tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13637224131510343292024-02-19T10:37:53.685-06:00Nancy HolteNancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.comBlogger333125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-621584122121526822013-04-01T15:37:00.001-05:002013-04-01T15:37:22.536-05:00MovingI'm moving! Well, not actually physically moving, just moving my blog. For the past several months I've been posting my blog here, and on my <a href="http://www.nancyholte.com/" target="_blank">website, nancyholte.com</a>. I wanted everything to be "just right" before I made the big announcement and moved everything to just that one location and now the time has come. I will keep this site up for a little bit longer while everyone "moves" with me but the new posts will only be found at <a href="http://nancyholte.com/">Nancyholte.com</a>. <br />
<br />
Thanks for faithfully following my ramblings. At my <a href="http://www.nancyholte.com/" target="_blank">new site</a> you'll have the option to "subscribe" to have my blog emailed to you the day after it posts. Or, you can just check in whenever you'd like to see what's new. It's my goal to post a new blog each Monday (so that might be a good day to stop by.)<br />
<br />
Before I close I want to offer a HUGE thank you to my son, Adam, for his work in getting my website up and running. I'd be lost without his help.<br />
<br />
Again, thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoy the <a href="http://www.nancyholte.com/" target="_blank">new site</a>. God bless!Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-48565245302007282372013-03-25T12:15:00.002-05:002013-03-25T12:15:47.262-05:00What's So Good About Good Friday?
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">What’s so good about Good Friday? This is a
question that I consider just about every year as we enter into Easter week.
Why would they name the day we commemorate Christ’s brutal crucifixion “good”?
It was horrible. Our Lord and Savior was beaten, abused, mocked and nailed to a
tree while onlookers watched him die, not just from the pain and suffocation,
but also from a broken heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can we
call that “good”?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I’ve asked this question of pastors over the
years but I’ve either not been satisfied with their answer or else I’ve
forgotten it so I found myself thinking about it yesterday once again, “What’s
so good about Good Friday?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This morning I did a little Internet research
on the subject, which turned up some pretty interesting answers. In general, it
would appear that no one is totally sure of why the Friday before Easter is
called Good Friday. Everyone seems to agree that this title showed up sometime
in the 4<sup>th</sup> century but after that, there are numerous explanations
given for its name. Some say it was possibly once called “God’s Friday” and the
word “Good” was used to replace “God” because at some points in history God’s
name was considered too holy even to speak. One author even quipped that the
change from God’s Friday to Good Friday was due, perchance, to a
hard-of-hearing monk who added an “o” and dropped the “s” and moved on. Another
explanation is that the name, Germanic in origin, was "Gute Freitag" and
literally means "good" or "holy" Friday.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Yesterday, when I was thinking about the
whole “Good in Good Friday” question here’s what I came up with:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Because of Jesus’ horrible death, I get to
live. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Because of Jesus’ willingness to be the
ultimate blood sacrifice, my sins can be forgiven.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Because of Jesus’ time on the cross, I can go
boldly to the throne of grace in prayer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Because of Jesus, I get to fulfill God’s
purpose for me in this amazing adventure called life.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So yes, on Good Friday, when we remember
Christ’s death on the cross, I will grieve over what had to happen but know
that without the crucifixion nothing would be “good.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, because of Christ willingly giving
his life to buy mine, everything has been made “good.” </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">And the best news? It’s what happened on the
third day that takes the good to great! Christ’s resurrection from the dead
brings with it the promise of eternal life for everyone who calls Jesus their
Lord. And that, my friend, is reason to celebrate! </span></div>
Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-67400755818304900302013-03-18T21:24:00.001-05:002013-03-18T21:25:07.022-05:00Our Swazi "Daughter"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0266.jpg" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0266.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="DSC_0266" class="aligncenter" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0266-500x500.jpg" height="450" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0266-500x500.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
I
have just one more story to tell you about our trip to Swaziland. In
theory, this should be an easy story to tell but in reality I’ve
struggled more with writing it than with any other. The short story here
is that we were able to meet the little girl that we sponsor through
the organization <a data-mce-href="http://www.onechildmatters.org/" href="http://www.onechildmatters.org/">One Child Matters</a>. In Swaziland <a data-mce-href="http://www.onechildmatters.org/" href="http://www.onechildmatters.org/">One Child Matters</a> partners with <a data-mce-href="http://www.childrenscup.org/" href="http://www.childrenscup.org/">Children’s Cup</a> to provide care, education, food and Christian teaching to children living in impoverished regions.</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
There
were several people on our team who are sponsoring children in
Swaziland and we’d been told in advance that we’d have the chance meet
with our child. I was so excited, but to be honest, a little bit
nervous. What would I say? Would she like us? What would we do during
the time we had together? All of the children who had sponsors on the
trip were bussed in to meet us at the Children’s Cup Global Leadership
Academy. (I haven’t told you much about the amazing Global Leadership
Academy – and their directors – but check out my friend <a data-mce-href="http://liljalove.blogspot.com/2013/03/gla-community-outreach-amazing.html" href="http://liljalove.blogspot.com/2013/03/gla-community-outreach-amazing.html">Gretchen’s blog</a>
to find out all about it.) The bus arrived right around lunchtime,
along with Kentucky Fried Chicken for the kids. Let me just tell you
that KFC in Swaziland beats any KFC you’ll find in the United States and
I was just a wee bit jealous when I found out that the chicken was only
for the them.<br />
<br />
When the kids arrived I was hoping that I’d
recognize our “daughter,” Nathando, but there were a couple of girls
about the same age who shared a similar haircut so I was out of luck.
Soon enough, though, we were matched up, given our meals and sent off to
find a place to enjoy our lunch. We were also assigned a translator and
even though Nothando speaks some English it was very helpful to have
the translator. At one point I asked her if she had any animals and I
thought she said she had a cat and a duck. So then I asked her if her
family got eggs from the duck. I could tell that she thought that was a
strange question but I couldn’t figure out why until her translator
explained that she’d said DOG not DUCK. Well yes, that would make
getting eggs a bit more challenging.<br />
<br />
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<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
After
lunch we gave Nothando a backpack filled with small gifts. It had been
hard for me to decide what to bring but I ended up taking an Uno game,
some art supplies, a miniature stuffed sock monkey, candy, and a compact
mirror. She giggled a bit when she saw the stuffed monkey and seemed to
like the art supplies, but it was the mirror that she clearly liked the
most. One dollar – that’s what the mirror cost – but the response from
Nothando was worth thousands. She opened it up and very quietly gasped
that excited kind of gasp a person reserves for when they’re really
excited. Then, ever so softly she said “oohhhh, a mirror” like it was
the most precious thing she had ever received. You see, mirrors aren’t a
normal commodity in the impoverished homes of Swaziland. I wasn’t sure
we’d get her to put it away for the rest of the afternoon she was so
excited to look at herself. And who can blame her – she’s adorable.</div>
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</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
During
our time together we played Uno, talked, and took a walk to the nearby
Children’s Cup Care Point. The care point Nothando attends is much like
the one we visited but at her care point they don’t have swings yet and
she loves to swing. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="DSC_0254" class="aligncenter wp-image-486" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg" height="445" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/DSC_0254.jpg"> </a></div>
Despite
all the fun we had the best part of our time together happened when we
were walking down the dusty road to and from the care point. It was then
that Nothando slipped her hand into mine and held on like little girls
do with their mommas. She captured my heart.<br />
<br />
You might be
wondering why it was so hard for me to write about this experience.
Here’s why. I'm embarrassed to tell you it made a difference in the way I
feel about her. It’s not that I didn’t love her before but now I know I
love her! Now she’s not just a picture on a piece of paper. She’s not
just a little girl in need of food, clothing, and education. She’s a
child who doesn’t just need to be supported financially, but also
emotionally. Why did I not understand that before?<br />
<br />
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
Before
we left we had the chance to pray with Nothando; that God would bless
her, and care for her, and show her the great plans He has for her life.
We hugged her, told her we loved her and swallowed our hearts when she
asked, “When are you coming back?” It was a hard good-bye.</div>
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Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-11004714568022583312013-03-11T21:04:00.000-05:002013-03-11T21:04:10.771-05:00Camping - Swazi Style<br />
<br />
Most people would be shocked to know that one of the things that
attracted me to my husband, John, is that he liked to camp. It’s true
though. When I was growing up in California I was a part of a very fun
Girl Scout troop and we did a lot of camping. I loved it! Granted, I
wasn’t so fond of the time we went backpacking but the camping that
didn’t involve carrying things up a hill on my back was a blast. When I
met John I was excited at the prospect of being able to go camping with
him as we traveled through life together.<br />
<br />
What I didn’t
understand, however, is that John and I had totally different ideas on
what it meant to camp. I also didn’t understand that camping in
Minnesota is a totally different experience than camping in California.
