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MAY 2005 ISSUE HOMEPAGE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A Breath of Fresh Air
A Merry Heart
A Woman's World
A Word in Season
Acting Up
As I Imitate Christ
Cyber Walk
Faith Seekers
Golden Apples
Heaven Bound
Just Between Men
Take it to Heart
Teen Truth
The Joy of Family
The Parents'
Survival Guide

The Rhythm of Life
The Treehouse
Through Their Eyes
'Tis the Season
We Are the Church
Well Read


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ARCHIVES
From the Editor -
Lynda Schab
'Tis the Season
Featured Article
Tis the season to celebrate mothers!

Join me as I share intimately how I feel about mine.


My Message to Mom
By Lynda Schab

Once upon a time I was a twelve-year-old girl going through a divorce. No, not my own; my parents were the ones filing. Psychologists said that age twelve was by far the most difficult age for a girl to experience the divorce of her parents and I did go through some traumatic emotional changes because of it. But I am convinced the reason I emerged into adulthood with minimal scarring is due to none other than the grace of God flowing through my mother.

Like most single moms, mine worked hard to provide everything she possibly could for my two younger brothers and me. She went back to school to move up from Licensed Practical Nurse to Registered Nurse so she could increase her income. She was gone to college for one whole year and we lived with my dad, which worked out fine but a young girl needs her mother! I realized more than ever that year just how much.

But Mom finally came home and we settled into a life of routine. She mostly worked the night shift to earn even more. We didn't have the most expensive things but we never went without. She always made sure we had more than enough clothes hanging in our closets, and plenty of food in the refrigerator. All of our physical and material needs were met.

My mom has confided in me several times that she regrets some things she did as a single mom. She has struggled with guilt regarding choices she made that she feels were selfish. She feels that, in many areas, she failed us as a mother.

I think these feelings may be natural for single mothers. The demands and pressures put upon them are undoubtedly unlike any other. In response to the honest feelings of inadequacy she expressed, I would like to share the following letter I wrote to my mom:

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‘Tis the season to celebrate the power of Prayer!

Join in praying for your country and our world this May!


Feasts of Prayer
By Debra Brand

On Thursday May 5, 2005 the people of the United States will observe the National Day of Prayer. President Ronald Reagan proclaimed this day permanently in 1987, along with 33 governors and 150 mayors.

His prayer for us was, "On our National Day of Prayer, then, we join together as people of many faiths to petition God to show us His mercy and His love, to heal our weariness and uphold our hope, that we might live ever mindful of His justice and thankful for His blessing." He urged, "…the citizens of this great nation to gather together on that day in homes and places of worship to pray, each after his or her own manner, for unity of hearts of all mankind."

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‘Tis the season to recognize nurses!

Nurse's Week is the second week in May.

Take some time to thank these women (and yes - men!) who take on this "often dirty job that someone's gotta do!"


No Deposit, No Return
By John Hunt
 
Everyone warned me not to do it.

From my sister, to my neighbor, to total strangers, the message came across loud and clear: Don't become a nurse. And aside from the obvious gender stereotype, I myself could site several reasons for heeding their advice.

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‘Tis the season to appreciate Teachers and celebrate all of the wonderful ways they impact our lives!


Being Different
By Marina Rojas

I vividly remember fourth grade at Eagle Mountain Elementary School in the southern California desert. Our tiny elementary school was set up against the mountains, quite near the iron-ore mine where our fathers would head off to work every morning.

There was one teacher in particular that had caught our attention. Her name was Mrs. Anderson. We all noticed something different about her. Some of the girls said she was a freak. Others said she was a space alien. All I knew is that I did not want to ever be in her room. I had seen her hands. They were different. The fingers on her hand grew progressively smaller, looking like little plump balloons hanging at the end. I was glad she was not my teacher. Her hands made me scared.

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Tis the Season for Mommys to be recognized – even if it's only by our own children.


Mommy Anonymous
By Amy Steele

Suddenly, I am a statistic. I am a domestic engineer with two children - a boy and a girl. I drive a mini van and live in a modest three bedroom, two bath house in a quiet neighborhood. I own two cats and a lot of clothes that used to fit. I took a few years off from my job to be the mama after the birth of my second child. My teaching career might officially resume after my children are bigger. I have brown eyes, brown hair and am of average weight and size. I am the most average person on the planet. I am a mommy, anonymous.

Let me tell you who I used to be: dry clean only clothing was a wardrobe staple. I used to jog every night for a few miles. I took judo for about a year and enjoyed flipping larger people over my head. As a teacher, I taught in a very interesting school where graffiti, vandalism, and social workers were the rule, not the exception.

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