Jim Casselman--Guest Post

For those that don’t know me, I’m P. J. Casselman.  Jennifer and I met on Rachelle Gardner’s website through blog posts.  Since we’re both miscreants, as she would put it, we hit it off well.  I’m married to a beautiful woman from Denmark and am the father of two teenagers.  My day and night job is pastor of a small church in a tiny Kansas town.  The remaining time, I write.

If you’ve never seen the Dick Van Dyke Show, this blog entry will make little sense to you.   It’s all about America’s favorite team of writers in the 1960’s—Rob, Sally and Buddy.

Rob Petrie was an idea man with great physical comedy.  He was the head writer, but only the leader because the show was about him.  (More on that in a bit.)  Rob conceptualized the plot of sketches.  He’d begin with “What if…” statements and pull the other writers in.  Rob=Conceptualize.

Sally Rogers was the true leader of the crew.  When the boys couldn’t focus, she’d pull them back.  Although it may seem demeaning that she was the typist, it actually showed her leadership.  Notice what whenever she didn’t like something, she wouldn’t type and just glance at the person for something better.  Sally demanded their best.  If she had an off day, they couldn’t pull their act together.  Sally had some ideas and jokes, but her primary task was keeping on task.  Sally=Focus.

Buddy Sorrell was the one-man joke machine.  He had a ton of one-liners floating in his head and just needed an outlet.  He rarely had an idea for a sketch, but took Rob’s ideas and expanded them with his special brand of humor.  The man fleshed out outlines with dialogue and comebacks.  Buddy had a difficult time staying on track, yet his input was invaluable to the team.  Buddy=Dialogue.

When it comes to writing, each one of us has talent that leans in one direction or another.  I’ll admit it, I’m like Buddy.  Give me any scenario and I’ll give you zingers, one-liners or a heart wrenching confession, but outline and focus are my weaker areas.  Who do you more identify with—Rob, Sally or Buddy?

Joe Pote--Guest Post

My Greatest Adventure – A Step of Faith
 

A guest post by Joe Pote, Author of, So You are a Believer Who has been through Divorce: A Myth-Busting Biblical Perspective of Divorce

Adventure:  (1) An exciting or unusual experience; a bold, usually risky undertaking, with an uncertain outcome.  (2) Broadly refers to any enterprise that is potentially fraught with physical, financial or psychological risk, such as a business venture, a love affair, or other major life undertakings.

When Jennifer first invited me to guest-post on the topic of “My Greatest Adventure,” I thought this would be a fairly easy task. I’ve lived a full life and experienced my share of risky undertakings with uncertain outcomes. I could write about mission trips to Honduras, travel in foreign countries, mountain bike treks, hiking treks, camping trips, hunting trips, running a trap line, horseback riding, rock climbing, rappelling, or snow skiing, just to name a few. 

The choices are virtually limitless! Which turned out to be the problem…how to choose?

If Jennifer had asked me to write about an adventure of choice, that would be one thing. But she asked me to write about my greatest adventure!

My eldest daughter recently blogged about each day of her life being an adventure that she shares with her three little boys. I agree with her. In the unusual life of a parent of young children, just getting out of bed each morning is a bold undertaking with uncertain outcome!

But, I could hard call each day my greatest adventure. One adventure has to be greater than others, doesn’t it? Perhaps, I was thinking too small. 

Surely, my greatest adventure would be the undertaking with the greatest uncertainty, or highest risk. From this viewpoint, I should be considering major life undertakings such as marriage, parenting, divorce, a second marriage, or the start of a new career. Those were all major life decisions fraught with risk and uncertainty with far-reaching potential consequences. Some were choices I made deliberately, while others were thrust upon me, unsolicited. However, each, in its own way, turned out to be a major adventure! Like all good adventures, each led to unanticipated experiences far from what I envisioned at the beginning.

I’ve lived some adventures vicariously, by reading books written by others. I might be tempted to write these off as “not real” adventures, just imagination. Except…some of those books have led to substantial changes in my perspective of life, of humanity, and of God. Surely, opening one’s heart and mind to allow deep changes in perception is a risky undertaking with uncertain outcome!

So which of these myriad of adventures is the greatest?

Perhaps, I’m still thinking too small. Perhaps each of these adventures is but an unanticipated experience in a much larger adventure.

Some say life, itself, is an adventure. I would not disagree with this thesis. My life has certainly been adventurous! Yet, I’ve known some whose lives seemed more like one long complaint, rather than a bold, exciting adventure.

