tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33690098500344362472024-02-21T06:12:36.809-08:00We Made Our HuppahThis is the story of how Mark and I met and the wonderful Day we began our life together as One. Rich is the history and tradition of our Faith, embedded with the love we share. May all Who read be blessed.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-76670201291461570332009-11-03T19:24:00.000-08:002014-06-05T14:56:36.611-07:00A Quick Note<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano">http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano</a> <br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>I confess, I becoming alittle sad because we are close to the end of this Blog. It's intend was to share the lead up to and our Wedding.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Funny how life works.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>A few days ago, I saw on the Blong I Have Tea, a challenge. To write a novel in a month. A friend thought our story would make a cool novel, so I am going for it, and in this way, fill in many of the blanks I didn't cover here. I really don't know the outcome of this, but isn't that part of life?</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>So, I invite you dear readers to continue to hang in there and when I find out how you can read my written in one novel, I shall let you.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>In the meantime, enjoy the remaining passages of We Made Only Own Huppah.</em></strong></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-20328825444536581292009-11-02T18:56:00.000-08:002009-11-02T18:56:11.186-08:00Henna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXaSKAYCM_ief3eahCGWaFlqokqb-qyH4fUGt6_KeaG9GbRXlcVsOimJqtqc0Snj4MOZgYX6RgP9yip7hAH2DK4AIWFmudQELujCdn7WgE0WCQfCk4jqGus11Kb4NUXZDazsi1ZRsyuVc/s1600-h/ZCAM6T2N6CAA3P10UCANFKTPXCABWEZJ5CANNWC48CA6IKD3HCACYV1GICAJIFOYVCAGM8ZGXCAHU42PPCATH17OVCAGUV937CAMDKDBDCAA352GZCA5R0O78CAQX1E1PCA7JIAKHCAT2EI1XCA5UVX43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXaSKAYCM_ief3eahCGWaFlqokqb-qyH4fUGt6_KeaG9GbRXlcVsOimJqtqc0Snj4MOZgYX6RgP9yip7hAH2DK4AIWFmudQELujCdn7WgE0WCQfCk4jqGus11Kb4NUXZDazsi1ZRsyuVc/s400/ZCAM6T2N6CAA3P10UCANFKTPXCABWEZJ5CANNWC48CA6IKD3HCACYV1GICAJIFOYVCAGM8ZGXCAHU42PPCATH17OVCAGUV937CAMDKDBDCAA352GZCA5R0O78CAQX1E1PCA7JIAKHCAT2EI1XCA5UVX43.jpg" vr="true" /></em></strong></span></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Henna.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>It is an old, anicent tradition of beauty for women going through various stages of life as well as men.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Thousends of years old, the henna plant is ground into a fine powder, made into a paste and then applied to the skin in lovely patterns. I remember seeing the Henna applied first hand in Morocco; it looks like buttrfly wings that have been woven into gloves and slipped onto the hands and feet. </em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Brides in Africa, The MiddleEast and The Mediterranean, Jews, Muslims, Hindi and Christians brides have henna parties the night before their weddings. It is also done for preparation of the birth of a child, coming of age, birthdays the circumcision of a son and for a Warrior when he comes home victorious from war.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>And I wanted this lovely custom for my wedding.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>We ordered Chinese Food and tried to make it fun. But because only my Matron of Honour was willing to take part and then learning I had dropped my wallet (a very nice man called to tell me he found it. It just had our Wedding Plans, Mark's orders, my ID and a few hundred dollars.) the fun went out the door.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Plus the henna needed to settle for 24 hours.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>So instead of getting it done Thrusday, it was Friday evening.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>But Isabelle, my niece who did the artwork, had drawn the template on my hands and feet.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWIAFaMVlrzfs47NriOI7sdpskBlPJE977SUQ0BBBfy_cNZvN6_SkvyEbwxEcCVfQdK7xLzLDazoxl3lhVNedZGbxwTuc0bWYeRZ-B9ZdJZFiR0ERKqChRY7yUM4G2QAswsIaq-82ewg/s1600-h/Picture+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWIAFaMVlrzfs47NriOI7sdpskBlPJE977SUQ0BBBfy_cNZvN6_SkvyEbwxEcCVfQdK7xLzLDazoxl3lhVNedZGbxwTuc0bWYeRZ-B9ZdJZFiR0ERKqChRY7yUM4G2QAswsIaq-82ewg/s400/Picture+008.jpg" vr="true" /></em></strong></span></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Henna actually feels good on the skin and has a reddish-brown to black colouring. With my skin colour, my Henna would come out a Dessert Rose, just a few shades darker than my hair.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em> Once dry and the henna is bushed off, you must take care not to wash the hands and feet for ateast 24 hours. In other cultures, this is the reason why the Bride has bridesmaids; to help her not only dress, but even to eat and bath her.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>I used plastic gloves to cover my hands and feet. The pattens usually last with care betwee three and six weeks. The reason is to give the bride and groom time to get to know each other and enjoy each other. It is said as long as the Henna lasts, so does the Honeymoon.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Mine lasted six weeks.</em></strong></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TibkqS4iWQ-PiYxY6K2HD9AUgyNnszUG_zbRLAW9bMVKt0hGFOxXnl2xDkwG04uvpXxph1Ilko0pwBU4btkoAfe6kE5LmN3FpJg8F51dxzqM6RuP-FP0ULHzGE8OinOW_fQwciBGjTA/s1600-h/Picture+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TibkqS4iWQ-PiYxY6K2HD9AUgyNnszUG_zbRLAW9bMVKt0hGFOxXnl2xDkwG04uvpXxph1Ilko0pwBU4btkoAfe6kE5LmN3FpJg8F51dxzqM6RuP-FP0ULHzGE8OinOW_fQwciBGjTA/s400/Picture+017.jpg" vr="true" /></em></strong></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtwyKCOWPeuZ4L9ULoxsLWQKXTkfba924Cm1hmAug7pqh-SbCd6NbOsYPDLiqDwfQVdA16wUlapEov13IDcLAJu4z-oTsM0DSoudHukRbBbmnJE6GvyIjGW78f3nxuaagkq9Xq4fzXQ4/s1600-h/Picture+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtwyKCOWPeuZ4L9ULoxsLWQKXTkfba924Cm1hmAug7pqh-SbCd6NbOsYPDLiqDwfQVdA16wUlapEov13IDcLAJu4z-oTsM0DSoudHukRbBbmnJE6GvyIjGW78f3nxuaagkq9Xq4fzXQ4/s400/Picture+022.jpg" vr="true" /></em></strong></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jsi3Lz0N_MoakUZNBX6P0xcQBDkd8SI0C83TKHlgEf1axWfGnb1_5bmS-r04uHOSSudYTgkH4zOccghj8YSUSriMyXUKl_cHvFHvLscp3zSYUwK94OvX_QTEi1x9YTS76Tdy8xIxz6I/s1600-h/Picture+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jsi3Lz0N_MoakUZNBX6P0xcQBDkd8SI0C83TKHlgEf1axWfGnb1_5bmS-r04uHOSSudYTgkH4zOccghj8YSUSriMyXUKl_cHvFHvLscp3zSYUwK94OvX_QTEi1x9YTS76Tdy8xIxz6I/s400/Picture+014.jpg" vr="true" /></em></strong></span></a><br />
</div><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>The next morning, when I went to pickup the wedding gown, the Indian ladies who had worked on my gown was fluttering about me, giggling like little girls. They had never seen an American Bride with Henna and it thrilled them to no bitss that there was someone who understand and appreacted the wonder of Henna.</em></strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-1176133445954526442009-06-02T05:42:00.000-07:002009-11-02T16:57:59.119-08:00Bridezilla<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvvTs-4_NZjPJmQnJ-aVvk_lw7BZhM8ayEwn0kr7YwmUsiWqCx4eWmaDhilV2o4z0gNaQYPNdcBcVdDrETFsQZRIjDIKhQy8P4O5HEVdg-Em0fwte2xd1P9pItL6OXSvIQ8BVXA_-quI/s1600-h/images.jpg"><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342712522388113634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvvTs-4_NZjPJmQnJ-aVvk_lw7BZhM8ayEwn0kr7YwmUsiWqCx4eWmaDhilV2o4z0gNaQYPNdcBcVdDrETFsQZRIjDIKhQy8P4O5HEVdg-Em0fwte2xd1P9pItL6OXSvIQ8BVXA_-quI/s400/images.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 133px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 91px;" /></em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em> I confess: I had three Bridezilla moments.<br />
Mark said he was very proud of me.<br />
Considering I was marrying Groomzilla, that was saying something.<br />
The first was my dealings with Information, trying to obtain a phone number.<br />
If you work the Information line, take my advise; if you are dealing with a screaming mimi on the other end of the phone, you are dealing with a stressed out bride. Saying; "now, now dearie," is going to cause a sudden blast and you find yourself a pile of ciders. Just take a deep breath and move heaven and earth if need be to find the phone number she is demanding and no one will get hurt.</em></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMdIUxHGjUvUo-3nB6Znbxr9nseyvWUaBNQsFBgQTbAjas7VN0AQwHko90sHGCoKPPLVSG1fQQk59UAXPE0OLv6_DIqY6jqFXZFsLNrWiXz0CVY4WamRucgl0zpmgDNj80D3Y1zcKKJw/s1600-h/images+the+reel+bride.jpg"><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342712518290205218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMdIUxHGjUvUo-3nB6Znbxr9nseyvWUaBNQsFBgQTbAjas7VN0AQwHko90sHGCoKPPLVSG1fQQk59UAXPE0OLv6_DIqY6jqFXZFsLNrWiXz0CVY4WamRucgl0zpmgDNj80D3Y1zcKKJw/s400/images+the+reel+bride.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 127px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 99px;" /></em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em> The dodo I was dealing with didn't know this. And it didn't help when Mark, having found my personal phonebook, pointed to the very number I was looking for.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>But imformation couldn't find it....</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Mark, taking his life in his hands, started laughing at me. For I was screaming, storming about my tiny apartment: "What I want is my hairdresser's telephone number! Is that so much to ask?"</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Mark took me in his arms, kissed my forehead and held me for a few minutes, allowing me a good cry.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Then, letting me go, he stepped and showed me what I looked like...</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Stomp, stomp stomp..."I want that number and I want it NOOOOWWWW!"</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>I couldn't help but laugh at want I really looked like.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Next was the invivtations. My niece design our wedding invivations. Using Parchment paper, the invitations looked like scrolls.