<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579</id><updated>2009-10-12T22:03:13.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come to the Table</title><subtitle type='html'>By wisdom a house is built,
and by understanding it is established; 
by knowledge the rooms are filled
   with all precious and pleasant riches. Proverbs 24:3-4</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>346</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-7844827915497087084</id><published>2009-05-22T15:04:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T16:34:07.836-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spiritual Growth'/><title type='text'>A quiet place</title><content type='html'>Over the past several months I have been looking for solitude.  I have been looking for a quiet place to reflect, to meditate on the Word of God, to ponder all that He has done and all that His word promises.  I have stepped away from certain things in my life like blogging trying to force myself to be still before the Lord.   It is hard in the midst of a busy life to be still, let alone try and find a quiet place.   But I also realize that other things such as hurt, grief, difficult circumstances and pain cause us to step away from things that we once enjoyed as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend recently asked me why I didn't blog anymore?  I told her the time it takes not just to write a post, but also the time it requires to read others posts.  I also told her that I have come to a place where sharing so much of myself (or maybe so little of myself) to the world wide web all of a sudden seemed strange.  I am still grappling with that a bit, but praying about where to go with this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that has helped is a study I have been apart of titled, "Discerning the Voice of God" by Priscilla &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Shirer&lt;/span&gt;.  It has been speaking to so many places in my life.  It has been one of those studies that you wonder if she wrote it while listening to your thoughts.  I have hi-lighted or underlined almost every page in the book as well as written all over the margin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has fabulous quotes in the book and this is one of many: &lt;em&gt;"Whoever seeks God as a means toward desired ends will not find God. The mighty God, the maker of heaven and earth, will not be one of many treasures, not even the chief of all treasures. He will be all in all or He will be nothing. God will not be used. his mercy and grace are infinite and His patient understanding is beyond measure, but He will not aid men in their selfish striving after personal gain. He will not help men to attain ends which, when attained, usurp the place He by every right should hold in their interest and affection." A.W. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tozer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's those words, "selfish striving" which jump off the page.  I see so many places in my life where I strive.  Even in that which seems good and right.  Recently the Lord brought me to a familiar verse in Psalm 46.  Verse 10 says, "Cease striving and know that I am God."  It was like a cool breeze on a hot day which carefully moves across your face and brings the comfort you were needing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am learning how to apply this word to my everyday busy life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-7844827915497087084?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/7844827915497087084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=7844827915497087084' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7844827915497087084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7844827915497087084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/05/quiet-place.html' title='A quiet place'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-1916384631813604734</id><published>2009-03-23T09:28:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T09:57:02.408-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Beginning with the end</title><content type='html'>In the midst of a very busy season of life I have been completely captivated by the study of the book of Esther. This morning I finished my last few days of homework and I cried. The journey has been incredibly personal for me. One in which I know I need to record but I am deeply afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I begin with the end. "&lt;em&gt;God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." (Psalm 18:24, The Message)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the last verse in our homework. In session three way back on January 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, one of the many things that has caused me to look more intently at my life was her point &lt;em&gt;"Remember, destiny appoints one but affects many."&lt;/em&gt; She shared this in context to Esther and what she was facing in chapter four. She went on to share, "&lt;em&gt;The revelation of a person's destiny always demands a revelation of the person. Consider the wording "if you remain silent at this time." The Hebrew word translated silent in this verse can also be translated conceal."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beth Moore went on to share, "One of the most important parts of fulfilling our destiny is transparency and it is extremely risky!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to the verse in Psalm 18:24. It took me back to a girl who sat on the edge of her bed in a humble bedroom at a tender and very influential age who decided that she would follow God no matter what. Little did she know what this decision would require. As the years have gone by, and so much has taken place, I can still see in myself this young girl, but I also see a woman who has "remained silent". I don't know yet what God wants me to say. I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;absolutely&lt;/span&gt; afraid to open my mouth. But I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; entrusted my heart to Him, and I know He can handle my mouth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-1916384631813604734?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/1916384631813604734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=1916384631813604734' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1916384631813604734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1916384631813604734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/03/beginning-with-end.html' title='Beginning with the end'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-4564049617081000040</id><published>2009-02-01T22:32:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T22:41:12.998-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Super Bowl Sunday</title><content type='html'>Groceries for finger foods, drinks, and dessert...$23.87&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preparation of wings, veggies, and other foods...1 hour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time spent eating, laughing, screaming and holding our breath while watching the big game...aprox. 4 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cleaning up afterwards...30 minutes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband and Wife dancing during half-time show with five kids...&lt;em&gt;priceless!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-4564049617081000040?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/4564049617081000040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=4564049617081000040' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4564049617081000040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4564049617081000040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/02/super-bowl-sunday.html' title='Super Bowl Sunday'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-733530992989104058</id><published>2009-01-21T23:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T00:04:10.179-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>My Five</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXgL51G_t8I/AAAAAAAABSo/ZGaQyehe8-8/s1600-h/Dec+23+020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293994450110887874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXgL51G_t8I/AAAAAAAABSo/ZGaQyehe8-8/s400/Dec+23+020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Outside Disneyland in Anaheim, California at Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXgLH5Ce2qI/AAAAAAAABSg/zbRS5v-uzYk/s1600-h/Dec+23+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-733530992989104058?