Jeanie Jacobson, Writer
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Kicking Cancer to the Curb!

9/28/2022

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In June 2021 I received a Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma diagnosis. Yikes! But so many people have helped me along the way that I want to pass along the encouragement and love.
From funny to frustrating to all out embarrassing, I'll share what happens behind-the-scenes in non-traditonal cancer treatments.

Here's the first update I posted on the GoFundMe page that my baby sister Marianne and daughter Patty set up.

And please know, if you're going through a difficult stretch, you aren't alone.

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November 10, 2021
I resembled a pin-cushion after 2 days of blood draws and a vitamin C infusion. LOL! The pre-treatment tests are necessary for the oncology team to determine my care plan, and I'm grateful.
A huge "thank you" to you all for your support!
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Back from (Cancer) Hiatus!

8/7/2022

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In June 2021 I received a cancer diagnosis: Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Blech! But so many people have helped me along the way. To pass along the encouragement and love, I'll post updates from the GoFundMe page that my baby sister Marianne and daughter Patty set up. Please know, if you're going through a difficult stretch, you aren't alone.

From funny to frustrating to all out embarrassing, I'll share what happens behind-the-scenes in non-traditonal cancer treatments.

Marianne initially wrote:
Jeanie J. at The Grain Bin, Iowa
Two sisters finding each other after 1/2 century apart.Marianne and Jeanie--rejoicing after decades apart!
On August 3, 2016, after forty years of searching for my birth family, I hugged my sister for the first time ever. It was exhilarating!
 
To say we hit it off is an understatement. I've gained a best friend who I talk with daily, travel to see as often as possible, and love more than I can express.






On Jun 15, 2021, Jeanie's physician notified her that the lump they biopsied was cancerous. She has Non-Hodgins Lymphoma.
 
That began a whirlwind of medical appointments: Oncology, PET scan, bone marrow biopsy, blood draws, urinalysis, etc.
 
Because she's eliminated synthetic meds over the years, we quickly learned her body can’t even tolerate simple over-the-counter medications, let alone traditional chemotherapy. A routine bone marrow biopsy landed her in the ER.
 
Thankfully, after countless hours of searching for alternative therapies, we found a clinic that fits the bill! Their treatments include specialized approaches to chemo & integrative medical protocols. It’s Jeanie’s best bet for recovery. In a few short weeks, she'll leave to begin the fight of her life.
 
While we're thrilled to find a place that offers the treatments she immediately needs, we need help.  Because insurance does not cover the cost, she and her husband have taken out a loan against their home, but it’s not enough.

Jeanie J and grandson sitting in tree
Jeanie and beloved grandson hanging out in the backyard tree.
After over half a century apart, I can’t bear to lose my big sister, my best friend.
 
We are seeking donations in any amount to help Jeanie with her fight. Your donations will immediately be used to cover:
 
-Medical expenses for the facility, An Oasis of Healing in Mesa, AZ
-Housing, food & supplements during her 6 week stay
-Transportation to and from the clinic
-Follow-up treatments and care

In the five years I’ve known her, Jeanie has selflessly poured her time and talents into her community, and now it's our time to band together and help her. We graciously thank you in advance for any amount you're able to donate, and for spreading the word to reach everyone you can.

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Marianne and Jeanie's first Christmas together.
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What Goes Up

5/2/2021

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Sometimes we need laughter to redirect our brains from the seriousness of our situations. Chicken Soup for the Soul's newest release, Read, Laugh, Repeat, had me literally laughing out loud.

My story, "What Goes Up" in included in this hilarious book. Here's a peek:

“Grandma, watch this!”

Our ten-year-old grandson scrambled up our backyard maple tree like King Kong scaling the Empire State building. He stood on a limb, grabbed the one above him, and bounced. Hapless young leaves dropped under his onslaught as the branch bobbed up and down.

My breath caught in my throat, a regular occurrence for a grandparent of an active boy. “Asher, be careful. You haven’t broken any bones yet. Let’s keep it that way.”
He stopped bouncing and plopped onto the limb. My lungs resumed their normal rhythm. “Grandma,” he called in a cajoling tone, “Climb up with me. Please.”