So, why has my life been more adventurous than some others? Why have I chosen to invest so much of myself into each new endeavor and each new relationship? Why have I chosen to generally anticipate positive outcomes, rather than a gloomy, dreary existence? What is the source of my spirit of adventure, and when did this grand adventure begin?

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was seven years old, lying in a sleeping bag on the floor of my bedroom…because sleeping bags are much more adventuresome than soft beds! Though I shared the bedroom with my older brother, I was alone in my room, that evening.

Having been raised in a Christian home, attending church and Sunday school, I knew who Jesus was and what He had done for us. However, I had not yet made a conscious personal decision to choose Him.

That evening, as I lay in my sleeping bag, I knew it was time. I asked Jesus to be my personal savior, to cleanse me of my sins, to make me His child, and to help me live my life for His glory. Then I lay in my sleeping bag, with tears streaming down my face, as I softly sang:

“I have decided to follow Jesus…no turning back, no turning back!”

Those tears carried mixed emotions…the joy of knowing my sins were forgiven…the sorrow of realizing the price Jesus had paid for my sins… and the conviction and determination of understanding that, though the path would not be easy, I was determined to follow Christ all of my days!

“…no turning back, no turning back!”

Growing up hearing of the heroes of faith, I knew this adventure would require sacrifice.

“Take the whole world, but give me Jesus…”

I knew it would sometimes be a lonely path.

“Though none go with me, I still will follow…”

I knew it would cost me my life.

“My cross I’ll carry, ‘til I see Jesus…no turning back, no turning back!”

At seven years old, there was a lot I did not understand. But I understood enough to know both the weight of the commitment and the joy of knowing God. I understood enough to know this was God’s adventure on which I had been invited, and the path would be of His choosing. I remember having a very clear picture of dying a martyr’s death, and praying God would give me courage and strength. I don’t know by what manner of death I will leave this world. Perhaps I will die as a martyr for Christ.
I do know, though, that I died that night, and was resurrected to new life in Christ Jesus. And every day since has been one of both learning to die to self and to live through Christ.

It hasn’t all been easy. I have suffered some great losses and mourned some deep sorrows. There have been times of hurting so bad and being so confused by circumstances that I questioned whether God even exists, or if He does how he could love me?

Overall, it has been a life filled with both great joy and deep sorrow…a life lived based on trusting that, even when I don’t understand, God has a plan and remains in control…a life where even in my moments of deepest doubt, I still turn to God for answers, even with questions about His very nature and existence.

Through it all, God has remained faithful. He has always drawn me close to Himself, giving me strength and comfort. He has always caused all things to work together for my own good…to be molded closer to His image…and to lead me to a deeper understanding of His grace and love.

Yes, it is, indeed, a Grand Adventure!  …and it is far from over!

What is Your Grand Adventure?

My name is Joseph Pote. 

I blog, at Redeemed! about Christ, living, relationships, and other topics. 

I met Jennifer through a writer’s blog, hosted by Rachelle Gardner, where we have a lot of fun joking around while encouraging each other.

Lindsay Harrel--Guest Post

My Greatest Adventure: Loving a Lawyer:

By: Lindsay Harrel

First, just wanna say thanks to Jennifer for asking me to guest post. Several months ago, I started seeing this hilarious blogger popping up on several different sites I frequented. On one such site, I saw that she was making a trek through the southwest. I mentioned that I lived in Phoenix and the rest, as they say, is history.

Jennifer and I got the chance to get together this summer (yes, she chose to come when it was BLAZING HOT). We had a great time sharing our stories and our hearts at a Starbucks for several hours. Love this lady! She’s gonna do great things for God with her stories.

***

I’m not a *super* adventurous person. I kind of like to “play it safe.” I like things to be in order. I like to keep a schedule.

To me, adventure is scary, but it has great results, great rewards.

Sometimes, adventure is a one-time event, a trip, something that’s over by a specified date.

But other times, it’s a continuous thing. A constant laying down of security, a battle you face over and over again.

So what’s my greatest adventure?

Well, as you can tell by the title, it’s loving a lawyer.

My husband and I got married when we were 21 (me) and 22 (him). We’d both finished our undergraduate programs, but Mike was taking the LSAT exam when we were engaged. So I went into this marriage knowing he wanted to be a lawyer. And knowing we’d have to get through his law school together.

© Grafphotogpaher | Stock Free Images

One of my biggest fears going into marriage was that my husband wouldn’t have enough time for me, especially since he wanted to be in a profession that is so demanding. Being an attorney takes all of someone. It’s one of those jobs that you can never feel caught up on, and that you never can stop thinking about, even when you’re home.

