tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12604824587868221852024-03-14T01:41:18.445-05:00Unexpected GiftThe story of a girl and her pursuit of Jesus on the west side of central Indiana. She doesn't know how the journey ends... but because of Jesus it began. To Him be the Glory both now and forever more.Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-9135351988001262312013-11-07T15:17:00.001-06:002013-11-07T15:17:43.338-06:00Naps and Fall Leaves You would think that motherhood would create a wave of blog posts, flowing continuously and gently upon the shore of published blogging genius. Not so. Although my head is full of rampaging thoughts that I think would be invaluable to write down (mostly for posterity, and maybe as a venting avenue), I don't . As a mom, you either write, or you don't. There is really no in between. You either spend your days composing about your children's latest antics, or.... your children's latest antics are stopping you from having any sort of moment to create. Thank God for naps, and fall leaves.<br />
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The only descriptive word I could come up with to describe this fall's vast array of color, is, "Astonishing". Isn't God amazing? I'm astonished by a rusty tree-scape, spotted by brilliance of gold, red, neon orange, and luminescent purplely-red-goldy something. I am astonished by how little notice we take to the glory. Why don't we all go outside and just turn around and around, mouth gaping, eyes wide with wonder!? Why do we spend our fall days inside at all? Or at least we could knock out the west wall of our home and just put glass. Glass to be able to see out at all times. To be reminded again that we are not the center of the universe. Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-3420259260700886112013-05-08T09:12:00.002-05:002013-05-08T09:12:28.488-05:00Confessions of a love-struck Momma<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">"I've missed you my Bloggy-blog-bloggers!" (so, I have an 8 month old baby boy. Does it show?) It's been 8 months since I've posted on this blog. Any new moms relate? I don't have time for such nonsense. I'm too busy wiping snot off my son's nose, squirting him with water with his rubber ducky (just to hear peals of baby giggles), and trying desperately to find lost brain cells from all the hours of sleep gone MIA (it's an uphill battle). Plus, I'm way too in love with my amazingly cool little boy to write about it. I don't know where to begin. A friend of mine once said. "Watching my daughter is like watching my heart walking around outside my body." He's a part of me and I love him more and more each day. Right now he's having a blast playing with a new toy my friend Jiyoung gave him. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Malachi Lewis Dickinson loves everyone and everything. He hates getting his nose wiped and cries when I take him out of his favorite place, the bath tub. He loves his mommy, playing with his daddy outside, and will eat any food (and nonfood) you give him. He is a people magnet, and has only helped me in loving international woman in the name of Jesus. Actually, everyone loves him so much, that I think if I showed up on campus without my chubby little man, they would either ignore me, or demand to know his where-abouts and when he will return. I'm still waiting for my son to develop separation anxiety. I have passed him around from Indian auntie, to Chinese auntie, to Russian Babushka, to Japanese auntie, etc.... since he was 5 weeks old. "He's so beautiful and strong!" I hear quite often from my friends. I had my doubts, when I was pregnant, about how I would handle working part time and being a full time mommy. It's not easy, and I still drop balls while juggling. But, I have found balance more and more each month. As he changes, I have to be flexible and change. I'm thankful to work for and organization that is super flexible with my family's needs. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I am blessed beyond measure to have a husband who adores our son and helps me with Malachi in so many important ways. We've been trying to figure out how to help him sleep through the night. Brent will get up and change his diaper so that Malachi doesn't demand to be fed. M<span style="font-size: large;">alachi <span style="font-size: large;">roars w<span style="font-size: large;">ith anger when he see's his daddy, but he quickly calms down and <span style="font-size: large;">goes back to sleep.</span></span></span></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Malachi
didn't get the memo about our new plans for him and started teething
hard-core as soon as we started the grueling "cry it out" method. </span></span></span>Oh well, he's only a baby for a year, and 8 months have already flown by. I need to treasure every moment, even the ones when I wish I were fast asleep curled up next to my husband. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">We'll, I hear him coming to the gate. We live in a "gated community" now. We bought 4 baby gates to try to save our son from his own curiosity. Baby-proofing is no joke! Bye bye bloggy. See you in another 8 months! </span></span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-44169964706082199672012-08-29T07:28:00.000-05:002012-08-29T07:28:34.994-05:00Lady in Waiting... with puffy feet.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Waiting... those who wait upon the Lord...<br />
"Trust in the Lord and do good. Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord. Trust also in Him and He will do it. He will make your righteousness as the light and your judgement as the noonday sun. Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way, because of the man who carries out wicked schemes. Cease from Anger and forsake wrath. Do not fret, it leads only to evildoing. For evildoers will be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord, they will inherit the Land." Psalm 37: 3-9<br />
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I am waiting for my gift to arrive. It's not unexpected. But I don't know when to expect him, so again... waiting. Some friends of mine are going through hard times due to not getting pregnant in one case and the loss of an expected child, the loss of a hope, in another. These challenges puts my waiting in perspective. My baby will come. That's a sure thing. One way or another he will come. How do you think God's people felt about waiting for the Messiah? How do we feel about waiting for our Messiah to return? Do we anxiously await His arrival as anxiously as I await my son? Do we prepare his room, make meals ahead of time, pack our bag, but otherwise live life normally.... in expectancy? <br />
<br />Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-60105588707055010982012-08-19T17:09:00.002-05:002012-08-19T17:09:47.879-05:00Random rants from a Pre-mom<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why are there flies buzzing around my head? Is it my shampoo? I find it annoying. I feel like writing a gazillion things about pre-mommyhood. A lot of them are not positive, as I selfishly think about all my discomforts, hormones, bladder issues, aches and pains, constipation, etc. At the same time I feel forced to think positively, and that makes me more negative. So for now, honesty is the best policy. There seems to be so many voices saying "it will be fine", "you should be thankful", etc. I'm tired of those voices. I cannot <i><b>choose, or force myself</b></i> to have a good attitude, it's a gift of mercy from our Father, to those with willing hearts and minds. It is important to be honest and to cry selfish tears during this time, as it is good practice for later (or so I'm told). I cannot <i>make</i> this baby come, even with the "timeless classic remedies" passed on from friends and family members who swear on the Bible that they work. Holding feelings inside and plastering on a fake smile when a dozen cashiers exclaim " Are you at the "get him out of me" phase?", doesn't help anything or anyone. Many of you may disagree. I'm cool with that. I am realizing how important this part of a song is to me right now. "Weeping may last for an evening, but joy comes in the morning." I think the weeping leads to the joy. What if we never wept? Would we recognize true joy when it came? The release of honest emotion is more healing and joy releasing for me then "trying my best" to be gracious.When I can see the reason behind the madness it's great. And I know we are supposed to simply trust Him. Deep down inside, I know this will end. I do trust it will bring forth fruit. I feel that fruit kicking me fiercely and nightly. I see evidence, I feel evidence, and soon will hear the evidence. Oh the joy that will bring. I am incredibly excited about our son. The suspense is killing me. Can I just be honest? </span></span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-35058050557634960932012-07-21T20:27:00.001-05:002012-07-21T20:27:48.800-05:00The good things about pregnancyI feel inspired to write something. Maybe because I've been showered with love recently by so many people in the form of baby showers. Maybe it's simply because I have seen more answers to prayer in the last couple weeks then in the last few months. Maybe this is the last time I will start a sentence with "Maybe" and just say it's a combination of so many things. I am in the "time between times". Some of you may know that as "twilight" or "sunrise". The time right before a change form night to day or day to night. My favorite is twilight. And no it has nothing to do with cheesy vampires, so get that our of your head Twilight fans (yes, I said "cheesy"). It's generally a peaceful time of day where the sun shines through our sycamore tree on the west side of our property. It's gorgeous. But somehow, my heart is does not reflect this peace. My "time between times" is called... the last month of pregnancy. The last time I blogged I was in the exciting and energetic time called "the second trimester". It was fun. Now, I'm truly awaiting "night" or "day" to come. AKA: I'm ready for this pregancy to end. I'm over it. I'm terrified to be a mom, but it's coming... yikes!<br />