When I camped in California it was always at an established campground,
with a team of people, and a bathroom in close proximity of our
campsite. John’s idea of camping is to find a remote location, by
ourselves, with nary a toilet in site. The other huge difference between
camping with my Girl Scout troop in California and camping with John in
Minnesota is the size and quantity of the bugs. While there are bugs in
California there are considerably less mosquitoes and the ones we did
have were about half the size of the ones in Minnesota.<br />
<br />
In other
words, after one night of camping in Minnesota I was longing for a
hotel, preferably one with room service. Roughing it just isn’t my
style. I like lights, I like electricity, I like the fact that the place
I sleep is generally free of biting insects and spiders.<br />
<br />
As you
might imagine, then, when an overnight trip to a game park in Swaziland
featuring huts without electricity and with thatched roofs (where bugs
and geckos hang out) was presented, I was less than excited. It sounded a
lot like camping to me. Though I knew it would be fun to see the
animals, the rest of the trip seemed more like torture than the “fun”
that it was designed to be.<br />
And what was my biggest concern? My
hair. Pretty much all the other women on the team had long hair that
could be pulled into a ponytail or naturally fell straight. My hair, on
the other hand, has the potential to stick straight out in several
directions when I get up in the morning. I totally understood that I was
having first-world problems in a third-world country; it just didn’t
help my mood at the time. Neither did the fact that I was extremely
tired at this point in the trip. But, after a good cry (yes, it’s true, I
cried) I put my big girl panties on and determined to make the best of
it.<br />
<br />
When we arrived at our hut I did a quick survey to see if
there were any visible bugs in the room. The room and the thatched roof
looked fairly clear, but there was a can of roach spray on the counter. I
thought, “Well, this will be good to have on hand if there are any
roaches but what am I to do with the non-roach types of critters?”
Screens on the windows were an added bonus as that isn’t always the
case. I started to breath a little easier. <br />
<br />
Soon, it was time to
head out on our game drive and it did not disappoint; lions, elephants,
vultures and beautiful vistas were a part of our evening drive.<br />
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<br />
Before
climbing into bed at the end of the day I double-checked it for bugs;
using my flashlight and the gas lamp provided. In my world, if there
aren’t bugs on the bed when I get in they most assuredly won’t show up
in the middle of the night. Please, let me continue to live in this
delusional state.<br />
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />
When
the alarm went off at 4:30 AM for our early morning drive I realized I
had slept better that night than any other night of the trip. As
an added bonus, my hair looked somewhat respectable. And, as we headed
out to see the giraffes, impalas, rhinos and storks I could almost hear
God say, “You see, Nancy, I’ve got your back. There was no need for the drama."<br />
<br />
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And
once again, I am reminded to trust the One who loves me so much that he
knows the number of hairs on my head – and keeps them under control at
just the right time.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-29790352504490322902013-03-04T09:12:00.002-06:002013-03-04T09:12:57.335-06:00The Hardest QuestionJohn and I returned last Thursday from a mission trip to Swaziland,
Africa. When a person comes home from a trip such as this the obvious
question from friends is “How was your trip?” Even after nine mission
trips I find this an incredibly hard question to answer.<br />
<br />
There are
so many things that happen on a mission trip that it’s hard to quickly
summarize it all into a few short sentences. I’ve seen poverty that most
Americans can’t even fathom. I’ve met women who work harder to wash a
few items of clothing than I work to do four loads. I’ve seen young
girls who are at great risk of being victims of human trafficking and
others who are already caught in the web. And, I’ve held crying women in
my arms that are struggling with a depression they can’t seem to shake.<br />
<br />
It’s
overwhelming and hard to put into words when someone asks the seemingly
reasonable question, “How was your trip?” It takes me a few weeks,
sometimes even a few months, to process all that I’ve seen and
experienced; which is what makes the ever-present question so
challenging.<br />
It’s not all hard though. One of the joys of going on
a mission trip is having a front row seat to some pretty miraculous
stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I know that miracles happen every where –
every day; it’s just that I can get so wrapped up in my own little world
that I miss them. Even on a mission trip I can get pretty
self-absorbed (I’ll save that story for another day) and miss the
miracles, but on this trip to Swaziland I actually watched God multiply
time. Let me explain.<br />
<br />
My husband, John, is an optometrist. He had
the opportunity to spend a day examining eyes and providing glasses for
people who needed them. Knowing the hours available for seeing patients
John figured he’d be able to see about 70 patients. When we arrived at
church on Saturday morning (the day planned for eye exams) there were
already at least 50 people in line to have their eyes checked. John, two
team members, and I got the “exam room” set up and glasses ready to
dispense. I walked back out to do my job of putting drops in everyone’s
eyes (a job which requires no special training other than the ability to
pry open eyes that refuse to cooperate) and saw that the line of
patients had already doubled and it was only 9:00 in the morning! I
would just barely get the drops in a few people’s eyes and it seemed
like another 20 people would show up. By
10:00 AM there were nearly 150 people waiting.<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0056/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0056/" rel="attachment wp-att-439" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/DSC_0056-500x267.jpg" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/DSC_0056-500x267.jpg" height="213" width="400" /></a> (Most of the people
sitting in this picture were in line.) I knew there was no way that John
could see them all and my heart was broken. The nurse with Children’s
Cup (the organization we worked with) encouraged me while tears flowed
from my eyes. She told me that God only asked us to do what we could.
Still, I grieved as we made the announcement that there would not be
time to see everyone.<br />
<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/img_0910/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/img_0910/" rel="attachment wp-att-442" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignleft" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/IMG_0910-500x376.jpg" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/IMG_0910-500x376.jpg" height="263" width="350" /></a>Running through my mind, however, was the
story from Matthew 14 about the feeding of 5000 people and I thought to
myself, “If God can feed 5000 people (and really he fed even more than
that) with five loaves and two fish then he can surely multiply time and
allow John to see more than 75 people.” And I prayed for that exact
thing – for God to multiply time. I had counted the people up to the 70<sup>th</sup> person and when I saw him move to the front of the line by 1:15 PM, I knew I was watching a
miracle take place. At the end of the day nearly 150 people had been
seen. Though some had left when we made the announcement earlier no one
who was still there was turned away. We’d also told them that John
could see the first 20 people who showed up on Sunday morning; he saw 35
more. In those two days over 125 pairs of glasses were dispensed. <a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" class="alignright" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/DSC_0053-331x500.jpg" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/03/DSC_0053-331x500.jpg" height="300" width="199" /></a><br />
<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>
<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Seeing
that all transpire was amazing but equally as awesome was watching one
woman look <a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/03/the-hardest-question/dsc_0053-2/" rel="attachment wp-att-440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>through her new reading glasses for the first time. The smile
that spread across her face as she realized that she could read again
would melt even the hardest of hearts. On that day, in her world, she
was experiencing a new kind of miracle, the miracle of sight.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-69753099894665157062013-02-11T09:00:00.000-06:002013-02-11T09:00:02.327-06:00Hello, My Name is Nancy . . . . Hello, my name is Nancy and I have a problem. Apparently, I’m
addicted to television. To be honest, this came as a shock to me.
Seriously. When people would ask me about a particular show I would say,
“I really don’t watch much t.v.” I have four shows that I watch
regularly and they generally flip flop, two per season; so that tallies
up to about two to three hours a week. Or so I thought BEFORE we gave up
television for three weeks. Here’s how it all got started.<br />
<br />
Every
year in January our church encourages us to participate in 21 days of
prayer and fasting. While fasting generally refers to not eating, or
giving up a certain type of food, or a certain meal every day, that’s
not what we (meaning John and I) did. For reasons I won’t go into here,
giving up food isn’t really an option for us. For a couple of years I
gave up Facebook during this time but that was complicated because
people message me through Facebook and then wonder why I’m not
responding to their inquiries. Suffice it to say, we needed a change
and that is why we turned off the television: no news, no shows, no
chitchat in the background.<br />
<br />
It didn’t take long for me to notice
this annoying twitch in my right shoulder. It seems that every morning
when I go into the bedroom to get dressed I automatically reach up to
turn on the television, which is suspended on a stand over John’s
dresser. And then I would remember, “Oops, no t.v.” I kid you not; this
“twitch” lasted for two and a half weeks! And it wasn’t just when I’d
go in to get dressed in the morning; it was EVERY SINGLE TIME I went
into my room. I guess I felt like I might actually learn something of
value in the 30 seconds it takes me to put on my shoes. Seriously, what
is wrong with me?<br />
<br />
On the up side, each time I would reach to turn
on the television it would remind me to pray. John and I both agreed
that the three weeks without t.v. was beneficial in many ways. He
managed to read through several of the 40,000 magazines he has lying
around the house (which THRILLS me because now they can go out the
door!) I read five books (only three were novels which read much faster
than non-fiction) and best of all; we talked more - much more. That can
only be good, right?<br />
<br />
At one point, John mentioned that perhaps we
could cut back on our television watching permanently. I agreed thinking
that was a great plan. Then, he said, “Maybe we can even get rid of
Tivo.” I just looked at him calmly and said, “Honey, that’s the only
thing getting me through this.” I can give up the chitchat. The news, I
gave up years ago (that’s John’s vice.) But, <i>NCIS</i>? Not quite yet. Baby steps . . . baby steps.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-16556725372485704522013-02-04T09:00:00.000-06:002013-02-04T09:00:08.214-06:00Look Who's Here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
We
interrupt this regularly scheduled blog (and really, I’ve got a
schedule now!) to introduce you to the newest addition in the Holte
Family. Jane Elizabeth Holte was born Saturday, February 2, 2013 at
12:55 PM. Of course, most of my Facebook friends, my close friends who
aren’t on Facebook, and my family are already aware of this but still,
there could be one or two people left in the world who don’t know yet.
Right?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
But, here’s what even some of my closest friends might not
have realized. Jane, you may have noticed, was born on Ground Hog’s Day.
