Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cBUNY-0007sg-1h for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Mon, 28 Nov 2016 14:26:28 -0800 Received: from static-ip-69-64-63-79.inaddr.ip-pool.com ([69.64.63.79]:39209 helo=powerfulstreamer.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cBUNT-0007rt-IT for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 28 Nov 2016 14:26:27 -0800 Date: Mon, 28 Nov 2016 15:48:00 -0700 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Subject: Unlimited movies, TV, and more - Watch for nothing: ref. 20403067 Message-ID: <720403067.c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed66213639200talojban@lojban.org3z> From: "Shari Copeland" Mime-Version: 1 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii To: X-Spam-Score: -1.2 (-) X-Spam_score: -1.2 X-Spam_score_int: -11 X-Spam_bar: - i got that feeling

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Now, if you have little , you already know that there are times theyd rather have a good sticker than a handful of cash. And this sticker was special: white with a picture of a tarantula stamped in yellow, it read, I held Rosie This wasnt just any old sticker; this was a badge of courage Cassie bent low over the keepers hand. Colton looked up at me, blue eyes wide. Can I have a sticker, Daddy? You have to hold Rosie to get a sticker, buddy. Cassie straightened and smiled at Sonja. Ill hold her, Mommy. Can I hold Rosie? Okay, but youll have to wait your turn, Sonja said. Okay, I said. But can I have a sticker? Nope, the only way to get one is to hold her. Cassie did it. You can do it if you want to. Do you want to try? Just for a second? Colton looked back at the spider, then at his sister, and I could see wheels turning behind his eyes: Cassie did it. She didnt get bit. Then he shook his head firmly: No. But I still want a sticker he insisted. At the time, Colton was two months shy of four years old???and he was very good at standing his ground. The only way you can get a sticker is if you hold Rosie, Sonja said. Are you sure you dont want to hold her? Colton answered by grabbing Sonjas hand and trying to tug her away from the keeper. No. I wanna to go see the starfish. Are you sure? Sonja said. With a vigorous nod, Colton marched toward the CrawlASeeUm door. TWO PASTOR JOB Cassie and Colton oohed and aahed as they dipped their hands in manmade tide pools and touched creatures that they had never seen. Next, we stepped into a massive atrium, bursting with jungle leaves, vines tumbling down, branches climbing toward the sky. I took in the palm trees and exotic flowers that looked as if theyd come from one of Coltons storybooks. And all around us, clouds of butterflies flitted and swirled. One morning that October, right about the time Id gotten used to hobbling everywhere on crutches, I awoke to a dull throbbing in my lower back. I knew instantly what the problem was: kidney stones. The doctor immediately ruled that out. Crutches dont do that, he said. I need to call a surgeon. The surgeon, Dr. Timothy OHolleran, performed a needle biopsy. The results that came back a few days later shocked me: hyperplasia. Translation: the
precursor to breast cancer. Breast cancer A man with a broken leg, kidney stones, and???come on, really????breast cancer? Later, when other pastors in my district got wind of it, they started calling me Pastor Job, after the man in the biblical book of the same name who was struck with a series of increasingly bizarre symptoms. For now, though, the surgeon ordered the same thing he wouldve if a womans biopsy had come back with the same results: a mastectomy. Strong, Midwestern woman that she is, Sonja took a practical approach to the news. If surgery was what the doctor ordered, thats the path we would walk. Wed get through it, as a family. I felt the same way. But it was also about this time that I also started feeling sorry for myself. For one thing, I was tired of loping around on crutches. Also, a mastectomy isnt exactly the manliest surgery in the world. Finally, Id been asking the church board for a long time to set aside money for me for an assistant. Only after this second round of kidney stones did the board vote to authorize the position. Instead of feeling grateful as I should have, I indulged myself with resentment: So I have to be a cripple and be on the verge of a cancer diagnosis to get a little help around here? My pity party really got rolling one afternoon. I was down on the first floor of the church property, a finished basement, really, where we had a kitchen, a classroom, and a large fellowship area. I had just finished up some paperwork and began working my way upstairs on my crutches. Down at the bottom, on the first step, I started getting mad at God. This isnt fair, I grumbled aloud, as I struggled up the stairs, one crutch at a time, one step at a time. I have to suffer and be in this pathetic state for them to give me the help Ive needed all along. Feeling pretty smug in my martyrdom, I had just reached the top landing when a still, small voice arose in my heart: And what did my Son do for you? Humbled and ashamed of my selfishness, I remembered what Jesus said to the disciples: A student is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master.1 Sure, Id had a rough few months, but they were nothing compared with what a lot of people in the world were going through, even at that very minute. God had blessed me with a small group of believers whom I was charged to shepherd and serve, and here I was griping at God because those believers werent serving me. Lord, forgive me, I said, and swung forward with renewed




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