I eyed the old tree. Asher and I considered it our private fortress, but the branch I normally used to boost myself up had broken off in a recent storm. Getting into that tree would take more upper arm strength than I possessed. “Honey, I don’t think I can climb up there anymore.”

Asher’s eyes widened as if I’d uttered a blasphemy. “But Grandma, it’s our special place. You have to try.” His stricken look prompted me to grab a branch. An oversized gorilla hoisting me up would have been more helpful than Asher’s verbal assistance. “Pull harder, Grandma. Boy, you should really start working out. You’re getting pretty weak.”

After multiple tries I hefted myself onto the lowest limb and lay panting against the rough bark. Slow maneuvering brought me to a sitting position.
“See Grandma, I knew you could get up here.” Asher grinned and scooted next to me. We sat together on the branch, our feet dangling. A cool May breeze held the insects at bay as Asher told me about his school day.

I silently thanked God for the opportunity to spend time with this beloved grandson. My husband Jake and I relished our time with him. We’d forged a special bond over the years with this child, so dear to our hearts.
As sunset streaked the sky the breeze died down and mosquitoes began foraging for victims. “OK Sweetie, let’s go in. Your grandpa will be home soon.”

Asher shimmied down the trunk like a competitor in a lumberjack competition. I swung my leg lower, feeling for the limb I always used to descend. “Be careful Grandma. Your climb-down branch is gone, remember?”
I surveyed the hard surface below. The new river rock and brick landscape edging mocked me. Several dismount attempts brought one conclusion. I couldn’t get myself down safely.

“Hurry up, Grandma.” Asher bounced on the patio.
“Sweetie, I’m having trouble getting down.”
Asher stopped jumping and peered up at me. “Grandma, are you stuck in the tree?”
The knobby bark bit into my protesting backside. I cautiously shifted my weight on the branch. “I don’t want you to worry, but . . .”
“Are you REALLY stuck?”
“Yes Asher, I’m really stuck.”
His eyes gleamed with excitement. “Can I call 911?” he asked hopefully.
“No, not 911. Call your grandpa.”

Asher ran inside for the phone. A tiny gnat, the size of a pin head, landed on my arm. I jerked at its needle-jab sting, then fought to keep my balance. A red, dime-sized welt appeared where the gnat stung me. I swatted away another Mutant Robo-Gnat that was dive-bombing my face.
Asher ran back, waving the phone like a prize. “Are you sure I can’t call 911?” he asked again, anticipation written in his countenance. I could see his mental wheels turning. A firetruck or two, perhaps a rescue squad on stand-by would perk up a weekday. And make a great story at school.

“Dial your grandpa and put him on speaker,” I commanded.
Jake answered on the second ring. “Grandma’s stuck in a tree,” Asher announced cheerfully.
“What?”
I rolled my eyes and swatted another gnat.
“Grandma told me to call because she’s stuck in a tree.”
I heard a long pause before my husband asked, “Is Grandma really stuck in a tree?”
“Yeah, and she wants you to come home and help her down,” Asher enthused.
Jake’s hysterical laughter flowed through the phone line.
“You’re on speaker. I can hear you,” I shouted from my perch. ”Now stop cackling, come home, and get me down.”
Between bouts of laughter Jake said, “Tell Grandma to hang on. I’ll be there soon.”

“Ok, bye Gramps. I’ll take care of things until you get home.” Asher laid the house phone on the patio table and ran back inside. I smashed a Robo-Gnat attacking my leg as Asher burst through the patio door, his new cell phone in hand. “My grandmother is stuck in a tree,” he said in his best news announcer voice.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked.
“Nobody, Grandma.”

Asher resumed his spiel, “My grandmother is stuck in the tree. She can’t get down. Grandma, would like to say a few words?”

The splintery wood dug into my palms. I tamped down exasperation. “Say a few words to who? Who are you talking to?”
“I’m not talking to anyone. I’m recording you. See?”


He flipped the phone around and held it up for me to view. Sure enough, a video played on-screen. A middle-aged woman wearing silver loafers, dark washed jeans, and an exasperated glare hunched in a maple.
“Give me that!” I make a feeble swipe at the upheld phone. Asher pulled it back and tapped buttons furiously. I wobbled on the branch before regaining my balance. Asher peered up at me through the deepening twilight. “Be careful! You almost fell. Grandma, are you really, truly stuck?”

