tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419717615182984220.post6067472378145792805..comments2024-03-18T04:27:08.100-04:00Comments on Bread, Not Stones: Loud Whispers - Worshiping with ChildrenRebecca Kirkpatrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09493403285461273189noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419717615182984220.post-19183548600202788932019-02-24T08:07:02.092-05:002019-02-24T08:07:02.092-05:00I think this is one of the most significant inform...I think this is one of the most significant information for me. And i’m glad reading your article. But should remark on some general things, The web site style is perfect, the articles is really great : D. Good job, cheers <a href="https://blockchainwhispers.com/litecoin-price/" rel="nofollow">Litecoin</a><br />seoexperthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06801410501138696016noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419717615182984220.post-315944438204790322011-08-09T09:04:10.063-04:002011-08-09T09:04:10.063-04:00Thanks for this Rebecca - I will be sharing it wit...Thanks for this Rebecca - I will be sharing it with folks I know. Lesly CasperAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4419717615182984220.post-44692544970451232392011-08-08T22:56:05.491-04:002011-08-08T22:56:05.491-04:00I love this topic. It speaks to the growth and li...I love this topic. It speaks to the growth and life of the church. And I - the mother of three very active boys who really are paying attention even though they seem miles away - know the pains of 'the look', 'the shush', and 'the departure'. But let me lay it on the line: I love that my boys are in church. <br /><br />When I was a child, my vivid memory was of my mother leading the choir and my brother, sister and I being handled (I use that term lightly) by my father. He would be asleep or muttering about the sermon, and would sometimes discipline us or take us out of the sanctuary to threaten us (which often led to nothing for me and spankings for my brother). My oldest sister? Well, she would be reading some book, so she was never in trouble. But I do remember the congregants around us. They never said, "Take this child out!" or "Church is no place for children!" On the contrary, they were our village of help. Especially Mrs. Bookwalter. Mrs. Bookwalter often corralled us while my mother led the music. One Sunday, my brother busied himself with sliding under the pews on the shiny hardwood floors. As he bolted past pew five or six, he was stopped at pew seven by Mrs. Bookwalter. She scooped up Todd, placed him in her lap, wrapped her arms around him, then held on tight as he proceeded to kick her shins black and blue. But she did not relinquish her grip. Nope. He eventually died down and God won over one little soul that day. (Or at least subdued it.) And you know what? My brother goes to church every Sunday. So does my distracted sister. And so do I... the one who sat and listened attentively. <br /><br />Why do we all attend church? Well, I had heard a study once that the single most predicting factor for church attendance is whether or not your FATHER was a church attender. And the other predictor? The active participation of a parent. Well, my father went (even if he did sleep sometimes and complain others) and my mother led the choir. I guess God placed us in the rich environment of what worship really is: a community of believers who go for the mountaintop moments and the drudgery. Who attend at Christmas and Easter as well as the hot, sweaty summer days where little church fans are your only air conditioning. <br /><br />I must say one more thing. My oldest son decided to sit in church by himself this past Sunday. Now, usually I am telling him to sit-up or read the readings with me. Often I will have to shush him or tell him to stop writing on the church offertory packets. But last Sunday, he sat, stood, sang, read, and listened.... apart from me. Did he see me modeling? Did he witness his father praying? Did he just need the opportunity and practice to show us that God is in him too? I think so. I really, really do.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16476437976808038355noreply@blogger.com