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>And of course there several complaints because they weren't "real wedding invitation" i.e not Emily Post approved. </em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Without getting into the details (Because it was done as a favor and we really did appreate the effort) there were problems with the printing job and tempers flew. The shock: no one expects ME to get angry. Because I am so 'nice' it is assured I will just roll over. There are several former classmates who ended up with busted lips who would tell you otherwise. When I let out a blast of flames, the matter was quickly settled.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>The next was four days before the wedding and it had to do with the wedding party itself.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em> In this case we were willing to make a compromise, but I let it be known the parties involved should have come to us instead of running to someone else. At this point I was ready to clute the whole thing and elope; with or without Mark.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Please don't ask me what that means: I was a stressed out bride at this time.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>And then came the tirara. Each of the bridesmaids were going to wear a tiria since I was wearing a Coined Crown.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Would you believe there was a problem with that as well?</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Lesson: Maid/Matron of Honour/brides's maids: it's the Bride's day. Please don't insist on YOUR way. Your role is an honour, not a right. Your job is to support your friend/ sister, and do the jobs you are asked. And as long as you are not asked to dye your hair green or shave it bald, don't kick up a fuss if your asked to have it curled, braided, upswept.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Brides: be willing to compromise. If you wish to keep these relationships after the wedding. Be willing to listen, be willing to give several options. And if it that important to you, be willing to pick up part of the cost.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>But brides and grooms aren't mind readers. If your Tux or bride'smaid dress is something you can't allow, we are willing to work with you, even help with cost or make some changes since your presence is important to us.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>We did this and we still have wonderful relationships with all but one that was in our wedding party.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>All in all, I think I did ok. </em></strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>For a Bridezille.</em></strong><br />
</span></span><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aQRyAyYV8C0ORgLgm4LLz7njA6InNTfx_SFGBdtugZ9F9lPfvg8NMnOlC97K8XB3eZPKQc5HqID_9JGsHXSGU0PuhDyTyNAl4Sn-b0ZigVvbf37IFgdQNN0ilxHGIW-mP_MMCbjftVs/s1600-h/images.jpg"></a><br />
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<div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-83172347640061657462009-06-02T04:52:00.000-07:002009-11-02T17:11:58.209-08:00Where's The Scotch?<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Planinng a wedding can make drive even saint to drink.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>So many details, so many people who feel they have the right to tell you how it should be and not be done</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>For some, Mark and I were making a big deal out of it. I'd been married before and therefore it should be a small affair. </em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>What these folks fail to realize that in our traditional, for me, this marriage was a new beginning and worth celebrating. And it was Mark's first marriage and he wanted to celebrate our union.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em> For others it was the religious issues. Many had a problem wrapping their brains over the traditons, over the program itself. And only one was decent enough to come to and ask US about what we were doing and not gossiping about us and our wedding plans to others.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Yes, I called it gossip. And it added to my stress level.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Today I advise brides to hire a Wedding Planner and I mean HIRE. Someone who does this for a living and not a personal friend, family memember or well-intended Caregroup memeber. If your place of worship has a Wedding Ministry, by all means work with and make use of it.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>The life you save will be those in your wedding party. Your groom. Your mother and soon to be mother by marriage.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>I also advise work that body. If you jog, speed walk, kick-box, swim, etc, keep it up. If not, go to the Y and take up boxing. And don't forget the pink boxing gloves. It works off all of the stress and care and you walk away clear headed.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>In my case, it was dance. </em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Since Marissa and Sarah were working with the dancers for the beginning of the wedding, I turned my attention to the groom's dance.<br />
One day while running errands, I was musing out loud about the Daughters' of Zion Dance.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>"Should it be in the beginning or the end.."<br />
Mark piped up, "Don't worry baby, I'm dance for you"<br />
"Your on!"<br />
And to Mark's horror, I held him to it.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>What was a hoot was the groomsmen.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>None wanted to dance.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>But of course, I had a trick up my sleeve...</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>You see, we have a saying: "Anything that makes the Bride rejoice."</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>And I used it to my advange.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>"I am sure gla to hear your dancing for my wedding..." batting eyes, big smile.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>"Of course, Laini. Anything to make the Bride rejoice."</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong><em>Ahhhh the power :) </em></strong></span><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">The "Rejoicing Over the Bride," over the bride was the Hora, a Hebrew dance done by Jews around the world during weddings, celebrating the becoming Bar/Bat Mitvzah, etc. It is very simple and can be picked up quickly.</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">Mark and I also worked on our first dance. Since I am 5'8 and Mark is 6'5, there is a slight height difference and we had to work on our waltz. Being a dance teacher, I am use to leading, so it was both hard and funny for me to give up the lead and allowing my body to just rest and trust Mark where he would lead me. Soon, the flow came and our pratices went well. I remember one afternoon whlle praticing at Beth Messiah, we felt eyes upon us. The workmen had stopped the work on the roof to watch us.</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">Mark just held me closer, reminding me many more eyes would be upon us for our first dance.</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">And of course there are spiritual truths here:</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">The success of a marriage rise or falls on the trust each mate has in the other. We are to yield to each other. There are times I lead in our love dance; they are times Mark does. But we must trust each's steps.</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">We who claim the Name of Messiah have not yet been removed form the world. Our dance with our beloved, with our Beloved Messiah is viewed by a watching world. Are we waltzing together? Or fighting for control? Do they see a loving couple? Or the Clash of the Titians? When watching us, does the world seeing Yeshua in our lives, as the One leading our lives. Or do they see a breakdance solo?</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">It was during this time I realize when we prayed that people would see Yeshua in our relationship, our wedding, our marriage, this would be a tall order.</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">Were we up to the task?</span></em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-43399347372823550982009-06-01T15:25:00.000-07:002009-06-01T15:56:17.450-07:00One Month and Counting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV5BkcrwrumfMiIazOcB9xsctjkBTUPHr2xyjQPaIrTQYehPYGhxstLSL7bB4JFs2Q0Lwr4TJhNWCU708ulC72HQ5qI1JsttDC6X3FU2N2vvJm3BLS9HpUXkqwZWwP2TfmwFon4TAmpI/s1600-h/Reel+Pictures+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342496424212162114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV5BkcrwrumfMiIazOcB9xsctjkBTUPHr2xyjQPaIrTQYehPYGhxstLSL7bB4JFs2Q0Lwr4TJhNWCU708ulC72HQ5qI1JsttDC6X3FU2N2vvJm3BLS9HpUXkqwZWwP2TfmwFon4TAmpI/s320/Reel+Pictures+001.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>I realize as I make this entry, it was four years ago today that it dawn on me I was getting married in 26 days.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>We were at MacDonald's enjoying ice cream with my new two nephews and niece when the thought hit me.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>And we were still working on the Huppah, I was still working on Mark's prayer shawl. </em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Mark's sister-in-law had come down to help when both dad and mum Reel took ill and we had to drive them back to Ohio. This also cut into our preparation time.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>We just had to trust G-d to redeem the time and He did.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Sadly, a few of the people we wanted in our wedding party could not be a part due to our changes the date.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>But we were thankful for those who were able to stand in</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>But I was also in for a shock: my wedding gown.