tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21736430658240867482023-11-16T06:19:54.799-07:00Angi's ScribblesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-6782462248552728942017-11-02T11:44:00.001-06:002017-11-02T11:48:40.077-06:00November Gratitude<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">November,
the month of Gratitude. I see all of
your Facebook posts popping up with your gratitude and I read them and I
smile. I’m drawn to look every day for
things to be grateful for, <i>every</i> day
in November and it makes me happy. Why?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhqg07g-CNG4sBMsIW2Ve8RSpNDrARaUFW4f5wfL24gEugwb2K1mCMEPoEiwrcIqh7ozqSIaLgE3PLhaS6pdWdMaKz7Lw-nFhR61Cm10jZSChjnIxOU0InKPXzIA2njB-2mNnkpUtDxw/s1600/Gratitude-Changes-Everything-%2540ItsOverflowingBlog-640x512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="640" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhqg07g-CNG4sBMsIW2Ve8RSpNDrARaUFW4f5wfL24gEugwb2K1mCMEPoEiwrcIqh7ozqSIaLgE3PLhaS6pdWdMaKz7Lw-nFhR61Cm10jZSChjnIxOU0InKPXzIA2njB-2mNnkpUtDxw/s320/Gratitude-Changes-Everything-%2540ItsOverflowingBlog-640x512.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As a little
girl, I was a free thinker, someone confident and satisfied with my world
around me. I think I was pretty happy
most of the time though I have been told that I was pretty stubborn too. It wasn’t until I was older, around ten, and
my family made a significant move many states away that I became more cynical,
and for lack of a better word, sad. It
was hard being the new girl in a small town that thought me strange.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I spent a
lot of years feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Suddenly this confident, bubbly girl, was sad and shy and feeling pretty
badly about herself. If only people
could be kinder, if only I could be prettier, if I could just speak without a Midwest
accent, if maybe I could be more clever, then maybe I could be happier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flash
forward thirty years. I’m still me, only
more chubby (I blame it on the six kids, or maybe the gluten, all the beautiful
wonderful gluten,) I still stumble on my words and once in a while that accent
pops back out to the teasing of my kids, my skin still breaks out and sometimes
people are still mean. But I am happy,
far from shy and rarely feel bad about myself, (for very long anyways,) and I wonder
what has changed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have
worked on those things in life that I have control over and tried to let the
other things go. I’ve made conscious
effort to look at myself in the mirror every day and see me how God sees
me. I’ve tried to remember who I am and
how much I am loved. And I’ve made out
right choices to be happy, trying to teach my children the same, that happiness
is a choice. And it is, but I have found
over the years that the world can be mean, and scary, and downright sad. And things are probably going to continue to
keep going that way or worse. I can’t
let the world decide for me whether or not I’m going to be happy, but I can
decide for me and the best way that I know how to do this is by finding
gratitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead of
being bored because it was <i>that</i> Wednesday
again yesterday when I take Stephanie to the orthodontist and my whole day goes
to driving and ortho and my house stays a mess from the night before, dishes
undone, laundry unwashed, I can see the blessing of hours of alone time that I
get to spend with my sweet quiet daughter whose voice is sometimes drowned out
by her more boisterous sisters and noisy brother. Those are moments and shared
talks that maybe would never have come about any other way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can see
hard things as opportunities to grow and moments of service as time to reflect
my love for God instead of add to the list of <i>must </i>dos. I can watch with
amazement as a spider spins a web and dust swirls in whatever pattern I last
washed it off in on the front porch tables instead of grumping at the spider
web too high to reach and the table once again needing washing even though I
just did it two days ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can find a
million things to be grateful for if I make an effort to find them. It’s amazing how many things are beautiful,
and kind, and happy when I am looking for them.
It’s amazing how much joy can be found when I’m looking for it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So keep
those Facebook posts coming of your gratitude.
Keep me looking each day for things to smile and laugh and love about
and help make this crazy sad world a happier place and when December comes, and
January, (that month that just seems to lag on forever in the cold and lack of
any happy holidays,) comes keep looking for those gratitude moments too, and
share them. Share them with everyone you
see and you know what, <i>things will change</i>. Maybe not the whole world, but people around
you, and me, your Facebook buddy, I will change by your example too and before
you know it that sad little person inside that keeps trying to pop its head out
when things get sad or mean or lonely, that little whiney person that lives in
all of us will learn to smile too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-5156267356481083632017-01-24T11:27:00.001-07:002017-01-24T11:28:52.482-07:00It is not enough!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How do I describe
the many heartbroken tears that I have cried over the last few years, how do I
describe the tears that I shed while on my knees today? Ugly.
Mascara running down my cheeks ugly.
But in reality that is how it should be.
My heart has broken so many times as I look at the world around me and
the world around my tender daughters.
For those of you who know me you know that this is a topic that I am
passionate about, my girls have had more articles and life’s lessons about it taught
to them than their ABC’s and 123’s but it isn’t enough.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some call it
my opinion, my stubbornness, my dictatorship and I should respect them their
own “opinion.” But how can I? This isn’t just a thought or an idea of mine,
this is a truth, and not just my truth but the whole world’s truth even if
people try to say otherwise, or rather “YELL” otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have
recently become a grandma, yes a very young, fun, classy grandma! Brantley Bear is the most amazing little
boy. I would share his picture with you
and you would see deep dimples on a face of the sweetest little boy that only
smiles all of the time, but I know some would use his little face to protest
against me. His little infectious laugh
and ever smiling face lights a room and calls others to find joy, to be
happy. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember
the first time my husband and I got to go with my son and his beautiful wife to
see our Little Guy on the ultra sound.
He wiggled and moved so much they couldn’t find out his gender and I
remember thinking is there anything more amazing, more perfect, or more holy
than this? It was a miracle, <i>he is</i> a miracle.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now if my
daughter in law had been in the middle of something that she thought more
important than being a mom, or if heaven forbid she had even been brutally
raped, Brantley Bear would still have been that same amazing, perfect, and yes
wiggly guy on the ultra sound. Nothing
about how he was created could change what he was or what he is, Holy!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I am not
going to go into the proof, the pictures, the articles, the testimonies of so
many. I’m not going to try to prove my
point. So many before me have already
done that, and if your heart still hasn’t soften to this Truth than nothing I
say will change that, what I am going to say is this… It is not enough. It is not enough that I kneel every day and
ask God to heal this world and heal our hearts.
It is not enough that I ask him every day to help me teach my daughters
about how sacred they are and how Holy the act of creation is even if sometimes
it results from the sins and unholy acts of others. It is not enough that I share stories and
articles on Facebook and preach love.
None of it is enough until every last baby gets the right to live like
my Brantley Bear or like every one of my children when they were conceived did. It is not enough!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In a world
where the left and the right and everything in between speaks loud and yells
until the quiet truths of our Father in Heaven is drown out by their pollution,
it is not enough to quietly shine for him.
We have to do more, we <i>have</i> to
be loud, we <i>have</i> to be heard. Millions of little Brantley Bears need us to
be their Saviors, and quite frankly our Savior, our Redeemer needs us to be His
voice above all the other wicked voices calling good evil and evil good.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This day,
and every day until it is enough and abortion is done away with I will be that
voice trying to do my best to yell above the others. And I will not shy away from those who wish
to yell right back at me, I won’t be afraid that I might lose friends and that
my truth, <i>The</i> truth, might be
unpopular. Brantley Bear deserves all of
our voices, all of them do and if your voice isn’t being heard, yell louder,
stand taller, be braver! Fill your lungs
with the words, fill Facebook and Twitter and every aspect of everything around
you with this truth. You may tire of my
rant and you might even tire of my posts, but until it is done, until It Is
Enough, I will stand for this truth, His truth, and no one will silence me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Will you
stand with me? Are you Brave
enough? Are you Passionate enough? Will you fight for all of the Brantley Bears
that no one else is willing to fight for?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It Is Not
Enough!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-25514392221928805002016-09-15T08:56:00.003-06:002016-09-15T08:58:43.365-06:00Random Acts<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yesterday
was a crazy day in Angi World. Most of
you know that Jason and I run a small home business. For over twenty years Jason has run a mobile
D.J. company that ranges from small weddings to small arena size sound. It has grown over the years as customers have
asked us for things that my brilliant husband has easily come up with. Giant movies in the park, karaoke nights at
the Wilkinson Center and Photo Booth for parties and weddings and corporate
gigs. Yesterday for me was along the
lines of corporate gig.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I meet a lot
of people doing Photo Booth and I am immersed in a lot of different
cultures. I love talking to people and
laughing with them, because that is what Photo Booth is….fun.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yesterday I
was at a beautiful park in Salt Lake, Sugar House, and it is huge. Finding the pavilion I was to set up at took
a moment but once I got there a whole herd of people unloaded me right to my
spot. Amazing… the lady in charge was so
nice and the people who worked for her completely concerned for my
comfort. Again…amazing! I met so many interesting people and when the
rain came threatening my gear a million hands were there instantly to break it
all down and get it into my car, without me asking. Again amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Traffic,
during rush hour getting home was ridiculous, but for the first time in freeway
history people were nice and patient. I
got home 1 and ½ hours early because of the rain and was able to empty the car
with the kids, send girls off to young women’s, drive Sam to scouts, get gas
and take Suzy out to her friend's in Fairfield so that she could get up bright
and early, 3:00 a.m. early, to take her pig to the State Fair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Crazy day,
and that doesn’t even include all that I did that morning. Driving home from Fairfield around 7:30 that
night I stopped at our local grocery store to get milk and bread for the next
day and grabbed a few things on sale. On
the drive there, alone in my car, I said a heartfelt gratitude prayer that the
day in all of its craziness had gone so well and I had met so many nice
people. I went through the grocery store
in kind of a tired daze but it was all good.