My heart softened at his evident concern. “Yes Sweetie, but I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” he said, “I just posted this online. The video already has two ‘likes.’ You’ve gone worldwide.”




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Judge Slow, Love Quick

11/14/2020

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Josh Wilson's song "Revolutionary" keeps spinning in my head.
Here's are the lyrics, in part:

Maybe you're not like me
Maybe we don't agree
Maybe that doesn't mean
We gotta be enemies


Maybe we just get brave
Take a big leap of faith
Call a truce so me and you
Can find a better way


Let's take some time, open our eyes, look and listen,
And we're gonna find we're more alike than we are different,

Why does kindness seem revolutionary?
When did we let hate get so ordinary?

Let's turn it around, flip the script
Judge slow, love quick
God help us get revolutionary.

I'm turning the TV down
Drowning their voices out
'Cause I believe that you and me
Can find some common ground


See maybe I'm not like you
But I'll walk a mile in your shoes
If it means I might see
The world the way you do

What would Jesus do?
He would love first

Yeah, He would love first
So we should love first...


This is one of the most divisive times in US history. But those lyrics remind me to respond in love.

Love doesn't mean we necessarily agree with another person's point of view.
It does mean we show that person respect and compassion.


When asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. Matthew 22:36-39

What would happen if we stood firm on our convictions, yet loved like Jesus loves?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:43-44


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6glQdaQUZ1U
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10 Second Needs vs. Wants Quiz

8/25/2020

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Which is a need, which is a want? Take this highly scientific 10 second quiz to discover the answer!

Q) Which of the following is a need?
A) "My arm is broken. I need to go to the hospital."
B) "My outfits are lame. I need to go to the mall." 

If you chose A, congratulations. You identified the need.
(Insider's note: both are actual quotes from a twelve-year-old family member.)
My want list contains things like a unicorn, and a personal chef who turns chocolate desserts into a low calorie health food. But my needs list includes asking my husband to help with dinner so we don't wind up in the ER from my cooking.
(Insiders note: my grandson swears I killed a squirrel who ate the burnt eggplant I'd set outside.)
Picture four layer chocolate & yellow cake with white tea set in background.
So what do you need help with? Work projects? School? Child care? Cooking? Cleaning? Tending sick friends or elderly relatives? 
Be proactive. Seek help from family, friends, neighbors, your church family, and coworkers. Sometimes a small break can make a major difference. Maybe you need a meal delivered, or a few hours without the children. Maybe you need a tutor, or a night out with friends or your spouse. Although that might be a picnic instead of dinner at an exclusive restaurant.
(Insiders note: my husband would rather eat my lethal burnt eggplant than dine in a fine restaurant.)
We live in a constantly changing "new normal" with Covid-19, social unrest, and economic uncertainty. People have contended with plagues, fires, famines, political machinations, and wars for centuries. An ancient book offers advice to deal with it:

"Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done." Phil 4:6 NLT

Which lines up with 1 Peter 5:7, "Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you."
So, I might want to worry. but I need to pray. 


What new--or old--methods are you using to meet your needs and those of others?
By the way, if anyone wants or needs burnt eggplant, I'll gladly share my portion.
(Insider's note: I actually burned the green beans while writing this blog. But I left the smoky pan inside this time to prevent squirrel deaths.)


Photo courtesy Apolonia@freedigitalphotos.net
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Who Cloned my Dog?

7/14/2020

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Chicken Soup for the Soul's newest release, "The Magic of Dogs" goes on sale today.
The book contains 101 stories about our canine friends. Some hilarious. Some heartwarming.

I think mine, "Tundra's Clone," carries a bit of both. But you be the judge.

“Sheesh Dad, she’s bawlin’ again.”
Patty’s voice echoed down the hall into our master bedroom. My Super Mom Radar detected a patented eye-roll accompanying our sixth-grader’s words.
I rested my forehead against the cold window glass and stared at the weathered wooden cross in our backyard. A memorial for my dog Tundra, my constant companion.
I closed my eyes and pictured the companion who’d spent so many years by my side.