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>In march, I had been rushed to the ER due to a migraine headache. It was that bad and i had never suffered like that before. It turns out my blood pressure was through the roof and the only thing that stopped me from stroking was the vomiting taking pressure off my brain. It turns out I had a small tumor on my pituitary gland that made my pressure shoot up. Thankfully after three days in hospital I was send home with steroids to remove the tumor. But the steroid caused me to gain 20 pounds. Once off the steroid, I lost 10 pounds, but I still could not get in my wedding gown, which in February had been a perfect fit. I was told it had to be let out by an inch and a half. Which wasn't bad, but I was still in tears. The seamstress told me to eat lots of watermelon, drink water with lemon to remove the rest of the fluid. Which was the same advise I had <span style="color:#ffff00;"> </span>received from my doctor. </em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Since I loved salad and salmon anyway, Mark in support of me, joined me in the adjustment of om y diet. Plus to be honest, hitting the fastfood places because we were so busy didn't help.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Lesson for future brides: no fastfoods. It adds to the stress as well as could affect your last fitting. Make time to prepare healthy meals. Workout and drink lots of water.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Well, the changes worked so well, not only did my gown fit nicely, it was loose! </em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>On my wedding day I had to take tiny steps; no stripe teasing in the synagogue :)</em></strong></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-13834818256454371422009-04-02T15:24:00.000-07:002009-04-02T15:39:35.608-07:00The Great Get Away<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong> Williamsburg: May, 2005</strong></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNAMTET9Wq-MSY3UeW5SVKKSLC0uFRbfyJXSmIMT5epvc4tqwJcH9JF2dh2A5FZpqgcx_kZuXt6MLWAtnDFEcQB3inMPBM4S9B7aOFpC8akgfmJ9XFQ1eiJezvx7aw1g4xUXBrnQBtpc/s1600-h/williamburge+1.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320223928433753090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNAMTET9Wq-MSY3UeW5SVKKSLC0uFRbfyJXSmIMT5epvc4tqwJcH9JF2dh2A5FZpqgcx_kZuXt6MLWAtnDFEcQB3inMPBM4S9B7aOFpC8akgfmJ9XFQ1eiJezvx7aw1g4xUXBrnQBtpc/s320/williamburge+1.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong> Mark and I with a new found friend; wish I could remember its name....and yes, my only are my legs showing, but my hair is uncovered. But then, Mark and I aren't married yet.<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9nJcrmCCU8_VXio4Rbg_I5ooQBUav98ExnhBUO3MsWIHsDMRbSGd-r5yruEeXZhoxKMNrIljwf_P90s1Y3Dl-OtN_SCrfNSqQkBBKHZZLgCVvCvGlZt28dsGgtvHiwPDVIpY3ABb7Ao/s1600-h/Picture+215.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320223914673552018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9nJcrmCCU8_VXio4Rbg_I5ooQBUav98ExnhBUO3MsWIHsDMRbSGd-r5yruEeXZhoxKMNrIljwf_P90s1Y3Dl-OtN_SCrfNSqQkBBKHZZLgCVvCvGlZt28dsGgtvHiwPDVIpY3ABb7Ao/s320/Picture+215.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><br />Funny looking at these pictures. Mark gained weigh from Chemo; me from taking streoids to remove a nasel growth. We have both lost some much weigh since then we look like different people.<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYUeA58Kehi1Q1wEruVNzRiCGavNiepchuUHFxoiI_9Zu7tUmF3stJFfDWUhwzgdlmc-qZA2hWkcYAOIzo3-ZHZiL3gU0thsU6aaxtYLnZbpC9U4eaJg4N_nlq5_uMqDk9Zh0TQKOq4o/s1600-h/Picture+213.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320223911246404146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYUeA58Kehi1Q1wEruVNzRiCGavNiepchuUHFxoiI_9Zu7tUmF3stJFfDWUhwzgdlmc-qZA2hWkcYAOIzo3-ZHZiL3gU0thsU6aaxtYLnZbpC9U4eaJg4N_nlq5_uMqDk9Zh0TQKOq4o/s320/Picture+213.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><br />The Governor House. Since we didn't have Guest passes, we couldn't go into. That would have to wait until our honeymoon.<br /><br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYrBfXdJcCyUicB2oZlG8aidol9iE3J94l_DLZ_dhSbJeoB_t-1D6ZpT7Z6TNfXy247ahyphenhyphenzm2Z3wOj0rnNwSvWiCH30W-MH7DVJUtfZ3d-0b_JRtgzWLwgQDm07yU3Ab6Q8bQ2cj-RWA/s1600-h/Picture+212.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320223901894142082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYrBfXdJcCyUicB2oZlG8aidol9iE3J94l_DLZ_dhSbJeoB_t-1D6ZpT7Z6TNfXy247ahyphenhyphenzm2Z3wOj0rnNwSvWiCH30W-MH7DVJUtfZ3d-0b_JRtgzWLwgQDm07yU3Ab6Q8bQ2cj-RWA/s320/Picture+212.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>The Mail Office.<br /><br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ZkAnZsNzHmrjA_slbgHZk52rg04wAqv5j8Yq8dBdloDNcIuHFHNP-mLt47jEZb6DY3G28qekFuMqwB68MjKhK9PuLHVTdz0L1Q3ZX-mJGnwnpcf3de8SboA4ZunZXo0UxKPedZH_74/s1600-h/Picture+211.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320223892872884754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ZkAnZsNzHmrjA_slbgHZk52rg04wAqv5j8Yq8dBdloDNcIuHFHNP-mLt47jEZb6DY3G28qekFuMqwB68MjKhK9PuLHVTdz0L1Q3ZX-mJGnwnpcf3de8SboA4ZunZXo0UxKPedZH_74/s320/Picture+211.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong> It was a wonderful, restful three days. We left Friday before Shabbat and returned Sunday evening.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>The first night. Mark and I had supper in his room. I ordered a hamburger and fries, he the Governor's Special; fowl and spring veggies.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>When our meal arrived and the waiter left, we Blessed G-d for the food and Mark got the shock of his life.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>The piece of fowl barely fit in the palm of his hand. It was really a Chicken McNuggart. The veggies were tiny and a spoonful. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>"Your kidding!"</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>I had to work hard not to laugh. My supper was less than $20.00.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>Mark's 35.00</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>So, after Mark finished his three bite chicken, I cut my hamburger in half and shared half my fries.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong>He walked me to my room, said good-night and in the quiet of my room, burst out laughing.</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-58933582368831118632009-04-02T10:54:00.000-07:002009-11-02T17:04:44.872-08:00A Breather<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykKqtHw8pDrhLaSit9MYXi5ENPmvdvC4d3ktB8FFw6yEN2b0hIC2KK1IFeKxS5DTtckR9zglcKUi2rKOjx0rtLDm1dnCFOtxhTEPggnBw4cR3qiHSooLrc_dj0qiZTzc2x7jfXLeiyLw/s1600-h/williamburge+1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320158205564614898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykKqtHw8pDrhLaSit9MYXi5ENPmvdvC4d3ktB8FFw6yEN2b0hIC2KK1IFeKxS5DTtckR9zglcKUi2rKOjx0rtLDm1dnCFOtxhTEPggnBw4cR3qiHSooLrc_dj0qiZTzc2x7jfXLeiyLw/s320/williamburge+1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong></strong></span><br />
</div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>In May, our lives changed.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>We went from having another three months to plan our wedding to suddnely four weeks before the big day.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>And that is a huge jump.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>With the preparings there was major family illnesses and Mark and I spend much of our time running from hosptial to hosptial to assistance care. Thankfully, Mark had finish is Chemo and was getting to get his colour back, but he still tired easy and there were times I was concern about his health. And naturally we were beginning to snap at each other.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Finally, at one point, Mark looked at me and said, "Enough!"</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>"Excuse me?"</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>"Enough. Enough of this. We have been taking care of everyone but each other. We need to get away. Just enjoy being in love."</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>I can live with that.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>So, that weekend, which was a three day weekend, Mark and I threw packed our over night bags, turned off his cell-phone and headed for Williamburge, Virginia.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Williamsburge is beautiful in the Spring. After settling into our rooms, we began to unwind. </strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Peace.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Quiet.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>No drama.</strong></span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Mark had been waiting for his back pay, since we were planning a honeymoon trip to Israel. But since the pay still haven't come in, we had to make other plans.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>And since Mark and I both love history, we decided Williamsburg, Jamestown and Yorktown for our honeymoon. One cannot take in Williamsburg in less than three days.</strong></span><br />