I knew this, yes. But there’s a difference between knowing it and living it out.

His first year of law school (which started about nine months after we got married), we saw each other for fifteen minutes a day. Dinner time. That was it. I’d work all day, he’d go to school all day, and then he’d study at night.

Then, after graduation, he got a job. (For which I’m so thankful! Seriously.) He’s a government lawyer, so he doesn’t work nearly the hours someone would work at a private firm.  But still, there have been so many times he’s had to work late. Times when I missed him so much and just wanted ten minutes together.

But God’s challenged me lately with something.

I’m supposed to be Mike’s helpmate. That means that my first job in life, after following God’s will, is to help my husband with his mission. I’m supposed to help make him successful. To make his life easier if I can.

I’m not supposed to complain and make him feel guilty when he comes home late for the hundredth time because he had a brief that was due to the court.

I’m not supposed to expect him to take off days on a whim to hang out with me, especially if he’s got a trial calendar approaching.

I’m not supposed to sigh in frustration when he starts talking about work.

Instead, I should love him. Respect him. Remember that in many ways, he’s doing all of this to support me. So that I feel safe. In fact, working hard at his job is one way my husband serves me and shows me he loves me. (And let me just say, my husband shows me this in other ways too. He’s really generous and sweet to me.)

I’m sure this will become even more difficult to remember when I’ve got kids and need a break and he’s not able to help at that moment.

And I know that if it ever became a big enough issue, I have an open door to address it with him. I can talk to him about anything.

But like I said, God’s challenged me about my attitude. I love my husband, respect the job he does and who he is.

And isn’t every adventure a challenge, really?

A challenge that shapes and changes you.

A challenge that makes you better.

The chance to love a lawyer—and not just any lawyer, but Mike Harrel—is an adventure I never deserved, but an adventure I hope to live up to, with God’s help.

Your Turn: Do you sometimes find it hard to look at the effect that attitude can have on your circumstances? What has been your greatest adventure?

Since the age of six, when she wrote the riveting tale “How to Eat Mud Pie,” Lindsay Harrel has passionately engaged the written word as a reader, writer, and editor. She holds a B.A. in Journalism and Mass Communication and an M.A. in English. In her current day job as a curriculum editor for a local university, Lindsay helps others improve their work and hones her skills for her night job—writing inspirational contemporary fiction. Lindsay lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband of five years and two golden retriever puppies in serious need of training.

Blog: http://lindsayharrel.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LindsayHarrel

Twitter: @LindsayHarrel:

Lookin' BAD!! The pre-trip vlog and reason I'm ditching Canada...

  Okay, I know I look fab-yoo-liss, but, seriously, whatever. I figured I won't care how I look in Bolivia, so why not let you experience the jaw dropping shock of how white my eyelashes are?

That, and I just look downright amusing with the glare from the computer screen. Oh, and notice the hockey gear behind me? Yeah. Not my fault. The pile of laundry on the couch is my fault. I promise that by the time you see this, it'll still be there.

Take care, please, please pray for the team, the roads can get really interesting.

Really interesting.

See you all in November!!

I'm off to Bolivia in ONE WEEK!!!

In exactly one week, I'll board a flight in Fredericton, fly to Toronto, then to Panama City and then from Panama, we fly south to Bolivia.
Oh my flaming , gigantic WORD!!! I cannot express to you the excitement!! I've waited two very long years to go back to Bolivia. I have dear friends there who I miss very much.


 Let's see? Adelia Chumacera, Hector and Steffi Mamani and Tio Felipe, just to name a few.
We're in for an extreme amount of driving on this trip. We'll probably put in about 800 miles at an average of 25 miles an hour on one lane mountain roads, full of switchbacks, stunning views and zillions of llamas. 

We'll take 1200 solar powered, fixed tuned, short wave radios to the far flung Quechua villages, deep in the High Valleys of the Bolivia Andes.  We'll sleep on floors and Thermarest mattresses. We'll eat bowl after bowl of goat stew for lunch and dinner and our own oatmeal for breakfast and bedtime snack.

 We'll be stared at, hugged, kissed and watched by hundreds and hundreds of Quechua Indians who, for most of them, have never seen any foreigners, let alone a redhead!! The kids will giggle and the elderly people will stare in wonder that outsiders cared enough to come visit. 

You want to know the best way to show Christ's love? Speak to the old, old Quechua who cannot comprehend WHY you are there. Say "Buenos dias" and shake their hand. Hold a baby. Let a 12 year old girl help you do something, anything, and say "gracias amiga" over and over. Take their picture with your digital camera and watch them blush at seeing themselves.

