tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65016252245184654132024-03-14T02:52:53.710-07:00From the Heart of Dixie.....Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.comBlogger228125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-64709310294384722692012-08-13T21:00:00.003-07:002012-08-13T21:00:48.182-07:00Moving DayJust wanted my faithful followers to know that I will be moving my blog to <a href="http://www.phillipsandphillipsmusic.com/">www.phillipsandphillipsmusic.com</a>. I hope you will stop by and drop me a note. I love hearing from you. Thank you for following my blog. <br />
<br />DixieDixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-90138802766042733452012-08-02T18:11:00.009-07:002012-08-02T18:11:51.925-07:00Dirty Feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRzrzuZEstVWv27n_zBdbw5OWxbTYH-biz5adhZya8g2eAgORIN2gf4gv9-dZ019V5R24Vzig2DosDh23GNi_3fTE3OgtqZLftQv-IsVfMaJPYC06tYk3DhiHJfKp0Z52aIkDqUFKySk/s1600/Jesus-washing-feet-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRzrzuZEstVWv27n_zBdbw5OWxbTYH-biz5adhZya8g2eAgORIN2gf4gv9-dZ019V5R24Vzig2DosDh23GNi_3fTE3OgtqZLftQv-IsVfMaJPYC06tYk3DhiHJfKp0Z52aIkDqUFKySk/s320/Jesus-washing-feet-12.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
<br />
In this fast paced world, jam packed with busy schedules and looming
deadlines, I often find my restless soul desiring to sit quietly at my Lord’s
feet. In the Bible we find many people at His feet. Some folks had desperate
needs, but there were others who just wanted to worship Him.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Let’s take a quick look at some of the ones the Bible mentions who could be
found at the feet of Jesus. There was:<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>The afflicted father—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">Then one of the synagogue
leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. Mark
5:22 NIV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span class="text"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></span><span class="text">A sorrowing mother—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">In fact, as soon as she heard
about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an impure spirit came
and fell at his feet. Mark 7:25 NIV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>A sinful woman—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">A woman in that town who lived a
sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came
there with an alabaster jar of perfume.</span> <span class="text">As she stood
behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then
she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. Luke
7:37-38 NIV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>A healed demoniac—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">….and the people went out to see
what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the
demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind; and
they were afraid. Luke 8:35 NIV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>A seeker of Truth—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">She had a sister called Mary, who
sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. Luke 10:39 NIV</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>A bereaved sister—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">When Mary reached the place where
Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been
here, my brother would not have died.” John 11:32 NIV</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Unfortunate sufferers—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.05pt;">
<span class="text">Great crowds
came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many
others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them. Matthew 15:30 NIV</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 39.05pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">ü<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A reverent
worshipper— <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 2in;">
<span class="text">When I saw him, I fell at his
feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: </span><span class="woj">“Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. </span>Revelation
1:17 NIV<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
All of these stories are so refreshing, but there’s another story mentioned
in God’s Word that exemplifies the humility of Christ. I’m sure you remember
when Jesus washed His disciples’ feet. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was
just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to
leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the
world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the
devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus.
Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had
come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off
his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured
water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the
towel that was wrapped around him. John 13:1-5 NIV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
There are many days I fall short and my feet get dusty, but every time I sit
at Jesus’ feet, I find Him washing my dirty feet. His sweet voice pleads,
“Don’t nurse that grudge. Give it to Me. Oh, please don’t get too attached to
the temporal that you lose sight of the eternal.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I believe Jesus still washes His disciples’ feet today, but we first—we must
sit at His feet. <o:p></o:p><br />Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-12629192638970050712012-07-24T19:36:00.001-07:002012-07-24T19:36:09.838-07:00Floating Hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ujEwfXUeeYiQddq72fDRH3IQnXAkJqzGbmeirbALTgn8Gwj5dsQSXDzcNsio0Px5kLoxJl4dR9isM2bwD8IWEvQnNIF9snJszysockJpj5re0xzB1bdXX3JfBRCuxUR8prUlOvXrRzE/s1600/Floating+Hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ujEwfXUeeYiQddq72fDRH3IQnXAkJqzGbmeirbALTgn8Gwj5dsQSXDzcNsio0Px5kLoxJl4dR9isM2bwD8IWEvQnNIF9snJszysockJpj5re0xzB1bdXX3JfBRCuxUR8prUlOvXrRzE/s1600/Floating+Hearts.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Has your heart ever been so heavy
you thought it would never beat again? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This week as I read the story of
Prophet Elisha and the floating ax head, the Holy Spirit breathed fresh life
into a familiar story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As one man
was cutting down a tree, the head of his ax fell into the water. He yelled,
"Oh, my master! I borrowed that ax!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Elisha
asked, "Where did it fall?" The man showed him the place. Then Elisha
cut down a stick and threw it into the water, and it made the iron head float.
Elisha said, "Pick up the ax head." Then the man reached out and took
it. 2 Kings 6:5-7 NCV<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
In Elisha’s day an ax was a necessary tool for survival. Can you imagine the
horror the man felt when the borrowed ax head plunged into the water? He knew
it was probably gone forever, but Elisha had a plan and in a matter of moments
the iron ax head was floating on top of the water. I’m sure relief flooded over
the man’s heart as he snatched it up. The lost had been found!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jesus cares about the everyday ax head situations in our lives. He has
provided godly leaders who love and support us when we are drowning in
suffocating circumstances. Our shepherds lead us to the foot of the Cross,
where the presence of the Lord has lifting power. The Holy Spirit comforts and
strengthens us so we don’t have to live “under” the difficult circumstances of
life.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Burdened hearts are heavier than iron ax heads, but when one tiny sliver of
Calvary's cross is inserted in a bleeding heart, it can rise with our Savior’s
resurrection life and beat again.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Be encouraged today. The God of Elisha is your God, too. <o:p></o:p><br />Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-45370415656822519802012-07-18T06:47:00.001-07:002012-07-18T06:47:25.193-07:00Little People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
We’ve
all experienced it. We’re reading a familiar Bible story, and suddenly the words
leap off the page and scream, “This is for you! Yes, you!”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
I
recently had this experience with the beautiful story of Naaman and the little
maid found in 2 Kings 5.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Naaman
was a powerful Assyrian leader with a deadly flaw. He had leprosy, a disease
that did not discriminate. Even though he was a man in a position of political
power and influence, he was susceptible to a common man’s illness.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
A
little servant girl of Naaman’s wife had the courage to share about Elisha’s
power to heal the sick.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
So
Naaman took a road trip to meet Elisha.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Elisha
gave specific instructions for Naaman’s healing. “Go dip in the Jordan River
seven times.”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Naaman’s
response showed the condition of his heart. He felt he was too important to dip
in the muddy Jordan.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Fortunately,
Naaman had a wise servant. His counsel was able to put the situation into the
proper perspective. “Sir, if the prophet had told you to do some great feat,
you would have done it. Now why can't you just wash yourself, as he said, and be
cured?”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
The
servant’s words made sense to Naaman. He obeyed Elisha’s command and was
completely healed.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
<strong>Life
application for us:</strong><strong> </strong></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Many
of us feel God has called us to serve, but when lowly service is presented, we
respond like Naaman. “I refuse to dip into the muddy Jordan. This is not what I
expected ministry to look like.”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
But
then the Holy Spirit, like Naaman’s faithful servant, responds, “If the Lord had
told you to do some great feat, you would have done it. Can you do this little
deed for Me?”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
I
meet people who insist, “God has called me to write.” But when the writing
assignments are not huge book contracts, they refuse to write.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
How
can we solve this problem? I believe it’s an easy fix.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
<strong>For
those who feel the Lord is calling them into
ministry:</strong><strong> </strong></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Begin
serving where you are. Don’t let what appears to be lowly service stop you from
being a blessing. Remember that even a cup of water given in our Savior’s name
will receive a reward one day.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
<strong> </strong><strong>For
those who feel called to write for the Lord:</strong></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Start
writing where you are. God has miraculous ways of getting your writing to the
exact places He wants it to be.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
The
longer I live I am more convinced that God uses “little” people to do “big”
things for God. The “biggest” people in God’s kingdom are those who stay “small”
in their own eyes.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Will
you be like the little maid and let the Lord use you today?</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-45257546619863448242012-07-11T05:59:00.002-07:002012-07-12T05:36:59.914-07:00Operation Cinderella<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Two
years ago our son John married Natasha Stamman. Our beautiful daughter-in-law
has been a wonderful addition to our family and a loving wife for John.
Natasha’s father and his wife founded Impact Ministries International, a
ministry for orphans and the poor of the world.</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
Last
week I went on a missions trip to Honduras with John and Natasha. During the day
we mainly camped out at an orphanage in Comayagua and in the evening we attended
special church services, supporting local pastors and their ministries. On
Sunday, we distributed food and clothing to the poorest of the poor in Honduras.
Hundreds of needy souls stood in line for a bar of soap, used clothing, and a
bag of rice, corn, and beans.</div>
<br />
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Selina's old shoes.....</div>
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<a href="http://fromtheheartofdixie.wordpress.com/?attachment_id=273" rel="attachment wp-att-273" style="color: #2585b2; text-decoration: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" class="size-medium wp-image-273" src="http://fromtheheartofdixie.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/selina-with-her-new-flip-flops.jpg?w=168&h=300" style="height: auto; margin-bottom: 12px; max-width: 100%;" title="Selina with her new flip-flops" /></a>
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Selina and Dixie</div>
</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
During
the distribution a little girl named Selina came up to me holding a shabby shoe
in her hand. She said something in Spanish and I knew she was asking for a new
pair of shoes. We had just distributed the last pair. My eyes filled with tears
when I told her there were no more shoes. She was devastated, but slipped her
foot back into her pitiful shoe. In that moment I realized her foot was about
the same size as mine. I kicked off my white flip-flops and gave them to her.
She smiled and hugged me tightly. We said our goodbyes and I never expected to
see her again because she wasn’t part of the orphanage and didn’t live in
Comayagua.</div>
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The
next night we drove to church. I looked over the large crowd and whispered a
prayer for Selina. As we hurried to find a seat, I felt a little tap on my arm.