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I have yet to write out our birth plan. I have yet to set up the nursery. We have yet to settle on a name for our son. I still need to make more meals to freeze. I have yet to clean every corner of my house so I can feel like I've accomplished my nesting freakish urges. I have had some migraines from stress. However time marches on. I will soon be a mom and no longer preggo. It's time to think positively and be thankful. Here we go. <br />
The good things about pregnancy:<br />
<ol>
<li>people insist on doing everything for you.</li>
<li>They tell you wonderful lies like " you're so cute." "What a beautiful pregnant woman you are." and "your glowing". (I realize that they are sincere, but Mrs. Preggo find them hard to believe in her condition)</li>
<li>People enjoy giving you lots of fun gifts and throw parties in your honor.</li>
<li>People love this baby almost as much as you do. </li>
<li>People pray for you more :) </li>
<li>People make you food.</li>
<li>People smile at you more :) </li>
<li>People are very interested in you and your baby. </li>
<li>People are more polite and open doors for you. </li>
<li>I can feel life inside of me. </li>
<li>My husband rubs my back and swollen feet. </li>
<li>I don't have to tie my shoes (saves time). </li>
<li>I can talk to my belly without being deemed a crazy person. </li>
<li>I can eat weird things and people just smile. </li>
<li>My husband is very proud of my growing belly. </li>
<li>Everyone wants to see pictures of my belly (now tell me what other stage of life this is true).</li>
<li>If you have int'l friends they share their advice and experiences with you. </li>
<li> It's amazing to realize what is going on inside your belly. </li>
<li>I feel closer to Jesus when I think about my baby and the miracle he is. </li>
<li>I feel like I can relate to my elderly friends with back aches, difficulty walking, or getting up out of chairs. </li>
</ol>
That's all for now. If you think of any more. Let me know. Thank you to all who have shown me the beauties of pregnancy and how much Jesus loves me, my Brent, and our baby boy. Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-17763395750246746002012-04-06T15:12:00.002-05:002012-04-06T15:17:50.178-05:00Introducing our baby boy<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E7gEnpmWRqw/T39OT_IOr8I/AAAAAAAAAko/LhmmqO6Qzbk/s1600/DICKINSONBETHANYK20120403140743171.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E7gEnpmWRqw/T39OT_IOr8I/AAAAAAAAAko/LhmmqO6Qzbk/s320/DICKINSONBETHANYK20120403140743171.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728383356308991938" border="0" /></a><br />Here is our tiny son. He's only 19.5 wks old and growing strong. He likes to suck on his hand already and I'm hoping that is a good sign for breastfeeding. I have no idea who he looks like yet, but he will be cute.<br /><br />Our little warrior will be like his daddy because this momma is craving all of daddy's favorite foods; fruits, salty and crunchy things, and more salty and sour foods. He likes to move around when I'm still and I like that (right now). When he's huge I might think it's annoying. I am enjoying knowing it's a "he" and planning some names. We are keeping the name a secret. "Lord, help us to be parents worthy of this sweet life." Amen.Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-1805387448896507122012-02-07T17:50:00.004-06:002012-02-07T18:11:53.927-06:00Introducing...our little warrior.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I am realizing more and more how appropriately named this blog has become. It describes my life to a tee. Maybe I should start expecting more of these gifts God throws at me. What do you think? </span><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Although I'm not to fond of suspense, I do like surprises (when I don't know their coming). That's a true surprise! </span><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">This pregnancy was very much desired, but for some reason I didn't expect it when it came. I'm 11.5 wks as I write this and I feel like the end of my first trimester couldn't come fast enough. Will the fatigue get better before it gets worse? Please say yes!</span><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> Am I there yet? My jeans are now unbuttonable (yes, I know that's not a word). I call that an accomplishment as I can now see how quickly my belly is expanding. I would love to upload a "belly pic", but my camera is not cooperating right now so you will have to wait until I'm as big as a basketball (or barn). After last year's miscarriage, the nervousness is still beneath the surface, but slowly dwindling as I watch this child grow (from the inside out). I've started pestering Brent about names and he is showing his lack of interest to discuss it, quite well. When we can get past the "Albert, and Ruban" comments, I'll be happy. He shot down my favorite name since I was in high school. "Yes I know we're having a white baby. But wouldn't it be fun.....?" Oh. Apparently, J'Myra's not his #1 name. </span><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Sometimes I forget I'm pregnant, and then I wake up. The familiar growl begins in my stomach and I roll out of bed for something (for the millionth time) to eat. I am slowly getting past the "I hate food" stage, and into the "I'm so hungry I could pass out (every 2 hrs)" stage. </span><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I love this baby and I'm excited to see who she/he becomes. Some people doubt bringing children into this corrupt world. I too have my fears and doubts. However, what if this child could be a soldier for the kingdom of God? What if Brent and I could raise up (by God's grace and strength alone), someone who really cares and prays and shatter's the Enemies strongholds? Oh, Lord I pray that will happen! Who's with me? </span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-52456520700280275532011-12-14T06:46:00.000-06:002011-12-14T06:51:34.653-06:00New House with New Guests<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9N37rqtEBn0/TuibmMpM4tI/AAAAAAAAAjg/E72Ius_aDk4/s1600/216.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9N37rqtEBn0/TuibmMpM4tI/AAAAAAAAAjg/E72Ius_aDk4/s320/216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685965610086621906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3GDzrM1YBsg/Tuibl69v0fI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Nn4KW29vHc4/s1600/217.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3GDzrM1YBsg/Tuibl69v0fI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Nn4KW29vHc4/s320/217.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685965605340959218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mTAlhdVpQ_k/TuiblYnig7I/AAAAAAAAAjI/XBwbuR0qXOg/s1600/212.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mTAlhdVpQ_k/TuiblYnig7I/AAAAAAAAAjI/XBwbuR0qXOg/s320/212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685965596121007026" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O7N25pz3ESA/TuiblDyC_oI/AAAAAAAAAi8/gqBLgPDrYGQ/s1600/173.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O7N25pz3ESA/TuiblDyC_oI/AAAAAAAAAi8/gqBLgPDrYGQ/s320/173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685965590527934082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxJM507yIVE/TuibmzyyoOI/AAAAAAAAAjs/SFggFmOPrw8/s1600/221.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxJM507yIVE/TuibmzyyoOI/AAAAAAAAAjs/SFggFmOPrw8/s320/221.