Unloaded the groceries and got into the car and drove out of my parking
spot when I noticed a little sticky note stuck to my windshield. When I got out to see what it was I was
certain someone had bumped into my car and was leaving me their information,
although I hadn’t noticed any damage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The note </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">had
two simple words in orange marker, “You’re Awesome.”</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Now possibly this was put on there by someone
I know, but more likely it was put there by someone who just wanted to brighten
someone’s day.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">I smiled.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">The day had been so crazy with the monsoon
and crazy work and mom schedule and all, but so good in so many ways, but now
it truly was awesome.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">I got home to an
empty house, kids gone and Jason working at BYU, but I took the note inside
determined to tell everyone about my happy little surprise.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">I fell asleep and forgot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This morning
after breakfast Sam went to take the garbage out to the road for pick up day
and when he came back inside he ran to tell me, “You know what Mom, I’m
Awesome.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was so
excited to tell me about the note that he saw when coming back in from taking
the garbage out that was sitting on our dining room table which is right inside
the sliding glass door. He was smiling
from ear to ear and then I told him my story.
So not only did I have an awesome end to my night, Sam had an awesome
start to his day, and through it all I had a great lesson to teach him about
random acts of kindness and what they can do for a person. And what if, what if my last night was
actually a long horrible one and Sam’s morning was a jumbled crazy one, well
then that random act of kindness would have brought some joy in a life that was
struggling. You never know what joy you
can spread, whether it is adding to the goodness that is already there or
bringing a light in an otherwise dark storm, it matters people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, and
thank you, you random someone for making two people smile today, and last
night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-37655335700917212082016-03-14T11:20:00.002-06:002016-03-14T11:20:41.254-06:00Choosing the Good<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I woke up
this morning after the craziest dream and I’m gonna share it with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t worry there is a point to it…it just
might take a moment for you to understand the reasoning behind it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In my dream
I had several unsightly zits on my face and I was off and about to some place
spectacular where people would see me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Suzy had taken my cover-up stick and so I borrowed hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well in the real life tendency I have to
sensitivities in my skin I, in this dream, reacted to Suzy’s cover-up stick,
breaking out in a rash and eventually blistering and bleeding, skin peeling off
of my face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes, I know,
stupid dream, but what does it have to do with anything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely nothing, but that is what has been
going through my head over and over this morning, every gory, gruesome bit,
when it should have been amazing things that happened last week, like…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lunch with
my mom that turned into the whole day and dinner that night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beautiful
dirt for the garden spot bought for only $20.00 for the whole truck load.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Suzy winning
third place in her FFA science project at Richfield that she was not expecting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDXYFhP_Iwh4C5QIyn3_5lIziO3KRD4aLpqH9uqIx80-T0cO8MTEIffNHA9195_WU0k_iABJq_AGGHfdx8mJP_vZdPXb7eKarTLbWKIIjawLcLY10wpzpeTHav_m4y5RkNs5G5hFBGus/s1600/suzy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDXYFhP_Iwh4C5QIyn3_5lIziO3KRD4aLpqH9uqIx80-T0cO8MTEIffNHA9195_WU0k_iABJq_AGGHfdx8mJP_vZdPXb7eKarTLbWKIIjawLcLY10wpzpeTHav_m4y5RkNs5G5hFBGus/s320/suzy.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nan getting
her FFA state degree also at said FFA getaway in Richfield.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSiPQfWwoLFMtcbiXzyPUB5LOY2tWmsIvlTkaNJq8Ke4EEL75vSPj43W4Wl0hLfPdTT7SYVduUwvWPHANB_5GbaEthYarYQlkcwGDOpt82yznKdNWPIdVK_0CyO_GF7Xh6F5rQ3dmvQo/s1600/nan+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSiPQfWwoLFMtcbiXzyPUB5LOY2tWmsIvlTkaNJq8Ke4EEL75vSPj43W4Wl0hLfPdTT7SYVduUwvWPHANB_5GbaEthYarYQlkcwGDOpt82yznKdNWPIdVK_0CyO_GF7Xh6F5rQ3dmvQo/s320/nan+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nan off on
her date with Ethan for her prom and all the girly fun of shopping and dress
fitting and fingernail painting and picture taking that goes along with that…not
to mention the splendid time that she had and all while looking like a princess
the whole time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or, finally,
the fact that Jason and I had the busiest day ever Saturday with gigs and life
and somehow we made it through it spectacularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And by the way the next day was daylight
saving time resulting in only 3 1/2 very grumpy hours of sleep for me and I
taught Relief Society that day through a very groggy mind and the Stake Relief
Society Presidency decided to show up, but you know what…although it for sure
was not my best lesson ever, it definitely wasn’t my worse and I didn’t make a
complete fool out of myself, and that too was a pretty excellent thing too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So why does
this stupid dream keep going through my head instead of these wonderful
things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do the jokes of presidential
candidates that are running for president keep haunting me and the unending ache
that I feel when I think of all those innocent babies that keep being murdered
in the name of feminism keep clouding my mind or the hunger and war and famine
and wickedness and callousness of society keep hounding me instead of the
wonderful things in life, like for one, I am going to be a grandmother the end
of July to the fabulous Brantley that I have already gotten to see on the ultra
sound machine with my husband and my son and his beautiful wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What about the neighbors and ward members
that I love and the friendships of such beauty with people all over that I
hold, or the fact that I have the most sexy, amazing, kind, generous, fun
husband in the whole world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a
member of Christ’s church and have every blessing that they had in ancient
times that go right along with that, including temple marriage and the perfect
outline of how to live a blessed happy life written for me in sacred
scriptures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why does my mind gravitate
more to the sad things in life than the beautiful?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think it
is human nature, and don’t get me wrong, if no one, me included, never thought
on those sad things nothing would ever change, nothing would ever get better
and that too would be a very big sin, but I think an even bigger sin is in losing
ourselves to self-pity, to doubt, to harsh things of life and neglecting to be
grateful and even very happy for the millions and even billions of blessings
that we have in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shouldn’t we be
mindful of all the good around us, shouldn’t we be grateful?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shouldn’t we hold ourselves responsible for
the attitude that we choose to share with the rest of the world, especially the
ones we love the most, our family?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aren’t
I showing ingratitude when I don’t choose to be happy in life, and not just
kinda, but truly and really happy in life when I have all those millions and
billions of blessings?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t I have some
responsibility in choosing that happiness and by so doing sharing it with the
rest of the world?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of the
prayers this Sunday in our church service mentioned those around the world that
were praying also and the spirit that they sent around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All those millions praying in different
churches and different religions all over the world because it was the Sabbath softening
the world just a little by their faith that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t me choosing to be happy and looking
to my God given blessings each and every day send a little peace out into the
world and if more and more people chose to be happy and look to their
blessings, wouldn’t the compilation of those millions of happy vibes soften the
world just a little?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t forget
those other sad and important things, because it is up to you to help change
them, all of us together thinking and praying and working and enlightening
others on those sad and sinful things in the world will compile together to
help to change them, but a happy, grateful heart along the way can only add to
the change that together can soften the </span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">whole entire world.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now…here is
a picture of Nan’s most fabulous desert that she had on her amazing prom date
to hold you over for one more day and help to sweeten those happy thoughts you
and I are going to choose for ourselves today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-61412245627116823612016-02-10T12:11:00.000-07:002016-02-10T12:11:13.412-07:00The Secret to the Perfect, Imperfect Marriage
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ever have
something so perfect and wonderful and good that you wished that you could
share it with the rest of the world?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it scares me a little
that it is too perfect and therefore something must come along to pull it all
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other times I feel guilt because
nobody else has what I have and why do I deserve something so wonderful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jason says I’m
