trying to think of something that would challenge me to learn about myself and how I choose to live in this society, which led me to thinking about our culture of consumerism. Eventually I settled on the idea of a year long "consumption protest". I got the inspiration for the idea from a blog I've been following called <a href="http://onedressprotest.com/">One Dress Protest</a>. Blogger Kristy Powell has decided to wear one dress for an entire year. Here's some of what she has to say:<br />
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<i>"I have had a complicated and complex history with clothing, much like anyone else living in 21<sup>st</sup> century America. By this, not only do I mean in the ways I have identified the overcritical expectations that our society places on women and the clothes we wear, but also the perplexing friction in how those expectations make me feel about myself.</i> <br />
<i>Thus, I’ve set out to explore what it looks like to openly, publicly and boldly survey what clothes and fashion <i>mean</i> <i>to me</i>, and to investigate some of the more meaningful implications the world of clothes have for our lives and hearts." </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i> </i></b></span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">My protest is not quite as extreme as only wearing one dress, however the idea is the same. I hope to do some soul searching about what my own identity is founded in, while not buying new clothes for one year, starting tomorrow on my birthday. My goal is to find more time each day to create art, to write, to spend with my family and friends, maybe even to go for a run, because I won't be worrying about trying to put together a perfect outfit or keeping up with the latest fashion trends. I also want to put some action to all my words and ideas about simplicity. It's too easy to get swallowed up in this perception that we need to look a certain way in order to be socially acceptable. Who created this impossible standard? The media? The clothing companies themselves? It all comes back to consumerism. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I'm on a journey of discovering life outside of constantly trying to achieve this perfect image. Perfectionism is a lost cause. There are too many more important causes to be wasting time and energy and money on striving to look perfect. That doesn't mean I'll stop fixing my hair and make-up or enjoying the clothes I do own, I don't intend to become grungy. I just want to embrace my flaws and see that every scar tells a story, and accept the fact that I am unique and the way I look and how others perceive me doesn't define who I am. Satisfaction will never be discovered at a department store and happiness won't be found in the mirror. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">So, that's my challenge, no new clothes for one year. Instead focus on standing up for the causes and the people I love. Here are my self-imposed rules for the challenge:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">1. No new clothes, unless for absolute necessity. If in a few months all my jeans have holes, I'll buy some at a thrift store.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">2. Socks and undies don't count. No need to explain that rule. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">3. If I wear out my running shoes, I'll buy a new pair. I'm being optimistic on that one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I wonder what other ways you all have found to challenge yourselves and discover your true identity? I'd love to hear about it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I recently came across this video by Caitlin Crosby and loved it. Enjoy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><b><i> </i></b></span>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-53241693230764254112011-07-27T12:12:00.000-07:002012-10-26T16:15:25.517-07:00Simplicity<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> </b><i>“Simplicity involves unburdening your life, and living more lightly with fewer distractions that interfere with a high quality life, as defined uniquely by each individual.”</i> </div>
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Linda Breen Pierce<br />
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Simplicity is an idea I've been studying and thinking about a lot lately. I've been reading blogs about minimalism and and getting back to basics. Minimalism and simplicity are not new ideas, but they are counterculture. I'm just learning about this and I don't consider myself a true minimalist, but I love the idea of living simply. I've found a balance that works for me as expressed in this quote<i> </i>by Duane Elgin, <i>“The intention of voluntary simplicity is not to dogmatically live with less. It’s a more demanding intention of living with balance. This is a middle way that moves between the extremes of poverty and indulgence.” </i><br />
When I think about the things that make me most happy, I realize they're not "things" at all. In my last post I made a list of the things that are most important to me and bring the most joy: Faith, loved ones, nature, art. These are the things I surround myself with daily. Of course there are other important things, the "must haves" such as food, clothing, shelter etc, and I have to admit I love these as well. I love good food, and I like my clothes to be an expression of my personality, and I take pride in maintaining our home, but these do not define who I am.<br />
When we moved a few months ago I decided it would be a good time to implement the idea of simplicity. I went through my closet and removed anything I hadn't used for several months. It was embarrassing actually to see how much had accumulated over the years we'd lived there. The kids did the same and with some help they were able to give away a couple boxes of toys they no longer used.<br />
Part of why I like the idea of simplicity is because is makes life easier. I feel less stressed when there's less clutter, both physical clutter and mental clutter. There's less mess for the kids to clean. There's less running around to get unnecessary stuff.<br />
Also, when you choose to live simply, you are intentionally stepping out of the comparison game. I know I'm guilty of comparing my life to others and feeling like I don't live up to the cultural standard. I don't make a certain amount of money or have designer clothes. Once you stop comparing your life, you can start living it. Choosing to simplify means I'm free to be myself. <br />
Another reason is that I feel a bit more connected to those in the world who are less fortunate. Josh and I have both traveled a lot and have friends in third world countries. We communicate often with our friends and hear of their struggles. We do what we can to support their causes and by living simply ourselves we can do more for them. We're so blessed in comparison. Once you've looked poverty in the face it's difficult to justify extravagance.<br />