I turned and to see who was wanting my attention. “Selina!”</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
She
pointed at her feet.</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
“You’re
wearing the flip-flops. They look so nice!” I threw my arms around her neck.</div>
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Selina
linked her arm in mine throughout the praise and worship. Our hearts were
cemented together despite our language barriers.</div>
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That
night when we returned to our motel room, Natasha, John, and I couldn’t stop
talking about how a simple pair of flip-flops could bring so much joy to a
little girl.</div>
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The
next evening Natasha and I attended a special women’s meeting. After the service
a woman came up to me with a huge smile plastered on her face. She kissed me on
the cheek and said something in Spanish.</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
I
shrugged and shook my head. “No, hablo
<em>español</em><strong>.”</strong><strong></strong></div>
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<a href="http://fromtheheartofdixie.wordpress.com/?attachment_id=274" rel="attachment wp-att-274" style="color: #2585b2; text-decoration: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" class="size-medium wp-image-274 " src="http://fromtheheartofdixie.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/ladies-night-0271.jpg?w=168&h=300" style="height: auto; margin-bottom: 12px; max-width: 100%;" /></a>
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Selina's Mother at Ladies Night</div>
</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
She
pointed to her feet. I squealed when I recognized the flip-flops. I motioned for
our interpreter. “What is she saying?”</div>
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Angelica,
our interpreter, replied, “She said that she is Selina’s mother and Selina let
her borrow the new flip-flops so she could attend the special meeting
tonight.”</div>
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As
I returned to my motel room, I couldn’t help but think how it really is the
little things in life that can make huge differences in the lives of the poor.
May we all find some way to bless those in need today. I also learned that
Cinderella isn’t the only one whose life can be changed by a pair of shoes.</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
If
you stop your ears to the cries of the poor, your cries will go unheard,
unanswered. Proverbs 21:13 MSG</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-86983797599085412522012-06-27T21:27:00.001-07:002012-06-27T21:27:26.843-07:00'68 Tornado<br />
Many times people ask, “How do you know what to write about?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My response is always the same. “I mostly write about my personal
experiences.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You cannot “make up” your life’s story. God can use your story to encourage others. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I want to share my own personal story of an event that made our little town
in northern Iowa make national news on May 15, 1968. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I was in fifth grade at McKinley Elementary School. Because of some family issues,
I was living with my paternal grandparents on their farm. My two older brothers
Bob and Ken were living at our parents' home in Charles City.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
May 15, 1968 was a huge day for the fifth and sixth graders of Charles City.
The annual grade school track meet, which started at noon with a picnic, followed
by some friendly track competition, was held that day. After the students
gobbled down their sack lunch, the track meet began on the College Grounds.
Five grade schools, Lincoln, Jefferson, Central, McKinley and Washington
Elementary were represented. Little did we realize in a few short hours three
of those schools would be demolished. (Central, McKinley and Washington were
destroyed. Central and McKinley would never reopen.)<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My friend Nancy and I were overjoyed that McKinley had won the track meet. She
invited me over to her house for a few hours after the track meet. When my
grandmother came to pick me up, she noticed I had lost one of my brand new
socks. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I rummaged through my bag. "I must have lost it when I changed into my
track clothes!"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Grandma was very frugal and thought we better retrace my steps and see if we
couldn't find the mate to my "widowed" sock. We backtracked from my
friend's house to the College Grounds, but didn't have any luck in finding the
sock<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Jnr4W4eElh_pwSeeaIyU01FzZrzc6ydrbfvakTfKaAq5bNCbNPeryz4CfVMpCXPGi6JO-dMfhoLpg65biPd5q5Imhz545KMjapJAKxYxMRLRTwDv6cPCbTu7amM38Go-pP-jD32_m7g/s1600/250px-CharlesCity_tornado.jpg"><span style="color: blue; mso-no-proof: yes; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On the way home, when we got to the fairgrounds’ corner, (above is actual
picture of a view of the '68 tornado from the fairgrounds’ corner) I noticed
Grandma was very quiet. I thought she was upset with me for losing my sock, but
then I noticed she was preoccupied with looking out the car window at the dark
sky. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I tried to lighten the mood and jabbered on and on about the track meet and
the visit at my friend's house. Grandma stayed focused and picked up speed in
an attempt to hurry home. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
When we pulled in the driveway, Grandma spoke sternly, "I'm only going
to say this once. You go get your dog, head straight to the basement, and sit
under the big table in the corner. Don't come up until I call you. Do you
understand?"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I nodded my head, hopped out of the car, and whistled for my dog. Ginger
came running and jumped in my arms. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Get in that basement now!" Grandma ordered.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I galloped down the steps, clutching Ginger tightly. We hid under the table
just like Grandma had instructed. I remember crying and praying out loud. "Please
keep us all safe. Don't let anything happen to Grandma and Grandpa!"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, Grandma called down the stairs. "The storm has
passed. Come on up and help me get ready for supper."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
When we sat down to eat, my stomach was still in knots. I remember it was
difficult to eat and then we were startled when the doorbell rang. A neighbor
man bolted into the house before Grandma or Grandpa had a chance to answer the
door. His voice was frantic, "Charles City has been hit by a tornado! The
whole town has been wiped out!" <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My heart beat wildly in my chest. "What about Mom and Dad and Bobby and
Kenny?"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Grandma looked up at Grandpa and said, "We need to head to town
now!"<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My grandmother was an immaculate housekeeper. She did something that I'd never
seen her do. She left all the supper dishes and food on the table. “We’ll clean
the supper dishes when we get home. Dixie, go grab some of your favorite books.
We might be waiting in the car for a while." <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Grandpa was met with a friendly policeman when he stopped his car near the
city limits. "Nobody is allowed inside the city limits unless you live
there."<o:p></o:p><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
Grandpa pointed at me sitting in the back and explained the situation.
"Her parents and brothers live in town."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The policeman looked at me. "I'm sorry. But there are live wires down
on the ground. People have been killed by the storm. I can't allow you to go
any further." <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
When Grandpa turned his car around, found a gravel road, and turned off the
ignition. "I’ve got to see if Bobby and Kenny are all right. They might
need me.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I peered through the crack of the car door and watched Grandpa as he laced
up his boots.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"John, be careful. You heard what they said about those live
wires." Grandma's voice trembled. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let's pray."
Grandpa closed his eyes. "Lord, guide my steps. Help me find those
boys."<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Grandma and I sat in silence watching Grandpa as he trudged toward town.
Finally, Grandma said, "Dixie, pick out a book and we'll read it
together." <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Several hours later, Grandpa returned. "Bobby and Kenny are safe. They
hid under a bridge and saw the tornado hit. Our family is safe, but much of the
town was gone.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jL-QSe6tUk1KJiiB-BFE1KHW1eCKS4iu2dEMIwdvt9gNbldLkdt633ndI2RRVCbv1dp7DdNLffFdWnSyRath-tpGz4d4bsaH2Jc8zZ_btUa4qcLEy5GIRQWJGmsCsHJBFK-D1_W9Rxk/s1600/McKinley+School+Tornado.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jL-QSe6tUk1KJiiB-BFE1KHW1eCKS4iu2dEMIwdvt9gNbldLkdt633ndI2RRVCbv1dp7DdNLffFdWnSyRath-tpGz4d4bsaH2Jc8zZ_btUa4qcLEy5GIRQWJGmsCsHJBFK-D1_W9Rxk/s320/McKinley+School+Tornado.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
Later I learned that my elementary school (see building in the right of
above photos) was hit and school was dismissed for the rest of the school year.
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A violent F5 tornado tore a 1/2 mile wide path through the town from south
to north, killing 13 people, injuring 450 others, and caused $30 million
damage. In town, 372 homes and 58 businesses were destroyed, 188 homes and 90
businesses sustained major damage, and 356 homes and 46 businesses sustained
minor damage. Eight churches, 3 schools were damaged or destroyed, the police
station was heavily damaged, and 1250 vehicles were destroyed.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I've never forgotten the day a tornado hit our little town and changed our
lives forever.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<br /></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-79679468792476022402012-06-22T05:38:00.001-07:002012-06-22T05:38:16.324-07:00SOAR!<br />
<div class="paragraph" style="display: block;">
<em>Then Pharaoh gave this order to
all his people:<br />“Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the
Nile.”<br />Exodus 1:22 NIV<br /><span></span></em><br /><span></span>I love the
biblical account of Moses when he was an infant. Satan conjured up a plan to
kill him, but God was watching over him. Jehovah gave Moses’ mother a creative
plan to save her baby’s life. She wove a basket out of bulrushes, tucked her
baby boy inside, placed him in the Nile River, and assigned his big sister to
keep an eye on him.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><em>When she saw that he
was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no
longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and
pitch.<br />Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds<br />along
the bank of the Nile. His sister stood at a distance<br />to see what would happen
to him.<br />Exodus 2:2-4 NIV<br /><span></span></em><br /><span></span>Even though
Moses was a “basket case,” he grew into a mighty man of God and was handpicked
by Jehovah to deliver the Israelites from the land of
bondage.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>My husband and I have been in fulltime
ministry for more than 30 years. We have seen firsthand the enemy sabotage
ministries in their infancy. We’ve stood in the gap with those God has called
and rejoiced with them as they fulfill their divine destiny, but our hearts have
been broken when others have allowed the enemy to snuff out a new ministry God
has called them to birth for the Kingdom.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>I
would like to speak directly to those of you who sense the Lord is calling you
to “birth” a writing or songwriting ministry. Here is an acrostic with some
helpful hints to help your new ministry
S.O.A.R.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><strong>S</strong>-Seek God for wisdom
as you birth this new
ministry.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><strong>O</strong>-Offer your gifts
and talents to the Lord with a humble
heart.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><strong>A</strong>-Admit when you need
help and don’t be afraid to seek counsel from godly
mentors.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><strong>R</strong>-Refuse to allow the
enemy to destroy what God is birthing in your life and ministry at this
time.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span><em>The thief comes only to steal and
kill and destroy;<br />I have come that they may have life, and have it to the
full.<br />John 10:10 NIV<br /><span></span></em><br /><span></span>Never be shocked
by the devil’s tactics. His goal is to destroy your ministry in its infancy.
Remember the story of Moses. May God use your pen to lead souls out of bondage.