crazy when I say it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why should I feel guilty for having something
amazing, even if few others do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wondering what I am talking about?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKEKJ6WiPS8KIae2uE-oJHyndGTdiCU7ahvTaDTwq-DO5Co3MroPV7ksZyRqzVWg_4kziXnPgrLJPyDT1NhFZvOxvjItJ8fciFC5I6NUirwqP21-1LxgT24f7VMLdesB2TWG5ZnNUjxo/s1600/valentines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKEKJ6WiPS8KIae2uE-oJHyndGTdiCU7ahvTaDTwq-DO5Co3MroPV7ksZyRqzVWg_4kziXnPgrLJPyDT1NhFZvOxvjItJ8fciFC5I6NUirwqP21-1LxgT24f7VMLdesB2TWG5ZnNUjxo/s320/valentines.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So last
night I watched the show “Fresh off the Boat.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not life changing, it never is meant to be, but sometimes when I can’t
fall asleep something light and fun like that show helps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyhoo…it was their Valentines show and the
middle boy who is a ladies man (he’s like 11 so it’s very innocent and cute)
was making a love wall, hanging all of his valentines up on the wall and
leaving them up for the whole year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was really sad later in the show when his parents had an empty house with no
kids and instead of doing a gooey lovey dovey Valentines Night they stayed home
and did their taxes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Broke his heart but
the neighbor man next door taught him that true love shows up in little things
and not always in grandiose ways.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Qj6jlGIcLKvKl2JpW_KaFQ6yhHAhocVa0AwzpF8r8IrZcO4eapX_6qbOnP7P0euKAD6TXsjgl1eNv2MEKzhZ2umwsZx6bG3cv8_eNwwFLLx5lY1OYhQkuM9M_k95NV-gG22O4OKRzo/s1600/roseman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9Qj6jlGIcLKvKl2JpW_KaFQ6yhHAhocVa0AwzpF8r8IrZcO4eapX_6qbOnP7P0euKAD6TXsjgl1eNv2MEKzhZ2umwsZx6bG3cv8_eNwwFLLx5lY1OYhQkuM9M_k95NV-gG22O4OKRzo/s320/roseman.jpg" width="215" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The idea was
sweet, and it had a good message, but I couldn’t help but think of what Jason’s
little things were, verses theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
the fact that he carries around a blanket for me in his car trunk just in case
I might get cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How he knows the best
places for me to go potty any trip we take because he knows I kinda hate public
bathrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How I have every gadget I
could ever imagine for my kitchen cause he knows how much I love to cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How a section of our bedroom, his side of the
bed even, has my stationary bike in it because he knows it is the best angle
for the television and he knows I hate to workout outside cause it’s cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How he gets mad if the kids let me shovel the
walk or driveway because he knows I can’t keep my core warm and I’ll shiver for
hours after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The times he gets the
shower warm ahead of time just for me and a towel laid out because, well…the
whole cold thing again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He calls me to
share his day with me all day long and he rushes home to me at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He snuggles and holds me nonstop and chases
me around the house to get kisses and hugs because he needs me near, and he
doesn’t even care who sees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even going
to the store he drags me along because he knows how much I miss him when he is
gone to work all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwKBbKCewPDxSaE-ID6mGWcu5zYDPL-d-VL-wnUnVf_qcqw8GzBMRT8lHG92ZBOGpZc-KMMnX_bkAAwei5qpS9xp_R3nT5pV-SuLgYQynw5IJV9IRGGu2IoImgM7vMvOKZjbiRTpzF2w/s1600/holding+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwKBbKCewPDxSaE-ID6mGWcu5zYDPL-d-VL-wnUnVf_qcqw8GzBMRT8lHG92ZBOGpZc-KMMnX_bkAAwei5qpS9xp_R3nT5pV-SuLgYQynw5IJV9IRGGu2IoImgM7vMvOKZjbiRTpzF2w/s320/holding+hands.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I’ve
thought about the big things that he does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He never ever looks at other women and turns his head if they are
dressed inappropriately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in no way
form or circumstance does he ever let me talk bad about myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tells me that I am beautiful, or sexy, or
perfect about a million times a day and better yet he absolutely means it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says sorry first when I hold a grudge and
he covers me up at night when he comes home late from a gig and I am already
asleep in bed and my covers have slid off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He holds me and listens and remembers everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tells the kids how wonderful I am and
expects them to treat me like a queen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He goes to church and holds my hand or wraps his arm around me while we
sit side by side, no children in between us, because, he taught me when our children
were very little, he loves me and they should know that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am the first person that he wants to
share something with when he’s had a bad day, or even better yet when something
wonderful has happened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMw7yOvl_-LfwgyPSI0oph_bmd72E5oUVGBmJUPzabwRIiQjk2YMV33q2xrDcIGuwlBhVw4IaUZCHUQfnZUofbntU2PPqvoCA4oQt11sIENEQmujo8HgfQmquwQBrV8E9RB1wXp8MXoE/s1600/jason+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMw7yOvl_-LfwgyPSI0oph_bmd72E5oUVGBmJUPzabwRIiQjk2YMV33q2xrDcIGuwlBhVw4IaUZCHUQfnZUofbntU2PPqvoCA4oQt11sIENEQmujo8HgfQmquwQBrV8E9RB1wXp8MXoE/s400/jason+and+me.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now can you
see why sometimes I feel so guilty because I have something so amazing? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this is where I will share this little
secret with you…are you ready…we, Jason and I, didn’t just happen upon this
perfection accidently, and sometimes, some days, it’s lacking ever so slightly
in perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve been married twenty
two most beautiful, wonderful, amazing, incredibly hard years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes me squeezing the tooth paste tube
all wonky has driven him nuts, and sometimes him leaving his bags all over the
living room coach has made me pull out my hair, but at the end of the day,
none, not ever one of those things have ever been deal breakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the year before Jason figured out that he
was Diabetic and his moodiness was really picking at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the year that my hormones were off when
Luke was a baby and one minute I was crying, the next minute I was yelling and
the next minute I was sulking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not when
we had a teenage boy that was driving us to our wits ends and at each other’s
throats and we didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not when we had a very sick baby threatening
to die on us every second and neither of us knew the right way to handle the
stress of the fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even when I was
on bed rest going stir crazy and Jason being pulled in every direction at once
being both mom and dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">None of
those things, or bigger things that pull at every marriage has ever been deal
breakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And why is that, you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did we overcome that and flourish and
build this perfect imperfect marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because…ready for this…we chose to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There you have it, the secret to the perfect, most wonderful, beautiful,
happy ooey gooey marriage is found in one word, choice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jason has
always been better at this choice thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He chooses to forgive so much faster than me, he chooses to love even
when I’m the least loveable, and he chooses so completely to think of me every
moment of his entire day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he has
taught me that choices, those moments of serving one another, of loving one
another are the most important choices that we will ever make even if sometimes
they are the hardest ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you know
what, the more that you make these choices the easier they become until your
life is wonderful and amazing and perfect, well until something else hard comes
along and then you have to make all those choices all over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But those choices are worth it and even if
the other person isn’t choosing them you can, and hopefully somewhere down the
road, they like me, will learn to make those choices too, because we are human
and believe it or not we are completely capable, each and every one of us of making
those wonderful though sometimes very hard choices to love, and forgive,
because let’s face it, every one of us needs forgiveness sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObG_wSBPW7svye7CnY1x3WmsTKBLF9XaKIjBiZNSHp6xEElMzSYxfaw_gFYoEaxBYKpOFY-CaLGyukUWiEJFb_Rr-ZLfcyZLowQgwiqe28CItM8-3Ai1tWijuQmfzObt8jugUDMJIcqE/s1600/temple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObG_wSBPW7svye7CnY1x3WmsTKBLF9XaKIjBiZNSHp6xEElMzSYxfaw_gFYoEaxBYKpOFY-CaLGyukUWiEJFb_Rr-ZLfcyZLowQgwiqe28CItM8-3Ai1tWijuQmfzObt8jugUDMJIcqE/s320/temple.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So yes, I’m
gonna make my ooey gooey Valentine’s Day wall to last all year in my
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may not recognize it as such
when you see it, but I will always know what it is every time that I walk past
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s this great big mirror in my
bathroom, and in the right light it reflects back at me all the emotions and
thoughts and choices that I have made every day and every day that I am making
the right ones, the loving ones, I’m adding to that valentines wall that makes
up this so wonderful and ever changing marriage that is all my own, well and
Jason’s too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-42062066384910329362015-10-01T11:49:00.001-06:002015-10-01T11:52:45.486-06:00More Grandpa Dinkels<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let me tell