<div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Of course we didn't tell anyone about our plans until after we came home.</strong></span><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>So, here we are, all alone, save tourist, remembering what was really important.</strong></span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><strong>Each other.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-70086116727763186612009-03-31T05:57:00.000-07:002009-03-31T06:23:36.531-07:00Put Them In Check<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZK1KwTrRfIr2qqaFNBz004knfqauxywy6x40zagRQUfv-jA7Dvr936Oq4YqEcwrlFfhD0nWIUHDvZ_dGQxnsOJlqsElqxoEZtk6CBjJAHdnBKZqzBput5ZG7IdFXAhoRTZz0j4-hSZjQ/s1600-h/IMG_0635.JPG"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319336143505411314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZK1KwTrRfIr2qqaFNBz004knfqauxywy6x40zagRQUfv-jA7Dvr936Oq4YqEcwrlFfhD0nWIUHDvZ_dGQxnsOJlqsElqxoEZtk6CBjJAHdnBKZqzBput5ZG7IdFXAhoRTZz0j4-hSZjQ/s320/IMG_0635.JPG" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong> This lovely couple are not only best buddies, but family, Rudy and Jereel.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>And during the preparation of our wedding, Rudy saved many a life.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>One of the things I came to realize is dispite the face we were an older couple and paying for our own wedding, that people, friend and family, would still feel they had the right to say something about our wedding.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>"Why do you have to have such a big wedding?"</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>"Why don't you just elope or go to the Justice of the Peace?"<br />"It's isn't going to be a Jewish Wedding, is it?"<br /> "You'd been married before, what's the big deal?"</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>And then there is my all time favorite: "Your not wearing white, are you?"</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>No, I wore ivory and if I did chose to wear white that would be MY business. In a Jewish wedding, it isn't about how many times you have been married. A Jewish wedding is about celebrating a new beginning, a new creation. This bride and this groom make a new family. White is wore to celebrate a fresh start; white is the sign of joy and happiness. That is why a Jewish woman, whether widow or divorced wears white, because this is a new beginning.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>Mark, knowing my heart, wanted to give me the wedding of my dreams. He wanted to celebrate his love for me and this wedding was his love gift to me, his beloved.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>I remember one Shabbat, in tears, speaking to Rudy because of the trouble we were having. </strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>"Tell me ask you a few questions," I remember Rudy saying.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>"Who is Mark marrying? Who is paying for this wedding? If they don't have a shilling in that pound, then girlfriend, you need to put those folks in check."</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>How right she was.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>So the next time someone had something to say about the Wedding, I simply said: "Mark and I figured out how much we wish to spend on this wedding. How much are you planning to chip in?"</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>A few days later, I had to inform someone at Beth Messiah that Mark told me to tell anyone who has a problem with how we are doing things, come talk to him.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>Problem solved.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong></strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>In May, we had members on both side of the families become ill. Mark and I were running here, there and everywhere taking care of this person, looking after that person, along with planning our wedding. And in the mist, we saw once again, hands working to pull us apart.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>Having sat down with our Rabbi, it was decicded to push up the wedding date to June. This way we could deal with all that we facing as a couple.</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>We were thankful the vendors were able to work with us. But this met the lost of several memebers of our wedding party, but thankfully we had enough time to do some adjustments</strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em><strong>And I felt better with getting married in June.</strong></em></span><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;">But this meant we had to work twice as hard and fast on the Huppah.</span><br /></span></strong></em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-24919274885703530312009-03-29T09:57:00.000-07:002009-06-01T15:58:52.591-07:00And Then It Happen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQL15vgr9eIBjdjb01vwUq9WjI5EuxhZEcmFg9YdwyUSvGevtjnm4zKVdZaqkI9t2qoIzAl9ckVg4DtjZEQ4vn6e8X0CkmJSIgIhR1uFRAnRbOZp1cEWV8dvSvELefhAszo7-GhO3A5Hw/s1600-h/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+003.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318666161080557954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQL15vgr9eIBjdjb01vwUq9WjI5EuxhZEcmFg9YdwyUSvGevtjnm4zKVdZaqkI9t2qoIzAl9ckVg4DtjZEQ4vn6e8X0CkmJSIgIhR1uFRAnRbOZp1cEWV8dvSvELefhAszo7-GhO3A5Hw/s320/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+003.jpg" /></em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em> Me, working on our Huppah. Our Huppah is a huge Prayer shawel with the colours from the Tent of Meetings.<br /></em></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEVg3Je6nHCQ6cn2rTD63LUjtDqPKUor87C9h32H0XOHhirTs6bDFi1D5YxTuPugmY4qd4V6NFkvlGWU7LGqN16lHf9sL9YqY-wzqeLmSTXHNiC1EAk48jInJdZ-tINreFD-JDBVr_Ds/s1600-h/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+005.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318666156340366354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEVg3Je6nHCQ6cn2rTD63LUjtDqPKUor87C9h32H0XOHhirTs6bDFi1D5YxTuPugmY4qd4V6NFkvlGWU7LGqN16lHf9sL9YqY-wzqeLmSTXHNiC1EAk48jInJdZ-tINreFD-JDBVr_Ds/s320/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+005.jpg" /></em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em> In each corner is a Lion of Yudah. On them are stitched our Hebrew names, place and date of marriage.<br /><br /></em></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiweWiJYvztxdGD7imSFuy94D6iursR1N6BPLwRJhWGF6iwZbnRiwfYRp8fDiEzDhILEZYNcwr3hrqV0Z4Iyj_4ZaIyEmX6wzoeZko8PaXrmHbDOzICKB6BZGi-1NzwwahSiYZYCB0lYM/s1600-h/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318666141621235522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiweWiJYvztxdGD7imSFuy94D6iursR1N6BPLwRJhWGF6iwZbnRiwfYRp8fDiEzDhILEZYNcwr3hrqV0Z4Iyj_4ZaIyEmX6wzoeZko8PaXrmHbDOzICKB6BZGi-1NzwwahSiYZYCB0lYM/s320/Preparing+for+a+Reel+Wedding+001.jpg" /></em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em> Mark's Prayer Shawl. Made of Gold ribbons that denotes he will be the priest of our home. My love gift to my bridegroom.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>So with the date (August) the Place (Beth Messiah) the Theme (High Priest Marriage to the Daughter of the High Priest) and wedding party (Sarah, brides maids, our sisters and my namesake as flower girl, four Huppah holders and two bestmen) flowers ordered,decorator in place, we began the work of the Huppah and Mark's wedding attire.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Any couple that can survive their wedding plans are sure to have awonderful life together.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>I could "see" how the Huppah would look, but examing it to Mark was another matter. After, who doesn't understand "this big and this long???"</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>A man who needs measurements.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Details, details.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>So, I began went through my sewing box and after blowing off the dust, handed Mark my measuring tape.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>"You sew and you don't us a measuring tape?"</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Go figure!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>We went to up to the spot where the Huppah would be posted and Mark took measurements of the stage, based on where the posts should rest. This way I had a picture in my head of how it would be placed and Mark had his measuremnents for the materials.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>We found two lovley pieces of linen; one for the Huppah and the other for his Prayer Shawel. We had to go to all five Michael in our area for find enough royal red, blue, purple and gold ribbons. The silver bells and Stars of David were at a ScrapeBook store.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>In each corner was a cross-stitched Lion of Yudah. Mark, who cross-stitches also did two and I did the other two.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>This was the beginning of our learning to work, learning each other's languge and creating our own.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>And then it happen:</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Family drama.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Fact is: the birthing of a blessed union, a man and woman leaving their homes and becoming one is no mean feat. There is bound to be fireworks and flairups.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>And we were no exception.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>We thought since we were paying for our wedding, planning and doing the work, there should be no problems within the families.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Yeah. Right.</em></strong></span></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-63265805146162321562009-02-05T14:35:00.000-08:002009-02-05T14:49:32.521-08:00The Theme<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Life has been crazy, but I am finally getting back to this jounral:</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Every wedding has a theme. Even if is a simple, imformal affair, it reflects the couple and their relationship.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>I had dreamed of a Jewish wedding for years; the making of my own Huppah and prayer shawel for my beloved. A veiling, the breaking of the glass. I also knew I wanted the Banners and dancers.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>During the time of our courntship and engagement, we were studying the Book of Revelation. The Theme is the marriage of the High Priest (Yeshua) to the daughter of the High Priest (Believers) it is a royal wedding. Since as believers, we are a "royal priesthood" I took the idea and ran with it. Thus the idea of a Garden wedding, liken to the returning to the Garden of Eden.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>I was thinking small, but Mark said he knew my heart and wanted me to have the wedding of my dreams.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>And I did.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>The colours were ivory and lavender. The plan was for Mark's buddy Sam (they served in Iraq together) to be bestman and my namesake, Little Elana to be my Flowergirl. Nice and simple.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Yeah, Right.</em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Since the Huppah would have to be held, we had to have Huppah holders. I wanted the Dancers and the Banners. And of course with a formal wedding gown, a wedding party.</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">So, with everything in place, we begin to work to make the wedding of our dreams come true.