Soar for Jesus today!</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-44533303636660195022012-06-12T16:39:00.001-07:002012-06-12T16:39:30.946-07:00Something Beautiful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7aI4Y3prIXV1hqvkNVPosIaMNE9v5ROaf4xKvmmLGK2FPpXOpxfhSvHugOM8NR9YaXruVPwpaqpClYjILDE7_7jraEuXC5joTl6LQG54bok9bKinQiCG0UwgoSbUSX8gYwwy-uFzpnA/s1600/Gaither+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7aI4Y3prIXV1hqvkNVPosIaMNE9v5ROaf4xKvmmLGK2FPpXOpxfhSvHugOM8NR9YaXruVPwpaqpClYjILDE7_7jraEuXC5joTl6LQG54bok9bKinQiCG0UwgoSbUSX8gYwwy-uFzpnA/s320/Gaither+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 13pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Lilly; font-size: 13pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">I was not raised
in a Christian home, but had godly grandmothers, who poured God’s truths into
my life. They were polar opposites doctrinally, but their love for me forced
them to leave their spiritual "guns" at the door. <br />
<br />
Life at home was difficult. My parents' unhappy marriage permeated every aspect
of our home, which left me with some deep insecurities and deep hurts.<br />
<br />
After I graduated from high school in 1975, my father's cousin and his wife
took an interest in my life. They quickly picked up on my love for southern
gospel music and purchased a ticket for me to attend a Gaither Trio concert in
Oklahoma City. I was thrilled to get to see Bill, Gloria, and Danny Gaither
perform live.<br />
<br />
Henry and Hazel Slaughter started the evening off. Toes were tapping and hands
were clapping to their lively tunes. After several songs, The Gaither Trio
finally appeared. I don't remember many of the songs they sang that night
except one - "Something Beautiful." The lyrics were so simple yet so
profound.<br />
<br />
<i>Something beautiful. Something good.<br />
All my confusion He understood.<br />
All I had to offer Him was brokeness and strife,<br />
But He made something beautiful of my life.<br />
</i><br />
<br />
The Holy Spirit ministered to me that night in a way I had never experienced
before. For the first time in my life, I sensed that God had a plan and purpose
for my life. He wasn't going to waste one bit of my pain, but He would make
"Something Beautiful" of my life. <br />
<br />
That experience was almost 40 years ago. My husband and I have been married for
35 years and we have been honored to serve the congregation of the Gospel
Lighthouse Church & Academy for more than 30 years. I am the mother of four
married children and four adorable grandbabies. God fulfilled His promise. He
made "Something Beautiful" of my life. <br />
<br />
This past weekend I was able to meet one of my heroes - Gloria Gaither at her
Songwriting Intensive in Alexandria, Indiana. It was a rich, full circle moment
for me. <br />
<br />
I wonder how many other lives have been changed forever when they heard the
anointed lyrics of "Something Beautiful?"<br />
<br />
As a writer, there have been times I've allowed the enemy of my soul to convince
me that what I have written doesn't matter. Creative souls are usually
ultra-sensitive and can become easily discouraged. We must be wise to Satan's
tactics and not allow him to dishearten us. We never know when our words bring
hope to the hopeless. <br />
<br />
Keep writing for Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-78245874603547197342012-06-02T20:57:00.000-07:002012-06-02T20:57:00.708-07:00Rock on a Fence Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqWl6bGQQjSR94WxbyVETA3TugH_Df6zw9QLlQBaZHDq32a0jU99xc9hyphenhyphensoBF8lt0wImEDxvr0jLFxwuDgcXU-RDTzuoIiiQlop7vmHbt7meqdLJsAhvlY8TwpfgkZ5WrKRV2wAXsrcY/s1600/Rock+on+a+Fence+Post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqWl6bGQQjSR94WxbyVETA3TugH_Df6zw9QLlQBaZHDq32a0jU99xc9hyphenhyphensoBF8lt0wImEDxvr0jLFxwuDgcXU-RDTzuoIiiQlop7vmHbt7meqdLJsAhvlY8TwpfgkZ5WrKRV2wAXsrcY/s320/Rock+on+a+Fence+Post.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Paul and I will celebrate our 35<sup>th</sup> wedding anniversary this year. We can hardly believe it. I often tease, “How can we be married 35 years when we aren’t even 30 years old?”<br />
<br />
Paul is a country preacher. His sermons and life are filled with humility and simplicity. Each day as he leads our family and congregation with a servant’s heart, you can’t help but notice his authenticity. I guess that’s why the Gospel Lighthouse Church in Floyd, Iowa, has kept him as pastor for 31 years.<br />
<br />
When Paul and I take little drives through Iowa’s country roads, we’ve often spied a rock on a fence post. Without fail, Paul replies, “You know that rock didn’t get there by itself.”<br />
<br />
It’s so true. Many of the blessings and successes the Lord brings our way have come through others. The Lord brings people into our lives, establishing precious eternal friendships that the gates of hell cannot prevail against. As Christians, we should rejoice every day at the faithfulness of our Lord. He knows our phone number and where we live. He is in the business of making divine connections for His children.<br />
<br />
In my own life as a writer, I reflect often on my own “rock on a fence post” experiences. Working with a precious team of writers at Christian Editing Services has been a tremendous blessing in my life. The writing assignments I have been given through C.E.S. have led me to amazing people and doors of opportunity I would not otherwise have had.<br />
<br />
The next time you spot a rock on a fence post, take time to thank the Lord for all the divine connections He is making for you. Trust Him to work behind the scenes with your writing. He will give your stories wings and send them to wherever they are supposed to go. Just be sure to remember when you arrive at your divine destination to give God the glory and appreciate the precious friends He sent to help you along the way, because you didn't get there by yourself.Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-6716689793600932682012-06-02T19:40:00.000-07:002012-06-02T19:40:22.484-07:00"The Cat Came Back" is here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebjIZrfZ00lnwrA9hdwPKOmdwm8TEV0y72BAk1902RrBFpdU6bqRJuIS_V4QQsAL4E70mtdKg18H8n-fYsgbQtX8lJ9Uh1uAKt6qbyOrAgBmW1f1FYFVX0UPIn6IdhPqEJe-mHnTHE-A/s1600/TCCB+8x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebjIZrfZ00lnwrA9hdwPKOmdwm8TEV0y72BAk1902RrBFpdU6bqRJuIS_V4QQsAL4E70mtdKg18H8n-fYsgbQtX8lJ9Uh1uAKt6qbyOrAgBmW1f1FYFVX0UPIn6IdhPqEJe-mHnTHE-A/s320/TCCB+8x150.jpg" width="310" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We are proud to announce....<br />
<br />
Drum roll please.....<br />
<br />
Tada.....<br />
<br />
Guardian Angel Publishing has released "The Cat Came Back!"Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-10680132713343156632012-05-23T05:44:00.001-07:002012-05-23T05:44:31.419-07:00Send Me<blockquote>
And then I heard the voice of the Master: "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" I spoke up, "I'll go. Send me!" (Isaiah 6:8 MSG)</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
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For Christian writers, there usually is a point in time when they sensed God calling them to write. Sometimes answering the call isn’t always easy. There are disappointments and obstacles to overcome.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
When the prophet Isaiah was young, he made excuses and tried to ignore the call, but an encounter with Jehovah caused him to change his mind. The mighty prophet served four kings and penned one the most beautiful Old Testament books, full of hope and proclaiming the coming of the Messiah.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Have you ever thought of what might have happened if Isaiah had neglected the call? If the Scriptures that have comforted God’s people down through the ages had not been written? It’s a sobering thought, isn’t it?</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
None of us claim to be “Isaiah,” or even close to the anointed prophet, but God still has some writing assignments for those He has called. Some days we must dust off our keyboards in faith because we don’t feel like we have anything to say, but our heavenly Father sees things differently. His ways are higher than our ways. Our Father believes we have a story to tell. That is why He has called us to write.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Let’s raise our pens in faith and believe God will help us write stories that bring glory and honor to Him.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
And when we hear the voice of the Master, "Whom shall I send? Who will write for Me?" . . . We can answer, "I'll go. Send me!"</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-10266250410619510382012-03-06T16:40:00.001-08:002012-03-06T16:40:31.691-08:00Writing for Little Ones<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Some of my new friends have been asking me how many
children’s books I have available and where they can purchase a copy. I thought
I would dedicate today’s blog to answering their questions and share a little
blurb about my children’s books. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here is a list of my published stories.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORy-fhDLgasKeh4nE9zk_Rc6OIkZGIYltY0F3qpLvj6eFa9g5fb8XeMHShDPg3XacBf-aAUrBEhyNtOuaXf7JwMiKaFf26wsUoWfDfi2OHiMNyjr0mswRo6w_C9MoXmJoecZvr30vCuQ/s1600/Angel+Eyes+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORy-fhDLgasKeh4nE9zk_Rc6OIkZGIYltY0F3qpLvj6eFa9g5fb8XeMHShDPg3XacBf-aAUrBEhyNtOuaXf7JwMiKaFf26wsUoWfDfi2OHiMNyjr0mswRo6w_C9MoXmJoecZvr30vCuQ/s320/Angel+Eyes+Cover.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Angel
Eyes<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Angel
Eyes</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> is a perfect story to read to the little ones in your life during
Easter. Children’s hearts will be challenged and changed as they read about</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> two cherubs, Kennedy and Tristan. The</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">se two
charming cherubs </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">help children
understand what the angels might have felt when Jesus came to Earth and was
crucified.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3wU0W2dZ8mpSeSd3Xz43cqfL6umSlRwzPsUDJV21POlFnsgA7-o-Xzbk7ngHC6yPMVZ_IWV7O5rLXUaUR_Jc7IoT1dph-U43B8hwVn76jwYuCHl-cqSrg_mAvF-mLTHFfmCT8NMSEeY/s1600/stubby%2527s+cove2x100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3wU0W2dZ8mpSeSd3Xz43cqfL6umSlRwzPsUDJV21POlFnsgA7-o-Xzbk7ngHC6yPMVZ_IWV7O5rLXUaUR_Jc7IoT1dph-U43B8hwVn76jwYuCHl-cqSrg_mAvF-mLTHFfmCT8NMSEeY/s1600/stubby%2527s+cove2x100.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stubby’s Destiny<o:p></o:p></i></b><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Stubby’s Destiny</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> is an inspirational
story about a defeated donkey, Stubby, who feels he was born wrong. He was just
about to give up when divine destiny tapped him on the shoulder. He was chosen
to carry the King of Kings upon his back. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stubby’s
Destiny</i> will bring hope to hurting children who feel their situation is
hopeless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJWB732Y0gPW3ZmamYMAmVxd8Hms8lhYIHrMojvCz_Zd_L0Hvo11ujrdgCHe23jKchO2hGosDENIkhhl5OMT7FhoJ7BIjDH3MiVt3Eg1exsB7mArOESpmBHeXpWiB3emz1Pe5cKmHGZE/s1600/ONJ+cover+3+version+copy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJWB732Y0gPW3ZmamYMAmVxd8Hms8lhYIHrMojvCz_Zd_L0Hvo11ujrdgCHe23jKchO2hGosDENIkhhl5OMT7FhoJ7BIjDH3MiVt3Eg1exsB7mArOESpmBHeXpWiB3emz1Pe5cKmHGZE/s320/ONJ+cover+3+version+copy+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One Noble Journey<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Two cultures collide in the tiny village of Westbury. The orphan from the
lowlands and the Count's daughter from the highlands and a baby raccoon will
entertain the hearts of all and is guaranteed to shape small souls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbZ9FKFhvlJ2-BTQiWdX56P_1-5j9vcOTGLBhxa939bcueLXB_IZreTRse4exQRHNtWoEnxhrjT2X0_EWhhhtCGXFbhSgiIfo2KderueZfxgbgem1tWDUaf9CNuHUHFdEFKoItCUt9t4/s1600/Baby+Jesus+is+Missing+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbZ9FKFhvlJ2-BTQiWdX56P_1-5j9vcOTGLBhxa939bcueLXB_IZreTRse4exQRHNtWoEnxhrjT2X0_EWhhhtCGXFbhSgiIfo2KderueZfxgbgem1tWDUaf9CNuHUHFdEFKoItCUt9t4/s1600/Baby+Jesus+is+Missing+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Baby Jesus is Missing<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<strong><span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The annual Christmas decorating contest left no room for Jesus until