I’m so glad she didn’t see her shadow and decide to go back in for six
more weeks because seriously, she had already taken her own sweet time
getting here in the first place. Anyway, it’s no big deal, of course,
until you realize that her brother, Charlie, was born on April Fool’s
Day. So we’re thinking that all future babies (assuming there are more
but this is NOT the time to ask their mom) should be born on obscure
holidays. Not the big ones; like Christmas, Easter or Thanksgiving, but
something smaller like Presidents’ Day or St. Patrick’s Day.<br />
<br />
OR, I’m also thinking that it might work if the next baby came on the 3<sup>rd</sup> of some month being as child number one was born on the 1<sup>st</sup> and Child number two was born on the 2<sup>nd</sup>. Now, if we could just find an obscure holiday that fell on the 3<sup>rd</sup>, we’d have the next child’s birthdate pretty well wrapped up. Or not. <br />
<br />
To
be honest, besides letting you know that I’m crazy in love with our new
granddaughter, I wanted to share just a few pictures. We think she’s
beautiful.<br />
<br />
Mom and Dad are over the moon in love! <br />
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<br />
As is Nana, even though Janey doesn't look all that excited to meet me. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Oh sure, Boppa gets to meet her when she's all sweet and sleepy! <br />
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Charlie loves his new sister - most of the time. Grandma Jane is pretty excited about the choice of names, of course.<br />
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<br />
And, lucky for me, Charlie still loves to snuggle! <br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<br data-mce-bogus="1" />Next Monday I will return to my regularly scheduled blog - unless, of course, something crops up in the meantime. </div>
Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-62907581188217921082013-01-28T09:22:00.002-06:002013-01-28T09:22:35.210-06:00Tip of the Month - Stop the Bleeding<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
It seems
that over the years I’ve learned a thing or two that have just plain
helped me out. (Somehow “over the years” seems to translate in my mind
to “you’re older than dirt” but I’m just going to ignore that for the
time being.) Whether it is an easier way to do something or a secret for
getting a stain out of my favorite top, there are just a few tips that
are too good to keep to myself. So, I’ve decided that once a month –
until I run out of tips - I’m going to share some of my “wisdom” with
you.</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
For
my first trick (and yes, this one really is so amazing it seems like
magic) let me share with you how to set the color in an article of
clothing. The other day I was hand washing a dark red blouse (because
it’s cheaper and generally more effective than dry cleaning.) As I
washed it I noticed the water in the sink was turning as red as the
blouse and if I didn’t do something soon, I’d have a pink top instead of
a red one. Time
to pull out the vinegar. <a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/01/DSC_0570-Version-2.jpg" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/01/DSC_0570-Version-2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="DSC_0570 - Version 2" class="alignleft" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/01/DSC_0570-Version-2.jpg" height="401" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/media/2013/01/DSC_0570-Version-2.jpg" width="268" /></a>Yep, standard household white vinegar. I
filled the sink with water, added a couple of “glugs” (a highly
technical measurement that one hears instead of sees) of vinegar and
then put my blouse back in the water. I let it soak for about 15 minutes
and bam, no more color bleeding! Amazing, right? This also works for
those pesky blue jeans that turn your hands blue by the end of the day.
You know, the ones that leave you thinking “has the circulation left my
hands completely?” or “do I really touch my legs that often?” You won’t
want to do this in the sink, of course, but it can be done in the
washer, too. You might need three of four “glugs” of vinegar to
compensate for the increased amount of water, but you get the idea.</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
There
you have it. My easy peasy tip for stopping the color bleeding! (Oh,
you weren’t expecting a medical tip when you saw the title, were you?)<br />
<br />
Now, because this is my first monthly tip I’m going to give you a little bonus. Follow this <a data-mce-href="http://www.joyfullybecca.com/2013/01/pinterest-fail-and-prevail.html" href="http://www.joyfullybecca.com/2013/01/pinterest-fail-and-prevail.html">link</a> and go to my friend, Becca Grove’s blog. She has a hard-boiled egg tip that’ll blow your mind!Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-41843703913970004932013-01-21T15:35:00.001-06:002013-01-21T15:42:45.304-06:00Walking Isn't for WimpsI have taken up walking – for exercise, I mean, not just for moving
from one place to another. This is not normally noteworthy, I
understand, but what you don’t know about me is that I absolutely hate
walking. My feet always hurt, I get bored, and occasionally I even
sweat. And I hate sweating more than I hate walking. It’s just so, um,
gross. Nonetheless, I have determined that walking on a regular basis
would give me more endurance, and heaven knows I could use a dose or two
of endurance.<br />
<br />
I’ve tried walking regularly in the past, but to be
honest I’ve been unable to find anything that would distract me from
the pain – and yes, I’m talking about real, physical pain. It appears
that my feet don’t enjoy the process any more than I do. My hope is that
eventually they’ll just get used to it and stop their whining.<br />
<br />
Thus,
my first challenge was to find something that could shout louder than
my feet. I figured out that podcasts required concentration and would
give me something to focus on, kind of like Lamaze breathing during
labor. My first day out I turned on my podcast, walked 15 minutes in one
direction and then turned back towards home. I took my phone along in
case I needed to call 911 somewhere along the way. Later that night, I
was trying to figure out how far I’d walked, so I asked my husband for
his guess based on the route I’d taken. When he said about a mile and a
half I was shocked! So shocked that I actually got up out of bed at
11:00 p.m., put my coat on over my pajamas, and drove the route to see
if he was right. Turns out, it was only 1.2 miles, but hey, this was
just my first day!<br />
<br />
True to their natural bent, my feet have indeed
been complaining – some days more than others. Determined to have the
upper hand in this battle of the wills with my feet, I walk anyway.
After one particularly painful day a friend told me that she’d seen me
walking. I asked her, “Did I look like I was about to cry?” (Because I
was.) She told me that she couldn’t tell because I was looking down at
the ground. Note to self: When you stare at the ground, it puts your
whole body alignment out of whack – look up! I’m not sure when I started
the practice of walking with my head down, but I’m going to guess it
was during the 1980s when there were Lego pieces scattered all around
our house. Those babies HURT when you step on them!<br />
<br />
After
my crying day I decided to take a day off and find other footwear, which I did. I actually found a <a href="http://nholte.blogspot.com/2012/11/im-in-love.html" target="_blank">pair of shoes</a> that are pretty much an answer
to prayer. But even perfectly fitting shoes have a break-in period, and
apparently I forgot to pay attention to that fact. Before too long my
feet were back to shouting in protest, but I didn’t want to quit. So I
took a few Advil and persisted in my walking regimen. Apparently another
friend spotted me out walking that day (you gotta love a small town)
and told me, “Nancy, you know I love you, but when I saw you walking you
had the worst look on your face.”<br />
<br />
“You mean, like I was in intense pain?” I asked.<br />
<br />
“Exactly like that.”<br />
<br />
Who
knew so many people would be watching me while I walk? And who knew
that they’d expect me to look happy? That seems like a lot to expect if
you ask me. Clearly walking isn’t for wimps.<br />
<br />
I will persist. I’m
convinced that once my feet understand my determination they will stop
protesting so loudly. In the meantime, I recommend you buy stock in
Advil. I hear it’s flying off the shelf.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-64445260515815711542013-01-14T11:00:00.003-06:002013-01-14T11:00:58.164-06:00Dishin' Up Love All Year Long<br />
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<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/01/dishin-up-love-all-year-long/dishin/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/01/dishin-up-love-all-year-long/dishin/" rel="attachment wp-att-322"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-322" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/dishin-520x346.jpg" height="346" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/dishin-520x346.jpg" style="border: 0px; cursor: default; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="dishin" width="520" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In December I was honored to be asked by my friends at <a data-mce-href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com" href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/">The Ruth Experience</a> to be a guest blogger. My plan was to post this blog at the same time they posted my guest blog on their site. As you can see, that didn’t happen. The Ruth Experience girls are the ones who came up with the Advent Acts of Kindness idea <a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2012/11/spreading-kindness-2/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2012/11/spreading-kindness-2/">I wrote about in November</a>. For my “guest spot” I wrote a bit of a follow-up article on my experience with my own Advent Acts of Kindness. It may have been written during the Advent season but the sentiment behind it applies to every month of the year. If you haven’t read it yet click <a data-mce-href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/2012/12/christmas-in-july.html" href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/2012/12/christmas-in-july.html">here</a> to get to their blog and see what I had to say. Go ahead and read it now, it’s o.k.; I can wait.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you read it you now know that I’m a huge fan of committing to Acts of Kindness all year round. We don’t need to limit them to the Advent season. There are plenty of ways that you can encourage and bless others that will cost you nothing other than your time. Today, I’d like to highlight one ministry you might consider getting involved with. To be actively involved in this you’ll need to live within driving proximity of Burnsville, MN but the non-profit organization I’m going to tell you about has the potential to sweep the nation as more people get involved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend, Kirsten Shabaz, recently started a 501(c)(3) non-profit called <em><a data-mce-href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/" href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/">Dishin’ Up Some Love</a>.</em> What she does (along with a few volunteers) is put together freezer meals once a month and delivers them to families who are experiencing some sort of crisis. It could be they have a family member dealing with a stroke, going through cancer treatment, or any other type of life-altering situation. <em>Dishin’ Up Some Love</em><a href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/" target="_blank">http://dishinupsomelove.org/</a> doesn’t just offer food, they also provide encouragement and prayers for the families they serve. I’ve known Kirsten for a long time and ever since we first met she has had a passion to provide for people in need. By the way, the meals she makes are delicious! I’ve personally been privileged to receive a couple of these meals when I’ve been sick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are three ways you can get involved with <em><a data-mce-href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/" href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/">Dishin’ Up Some Lov</a>e.</em> You can:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Volunteer</strong> a couple hours each month to help put meals together. Even though I have a profound dislike of cooking, this idea sounds kind of fun to me. A bunch of girlfriends together, talking, and helping others in the process? It’s a win-win! Contact Kirsten at <a data-mce-href="mailto:Kirsten@dishinupsomelove.org" href="mailto:Kirsten@dishinupsomelove.org">Kirsten@dishinupsomelove.org</a>. for the time and location.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Host a Partnership Dinner</strong> – invite your family, friends, neighbors, co-workers or anyone else you like to have at the dinner to hear about <a data-mce-href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/" href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/"><em>Dishin’ Up Some Love</em></a>. There is more information about this on the <em><a data-mce-href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/About.html" href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/About.html">Dishin’ Up Some Lov</a>e</em> website in the newsletter found under the “about” tab.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Donate</strong> – As you probably know; food isn’t free. Kirsten does an amazing job of collecting coupons and planning good meals that can be made at a minimal cost. Nonetheless, funding for food is pretty much a necessity with this kind of a ministry. Look for the “donate” button also found under the <a data-mce-href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/About.html" href="http://dishinupsomelove.org/About.html">“about” tab</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And while this ends my commercial for one amazing ministry it does not end my mission to continue with “Advent Acts of Kindness” all through the year. I hope you’ll join me in that adventure. Trust me, if you do, you will be blessed!</span></div>
Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-16277600979774361262013-01-07T10:45:00.001-06:002013-01-07T10:45:21.129-06:00The Perfect MomentI’m not a professional photographer by any means, but I know enough
to recognize a great picture when I see it. And, sometimes when I look
at a picture I wonder how the photographer managed to show up, at say
the Grand Canyon, just as a storm settled over it and the lighting was
perfect. I realize that people who take exceptional, National Geographic
types of shots, spend a lot of time just sitting and waiting for the
perfect moment. They get up early in the morning to catch the sunrise
and sit outside in sub-zero temperatures for hours to capture the
Northern Lights. I will never be that kind of photographer; primarily
because I’m not a morning person and I’m not terribly fond of the cold.