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685965620595826914" border="0" /></a>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-39492906232408525932011-10-10T06:47:00.003-05:002011-10-10T07:21:23.568-05:00Home OwnersIt's been a long time since I've posted anything. Mostly because I didn't feel like I had anything "new to write". No new revelations or astonishing news. We have been busy with our jobs and God has opened up "many" new doors. One of those is buying a house. We had been looking for a long time with lots of disappointments. Brent literally looked online every day for new postings and found very little we even wanted to drive by. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PorUwmh5jgc/TpLgMks1xVI/AAAAAAAAAic/NCXSFE7Wkro/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PorUwmh5jgc/TpLgMks1xVI/AAAAAAAAAic/NCXSFE7Wkro/s320/002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661834188172936530" border="0" /></a>It's so funny b/c everyone always told us..."Welp, now's the time to buy!" "There are a zillion houses on the market right now. " Like we were supposed to snatch <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xIzCCdf7i9A/TpLgL7MUHkI/AAAAAAAAAiU/KvqmR6nYSxo/s1600/013.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xIzCCdf7i9A/TpLgL7MUHkI/AAAAAAAAAiU/KvqmR6nYSxo/s320/013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661834177030659650" border="0" /></a>something up over a weekend. I kept asking God, "do you want us to move out of this area, State, Country?" Are we not hearing you clearly about staying here? I've never been one to believe in storing up treasures on earth, but I really wanted Brent to have a play farm, somewhere he could express all his creative endeavors, and I wanted to bring my int'l friends to a cozy and inviting "home" with room for parties and barn dances :) I felt like God wanted us to completely trust him. Like, He actually wanted us to wait! Gasp!<br />It came at the perfect time. I was feeling especially dejected one day due to totally unrelated issues. I wasn't trusting God really, but I wanted to and was crying out for help. Brent came home and told me about "this place" he drove past and he thought we should check it out. I shrugged and tried not to get excited. I failed when I saw an amazing rainbow (a full one) in the sky. My camera can't do it justice, but I tried just the same. I failed to curb my excitement again when I saw this big and beautiful kitchen for me to spin around while cooking! Amazing! What I am amazed about the most was how God dropped it in our lap, 4.7 acres with two barns and a cool old home that has been updated (has the right plumbing etc), just to say... "I love you!". He owned this place and He saved for us, simply because he knew the cackle of delight that would escape from Brent's lips as he surveyed the perfect space to plant his new orchard. I want this place to be more then a place where we live. I want it to be a place where Jesus is glorified to the fullest. I want to sing his praises every day while I'm sitting out on the big front porch. I'm gloating people! I'm gloating over God's provision in a way that astounds me. Not because we have a cool house. But because His lovingkindness is better then life. He told me that day (the rainbow was a sign) that he loved me, us! He said. "Trust me with everything and for everything. I'm worth trusting." It wasn't the house that made me tear up. It was His extravagant love that we certainly don't deserve, given so freely in the shape of a rainbow (promise of His faithfulness) and a home that was exactly what we had asked for. It was even a promise of something better, yet to come. I'm excited to find out what it is.Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-7408699324813673102011-06-26T08:30:00.003-05:002011-06-26T09:10:40.221-05:00Worship<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxugNRWrTDRhlzY40fzS6MkFs4S0K8mvUIlMaNMO4EO8r6rtV-zBhU0gLLib-2mbyFy_N6c7xC_2rArHyyARg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>We learned that there are many different languages and worship styles but only one God. His people reside in different parts of the earth. They eat different foods and pray differently( Koreans pray out loud all at the same time). theses Korean young people were practicing a song for a singing competition in their church.<br /><br /><br />The second video is of my Filipina sisters in Christ worshiping God in a park on Hong Kong Island during their day off. It brought me to tears to hear their beautiful worship with out thought of what people would think of them. They were a beautiful example to me. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about them and the 4 years I spent in their beautiful country as a child. I don't know their names but I felt closer to them then to many of my church members in America. They had a passion and desire to worship that out shone any thing I've seen in the U.S. These women are working as house helpers/maids in Hong Kong. They have left their families back home in order to be able to provide for them and make a better life for them. They send the money back home. It's a touching example of sacrifice and how they connect in their communities.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dykGwmKd8V4sSouFbQ5JD-t9Ql2pFOcjLTQG0AXipKN3xla31v8Fo0dbBDICz42EYFj2GqxNcKVm31u2Q7q9g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-19188844361824449872011-06-13T01:19:00.004-05:002011-06-13T19:15:04.997-05:00The Familiar<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HWpdkzf4hIE/TfanxxAL_6I/AAAAAAAAAdk/mKY7vM4KER8/s1600/021.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617862058600824738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HWpdkzf4hIE/TfanxxAL_6I/AAAAAAAAAdk/mKY7vM4KER8/s400/021.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Li0REuEt6RI/TfanxqS5IJI/AAAAAAAAAdc/C85xJqsb3Mk/s1600/025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617862056800231570" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Li0REuEt6RI/TfanxqS5IJI/AAAAAAAAAdc/C85xJqsb3Mk/s400/025.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQVjqw3e7pQ/TfanxbtgNfI/AAAAAAAAAdU/n6AaRqnHxK4/s1600/050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617862052885313010" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQVjqw3e7pQ/TfanxbtgNfI/AAAAAAAAAdU/n6AaRqnHxK4/s400/050.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iy-Zljvvo-k/Tfanw_Mqg-I/AAAAAAAAAdM/NLxcqnii0Fg/s1600/049.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617862045231383522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iy-Zljvvo-k/Tfanw_Mqg-I/AAAAAAAAAdM/NLxcqnii0Fg/s400/049.JPG" /></a> <br /><div>"What is that?" "Well, I'm not sure. let's order it and find out ":)<br />Adventure comes in different colors and definitely looks different on everyone. As members of the human race, we long for the familiar. We may enjoy the occasional adventure of "fresh eel" picked out alive from it's tank and then cooked wriggling in front of you. But unless you grew up that way, an ice americano may be more comforting.<br /><br />Brent and I are learning that this is true for traffic, food, ATMs, and coffee. For example, scooters in Seoul can drive anywhere they like including side walks and in between cars and buses. It's madness trying to stay alive where ever we walk. the food is very good, but you have to like kimchi, tofu, and spicy. I like it, but it does taste the same after a while. </div><br /><br /><div>Apparently you have to use a special "global ATM" to be able to get any money out. It was interesting trying to find one. The internet helps :) </div><br /><br /><div>We splurged on Indian food last night. like I said, it's familair and a favorite of both Brent and myself. There is something comforting about familiar foods, faces, places. I'm still trying to put my finger on the reason why. In any case, I understand why my international friends feel lost in an American restaurant, or are afraid to ask for directions or what a certain food is at the grocery store. Ah yes, I understand.<br />. </div></div></div></div>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-18207446298877030632011-06-12T03:41:00.005-05:002011-06-12T03:51:30.723-05:00Our First few days in Seoul, Korea.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oE6xef7YM5s/TfR8bPAHg9I/AAAAAAAAAc8/CovwYj5ws94/s1600/079.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oE6xef7YM5s/TfR8bPAHg9I/AAAAAAAAAc8/CovwYj5ws94/s400/079.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617251442563187666" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cugXVskcN74/TfR8azQ26iI/AAAAAAAAAc0/o4zJYH_Bcfo/s1600/018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cugXVskcN74/TfR8azQ26iI/AAAAAAAAAc0/o4zJYH_Bcfo/s400/018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617251435117210146" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Yes, it's true. We decided to travel back in time and see how heavy the hair was.<br />Don't we look stunning?<br /><br />Me and Misook at a palace in Seoul. It's been fun to see and catch up with Misook again. She has been a wonderful guide.