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/733530992989104058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=733530992989104058' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/733530992989104058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/733530992989104058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-five.html' title='My Five'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXgL51G_t8I/AAAAAAAABSo/ZGaQyehe8-8/s72-c/Dec+23+020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-9156664719523909231</id><published>2009-01-15T21:59:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T23:58:18.095-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>It's January</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXAMtzCmnMI/AAAAAAAABSQ/yUGFAAGF29I/s1600-h/January09+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291743543095106754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXAMtzCmnMI/AAAAAAAABSQ/yUGFAAGF29I/s320/January09+010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have not blogged in so long, I don't even know where to begin. So I'll start with today. It is cold! It is well below zero and it is just plain cold. I don't think two weeks in California over Christmas helped me to prepare for the frigid temps we have had the last few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this photo yesterday for &lt;a href="http://heiswritingourstory.blogspot.com/"&gt;Carolyn&lt;/a&gt;. Sorry, no cute kids standing outside in this stuff. It was - 26 when I poked my head outside to grab a photo. We watched as the wind blew and drifted snow up against our house forming all kinds of fun shapes.&lt;br /&gt;I loved Hunter's comment, "mom it may be cold outside but the snow is beautiful, especially the snow that has not been touched." He is right! The kids have been home from school for two days. I think they had cabin fever more yesterday than today. But then again I was gone for part of the day and maybe it was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking alot lately about the start of a new year. I love a fresh clean page in a new journal or the look of an empty canvas waiting to be filled in with vibrant colors. For the last several weeks I have had a hopeful expectation over things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In December I started working my way through &lt;a href="http://www.nancyguthrie.com/"&gt;Nancy Guthrie's&lt;/a&gt; study book on the Book of Hebrews titled, "&lt;a href="http://www.nancyguthrie.com/books/hoping_book.shtml"&gt;Hoping for Something Better.&lt;/a&gt;" But I couldn't get past the words, "In Jesus" in the second verse of chapter one. I was stuck. I knew that I needed to plant myself there and just let the words soak into my heart. Nancy says in her book, "In Jesus, God is saying, "&lt;em&gt;I want to show you who I am." &lt;/em&gt;We would never know God if he did not speak to us. and he wants us to know him for who he really is, not for who we want to make him to be. So many times we want to make him into a God who suits our liking. We hear people say, "Well, the God I believe in would never.... or I believe God is....almost as if we can determine what God is like merely by the whims of our own imaginations. God doesn't need our help in designing his personality or deciding what he should be like. He is I AM, the eternal, self-existing one. And he wants us to see him and know him for who he really is." Nancy then takes you through the character of God. And this is where I am planted. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know. I feel like a wilted plant sometimes who is instantly propped back up once I have been given a drink of the Living Word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week as we watched the introduction video on the &lt;a href="http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-tough-being-woman.html"&gt;Book of Esther, Beth Moore&lt;/a&gt; shared with us that the book offers tremendous "hope".  She defined biblical hope as an anxious expectation. I love when God ties things together for me and keeps speaking the same things over and over. It sometimes takes a neon light flashing "hope" to get my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow marks a year since &lt;a href="http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/01/daughters-heart.html"&gt;I received a phone call that my dad had died&lt;/a&gt;. My heart still aches at times over what I never knew. As a young teenage girl I had always dreamed of spending Christmas with my dad, just once. I never did. I know why God wants to teach me about hope, His hope. He desires to bring hope to those places in our hearts that only He can fill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Christ, I have tremendous hope for 2009. Without Him there is no hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-9156664719523909231?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/9156664719523909231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=9156664719523909231' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9156664719523909231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9156664719523909231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-january.html' title='It&apos;s January'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SXAMtzCmnMI/AAAAAAAABSQ/yUGFAAGF29I/s72-c/January09+010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-1028846378392973236</id><published>2009-01-06T17:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T17:29:45.631-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women&apos;s Ministry'/><title type='text'>It's tough being a woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SWPmMCWcrDI/AAAAAAAABQ0/Wck0kIFog9Q/s1600-h/Esther.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288323481926937650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SWPmMCWcrDI/AAAAAAAABQ0/Wck0kIFog9Q/s320/Esther.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It began today! I am so excited to be offering this study to the ladies of our church. This morning a wonderful group of women gathered to watch the introductory lesson. There were three newbies to our normal Tuesday morning group and that makes me super happy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight another group of women are meeting. I am excited to see what the Lord will do with this group of 18 - 30ish year olds. This group is not exclusively for this age group but I hope to address some things women are faced with during this season of their life. Mostly, I pray their hunger for God and His word will increase. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A third group of ladies will be gathering on Thursday night in a home. This is something new and we are praying this additional opportunity will allow even more women an opportunity to study the word together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you live in the area...join us! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-1028846378392973236?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/1028846378392973236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=1028846378392973236' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1028846378392973236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1028846378392973236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-tough-being-woman.html' title='It&apos;s tough being a woman'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SWPmMCWcrDI/AAAAAAAABQ0/Wck0kIFog9Q/s72-c/Esther.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-9082849210198536921</id><published>2008-12-07T08:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T08:22:36.722-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthdays'/><title type='text'>4 Years Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/STvbYsbubVI/AAAAAAAABNE/lgzXy9KmlL0/s1600-h/12_04_08+063.