Nonetheless, sometimes a good shot is simply a matter of ending up in
the right place at the right time. This weekend, I was in such a spot.<br />
<br />
We
were traveling in northern Minnesota and the hoarfrost was something to
behold. The whole morning had been beautiful but at one moment in the
trip we rounded a curve and the sight was like none I’d ever seen. The
trees sparkled as though God had taken a shaker of white glitter and
poured it over them. It was breathtaking. I can’t even begin to
describe the moment. I’d say it looked like a movie set but it was even
more perfect than that. I actually got tears in my eyes. I know . . . it
sounds corny. But for a few minutes I felt like I was in the presence
of God; the holy creator, designer and artist. It was AWESOME!<br />
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Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-39872676731384800272012-12-13T22:00:00.000-06:002012-12-13T22:00:12.214-06:00My Remarkable DayWednesday morning, December 12, 2012, I posted on Facebook that I
felt the need to do something remarkable being as the date was 12/12/12.
Getting married wasn’t an option since I took care of that in 1975. And
having a baby was, thankfully, impossible. Think, think, think. What
could I possible do to make this day remarkable?<br />
<br />
Within seconds
after posting my comment on Facebook I found a very important piece for
my camera tripod that had been missing for months. I was sure I’d looked
in every possible location but it suddenly hit me that there may have
been one spot I’d forgotten to check. Sure enough, there it was. Now
some people may not consider this remarkable but to me it was a bit of a
miracle; particularly because I was planning to go to the camera store
that afternoon and order a new piece!<br />
<br />
Well, right after my “little
miracle” of finding the tripod piece I thought to myself, “Maybe
instead of trying to DO something remarkable I should just take note of
all the remarkable things that happen. And thus, I present to you here,
a few of the remarkable things I noticed.<br />
<br />
<strong>Remarkable Kids and Teachers:</strong>
Our little granddaughter, Lady A, goes to a Mom’s Day Out once a week.
They had a little Christmas program on Wednesday and it was AWESOME!
There is really nothing much more entertaining than a bunch of
pre-pre-school kids singing, dancing, standing there with their hands in
their mouths, smiling, and crying all at once! The kids (especially
Lady A) AND the teachers were definitely remarkable!<br />
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<strong>The Roads:</strong>
We had a huge snowstorm on Sunday that has left our Minnesota roads in a
bit of a mess. When you start with sloppy wet snow and then the
temperature drop precipitously it creates what we call “scattered
slippery spots” although to be honest, in some areas they weren’t so
terribly scattered. On Wednesday, with temperatures in the low 40’s
there was plenty of melting going on and the Minnesota Department of
Transportation was diligently working for the fourth day in a row trying
to get the roads clear. Too often, we here in Minnesota, take those
plow drivers for granted when in fact, they are really quite remarkable.<br />
<br />
<strong>Parking Spots:</strong>
After Lady A’s little program I had some errands to run, one of which
was to the Mall of America. I had a lot to accomplish in a short period
of time so I was very excited to find a parking spot right across from
the entrance. This also meant I could leave my coat in the car which is
always, well, remarkable.<br />
<br />
<strong>Shopping with my iPhone</strong>:
One of the things I wanted to accomplish was getting some Christmas
gifts. Now, I can’t tell you where I was, or who I was shopping for, but
let’s just say I got some input from someone by sending pictures of
certain items to my helper via my iPhone. If you’re under the age of 40
this may not seem so unusual to you, but if you, like me, grew up before
the internet was even invented then you know, this was indeed
remarkable.<br />
<br />
<strong>Unexpected Discounts</strong>: Some women are
geniuses at knowing when stores are going to have a sale and getting
there on that day. I am not one of those women. So, when I arrived at a
certain, yet unnamed store, and found out that everything in the store
was 30% off I was ecstatic. A chance to buy more! Um, I mean a chance to
save money. And, on top of that, I even managed to bring along my 20%
off coupon which they took off of the total after the 30% discount.
Basically the fact that I happened upon a great sale was, again,
remarkable!<br />
<br />
As you can see, it was a very ordinary day made
different by the choice I made to look for the remarkable. And I would
be willing to bet that each of us, if we took the time, would be able to
find plenty of remarkable things in every one of our days.<br />
<br />
Try it! I think you’ll be amazed at what really is remarkable when you are looking for it. Let me know what you find.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-72954038715408520732012-12-10T10:09:00.001-06:002012-12-10T10:09:18.935-06:00It's NOT Bob's Tail!<br />
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<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2012/12/its-not-bobs-tail/dsc_1258-version-3/" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2012/12/its-not-bobs-tail/dsc_1258-version-3/" rel="attachment wp-att-281"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-281" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/DSC_1258-Version-3-520x346.jpg" height="346" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/DSC_1258-Version-3-520x346.jpg" style="border: 0px; cursor: default; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="DSC_1258 - Version 3" width="520" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It seems people have a limited tolerance for Christmas
music. I would say, based on absolutely no study whatsoever, that most people
don’t want to hear any Christmas carols before Thanksgiving and are pretty much
done listening to them by December 26. I get this. There aren’t really more
than a few hundred Christmas songs that we hear on a regular basis and by the
end of the season we’re pretty much done for another year. But maybe the real
reason we don’t want to hear those songs all year long are because of the
memories they evoke. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For instance, every time I hear <i>I’ll be Home for Christmas</i> it takes me back to the first year I was
away from my family for Christmas and celebrating in the foreign land of
Minnesota. There were plenty of tears that year, and if I remember correctly,
the following year also. Eventually, I adjusted and appreciated the joy of
celebrating new traditions with our growing family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then there is <i>Silent
Night </i>which can simultaneously make me laugh and cry. I’m not entirely sure
when this started but for the past several years it seems that a good portion
of the members in our family struggle to get through the singing of this song
at the Christmas Eve service. We don’t want them to eliminate it from the
service, mind you, it’s just we seem to be unable to get the words out without
a flood of inexplicable tears. So now,
we all watch each other to see who will crack first; either that, or we avoid
looking at each other completely in hopes that perhaps THIS will be the year we
don’t fall apart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just the other night, however, I noticed that there is one
Christmas song that brings back a memory that still annoys me – <i>Jingle Bells</i>. Yes, <i>Jingle Bells</i>. Remember in the 80’s when the game <i>Trivial Pursuit</i> was so popular. (If you
weren’t born yet consider yourself lucky you missed this game.) You could
hardly go to a party without playing that game and occasionally it was the reason
for the party. In general, I love games but I never really enjoyed <i>Trivial Pursuit</i>; probably because I’m
pretty competitive and stink at remembering what other people deem important.
So, what does <i>Jingle Bells</i> have to do
with <i>Trivial Pursuit</i>, you ask?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, one of the questions in <i>Trivial Pursuit</i> posed to my team during a highly competitive round (they
are all highly competitive in my mind) was “What is the name of the horse in the
Christmas song, <i>Jingle Bells</i>? Now I
could sing <i>Jingle Bells </i>in my sleep
and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is not one mention of any
horse’s name in that song. In case you are unaware of the lyrics I present them
here: </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dashing through the
snow<br />
In a one horse open sleigh<br />
O'er the fields we go<br />
Laughing all the way<br />
Bells on bob tails ring<br />
Making spirits bright<br />
What fun it is to laugh and sing<br />
A sleighing song tonight<br />
<br />
Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells<br />
Jingle all the way<br />
Oh, what fun it is to ride<br />
In a one horse open sleigh<br />
Jingle bells, jingle bells<br />
Jingle all the way<br />
Oh, what fun it is to ride<br />
In a one horse open sleigh<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do you see a horse’s name? Do you want to know what the
makers of <i>Trivial Pursuit </i>said it
was? Bob. And that was the night I quit playing <i>Trivial Pursuit.</i> It’s not “Bob’s tail,” people, it’s “bob tails!”