</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;">And also have a very wise Rabbi who reminded us that the Wedding is One day, the Marriage is a lifetime. Remember which is more important.</span></em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-44913017981165415912008-12-07T14:52:00.000-08:002008-12-07T15:05:17.961-08:00The Place<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Yes, I loved our Synagoguge. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>But it was in a word: ugly.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>It had been transformed from a Christian grade school and still had the look despite the objects of worship that grace the building.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>We looked at several places.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Mark didn't wish a garden wedding. He had been a best man in one and it rained that day. He was in his army blues. Wool.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Do you know what wool smells like when it is wet?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>So a garden wedding was out.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Or was it?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>We looked at several places. They either didn't fit who we were, or we would not be able to have pictures taken during the services. Many places do not allow pictures to be taken during the service. But our rabbi felt that the Spirit of G-d wasn't afraid of a light bulb. As long as the photograhper didn't draw attention to himself, no one had a problem.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>So, it was Beth Messiah that we would get married.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>But as I looked about, I begin to see that the ugly 'clemet blocks' could be viewed as a wall. A garden wall.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>So, we decided on lighted evergreen trees on either sider of the room, with a Arch draped with grapes in the back. This would give the feel of a walled Isreali Garden. I would have gone for a fountion, but it was on the pricey side.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-79759574731598105752008-11-27T15:48:00.000-08:002008-11-27T15:57:46.350-08:00You Look Like A Woman Loved<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>As we went about our wedding plans, an amazing thing happen.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>It was as if Mark recieved permission to express what was truly in his arm. Always the gentleman, Mark could now be found holding my hand, playing with my hair, or holding me in his arms. He said one of the nice things about holding me; I didn't pull away, but would just allow him to hold me. His lips would often brush against my cheek or forehead. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>And he allowed me to love him. He would rest his head upon my shoulder, alow me to rub his shoulder. He began open and laughed easy and often.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Between the Cancer and allowing love into his life, Mark was born anew.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>I remember one day while having lunch with a friend, she said to me, "you looked like a woman who is loved."</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>I smiled and nodded. "I am.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>We prayed together. Studied together. Worked on our wedding together and fought his cancer together.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>There were times I thought this was nothing more than a dream.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>But then I would look into thoses beautiful blue-green eyes and realize it was all real.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Mark loved me. And this summer, we would be married.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-16312524332712042332008-11-25T08:57:00.000-08:002009-03-29T10:39:31.610-07:00So The Reel Work Begins<strong>It is now March, 2005</strong><br /><strong>We have survied our first two weeks of our engagment. </strong><br /><strong>We had started talking about waht kind of wedding we wished, but also the hopes and dreams of our lives together.</strong><br /><strong>This included children. Mark was still going through Chemo and then there is this called my age. So Mark had asked if I would be willing to adopt a child, even if G-d willing we had our own. We both love children, so this was not a problem.<br />Since we had chosen our theme, for the wedding, we began to make plans.<br />I had been part of a Worship team before I came to Temple, so I wanted to include dance and Banners in our wedding. </strong><br /><strong>Mark, being Mililary, felt it would be cool if his best man wore his Army Blues. Since our backgound is Sephardic, we wanted to add much of that tradition to our service. And more importanty, we wanted people to see the Love that Messiah has for His Bride in our wedding. Just as one day Yeshua is coming for His bride for the Huppah He is preparing for us, so Mark and I wanted people to see G-d in our wedding.<br />So the first step; set a date.<br />August 26, 2005. I would have preferred June, but agreed to August.<br />Next, picked our wedding party. Mark's best friend Sam was chosen as Best Man and the little girl who prayed for "Mark to safty return to Laini," Elana would be my flower girl. We wanted the Huppah to be hand held so, we picked Tony, Josh, Paul and Buddy. They would serve as our witnesses.<br />Menu: MiddleEastern of course; Azar's<br />Sarah recommneded a florist.<br />I knew where to get the cake: Naa's<br />I had brought a beautiful, simple ivory dress I thought would be lovely, but since Mark wanted a formal wedding, Sarah and I set a date to visit David Bridal.<br />Rabbi Joe would of course perform the ceremony.</strong><br /><strong>The only problem was the place. Mark wanted at Beth Messiah. </strong><br /><strong>I didn't.</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-83347085907753676422008-11-24T19:01:00.000-08:002008-11-24T19:22:39.194-08:00Planning a Jewish Wedding Part 2: Tradition!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsZyK4z2jtB6mSYr4J3qFWiXoQT339f4MKRCmA0I1voiaU0ddGc8c-Pa3UHxAAY0rD0KLO1b5a_DKwgPcxLhC64VdqwsBp6iRP4bvniwVj7bcI6X3jiTrpd50SNn4CYrT0q6lLNxv9TQ/s1600-h/married-in-spain.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272429600639441554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsZyK4z2jtB6mSYr4J3qFWiXoQT339f4MKRCmA0I1voiaU0ddGc8c-Pa3UHxAAY0rD0KLO1b5a_DKwgPcxLhC64VdqwsBp6iRP4bvniwVj7bcI6X3jiTrpd50SNn4CYrT0q6lLNxv9TQ/s320/married-in-spain.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> A Jewish wedding in Spain....<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq-nA0GpKueGPOmtWhmSIpBtQl4ayNK-1gHwUKetgusvl0siKR3M69kWzqXeSDRltKb5A6rv45AtFnBvx8lrTbyvcz6gQozUsN8rk11ri5m4T76_vwkL_GhAY5ACyxuonTL_ffjWYF9g/s1600-h/juedische_hochzeit_marokko_hi.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272429599065363298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq-nA0GpKueGPOmtWhmSIpBtQl4ayNK-1gHwUKetgusvl0siKR3M69kWzqXeSDRltKb5A6rv45AtFnBvx8lrTbyvcz6gQozUsN8rk11ri5m4T76_vwkL_GhAY5ACyxuonTL_ffjWYF9g/s320/juedische_hochzeit_marokko_hi.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> An Moroccan Jewish wedding.....<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiN-en-Rq__sgfzNZqAoSZ8TsBHdlPPxR_2s4BhWtH3c9AeC9RdBnJeiQw2P7jxKlKBEflvpoGNwzFFPBmTLeJ1tLoeAOizz3cmyQSXgjlMbYpu9bEPJtQUYYwpbgyrFup9qWgb84B1Q/s1600-h/yentl.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272429597839711874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiN-en-Rq__sgfzNZqAoSZ8TsBHdlPPxR_2s4BhWtH3c9AeC9RdBnJeiQw2P7jxKlKBEflvpoGNwzFFPBmTLeJ1tLoeAOizz3cmyQSXgjlMbYpu9bEPJtQUYYwpbgyrFup9qWgb84B1Q/s320/yentl.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> From Yentli.....<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3VOGSYiaN7J6bznNprW_8F5T_2FozdLOuwpq8kG9eLDjPW-LioJivpvWNugkfErL6n-NzEZE9II5-_hbP0sViAukOlJCLXOAxXv9X17p9u_O5_9dsCq_6Mq19EnLjCOi_Q4wkHj6UyQ/s1600-h/554_fiddler2.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272429595369654946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3VOGSYiaN7J6bznNprW_8F5T_2FozdLOuwpq8kG9eLDjPW-LioJivpvWNugkfErL6n-NzEZE9II5-_hbP0sViAukOlJCLXOAxXv9X17p9u_O5_9dsCq_6Mq19EnLjCOi_Q4wkHj6UyQ/s320/554_fiddler2.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> From Fiddler on The Roof...<br />When we think of Jewish weddings, movies such as Yenti and Fiddler On the Roof , often come to mind.<br />But there is no such thing as a 'traditional Jewish Wedding."<br /></strong></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Yes, we have wonderful, beautiful traditions that makes our wedding beautiful and spiritual. But each wedding also reflects the style, taste and spirit of each couple being married.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>There are different traditions between the Ashkenazic (Fiddler on the Roof comes to mind) and Sephardic Jews , which takes on a Middle East, Mediterranean, North African flavor.<br />I have attended a Jewish wedding that was a military wedding and one at the beach. I also knew a couple that blended their culture of Jewish and Hindu.<br />Every wedding should-no must! be an expression of the couple. It reveals not only their faith, but who they are as a couple and taste of what their lives may be like.<br />During the time of our engagement, Rabbi Joe was teaching on the Book of Revelation. It is the Wedding of The High Priest (Yeshua) to the daughter of the High Priest (we the community of believers). This gave Mark and I the Theme of our Wedding; A Royal Wedding.</strong></span></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-16893265078912004152008-11-24T18:44:00.001-08:002008-11-24T19:00:00.409-08:00Planning A Jewish Wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1PiQujT8022Vx32vYnO5yxi2sGWssewa0Quu6X-R-U2Pcov7jkrJGi14vKfdbdJzPUS5diXITV7TNMP4VDwE60aHodmjJkPsxWKbCogbVlp-4wVlrvurAFTRkrpvQJVYHCK6L-OuVu8/s1600-h/642px-Isra%25C3%25ABls-A_Jewish_Wedding-1903.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272424212520215330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1PiQujT8022Vx32vYnO5yxi2sGWssewa0Quu6X-R-U2Pcov7jkrJGi14vKfdbdJzPUS5diXITV7TNMP4VDwE60aHodmjJkPsxWKbCogbVlp-4wVlrvurAFTRkrpvQJVYHCK6L-OuVu8/s320/642px-Isra%25C3%25ABls-A_Jewish_Wedding-1903.