Golden fur.
Alert ears.
Smiling muzzle.
Wise brown eyes shining with love.

My husband Jake walked into the room and pulled me into his arms. “Honey, I’m sorry you’re hurting, but Tundra died last year. Maybe we should get a new dog.”
I jerked back and wailed like a two year old throwing a grocery store tantrum. “No dog could ever replace Tundra.”
Patty tip-toed into the room holding out a tissue box like a shield. “Mom, I miss Tundra too, but maybe looking at puppies will make us feel better.”

Despite my protests, we drove to our local Humane Society. Inside the florescent-lit room a barking chorus blasted our ears, a veritable Mastiff Tabernacle Choir.
A jeans-clad volunteer waved hello as she scrubbed the chain link kennels lining the long room. The scent of damp fur and fresh doggie poo competed with her pungent disinfectant.

Patty dashed from one canine resident to the next. A monstrously large Akita, roughly the size of Jupiter, sucked my tall, weight-lifter husband into its gravitational pull. “Hey honey, the tag says he came from Japan.” Jake reached into the cage and petted the mutant beast.

I forced a smile, but my heart ached for my precious Tundra. To hide my rising tears I walked to the end of the row.

There she stood.
My Tundra’s clone. In miniature.

Same golden fur.
Same alert ears.
Same smiling muzzle.
Same wise brown eyes shining with love.

“Lord, am I losing my mind?” I whispered.
Tundra’s tiny double pawed the kennel door as I knelt down. The force of her wagging tail shook her entire body. I knew this wasn’t my dog. Still, I couldn’t help whispering, “Tundra?”
The pup transformed into a bundle of canine craziness. Jumping, spinning, barking--the epitome of puppy joy.
Jake hurried over to see the commotion. His eyes widened. “Holy smoke, it’s Tundra. Pint sized.”
Patty ran over and screeched to a stop. “It’s a tiny Tundra!” She squatted next to me and gawked at Tundra’s replica.


Picture of book cover: Chicken Soup for the Soul Magic of Dogs
The kennel attendant walked over, smiling. “Hi, I’m Francis. I’ll bring her out.”
She grabbed a leash and opened the kennel door. I crouched down and the Tundra clone raced into my outstretched arms. A second later I sat on the chilly concrete floor with the exuberant puppy commandeering my lap.
Jake watched the pup lick tears from my grinning face. My husband cast a longing glance at the planet-sized Akita, sighed, and pointed to the pooch in my lap. “Francis, we want to adopt this puppy.”

Francis bent and tickled the pup under her chin. “We found this little girl crouched in a drainpipe, shaking and sopping wet. Her owners have three more days to claim her. If not, she goes up for adoption on Monday.”
I cuddled the pup closer. “OK, we’ll pick her up Monday.”
Francis shook her head. “We adopt out on a first-come, first-served basis.”

Realization dawned with sickening clarity. I asked, “You mean, someone else might get her?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, but that’s a possibility. The new owner must meet our adoption criteria, of course.”
Patty jumped to her feet. “My mom needs this puppy so she can quit cryin’ over her dead dog. This puppy is his clone!”

Francis patted Patty’s shoulder. “I can tell your mom really likes this dog, but it’s out of my hands. This puppy is exceptionally popular. If her owner doesn’t claim her, the first qualified person here Monday gets her.”
Francis lifted the pup from my lap and winked. “Fill out our paperwork, and check back Monday morning.”

I’d already lost my Tundra. The thought of not getting this puppy transitioned my eyes to “Embarrassing Public Tears” mode.
Patty groaned. “Sheesh, Dad, there she goes again.”

The next day, Saturday, I risked a ticket speeding to the animal shelter. Tiny Tundra leapt up, pawing the chain link door when she saw me.
Francis noticed, and brought the pup out. I spent the morning playing doggie-snuggle while rivers of people flowed past. When potential rivals ogled Tundra’s double, I tried projecting a, “This Dog is Taken” ray into their brains.
Sunday after church I hurried back to visit my duplicate Tundra.