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277052605685460306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/STvbYsbubVI/AAAAAAAABNE/lgzXy9KmlL0/s400/12_04_08+063.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hold your fingers up high Coleman! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today is the day you are 4! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am so blessed to be called your mommy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am so thankful for such a sweet and amazing gift this day four years ago!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy Happy Birthday sweet boy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-9082849210198536921?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/9082849210198536921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=9082849210198536921' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9082849210198536921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9082849210198536921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/12/4-years-old.html' title='4 Years Old'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/STvbYsbubVI/AAAAAAAABNE/lgzXy9KmlL0/s72-c/12_04_08+063.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-873606478120387485</id><published>2008-12-02T13:00:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T15:04:50.451-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Homekeeping'/><title type='text'>It's December</title><content type='html'>All day yesterday I kept telling myself, "it's December already?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be thinking about decorating but instead I am thinking about cleaning. My home has been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;severely&lt;/span&gt; neglected over the past couple of months and I can't picture myself hanging up or displaying one Christmas decoration until some of the dust is removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning while walking on the treadmill, I was grumbling to the Lord about the condition of my home. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;closets&lt;/span&gt; are a mess, the dust is thick, the floors, the refrigerator, the bathrooms, it all needs to be done. And by the way the laundry and suitcases are still on my living room floor. I was talking to Him about all of my attempts over the years to keep my home neat and orderly and how I continually come up short. I have followed plans. I have made some great schedules and created some wonderful charts, but nothing makes the task any easier or less demanding. The only thing I haven't tried is hiring a maid and I know that won't happen. And besides I would have to clean before the maid came, so that would be pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home after my walk and started putting away groceries when somewhere between putting away the box of oatmeal and the apples I heard the Lord's still small voice whisper, "what are you trying to build?" I know, I know is what I thought to myself (I just studied the book of Daniel and I know what happens when we try and build our own agenda) but it still doesn't get my house clean. And again, the nudging as I put away the carrots and milk, "whose kingdom are you trying to build?" It is like a huge sign that I keep ignoring until I am about to hit it again. I think for the past year God has been trying to teach me something. He stops me in my tracks continually and forces me to look at my motives, the blueprint of my heart, the reason for wanting something or doing something and sadly when I am honest with myself, it is about me and how I want to appear to others or what I hope to accomplish, not about Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has given me everything I need. Including the ability to clean my house. And if you have never thought of housecleaning as a spiritual act, just start talking to the Lord about it and I am sure he will reveal some dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Through wisdom a house is built, And by understanding it is established; By knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches. Proverbs 24:3-4 &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-873606478120387485?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/873606478120387485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=873606478120387485' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/873606478120387485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/873606478120387485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-december.html' title='It&apos;s December'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-7058943577206885162</id><published>2008-11-30T16:23:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T22:00:38.260-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>There is nothing like coming home. It doesn't matter how fun the trip was, I always look forward to getting home and sleeping in my own bed. We had hoped the drive coming home would be shorter, but it wasn't. It is still a 14 hour drive to Colorado no matter which way we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what does it mean when you come home and a huge red bow is attached to your garage door, red ribbon wrapped around the front of the house, and a wreath made of red forks is hanging by the door? (&lt;em&gt;I wish I would have taken a picture)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) don't ever leave again because your house is fair game?&lt;br /&gt;b) someone just paid off the loan on your house and is gifting it to you?&lt;br /&gt;c) the forty or so people who beautifully decorated the church last Sunday for Christmas wanted to make sure they shared their talents with us personally?&lt;br /&gt;d)someone is mad at us and couldn't bring themselves to "toilet paper" us so instead decided to "bow" us? &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(this tells me women were involved?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e)someone discovered how much I love the color red and wanted to bless me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any guesses??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-7058943577206885162?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/7058943577206885162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=7058943577206885162' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7058943577206885162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7058943577206885162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-9025482826693358633</id><published>2008-11-27T21:23:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T23:55:33.634-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Day</title><content type='html'>I awoke this morning to some familiar sounds from my childhood.    I could hear my mom in the kitchen.  Cupboard doors were being opened and shut.  The clanging of pots and pans and the sound of running water  echoed through the house as she cleaned and prepared the Thanksgiving Turkey for cooking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always enjoyed getting up before anyone else and putting the turkey in the oven so that by the time everyone else was awake and breakfast was being started, this part of her day was complete. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents home has a huge window that faces Pikes Peak.  This morning the sun was shining right over the top of the mountain and you could see it's snow capped top perfectly.  It was a beautiful site!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day has been quiet and very relaxing.  The boys have spent alot of time outside.  The girls watched a fun movie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The food today was wonderfully familiar and generous.  My uncle and cousin joined us for our simple gathering.  We read allowed Psalm 100 and prayed together.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many changes in every one's life that sat around the table today.  Most are too personal to blog about.  We each have so much to thank the Lord for even in the midst of change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look back over this year, I am thankful to the Lord for all that He is doing to change me.  