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Funny how life is:</strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Mark had been so scared to marry me. Then when he found he had cancer, he told me that it helped him to see what was important. That I was the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with. No matter how long or short.</strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Now that he truly allowed himself to feel the love in his heart, there was no doubt that I was the woman of his heart.</strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>And he wanted our wedding to be his love gift to me: a celebration of our love.</strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Ahhh....<br />As we began to plan for our upcoming wedding and marriage, I was reminded of a verse from one my flavorite songs, All Night Long, By Lionel Richie.<br />"Life is good; it's wild and sweet."<br />That has my life with Mark has been like since I'd met him and that is what planning our wedding was like.<br />By the time Mark and I decided to wed, I had already knew what kind of wedding I wanted;</strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>A Jewish One. One that affirm our faith in Yeshua and sweet with the traditions of our Jewish faith.<br />It really began with a sermon I heard in 1995 (and I still have it) called Preparing for The Wedding Feast. Based on Matthew 25, it outlined Yeshua the Jewish Messiah returning one day for His Bride. It is a most beautiful teaching and frankly, you can only understand Matthew 25 is knowing the traditions of a Jewish Wedding.<br />In 1999, several things happen. </strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>One, our new Pastor began teaching on Convenat, including the Convenat of marriage. </strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Two, during a rehearal for a Passion Play, I slipped on a grape and broke my ankle, so I had plenty of bedrest that gave me time to catch up on prayer and study. </strong></span><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Three, several friends of my were getting married, two of them Messiniac Jews and I wanted to make something special for them. Since I was recovering from an broken ankle (another story) I had plenty of time to research the traditions of Jewish wedding and found a treasure chest of jewels. Taking what Pastor Nate was teaching on the Convenat and what I was learning, I made samples as wedding gifts that were Covenants.<br />For my Messianic friends, I made a Ketabuh, which is a Marriage Covenant. While it is often signed, I did my in cross-stitch and the Rabbi who perform the ceremony approved of it. So, it began part of the marriage ceremony.<br />The Ketubah is not spiritual, but legal document. It spells out the rights of the wife and the duites of the husband. In fact, that is why Shavuot is such a big deal. For this is the time we celebrate G-d "marrying Israel" the Torah is our "Ketubah. As believers in Yeshua, as His Bride, the Torah (The Bible) is our Ketubah, laying out Yeshua's love for us, that He will meet our needs. It contains all His promises to us. In a Jewish Wedding the husband gives the ket to his bride, thus confirming his promises to her. Yeshua gave us His Word. Do we accept it?<br />So by the time my ankle healed, I was able to dance at my friend's wedding. And I also knew if G-d did indeed mean for me to marry, I already had a pretty good idea what I wanted my wedding to look like.</span><br /><br /></strong></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-47934341959971906742008-11-24T18:25:00.000-08:002008-11-24T18:42:17.646-08:00The Ring<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Well, as you know by now, Mark did not have a change of heart. It was a big change in his life, a huge decision and of course the doubts would come. It was my own unfounded fears that was caused sleepless nights.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> There had been a Man's Retreat and I felt maybe Mark would have a long talk with Rabbi, come home and say "Laini, I can't do this."</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> I confess, that was the fear of my heart; that Mark would feel he had been pushed into something he really didn't wish to do. I always felt that they would be some one out there trying to talk him out of marrying me. Several weeks later, I would learn a few people did try.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>But Mark assured me that I had nothing to fear; it was me he loved, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.</strong></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z0M0Ge5a4qPqImC9RyMJPhKZLGG0bUdaQRsjrfadmkzwwA1NuBurICdruJoreoFxfymEBmz1V6tf7EgwrCNgnZ9eOk0ZXLnaPd_RMRspvcVdqU7wKlH_M6AKxNJREquwKJGC_uMfa1c/s1600-h/Picture+201.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272417261948421106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z0M0Ge5a4qPqImC9RyMJPhKZLGG0bUdaQRsjrfadmkzwwA1NuBurICdruJoreoFxfymEBmz1V6tf7EgwrCNgnZ9eOk0ZXLnaPd_RMRspvcVdqU7wKlH_M6AKxNJREquwKJGC_uMfa1c/s320/Picture+201.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> A friend of my from the Church I use to attend owns a jewelry store, so of course that is where I wanted to go get my ring. And off we went. I really don't care for the modern look, I prefer the more Victorican settings. That is sort what I had in mind. Mark had once worked in a Jewelry store, so he knew what to look out for. After a while, I spotted IT. A very simple, but eloquent, what is known as a european setting. It was one dimand (large of course) of the old gold and not the modern white gold. The funny thing is;</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> 1. Mark spotted the ring and asked if I liked it. Turns out, this would have been the very ring he would have chosen. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>2 as Mark would later say:"You would pickthe one that cost the most."</strong></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJh6MmuBFRLQZIM6yhg75SK5PFxYBJXwyk4sWcuWi43Nv6DyYvs4UrAnWS9Og5PfvhnI2720s89NlrtSC5c9k9fh5kBkyUZ0oN2eGiKlc9rcC4A-ZkT5j25PE6-Tib71GXhH6hdV7oMbQ/s1600-h/Picture+199.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272417255863674690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJh6MmuBFRLQZIM6yhg75SK5PFxYBJXwyk4sWcuWi43Nv6DyYvs4UrAnWS9Og5PfvhnI2720s89NlrtSC5c9k9fh5kBkyUZ0oN2eGiKlc9rcC4A-ZkT5j25PE6-Tib71GXhH6hdV7oMbQ/s320/Picture+199.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> As you can see, the Chemo was beginning to take its toll on Mark.<br /></strong></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjd0SPve2Vaa9gU7AVmhalN_HJBtBjfB-D4gbnqAxQjytJ6VLKdO3F5Gi8ZqUOks72ncNXVNYjk6GpwYT_TIpylyvk97jRPsUgpQCy_QQAfJLAMMjkIMjq2BTX7MN7umZdbl1EWKzXwKI/s1600-h/Picture+202.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272417252661419010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjd0SPve2Vaa9gU7AVmhalN_HJBtBjfB-D4gbnqAxQjytJ6VLKdO3F5Gi8ZqUOks72ncNXVNYjk6GpwYT_TIpylyvk97jRPsUgpQCy_QQAfJLAMMjkIMjq2BTX7MN7umZdbl1EWKzXwKI/s320/Picture+202.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> It is'n the best shot of my ring, but trust me, it is beautiful.<br />Our announcement went through arrange of emotions. From; "I didn't know you were even seeing anyone" to "well it's about time!" to "I thought you guys were already married; your so perfect together!"<br />I did fuss Mark for not telling Paul and Sarah sooner. She was alittle upset that she wasn't called straight away, but quickly got over it.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> What upset me the most was the family. One of Mark's sisters didn't even know Mark was engaged until she heard folks talking about my wedding dress. When she asked who was I marrying, she was told, "Your brother."</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> What a way to find out!</strong><br /></span></div><but class="">Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-38528121463313112242008-11-24T18:14:00.000-08:002008-11-24T18:24:50.612-08:00Who Are You And What Did You Do With My Markie?<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>From Feburary 14th, 2008:<br /> After Mark dropped me off from the dinner, I called my mum to tell her Mark and i were getting married. But we waited a few days before the announcement was made. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Mark had mid-terms that week and I wanted to wait for mark to tell his parents.<br />Frankly, I knew he was working up the nerve; they weren't going to take this bit of news well.</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>So the morning of Chemo, after Mark told his Dad, I called my mum and gave her the go ahead to to tell others. And I am sure the phone lines were burning because that was news she had been dying to hear and tell. Then, we told the staff. No big shock there either. Except for those who thought we were already married.<br /> The day after Chemo was Friday and as usual we got together to have Shabbath supper before we went to the Temple.<br />Mark started asking me is rapid form: what type of wedding did I wish, where did I want to go on a honeymoon, where did I want to live, how many children did I want.....<br />I just looked at him in shock. Who are you and what did you do with my Markie. The cold feet had totality defrost and I now had Groomzilla on my hands! <br />Amoung the questions was my engagement ring. Mark asked if I had any ideas or just trust him. I have always wanted to pick out my own ring, so it was decided I would go with him. But until then, I wore his class ring from West Point. But we had to put tape in the center because the ring was too big for my ring.<br />Friday night Mark went to tell Rabbi: "Rabbi! We did it! We are engaged!:Rabbi said "Mazol Tov! Did you tell Laini?"<br />For you see, Mark's announment sounded like he had told me we were getting married: it didn't sound like he had asked me.<br />One sister (who wasn't at the dinner) when I told we were engaged I had to catch before she fainted; she was ready to shout and start dancing in the aisles. I told her that Mark wanted to wait until the next morning to make the announcement.So, just before the end of the service, Mark made the announcement we were engaged.<br />Part of his statement was: "I always thought I would chose my wife; but G-d found her for me."