little Josiah Carr teaches his mommy and daddy the true spirit of Christmas is
finding Jesus. This captivating story is guaranteed to warm the coldest heart
and become a Christmas favorite for families everywhere</span></strong><b><span style="color: black;">.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXuk6MVV9E9bpXfWQ63OJ8JWb9I8YHiOZkgNMIucEZumB4_koX6BHfleFdXymxHf8c6H4TWQ_QrAF0_ffaqC92oQuY6TfCK3_w7A-2NCqe0ann2xEu5gioNraQ0UF5DhL-jc8WWd_Alk/s1600/Cinderfella+and+the+Furry+Godmother+Cov..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXuk6MVV9E9bpXfWQ63OJ8JWb9I8YHiOZkgNMIucEZumB4_koX6BHfleFdXymxHf8c6H4TWQ_QrAF0_ffaqC92oQuY6TfCK3_w7A-2NCqe0ann2xEu5gioNraQ0UF5DhL-jc8WWd_Alk/s320/Cinderfella+and+the+Furry+Godmother+Cov..jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cinderfella and the Furry Godmother<o:p></o:p></i></b><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Staci adores her new puppy but she
starts singing her own rendition of the birthday blues when she keeps
forgetting to water her pet. Smiles will be transplanted on the faces of
children and adults when they read this hilarious story together. Finally, a
book that makes learning the art of responsible behavior fun!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTohjfIF4e9rTIRckIyoHALBJ-gktaKBwY8cQlMxfn4Ty9PFToKinYvDYihL6wj1lpFebqvECBPDuTIYNsNS2byEmLp3ewTcTohsg0Tdwx7SuSYeBq-vEg0L0BqeRKp-QRMYXXjXzDVsg/s1600/stilts-the-stork-cvr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTohjfIF4e9rTIRckIyoHALBJ-gktaKBwY8cQlMxfn4Ty9PFToKinYvDYihL6wj1lpFebqvECBPDuTIYNsNS2byEmLp3ewTcTohsg0Tdwx7SuSYeBq-vEg0L0BqeRKp-QRMYXXjXzDVsg/s320/stilts-the-stork-cvr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stilts the Stork<o:p></o:p></i></b><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Plenty of chuckles will be delivered in this rhymed topsy-turvy adventure
about a ditzy stork who adopts an orphaned “egg” she discovers on a golf
course. Can a zany stork, who adopts an orphaned “egg” that she discovers on a
golf course, deliver plenty of chuckles? Yes! This rhymed, topsy-turvy adventure
is guaranteed to tickle your child’s funny bone. Anyone who can follow the
antics of Stilts without a chortle or two is an odd bird indeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0G1AI_9sTcv4a5hTcYTYxzyLUHIIT8n1SvqakJywc8EwIc3gdGrStH7RnqRwOEGc6k74tGEYjXxjmz5ramv8R1izFarW4fMQXpRE3M8wS0RpPNkBxico_vWlgJElwFgrSdApUqm9KMdE/s1600/Apron+Strings+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0G1AI_9sTcv4a5hTcYTYxzyLUHIIT8n1SvqakJywc8EwIc3gdGrStH7RnqRwOEGc6k74tGEYjXxjmz5ramv8R1izFarW4fMQXpRE3M8wS0RpPNkBxico_vWlgJElwFgrSdApUqm9KMdE/s1600/Apron+Strings+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Apron Strings<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Grandma Eleanor and Lexi are
attached at the heart. For Lexi’s seventh birthday, Grandma Eleanor sews a
beautiful apron for her. When her grandmother gets sick, Lexi is comforted by
the heavenly clues she discovers in the treasured apron. This inspiration
sensation is guaranteed to help mend broken hearts and shape small souls. Apron
pattern included, too!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">These books are available at </span><a href="http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: blue;">www.guardianangelpublishing.com</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">. In the near future, Guardian Angel Publishing will be releasing my
newest books: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whistling Dixie, The Cat
Came Back</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Livia the Super Hero.<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf6v8WO-oM8Fu7xXlzhmmogRsJr4cB4P6yuLh00XMoEGD8bb3JThPZ_aKhycs598j3_IhyYwCggChzMf2xPN9CRoYJO2zeFrHcHJcE_TpGRZGxgb3H6xV2q26Ip4r08i-8xnjwDGVWg/s1600/Camille's+Journey+Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf6v8WO-oM8Fu7xXlzhmmogRsJr4cB4P6yuLh00XMoEGD8bb3JThPZ_aKhycs598j3_IhyYwCggChzMf2xPN9CRoYJO2zeFrHcHJcE_TpGRZGxgb3H6xV2q26Ip4r08i-8xnjwDGVWg/s1600/Camille's+Journey+Book+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I am very excited to announce that Guardian
Angel Publishing has invited my sister-in-law and me to start a new line of
Christian musicals for churches, homeschoolers, and Christian schools. We were
thrilled when they released our very first Christmas musical—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Camille’s Journey</i>. This delightful drama
was written by Lucy Robbins, Leslie Troyer, Sharon Phillips, and me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Camille’s Journey </span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">is
available at </span><a href="http://www.guardianangelpublishing/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: blue;">www.guardianangelpublishing</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here
is a little blurb about it. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Camille’s Journey<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Spend your Christmas with Camille,
an orphaned camel, as she leads three zany wise men and their bossy camels to
the newborn King in Bethlehem. Children of all ages will love this fun,
easy-to-learn Christmas musical. Finally a drama guaranteed to warm the coldest
heart.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0FjFDd_evUGQBnX5j1sL39UJJbFiKHPBMv5ubjktrbKREM-ij5KAWcYzMyS5jBDB6eYLMjnyjQXGy-TUCufnXjOvnF8uwjSB1VmplQxOBgVpwfbZRayTny0uxVJsWpSaCWXfbrxnZIE/s1600/Empty+tomb+FA+copy+revise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0FjFDd_evUGQBnX5j1sL39UJJbFiKHPBMv5ubjktrbKREM-ij5KAWcYzMyS5jBDB6eYLMjnyjQXGy-TUCufnXjOvnF8uwjSB1VmplQxOBgVpwfbZRayTny0uxVJsWpSaCWXfbrxnZIE/s320/Empty+tomb+FA+copy+revise.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Once upon an Empty Tomb<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Sharon and I are pleased to announce
that we also have a children’s Easter musical <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Once upon an Empty Tomb, </i>which will be available in the near future
from Guardian Angel Publishing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I would like to thank each one of
you for your loving support of my writing ministry. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-20863089542424918782012-02-15T19:56:00.000-08:002012-02-15T19:56:06.820-08:00Keep Writing for the King<blockquote>
Now Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were delicate, but Rachel was beautiful of form and appearance. Now Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, “I will serve you seven years for Rachel your younger daughter.”<br />
<br />
And Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to another man. Stay with me.” So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed only a few days to him because of the love he had for her.<br />Genesis 29:16-20 NKJV</blockquote>
<div align="justify">
Have you ever felt like the unwanted on or the unattractive one? Leah did. By birth, she was Rachel’s older sister, and by her father’s trickery and deceit, she was Jacob’s first wife. Can you imagine what she must have felt like when Jacob looked at her and realized she wasn’t Rachel, the one he was deeply in love with and had worked seven years for? I’m sure the rejection she felt stung to the bone.</div>
<div align="justify">
God loved Leah and had a plan and destiny for her life. She bore Jacob six sons and one daughter. Levi was one of the boys born to Leah and Jacob. The priestly tribe came from this lineage. Judah was another son born to Leah and Jacob. King David came from the lineage of Judah—and so did Jesus Christ.</div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
Your Father has a plan for you, too. You might feel others can write better and are having more success in their writing endeavors than you. Stay faithful. Keep writing. Don’t compare yourself with someone else. Be authentic. Be transparent. Be the one God created you to be. God has a destiny for you and your writing. You never know where He will send your stories. Keep writing for the King.</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-57535762286928692102011-12-30T21:31:00.001-08:002011-12-30T21:31:07.598-08:00The Journals<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif";">January
opened her journal and began to jot down her New Year’s resolutions: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Attend church faithfully!</i><br />
<br />
June opened her journal and wrote down the happenings of the week: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Family’s here from up north. I was unable to
attend church this month. Went boating with family. God understands. He knows
that family is very important!<br />
</i><br />
December opened her journal and scribbled down her thoughts for the past year: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t believe it! I went to church today
and someone came up and asked me if I would fill out a visitor’s card! I know
I’ve missed a few Sundays, but who do they think they are?<br />
</i><br />
January opened her journal and jotted down her dreams for the coming year: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord, I’m willing to be used however You see
fit. Put me where You need me, Master!<br />
</i><br />
June opened her journal and wrote down what happened that week: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pastor Paul asked me if I would help in the
nursery at church. Now, that takes a lot of gall! Doesn’t he know that I am way
too educated to be wiping noses and bottoms? I think the mothers of all those
possessed urchins should take care of their own little monsters. That’s what’s
wrong with mothers today. They expect others to do their dirty work. They don’t
want to take care of their own. What’s the world coming to?<br />
</i><br />
December opened her journal and scribbled down her thoughts for the past year: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am so sick and tired of Pastor Paul asking
for volunteers at the church. I guess I need to type up a resume of jobs I will
not do—I refuse to work in the nursery, teach Sunday school, clean the church,
or visit the sick. I don’t want to catch anything. Why, can’t Pastor Paul see
how valuable I am? What I would love to do is be in charge of a seminar. Oh
yes, I could be up front and teach others about “servanthood.” Our church needs
more servants.<br />
</i><br />
January opened up her journal and began to jot down her goals for the New Year:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Give above and beyond my tithe this year!<br />
</i><br />
June opened up her journal and penciled in the budget for the week: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The economy has plummeted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything costs so much—Libby’s braces,
Rachel’s college, health insurance! God gave me this great job to meet my
needs. I know He’ll understand if I can’t give anything this week.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br />
December opened up her journal and penned these words: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The church treasurer gave us our yearly financial receipts for tax
purposes. This can’t be right. According to this report I only gave God my
pocket change. This sure doesn’t help me get much of a tax break!<br />
</i><br />
January opened up her journal and jotted down her expectations for the next few
months: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Forgive those who have offended
me!<br />
</i><br />
June opened up her journal and began jotting down her thoughts: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who on earth does Lillie Williams think she
is? Just because she inherited all those millions, she thinks she can just boss
everybody around. Who died and made her queen? <br />
</i><br />
December opened her journal groaning and moaning as she wrote: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I cooked Lillie Williams’ goose today. I’ve
informed all the ladies at Bible study about her ulterior motives in giving all
that money to the church. She thinks I don’t know what she is up to. She’ll
probably want the church named after her. I can see it now: Lillie’s Christian
Center! It’s a good thing God has made me so discerning so I can warn the
pastor about her. He is so gullible, always believing the best in people.<br />
<br />
</i>**<br />
<br />
January slipped inside the sanctuary. She sat on the back pew between December
and June. <br />
<br />
“You guys, I read your journals.” January gasped, “I couldn’t believe my eyes!”<br />
<br />
“We read yours, too, January.” June replied as December nodded, “Let’s face it
we’re all a mess!”<br />
<br />
“Pastor Paul said that’s why God sent us a “Mess-iah” to help us get out of our