you about my Grandpa.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_4Bcky415Jt1pJdFdjgnn1EeJLBkUijVzQNFXpke1gaYMTH0OR-6nxMgT9fsJfdc6xLuUFMF3BFbSQmYhFga6tZADuIoU-6RcjvwtN5mcomzgVh1EfHmav3Z4cUxPjmLJCnaLZHVrcc/s1600/louis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_4Bcky415Jt1pJdFdjgnn1EeJLBkUijVzQNFXpke1gaYMTH0OR-6nxMgT9fsJfdc6xLuUFMF3BFbSQmYhFga6tZADuIoU-6RcjvwtN5mcomzgVh1EfHmav3Z4cUxPjmLJCnaLZHVrcc/s1600/louis.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Louis
Frederick Dinkel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">No this is
not a blog on genealogy, though I know that genealogy is important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is quite literally about my grandpa and
love, his love, God’s love, perfect love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I was a
little girl we would go visit my grandpa, and my little bit crazy grandma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma was fun, she would buy us things,
expensive things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a little kid, flashy
things were exciting, but Grandpa was better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew he loved me, loved me more than anyone or anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember him holding me tall to watch the
coo coo clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember him taking me
for walks and stopping to pick a rose from a neighbor’s flowers (OOPS) for my
crazy grandma, and I remember how he looked at her, with love in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
walking through the door every summer for the first time and him kissing me and
saying, “This one looks just like me,” as he continued down the line of all of
my brothers and sisters, even my adopted brother who is black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember him taking us for rides to get ice
cream in his old station wagon, and I remember him complaining to my
grandmother every time that she bought him a new pair of fancy shoes that his
old ones were just fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I remember
him shrugging and putting them on for her as he smiled at her with love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
walking into his business and watching as he greeted each and every employee
knowing everything about them and showing them proudly his spectacular
grandchildren, and I remember thinking that I was someone special to all of
those that worked for my grandpa, because I was his.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39MM7drpIQJSWc-IU5kr5nKfV3lMARGdQq5oHtTAUmMfOVl2tEE9MF-VgO3X6BrdKSKHcNB6H8LRtKjeSMzAsB8nrmmgVpLqgCPuRrYdnC9KBYYJOQRkjNi7hglRaYZN81RZSdjTyflk/s1600/christ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39MM7drpIQJSWc-IU5kr5nKfV3lMARGdQq5oHtTAUmMfOVl2tEE9MF-VgO3X6BrdKSKHcNB6H8LRtKjeSMzAsB8nrmmgVpLqgCPuRrYdnC9KBYYJOQRkjNi7hglRaYZN81RZSdjTyflk/s320/christ.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
walking into a restaurant or diner and feeling the room change and the crowd
soften because the light that flowed from my grandpa lightened all that was
around him, and for a moment peace spread through any place he went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember his house covered in pictures of
the Savior and crucifixes and holy bibles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I remember knowing his love for God was greater than anything that I
had ever known.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And when I
got older, I began to realize that crazy grandma was really very sick/bipolar/<u>schizophrenic</u>
hurtful grandma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma wasn’t nice
grandma, grandma wasn’t loving wife or mother grandma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was hurtful and cruel and sad grandma,
and my grandfather loved her perfectly even with so much hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brought her shakes and flowers and
slippers and she would say thank you one moment and be cruel the next, but my
grandpa loved my grandma till the very, very end of his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, you ask, because he loved the Savior and
he was as much like the Savior as perhaps possible in this life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I got
married and started raising my babies I always thought of my grandfather who
only met my oldest once when he was only a few months old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been so many years since he has died, so
many, but I still think of him every single day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It took me
so many years to learn to find joy, joy in everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took me so so many years to be the glass
is half full kind of gal, but now that I have lived so many years that way I
can’t help but understand the kind of peace and joy that comes from finding
something so great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes my heart
physically hurts from the joy that I feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And when it does I think of my grandfather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I become like him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I take that joy and peace and love and
let it radiate out of me so that the room, wherever that room might be, softens
from me walking into it, lightens just a little from me being there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I share that love, that peace and joy
so perfectly like my grandpa did?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He shared it
so perfectly that this granddaughter of his, so many years later still smiles
and softens for thinking on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
loved my Savior, his Savior, and he loved people even in their most hurtful
states and he changed his little granddaughter for forever because of his
perfect love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now if only
there were enough Grandpa Dinkels around, maybe the whole world would change,
because their God’s light, would be so great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe, just maybe, that is what this world needs, more of my grandpa
Dinkels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe then eternity would be
right now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<a href="http://www.nedcoelectronics.com/pages/tribute.asp">http://www.nedcoelectronics.com/pages/tribute.asp</a> a tribute a little about him from his death.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-38448223247432907962015-07-31T10:08:00.003-06:002015-07-31T10:14:57.848-06:00The Devil's Business<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve tried
to sit back, I really have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve tried
to be the polite one who shared her views quietly as I blogged about sweet
things, of hope and love, and God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
shared small quiet opinions on Facebook as I have shared others blogs and posts
and by doing so I thought that I was being polite and kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that I was doing my best to spread
joy by not spreading controversy, but today as I was reading yet another blog
by another person other than myself who seemed to put everything that I felt so
perfectly into words for me, I realized that I wasn’t being polite or kind, I
was being cowardly and hiding the testimony that is me, even if it might offend
someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to use my voice even if
all it accomplishes is to make someone mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I cannot profess to have a testimony if the only way I share it is in
the quiet confines of my safe little home with others who feel the same way as
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No fear of rejection, maybe, but no
voice in a world that so desperately needs more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most of you
know that I am a mother of six crazy kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I try to be a great mother, my most important job, but I am human and
fail quiet regularly, and my kids are human and fail quiet regularly too…that
being said, I’ve mostly stuck to the pleasant times in my life, or the
testimony building times in my life in this blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of you may not know that I at times
struggled to have those sweet kiddos of mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After Luke we had a very unexpected pregnancy, he was only three months
old, but after lots of, “oh craps”, we accepted, moved on and even became
excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three months later on the move
back to Utah I lost said baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that
point that baby was already mine and the loss was hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took 18 months more of trying and praying
and several early miscarriages later before we conceived Jenny.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkIvZuoEn6G3n60E1xbxUJmLOk-3FlAimJOCxGsmjAHKW_Mj1chpWTRUsWah1ad6j-5FSRD8c67jeDknPh03OP-QB6YzJ1olWjN57lOF8ehX-9CcEA5KFNe6pCrjoyiRA4Lk9LC6Z_ls/s1600/jen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkIvZuoEn6G3n60E1xbxUJmLOk-3FlAimJOCxGsmjAHKW_Mj1chpWTRUsWah1ad6j-5FSRD8c67jeDknPh03OP-QB6YzJ1olWjN57lOF8ehX-9CcEA5KFNe6pCrjoyiRA4Lk9LC6Z_ls/s320/jen.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Joy of Joys,
let me tell you when Jenny was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That was until 5 ½ weeks later when she contracted RSV which led to pneumonia,
which led to several days in the hospital which led to Jenny turning blue,
which led to our doctor rushing to get her breathing which led to said doctor
who was also our Bishop at the time and Jason giving Jenny a blessing and
little sweet tiny baby Jenny and me riding frantically in an ambulance to Utah
Valley Hospital where she almost died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seeing my baby with pick lines and tubes and oxygen for days struggling
to live when in reality she should not have, crushed my heart, not to mention
the next two years of her fighting to get her immune system back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWhpmjOIJQcS3oVfv5Iu-HeXzj38jr-wwnUr_mZH5i-BCT4LzZNKBva5KJhLCvpodoe0bujYQtESuGwG4KkrusS8MwY3yBfAwdn3pCL0wo6a3satLozK8Vw5IISFRqkidJyni6ltihcI/s1600/steph+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWhpmjOIJQcS3oVfv5Iu-HeXzj38jr-wwnUr_mZH5i-BCT4LzZNKBva5KJhLCvpodoe0bujYQtESuGwG4KkrusS8MwY3yBfAwdn3pCL0wo6a3satLozK8Vw5IISFRqkidJyni6ltihcI/s320/steph+2.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0I7ouRJ7s-UEKudJ62pd1gCw2Gn3fYY16EI_K4FtC7CVdN8xQ8atRfnBlMXRwdBiQ1dAg2NE7E6GEJ4-ma9uBWwgoIkmxTQccCWhUzQEXFNHtXuaLbtJS_Tpt2nq3yObiejFI5s6lfE/s1600/steph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0I7ouRJ7s-UEKudJ62pd1gCw2Gn3fYY16EI_K4FtC7CVdN8xQ8atRfnBlMXRwdBiQ1dAg2NE7E6GEJ4-ma9uBWwgoIkmxTQccCWhUzQEXFNHtXuaLbtJS_Tpt2nq3yObiejFI5s6lfE/s320/steph.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Flash