<br />Now this goes against our western concept of love and marriage. In Biblical times and even now in observe homes, it was the parents that arranged their children's marriages. In our faith, just as G-d brought Adam to Adam (her name wasn't Eve then) so we trust G-d as our Abba to find and bring us our spouse. And since we both sought G-d as to who to marry, our Heavenly Abba brought us together. Yes, there were a few who thought Mark was saying; "G-d told me to marry this woman and he did."</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> Well, G-d did tell Mark I was the one for him. But G-d gives wonderful gifts. We ask His guidance for jobs, schools, cars. Why not the person your suppose to spend the rest of your life with? Why not pray for one of the most important descision in one's life?<br />I remember the look upon his face when he sat down. He was in shock. That "I set my course and I can't turn back" look.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>I was beginning to wonder if I should let him off the hook and give him back his class ring......</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-70249294245423026732008-11-20T10:04:00.000-08:002008-11-20T10:10:02.876-08:00It Rained That Too<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVrbsUsQsu-IL8OziDNFGAqn8ciGc3DZNvrimu0nJc0B3pXtfTL3ZnuPzQbFJICAUH1liqv4_1my0OtRGe2maJgl1upN_vWEEeEOCC3YmUXhJhT5algYxiO68Lnr51pqdhXrmWhE9HGM/s1600-h/Reel+Pictures+014.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270803372123074226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVrbsUsQsu-IL8OziDNFGAqn8ciGc3DZNvrimu0nJc0B3pXtfTL3ZnuPzQbFJICAUH1liqv4_1my0OtRGe2maJgl1upN_vWEEeEOCC3YmUXhJhT5algYxiO68Lnr51pqdhXrmWhE9HGM/s320/Reel+Pictures+014.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Picture of Mark and I, Blessing Dinner, 2006</span></strong><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>From 13th 2008<br />When: A Sunday.<br />The place: Beth Messiah Synagogue.<br />The Event: The Blessing Dinner.<br />For several years, the men of our Synagogue got together and made dinner for their wives, daughters, mums as well as the single, divorced or widowed women of the congregation. The Sunday chosest to Valentine's Day was picked. It was called Blessing Dinner to bless the women in the men's lives. It was a potluck meal where the men did the cooking. Roses and other flowers were brought for the evening. For woman who were Bat Mitzvah (over the age of 13) she would recieve a rose. Girls under 13 recieve another type of flower.<br />The men setup, serve the meal and clean up. After dinner, first the husbands, one by one would stand up and play tribute to their beloved and afterwards, represent her with a rose. The men would also pay tribute to their mums and daughters. Rabbi would give roses to the women who, for whatever reason, was without a mate. This way everyone recieved atleast one flower on Lovers Day.<br />Mark and I were courting at the time. For several weeks we had talked about marriage. And Mark by his own admission suffered from a serve case of cold feet.<br />We were suppose to meet earlier in the day, do a little shopping and then I woud dress at his apartment.<br />But he forgot and was several hours late. We exchanged words and almost did not go to the dinner.<br />But we went to his apartment so I could change. I wore a studding midnight black dress that had ripples at the hem and moved every time I did. I took my braids out and let my wavey hair fall down my back and laced in it little hairpins with pearls and dimands. I was looking good.<br />Mark looked up when I walked out and then looked back into his book! My heart sank. He then stood up, placed his hands on my shoulders and asked; "excuse me, who are you and what have you done with my Laini?" That made me smile. He really did notice. According to Mark; "she looked gooooood!"<br />Like tonight, it was pouring down rain and since I was wearing heeds I wasn't use to, I had to hold onto Mark's arm.<br />Heads turned when I walked in. While most were used to seeing me dress for the services, no one had seem me dressed to the nines.<br />Until tonight.<br />After the meal, Mark wondered out loud: "I wonder what I am going to say about you."I said: "Just ask the Holy Spirit. And the words will then come."<br />He did and they did.<br />At one point I notice Mark had left the table we were sharing with friends. I thought he had gone to the bathroom. And then I heard his voice. Up front. Now you have to understand, Mark didn't wait until all of the husband had spoken, but picked up and rose and began to tell everyone how I had prayed for him, cared for him, how I supported him while he was in Iraq and now during his cancer treatment. That G-d had truly blessed him when He brought me into his life. He spoke of his love for me and said everything but; "will you marry me?" He then came over and handed me the rose. He asked if I liked what he said. I told him; "I love every word, and you have no idea what you just did.""What did I just do?""You just asked me to marry you in front of almost 130 people."<br />It took a few moments, but when Rabbi asked: "you didn't see that coming did you?" Mark realized what he had done. To say the room was abuzz was an understatement.<br />On the way home we talked about what he had done. And when he came to a red light, Mark turned to me and said; "well, you want to set a date?"And that is how is all began. </strong></span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Three years ago tonight. Around 7:00pm.</span> </strong></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-85452185412321134722008-11-20T09:59:00.000-08:002008-11-20T10:00:50.723-08:00The Moment Of Truth<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>I would learn later that others had been pressing Mark about his relationship with me. He would say "we're friends."<br />I remember one day Rabbi quoting something I had to Mark. "Mark talks a lot about you." He stated.<br />It was clear to most who knew us that Mark loved me, but that he was also afraid of marrying me.<br />Or anyone esle for that matter.<br />One Shabbath I remember a story the Rabbi told. There was a man who loved a woman, but had cold feet. He could not bring himself to marry her. It was also feared that when he finally decided to wed, he would leave town before the wedding.<br />So, the Rabbi and the elders of the commuity decicded that the couple should marry on Shabbath. We don't do weddings on Shabbath (no work) since he would not be able to travel, he would have to go through the wedding. So the wedding went off and they lived to have a long, happy life.<br />I was sitting there thinking as I listening to this story: Mark would be the second groom married on Shabbath.<br />Funny; Rabbi thought the same thing.<br />One afternoon we went out to lunch. Mark told me: "I love you very much, but I must tell you Laini; I have cold feet!" Laater that evening, we went to a concert and a friend stopped to tell me: "Laini! G-d really has me praying for your husband!" Knowing Mark was close, I told her to keep praying.<br />I said: "I know you have cold, you have cold feet. All G-d's Children know you have cold feet. We are praying for those cold feet."<br />A few days later, we threw a small birthday party for my mum. She had a great time.<br />I had set the date; if Mark didn't ask me to marry him by the 14th , I was gone. I would continue being his caregiver, but when the cancer treatment was over, so was the relationship. It was a hard decicion and I would need G-d's strenght to see it through.But then, Feburany 13th, it all changed.....</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-15281052924751670512008-11-20T09:51:00.000-08:002008-11-20T09:58:00.585-08:00Mark Gets Honest<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>He did. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>It was that night that Mark got honest, with himself and with me. I could hear the pain in his voice as he remembered. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>A memory he had to let go.<br />I say; "but I'm not...."<br />"I know," Mark answered.<br />What shocked was his next statement; he never thought anyone would ever love him, that he wasn't worth of being loved. And that knowing that I truly card for him both delighted him and frighten him. For he didn't know how to handle it.<br />I told Mark you don't handle love; you just accept it.<br />I saw a new light come into Mark' s eyes that night.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> I smiled. Mark knew i loved him and he was willing to accept it. And that moment, Mark took me in his arms and held me for a long time.<br />I could feel his heart opening up to me, receiving my love. And loving me back.<br />AmberJade (a reader) asked why didn't I kick Mark to the curb sooner. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Simple. What stood before me was a tall, big man with a sweet face and gentle spirit. A strong person. But I could also see his soul: G-d showed me his soul and it would take some time and love-my love to heal it.<br />And in doing so, Mark's faith and encouragement gave me the courage try things I never would, to step from out of the shadows and even risk loving another person.<br />This is how G-d loves us. He doesn't 'kick us to the curb' when we don't respond to His love the first 50 times He reaches out to us. Yes, there comes a moment where we need to face the fact we might have to cut our loses. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>But knowing the things Mark had gone through, dealing with coming home from Iraq only to find he had cancer and had to fight to get his health benefits, wanting to marry me and yet not sure if he could not only support me, but live long enough to even marry me.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong> Plus, let's be real; ours isn't your normal relationship. His family was still having a hard time understanding this Messianic Jewish stuff and being in love with a Jewish lady of colour who is older than he wasn't helping.<br />Whatever normal is.<br />While Mark worked all of this out in his soul, I prayed, asking G-d to give me the patience to wait.<br />Unbeknown to me, others were beginning to speak to Mark as well.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-57447449976150123432008-11-19T18:44:00.000-08:002009-03-31T05:57:11.419-07:00Purity Ring and Remaining Tidy Part 2<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I have a funny feeling that my Poodle ring got lost in the move to the new apartment. Maybe it is for the best; letting go fully of the past.