mess. We need some major help.” December grinned.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Let’s
get it right this time.” January pleaded.<br />
<br />
December agreed. “Yeah, I’m tired of coming up short at the end of the year.”<br />
<br />
June nodded. “Me too. I’m tired of spiritual summer slumps.”<br />
<br />
“And I’m tired of end of the year burn out.” December cried.<br />
<br />
January put her arms around her two companions and chuckled, “Time for a group
hug.” <br />
<br />
They all chimed together at the top of their voices in unison, “We must stay
close to Jesus and not allow the devil to add pollution to our New</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Year's
resolutions!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-4864255618971984872011-12-14T18:47:00.000-08:002011-12-14T18:47:07.365-08:00The Bag that Faith BuiltWe live in an exciting era. Technology makes it possible for our story to go around the world in the click of a mouse.<br />
<br />
I always encourage my writing friends to blog. The more we write, the better writers we will become, and blogging is an excellent writing exercise. Not only will we hone our writing skills, but God may use our words to inspire others.<br />
<br />
Last week, our oldest daughter, Rachel, shared about her ectopic pregnancy on her blog. She and her husband were devastated when they lost their first child. Rachel doesn’t claim to be a “writer.” She’s just a young wife and mother sharing on her blog how God has been faithful to her. Her words brought comfort to many other women who read her blog and are facing their own difficulties. Rachel’s blog is a perfect example of how God can use our story to encourage someone.<br />
I felt I was to share Rachel’s story with you today. I hope it will ignite the writing fire in you. So without further adieu, I would like to introduce you to our firstborn, Rachel Michelle Phillips Nolt.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Bag that Faith Built</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
The year was 2008. I was at <a href="http://thenoltfamily.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-he-carried-weight-of-world-up-on-his.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #7348aa;">this dark place</span></a>. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t rainbows. In fact, it was hard and yucky. There was pain like I had never experienced before. And I was crawling through it. Hardly holding on, struggling for each breath.</div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
And then God sent my sister, Beka. We went out to eat, and while we were there she told me we were going to Wal-Mart, right across the street from where we were eating. Beka isn’t a Wal-Mart person so I really didn’t know what we were doing. We walked inside and she told me her plan. “We’re heading to the baby department and picking out a diaper bag. We’re going to fill it with baby clothes for your future baby.”<br />
<br />
I raised my eyebrows and resisted her instructions. “I don’t know, Beka.”<br />
<br />
She spoke in soothing tones. “Rachel, this is going to be your “faith bag.” Every time you see it, you’ll be reminded of hope for the future.”<br />
<br />
Sounds fun, right? I’m not going to lie. It was hard. I was in excruciating emotional pain. And the pain didn’t ease as I went through the motions and picked out a bag. But then I chose two blue newborn outfits, and I felt my heart heal a little bit. A seed was planted, but when I got home I hid the bag. I couldn’t put the outfits in a cute dresser drawer and get excited for the growing baby inside my womb. Mine was gone . . . taken from me before I knew if my baby was a boy or girl. Gone before I ever held my little one in my arms. I was at a loss.<br />
<br />
Months went by and I didn’t look at the bag. I forgot about it and walked through depression I had never experienced before. Months passed and I hadn’t conceived. Everyone else was having a baby, but my womb was empty, painfully empty.<br />
<br />
Finally, nine long months later, I was pregnant. I dug out the bag from the bottom of my closet. When I opened it, I wept. In my faith bag were the two winter newborn outfits. And here I was, pregnant with a little one who would need newborn winter outfits.<br />
<br />
Easton Paul was born and fit perfectly in his little “faith” outfit. Every time he wore the outfit, I was reminded how God turned my sorrow into joy. Not only was my baby boy growing, but my faith was growing as well.<br />
<br />
Seventeen months after Easton’s birth came Lincoln Hunter. Joy filled my heart when I stuffed our ten pound newborn baby boy in the “faith” outfit.<br />
<br />
In the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about that little outfit and how it will be a keepsake and reminder of God’s faithfulness. God used my “faith” bag to build faith in me. As I look back, I realize the first time I picked out the outfit a healing process began. I didn’t realize it completely because I was in so much pain. But slowly, ever so slowly, that little seed of faith was growing. But sometimes faith has a way of staying hidden and quiet. It shows itself at times and hides when you think it’s completely lost.<br />
<br />
With Easton Paul, my faith was growing. I still had fears and sorrow, but my faith was stronger. <br />
<br />
Then when I saw Lincoln wear the little outfit, something in my heart screamed, “I’m free!”<br />
<br />
Will trials come? Yep. Do I want them to? Nope. They are not fun. But I know my Redeemer lives.<br />And He works when we don’t think He is working. He’s planting tiny seeds of faith in our lives. We can trust Him fully because He is wholly true.<br />
<br />
So if you are facing sorrow today, go out and buy yourself a bag and fill it full of faith.<br />Years later, your heart will sing! Great is His faithfulness!<br />
<br />
The babies in the faith outfit . . .<br />
<div class="mceTemp" style="text-align: center;">
<dl class="wp-caption alignleft">
<dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a href="http://fromtheheartofdixie.wordpress.com/2011/12/14/the-bag-that-faith-built/dixie_lincoln_hunter-3/" rel="attachment wp-att-118"><img alt="" class="size-thumbnail wp-image-118" height="99" src="http://fromtheheartofdixie.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/dixie_lincoln_hunter2.jpg?w=150&h=99" title="Lincoln Hunter" width="150" /></a></dt>
<dd class="wp-caption-dd">Lincoln Hunter</dd></dl>
</div>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_115" style="width: 160px;">
<a href="http://fromtheheartofdixie.wordpress.com/2011/12/14/the-bag-that-faith-built/dixie_easton_paul_nolt/" rel="attachment wp-att-115"><img alt="" class="size-thumbnail wp-image-115" height="112" src="http://fromtheheartofdixie.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/dixie_easton_paul_nolt.jpg?w=150&h=112" title="Easton Paul" width="150" /></a><div class="wp-caption-text">
Easton Paul</div>
</div>
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</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-36265818542705781932011-12-08T22:08:00.001-08:002011-12-08T22:08:22.730-08:00Write On<div align="justify">
I will never forget a little poem I learned many years ago.</div>
Two natures lie within my breast.<br />One is foul and one is blessed.<br />One I love and one I hate.<br />The one I feed will dominate.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="justify">
At the first reading of this thought-provoking poem, we could think of many fleshly desires we might feed on that would take us for a walk down the darker side of life, but I want to visit with those of you who feel called to write in small and big ways, but insecurity and fear of failure have kept you from wielding your pen for Jesus.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Satan will make a punching bag out of anyone who will entertain his lies. Here are a few of his tormenting thoughts that can hinder you from writing for the Lord.</div>
<i>Who do you think you are? You can’t write. You have no education.</i><br />
<i><br />
Nobody wants to hear what you have to say.<br />
<br />
Stop dreaming. God will never allow your dreams to come true.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="justify">
If we “feed” these negative thoughts, they will dominate and we will never write for the Lord. </div>
I would like to take the time to dispel some of Satan’s myths.<br />
<br />
<div align="justify">
<i>Who do you think you are? You can’t write. You have no education.</i></div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
”I am a child of the living God.” The Bible doesn’t say we have to be proficient in writing to share what the Lord has done for us. Most of the disciples were uneducated and unlearned men, but Jesus chose them and used them to turn the world upside down.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
<i>Nobody wants to hear what you have to say.</i></div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Satan is the one who doesn’t want to hear what you have to share. He doesn’t want to hear how the Lord has touched your life. He is the one who wants to give you a fatal case of “lockjaw.” Jesus wants you to “go and tell”what He has done for you. So others can come to know Him too.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
<i>Stop dreaming. God will never allow your dreams to come true.</i></div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
It’s true that sometimes our dreams can be full of selfish ambition. God has His ways of giving us a reality check when that happens, but there are other times when, like Joseph, God births a dream inside of us. He has adivine plan and purpose for those dreams to come true. Don’t be afraid to dream big for Jesus.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
There are numerous ways we can write for the Lord. We don’t have to write a novel or text book. Let’s look at some of the ways God could use us.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Are you a Deborah with a gift of wisdom for counseling? Share your wisdom in a blog, short story, or letter to a friend.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Maybe God has raised you up like Daniel and He wants to have you take a firm stand and write letters to the editor of your local newspaper or politicians. Let God use your words so right can win over might!</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Are you like Mary and Martha with a gift of organization or hospitality? Share your recipes and creative ideas with others. Simple tips can help make life better for others.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
Are you a David with songs welling up in your heart? Keep a journal of those songs. Share them at a nursing home or with your church. Your song can minister to a hurting soul.</div>
<br />
<div align="justify">
May we never forget that God gave a “little” Jesus to a hurting world. Let’s give a “little” Jesus to someone today. Your story can make life sweeter for someone in a bitter trial. In Jesus’ name we write on!</div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-49082497526734668682011-11-30T04:47:00.001-08:002011-11-30T04:48:35.778-08:00Landmarks<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I
am directionally challenged. I openly admit it. Take me to a new part of the
country and I struggle to figure out north from south and east from west. I’ve
learned to limp along with my “disability,” but I’ve also discovered if someone
gives me a landmark I can usually find my way anywhere.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="background-color: #fffefa; border-width: 0px; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Did
you know we have spiritual landmarks too? Defining moments in our lives that
help us find our way through the darkest places of life.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In
2008, our family faced a crisis. My husband was dying. He needed a kidney
transplant to live. Fear terrorized me. The “what ifs” plagued me until I found
some “landmarks.” Many times it was the Word of God. Other times, the Holy
Spirit spoke into the depths of my soul. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I
would like to share one of my spiritual “landmarks” with you. I wrote this piece
in the midst of the storm. I pray it helps someone groping in the night find
their way.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <strong style="border-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Mary
Was the First One to Carry the Gospel</strong></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“If
we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” 2
Timothy 2:13 NIV</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My
husband has been battling chronic kidney failure for the past twenty-five years.