forward 6 plus years to my little Stephanie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>5 ½ weeks away until her birth and suddenly my blood pressure is racing
and her little body starts actually losing weight in the womb in the month that
it should be gaining the most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3 ½ weeks
of bed rest and one false alarm emergency trip in an ambulance to Utah Valley
Hospital later and sweet, very tiny, Stephanie is born, complete with the cord
wrapped several times tightly around her neck and all, all 5 ½ pounds of her
with fiery wild red hair and the sweetest little face ever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve had
sister in laws who have struggled much worse than me, trying so desperately,
going from one doctor to the next, spending day and night on their knees just
to get the chance to be a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
the heartbreak that I have seen on their faces says it all, childhood is a
gift, a gift that so many don’t seem to understand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where am I
going with this, well, I think you all know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When Jason and I were first married and first pregnant with our first
baby Luke, we lived far from home in a state very unfamiliar for us without the
use of a cell phone and long distance being so much money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was young and naive and completely unaware
of what to do next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking for a place
to come across discretely a pregnancy test I looked in the phone book and came
across the name, “Planned Parenthood.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now this was 22 years ago and I was very innocent and in my mind those
words described me perfectly, someone trying to plan parenthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would like to say the pregnancy test was
free…but it wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It cost the same as
it would have in the store, but it was discrete and very quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had I known then what I know now, I never
would have gone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Planned
Parenthood is the Devils business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By walking
through those doors I was in the Devil’s house even if not aware.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And times have changed and the world has
grown and eyes have been opened and everyone is aware, well accept maybe our
very little ones who are still slightly protected from this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one in America can any longer claim
innocence like I could 22 years ago, media and the internet have changed
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all know who Planned Parenthood
is and what they are about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
about the Devil’s work, destroying innocent lives before they have a chance to flourish
or fail per their God given right, and destroying the most sacred institution
in this world the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you enter
Planned Parenthood you are entering the Devil’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you work for Planned Parenthood you are
working for the Devil’s business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if
you have any excuses for it you are making excuses for the Devil himself, you
are doing the Devil’s work.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is no
longer a grey line, a magic haze between right and wrong that is easy to sway
one way or another to fit our whims and selfish desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Planned Parenthood was ousted as baby
killers that line was no longer grey but black and white and when the media hit
with the sale they are making of these innocent victims body parts that only
come after the horrible murder of ones too tiny to fight for themselves the
magic haze disappeared entirely letting light, or maybe more accurately darkness
shine in on the whole deal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’ve
ever been a mother, you cannot look at a little newborn in your arms and not
know, if even just for one little second, that there is something, or someone
greater working in the making of that child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And if you’ve ever been a mother struggling with the fear or even loss
of losing a child, you cannot logically say that that life didn’t matter, even
in the few minute cells that it was in its very first beginnings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you’ve ever been a mother struggling
so hard and praying so long just for the chance to be a mother, you cannot
possibly understand how someone, shellfish or inconvenienced or hurt could ever
think it alright to destroy something so precious.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t care
who you are, what your views are, or how I might hurt your feelings…if you
support Planned Parenthood, well then you are doing your little bit today to
help the Devil along his way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if I
keep shut about how I feel about it, well maybe, just maybe I am doing the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-62975876084003657482015-07-21T11:20:00.001-06:002015-07-21T11:23:59.689-06:00The Most Dreaded Calling that I Never Knew that I Would Love!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who knew
that I could love Scouts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly not
me…certainly not the lady who was in Cub Scouts years ago when my grown son was
a baby and hated, yet endured, every minute of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the bishopric came and welcomed us into
our new home over a month ago and asked what callings I loved and which had
been my least favorite, my first response was that I loved Young Womens and that
Nursery, though I had loved every minute of that year that I had served there,
was not huge on my hope to serve there again calling list, but back in my mind
I was also thinking, “Oh, please, not Cub Scouts.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shock to all
get out when I was called, though I had had the feeling for a week that Cub
Scouts was coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told the first
counselor that I wasn’t a Scouter, but that I would learn and that I could do
anything that Heavenly Father wanted me to do and I chose to go forth with that
attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me reemphasize the word
chose, because it very much was a conscious decision on my part, I was
determined to do good by my new calling and by Heavenly Father.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9G6AQ7omoDc00BEMzer4MzgcltevtjvS3C3vQiF9UGmidf9L1betpU9ydydK3pmzjcqx21wjGS6GYl6QkuCuhvpX1-Gtehd2gs-x4fe3GPKjHIDFDr7AT93VFe9EcZq5Ot7ZQmL8hUuA/s1600/shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9G6AQ7omoDc00BEMzer4MzgcltevtjvS3C3vQiF9UGmidf9L1betpU9ydydK3pmzjcqx21wjGS6GYl6QkuCuhvpX1-Gtehd2gs-x4fe3GPKjHIDFDr7AT93VFe9EcZq5Ot7ZQmL8hUuA/s1600/shirt.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s where
the neat part comes in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t God
amazing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my heart I wanted to do his
will and be grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to serve
where he needed me and where I could bless someone else, but that is the
amazing thing about God, he knows what we need even when we don’t, he knows the
best way to bless us even in a calling that we so don’t want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve only been at it 2 ½ weeks and only
attended 2 activities and one training, but I am already excited for this Wednesday
and to be able to go to Scouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
even excited when the ugly yellow scout shirt came in the mail and it fit so
perfectly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I was on my knees in
prayer this morning thanking Heavenly Father for the blessings that keep piling
on our family and on me I was so grateful for our new ward and for the women
that I am already getting to know and learning to love and I realized then that
Cub Scouts was for me and not for those that I will serve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God knew that I would meet some pretty
amazing women there and get to know them in a way that only a calling can do
for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also knew that I needed to
be part of the Sunday School and Relief Society programs to learn and grow and
feel the spirit there and I couldn’t have in a Sunday calling that would have
taken me away from that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to mention
the amazing women that I am learning about by going to Relief Society with
them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t
know that when I was answering yes to a calling that was very close to one of
the lowest on my list of must have callings would turn out to be God’s way of
giving me friends and helping me to feel so much a part of a ward that is MY
ward, and My ward family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so
grateful for Cub Scouts, that most dreaded calling that I already am so in love
with and for the choice that I made to have a determined and joyful attitude
when called, because I couldn’t have known then that in so doing God was trying
to bless me with everything, and everyone that I needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who would have known?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly not me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-49333969009262696612015-07-06T16:02:00.001-06:002015-07-07T10:25:38.663-06:00Somebody Driving that Knows the Road<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Lord, but
this is a funny world when you get to studying!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Looks like things didn’t all come by accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looks as if there was a plan back of it, and
somebody driving that knows the road, and how to handle the lines.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>–A Girl of the Limberlost- by: Gene
Stratton-Porter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Funny how
many times that I look back on my life and think those same thoughts if not in
such a pretty verse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sure had it all