Love is communicated by grace, kindness, respect and a radio that brings them the message of Jesus. That's what we do.

Our teams have taken in 33,000 radios and touched as many as 990,000 Quechua people with the Gospel.

I am proud of and humbled by the chance to do this job again.

Turkey and stuffing and cheesecake, oh MY!

Good morning my peeps.
Like the new picture?
<<< It's over here. I probably just pointed at the back ground photo.

*Peeps* is street for "people".
 Seriously? Did I have to explain that to someone who builds airplane parts? I did. So sad when the old people forget meaningful cultural references.
Then again, some people were amazed I could call the USA. On my phone. Read that again. I know, right? No matter how cute you are, I'll still laugh whenever I think that you were slightly surprised to know we have PHONE LINES up here that connect to the Lower 48.

Anyway, since we've outted a few reasons to razz one or two of you...it's time to grow up and say...

Happy Thanksgiving from your devoted Canadian bloggerista!! 


Things I'm thankful for today?

-my health, even though I'm sore and stiff right now.
-my husband , even though he snores. Alot. Whoa. Dude, it's a good thing I'm in love with you, because...wow. That was LOUD. 
-my kids, even though they eat us out of house and home.
-the health of my family, especially our parents. John's dad will be 96 this Christmas. NINETY SIX???
-good friends who keep me sane. Ish. Sane-ish-like.
-good friends who love me even though I'm crazy.
-a great church and an awesome pastoral team.
-a new phase in life where writing a book is no longer a dream, but a reality.
-for writer friends who've become sisters and keep me grounded and aware of the world around me, and amuse me to no end. And a writer brother or two, too! 

And in all seriousness, I am deeply, profoundly thankful for a true and pure miracle last night. The Ford Explorer carrying my friends' three sons, and the girlfriends of two of the boys, on a long drive home from a family wedding went off the highway and flipped over, landing on the roof. The roof caved in, all four windows blew out and the RCMP found all five kids hanging upside down in their seatbelts. No, none of them had been drinking. Not even a sip.

All five ended up in the ER. They were CAT-scanned and x-rayed and then all five walked out to their parent's cars and went home, safe, sound and only slightly bumped up.

The RCMP were stunned to get five, conscious, alive kids out of that truck.

Do not, for one split second, dare to tell me that miracles don't happen anymore.

I know the names of five of them. 

I CONFESS THAT I COMPLETELY POACHED THIS IDEA!!!

I poached this idea from Keli Gwyn from her lovely website over at   http://keligwyn.com



That got me to thinking, I'm leaving, sniff, in 2 weeks....


I'm not much of a Nicolas Cage fan, but John and I decided, EONS ago, that this was OUR song...



Thank you Trisha Yearwood.

The pretty part of pain.

I have a confession to make.
I had some serious, butt whupping anger come out yesterday.
Like, you are fortunate to not be ANYWHERE near me.

Something happened that hurt, and hurt tremendously.
It was the "slap in the face" kind of hurt that makes you blink and walk backwards.
A pain that caused me to question alot about myself.

I lay in bed and wondered WHY what was said was so painful. Why did I take such deep offense to something that was not intended to go in deep and twist a few times.

I realized that even now, at the age of 49, I'm still in touch with myself at 2 1/2.

Someone dear to me said something silly, innocuous and innocent. 

It WAS poorly timed and stupid, but really Jennifer, you're pushing 50, shake it off! 

Right?
Wrong.

Very wrong.

It boiled down to a little girl who was hurting. A small child whose male parent left and never came back.
And to long buried memories of a friend who lied, lied, threatened and lied and used MY name.

How the words my friend said yesterday equated what happened 47 years ago, and 27 years ago, is something that only the rabbit trails of the human mind can justify.
This meant that, that referred to this, that reminded me of that and BAM!!
Someone's gonna PAY!

A few emails were sent and finally a very heated phone conversation. Did I mention I haven't been that angry in ages?

But... I didn't want to upset this person.
But I was angry.
But nice girls don't get mad.
But I was MAD!!!!
But I wanted to really get in some kind of serious sword play or at least throw some rocks!
I was hurt, don't I have rights???
Lines in my sand box had been drawn decades ago. They had been crossed!! How could this happen??


The friend's response to me was roughly "go ahead, fire away, we both need you to fire at will". 

So, I did.
And it went well.
But only for me.


But the best part of this whole episode was NOT getting angry and ranting and sand blasting someone I love, it was the sound that comes after the fireworks. 
When the spent gunpowder and blown up bits paper fall through the air and land softly on the cool grass.