I don't want to change.  But the Lord in His loving way nudges me along and as I look at the difficulties ahead as a result of change, I am also tempted to glance back at what seemed comfortable and familiar and want to stay there.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting quietly tonight with Coleman sleeping soundly next to me in a dimly lite bedroom.  I am ready for bed. I have written down all that I am thankful for from this past year even the really difficult times.  I don't just want to thank the Lord for the good stuff.  I want to never forget the really hard stuff and how He has carried me through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-9025482826693358633?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/9025482826693358633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=9025482826693358633' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9025482826693358633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9025482826693358633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving-day.html' title='Thanksgiving Day'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-4030877984210843616</id><published>2008-11-26T22:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T23:58:04.203-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>A Thankful Heart</title><content type='html'>It's late. I am sitting in a bedroom in my parents home. Everyone else is asleep. I should be too, but today is my mom's birthday and I think the piece of chocolate cake eaten about an hour ago is keeping me awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents retired and moved to Colorado a year and a half ago. This is the first time I have seen their new home. I am so grateful to be here.&lt;br /&gt;It had been just over a year since I had seen my Mom and Dad. Too long! The distance and the busyness of life had prevented an earlier visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we are all together now and I am so thankful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family has taken many long road trips. Living apart from extended family for the past eight years as allowed for us to spend many hours in the car together driving down the interstate. I have grown to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;absolutely&lt;/span&gt; love road trips. This time was no exception. The only difference was the kids are older and take up much more room in the car. The challenges of keeping everyone comfortable can be cause for some tense moments. But we make it through and everyone tries really hard to work together. Road trips will be on the list of memorable moments in our children's life. (or at least I can hope so)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Road trips provide something else for me though. It is a time to talk. Long hours on the road with no where to go but buckled in your seat allow us to talk through all that is going on in our life. And the rest of us have to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a time to think. Just when everyone is starting to feel a bit irritable, we have thirty minutes of silence. No talking, just thinking. It's my favorite time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a time to reflect. There is no where for the kids to run off to, so we usually have some moments on the road trip where we encourage them to reflect on all that God has done in our lives as a family, and for His grace and His goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But out of fear of sounding like peace and joy ooze from our vehicle as we head down the highway at seventy-five miles an hour, we have plenty of sibling arguing, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;whining&lt;/span&gt;, and cranky people in the car too. It is almost comical at times to watch us go from deep conversations to absolute frustration over the next kid asking, "how much longer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long trip this time. But another road trip has been logged and I am so thankful to be here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-4030877984210843616?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/4030877984210843616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=4030877984210843616' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4030877984210843616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4030877984210843616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/thankful-heart.html' title='A Thankful Heart'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-7746108218889219857</id><published>2008-11-16T22:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T22:43:16.136-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spiritual Growth'/><title type='text'>What are you dreaming of?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is the title of the next chapter in a book I am reading by Nancy Guthrie. And this is the first statement I came to today as I opened the book where I left off....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are your dreams molded by the culture we live in and what this world values and recognizes? Or have your dreams been shaped and reborn as the Holy Spirit remakes you and as the Word of God renews your mind? &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nancy Guthrie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;...after reading it, I closed the book and realized before I go on, I need to ask myself this question and ponder the answer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-7746108218889219857?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/7746108218889219857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=7746108218889219857' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7746108218889219857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7746108218889219857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-are-you-dreaming-of.html' title='What are you dreaming of?'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-1289101621052328872</id><published>2008-11-12T22:37:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T15:58:55.737-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>A look at Fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuvjUHIS0I/AAAAAAAABMA/Zb8ZMfA5GJE/s1600-h/DSC_0033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267997210368822082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuvjUHIS0I/AAAAAAAABMA/Zb8ZMfA5GJE/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This afternoon I put away the light coats since the weather doesn't seem to be promising the temperatures that we so enjoyed a week ago. The leaves have been beautiful this year. Last week on what may have been one of our last warm days of the season, Coleman and I took a little nature walk while waiting for school to get out. We sat under this tree for about a half hour in the afternoon sun. He played with sticks, leaves, and found a few bugs, while I just enjoyed the quiet moments with him. And by the way I love the way the photo above turned out. I was trying to capture the color of these leaves not noticing the barren trees off in the distance and what a beautiful contrast it makes. I couldn't help but ponder the season that we are in and how quickly the seasons change with our kids. It seems when they are little the days can feel long and then one day you look up and ask yourself, "what happen?" The changes are coming so quickly you can't seem to keep up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuxH6-y6VI/AAAAAAAABMI/y9RGe5vNnS0/s1600-h/DSC_0052.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267998938789767506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuxH6-y6VI/AAAAAAAABMI/y9RGe5vNnS0/s400/DSC_0052.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunter is in his third year of soccer and still loves it. He played in two tournaments this fall and we were so thankful for the beautiful weather. One day while walking across the soccer field and looking over at a college game being played he said, "when I grow up I want to be a professional soccer player and a pastor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu2mWciWRI/AAAAAAAABMQ/G-EEAqArUWE/s1600-h/DSC_0324.