<br /><br /><br />We are learning a lot about city life in Korea. The subway is a maze, but pretty convenient. Brent's not so sure we will ever come out again, but we do, every time :)Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-26086417061683474902011-05-12T07:39:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:27:25.084-05:00An Expectation<span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">We have an expectation.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Grace is not even mentioned.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">We expect to receive what </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">we</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> think we deserve. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">We condemn those that receive rain when they </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">deserve</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> famine</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">"We deserve rain!" </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">He says, "Nope. You all deserve hell."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Grace has nothing to do with "Human rights". </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">He sees Jesus; what He did in our place.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Good people do not exist; sorry, we were born that way. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">But that's when the good part comes.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> Jesus' grace is free, really, grace is not earned!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">We should all expect hell; instead He gave us Himself. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Since no one deserves any good thing</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">no one is beyond saving. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">We are all in the same boat. All of us. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">So this is what I've learned</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">from heartache; I'm stepping forward</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I ache more for truth, yet I'm afraid of what I'll find</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Healing is the beginning</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">joy is found in knowing; while waiting.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">peace is knowing that while waiting... He's not sleeping. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">He's awake and triumphant. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Slashing through darkness with a machete of piercing truth.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Can I have some of your truth my Lord? </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Humbly I wait... for truth to come and stab my darkness with blinding perfection. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I waited patiently for the Lord</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">He inclined and heard my cry</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">He brought me up out of the pit</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">out of the miry clay</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And I will sing</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">sing a new song</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">yes I will sing</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">sing a new song</span><br /><br /></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-87987338395220264502011-04-28T08:48:00.002-05:002011-04-28T08:59:02.809-05:00Lamentations 3: 20-29Remember my affliction and my wandering, the <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20374Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20374Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)</sup>wormwood and bitterness.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20375">20</sup>Surely <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20375Z" title="See cross-reference Z">Z</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20375Z" title="See cross-reference Z">Z</a>)</sup>my soul remembers<br /> And is <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20375AA" title="See cross-reference AA">AA</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20375AA" title="See cross-reference AA">AA</a>)</sup>bowed down within me.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20376">21</sup>This I recall to my mind,<br /> Therefore I have <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20376AB" title="See cross-reference AB">AB</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20376AB" title="See cross-reference AB">AB</a>)</sup>hope.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20377">22</sup>The LORD'S <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20377AC" title="See cross-reference AC">AC</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20377AC" title="See cross-reference AC">AC</a>)</sup>lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,<br /> <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20377AD" title="See cross-reference AD">AD</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20377AD" title="See cross-reference AD">AD</a>)</sup>For His compassions never fail.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20378">23</sup>They are new <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20378AE" title="See cross-reference AE">AE</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20378AE" title="See cross-reference AE">AE</a>)</sup>every morning;<br /> Great is <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20378AF" title="See cross-reference AF">AF</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20378AF" title="See cross-reference AF">AF</a>)</sup>Your faithfulness.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20379">24</sup>"The LORD is my <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20379AG" title="See cross-reference AG">AG</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20379AG" title="See cross-reference AG">AG</a>)</sup>portion," says my soul,<br /> "Therefore I <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20379AH" title="See cross-reference AH">AH</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20379AH" title="See cross-reference AH">AH</a>)</sup>have hope in Him."<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20380">25</sup>The LORD is good to those who <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20380AI" title="See cross-reference AI">AI</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20380AI" title="See cross-reference AI">AI</a>)</sup>wait for Him,<br /> To the person who <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20380AJ" title="See cross-reference AJ">AJ</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20380AJ" title="See cross-reference AJ">AJ</a>)</sup>seeks Him.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20381">26</sup>It is good that he <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20381AK" title="See cross-reference AK">AK</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20381AK" title="See cross-reference AK">AK</a>)</sup>waits silently<br /> For the salvation of the LORD.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20382">27</sup>It is good for a man that he should bear<br /> The yoke in his youth.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20383">28</sup>Let him <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20383AL" title="See cross-reference AL">AL</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20383AL" title="See cross-reference AL">AL</a>)</sup>sit alone and be silent<br /> Since He has laid it on him.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-20384">29</sup>Let him put his mouth in the <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20384AM" title="See cross-reference AM">AM</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20384AM" title="See cross-reference AM">AM</a>)</sup>dust,<br /> Perhaps there is <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-20384AN" title="See cross-reference AN">AN</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lamentations%203&version=NASB#cen-NASB-20384AN" title="See cross-reference AN">AN</a>)</sup>hope.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't even understand this passage. I don't know how anyone can wait silently. What does that really mean? I can pretend I'm not hurting. Lord, your going to hear about it! I'm not good at waiting, but who is? I"m not good at being silent. I'm loud in thought, song and opinion. I'm prideful. I'm mindful of Job and what the Lord said to him</span></span>.