That "ahhhh" moment when everything has settled and we knew we were okay. When the tears had dried, when the echo of harshness was answered with the sound of laughter and good natured teasing.

When the ugly side of pain was turned over and I could see the beauty that had taken root and grown quickly into an even more beautiful garden.

I don't know how long I'll have with that friend, but whatever time I have left won't be wasted pulling weeds and shoving them back and saying "remember when you hurt me?".

I'll choose to hold tight to the fresh air after the rain, when God opens His hands, shines down the sun and makes a sea of diamonds. 

The fairest of them all...edit.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?


I went to my other blog today, I don't visit much anymore, but I still try to pop in and say hello.

I used to be "friends" with someone on there who is basically blind, stinking, ridiculously over the top, loaded beyond words... RICH.

I met him through another friend, we'll call her Sarah.
Sarah died two years ago from cancer. She was 25. Her family was a royal mess, but it was big and loud and they loved her. The family was molded rather than made. Two women who were friends from their childhood years stayed together through thick and thin. One was happily married with a few kids. One flitted around the world then had a fling with a married man and left him behind after some summer fun and marriage wrecking.
She didn't know for about 6 months that she was pregnant and was completely shocked to be told she was going to be a mother. She came flying home and was grabbed into her best friend's arms and it was there that she found her place. Sarah grew up with 2 mothers, one father and 2 sets of grandparents and brothers and sisters all intertwined line a vine. No beginning, no end, just lots of love in the long, winding, loving story. 
When Sarah was in university, her "brother", (the un-related kids in the clan referred to each other as siblings their entire lives) died of cancer, and it devastated her whole, huge clan.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Sarah was diagnosed with cancer. It was all over the place. They nuked her and fried her and the doctors did everything possible to save her. She went through that TWICE.
Then was given the all clear and went back to university.

Then she got chicken pox and was in the hospital for a month.
Her birth mother came to her bedside, took one look at her ONLY CHILD and said "I can't deal with this."
And left.
For 6 weeks.
She went sailing in Greece.

Poor sweet Sarah. She was diagnosed with cancer again.
I poured my heart into that girl, as did quite a few others from the blog site. Her touchable and virtual friends loved her long and hard from all across the world.

She was friends with the rich boy, who jetted all over the world, chasing cancer treatments and surgeries and receiving all kinds of cutting edge treatments that were far beyond the reach of Sarah. This young kid also faught HARD to stay alive, but he DID have an edge.
A really impressive,expensive edge.

Don't tell me that he didn't.
Don't tell me they had the same chance.
Don't tell me Sarah wasn't angry.
She was.
She told me so.
More than once.

One day, I got an email from her telling me she'd been declared cancer free, but was still in the hospital.

She was a nanny for a posh family in Europe and missed the kids very much while she was in treatment. Her doctors gave her permisson to take the kids to a movie while on an evening pass from the hospital. They went in late. She was bald and weak and they were aided by the kind theatre staff who sat them in the back row.

She felt tired after the movie and went to bed in her hospital room. That night, after sharing a fun evening with the kids, she had a massive stroke. Her heart failed the next day, and she died.

Her body was spent.
The cancer was gone, and so was her strength.
She had literally died of exhaustion.


I saw today's post from the young man.
He had some kind of surgery and since his infection was gone, he and his wife went to Europe. 
Yes, it appears he is still sick.
I KNOW that.
But his bills are taken care of by his wealthy family.

The demon of financial worry does not haunt him. It doesn't keep him from seeking treatment. The burden of selling their house to keep him alive doesn't cloud which drugs he takes for pain.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND why my dad struggles each day with pain.
Why my biological father walked away from 3 children.
I do not understand why my friend has a chronic, painful condition that has wiped her out for months.
I do not understand why me and half my female friends are on some kind of anti-depressant.

Understand this, pay attention, listen to me...if I did not take my meds, my life would NOT be what it is now.

And yes, I sure did pray about it.

One's level of faith DOES NOT EQUATE HIS OR HER STATION IN LIFE!!!!!

Why do some people have everything and others have nothing?
Why does that kid from the blog have the resources to keep fighting and win, when others have nothing?

The thing is.
None of us deserve anything.
Neither good, not bad, none of us DESERVE one sweet thing in this world.

God GIVES us HIS grace.
He gives us His love.

Which is good.
Because I cannot afford to buy what it takes to please God. Because nothing *I* can DO can impress Him.
It is what I can accept FROM Him!
It's what HE gives ME!!!!

How cool is that?

He gives me His love, His grace and His mercy.
And He takes my life and makes it His.

I can only give it back to Him.