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268004959116482834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu2mWciWRI/AAAAAAAABMQ/G-EEAqArUWE/s400/DSC_0324.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuxH6-y6VI/AAAAAAAABMI/y9RGe5vNnS0/s1600-h/DSC_0052.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kelsey played 7th grade volleyball and loved it. She had a great season! We loved going to her games and even enjoyed traveling to the away games. Her only complaint was that the season was too short. She is loving Junior High and we are loving watching her grow and change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu6xpXPzSI/AAAAAAAABMY/bxHrJjLk-nQ/s1600-h/DSC_0064.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268009551219641634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu6xpXPzSI/AAAAAAAABMY/bxHrJjLk-nQ/s400/DSC_0064.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Theo had an extremely fun year in football. He made some new friends and played really well. He is #54 in this photo. The best part was that he spent the entire season with his dad as one of the coaches. I loved hearing them come through the door at night talking about the game and what they had learned. It was a sweet time. Theo is my kid who has changed the most over this past year. Everything about him is changing. It is also fun to watch. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(note to self - I need to write a post about this)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu7swaUKlI/AAAAAAAABMg/qfTmxE1BLus/s1600-h/DSC_0128.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268010566723840594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu7swaUKlI/AAAAAAAABMg/qfTmxE1BLus/s400/DSC_0128.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Lauren has been busy with football cheerleading and musical. Thankfully she has her license and now her own car. It is hard for me to believe we are in the final years of high school with her. I feel at times it was yesterday we started Kindergarten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu81FO-uBI/AAAAAAAABMo/qCzMqzpqWXM/s1600-h/Les+Mes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268011809264023570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRu81FO-uBI/AAAAAAAABMo/qCzMqzpqWXM/s400/Les+Mes.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A lady asked me today what I enjoyed most about being able to be at home with my kids, and I told her, "getting the front row seat in my child's life."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-1289101621052328872?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/1289101621052328872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=1289101621052328872' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1289101621052328872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1289101621052328872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/look-at-fall.html' title='A look at Fall'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRuvjUHIS0I/AAAAAAAABMA/Zb8ZMfA5GJE/s72-c/DSC_0033.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-5371784322711646370</id><published>2008-11-12T09:09:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T14:42:33.721-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible Study'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ministry'/><title type='text'>It's not about me</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I had one of those very sobering days when the reality of life as others have and are experiencing it through their grief, their hurt, their pain, their illness, their lack, and even their sin was heavy on my heart. It is so easy to go about life and lose sight of what others are carrying around in their own heart and only be consumed with myself and what I need to get done or where I need to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started with Beth Moore and so many of the things she said as we walked through Daniel chapter 11 together. I wrote this real big in my notes, "&lt;strong&gt;If we miss the sacrificial life, we miss our calling." (Romans 12:1) &lt;/strong&gt;The theme that has ran through this entire study has been, "it's not about us." Our post modern Christian culture wants to understand people quickly, provide a quick solution and keep everything organized and comfortable. Jesus never said it would be easy, but instead He gave us many examples of how much it would cost. Our culture screams as it must have in Babylon to take care of yourself, think of yourself, self, self, self. Let's be honest we are obsessed with our self. And therefore if we don't like it, or how it makes us feel we look for something else. And as Beth Moore so beautifully stated, "spiritual gifts take time to grow and mature and surprise it's not about you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my day continued on, it was a email, a phone call, a conversation of what others are facing and how completely selfish I feel at times for worrying about my little pinkie problems of the day when others are experiencing a mountain of pain, worry and grief. From a very broken and lost young woman, to a sweet momma sitting by her daughter's side, to the suffering of those watching loved ones fight for their life, to &lt;a href="http://beefy86.blogspot.com/2008/11/andy.html"&gt;this precious mother&lt;/a&gt; whose grief I don't pretend to understand. I asked her if I could send &lt;a href="http://beefy86.blogspot.com/2008/11/andy.html"&gt;a link&lt;/a&gt; her way and she said, "it would be completely fine." So, today would you all take a few minutes and read &lt;a href="http://beefy86.blogspot.com/2008/11/andy.html"&gt;Amie's post&lt;/a&gt;. But don't just read it, leave her a note of encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that like the woman at Bethany my life and yours would be poured out, completely empty of ourselves and a living sacrifice for Him. It's not about me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-5371784322711646370?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/5371784322711646370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=5371784322711646370' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/5371784322711646370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/5371784322711646370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-not-about-me.html' title='It&apos;s not about me'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-4829334335675526445</id><published>2008-11-06T13:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T13:21:35.263-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthdays'/><title type='text'>Twelve</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRNDQfPIUmI/AAAAAAAABL4/m8jWRov0-pY/s1600-h/DSC_0343.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265626339868168802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRNDQfPIUmI/AAAAAAAABL4/m8jWRov0-pY/s400/DSC_0343.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; He is totally twelve!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Happy Birthday Theo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-4829334335675526445?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/4829334335675526445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=4829334335675526445' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4829334335675526445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4829334335675526445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/twelve.html' title='Twelve'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SRNDQfPIUmI/AAAAAAAABL4/m8jWRov0-pY/s72-c/DSC_0343.