<br /><br /><br />Job 40: 1-14<br /><br /><br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13866">1</sup>Then the LORD said to Job,<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13867">2</sup>"Will the faultfinder <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13867A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13867A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)</sup>contend with the Almighty?<br /> Let him who <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13867B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13867B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)</sup>reproves God answer it." <p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13868">3</sup>Then Job answered the LORD and said,<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13869">4</sup>"Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to You?<br /> I <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13869C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13869C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)</sup>lay my hand on my mouth.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13870">5</sup>"Once I have spoken, and <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13870D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13870D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)</sup>I will not answer;<br /> Even twice, and I will add nothing more." </p><h5>God Questions Job</h5> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13871">6</sup>Then the <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13871E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13871E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)</sup>LORD answered Job out of the storm and said,<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13872">7</sup>"Now <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13872F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13872F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)</sup>gird up your loins like a man;<br /> I will <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13872G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13872G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)</sup>ask you, and you instruct Me.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13873">8</sup>"Will you really <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13873H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13873H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)</sup>annul My judgment?<br /> Will you <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13873I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13873I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)</sup>condemn Me <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13873J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13873J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)</sup>that you may be justified?<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13874">9</sup>"Or do you have an arm like God,<br /> And can you <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13874K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13874K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)</sup>thunder with a voice like His?<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13875">10</sup>"<sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13875L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13875L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)</sup>Adorn yourself with eminence and dignity,<br /> And clothe yourself with honor and majesty.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13876">11</sup>"Pour out <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13876M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13876M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)</sup>the overflowings of your anger,<br /> And look on everyone who is <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13876N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13876N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)</sup>proud, and make him low.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13877">12</sup>"Look on everyone who is proud, and <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13877O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13877O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)</sup>humble him,<br /> And <sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13877P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13877P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)</sup>tread down the wicked where they stand.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13878">13</sup>"<sup class="xref" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-13878Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)">(<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%2040&version=NASB#cen-NASB-13878Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)</sup>Hide them in the dust together;<br /> Bind them in the hidden place.<br /> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NASB-13879">14</sup>"Then I will also confess to you,<br /> That your own right hand can save you.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >All these things are true. But.... I'm not there yet. I'm still crying every day when I open His word. I have a hard time praying. Having the composure to pray anything, but "Help me God!" or "I really wanted him. Why did you take him from me?" I know the truth in my head. My heart needs to follow.<br /></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-24179646429988914092011-04-14T11:08:00.004-05:002011-04-17T13:03:52.936-05:00Disapointment, Love and Faith<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" >Dear baby,<br />For some reason I know you were going to be a boy. Call it mother's intuition. Maybe that's why we affectionately called you Roscoe (just a pet name, you understand). I don't know why you had to leave so early. I don't blame you. I would love to see Jesus too. Imagine Him being the first person I ever saw! How merciful and fantastic that would be. But why even come in the first place and make us attached to you? I don't understand that. I feel tired from thinking about it. I lose my appetite when I see the numbers on the calendar, marking each new week of your growth inside me. I should have written them in pencil.<br />I am still cramping, trying to heal and physically move on. My mind is trying to get over everything that I learned about your development... up til now. I'm glad that I saw you inside of me. I needed that little glimpse, even though you had already left. I have cried a lot. I needed to cry. I talk about you a lot to many people. It's only right to talk about my baby.<br />Your daddy is a fantastic person. I wish you could have have met him. He would have made you into a mechanic, fruit tree-grafting, builder, and jack of all trades. You would have rolled your eyes at all of his dumb jokes and grinned as he tried to start the campfire with nothing but the sparks flying off the car battery. But I guess your not really missing much, really. We love you but you are perfect and whole as you are now. Jesus is taking you to the park and your riding that one crazy roller coaster that I am just sure is up there somewhere. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><br />I miss you and will continue to miss you. I don't fondly pat my tummy anymore. But don't worry about me little man, you will have siblings some day for mommy to feed organic veggies and flaxseed to. You will roll your eyes at my healthy concoctions and thank God you can eat whatever you want while your brothers and sisters suffer down here with mom, he he. There is hope, I can feel it. There is disappointment too. There is love, from us to you, and there is faith; that somehow this will make us whole, better. Love,<br /> Momma b<br /></span></span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-58874948377283634262011-01-31T06:07:00.003-06:002011-01-31T07:12:55.260-06:00Sick<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TUayTKJLhYI/AAAAAAAAAbY/32jPH7BZbFI/s1600/026.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TUayTKJLhYI/AAAAAAAAAbY/32jPH7BZbFI/s400/026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568334031500313986" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">I'm tired of getting sick every month. For those of you who read this semi regularly. It's about time I updated.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">For a few years, several years ago, I went through a "martyr kick". I read about martyrs, bought Foxe's book of Martyrs, got the magazine, a weekly e-newsletter, and dreamt about being a martyr someday. Sometimes I would lament during a particular illness "I'm such a baby now, how will I ever stand up in the face of persecutors wanting to destroy me?" It may sound funny, but such was my passion.