It’s what you do to the tail of the horse, which if I’m not mistaken means
“cutting it short” although I believe it can sometimes mean tying the horses
tail up to make it appear shorter. Either way, THE HORSE IS NOT NAMED BOB! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I suppose I really need to let this go, huh? I mean, it’s
been 30 years. I don’t even remember if my team won or lost that night. And to
be totally fair to the <i>Trivial Pursuit</i>
team I have been known to misunderstand the words in a song or two in my life.
But that’s a story for another day.</span></div>
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Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-86541298102913318182012-11-21T15:18:00.000-06:002012-11-21T15:18:23.241-06:00Spreading Kindness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The
other day I received a card in the mail. Not a Christmas card, not a
Thanksgiving card, just a sweet note card. This is what it said, "Nancy,
Just a little note to say hi, you're loved, and I'm thankful for you in
my life! You are such a blessing to me. Love, . . . . " It MADE MY
DAY!!! I doubt it took my friend more than a few minutes to write this
note but seriously, to me, it was like she'd sent me fifteen bouquets of
roses - better, really! It was mostly the fact that she thought about
me, appreciated our friendship and took the time to say something. What a
blessing!<br />
<br />
Today I was reading a <a href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>, written by some friends of mine, about <a href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/2012/11/advent-acts-of-kindness.html" target="_blank">Advent Acts of Kindness</a>.
Basically, what they are promoting is spending the next few weeks and
finding ways to bless others so that the whole Christmas season isn't
focused so much on what we are going to get and more on the kindness we
can share with others. I LOVE that idea! And, having just been the
recipient of that kind of kindness, I can tell you it's BIG!<br />
<br />
The <a data-mce-href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/2012/11/advent-acts-of-kindness.html" href="http://theruthexperience.blogspot.com/2012/11/advent-acts-of-kindness.html">Advent Acts of Kindness blog</a> has several links to get you started thinking. One of my favorite links went to <a data-mce-href="http://lillightomine.com/light-em-up-2012.php" href="http://lillightomine.com/light-em-up-2012.php">"Lil Light O' Mine"</a>
which listed 100 ways to "Light 'Em Up" during the Christmas season. Be
sure to check out both of these blogs for some great ideas.<br />
<br />
The
picture at the top of this blog is from a project I worked on last year
at our church. We all got together one evening and packed up boxes to
send to the military men and women serving overseas. It was a blast!<br />
<br />
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So,
here's my challenge to you. Do at least one Random Act of Kindness
between now and Christmas. It could be a simple as writing a note,
bringing cookies to a neighbor or picking up groceries for a friend who
is stressed and overwhelmed. Once you've completed your Act of Kindness
post a comment on this blog and let me know what you did. It'll be fun
to see what creative things people come up with. I can't wait to hear
all about it. And I guarantee - you'll be blessed!</div>
Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-34024803782975105752012-11-14T13:49:00.002-06:002012-11-14T13:49:40.661-06:00I'm in Love<a data-mce-href="http://www.nancyholte.com/?attachment_id=262" href="http://www.nancyholte.com/?attachment_id=262" rel="attachment wp-att-262"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-262" data-mce-src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/DSC_03332-520x383.jpg" height="383" src="http://www.nancyholte.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/DSC_03332-520x383.jpg" title="DSC_0333" width="520" /></a><br />
It's
totally possible that I am in love with a man that I've never met.
Don't panic, I'm not going to leave my husband, but seriously, this guy,
<a data-mce-href="http://www.weilbeing.com/" href="http://www.weilbeing.com/">Dr. Weil</a> is his name, has designed a tennis show that actually fits my foot!<br />
<br />
I
could tell you all about my foot issues and my search for the perfect
shoe. OR, I could tell you about the hundreds, no thousands, of dollars
I've spent on shoes through the years that end up going to the Goodwill
in perfect condition because I've never really worn them more than a few
times. But, instead, I'd rather just keep this brief and tell you that
if you have problem feet, such as I do, this Dr. Weil guy just might
save your life.<br />
<br />
There are a few stores on the west coast that
carry this brand; which is where I originally tried them on.
Unfortunately, they didn't have my size so I went <a data-mce-href="http://www.weilbeing.com/" href="http://www.weilbeing.com/">online</a>
to look for them. As with a lot of athletic shoes, you'll want to order
them about a half size larger than you'd normally wear. I also found them at Zappos.com. Truly, I am so in love with them. <br />
<br />
Basically,
you can just consider this short little update a public service
announcement. You're welcome. We shall return to our regularly scheduled
programming as soon as I have more than five minutes to sit down at the
computer and dump out everything else that is on my mind.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-7577226102492013972012-10-12T20:04:00.000-05:002012-10-12T20:04:16.455-05:00Reading Maniac<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizGtu9aYwCXYo4_3kEAWdYClK_PCXTQ3NxwLICW5s8XAD0ZdYjH1JF7gmWqwsVh6MudjvoBGwvuGOGNHKWbB_l8SlIP3fgRPyfA5l5a_rOFqYtaNER2aXQzhFbTNPQQy4OLmuua9xZb1rI/s1600/books+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizGtu9aYwCXYo4_3kEAWdYClK_PCXTQ3NxwLICW5s8XAD0ZdYjH1JF7gmWqwsVh6MudjvoBGwvuGOGNHKWbB_l8SlIP3fgRPyfA5l5a_rOFqYtaNER2aXQzhFbTNPQQy4OLmuua9xZb1rI/s400/books+image.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I’ve been a bit of reading maniac this year. At least I’ve been as
much of a maniac as a painfully slow reader can be. I like to put book
reviews on my blog because personally, I like to know what others are
reading and what they think about the books they’ve read. I suppose, in
fairness, I should include the books I’ve read that I didn’t like but
I’m a firm believer in the old adage “if you can’t say something nice,
it’s better to say nothing at all.” In an effort to keep this article
short, I’m only including three book reviews. I’ll get back to you with
more later.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Choosing-SEE-Journey-Struggle-Hope/dp/B0054U53R6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089201&sr=1-1&keywords=choosing+to+see" href="http://www.amazon.com/Choosing-SEE-Journey-Struggle-Hope/dp/B0054U53R6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089201&sr=1-1&keywords=choosing+to+see"><em><strong>Choosing to Se</strong></em><strong>e</strong></a> – by Mary Beth Chapman<br />
I had no intention of reading this book. I already knew the story of
the tragic death of Steven Curtis and Mary Beth Chapman’s daughter,
Maria Sue, and didn't think I needed to hear it again. But, my
sister-in-law insisted that I read it. She told me I wouldn’t regret
spending the time on this book and she was oh so right. This amazing
book isn’t just about the loss of Maria Sue. It’s the story of a family;
how they started, how they grew, how they lived and how they grieved.
It’s a story of hope and the amazing love of God. It’s truly a must-read
book.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Hiding-Place-John-Sherrill/dp/0800794052/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089319&sr=1-1&keywords=the+hiding+place+by+corrie+ten+boom" href="http://www.amazon.com/Hiding-Place-John-Sherrill/dp/0800794052/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089319&sr=1-1&keywords=the+hiding+place+by+corrie+ten+boom"><em><strong>The Hiding Place</strong> </em></a>– Corrie Ten Boom with Elizabeth and John Sherrill<br />
When we went to Amsterdam last spring my friend was telling me that we
should go visit Corrie Ten Boom’s house and watch shop museum in
Haarlem. I loved the idea but we only had a short time there so we had
to choose wisely. I thought if I could get my husband to read her book,
I’d stand a better chance of us adding this to our itinerary. My plans
were foiled by my husband’s insistence that sleeping on the airplane was
more important than reading (he’s annoyingly practical sometimes) and
the fact that of the 2.5 days we spent in Amsterdam, the house and watch
shop museum was only open on the last day. But, getting the book wasn’t
a bad idea at all. What an incredible story of strength, faith and
forgiveness. I remembered much of the story of how Corrie and her family
hid the Jews during WWII from hearing it in high school but I most
definitely did not remember the depth of her faith and the length of her
love. If you’ve never read this book, read it; if you have read it,
read it again. You’ll be blessed!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Running-My-Life-Journey-Killing/dp/1595555153/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089547&sr=1-1&keywords=running+for+my+life+lopez+lomong" href="http://www.amazon.com/Running-My-Life-Journey-Killing/dp/1595555153/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350089547&sr=1-1&keywords=running+for+my+life+lopez+lomong"><em><strong>Running for My Life</strong></em></a> – Lopez Lomong<br />
I have a huge long list of “books to read” – so many that I’ve been
trying NOT to add to my list before I get a little further down the
list. But, when I saw that this story had come out I knew I simply must
read it. I bought it and moved it to the top of my list. I’m so glad I
did. Lopez Lomong was one of the Lost Boys of Sudan and yet, competed
this past summer in the 2012 Olympics. From start to finish this book is
gripping. It’s the amazing story of a little boy who loved to run,
stolen from his parents, escaping his captors, living in a refugee camp
and eventually moving to the United States. It’s horrific, sad, funny,
touching and inspirational.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Let me know if you read any of these books and how you like them. I'd love to hear! </span>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-79362468164473548482012-09-24T20:14:00.001-05:002012-09-24T20:48:34.178-05:00Fall Family FunMy friend, <a href="http://www.joyfullybecca.com/" target="_blank">Becca Groves</a>, has a great blog. It's one of my favorites because (and I know this sounds shallow) it's usually long on pictures and short on words. Don't get me wrong; sometimes she tells long stories and they are awesome, but usually, it's just filled with fun pictures. I love watching her little family grow and she is seriously funny, too. So, I decided that tonight it's time for a little "Becca Groves style" blog.<br />
<br />
A little over a week ago we had both grandchildren around so we took a fun morning adventure to the <a href="http://www.aftonapple.com/" target="_blank">Afton Apple Orchard</a>. I hope it will become a yearly tradition because there is so much to do there that it's fun for kids of all ages.<br />
<br />
We started off with a tractor ride into the orchard. This is Amelia's fun face. What? Can't you tell? As for Charlie, well, he's o.k. since he has a stick in his hands and he's on his momma's lap, but wow, that tractor is LOUD! <br />
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Time to pick some apples. Charlie is concentrating very hard at getting one off the tree.<br />
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He pulled so hard that somehow the tree branch got loose and hit momma in the face! Oops!<br />
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Walking through the apple orchard with his momma. He still has his stick. It's his favorite toy.<br />
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And then, there's Miss Independent. She is navigating her way through the fallen apples. <br />
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Amelia finds some apples she wants to pick; two at a time. Let's fill that bag up! I'm not showing you the part where she heaves them at her dad immediately after picking them. <br />
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After the picking is done there was a fun petting zoo area to visit. <br />
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Too close, too close!<br />
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Rocking her sunglasses and riding the dinosaur. How much more fun could a toddler have?<br />
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The cutest, sweetest picks at the orchard! <br />
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Not only did we have a fun family outing, but the apple crisp that showed up later that night was AMAZING! Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-73378998841300845452012-09-11T11:00:00.004-05:002012-09-11T11:00:44.819-05:00One Win - One Loss<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently went to Panama on a mission trip. One thing I learned is that automatic doors
work a bit differently in Panama than they do in the United States. That’s my story, at least.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Admittedly, my first automatic door experience was more
operator error than a difference in culture.