When we stop worrying about material things we are free to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer, like a good book, a day at the ocean, more time to intentionally love your family and friends. <br />
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<i>“The simplest things are often the truest.”</i></div>
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Richard Bach</div>
bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-84757864515881610232011-07-05T22:18:00.000-07:002012-09-19T15:58:07.709-07:00Faith, Love, Beauty.I had the opportunity to watch two great movies this week. The first, was a documentary Josh and I watched on Netflix, called The Human Experience. It's about a group of young men from New York City who all come from rough backgrounds and live together in a halfway house. They decide that they want to try to understand how other people live, so they spend a week living with the homeless people of New York, a week in Peru working with abandoned and abused children and a week at a leper colony in Ghana. In each of these places they find people who are happy simply because they have a community of people who love and support them. The people they interview have no worldly possessions and are considered outcasts of society, yet they have found happiness. They have found love.<br />
It's so interesting to me that in today's culture we are bombarded with the idea that we need "stuff" to be happy. We need big houses, nice cars, cool clothes etc. It's so easy to buy into this idea, but none of these things are what bring me happiness. I made a list of the things that bring me the most joy:<br />
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1. My faith. I find joy in discovering God and learning how to live life with him. <br />
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2. My loved ones. I love coming home to people who get up a greet me with a hugs and kisses.<br />
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3. Nature. I love being outside, whether in my yard, hiking in the woods or at the ocean. <br />
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4. Art. Creativity, my own and other people's, brings me joy. Music, visual art, and books, art conveys emotion, brings back memories and sets the mood for everyday events.<br />
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These are the things that are important to me.<br />
So, I understand how people in unfortunate circumstances find happiness. They choose it. They find the important things that come for free. Faith, companionship, love, beauty.<br />
The young men in The Human Experience quote Victor Frankl, "<span id="aptureStartContent"><span class="body">The last of human freedoms - the ability to choose one's attitude in a given set of circumstances." </span></span><br />
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<span id="aptureStartContent"><span class="body">The other movie was Super 8<i>. </i>Without giving away the story, I can say the movie was about overcoming conflict, fear and hatred and the importance of friendship, family, compassion and love. It follows a group of kids who do some remarkable things in the midst of chaos. Super 8 is both funny and touching. One of the final scenes is a beautiful gesture that's symbolic of the freedom that comes with understanding and love.</span></span><br />
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<span id="aptureStartContent"><span class="body">These movies have had me thinking about the important things in life. If you haven't yet seen them, I believe it is worth your time.</span></span>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-54141242261214768142011-06-23T15:35:00.000-07:002012-09-19T15:39:56.007-07:00Hidden BlessingsOften I go through life struggling with one issue or another and I get completely wrapped up it that issue. I let it rule my life and define my self worth. I rage against God for letting it happen. Then I blame myself for not being holy enough, assuming that it's some sort of punishment. These reactions are all futile. They only foster bitterness and more pain.<br />
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A few years ago, I experienced an especially painfully situation. My husband Josh had cancer and had to go through treatment. The treatment got rid of the cancer, but we found out later after trying for over a year to start a family, it also left him sterile. We were told we could never have children. I went through all the usual emotions and, for a while, fell into depression. I was facing the death of a lifelong dream. It felt like my life would never be complete.<br />
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When you have an experience like this you find out who your true friends are. And you discover amazing friendships in people you may have least expected. They are the people who can sit with you while you cry, listen while you vent and acknowledge your pain. They don't try to fix you and offer endless advice. They understand it may not be the best time to quote James 1:2, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds", because, trust me, "pure joy" is the last thing you are feeling at that moment. True friends forgive you when you shut down and can't hold up your end of the relationship. They are the ones who support you when you finally get up and begin to re plan your life.<br />
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Now, a few years down the road, I'm able to look back and see the hidden blessings. I see the old friendships that grew stronger and the new friends gained. My marriage is stronger for surviving the rough patches. I'm doing things now I never would have dreamed of if I hadn't been forced to rearrange my life goals. We became foster parents and have three beautiful foster children. I can't imagine a life where I never met these children. I don't know what the future holds or where they will be in the years to come, but I know my life is richer for having known them. I have learned invaluable lessons about love and the pain involved when you choose to love someone. I've also experienced the highs of love, and the joy of hearing a child call me "Mom". Josh and I have learned how to be a husband and wife as well as a dad and mom.<br />
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There is still pain and there probably always will be unless we receive a miracle, but looking back I can honestly say I'm thankful for the things I've experienced. It's allowed me to know the joy and blessings I now possess. <br />
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I'm once again brought back to the words of Kahlil Gibran in <i>The Prophet</i>:<br />