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-5076203644981950809</id><published>2008-11-05T06:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T08:51:39.682-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devotions'/><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I found great comfort in God's Word during Bible Study after our discussion on Daniel chapter nine and the teaching from Daniel chapter ten. I sat quietly in my seat and thought to myself that no matter what happens today, God is on the throne. He is the Ancient of Days. He knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words of Daniel 2:20-22 that he spoke after God had revealed to him the secret of Nebuchadnezzar's dream are what is on my heart today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Daniel answered and said: " Blessed be the name of God forever and ever, For wisdom and might are His. And He changes the times and the seasons; He removes kings and raises up kings; He gives wisdom to the wise And knowledge to those who have understanding. He reveals deep and secret things; He knows what is in the darkness, And light dwells with Him. Daniel 2:20-22&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My husband has taught from the book of Revelation over the past four weeks. And the message that it brings is&lt;em&gt; HOPE.&lt;/em&gt;  Although there are still many things that I don't fully grasp,  I have HOPE.  We know how it all ends so therefore we don't live as if we have no hope, but one who understands that He is "&lt;em&gt;the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last. Revelation 22:13&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-5076203644981950809?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/5076203644981950809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=5076203644981950809' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/5076203644981950809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/5076203644981950809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-7619950975590006777</id><published>2008-11-03T21:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T23:46:25.970-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>My little Artist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQ_hkILHwrI/AAAAAAAABLw/srd-JyAgAhs/s1600-h/IMG_7775.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264674500205068978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQ_hkILHwrI/AAAAAAAABLw/srd-JyAgAhs/s400/IMG_7775.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQ_gr_Xc9vI/AAAAAAAABLo/qAlPA-_xJDo/s1600-h/IMG_7775.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-7619950975590006777?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/7619950975590006777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=7619950975590006777' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7619950975590006777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7619950975590006777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/11/art.html' title='My little Artist'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQ_hkILHwrI/AAAAAAAABLw/srd-JyAgAhs/s72-c/IMG_7775.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-4410649659982978618</id><published>2008-10-31T09:35:00.022-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T10:50:00.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumpkins..Pumpkins..Pumpkins</title><content type='html'>It all started a few weeks ago when Hunter (8) informed us that he has never carved a pumpkin. I pulled up the archives in my mind of pumpkin carving in our family knowing that it was not in my favorites and recalled that he was probably "three" the last time we had cut open one of those big orange beasts. I usually enjoy the collecting, displaying, and photographing of them, but not carving so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsatZfn_AI/AAAAAAAABJ4/AzK2U-CtGDA/s1600-h/DSC_0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263329956752522242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsatZfn_AI/AAAAAAAABJ4/AzK2U-CtGDA/s200/DSC_0002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided that since this was so important to him, I would make it important to me. First, I made sure everyone was going to be home at the same time. This is getting tricky these days and the reality that it will only continue is hitting home hard. But that is a post for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsdWzr_ktI/AAAAAAAABKA/orQVSDvHn5Q/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263332867181613778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsdWzr_ktI/AAAAAAAABKA/orQVSDvHn5Q/s200/DSC_0012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, we covered the table with cardboard and&lt;br /&gt;my husband started the party with cutting off&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsd8JeOSBI/AAAAAAAABKI/wrWvj8djNGg/s1600-h/DSC_0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263333508684597266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsd8JeOSBI/AAAAAAAABKI/wrWvj8djNGg/s200/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the tops. Let the fun begin.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQse5SViS2I/AAAAAAAABKQ/4gGcyU3rCBQ/s1600-h/DSC_0001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263334559036099426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQse5SViS2I/AAAAAAAABKQ/4gGcyU3rCBQ/s200/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hunter was determined to save every seed for either planting or roasting. The slimy mess was everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsfuRoRreI/AAAAAAAABKY/G6zrMLTHDnM/s1600-h/DSC_0027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263335469379333602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsfuRoRreI/AAAAAAAABKY/G6zrMLTHDnM/s200/DSC_0027.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coleman wasn't sure if he was ready to dig in. Just removing the top was enough for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQshBFRJKjI/AAAAAAAABKg/4plexw4PxV8/s1600-h/DSC_0051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263336891990223410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQshBFRJKjI/AAAAAAAABKg/4plexw4PxV8/s200/DSC_0051.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQshrfXTyEI/AAAAAAAABKo/sVHfVH0vN0Y/s1600-h/DSC_0050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263337620549912642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQshrfXTyEI/AAAAAAAABKo/sVHfVH0vN0Y/s200/DSC_0050.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They each determined what their pumpkin's face would look like. I was on serious knife duty. Praying that no one would lose a finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hunter was involved in every detail.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsjBLdds-I/AAAAAAAABKw/y76cXh2RJNY/s1600-h/DSC_0037.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263339092675769314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsjBLdds-I/AAAAAAAABKw/y76cXh2RJNY/s200/DSC_0037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsj2OLd2PI/AAAAAAAABK4/HAn0s1njkYA/s1600-h/DSC_0067.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263340003938654450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsj2OLd2PI/AAAAAAAABK4/HAn0s1njkYA/s200/DSC_0067.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsknARvW0I/AAAAAAAABLA/VTm-AlYOs90/s1600-h/DSC_0071.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263340842020461378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsknARvW0I/AAAAAAAABLA/VTm-AlYOs90/s200/DSC_0071.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot./"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263341182529596978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsk60xcbjI/AAAAAAAABLI/LtrVveu2S4M/s200/DSC_0073.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It was important that his pumpkin face had two new teeth to match the two that he is getting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsms0Vby0I/AAAAAAAABLQ/-05YhGVrTkQ/s1600-h/DSC_0078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263343140917201730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsms0Vby0I/AAAAAAAABLQ/-05YhGVrTkQ/s200/DSC_0078.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet the "Pumpkins"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsnGiRvt5I/AAAAAAAABLY/GuPxE7d0VuI/s1600-h/DSC_0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263343582746490770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsnGiRvt5I/AAAAAAAABLY/GuPxE7d0VuI/s200/DSC_0002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-4410649659982978618?