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">received</span> a few e-mails about the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Purity</span> Ring. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Mostly good.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Can we be sure if our teens remain tidy? I think it boils down to with one: how you raised them.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">two: do you trust them.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"> three: do you practice what you preach.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I know friends who have wore the Purity Ring and remain virgins until their wedding nights. I trust them enough to believe this to be true. And then there are those like myself who chose after being sexuality for moral and biblical reasons to remain <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">celibate</span> until we are married.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">It is not an easy choice, not one everyone would chose or understand. One some would even call this way of thinking insane or extreme. That as a Modern woman, I need to "get busy." But it is the choice we made.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">And I have never regretted it.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">This evening, my husband and I were asked to share about our courtship with a group of teenagers. We did not have to say "do as we say, and not as we do," because we chose to wait. Later, I would recieve a call from one of the teen's mums. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">She</span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"> asked her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">parents</span> for a Purity ring.</span></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-84930224118787551712008-10-22T19:49:00.000-07:002008-10-22T19:55:56.842-07:00Miracles<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilh38aXYDgRM_JM0ZiwD7dKZ_SnYMdLLexv2sMma_7vz71190sfSeEF7tuD3doWvjeIzpjEObeHi4DXW4m7XSenYlgq9UnVYk3aY0ohscmfOcFFh_BcnWJJnikBCE6-qNIlJB7LT0RnwU/s1600-h/indbless.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260177595588306146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilh38aXYDgRM_JM0ZiwD7dKZ_SnYMdLLexv2sMma_7vz71190sfSeEF7tuD3doWvjeIzpjEObeHi4DXW4m7XSenYlgq9UnVYk3aY0ohscmfOcFFh_BcnWJJnikBCE6-qNIlJB7LT0RnwU/s400/indbless.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>If we were to walk in the woods and a spring appeared just when we became thirsty, we would call it a miracle. And if on a second walk, if we became thirsty at just that point again, and again the spring appeared, we would remark on the coincidence. But if that spring were there always, we would take it for granted and cease to notice it. Yet is that not more miraculous still?- </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>Baal Shem Tov</strong></span></div><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><em>How often we go about looking for miracles, when they are right in front of us.</em></span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><em>It was one of the lessions both Mark and I had to learn during this growing time.</em></span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><em>I often spoke of this being a dark time in our lives.</em></span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><em>But that is when growth takes place. Babies grow in the darkness of the womb. Fruit trees grow during the winter, the winds banging againt the trees cause the sap to thicken and the fruit is larger and sweeter.</em></span></strong></p><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><em>And that is what happen began to happen in our beings, our lives and in our relationship.</em></span></strong></p><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-17516190539021777252008-10-15T06:33:00.000-07:002008-10-15T06:35:07.832-07:00The Fear of My Heart<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>The Fear in My Heart<br /></em></strong></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDZcqBgCS74&feature=related"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDZcqBgCS74&feature=related</em></strong></span></a><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>People tell me all the time that I am a strong woman. But the fear of rejection ran deep. I loved Mark and knew he loved me, but fear ruled my heart. I would however, learn one December evening, just before our families met that Mark too had that same fear.<br />It seem that there was another woman, one he loved. In 1998, Mark had a car accident that not only almost took his left leg, but his life. It was while h was in hosptial, that he learned why she hadn't come to see him or atleast call. She was seeing someone else. And when he needed her most, she wasn't there. And Mark had guraded his heart ever since.<br />I told him I was paying for someone else's sins. I wasn't the one who left. I have been here all of the time. I have been here during his deployment to Iraq and now as he battles Cancer. My name isn't....<br />I remember one evening we had a fight and I was about to leave when he said: "what makes you think I would let you just walk out that door."<br />"Then give me a reason to stay!"<br />I added the video above because that is how I felt the whole time. How I long to say I Love You. But the fear of rejection was just too strong.<br />So I had to let my actions speak for me.</em></strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-28290522873423448912008-10-15T06:30:00.000-07:002008-10-15T06:32:30.106-07:00Purity Ring and Remaining Tidy<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>Purity Ring and Remaining Tidy<br /></em></strong></span><a title="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purity_ring" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purity_ring"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>purity ring</em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em><br />Purity Rings. Given to teen girls around their 14-to 16 birthdays. A reminder that their bodies are precious and holy, not to be given away lightly and just to anyone for the asking. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>A Pastor I know gave plain gold bands to his sons as well. This summer, his eldest daughter and son were married, each having waited until they were wed.<br />There are even Purity Balls. Where parnets give their daughters (and some cases, sons) rings to remind them of the fact their body is precious and not to be treated like a plaything.<br />Yes, the media tends to tell us the stories of those who did not keep the vow.<br />But you don't hear the stories of those who do wait for the One G-d has for them.<br />I am a firm believer in the Torah; sex is for the man and woman who has stood before G-d and Man, entering into the Holy Covnenat of marriage. Yes, I am aware that this is an old fashion notion, but the 'new morality' is still the 'old immorality' that G-d condenms.<br />After my divorce and I had returned to G-d, I vowed to remain pure until G-d send me the husband of His choicing. I also had a son who watching me closely. And I was mindful that this little person was what I both say and do. My son didn't see me with "boyfriends" men coming in and out of my bedroom. In order to show how holy the Marriage bed is, I had to treat sex and marriage as holy. We as parnets are our children's first teachers.<br />And that includes family issuses.<br /> About this time I heard of the Purity Ring. I even knew many young women who's parnets gave them one on their 16th birthday. One of them was my Matron of Honour and her now husband.<br />The Purity Ring is the result of a vow one has made to remain a virgin until marriage.<br />In 1999, I dreamt of a beautiful, tall ice-blue poodle, being held on a lead by the L-rd Himself. The love that proved out of His eyes for this do. I awoke, realizing I was the poodle.<br />But Blue?<br />I told a friend about the dream and he laughed. He told that his mother owned a Standard size Ice Blue Poodle. Jerry said: "Do you know how rare those Poodles are? G-d is telling you how precious you are to Him."<br />A few days later, while at the mall, I passed by a Jewel Cart. And there it was! An ice-blue poodle ring!<br />The lady told me that this ring has sat on the tray for weeks. I was the only person who showed any interest in the ring, so she sold it to me for half price!<br />This became my Purity Ring. I would wear this ring as a reminder to remain tidy until if and when I married. Then and only then would I remove the Poodle Ring for an engagement ring.<br />To many this sounds strange, unrealistic. But when I chose to become a believer and follower of the Messiah, that meant obeying ALL of His Commandments. And sex outside the Convenat of marriage is a sin. Not my idea, G-d's.<br />And while I cannot speak for anyone else, this is the path I chose to walk.<br />Yes, it was hard; after all sex does feel good. But until G-d brought me my spouse, I forcus on my relationship to G-d, growing as a person and took a lot of showers.<br />But oh how wonderful G-d is! For during our courtship, I would learn Mark made the same vow, to wait for G-d's choice of a wife.<br />Ain't G-d good!<br />Sadly, I no longer have that ring. After Mark gave me my engagement ring, I lost it somewhere in my old townhouse and never found it.<br />Even after all these years, I still hope that Poodle ring will show up. I would love to give it to a daughter, if G-d blesses us with one.</em></strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3369009850034436247.post-2860223726179653282008-10-15T06:25:00.000-07:002008-10-15T06:30:14.682-07:00Shavuot Celebrating the Marriage between God and the Jewish People,<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em>From 7th, June 2008<br />G-d is a Romanctic. Love and Marriage is His idea.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><strong><em> Mark and I love this Holy Day. Part of the customs is the enjoying of dairy products.<br />Mark and I share a slice of New York Cheese Cake and a glass of wine. Our hope one day is when we have our own home, we shall raise our Huppah as part of our Shavuot celebration.<br />Shavuot is 9th June. I hope that in Iraq, there is some Cheese Cake for Mark to enjoy the day with. Me? I know Mark would wish me to have a slice of New York Cheese Cake and think of him.</em></strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03242354503126154979noreply@blogger.com0