I was with a team of mostly women; we had just picked up our luggage and
were loading the bus. Two girls were
missing so our team leader went to search for them. Of course, about 30 seconds after she left
the bus, the two girls arrived. But now,
our team leader was missing. I thought
to myself, I’ll run back into the airport, look quickly and if I don’t see her
I’ll head right back to the bus because as we all know; if one person keeps
looking for the other the cycle can go on for hours. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went through the doors into the airport, took a quick
glance in each direction, didn’t see our team leader and turned around to walk
back through the doors I’d come in. They
started to close on me and, thinking they were akin to elevator doors, I put my
hand out to stop the door from closing.
It was instinct, I suppose. What
wasn’t instinct was to actually get in a fight with said doors. They continued to close and I immediately
decided I’d have nothing to do with that.
I took both hands, and with one on each door, I forced them open. There was another guy trying to go out the
doors also (which turned out to be “enter only” doors.) At first he just looked at me like I was
crazy but eventually he decided to join in the effort. We won.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple days later I was standing in the elevator of our
hotel. A hotel employee was on the
elevator with me and had gotten out to go tend to something on whatever floor
we were on. Just as the doors were
starting to close I saw a couple of my team members, so I quickly stuck my hand
out to hold the elevator doors for them.
I hold elevators for people this way all the time. Only this elevator
door would have nothing to do with that kind of nonsense. They CLOSED on my arm and refused to open. My arm was stuck and stuck well. I couldn’t
move it in or out, up or down. I had a
pretzel in my hand but I was NOT going to let go of it until I determined there
were no other options. I mean seriously,
it had peanut butter on the inside! I
wish there was a picture because I’m sure that my arm sticking out of an
elevator door desperately clinging to a pretzel looked pretty funny. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being as my brute strength had worked in opening doors
before, I asked my team members to please try to see if they could pull the
doors apart. The doors didn’t budge. At
this point I was afraid I might actually have to drop my pretzel. I really don’t know why I thought that would
help. It’s not as though letting go of
my pretzel would make me stronger than my teammates. I guess I just thought it
looked kind of crazy to hang on so tightly to a pretzel when one’s life was in
peril. I was seconds away from opening
my hand and releasing my pretzel when the hotel employee who’d come up the
elevator with me showed up exclaiming, “Oh my goodness! Push the button!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The button? Which
button? There were six floor buttons, an
emergency button (which I was seriously considering), and a button that said
“AP.” Though I didn’t know that AP stood
for “abra puerta” (translating to “Open Door” in English) I pushed it anyway
because that seemed the most logical – way more logical, it seems, that letting
go of my precious pretzel. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I heard later in the week that one of the male team
members had both hands full when he decided to “hold” the door for someone
approaching the closing elevator doors.
He used his head to stop them. That
would most definitely have been an even better picture than me standing there
gripping my pretzel as though it was my last meal. </span></div>
Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-27019260887162226662012-07-27T21:15:00.000-05:002012-07-27T21:19:53.076-05:00Un Poco<span style="font-family: Arial;">Un Poco – that’s the Spanish word for “a little,” which is
exactly the amount of Spanish that I understand and speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I leave on Monday for a mission trip to
Panama, so that, combined with my general desire to possess at least some
understanding of a second language have me studying Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A few years ago, before leaving on a mission trip to Russia,
I was given Pimsleur’s Conversational Language CD’s and was able to learn some
rudimentary Russian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not enough, really,
to converse but enough to get by for the eight days I was there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, now that it’s time to learn a little
Spanish, I decided that <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Learn-Spanish-Dr-Paul-Pimsleur/dp/0743923553/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1343251496&sr=1-3&keywords=pimsleur+spanish" target="_blank">Pimsleur</a> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">
would be my choice for getting started. Besides, the beginning (quick and
simple) guide was only $8.50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did I
have to lose?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I did take a year of Spanish in both high school and college
so I figured that would give me an edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It has, but it’s a slim, slim edge and I’m fairly certain there is a
direct correlation between giving birth three times and the death of my
language learning brain cells. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Not that
I wouldn’t do it all again.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What I noticed about both the Russian and Spanish version of
Pimsleur’s language CD’s is that the first phrase you learn is “Do you
understand English?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess they figure
that if you can coerce someone into speaking YOUR language, you can immediately
drop any pretense of knowing theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Personally, I think this is a brilliant scheme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So far, I know how to say, “I don’t speak Spanish”, “I don’t
understand Spanish”, “Where is the Columbus Hotel?” (which would be really
handy were that the name of the hotel where we’re staying), “I’m from Chicago”
(which I’m not), and “I have lots of pesos” (which doesn’t really seem like the
kind of thing you’d want to brag about.) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When my husband and I were in Cozumel a few years ago there
were lots of merchants trying to get us to come into their stores and spend our
money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone taught my husband how to
say “I don’t have any money” in Spanish - “No tengo dinero.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next time a guy tried to get us to come
into his store my husband said, “No tengo dinero,” and in response the man
said, “We take credit cards,” in perfect English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It still cracks us up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, when it came time to learn “I have” and
“I don’t have” on my Spanish CD’s they connected it to money – pesos and d<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">ó</span>lares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently, I have it in my brain that the
word “tengo” only ever has to do with having money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing this is not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’m only on lesson six of the first ten beginner CD’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The price for subsequent lessons goes up
substantially, so we’ll see if I make it through the first ten before ordering
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m hoping by lesson ten I will
have learned to say “Please talk more slowly,” because that is going to be key
to me actually understanding anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Other than a million more words that I’ll need to learn in
order to be fluent in Spanish there is one other thing I’ll need to master –
rolling my “r’s.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do they do
that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-12355624915275091932012-07-06T12:14:00.003-05:002012-07-06T12:14:33.491-05:00What's a Shuttle Elevator?<style>
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The other day I had the opportunity to meet a couple of
friends in downtown Minneapolis during their lunch break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got detailed instructions on how to find
the building my friends work in, how to park in the building’s private lot, and
how to find one of their desks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all
seemed very simple; “turn right into the driveway marked ‘private’, come up the
shuttle elevator to level 2, turn right and walk straight ahead to find me.”