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">My body has not been functioning at peak capacity since I said "I Do", or since we moved into this duplex, ( I don't know which one). If there is a germ to be nurtured and multiplied, I will be the one to do it. I used to get sick once or twice a yr. Don't believe me? Well neither does my new doctor. He told me. "I'm a firm believer in "An Apple a Day..." " Well," I said, "I eat tons of fruits and veggies and it hasn't seemed to keep you away yet." (yes, we are getting the duct work completely cleaned out and the house has been tested for mold). </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Praise to the Lord the almighty who gives and takes away. The only God our Savior, who "does not owe us anything" (c.a.Zull) (borrowing that one from Crystal).</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">How can we say to our maker.."Why did you make me this way? " We are the clay.... let's be mushable! He knows how to make us into a vessel usable for him. Let's let him.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Martyrdom always seemed glorious to me. The highest calling possible. There are some that would disagree. I'm still not sure what I think. I do know that even though I would love to functioning normally again, I am thankful for so many things.</span><br /></span><ul style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: verdana;"><li><span style="font-size:130%;"> Jesus is good and will remain good despite me or how many times I get sick. </span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">He has given me a wonderful husband. I could not have asked for better.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">I will heal and learn of his goodness in the meantime.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">even when I don't believe Him, He is still trustworthy.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">If feeling under the weather, gets me on my knees, bring it on.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;">If it will induce more people to pray for me and my ministry... ok!</span></li></ul><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Praise to the Lord, the Almighty the King of Creation! Surly his goodness and mercy will daily sustain me. This post is a prayer and a cry for prayer. I am daily fighting against discouragement. I am encouraged by so many people, so many circumstances, and by my Jesus. </span><br /><br /></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-21892631415004113782010-12-06T08:12:00.007-06:002010-12-29T18:41:01.972-06:00The Finest moments of 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wWYkh0UI/AAAAAAAAAbM/gwTXrcW95jg/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wWYkh0UI/AAAAAAAAAbM/gwTXrcW95jg/s400/011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552780395426206018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wWFGriyI/AAAAAAAAAbE/2VPYeYDdCRI/s1600/054.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wWFGriyI/AAAAAAAAAbE/2VPYeYDdCRI/s400/054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552780390200740642" border="0" /></a>Pictures speak louder then words. They scream. I bet I can say absolutely nothing about any of these pictures and you will know exactly what is going on. So whoever can guess what the significance of all these pictures are correctly, will get a jar of homemade apple butter from the Dickinsons. love to you all!<br />I am dependent upon the love and mercy of Jesus. Ephesians 3: 14-21<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wVwHBFJI/AAAAAAAAAa8/ZCrNDHm1t1U/s1600/025.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wVwHBFJI/AAAAAAAAAa8/ZCrNDHm1t1U/s400/025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552780384565007506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wVkAZu_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/m-BmnWWogFQ/s1600/021.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9wVkAZu_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/m-BmnWWogFQ/s400/021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552780381316037618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v3JMPk3I/AAAAAAAAAak/XAC53tLNVYA/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v3JMPk3I/AAAAAAAAAak/XAC53tLNVYA/s400/001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779858721870706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2jygANI/AAAAAAAAAac/YAIXXEhZS64/s1600/003.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2jygANI/AAAAAAAAAac/YAIXXEhZS64/s400/003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779848681783506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2SVBEYI/AAAAAAAAAaU/4twotiPFBwE/s1600/015.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2SVBEYI/AAAAAAAAAaU/4twotiPFBwE/s400/015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779843994718594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2FDN9oI/AAAAAAAAAaM/Xg7ONfZ12Ws/s1600/001.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v2FDN9oI/AAAAAAAAAaM/Xg7ONfZ12Ws/s400/001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779840430405250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v1yg-EgI/AAAAAAAAAaE/rcZqRIWHE34/s1600/006.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9v1yg-EgI/AAAAAAAAAaE/rcZqRIWHE34/s400/006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779835454919170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJmfJiMI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/8_UatH2hy9Y/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJmfJiMI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/8_UatH2hy9Y/s400/011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779076311812290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJaZ38FI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/PMFD21vf3y4/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJaZ38FI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/PMFD21vf3y4/s400/006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779073068462162" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJHkyfOI/AAAAAAAAAZs/w9owQhgkZQE/s1600/033.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vJHkyfOI/AAAAAAAAAZs/w9owQhgkZQE/s400/033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779068013968610" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vIgfT5iI/AAAAAAAAAZk/a1xAnN3Ut1o/s1600/047.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vIgfT5iI/AAAAAAAAAZk/a1xAnN3Ut1o/s400/047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779057522009634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vIQYm67I/AAAAAAAAAZc/NHCXnKMaMJc/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TQ9vIQYm67I/AAAAAAAAAZc/NHCXnKMaMJc/s400/002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552779053198928818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TPzvz9H8bpI/AAAAAAAAAZM/kUxqJlxvtZM/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TPzvz9H8bpI/AAAAAAAAAZM/kUxqJlxvtZM/s400/006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547572516873858706" border="0" /></a>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-61805106725418124932010-11-04T06:31:00.003-05:002010-11-04T06:58:30.588-05:00Journal<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >I started journaling when I was six years old. Back then, the compositions were short and sweet. Something like... "It's hot. My brothers are mean to me. I wish it were not hot. "<br />As time went on, the entries became longer, more dramatic, and full of whimsical charm. During my "innocent and sweet" years, (jr high-ish) I was particularly interested in a journal to my future husband. Now that I have a husband, I decided to give him my journal for his sentimental enjoyment and (I admit it) hilarious amusement.<br /><br />While I was out of town a couple weeks ago, Brent decided to read my gift to him before he went to bed. He told me about a few entries. "We were meant to be, b!" (he calls me "b"). "Why do you say that?" I asked him. He told me about a certain entry I had made at 14 yrs old. Something about how much I loved fall and winter best (out of all the seasons), and how it must be because I was born in the winter. I went on from there to say I wanted my future hubby to be born in January. "I just think that would be perfect." I didn't believe my ears! Me, like winter? What's to like? Want my hubby to be born in January? Seriously! Well, Brent's birthday (as you might have guessed) is January 15th. As I thought back to those whimsical, naive years, I can't help but wonder if God was not completely in love with my pure faith and hope. Before I realized that prince charming was not real. Before, "reality" sunk in about boys.... He knew and answered a silly little hope of an 8th grade girl. Even though I couldn't care less when my husband was born now... it mattered to Jesus that 14 yr old Bethany Kathleen Zull, wanted a winter man. I may have grown up quite a bit since then. I may have gotten quite cynical.... but...