A middle-aged woman cooed to her through the cage mesh. I sent up a panicked semi-prayer, "Lord, smite that woman with dog fur allergy. Or turn her into a cat lover.” Jerking out my wallet, I raced into the kennel’s office and found Francis. “I’ll pay extra to take her home today.”

She lifted her hands. “I’m sorry, we have to follow protocol. The owner has until tonight to claim her. Call us tomorrow.” At my stricken look Francis said, “If this doesn’t work out there are plenty of other dogs available.”
“Not for me.”

Francis tapped her finger against her chin. “Get here tomorrow before we open. If you’re the first approved applicant, she’ll be yours.” Francis held up a cautioning hand. “Even so, you can’t take her directly home. We’d transport her to your veterinarian to be spayed. You’d get her from there.”
Giddy with happiness, I rushed home to share the news, then called my boss to request Monday morning off.
He answered after multiple rings, his voice squeaking like a smashed party horn. I explained my dilemma. He said, “Half of the office is sick. I’m sorry, but we need you at work.”

Panic set in. Someone else would get my dog.
Jake stroked my back. “Calm down. I’ll go there tomorrow morning after work.”
“You work nights. By the time you get there it’ll be too late.” I pictured tiny Tundra with the middle-aged cooing woman. My overactive tear-ducts sprang into action.
Patty strolled into the room. “Sheesh, Dad, not again!”

At her father’s, “Not now,” signal, Patty sighed and wandered out.
Jake lifted my chin. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

Monday morning found me performing agonized mental gymnastics. Would Jake reach the shelter before someone else claimed my puppy? I drove to work trembling. Jake called soon after, sounding cheerful. “Swing by the vet tonight to pick up your dog.”

I choked out, “Jake, you’re the best,” before my eyes locked into “Uncontrollable Joyous Tears” mode.
That evening we sat on the living room floor while Tiny Tundra romped across our legs. I snuggled against Jake. “Sorry for acting so crazy after Tundra died.”
“You acted pretty crazy about Tiny Tundra too, Mom,” Patty chimed in.

Encircled by the precious family who’d supported me through the challenging past year, tears welled. Patty scooped up Tiny Tundra and settled her in my lap. “Mom, enough blubbering!”
Laughing, I kissed Patty’s cheek and cuddled our vivacious pup. “Happy tears, Honey. Only happy tears from now on.”

Boy hugging dog Picture
Elderly Tiny Tundra with Patty's son.
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Easter vs. COVID-19

4/8/2020

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"Dad, it feels like Easter is cancelled. Has this ever happened before? Maybe during WW2?"

My eighty-five year old father replied, "Honey, this is a first. Even during wartime we always celebrated Easter. Services at church. The whole family together for dinner. Easter egg hunts for the kids." Dad paused for a moment. "We've never been in a situation like this, but we'll make it through." 

Dad's right. So hit the road, Easter Grinch. Celebrations may look different, but they will continue. Because the whole reason for Easter isn't colored eggs and chocolate bunnies--although I'm a major chocolate bunny fan.

Easter is a celebration of Jesus coming to Earth. Sacrificing His life so we can have new life. And He offers His love, hope, and encouragement throughout the toughest times. 

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Yes, we're in the midst of trying times. But Jesus said, 
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (The bible, John 16:33)
The coronavirus pandemic will end. 

Jesus love and victory won't.

So take heart! Celebrate Easter in creative ways. And snag a chocolate bunny for me.



Photo courtesy artur84@freedigitalphotos.net

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Dear Diary, It's a BAT!

1/16/2020

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Dear Diary,

8:00 pm--Made foolish decision to drink Mountain Dew. Experienced extended caffeine rush.

3:30 am--Went to bed. Got up 1.2 nanoseconds later to investigate noise in bedroom.

3:31 am--Discovered black, wriggling, fist-sized object inside the window track.

3:32 am--Utilized evasive maneuvers to avoid BAT swooping through bedroom. Evidently a bat's radar draws it toward pajamas. And human shrieks. Much ducking, flailing, and running on my part.

3:45 am--Husband and I donned protective gear. Jake in coat and welding gloves. Me in fluffy pink robe and gardening gloves.