settled out when I was a little girl of how I hoped my life to be, and for the
most part it has all come to pass, only so much harder, and so much more
beautiful than I ever could have planned it to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It never ceases to amaze me how much God is
in all of the details.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYSZDDSeCTOEX3D3ia0LCMZzAlqGsXg7FrfVXQYRhd3gFYwyltOLwTx_22dsvczAP0x-8UpyqT7mERvcyQDK5LtE8zHsRb7LR6CbRoJ14ozdWVzTtYnpHLiNCi1RQRzgQ4a1Cr3aUwaQ/s1600/nephi+ut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYSZDDSeCTOEX3D3ia0LCMZzAlqGsXg7FrfVXQYRhd3gFYwyltOLwTx_22dsvczAP0x-8UpyqT7mERvcyQDK5LtE8zHsRb7LR6CbRoJ14ozdWVzTtYnpHLiNCi1RQRzgQ4a1Cr3aUwaQ/s320/nephi+ut.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQz9TbN9uv2Z8y1ykBWjoWbSarUkuRoCXHK9LldEFvvWUR5_YnZqpcVydxqxDG-NgHbvdRMXjUf92WoHu9FTrKzTNeI959RW4sZvFNXo7as9RxG2l-lW8H0VHDCaLO2Uc8hRMqUFneRg/s1600/eagle+mountain+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQz9TbN9uv2Z8y1ykBWjoWbSarUkuRoCXHK9LldEFvvWUR5_YnZqpcVydxqxDG-NgHbvdRMXjUf92WoHu9FTrKzTNeI959RW4sZvFNXo7as9RxG2l-lW8H0VHDCaLO2Uc8hRMqUFneRg/s1600/eagle+mountain+sign.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I miss my
dear little town of Nephi, so much, as I was sure I would, but only God could
have known how quickly I would become attached to this sweet place and these
wonderful people in Eagle Mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
we sold our house to the nice gentleman who bought it, I was expressing my
concern for the girls feeling like they belonged and he said to me then that I
would have no problem fitting in with the kind of attitude that I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew he was right, in a way, that I really could
be happy anywhere, if I chose to be, and I am, oh how much I am.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve decided
to smile when I meet a new person, and look them in the eye when they talk to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve taken part in Sunday School and
Relief Society when I should be feeling shy and I’ve decided to enjoy the
blessing of being so close to so many wonderful amenities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because that is what I can do and what I can
be responsible for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can choose to love
our Ward and become attached with every ounce of my being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can be excited about the good men who are
in our bishopric and I can look for the love that they show to the whole ward
and be grateful for their service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
watch the young mothers in our ward and remember when that was me and smile at
their children and be excited about all that I know that they are learning along
with their little ones and learn from their love and compassion and I can soak up
the warmth and the wisdom that the older sisters have to offer and listen so closely
to all that they have to say. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can laugh
at the constant incoming of well-wishers and family that stop by so regularly
and be grateful that we are so loved even when sometimes I just want to flop
onto the coach and relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can even
watch the men as they dig out the dirt for a foundation of a new house going in
across the street and be excited by the thought of a new neighbor to love and
the thrill of watching a new house being built from start to finish even if it
is kind of loud…I can choose to be excited instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can look
at Jason’s new calling that will take up so many crazy hours out of his week
and be grateful that Heavenly Father is giving him so much opportunity to serve
his people and be able to thank God a little more for all that he has given us
all the while he is learning and growing and becoming even more amazing than he
already is, even if that takes him away from the family a little more than I
would like…look at the great example he is for my children, especially my
little boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can choose a lot of things…even
things that are outside of my comfort zone and I can see the blessings in the
choices that I make.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcsAr2rqWWGt3qhwe4IoNueNQ-awL3PvgxAf6_9Lfr9lOjZGaz95SAkgn3sej3P8IoLAiyEwREaVwXZnim8KYFy4jke1iawDnon89awtaY5mOHqgY4OlORnomq54lbHVEMFIHTFzAwls/s1600/nephi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcsAr2rqWWGt3qhwe4IoNueNQ-awL3PvgxAf6_9Lfr9lOjZGaz95SAkgn3sej3P8IoLAiyEwREaVwXZnim8KYFy4jke1iawDnon89awtaY5mOHqgY4OlORnomq54lbHVEMFIHTFzAwls/s320/nephi.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh…I miss
you dear Nephi with all of my friends and even my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With your town celebrations and small schools
where every teacher knows and loves my children. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I miss the familiarity of knowing almost
everyone everywhere that I go and I miss the relationships that I have made
over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for helping to
build confidence in my children and in myself so that we can go into this new
adventure with our hearts fully into making the most of every moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCf9R4RaWujRQ8F2eFDezOKaqMhCVFxEjoZ2rjo15_VZ2eczUnEtZJbbsYrz5YIr5h2tXeYei6egFyEqRucXXBNnghl89FizTHs5HuNxHyho323G7bEExjZuTWpUqlLWzrkpG5ad_TnVU/s1600/eagle+mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCf9R4RaWujRQ8F2eFDezOKaqMhCVFxEjoZ2rjo15_VZ2eczUnEtZJbbsYrz5YIr5h2tXeYei6egFyEqRucXXBNnghl89FizTHs5HuNxHyho323G7bEExjZuTWpUqlLWzrkpG5ad_TnVU/s1600/eagle+mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCf9R4RaWujRQ8F2eFDezOKaqMhCVFxEjoZ2rjo15_VZ2eczUnEtZJbbsYrz5YIr5h2tXeYei6egFyEqRucXXBNnghl89FizTHs5HuNxHyho323G7bEExjZuTWpUqlLWzrkpG5ad_TnVU/s320/eagle+mountain.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> <span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And…thank
you Eagle Mountain for making me feel already so much at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have won my heart with your outstretched
arms and rolling hills and small town feel in a town that should feel too
large.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you
Nephi 10<sup>th</sup> Ward for teaching my children and loving our family and
helping me find the woman that I am today, the woman who is so excited for this
next phase.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you
Liberty Farms Ward, for scooping us up and grabbing us right in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love you already even if we can’t remember
all of your names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting in Sacrament Meeting
Sunday I couldn’t help but know that this is where we belong, that you are now
who we belong too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And thank
you Heavenly Father, for planning out the little details so far in advance that
we didn’t even know that you had planned the path out ahead of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for taking the wheel and navigating
when you already knew the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here’s to
being happy because I choose to, making friends because I can if I want to, and
falling in love once again with all of the beauty all around me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-12389759718924987222015-06-15T15:35:00.002-06:002015-08-08T11:17:30.429-06:00Pure Craziness<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Craziness seems to follow me almost everywhere lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Putting our house for sale in March seemed to
start the “Madness.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know those
little prompts in your head that speaks to you so clearly no matter how
softly?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seem to haunt you if you don’t
know how to look at them correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, they started itching at me about five years ago, just about the
time that Jason’s job transferred him back to Utah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything was perfect, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband was finally home, my children were
adjusting to life in normal, finally, and I was happy wife and mother who
couldn’t have asked for a more perfect life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So why was it that those little promptings had to come?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I knew then that Jason driving over 70 minutes one way to
work was ridiculous, but I loved our life in Nephi, we all loved our life in
Nephi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enough said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even Jason said so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew how much my house, my yard and my
ward family meant to me and to the children, it would be all right for him to
drive all that way and spend all that time on the road away from his life if it
meant keeping us happy, and somehow all of us were content with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until a couple of years later at a recommend
interview with a very Intune priesthood holder that the promptings stopped
whispering and started speaking louder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You need to move,” he said matter of factly in the middle
of our pleasant conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jason
needs to be part of your family again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Take the next few years and get your finances in order and then you need
to move.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now you may ask what it was that he knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely Jason and I should get the promptings
for our own family, but sometimes God sends someone to awaken you when you have
been sleeping through those little whispers that he has been sending.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I knew when this man said that, that God had been trying to
tell me that all along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what did I
do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried a little…of course I did, I
had the perfect life and God’s little detour was going to disrupt that, but
then I smiled because I love Jason oh so much and the thought of him being
around more, being part of the family more, having time to love me more, well
how could I not smile about that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">So our plans started and miracles came to help us pay off
some debt and pay down our house a little and put money away for the time when