<br />looking back (reading back) on my child-like faith. It gives me hope. It send shivers up my spine, actually. God really really cares, about the big and the little things. Be blessed, have hope, love, and know your are loved. Journal, pray, thank the Lord for your man or woman. God actually listens to our inmost thoughts. Your wish might actually come true :) Gasp! </span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-9512944041210966692010-10-13T13:22:00.002-05:002010-10-13T13:26:29.712-05:00Wedding Pictures<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TLX5vfG9evI/AAAAAAAAAY8/LgFJdTRoSG4/s1600/bbportraits-22.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TLX5vfG9evI/AAAAAAAAAY8/LgFJdTRoSG4/s400/bbportraits-22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527598711867013874" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.pictage.com/914856">http://www.pictage.com/914856</a><br />The above link will take you to our wedding pics. Many people have asked me for access to them so here ya go! I am super impressed with them myself. Wandering Heart Photography w/ Sarah Wilson!Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-30440682524329287952010-09-20T07:40:00.005-05:002010-09-26T20:27:04.265-05:00Accomplishments galore!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TJdWr6UkOoI/AAAAAAAAAYs/38o0EToS1t0/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TJdWr6UkOoI/AAAAAAAAAYs/38o0EToS1t0/s400/007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518975180755712642" border="0" /></a><br />We are obsessed with accomplishment! We all have our certain "accomplishment obsessions". What if mine were to finish that ginormous apple in my hand? you would say... "that's it"? That's not reaching high enough. And I would agree with you.<br />What about getting over 3 different illnesses in 2.5 weeks? Now that's an accomplishment right? When going for a walk takes it out of you. When simply talking for more then 10 minutes is tiring, then we tend to think harder about our point system on accomplishments.<br /><br />Recently God has been teaching me a lot about how my accomplishments, and works mean "squat" without Him. I am utterly helpless and hopeless without my God's backing. He empowers. I feel like I have written about this before.... hmmm. A theme maybe? I might just have a lot on my plate. I'm training for a marathon while planning 2 ministry activities next weekend, while teaching ESL, Bible Studies, raising up a team of financial partners in ministry, choir practice, prayer team meeting, small group and spending time with my man. I am not saying all this so that ya'll will be impressed by my time management skills. I'm actually appalled by all of this myself. The funny thing is... you are just as busy and it's normal, expected and encouraged to be "involved" in various "uplifting" activities. But what is all of this "accomplishing"? Really? When you read God's words, listen to the teaching of Jesus, what was important? I'm curious to get your thoughts and comments. Even one-liners would be great.Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-68885622585620608412010-09-10T09:08:00.003-05:002010-09-10T09:45:10.159-05:00Pure in Jesus Christ<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Be Healed!" What enters your mind when you read a beginning like that? A televangelist with big hair and gaudy suite, slapping you on the forehead with a "holy handkerchief"? That's what I think of immediately. We laugh and joke about things like that because we don't believe it to be authentic. How <span style="font-style: italic;">does</span> true healing come about? It is only by the power of God. We cannot heal ourselves.<br /><br />For years I have struggled with the concept of my purity in Christ. I did not see myself as cleansed from my sin. Guilt from the enemy has plagued me for past forgiven sins. I believed the lies that I was unclean. The truth was prayed over me several years ago, I didn't believe it. I wept because I wanted to believe it, but didn't .<br />Yesterday, the Holy Spirit spoke to me, as in my weakness, His power was made complete. "Today is the day of Salvation!"<br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">John 15:3 " You are already clean/pruned because of the word which I have spoken to you."</span></span></span> <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">And, "If we confess our sins He is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and purify us from All unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"></span></span></span><br /><br /> <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">I have realized yet again, the power of scripture. Satan is defeated. He will attack me again, but he is defeated by Jesus, and I will fight back with truth. I was already pure, a long time ago when I confessed, asked forgiveness and He said... "Of Course I forgive you! I died for you!". Now, I believe it! I asked God what took Him so long to heal me. He said, "I wanted to teach you, grow you, so you could look back and glorify My name for the power of My healing." It glorifies His name more... Wow!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">"To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. </span><sup style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26403">32</sup><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8:31-32</span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-62012851940833439712010-08-19T13:49:00.003-05:002010-08-19T14:11:28.952-05:00Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TG19DGs_ySI/AAAAAAAAAYc/J2FUBnI_kN0/s1600/055.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TG19DGs_ySI/AAAAAAAAAYc/J2FUBnI_kN0/s400/055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507195411636406562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">It seems a lot has changed in the last 3 weeks. Let me recap. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Hmmm... I got married!!!!!! </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">And with that comes changes like... last name, living situations, learning to live with a boy, learning not to assume he knows what I meant by what I just said, "sharing" a bed (I tend to take over and sprawl), learning how to choose to love and show in word and deed, and learning how to confide in him more. hmm... maybe I should write a book.. ha ha! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">Updating my last name is almost like becoming a new person b/c you have to change EVERYTHING! It's fun to move up in the alphabet a bit, but I will miss the convenience of a 4 letter last name. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"> The honeymoon was everything it should be; relaxing, fun, exciting, beautiful, and complete with the standard food poisoning and GI tract issues. We learned how to love each other in sickness and in health very soon after saying "I Do". </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">We are learning how to love our neighbors as ourselves (ask me). There is a lot of choosing joy and love when boxes are strewn all over the new place and the challenge of finding storage in a closet-less place comes into play. We are learning how to make life fun in every situation. I love my husband. He makes life fun, every day! I love how different we are and how complementary our character traits are. </span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I love the way he loves me, from kisses to dish-washing</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: courier new;">to creating shelves all over the house and remembering sappy things like first dates. </span></span><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">There are so many things I'm/we are learning it would take a book to fill... hmm. :) </span></span></span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-57672683766729586072010-07-16T13:13:00.003-05:002010-07-16T13:32:33.976-05:00Engagement<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TECjznfeuuI/AAAAAAAAAYU/alfxuhZ5_kE/s1600/b%26b2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/TECjznfeuuI/AAAAAAAAAYU/alfxuhZ5_kE/s400/b%26b2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494571652561681122" border="0" /></a><br />I've been thinking about the word "engagement" a lot. Mostly because it's the state that I've found myself in (for the next 2 weeks and the past 3.5 months). I have decided that those who tell me this time of life is happy and joyous, either don't remember their" engaged to be married" period, or they were engaged for 2 days. It's hard to plan a wedding in 4months, but it would be harder still to wait a year or more like many folks do. Crazy!