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/4410649659982978618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=4410649659982978618' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4410649659982978618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4410649659982978618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/10/pumpkinspumpkinspumpkins.html' title='Pumpkins..Pumpkins..Pumpkins'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SQsatZfn_AI/AAAAAAAABJ4/AzK2U-CtGDA/s72-c/DSC_0002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-9136819408779984250</id><published>2008-10-22T08:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T09:09:29.129-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devotions'/><title type='text'>He Knows!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I know my own sheep"  John 10:14&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;God knows me.  He knows it all.  He is the Ancient of Days. He knows my public persona and my private pettiness.  He knows what lights the fire of my soul and what dampens the flame within me.  He knows how I struggle, even now, between self-pity and self sacrifice.  Even if I want to hide my inner thoughts and motives from him, I can't.  He knows my deepest regrets and my secret longings.  He knows!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The thought that "&lt;em&gt;He knows"&lt;/em&gt; has given me so much comfort over the last few weeks.  He knows the answers to the questions that swirl around in my mind, even if I don't.  Oh, how painful and at the same time pleasurable it is to be fully known!  Such a relief that I do not have to put on pretenses, yet such a rub to have all my weaknesses exposed.  And then I remember that he is the Good Shepherd.  His full knowing of me doesn't cause him to recoil; it reminds him of why he came - to lay down his life for me.  Knowing I've done nothing to deserve it, and knowing that at times I will stray from his flock, he has chosen to lay down his life for me and he invites me to know him in an in intimate way.  Even though he knows the real me, he wants me to follow him now and for eternity.  He wants to be with me!  He knows me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(adapted from a devotion in  Nancy Guthrie's book on Hope)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-9136819408779984250?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/9136819408779984250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=9136819408779984250' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9136819408779984250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/9136819408779984250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/10/he-knows.html' title='He Knows!'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-6578944799780445507</id><published>2008-10-17T14:44:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T15:10:11.657-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>What am I doing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Trying to recover from a very busy Fall season with the kids which is slowly winding down. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enjoying the light rain today and the cooler weather which allowed me to turn on our fireplace.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Caring for a sick girl and secretly enjoying the time alone with her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Trying to go through kids clothes and purge purge purge while...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listening to a message "Hoping In God" given by a sweet friend.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Looking at the title of a book I recently picked up sitting on my table which is also titled "Hope" and realizing this is often how the Lord speaks to me. He puts several things on the same subject right in front of me so that I don't miss it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Praying for several who are ill and hurting and needing to feel His Hope.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Understanding more today that caring for a home and family is a gift even when it is overwhelming and everyone is pulling at you all at the same time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Needing to finish this post and take some notes of this message before returning to the clothes piles and before the clock strikes..."it's time to go pick up kids from school."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thankful that He is the &lt;em&gt;Ancient of Days&lt;/em&gt; and so thankful for the message this week in the book of Daniel.  He knows and always has!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-6578944799780445507?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/6578944799780445507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=6578944799780445507' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/6578944799780445507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/6578944799780445507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-am-i-doing.html' title='What am I doing...'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-6515069704523810231</id><published>2008-10-09T08:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T16:27:43.043-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>So I don't forget</title><content type='html'>Eight year old Hunter's Awana teacher called me Wednesday night after church to inform me that Hunter indeed knew the books of the bible. He recited them to her as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ezra..Nehemiah..Esther..Job..Psalms..and........Problems&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we laughed so hard...it hurt. it was great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-6515069704523810231?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/6515069704523810231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=6515069704523810231' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/6515069704523810231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/6515069704523810231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-i-dont-forget.html' title='So I don&apos;t forget'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-7086074677346635190</id><published>2008-10-08T16:07:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T21:07:47.991-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthdays'/><title type='text'>SEVENTEEN!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1nI5qpmEI/AAAAAAAABAA/ZKIpr97p82M/s1600-h/IMG_7532+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254969742827558978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1nI5qpmEI/AAAAAAAABAA/ZKIpr97p82M/s320/IMG_7532+(2).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1nB0siHFI/AAAAAAAAA_4/0KgCLLzMOvQ/s1600-h/IMG_7535+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254969621234195538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1nB0siHFI/AAAAAAAAA_4/0KgCLLzMOvQ/s320/IMG_7535+(2).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1m3gyH1uI/AAAAAAAAA_w/rM0ZR-2nw4g/s1600-h/IMG_7541+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254969444090238690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1m3gyH1uI/AAAAAAAAA_w/rM0ZR-2nw4g/s320/IMG_7541+(2).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Lauren,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Birthday! It has been a beautiful day today. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and it is a glorious day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had nothing big planned for the day, but instead just some family time. Your sister and brothers all made you cards and decorated your room after school to surprise you when you came home. As usual you were absolutely delighted and enjoyed every ounce of their effort. I peeped in on you this morning as you ran out to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cheerleading&lt;/span&gt; practice in the wee hours of the morning, received the warmth of your smile as you darted off to school, and caught the joy in your eyes as you ate your dinner and headed off to youth group. Something in me wanted to grab you and make you stop. But I know I can't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seventeen years ago you made me a mom for the very first time and it seems each year goes by faster and faster. I am so thankful to the Lord for giving me such a gift in you. I just wanted to be a mommy, but He far exceeded my expectations. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your compassion for others truly blesses me. I am humbled by your mercy and desire to see those who are hurting healed and those in need provided for. The only thing you asked for your birthday was to take a trip to Chicago to visit and pray for a young man from your school who is laying in a hospital bed. I asked if you were serious, and you said, "yes". I often say to myself, "when I grow up, I want to be just like her." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love these photos of you because it was a very special day (date) you and I shared. I will treasure the memory, the moments and the conversation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;October 8, 1991 I sat in the hospital room at the end of the hallway in awe of the baby girl I held in my arms. Today I stand in awe of the young lady that God has placed before me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-7086074677346635190?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/7086074677346635190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=7086074677346635190' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7086074677346635190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/7086074677346635190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/10/seventeen.html' title='SEVENTEEN!'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SO1nI5qpmEI/AAAAAAAABAA/ZKIpr97p82M/s72-c/IMG_7532+(2).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-2754085552900661267</id><published>2008-09-29T16:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T23:05:00.277-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Tom</title><content type='html'>Tom is my brother. I actually have three brothers, all younger than me and no sisters. Growing up they teased me as the bossy older sister always trying to keep them in line. Tom is the middle one &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;and shhhh don't tell anyone but today he is my favorite&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He is very tall, six foot three (I think), warm, kind, gentle, sensitive and has a great sense of humor. He has been the best uncle EVER to my kids. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One of my most cherished memories is watching his six foot three frame dance with my oldest daughter when she was a toddler to her favorite Barney song. He could do all the moves and the two of them would put on quite a show singing and dancing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So, you can only imagine how excited I was when his first child was born last November. I couldn't wait to see him with his own little girl. In January, I had to make a quick trip to California and seeing this new addition was a priority. When I arrived at their house my brother and his beautiful wife were pretending to be busy at the kitchen sink as they watched me walk up the driveway. But what they were waiting for was my reaction to this...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SL25V8cKwPI/AAAAAAAAA9M/KFJ7ma1nuZA/s1600-h/IMG_5105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241549327981789426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SL25V8cKwPI/AAAAAAAAA9M/KFJ7ma1nuZA/s320/IMG_5105.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I opened the front door, she was sitting there, waiting, all by herself. It made me cry. I am so proud of him, the father and husband he is, and all that God is doing in his life. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I miss you Tom!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-2754085552900661267?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/2754085552900661267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=2754085552900661267' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/2754085552900661267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/2754085552900661267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/09/tom.html' title='Tom'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SL25V8cKwPI/AAAAAAAAA9M/KFJ7ma1nuZA/s72-c/IMG_5105.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-1461357120005649904</id><published>2008-09-25T06:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T06:44:33.184-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Right In Their Own Backyard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNt4wB915tI/AAAAAAAAA_E/CcJkRDz7hgE/s1600-h/DSC_0094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249922557187319506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNt4wB915tI/AAAAAAAAA_E/CcJkRDz7hgE/s400/DSC_0094.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-1461357120005649904?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/1461357120005649904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=1461357120005649904' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1461357120005649904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/1461357120005649904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/09/right-in-their-own-backyard.html' title='Right In Their Own Backyard'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNt4wB915tI/AAAAAAAAA_E/CcJkRDz7hgE/s72-c/DSC_0094.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34135579.post-4196953191297339187</id><published>2008-09-24T07:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T07:19:32.866-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women&apos;s Ministry'/><title type='text'>A very special vase</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNm_KeinQ2I/AAAAAAAAA-s/i_cfG07oOwE/s1600-h/DSC_0136.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249437027394863970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNm_KeinQ2I/AAAAAAAAA-s/i_cfG07oOwE/s320/DSC_0136.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I received this beautiful bouquet of flowers from a woman who attends our Women's Bible Study on Tuesday mornings. She blesses me every so often with this type of gift and I am so very grateful for her kindness. I know that she has cut the flowers from her own garden and then I imagine all of the work and care that she has done and yet I am the one who is enjoying the beauty of her work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When she handed me the flowers, she apologized for the "vase/container" she had put them in. I quickly replied with, "it doesn't matter what they come in, It's not the vase I am looking at, but the flowers."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I looked at these vibrant colors all afternoon adorning my table, I couldn't help but relate this to our previous weeks lesson in the &lt;a href="http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/09/bible-study.html"&gt;book of Daniel&lt;/a&gt;. Does the vase make the flowers more beautiful? It depends on what you want to look at. It depends on what your goal is for these flowers. It depends on what truly matters most to you in relationship to having these flowers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flowers bring me such joy and the hands that picked these and placed them in this plastic container are even more wonderful. I will leave them just as they are. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34135579-4196953191297339187?l=cometothetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/feeds/4196953191297339187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34135579&amp;postID=4196953191297339187' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4196953191297339187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34135579/posts/default/4196953191297339187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cometothetable.blogspot.com/2008/09/very-special-vase.html' title='A very special vase'/><author><name>Chris @ Come to the Table</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07878659618561017060</uri><email>cometothetable@msn.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04573814872082300896'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_44btbHRNQHg/SNm_KeinQ2I/AAAAAAAAA-s/i_cfG07oOwE/s72-c/DSC_0136.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry></feed>