it came to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the last three
years March 15<sup>th</sup> of 2015 sat in our heads of when to put the house
for sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>December 2014 came and I
mapped out what I would have to do at the start of the new year to be ready to
sell in a few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prayers came to
ask for guidance both for our family and for the family that would buy our
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kids were emotional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those that were normally tough were weak,
those that usually battled through emotional crisis poorly arise to the change
that was coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little manifestations
of God’s tender mercies seemed to fall on us so often that it left us with
little doubt that what we were doing was right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then came that little itch again, that one that this time I
was determined to listen to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hurry
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t wait until the middle of March
put your house up for sale in two weeks.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When you are in the middle of painting and cleaning and packing excess
away, the idea of moving up the listing of your house by two whole weeks seems
a little impossible, but we did and magically we were ready in time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it was prayers that we would know the
right house for us to buy when we stepped into it, that we would know that God
had sent us there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also were the prayers
that whomever was supposed to buy our house would know too that God had sent
them there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">4 ½ weeks later that man stepped through our door, looked at
me without going passed the front room and said, “Now I know why I kept feeling
like I needed to come look at your house, God has sent me here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I would like to say that from that point on the miracles
kept happening and everything went so smoothly, but it didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, the miracles kept coming, at such an
alarming rate it seemed to knock the wind out of all of us…but at the moment
the trials started too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked at so
many houses, all of which needed so much work, or just didn’t feel right, and I
couldn’t possibly see how leaving perfect little Nephi could ever be a happy
blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason was frustrated and
feeling guilty, the kids were terrified and horribly sad, and I was disappointed
to all get out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzX30xafYu6PKvLbmMU8nPcSX4WW8TIqcmGZWfMOepk_EtLyhtUGnFdBOxieUEJnZ4-pPenE8S0Dn0_nRS0DCC7yq01iwxPcCDcJacCc8NDM7z2jJzefGPZbV6RSOzf3bSiQeUb8NOlLA/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzX30xafYu6PKvLbmMU8nPcSX4WW8TIqcmGZWfMOepk_EtLyhtUGnFdBOxieUEJnZ4-pPenE8S0Dn0_nRS0DCC7yq01iwxPcCDcJacCc8NDM7z2jJzefGPZbV6RSOzf3bSiQeUb8NOlLA/s320/house.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then, a light flipped on at the very last moment of our
journey down the darkness that seemed to have no hope of lifting…a beautiful
big house, on the rolling hills of Eagle Mountain Utah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason and I both looked at each other as we
stepped through that front door and said, “This is it, God has sent us here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Offer was made and accepted…loan was secured, all that we
needed was the man who was buying our house’s loan to go through…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Days drug on, nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Oh, it would be coming, the loan officer would say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supposedly sometime next week was all that we
would be told, but then next week would come and nothing would happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally when we were down to the wire and we
had already extended the offer by two weeks, the call came that we would be
signing in two days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brilliant, or so we
thought until those two days went and the loan failed and a very sad man called
asking us to please wait and not sell our house to someone new while he tried
to get another loan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you do at
that point?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, you cry some more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you breath after all of the hysterics,
you get on your knees, and you ask your Heavenly Father what he wants of you,
no questions asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason and I agreed
to give the man one more shot knowing full well that our dream house would
probably go to someone else, but it would be okay because we were being patient
and trusting God, even though my heart still knew that that amazing home in
Eagle Mountain, that almost seemed to glow from the spirit guiding us there,
was meant to be mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to be
happy and not fear as I felt like my dream was being ripped away, and somehow I
was…I was happy and the fear completely melted away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God was in charge and he got to decide, not
me, not Jason, and certainly not the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Miracle of miracles was the call the next day…another loan
had been procured in just shy of 24 hrs. time and we were to sign on the house
the very next day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVWIpFrkZ9c4iSkH3nMKqdHhEb_KkEX4ZL3LvpiTC5jjhcBCUalbcTKxCRPfbROouE1CNaCKKy5X0uFF29-KnRLWoGb0Zs1LOtbVotUL8FS3yj41zjFt8pYFDL5HwYxBAqf89kkPmfgk/s1600/grad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVWIpFrkZ9c4iSkH3nMKqdHhEb_KkEX4ZL3LvpiTC5jjhcBCUalbcTKxCRPfbROouE1CNaCKKy5X0uFF29-KnRLWoGb0Zs1LOtbVotUL8FS3yj41zjFt8pYFDL5HwYxBAqf89kkPmfgk/s320/grad.jpg" width="239" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course then came the rush of moving and living with my
brother Cullen and his wife Annalee and their cute family for a week while we
waited for the owners of our new house to move out, and of course moving in
after all while the amazing Jen Jen graduated from high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throw in the fact that we play end of school
activities for about a million different schools throughout the state and
grad-night parties for more than I would like to count…it really was
craziness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And yet here I sit, trying to understand how I can share all
of this with all of you and let you see just a smidgen of the gratitude that I
feel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3q2M809BkesHb-no8oor8biiyNk6G_IIXo06M0-ByJo6Nv6y9eApouxmsBVpROtHZVmojDJT_FW341gLsnZDtyBBY-Q80uTiYyNH3k8OGuFuz-sIxNWO2vXC9UEghp9aOuWeHzeCvzqM/s1600/us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3q2M809BkesHb-no8oor8biiyNk6G_IIXo06M0-ByJo6Nv6y9eApouxmsBVpROtHZVmojDJT_FW341gLsnZDtyBBY-Q80uTiYyNH3k8OGuFuz-sIxNWO2vXC9UEghp9aOuWeHzeCvzqM/s320/us.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">This last weekend, five of my seven siblings and I took a
much needed retreat to Saint George without spouses or kids and just enjoyed
time to spend with one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much
fun, so much craziness, and so much of God’s love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Family…that has been the whole theme of my
whole life, even when I was a teenager and hadn’t realized it yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is what God was trying to give me when
he sent us here to Eagle Mountain, a chance for Jason to be more part of our
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is why we are here, my
friends, for those connections, and if you think God isn’t aware of you or
doesn’t care about you, all you have to do is look at that family that you were
either tossed into at birth, or you grabbed up along the way, and you can’t
help but feel that little bit of gratitude that I was talking about, because it
is always there waiting for us to offer it while we smile at the life…the
family that our Heavenly Father has given us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Pics from our Siblings Retreat..</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYqHIVeEpOwxHPnc28AggqXqhzcF-Dyn5zaMPQCwlxDwEfHRhVLCLnjKJnlcdb2mpekdWM9Njq1xwXszKJSiRzmPV5jqOOZsSLk1NOCkDlGwXz8gdR5QPy8vl9Drjc47KGupZKld6otQ/s1600/crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYqHIVeEpOwxHPnc28AggqXqhzcF-Dyn5zaMPQCwlxDwEfHRhVLCLnjKJnlcdb2mpekdWM9Njq1xwXszKJSiRzmPV5jqOOZsSLk1NOCkDlGwXz8gdR5QPy8vl9Drjc47KGupZKld6otQ/s320/crazy.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ever tried smiling while holding in your cheeks? Not a pretty picture...this is what it looks like.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmCq2m60lTJrfzy_20dmUSZUlX5PvZkGjcrKSR5qaYCKfZndzpSrBU6uZFHUPno-e-G7JO507a06lpX-fFIha4p97sRYX0AAvFnbKjgH0Neu_vAZmXbz1hMn_NixHh-ZKe8wGKgl2ZVc/s1600/cullen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmCq2m60lTJrfzy_20dmUSZUlX5PvZkGjcrKSR5qaYCKfZndzpSrBU6uZFHUPno-e-G7JO507a06lpX-fFIha4p97sRYX0AAvFnbKjgH0Neu_vAZmXbz1hMn_NixHh-ZKe8wGKgl2ZVc/s320/cullen.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cullen feigning sleep. Always the center of attention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX3mQZzhNH4FYjeYdp7mX0QkuTgLFZ1_fNQqklUthMLJFh3CibeBUK9R7-JD8BHEW14V1wMsUISmxgU0CdC8iT2G6Imiwsj-B9-kl0DhLUE-V9APGFWMs5jRIrN9bdBijjm44dGQODmk/s1600/brad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX3mQZzhNH4FYjeYdp7mX0QkuTgLFZ1_fNQqklUthMLJFh3CibeBUK9R7-JD8BHEW14V1wMsUISmxgU0CdC8iT2G6Imiwsj-B9-kl0DhLUE-V9APGFWMs5jRIrN9bdBijjm44dGQODmk/s320/brad.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Brad...fun as always.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyL8CCBW0GwTcn18i__H1FekQsSM87lvP2xiNhj6PTgaMcmWsurfVbJUXDBLN7aASVmKlNdQp_AjUaDK39cT3-mrwaWMIF7UAAkWucKaGTpN8gHY02FTlsvmiMxbIbARxPvNXLsPdzk8/s1600/trunk+troll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyL8CCBW0GwTcn18i__H1FekQsSM87lvP2xiNhj6PTgaMcmWsurfVbJUXDBLN7aASVmKlNdQp_AjUaDK39cT3-mrwaWMIF7UAAkWucKaGTpN8gHY02FTlsvmiMxbIbARxPvNXLsPdzk8/s320/trunk+troll.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jill the "Trunk Troll..." because that's what you do when you are out of seats in the Prius.</span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-63087036351511083142015-03-31T10:13:00.001-06:002015-03-31T10:13:22.496-06:00Very Loud, Very Public, Displays of Joy