<br /><br />A friend of mine gave me a devotional on how the Holy Spirit is our "engagement ring", our guarantee and promise of something better. Jesus said he was leaving to prepare a place for us. He said he would send the comforter and helper. I just finished reading the book, "Safely Home", by Randy Alcorn. He compares this world's beauty to heaven as "copies of the real thing", just shadows of the things to come. What beautiful pictures. We were not meant to be here forever. We are signed, sealed, and almost delivered to our true home with Jesus.<br />I pray our marriage is a constant reminder to all that there is something better. This world is not our home. We need to help people understand that fact. August 1st. 2010 is the day my earthly "guarantee" is fulfilled. I am so thankful for beautiful pictures created by God to let us catch a tiny glimpse of His perfect plan.Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-76076538565608901822010-05-05T08:37:00.000-05:002010-05-05T08:08:29.109-05:00Let my heart sing to you.<span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">It is sometimes hard to explain to people why I do what I do. What I do is easy to explain as far as my job is concerned. I love on int'l students and their families; demonstrating the love of God in any way I can.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">I could come up with all kinds of Biblical answers for you. The truth of it is, I believe I know the cure for cancer. If you knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that you too knew the cure... wouldn't you tell the world? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">The cancer of the soul is far more painful, destructive, and invasive then any physical cancer. I have seen it work it's black magic on families, targeting first the husband/father and cascading down in ripple effects to the other family members until a whole society is wrecked and reeling. I have been asked recently for proof that the Bible is the word of God, that Jesus is the only way, that God even exists! Evidence exists! Everywhere in fact; in our very hearts and the green brilliance of spring around us. Romans 1: 19-21</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">But their eyes are blind, their ears are stopped up, and no matter what kind of "evidence" exists, people choose to believe what is comfortable for them. That is the hard and cold truth. My heart cries out to Jesus who said "I am the Way, I am the Truth, I am the Life! No man comes to the Father except through me." John 14:6</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Why do I share my cure for cancer? Because I must! It is burning inside me like the disease itself. Out of love for my friends,out of love for my savior Jesus, I must tell everyone! Let the Holy Spirit do His job. Let me be faithful to do mine and then let me give up and let the Creator and sustainer do the rest. </span>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1260482458786822185.post-90870070264358250842010-04-21T08:15:00.011-05:002010-04-23T16:39:31.679-05:00Above and Beyond the Mountain Top<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S9ILpoIJmWI/AAAAAAAAAVc/PCQLLVK0IBc/s1600/053.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S9ILpoIJmWI/AAAAAAAAAVc/PCQLLVK0IBc/s400/053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463442107727976802" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is a love story. It happens to be true. It's not a fairy tale. It's real life.<br /><br />"I need you from dawn until dusk." Ok..... how long does it take to purpose? I thought he was being rather elaborate. I guess I should know better then to box in a Dickinson. They like to go overboard, above and beyond the average Joe. He picked me up at 4am! Seriously... why? He asked me if I owned any hiking boots. I said... "No...." I thought I had him pinned. We were going hiking in southern Indiana, somewhere, to watch the sunrise. The only place worth hiking is one with an elevation above sea level right? Well, that is true, but I had no clue what I was in for on April 15th, 2010.<br /><br />He picked me up at 4am. The morning started with our cheesy sappiness brimming up and over. We were both wearing the same shirts as the day we had met each other! Is he rubbing off on me? Yikes! We headed south after laughing hysterically about our outfits. I knew it! We were going to the hills of brown county.<br />When he slowly pulled into the exit for the Indianapolis airport, all my expectations veered suddenly in a new direction. "Where are we going?" I asked suspiciously. He gave me some ridiculous line about needing to go to the bathroom. At the airport????? come on dude.<br />We parked in the parking garage and he pulled out the ticket from his pocket. "Where are we flying?!!!!!" I was dumbfounded and completely speechless when he told me we were going to Colorado! My chin must have dropped several inches. I seriously had nothing to say to that. Since when do men take their women on a 12 hr exertion to the mountains. "There just wasn't any place good enough to take you in Indiana. Your brother said it best when he said."There isn't anything majestic here."<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span></span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S8760YdJlVI/AAAAAAAAAVE/hBYFwM3xUSg/s1600/743.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S8760YdJlVI/AAAAAAAAAVE/hBYFwM3xUSg/s400/743.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462579175871845714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S876pgl1LNI/AAAAAAAAAU8/A98MBLLdir8/s1600/024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S876pgl1LNI/AAAAAAAAAU8/A98MBLLdir8/s400/024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462578989077179602" border="0" /></a><br />We found CiJai's car easily enough. (CiJai is Brent's brother's girlfriend...Jason and CiJai live in Ft. Collins). The car was packed with fancy fun cheeses, our favorite wine, organic apples, water, snow shoes, boots, hats, gloves and snow pants! It was perfect!<br /><br />We drove to Boulder for breakfast. I am sad that I forgot to take pictures of Lucille's, a local hippy/Cajun style joint located in down town Boulder. But picture an old fashioned house made into a restaurant with homemade hot sauce, blueberry jam and apple butter on the table and two different kinds of recycling receptacles in the bathroom, and I think you will have an idea of what it was like.<br />After stuffing our faces we drove to one of my favorite places on earth, Rocky Mountain National Park! The day was incredible, sunny and warm. CiJai's snow pants and boots fit me perfectly. Hurray for snow shoeing! I had never been and always wanted to go! We hiked up past two different lakes, Nymph and Dream Lake. Our destination was Emerald Lake, just over the ridge in that first picture above. Imagine a bowl shaped valley with those craggy peaks jutting up on three sides and you have it! Intense beauty!<br /> We sat down for a picnic of raw milk cheese, apples, wassa crackers and our favorite wine and chocolate. Immediately some feathery friends swooped down to claim rights to apple cores, cheese, crackers, whatever they could steal. Check out the look on this guy's face :)<br />We finished our picnic and hiked up to a different part of the lake. All this time I was waiting... patiently waiting for him to "pop the question". Ok, now would be the time... ok... how about now? no? well then... As we were gazing at the scenery of the majestic mountains soaring up and up around us, I suddenly realized Brent had gotten down on one knee and was pouring out his heart to me on the mountain side. He was joyful and tearful, as expressive as ever, and with heartbreaking passion he asked me to marry him. I had thought of something clever to say that to this day I have no memory of it. Every word in my head left me. I forgot my role in the whole dealio. He got out the ring and I just stared at it! It was amazing, my favorite from our Ebay searches. I suddenly realized he was waiting for me to say something so I stammered out a "Yes.. yes, I will." The catch in my throat grew from my speechlessness into a audible sob. "I want it to be you, me and Jesus, all the way." He had said.<br />It's only been a weak since the proposal and I still think about that moment and I lapse into dreamy sappiness. What has happened to me? Well, I think I found myself a real man. I man who loves Jesus and me. A man who thinks my weird meal creations are edible, even good :) He fixes brakes, makes cheesy jokes, and treats people with respect and dignity. I'm done looking. August 1st is the day my last name changes to Dickinson.<br />This is a love story.... not a fairy tale. Jesus is Good!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S9IOS4AuOJI/AAAAAAAAAVs/EG-QYxC6hMk/s1600/734.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ECwQnR31VME/S9IOS4AuOJI/AAAAAAAAAVs/EG-QYxC6hMk/s400/734.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463445015389681810" border="0" /></a>Bethany Dickinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12719919567784704458noreply@blogger.com3