3:55 am--Bat's concealment techniques rivaled Jason Bourne's. We searched possible hiding places, including clothes hamper, closet, bed, shoes, purse.  Located intruder holed up in drapery fold.

4:00 am--After much struggle, captured bat with 6 foot fishing net. Flung bat outside, where it fell lifeless to roof overhang beneath window.

4:05 am--Looked for bat's body. Gone. So not dead.


4:10 am--Began bedroom cleaning/disinfecting process.

6:30 am--Finished bedroom cleaning/ disinfection process. Went to sleep in guest bedroom.

11:00 am--Called parent and shared bat story.

11:30 am--Received call back from Dad saying, "So the bat wasn't dead? Next time use a stake through the heart."

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November 27th, 2019

11/27/2019

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CAUTION: this message contains blatant subliminal messages. (Happy Thanksgiving.)
Beware, intrepid readers.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner.
For some indefinable reason, lately I hear it labeled "Turkey Day."

Picture of roasted turkey on platter
Photo courtesy of tiverylucky@freedigitalphotos.net
 (Happy Thanksgiving.)

Let's stop that insidious madness before it spreads. Okay, maybe that's too strong of a term, but it's kinda' fun to say, "insidious madness."

If you don't believe me, say, "insidious madness" out loud three times. Doesn't it roll off your tongue perfectly?

4 chickens pecking ground
Chickens giving thanks that they aren't turkeys.
( Happy Thanksgiving.)

This is a day to give God thanks. Something that we should do every day anyway.   

(Happy Thanksgiving.)

"Turkey Day" doesn't convey the meaning of Thanksgiving. The message of Thanksgiving. The joy of Thanksgiving. 

(Happy Thanksgiving.)

"Happy Turkey Day," is misleading to the poor turkeys. C'mon, how happy are they today? 

(Happy Thanksgiving.)

Saying, "Lord, thank you for all you've blessed me with," makes better sense, doesn't it? 

(Happy Thanksgiving.)

Even in the midst of sorrow, trial, tribulation, pressure, flat tires, clogged sinks, and colicky babies, we can find something to be grateful for.

Joyous man outdoors raising arms in praise
Photo courtesy of Naypong@ freedigitalphotos.net

"Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus." 1 Thes5:15 NLT 

So friends, whatever your circumstances, I pray you enjoy a blessed and Happy Thanksgiving.

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Top 3 Ways God Beats The Bachelor

8/1/2019

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God vs. The Bachelor?

For the past twenty three TV seasons, women have vied to win The Bachelor's heart. The ladies resort to subterfuge and intricate ploys, fighting like Maybelline-coated wildcats to stay on the show.
To win love.

Those deemed worthy receive a rose; others are elegantly kicked to the curb.

That's not love.

So what is?



An ancient text reveals, "God is Love." Because of that, here are

Top 3 Reasons God Beats The Bachelor
1) The Bachelor welcomes only gorgeous women.
God welcomes all who come to him.  (John 6:37)

2) The women on the show battle for the Bachelor's love.
God extends never-ending love to everyone. No fighting required. (Jeremiah 31:3)

3) The Bachelor offers a rose only to those women he deems worthy.
God offers eternal life and love to all. (John 3:16)
He proved it by giving His only begotten son, Jesus, to open a path to Himself. (Romans 5:8)

Now that's love.
The best part? God's love is available everyday, all day.
There's nothing we can do to earn it, and nothing we can do to make God stop loving us.
If you'd like to dive deep into God's love, pray this simple prayer:

"Jesus, I welcome you into my life. Please forgive my sins. Be my Lord, savior, and friend."

You'll experience true love like you've never known. 

So yeah, God beats The Bachelor, but not in a WWF smack-down way.   
Because true love, God's love, is what The Bachelor and all those lovely competitors need too. 
Now that's a rosy picture.

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"This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.
This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins." 1 John 4:9-10
Learn more about God's amazing love on the PeaceWithGod website. 
Photos courtesy of FrameAngel @freedigitalphotos.net and Hamachidori @Wiki commons



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    Add Godly encouragement and humor to your day. Follow this link to my bi-monthly blog. 


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