Easy peasey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But wait, what exactly is a
shuttle elevator?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In hindsight, I
probably should have clarified this point. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All went as planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I pulled into the driveway marked “Private”, rang the buzzer, and told
the security guy who I was visiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
responded with “is this Nancy?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
impressed and felt ever so slightly important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s the little things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had been told to drive to the first unreserved spot which
ended up being a few levels down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
far, so good; now to find the “shuttle elevator.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I glanced around the parking lot and saw
nothing that even slightly resembled an elevator; shuttle or otherwise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did see a sign for stairs and elevators
are always close to stairs, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
noticed a set of metal doors next to the stairwell and thought perhaps I should
check to see where that led.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure
enough, behind those doors was a dark closet, about three feet deep and six
feet wide, and in the darkness I could make out what looked to be an elevator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seemed a little scary to me, but not
seeing any other options I bravely stepped inside the doors and pushed the
elevator button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it turned out the
“closet” did have a light which was activated by a motion sensor and gave off
about 20 watts of light – at least until it warmed up a bit – which it had
plenty of time to do while I waited for the very slow elevator to arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember thinking it odd that the men and women who came
to work here every day had to step into such a dark spot but hey, if you have
your own private parking lot, I suppose you can put up with a few
inconveniences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the elevator doors
finally opened I noted that every wall was covered in what appeared to be
bullet proof/fire proof metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t
terribly attractive but it did seem to me that this is what a “shuttle
elevator” should look like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I emerged on the second floor a few seconds later and began
the hunt for my friend’s desk. It certainly wasn’t just to the right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning to the right, it seemed, would take
me past the dry cleaning business and out of the building. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, I wondered, didn’t I get my friend’s
phone number before leaving home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, after a bit of perplexed
wandering, I found my friend at her desk - to the left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told her which elevator I’d used and
she laughed, “That’s the freight elevator!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, that explains the industrial strength walls!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you imagine what people walking through
the skyway thought when I emerged from the freight elevator?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it came time to go home my friend walked me to the
“shuttle elevator” and used her pass key to open it. I figured out that
“shuttle elevator” refers to the one that takes people to and from the parking
lot but is not for use by the general public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But now, I had to decide which level to go to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couldn’t I just go back down the freight
elevator?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s right across from my
car!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took a few minutes of
searching, and a couple of “beeps” from my car’s locking system but soon enough
I located my car and before I knew it I was heading home; with a brief stop to
bid good-bye to George – the security guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-82329501237508097012012-06-19T21:29:00.001-05:002012-06-19T21:29:27.463-05:00With Gratefulness<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who invented the cotton gin? – Eli Whitney</div>
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<br /></div>
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Electricity? – Benjamin Franklin</div>
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<br /></div>
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The Model-T? – Henry Ford </div>
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<br /></div>
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The light bulb? – Thomas Edison<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, sort
of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the inventors I remember
hearing about in school when I was growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Turns out, according to my extensive 15 minute internet research, some
of these “inventors,” while brilliant men, were often improving ideas that had
already been formed, thus not the actual “inventor.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, that’s a complicated concept for a
third-grader, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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There is one man whom, I determined today, is NOT getting
enough credit in the history books; the guy who invented air-conditioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 90+ degrees today with plenty of
humidity to go along with it, and this afternoon I, for one, found myself
wondering who in the world this genius was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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So, tonight I decided to do a little research into the subject,
which is what sent me into my “extensive research” mode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out, Willis Haviland Carrier is considered
the inventor of modern air-conditioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hey, you don’t suppose that’s where Carrier Air-Conditioning Systems got
their name, do you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmmm . . . . . </div>
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<br /></div>
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There’s actually a lot to learn about the invention of
air-conditioning but hey, this is a blog, not an encyclopedia site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just content going to bed tonight with
gratefulness in my heart for the fact that God put Willis Haviland Carrier on
the earth before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m also grateful for the fact that we have said
air-conditioning installed in our home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It sure beats the days of sitting in front of a fan with our feet in
cold water. </div>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-57064469771961238652012-06-07T23:57:00.001-05:002012-06-07T23:57:18.749-05:00Back in the DayWhen I was in High School, back in the day as they say, girls and
boys had separate gym classes. Call me old-fashioned, but I thought
that was a good idea and still do. As if it’s not bad enough that every
girl in school knows of your pathetic athletic skills does every boy
really need to know, too?<br />
<br />
As I was exercising the other day something passed through my mind
that brought back those less than cherished memories of high school gym
class. There was an exercise that we did routinely in gym class that
would, we were told, increase the size of our chests. To do said
exercise we’d stand with our arms basically reaching across the front of
our bodies, hands facing downwards with one forearm over the other.
Then, we’d stretch our elbows back with our arms still bent, bring them
forward again, followed by another backwards stretch in which we’d
unbend our elbows and extend the entire arm back as far as possible.
As we did said exercises there was a little chant we said to go along
with it; "We must, We must, We must increase our bust." I’m not saying
they don’t do this particular exercise in gym classes today, I’m just
guessing that the accompanying chant has gone by the wayside. Kind of
sad.<br />
<br />
Speaking as one who hates to exercise, I have to admit, this was a
pretty sneaky tactic those gym teachers were using. I mean seriously,
99.9% of the freshman girls would probably have swallowed goldfish had
they thought it would give them a little more up front. But alas, I’m
not convinced that it actually did any good as we all seemed to end up
to be the size that God had created us to be.<br />
<br />
It did, however, give me something to look back at and chuckle. I wonder what else they lied to us about?Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-70015693169407887942012-05-25T13:28:00.003-05:002012-05-25T13:28:22.783-05:00Where'd He Go?One of the things I like most about the Bible is that it’s always
fresh. By that I mean that I can read the same chapter, or verse, that
I’ve read a hundred times before and have something new pop out at me.
It never ceases to amaze me. <br />
<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago I was reading in the book of John, Chapter 8.
Towards the end of the chapter Jesus is talking with some of the Jewish
leaders and basically telling them that they will only be truly free
when they start to follow Him. This irks them a bit and in verse 48
they say to Jesus, “You Samaritan devil! Didn’t we say all along that
you were possessed by a demon?” Call me crazy but saying to anyone,
“Hey, I think you’re demon-possessed” is not really the smartest thing
to bring up during a “discussion”; particularly when said discussion is
with the Son of God! <br />
<br />
Well, as this little chat of theirs
continues the Jews, with whom Jesus is conversing, get more and more
riled up and they are ready to go to battle. They are so angry that
they start picking up some stones with which to stone Jesus. Now here’s
the part I love. John 8:59 says “At that point they picked up stones to
throw at him. But Jesus was hidden from them and left the Temple.” So
wait, let me get this straight. He was right in front of their eyes
and then “bam!” they couldn’t see him? How cool is that? Did he just
“slip out” when they were all bending down to pick up a stone? Did he
vaporize right in front of their eyes? Were they blinded? The verse
doesn’t really clarify how it happened, just that it happened.<br />
Can’t
you just see the Jews looking at each other with befuddled looks on
their faces? “Hey, he was just here a second ago, where’d he go?” I
love it!<br />
<br />
Personally, I think this says something about the amazing
power of God. To me, Jesus’ ability to be “hidden” is nothing short of
miraculous; but more than that it says that everything happens at the
right time. We already know that Jesus is going to die at the hands of
the Jews but that was not the day for it to happen. God had already
chosen the time when Jesus was to die. In the meantime, He made sure
nothing happened that wasn’t supposed to.<br />
<br />
We can always trust
God’s timing. Some days it may seem as though He is moving particularly
slow, and we may think He’s forgotten us . . . . but He hasn’t. He’s
just waiting for the right time – His time.Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-33786451269859821962012-05-21T14:45:00.000-05:002012-05-21T14:45:15.473-05:00Mules, Carts and Pigeon Poop<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmanKTSmZ-rRGRU7-II077B0O7bZEu7bf_7hn37hbww0reI9n7fDsF-u_L82dOicNIjG7BNNZQ-mM7muKlX4pSnJZEosUqR79DMc1Xkt3Zk5UTLjMVg5Zsxlu4T8sW7Wufr9WrBfY_ulFo/s1600/DSC_7853.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmanKTSmZ-rRGRU7-II077B0O7bZEu7bf_7hn37hbww0reI9n7fDsF-u_L82dOicNIjG7BNNZQ-mM7muKlX4pSnJZEosUqR79DMc1Xkt3Zk5UTLjMVg5Zsxlu4T8sW7Wufr9WrBfY_ulFo/s400/DSC_7853.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Fez is one
amazing very old city. We started today
with a tour of some of Fez's highlights. It was so fun to have a guide who knew
his way around and got us into some places that we could not possibly have
found on our own. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbJGfpAmr21ph6pjhhYg1KtU4eVRQWOUobtLKHOcgshD1Ns9c5wYD_-WobBWhcBT3nxca9FEbmhzPrWh1XuA29p5zF5qTS_bKR7fptweXjiVqjh3ObGXuF4oSVfDr_HCBlfE7T7F0GJi9/s1600/DSC_7873.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbJGfpAmr21ph6pjhhYg1KtU4eVRQWOUobtLKHOcgshD1Ns9c5wYD_-WobBWhcBT3nxca9FEbmhzPrWh1XuA29p5zF5qTS_bKR7fptweXjiVqjh3ObGXuF4oSVfDr_HCBlfE7T7F0GJi9/s400/DSC_7873.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">First off,
I'd like an aerial map of this city.
There are over 9000 streets in this walled city built in 808 AD. As far as I could tell there weren't any
street signs but I guess, to be honest I was trying to keep an eye on our guide
and didn't look for them. I think if
you’re looking for something your directions might sound more like “turn right
at the fig stand, left at the nougats, then straight past the sheep
heads.” And no, I’m not kidding about
the sheep heads; we did indeed see sheep heads for sale. I’ll spare you the pictures. Don’t ask me what they do with them; I don’t
know </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">and I'm pretty sure I don't want to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">No cars are
allowed inside the city of Fez so everything from produce to propane is
delivered by mule, donkey or a cart. The
buildings that make up the city are three or four stories high and the streets
are narrow – maybe eight to ten feet wide.