It’s a silent killer and doesn’t have many symptoms until the final stages. This
year the disease has progressed to a critical point, and in order to keep him
alive, he will need to go on dialysis or have a kidney transplant in the very
near future. Many unknowns loom on the horizon.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We
have labored together for the Kingdom for 30 years. We met at East Texas Bible
College in 1976, fell in love, and consecrated our marriage to the service of
the Lord. We have served our present congregation for 26 years. It has been an
amazing journey—carrying the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We haven’t regretted a
single mile.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Today
we had our first visit with a dialysis nurse. “When the doctor sends you to me,
it means he is expecting you to be on dialysis in the next twelve months.” The
news was overwhelming. Fear gripped us. Once again all the “what ifs” swarmed
our thoughts like bees to honey. The nurse was so compassionate and attempted to
ease our anxieties by cramming our heads with as much information as she could.
The distraction seemed to work, as she filled our laps with pamphlets, charts,
and lab results to take home and study.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As
we drove home, we tried to keep emotionally afloat by naming all the blessings
in our lives. It worked for a few minutes, but then my husband’s cell phone
rang. While he chatted, I peered out the window of our van. Scalding tears stung
my eyes. I cried out to the Lord in the depths of my soul and tried not to let
my husband know the anguish I was in. “He’s only 54 and he’s been so faithful,
Lord. He’s such a humble servant of Yours.” I quietly wept and continued to
pray, “We’ve done all we know to do. We’ve prayed for a healing, anointed him
with oil, and called for the elders of the church just like Your Word teaches.
Lord, where are you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly,
a ray of hope pierced through the fog in my soul. Spirit ministers to spirit. I
could see so clearly over two thousand years ago, an unknown peasant girl. The
Holy Spirit whispered, “Mary was the first one to carry the Gospel.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Thoughts
of a simple carpenter named Joseph swirled in my head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
Holy Spirit continued to minister to me. “I was faithful to this couple, who
carried out my will, and I will be faithful to you too.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At
that moment Heaven changed earth. I felt God breathe hope into my hopeless soul.
We carry the Gospel. The same God who watched over Mary and Joseph would watch
over us.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I
felt ashamed for doubting. “Forgive me, Lord. When will I ever
learn?”<br /><br />______</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div style="border-width: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-size: large;">UPDATE:
On June 12, 2008, our son gave his father the gift of life. Both father and son
are doing well. Great is His faithfulness!</span></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-14119022683381299012011-11-23T16:18:00.001-08:002011-11-23T16:23:03.881-08:00PROFESSIONAL PRAISERS<span style="font-size: large;">May the Lord make each one of us “professional praisers” this Thanksgiving. Here is a little story to help "jumpstart" our Thanksgiving spirit.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik08Rv9COagBxAXuYavLPkfhjTJceQeWydkOuC4zhmFv2nEypNvoBuGe7xs7JEmLqizgc7h7Hbvv-3nJhwAHUc0eYoVy0eBmwv-lQat5263BNgN4CGwgH_mFWYPgTwkzk-9HxpZe6cXVQ/s1600/Happy+Thanksgiving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik08Rv9COagBxAXuYavLPkfhjTJceQeWydkOuC4zhmFv2nEypNvoBuGe7xs7JEmLqizgc7h7Hbvv-3nJhwAHUc0eYoVy0eBmwv-lQat5263BNgN4CGwgH_mFWYPgTwkzk-9HxpZe6cXVQ/s320/Happy+Thanksgiving.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sir Gabriel’s trumpet blared up and down the golden streets of Beulah Land. Multitudes of people from every kindred shouted in unison, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive glory and honor forever and ever. Worthy is the Lamb upon His throne.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As the corridors of Heaven rang with the praises of the redeemed, Sir Michael whispered to his friend, “Sir Gabriel, look at the white-robed throng! Isn’t it strange? No nation has a monopoly of saints here in Heaven and no tribe is unrepresented.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sir Gabriel smiled. “That’s right, Sir Michael. King El Shaddai has seen to it that all people can understand the greatest story ever told.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prince Emmanuel sat on His throne as the praise and worship filled the Celestial City. Zoe, a cherub, trotted towards Him, crawled on His lap, clutched His nail-scarred hand and gently kissed it. “Mama told me that the scars in Your hands are the only thing made by man that King El Shaddai would allow in Heaven.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The beloved Prince patted her chocolate curls. “That’s right, Zoe. Your mother has taught you well.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Zoe’s dark eyes darted as she scanned the masses. “Mama says the reason the people’s robes are so white and shining is because they have scrubbed them sparkling clean in the Blood of the Lamb and there’s nothing that can take dark spots out of a human soul like the Lamb’s Blood.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prince Emmanuel planted a kiss on the little angel’s head, as heavenly harmonies floated with crystal clarity. “Your mother is very wise.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Zoe cooed, “She sure is! She said that the tiniest people on earth learn about the Lamb in their grandmother’s rocking chair. Did you know that, Prince Emmanuel?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“I believe that is very true, Zoe.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The smoke from the incense billowed around the holy court. Sir Gabriel shouted, “It’s the prayers of the saints. Pray on! Oh, Christians, pray on! Though your voice may be feeble, you have a High Priest who has been touched by your infirmities and He lives forever and makes intercession for you.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Waves of spontaneous praise flooded the streets of the New Jerusalem.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Prince Emmanuel.” Zoe crinkled her freckled nose. “Why can’t angels sing these beautiful songs?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Because, little one, these are songs that are reserved for only those who have been redeemed.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, I get it.” Zoe cheered, “The redeemed are singing songs of praise to the Lamb, who rescued them.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Exactly!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“And I know how they got so good at praising the Lamb, too.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“And how is that?” Prince Emmanuel tilted his head slightly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Zoe lifted her hands and squealed. “They praised the Lamb together in church every Sunday, week after week and year after year. They bowed their heads and thanked Him for His blessings day after day. With all that practice, they have become professional praisers!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Prince Emmanuel chuckled. “Indeed they have, Zoe!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“And they even have one day out of the year that they set aside to give thanks.” Zoe waved one finger in the air. “They call it Thanksgiving.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Very true.” Prince Emmanuel’s head bobbed. “And all of heaven is sweeter because of the praises of the saints.”</span>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-67054246082077839112011-10-29T10:47:00.000-07:002011-10-29T10:47:15.235-07:00My Grandmother's Faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniEUZZZbzvB_5fpiw-jSvz_sco5edyGT8nu6us1-EP63UBgdQFvQY3gkbhZQYXitEUQmUYdDl1law4w-rvcfXsJR3EAz64cqFA1Cr-2bzJm1S7AiGJ1jS_qvkGO08hOaAgdYNQH6AHRk/s1600/Bonnie+%2526+Aunt+Dee+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniEUZZZbzvB_5fpiw-jSvz_sco5edyGT8nu6us1-EP63UBgdQFvQY3gkbhZQYXitEUQmUYdDl1law4w-rvcfXsJR3EAz64cqFA1Cr-2bzJm1S7AiGJ1jS_qvkGO08hOaAgdYNQH6AHRk/s320/Bonnie+%2526+Aunt+Dee+13.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12px;">I have one more “Gramma” story I want to share with you today. I pray this true testimony of God’s touch on my grandmother’s life will strum on your heartstrings and jumpstart you to document your family’s amazing story.</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;">My grandmother had only a fifth grade education, but she graduated valedictorian from the University of Adversity. She was the firstborn child of alcoholic parents. Some of the trauma she endured left gaping holes in her soul. Her deep inner pain caused her to cry out to God as a young wife and mother, and she discovered the power in prayer.<br /><br /> As a young child, I realized God had given my Grandma mountain-moving faith. When she prayed, God showed up. There is one memory etched in my mind’s eye I’d like to share with you today.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;">My mother, Bonnie, was Grandma's second child. She suffered with bouts of severe depression and had to be hospitalized on numerous occasions. After another suicide attempt, our family was summoned to the emergency room. Grandma quickly found a place to pray. She wasn't gone very long and had an unusual bounce in her step when she returned. “The Lord spoke to me today. He told me Bonnie will live and not die. She is going to play her violin for Jesus in church one day."<br /><br /> I didn’t say anything aloud, but thoughts were buzzing in my 11-year-old head. <em>But Grandma, how will Mom ever play her violin in church when she doesn’t even attend church?</em><br /> My thoughts were interrupted by the doctor’s stern voice. "I think we saved her this time, but one of these times she will get the job done. You need to prepare yourselves for what’s ahead."<br /><br /> Grandma, who was usually mild-mannered and polite, bolted from her chair. Pointing her crooked finger in his chest, she barked, "Now you listen to me, Doc. My girl is not going to die, but live and play her violin for Jesus in church."<br /><br /> An awkward silence enveloped the room. The doctor shook his head and made a hasty exit. “Religious nut! Mental illness must run in the family.”</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;">Mom’s depression increased and there were more hospitalizations and suicide attempts. I often heard my grandmother reminding the Lord, “You promised I would see her play the violin for You.”</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;">When I was 16, my mother met a retired pastor's wife who had battled crippling depression. This woman took a keen interest in my mother and tenderly led her into a loving relationship with Jesus.<br /><br /> Mom became a faithful member of a Bible-believing church. One Saturday she announced, "I've been invited to play my violin for special music in church."<br /><br /> Grandma let out a victory yelp and danced a jig. “I’m sitting on the front pew.”</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 12px;">I have been in fulltime ministry for more than thirty years. I've learned much from Bible college and ministry experiences, but it was watching my grandmother's life that taught me the most about the power of prayer. She gave me a sample, a living example, of how an ordinary woman with a simple faith in an extraordinary God can move mountains.<br /><br /> Grandma resides in heaven, but my precious mother is still living. She will soon be 80, and on special occasions still plays her violin for Jesus.</span></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-71858315506863226792011-10-18T13:13:00.000-07:002011-10-18T13:13:24.550-07:00Get in Your "Write" Mind<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_kVz-dUWRqreG45CUa5nhZ_GGMyaOy2q3lm_7HOO07niw7WFcvFtt3nGQvP38hBYGdvVlIhZdh-P_bDeOFUvNnjFnC8HHCwsQH8B1QWV1RY3lS2D0ouYN0tTXf2EmdagUm8PeRTZeBs/s1600/Grandma+Ada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_kVz-dUWRqreG45CUa5nhZ_GGMyaOy2q3lm_7HOO07niw7WFcvFtt3nGQvP38hBYGdvVlIhZdh-P_bDeOFUvNnjFnC8HHCwsQH8B1QWV1RY3lS2D0ouYN0tTXf2EmdagUm8PeRTZeBs/s1600/Grandma+Ada.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p>Great-Grandmother Ada Stillion</o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then God answered: "Write this. <br />