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<i>Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. </i><br />
<i>And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. </i><br />
<i>And how else can it be? </i><br />
<i>The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. </i><br />
<i>Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven? </i><br />
<i>And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? </i><br />
<i>When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. </i><br />
<i>When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. </i><br />
<i>Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater." </i><br />
<i>But I say unto you, they are inseparable. </i><br />
<i>Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. </i><br />
<i>Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. </i><br />
<i>Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. </i><br />
<i>When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall. </i>bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-57514765460350995112011-06-16T12:34:00.000-07:002011-06-16T12:34:42.484-07:00Brain Cord TheoryMicah, was our neighbor for four years from the time he was four years old till he turned eight. His family lived on the other side of our little duplex and he was always around when Josh and I were outside working in the yard. His energy, constant questions and story telling would be entertaining and annoying in turn. One day I was weeding and he came over and asked if he could help. I said if he wanted to pull weeds out of my yard, then by all means, please help. He pulled a couple weeds and then sat down next to me and said, "When I was in my mom's tummy I could read her mind.". I smiled and asked him how he remembered being in his mom's tummy. "I don't know I just remember swimming in circles a lot." He just stared at me blankly while I laughed, so I composed myself and asked him how he could read his mom's mind. "Well," he said in a matter of fact voice, "I had this cord that came out of my belly button and went all the way up to my mom's brain. That's how I read her mind." I swallowed another laugh to say I wonder what she thought about. "Mostly she thought about me. She loves me." With that he got up and went back to his house.<br />
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Some days I wish I had a brain cord that connected to God and I could say with such confidence, "Mostly He thinks about me. He loves me." The truth is that most of the time I find myself in a constant state of questioning, doubting, worrying and wondering what the hell is going on in the world and in my life. I live in such an anfractuous state of trying to be thankful and telling myself God loves people, but dealing with the endless injustice I see in the world. I feel tired.<br />
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This morning while I was weeding the garden, I thought about Micah's brain cord theory and smiled. My four-year-old foster son, Isaiah, saw me smile and came over, hugged my leg and said, "I love you Mama B". At that moment I saw so much to be grateful for and I knew with confidence, God loves me.bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1302794713833630574.post-31147815240439144482011-06-13T21:58:00.000-07:002011-06-13T21:58:36.956-07:00The Thing About Love...It's not easy. Love that is. It's terribly difficult actually, but it's the one thing that makes my life worth living. When I love and let myself be loved, there's the risk of experiencing a lot of pain and disappointment, I'm putting my happiness on the line. Yet I've learned that love holds the key to fulfillment and joy, even with all the hurt and unmet expectations. I've been learning for the last couple years that it's in the times of sorrow and conflict, when I really have to choose love over anger, that I've grown closer to being the person I want to be. The sorrow has made me more sensitive to other people's pain and to the fact that love is always better that advice.<br />
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The title of this blog comes from Kalil Gibran's book <i>The Prophet</i>. The chapter on love contains one of my favorite descriptions of love:<br />
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<i>Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love. <br />
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said: When love beckons you, follow him,<br />
Though his ways are hard and steep.<br />
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,<br />
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.</i><br />
<i><span class="text_exposed_hide"></span><span class="text_exposed_show">And when he speaks to you believe in him,<br />
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.<br />
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For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.<br />
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,<br />
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. <br />
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Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.<br />
He threshes you to make you naked.<br />
He sifts you to free you from your husks.<br />
He kneads you until you are pliant;<br />
And he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.<br />
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All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.<br />
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But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,<br />
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,<br />
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.<br />
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The purpose of this blog is for me to write what I am passionate about. When I think about it I realize I'm passionate about helping others experience love. There are countless people who have never known love, only suffering. It just takes a moment of self reflection for me to see that too often I don't look past my own needs and acknowledge the fact that everyday holds the potential to show a bit of love to someone else.<br />
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As someone who believes in the teachings of Jesus, I want to make it a point to love unconditionally just as he did. <span class="ssens">Innumerable times have I heard the title of Christianity be used as reason to condemn when really it should be synonymous with love.</span><br />
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So this is what I'm learning and writing about, how to love. I'll continue to post ideas and stories as they come to me. They may not always be about love, but that is the general theme here. Thanks for reading.bremariebrownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17801938862047410930noreply@blogger.com0