It’s kind of like if you took New York City, got rid of the cars and
shrink-wrapped it. When animals or carts
are moving in the streets it’s the job of the pedestrians to move out of their
way – and you might just have to dodge some droppings while doing so. It was a cultural experience like no
other. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6HHprCkS3lcHR1E8PfPST0zMlGqNqwKaD1SZ_M_zE2KR4EWUjokocW_d1xHVeqFfUuV1lEEHmq24gkl7lw7FY73HkiazmgEJqUvSiaulGXboKBAJ4OJas7ELmPMu3imaoy-hFvytlWOs/s1600/IMG_3464.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6HHprCkS3lcHR1E8PfPST0zMlGqNqwKaD1SZ_M_zE2KR4EWUjokocW_d1xHVeqFfUuV1lEEHmq24gkl7lw7FY73HkiazmgEJqUvSiaulGXboKBAJ4OJas7ELmPMu3imaoy-hFvytlWOs/s400/IMG_3464.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5uNV81T4Z8j1Z25ZOt_I1rLLlf2uHCaBMBBpzCi51L7MhyYD9G1WrlocpvYoEQWEHuDSXILuV3w8p0vHHn4BqkYALpvfV4PngLrbN2Uf3V7Z-HTb8OYkDmD-Ci-DUUE6s0FvuBT7vIcg/s1600/DSC_7923.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5uNV81T4Z8j1Z25ZOt_I1rLLlf2uHCaBMBBpzCi51L7MhyYD9G1WrlocpvYoEQWEHuDSXILuV3w8p0vHHn4BqkYALpvfV4PngLrbN2Uf3V7Z-HTb8OYkDmD-Ci-DUUE6s0FvuBT7vIcg/s400/DSC_7923.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Shy guy or part of a witness protection program?</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PcDEUEHStskvMRLivrEBtCRMkp1efZN7m9We1ipauaWMK8NTnbEEl1ym5OYd5wx7p2s6NdxikWyEjm9BaAaCN0AH-PayLfbez3ueAFdsolRAO0A2s6Sc1z4A1GndRhX5g8N3ZRvx8pb-/s1600/DSC_7988.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PcDEUEHStskvMRLivrEBtCRMkp1efZN7m9We1ipauaWMK8NTnbEEl1ym5OYd5wx7p2s6NdxikWyEjm9BaAaCN0AH-PayLfbez3ueAFdsolRAO0A2s6Sc1z4A1GndRhX5g8N3ZRvx8pb-/s400/DSC_7988.jpg" width="265" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">There were
four highlights on the tour. We visited
a pre-school with about eight kids in attendance. The school was inside of a small room – maybe
13 x 13 at best, the kids sat at desks and it didn’t appear that there was a
playground anywhere nearby. Nonetheless,
the kids were adorable and sang songs to us and recited the five pillars of
Islam to us like they’d been born knowing them.
Interesting.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Of course,
visiting a mosque was bound to be on the agenda. Our guide told us that there are five things
you’ll find inside of a mosque; a fountain (or some sort of water), marble,
mosaic, plaster and carved wood. I have
to say, however, that I’ve tried to find this information online and can’t see
it so I don’t really know if this is true.
One thing I have learned over the years is that sometimes guides make
stuff up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We also
stopped at a weaving shop where we had the chance to watch scarves being made
and make a few purchases. After they
demonstrated the loom for us they put scarf turbans on everyone on our team for
a photo op. I was in awe of how fast
they were able to do so many different styles of wraps and match the color with
each person’s outfit. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1KDiIeHHjf9FP87nKMAF52oUw431iYGrHRuU78eYeyNKbik6dJBsNdolQGEgs3bhSi4-m5Y6G1qvzybwQDY3pZqm46DbA0vaazB45X3Tm_lyFzFg1CPbtt9mr_u6jaCyw0trHTkHCUxvj/s1600/DSC_7968.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1KDiIeHHjf9FP87nKMAF52oUw431iYGrHRuU78eYeyNKbik6dJBsNdolQGEgs3bhSi4-m5Y6G1qvzybwQDY3pZqm46DbA0vaazB45X3Tm_lyFzFg1CPbtt9mr_u6jaCyw0trHTkHCUxvj/s400/DSC_7968.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Here’s a little tip I’d like to share with you;
if someone ever offers you a sprig of mint either take it and stick it directly
under your nose, or run the other direction as quickly as you can. We were starting into this little shop when I
guy offered me a sprig of mint and I tried as nicely as I could to refuse
it. To be honest, I thought he wanted to
sell it to me; but he was insistent that I take it. Little did I know it would be my only link to
a pleasant smell for the next half hour.
We were entering, it seems, a leather shop, which conveniently
overlooked the local leather tanning operation. STINKY! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I really can’t tell you everything the guy told
us about the leather tanning process but when he mentioned pigeon droppings I
questioned him on it, for clarification purposes. “Pigeon droppings?” I said. And he replied, “Yes, pigeon droppings, as in
pigeon poop,” as though I didn’t know what droppings were. Apparently they are used to help make the
leather soft and supple. Think about
that the next time you buy a pair of shoes.
I found <a href="http://blogs.howstuffworks.com/2009/11/16/how-leather-works/" target="_blank">this video</a> online
which is really pretty intriguing and shows the life of a worker at the Fez
Tannery. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZhHzUpeA-zovJeaYSRF9vkHejGSVmVfjk7Gc8zKXWEd8jcwol_Uv-zJKoTMMMj6p9c5HPSZk09oMzTwi14AgQu4oTtIZ0zq8jcYvUyHBfS9JJvX84413tVmaBxYbw7gBbKcvUgwGUta-/s1600/DSC_7980.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZhHzUpeA-zovJeaYSRF9vkHejGSVmVfjk7Gc8zKXWEd8jcwol_Uv-zJKoTMMMj6p9c5HPSZk09oMzTwi14AgQu4oTtIZ0zq8jcYvUyHBfS9JJvX84413tVmaBxYbw7gBbKcvUgwGUta-/s400/DSC_7980.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Our tour ended with some time for shopping and
some lunch. It was an experience that I’m
glad I didn’t miss but I’m not feeling a strong need to repeat any time
soon, either. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We left Fez on Tuesday morning to begin our
trek back home. We stopped back in
Khemmiset for lunch and then headed to Casablanca for a farewell dinner at Rick’s
Café, made famous by the movie, Casablanca.
What an amazing trip! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span> <br />
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</div>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1363722413151034329.post-62612480833462394592012-05-20T17:00:00.000-05:002012-05-20T17:00:00.530-05:00PAR-TAY!!<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;">
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Saturday - April 28 </div>
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We woke up this morning to pouring rain.
This would not do because today we were throwing a party - a very
special OUTSIDE party for 100 orphan boys.
Ephesians 3:12 says that “Because of Christ and our faith in Him, we can
now come boldly and confidently into God’s presence,” so during our prayer time
that morning that is exactly what I did.
I boldly prayed and petitioned God for sunshine between 10:00 - 3:00,
because a party, in the rain, with just over 100 boys sounded less than fun. And, as we set up for the party there were
still some clouds but it was clear that sunshine was on the way and not one
speck of rain fell between 10:00 – 3:00. Nothing short of miraculous if you ask me.</div>
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After we got
things set up for the party we visited a nursing home that was on the same
grounds as the orphanage. It was truly
one of the saddest things I've ever seen.
Most of the mattresses were on the ground with a few up on bed frames, I
suppose for those who can't get to the ground easily. Although, one of the women on the ground was
paralyzed which means when they move her someone has to lift her up off the
ground. In spite of their circumstances
they were all so excited to see us and we brought them a little kit of
essential care items like soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, etc. It was a sweet, tear-invoking visit.<br />
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We ate lunch
with the boys, which was quite the experience.
They were very polite and we tried to communicate with them, which
generally led to laughter at our attempts to speak each other's languages. Most of them know French, as well as Arabic
and some even know a little English. I learned
how to say, "What is your name?" and "My name is Nancy."
and from there we just smiled and laughed at our ineptness. </div>
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After lunch the
fun began. We had all of the same games
that we’d done on Thursday (minus the now dead 12-foot beach ball) plus a few
more. There was one station where the
kids had one minute to eat four Saltine crackers. That was hysterical. They would put all four in their mouths at
once and try to chew and swallow in less than 60 seconds; which apparently can’t
be done. After about 30 seconds they’d
start to realize there was no way this was going to work and they’d get the
giggles which prompted a saltine cracker eruption from their mouths. Earlier, when we’d been discussing this game
I said “Do we have a prize if they are able to do it?” and was told that it isn’t
humanly possible. I’ve not yet tried it
myself, but hey, you go ahead and let me know how it works for you. <br />
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My job at the
party was to take pictures of the boys on a motorcycle. The worker from Convoy of Hope that we were
helping is planning to make prints of these pictures and deliver them to
the kids later. Can you even imagine how
few pictures you’d have of your childhood if you grew up in an orphanage? I loved the kids’ expressions as they got on
the motorcycles because they would be all smiles up until the moment that they
were ready for their picture. Then, they’d put on this “I’m a cool biker dude”
look until I clicked the camera and then back to all smiles. <br />
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During the
party, in addition to the games, dancing and cotton candy, all of the kids got
new shoes, sandals and a new outfit.
Each child has a locker in his room to store his own stuff. I can’t imagine having just one little tiny cubby
to store everything I owned. It sure
puts a person’s priorities into perspective. <br />
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The day ended
with a wild game of “Last Man Standing” where each child had a balloon attached
to each foot and was supposed to pop the other person’s balloon but keep their
balloon inflated. There was no clear
winner, unless you count the fun that they all had. In that case, they all won. </div>
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After three
days of work (if you can call it that) I can honestly say that I felt like we
were on the front end of a miracle. Though
my work in Morocco is finished for now, there is one thing I know for sure; God has only just begun. </div>Nancy Holtehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13238780992769672936noreply@blogger.com0