Write what you see.<br />
Write it out in big block letters <br />
so that it can be read on the run.” Habakkuk 2:2 MSG<span style="color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On
my past blogs, I have shared samples of some of the stories I have written for
my family. After my grandmothers’ passing, I realized much of their legacy
would be lost if someone didn’t document their stories. The
great-great-grandbabies being born now might never know how our family came to
Christ. I wanted to document as much of it as I could.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’d
like to point out that you don’t have to be a Karen Kingsbury to write your
family’s story. Just start writing. Don’t dwell too much on proper language
mechanics. Just get your story on paper. There are people with large gifts of
writing who can help you bring your story to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main thing is for you to dust off your
keyboard or pick up your pen and get busy writing. Your family will thank you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After
a loved one has died, I’ve never heard adult children say, “They wrote down too
many things. I don’t have time to read all the stories they jotted down.” But I
have heard many of them say, “Oh, I wish I would have had my grandmother write
down that funny story or favorite recipe. Man, I’d give anything to ask Grandma
about that!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You
have a story and even possibly a book inside you. Don’t listen to anyone or
anything that tries to insinuate you are not smart enough! Time is marching on.
Soon it will be too late. Begin today. Your family will be very thankful for
the gift you’ve left for them. Get in your “write” mind today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
would like to share my great-grandmother’s testimony with you. Six generations
have been influenced for Jesus because of her choice to follow Christ. One
woman, one choice, and six generations! Amazing, isn’t it? I hope you enjoy the
story of my great-grandmother Ada Stillion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One
Woman, One Choice, Six Generations<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ada
poured the last few drops of the bottle of rubbing alcohol into her cup of
coffee. Taking a big gulp, she growled at her husband, “Ed, we're out of
moonshine, and I've used the last of my rubbing alcohol to stop these tremors!”<br />
<br />
Edward hissed back, “Addie, you best get on down to your brother Mel's house
and get us some more brew. We're low on cash, and if we could do some
bootlegging, it might help get us caught up.”<br />
<br />
Ada's brother lived in Metropolis, Illinois, eight hours away from the small
town in Iowa where Ada’s family lived. Every few months Ada and her daughter,
Nettie, would take a trip to load up on some of Kentucky’s white lightning.
They would bring some home and sell most of it to their kinfolks, who were
slaves to whiskey too, but this trip God had something else planned for
forty-five-year-old Ada Stillion, something that would change her life forever.<br />
<br />
“Mel, it's so good to see you!” Ada cooed as she hugged her older brother.<br />
<br />
“Ada!” Mel exclaimed. “So much has happened to my family since we last saw
you.”<br />
<br />
“You got any good whiskey?” Ada asked. “I'm spitting cotton. Let's sit down and
have a stiff drink and then you can tell me all about it.”<br />
<br />
“Addie, I don't drink anymore.” Mel shook his head. “You'll find no whiskey in
our house! I've met Jesus!” <br />
<br />
Ada shot back, “Are you trying to tell me that you done got religion?”<br />
<br />
“No, Addie! I met Jesus.” Mel reached for his sister’s hand. “Tonight we're
having revival meetings at our church. Oh, Addie, you've just got to come. I
have found what we've been searching for.”<br />
<br />
“Church? You want me to go to church?” Ada’s eyebrows stood at attention. “I
ain’t never been to church in my life!”<br />
<br />
Nettie stiffened and poked her elbow in Ada’s side. “Ma and me are going to
Kentucky tonight. We've got some important business to tend to. Don't we, Ma?”<br />
<br />
Mel's moist eyes met Ada's. “Please come. You’ll find what we’ve been looking
for our whole lives.”<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well,
I guess going to one church service ain't gonna kill us,” Ada chuckled. “What
time should we be ready?”<br />
<br />
“Seven o’clock sharp!” Mel let out a whoop.<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>*****<br />
“Listen to that beautiful singing!” Ada motioned for Nettie to sit on the back
pew. “Have you ever heard such singing?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nettie
snarled, “Don’t know why they are singing about blood. That’s kind of gory, don’t
you think, Ma?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ada
pressed her finger to her lips. “Shhhhh. Listen!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What can wash away my
sin?<br />
Nothing but the Blood of Jesus!<br />
What can make me whole again?<br />
Nothing but the Blood of Jesus!</span></span></i><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<br />
Ada sat mesmerized by what she heard and felt. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After
the singing a minister stood behind the pulpit. “We all are sinners and need a
Savior.”<br />
<br />
Ada had flashbacks of her daughters and how alcohol had robbed them of a decent
childhood. <br />
<br />
The pastor invited all who wanted their sins forgiven to come forward and kneel
at the altar. Ada stood to her feet, walked down the aisle, and knelt at the
altar. The minister prayed with her and then asked her if she would like to
pray.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tears poured down Ada’s cheeks. She called out
to God for the first time in her life. “Lord, forgive me of my sins and make me
worthy to be called mother.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When
Ada stood to her feet, she knew she was a new creature in Christ. Old things
had passed away and all things were new!<br />
<br />
“Nettie, we aren’t going to Kentucky to buy any whiskey!” The trip to Kentucky
was canceled. Ada never touched another drop of liquor the rest of her days. She
lived to be ninety-two years old and shared her salvation experience with
anyone who would listen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ada
Stillion was my great-grandmother. Her decision to follow Christ has impacted
six generations. She followed the Lord. Her daughter accepted Jesus. Her granddaughter
invited the Lord into her heart. Her great-granddaughter committed her life to
Jesus. Her great-great-granddaughter dedicated her heart and life to the Lord,
and even Ada’s great-great-great granddaughter has given her life to Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Great-Grandmother
could have left our family a legacy of alcoholism and abuse; instead she left
us a legacy of God's amazing love. God answered her prayer and made her worthy
to be called Mother. In fact, He made her a spiritual mother of many. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-75145676432416539952011-10-11T04:26:00.000-07:002011-10-11T04:26:52.680-07:00Moses Was a Basket Case<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people: “Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile….” Exodus 1:22 NIV</i>
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I love the biblical account of an infant boy named Moses. Satan conjured up a plan to kill him, but God was watching over the little guy. Jehovah gave Moses’ mother a creative plan to save her baby’s life. She built a basket made out of bulrushes and coated it with pitch.<br />
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<i>When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him. Exodus 2:2-4 NIV
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Even though Moses was a “basket case,” he grew into a mighty man of God and was handpicked by Jehovah to deliver the Israelites from the land of bondage.
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My husband and I have been in fulltime ministry for more than 30 years. We have seen firsthand the enemy sabotage ministries in their infancy. We’ve stood in the gap with those God has called for a heavenly assignment and rejoiced with those who fulfill their divine destiny, but our hearts have broken when we watched others allow the wicked one to snuff out a brand new ministry God had called them to.
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I would like to speak directly to those of you who sense the Lord is calling you to “birth” a new ministry, whether it is writing, singing, pastoring, or something else the Lord has laid upon your heart.
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<ul>
<li>Always ask God for wisdom as you begin this new chapter in your life.
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<li>Never lean on your own understanding. It doesn’t matter how smart and experienced you may think you are, in your natural fleshly nature you are no match for the devil.
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<li>Never be shocked by the enemy’s tactics. Remember his goal is to kill every newborn ministry.
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<i>The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10 NIV</i>
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Don't let the enemy destroy what God is “birthing” in your life and ministry. Remember the story of Moses. May God use you to lead souls out of bondage.
Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-30126326882320559332011-08-31T04:16:00.000-07:002011-08-31T04:16:19.374-07:00Write About Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4tutM5_DkLK-WVI6MF26GFJnPbyyiE7ZFTfkrCb3SanosGgHapfhPqdGfe8kzq_KVFPjM-KxvX6-1SIp_AvAaSrR7V9QJwuZra76r4jj0PUMMxmrJ0hNemnjwInz1wpVtvS4uDNDiJA/s1600/Chalk+it+Up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="266" width="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4tutM5_DkLK-WVI6MF26GFJnPbyyiE7ZFTfkrCb3SanosGgHapfhPqdGfe8kzq_KVFPjM-KxvX6-1SIp_AvAaSrR7V9QJwuZra76r4jj0PUMMxmrJ0hNemnjwInz1wpVtvS4uDNDiJA/s320/Chalk+it+Up.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I will never forget my sixth grade teacher, Miss Schmitz. She instilled in me a love for reading with expression, writing intriguing stories, and neatness in penmanship. I would spend hours practicing cursive, trying my best to make the perfect capital J so my paper could be displayed on the coveted bulletin board at the front of the class. <br />
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There were no computers in my elementary school. My creative writing education was pushing my #2 pencil or blue ink pen on a piece of wide-lined notebook paper.<br />
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Times have changed. Most children know more about computers, text messaging, cell phones, instant messaging, and e-mail than the adults in their lives. There is a down side to all this technology. Children are lagging behind in writing skills because they aren’t writing enough.<br />
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I am a new grandmother of soon-to-be four grandchildren. (Our fourth grandchild is due September 17.) I love technology, and I don’t want to go back in time, but I do want our grandkids to have a good grip on the basics of reading and writing. I hope to whet the writing appetite of the wee ones in my life with a few simple inexpensive exercises. Maybe my ideas will encourage your child’s love for writing, too. <br />
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Chalk—There’s nothing like a fresh batch of sidewalk chalk to get a child’s creative juices flowing. Have fun with them as they write their name, a silly poem, story, or song on your driveway or sidewalk. <br />
Menus—With a little imagination, a simple spiral notebook can easily become a menu. Let the child write out their favorite meal and also take supper orders with their new tablet. Be sure to leave a tip!<br />
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Grocery Lists—Allow your child to have an active role in grocery shopping by writing their favorite foods on the list every week. <br />
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Notes—Encourage your child to write a note of appreciation to a local businessperson, relative, friend, or lonely senior citizen. Be sure to take the time to teach them how to properly address the envelope too. <br />
Scrapbooking—Introduce your child to scrapbooking. Colorful markers or colored pencils can make writing titles and dates in their scrapbooks more inviting and spur more interest.<br />
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Reporter—Some children can be reluctant readers and writers, but if you tap into their interests, they will thrive. For instance, if a boy enjoys sports, read a magazine, book, or newspaper article about their favorite sports figure. Then encourage him to write an article of his own. <br />
As you affirm your children’s writing adventures, they will grow and develop as a writer. Be careful not to over correct. Remember the only way they will become a better writer is to write! Write! Write! All the words don’t have to be spelled correctly or the letters formed perfectly. This will come with practice.<br />
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So what are you waiting for? Go find the little ones in your life and write about now!<br />
Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-29572118334405579992011-08-24T19:53:00.000-07:002011-08-24T19:53:35.945-07:00God Makes Lemonade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsBmolAaaFwwnUBLazNbJjGjHk0_wTy1ln2yvxVYEhym0620VTmSiA9ZTud8fsfKcCUecSiAAwiQAmdrEmu3r7_12ay3bCqdNEU2by47Vp7SA1MI6kPuGTnvlX6VQN7yz7_g77wQT2mM/s1600/Lemonade+Dixie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsBmolAaaFwwnUBLazNbJjGjHk0_wTy1ln2yvxVYEhym0620VTmSiA9ZTud8fsfKcCUecSiAAwiQAmdrEmu3r7_12ay3bCqdNEU2by47Vp7SA1MI6kPuGTnvlX6VQN7yz7_g77wQT2mM/s400/Lemonade+Dixie.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I received my ten free copies of God Makes Lemonade. This inspirational collection includes a story about my father-in-law's POW experience. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOcxOP4lAO6H-CEer2ZVdbgfS8H9I50nKX4p3MtINBmyTgXrHPgI6JFffi1pmRugZ9FWm5xjR8d9OKumJPvVLskWRQngzb1eyW-_cN6XmnHRZlwb03-Xfqeg7EC796UuiMenx9T4_u1s/s1600/Drake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOcxOP4lAO6H-CEer2ZVdbgfS8H9I50nKX4p3MtINBmyTgXrHPgI6JFffi1pmRugZ9FWm5xjR8d9OKumJPvVLskWRQngzb1eyW-_cN6XmnHRZlwb03-Xfqeg7EC796UuiMenx9T4_u1s/s400/Drake.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My father-in-law Orville "Drake" Phillips is the soldier on the right.<br />
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I've read a few of the stories and been inspired by the true stories from everyday folks who discover unexpected sweetness in the midst of sour circumstances. <br />
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Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-45201222869179557502011-08-24T08:18:00.000-07:002011-08-24T08:34:06.167-07:00About Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPycEQlsal4XT-bauXELjlaII-zsP1N5fSppZunSE2ne4vvv-doY_Ud077tlY2n4v-E1vl93Y58TLEIBqFNxgyV5KSIgiJ6oT_pd1dAtW6_5sAXIKivBGXw4f5b0Ajp9ShbOUNsBR-Ndc/s1600/Dixie+54th+Birthday+Picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="381" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPycEQlsal4XT-bauXELjlaII-zsP1N5fSppZunSE2ne4vvv-doY_Ud077tlY2n4v-E1vl93Y58TLEIBqFNxgyV5KSIgiJ6oT_pd1dAtW6_5sAXIKivBGXw4f5b0Ajp9ShbOUNsBR-Ndc/s400/Dixie+54th+Birthday+Picture.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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For my blog today, I thought I would share a little bit about myself. I’m hoping after you read this, you’ll feel as if you know me a little better. <br />
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<b>Tidbit Trivia about Me</b><br />
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I have been a pastor’s wife for more than 30 years. My husband, Paul, and I have four married children, two grandsons, one granddaughter, and another grandson expected to arrive in September. <br />
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My husband and I are the promoters of a two-day, all-day southern gospel sing. Over 30 groups from various states come to our little town in Floyd, Iowa. <br />
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I enjoy penning inspirational gospel songs.We have been honored to serve the Gospel Lighthouse Church in Floyd, Iowa, for 30 years and Lighthouse Academy for 23 years.Our son John gave his daddy a kidney on June 12, 2008. It was a defining moment in our lives. We realize more than ever before why today is called the “present.” <br />
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I love tea parties with my girlfriends and enjoy spending as much time as I can with my husband and family. <br />
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<b>My Writing Journey</b><br />
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I have loved to write since I was a little girl, but I the first time I was paid to write was in the early ‘80s. <br />
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I am inspired by real people who stare adversity in the face, raise their shield of faith, and help others find their way safely through the landmines of life. <br />
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I was fortunate to have two godly grandmothers pour into my life as a little girl. They helped shape my small soul. I find my grandmothers’ influence in every story I write. <br />
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<b>A Peek Behind the Scenes</b><br />
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My children’s story One Noble Journey is a story inspired from my own childhood experiences. My maternal grandmother lived in a poor neighborhood called Oak Park. Any of the property in this poverty-stricken location was considered of little value because the lowlands caused frequent flooding. Many who lived on high ground considered Oak Park to be a thorn in the side of their fair city, but this attitude didn’t faze Grandma. She had a heart oozing with God’s love and she was determined to help the neglected and forgotten children of Oak Park. Her home became a soup kitchen, barber shop, and homeless shelter. If anyone from her neighborhood had a problem, they knew they could count on Grandma to help them. She housed frightened children and battered wives. After many years of listening to various problems over a hot cup of coffee and a slice of her homemade pie, Grandma became a seasoned counselor. Most people understood her mission, but there were some folks who were prejudiced against her simply because of where she lived. In my children’s book One Noble Journey, the timeless truths I learned from my grandmother’s life are woven throughout the story. <br />
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Two cultures collide in the tiny village of Westbury, when an orphan girl from the lowlands, the daughter of a Count from the highlands, and a baby raccoon become friends. One Noble Journey is utterly compelling, highlighting the negative power of prejudice and the positive power of God’s love and acceptance. <br />
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<b>Why I Write for Children</b><br />
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I enjoy helping shape small souls for Jesus and transplanting smiles on the faces of children. <br />
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<b>Where can readers purchase a copy of my books?</b><br />
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Autographed copies of my bookscan be purchased directly from me by emailing me at Phillips4Him@omnitelcom.com or you can order my books at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.guardianangelpublishing.com. <br />
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<b>Future Stories</b><br />
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I plan to continue writing stories that shape small souls for Jesus. I believe the seeds of influence from my books will live longer than I do and produce a harvest of wisdom and help ignite a vibrant faith in the heart of child, which will change a generation and time my eyes will never see.<br />
Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501625224518465413.post-48246349463829868572011-08-22T06:22:00.000-07:002011-08-22T06:22:36.565-07:00Angel Eyes Wins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigkDRJLbMloH6JY7EkSp69BiC9UqDZPfvJ_z03zW5jEXGGs8HpTFWq4IVriZf565CbSDIqgxPrrYqX5l6m1vZWDWhFeCtYbJ1Z724rzVMYg6FZ24sd1Rjn-6mlyZ32VA_JXlyKdord6as/s1600/FINALIST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="133" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigkDRJLbMloH6JY7EkSp69BiC9UqDZPfvJ_z03zW5jEXGGs8HpTFWq4IVriZf565CbSDIqgxPrrYqX5l6m1vZWDWhFeCtYbJ1Z724rzVMYg6FZ24sd1Rjn-6mlyZ32VA_JXlyKdord6as/s400/FINALIST.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlhbVESnCm_ouoG-a8zusIvq9UQ0fE4jjAH6RCBPMe1Ob0GKhrqc2EbcDmkZ85ys1hzgsHoIBRnw1LS40XN6PubXo3MsOMb0cUB65TfiIuM2DNMlxKsLhYxtaRPqvBRvByqGOBti458iI/s1600/Angel+Eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlhbVESnCm_ouoG-a8zusIvq9UQ0fE4jjAH6RCBPMe1Ob0GKhrqc2EbcDmkZ85ys1hzgsHoIBRnw1LS40XN6PubXo3MsOMb0cUB65TfiIuM2DNMlxKsLhYxtaRPqvBRvByqGOBti458iI/s400/Angel+Eyes.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<blockquote>Angel Eyes</blockquote>wins the 2011 Global Ebook Award in the Children's Christian category.<br />
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Thank you, Lord, for your blessings!<br />
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Dixie Phillipshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01240520536732809520noreply@blogger.com0