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It blew my
mind last week as I read the story of the woman who stole the baby right out of
another woman’s belly, injuring the woman severely and killing the baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the world coming too?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then when I heard that she quite possibly
wouldn’t be convicted of murder because the baby wasn’t considered a viable
human being yet, I shuttered to wonder what our legal system was coming
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This following a year of brutality
and murder and political unrest and infidelity and naked celebrities bums
plastered all over the internet and part of me wanted to just scream, scream at
the top of my lungs, “It’s enough!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
today when I read about the bill in NYC that quite possibly could become law to
abort babies in third term, I was ready to throw in the towel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am, and will always be, anti-abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can judge me all you want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t care if the baby is only seconds into
its creation, unless God steps in to end the pregnancy on His own, it is never,
I repeat never alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some situations
are sad and horrible and I cannot even imagine the pain behind them, be
whatever they are, but that unfortunately can be life and it is never someone’s
right, no matter how sad or hard or unplanned or inconvenient to decide for another
human being, just barely a few cells splitting or 50 years into mortality whether
or not they are a mistake or should live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is only, only up to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That being said, even those people who believe in early term abortion
have got to see the wrong in this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
you have to inject a fetus’ heart with poison to kill it before delivering it,
because if you delivered that baby at that time it would almost always live on its
own, without the help of anything, that is murder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one, not even those who believe in
abortion can say any differently without all out lying.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.techmalak.com/startling-new-abortion-bill-approved-by-the-new-york-house/">http://www.techmalak.com/startling-new-abortion-bill-approved-by-the-new-york-house/</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylWrSIW5W_6Yr_E7CAIUQUT7QpsjlO5lAt3SDVg3zQzqpmp5t218AIbUpE7sKZwBrdgQgH007Bn5UdaYcanv-vIyM61stEhLDQiQnS1jLI_WTy51LyzhpvckC89itUfqVxLP5LSbZmHg/s1600/earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylWrSIW5W_6Yr_E7CAIUQUT7QpsjlO5lAt3SDVg3zQzqpmp5t218AIbUpE7sKZwBrdgQgH007Bn5UdaYcanv-vIyM61stEhLDQiQnS1jLI_WTy51LyzhpvckC89itUfqVxLP5LSbZmHg/s1600/earth.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So where
does the world go now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look back at my
childhood and see the things, hard things, evil things that were coming
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom would talk about how much
easier of a time it was for her as a child than we had it then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve watched my kids and thought the same
thing, “Wow, it was so much easier of a time for me when I was a kid,” but as
swiftly as things change and as horribly as wickedness spreads, it spreads even
faster than years of past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When one
pebble rolls and a piece of mud clings to it, it slowly gets larger, as another
roll in the mud grabs hold it grows larger still, as this great big ball of mud
gains speed and proportion it grows faster still, and the time will come when
there is more mud to be seen than green spots of grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow will be even harder for my children
than today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No longer is each generation
growing in wickedness but each year is, and soon it will be each month is, then
each day, then hour, until I wonder if anything will be shocking any more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXq3VUNu3S0dIRD1aHeC4PH0WIzsbwSO-PFq3sHRSAUtIS271DVIModSXWpQ4Qykb8UxKakHpi_2Qj2MU9zyZ22GWS8uashZLlBWOAr0FTC8_SIbLF2mxC6cHNHalcwYPVlD1BPJlWs-w/s1600/christ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXq3VUNu3S0dIRD1aHeC4PH0WIzsbwSO-PFq3sHRSAUtIS271DVIModSXWpQ4Qykb8UxKakHpi_2Qj2MU9zyZ22GWS8uashZLlBWOAr0FTC8_SIbLF2mxC6cHNHalcwYPVlD1BPJlWs-w/s1600/christ.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When can
Christ come?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When can the world end, and
burn, and renew and only goodness rein?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When oh when?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it is
soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than it has ever been it is
soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You cannot look around you and see
the great sin and immoral acts that are condoned and even celebrated as they
are in the world today and not know that it is soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How I look forward to that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But soon, to a world that has been thousands
of years in the making may or may not be in my lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is a couple hundred years to
thousands?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot give in to waiting,
because that great tomorrow when finally the world can let out a big sigh of
relief when finally sin is wiped away may not quite be my tomorrow, but the
Lord’s in His own eternal timeline of things tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so, I, in all the stress and turmoil and
unrest of today, will find joy, even if only in my own home, and I, in all the
stress and turmoil and unrest of today, will do all I can to spread that joy to
others in the horrible, but still beautiful, world around me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You see, Satan
most certainly has not thrown in the towel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heck no!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has amped up his
workout and I will do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
doesn’t want me to be sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Men are that
they might have joy,” and that doesn’t say, “Except in the last days when the
world will be too wicked and neighbor will hurt neighbor and leaders will
destroy nations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it will be too
hard and then Men are that they might suffer through it all and know that only
when the world ends and Christ comes again can Men be that they might have joy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, Men are that they might have joy, even
now, especially now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can laugh,
and smile and giggle even with all the horrible that is and I can smile at a
complete stranger and share a pleasant conversation with the man or woman at
the checkout line, or passing on the sidewalk, or at a job that I have never
met before and brighten their moment a little even if the person behind me is
cussing and swearing up a storm, because I can be that little light in that
storm that brings about that “Men are that they might have joy,” if even just
for a moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last night,
Jason, Jenny, Nan and I went out to grab a quick bite to eat after Miss Nephi
practice and the run through of sound that Jason does for that for the last
several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a very busy week
last week with uncountable amount of gigs in the books and a million other
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all running very low on
sleep for four or five days now and throw in the stress that is in our home
with trying to sell said home, and as we all sat down at a table at our local
Burger King, it was like a huge stalled breath was released and for a moment
all stress just washed away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I giggle
thinking back to those very unfortunate people in Burger King who had to listen
as the craziness that is our giggle fest and days story telling fest and silly
memory retelling fest unfolded in a very public place such as that, but it was
amazing how suddenly everything was alright again, and even more, happy again
as we took a moment to set cares aside, and laugh as a family, loud and disturbing
as we might have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure all of
those patrons will go home and tell their tale of woe, of how they had to give
up a peaceful meal to listen to that crazy redheaded family giggle and laugh
with one another, but I assure you, that joy was much needed and the stress had
to be let to wash away at that time more than anyone could ever know but us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I felt it
then, and I will try to understand it more in others as I maybe see the little
bit of commotion, joyful commotion, that maybe from time to time needs to seep
out in very public places, and hopefully I will remember last night and instead
of rolling my eyes, hopefully I will smile with them and understand their need
to find joy in and amongst the evil stressful world that we live in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And if you
were there last night, trying so desperately to eat a peaceful meal at a little
town that you passed through on your way home, hopefully you too will smile and
know that we were just grabbing a little bit of joy along our stressful way and
hopefully you will find some joy in your day in remembering ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if tomorrow comes and it feels too hard
and part of you wants to sigh, while the other part of you wants to cry, grab
someone next to you, smile with them, laugh with them, forget your stress just
for a moment, and you might be surprised just how much joy you have shared with
them along your way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-43435813119268412692015-02-27T17:39:00.002-07:002015-02-27T17:41:49.255-07:00A good eyebrow wax and everything else that comes with it.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I know, I know, you are gonna put this on your blog right?”
that’s what my nine year old Sam said when I just had to record his karaoke
with my phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t smiling when he
said this, in fact he looked as if he had resigned himself to the inevitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now this is the part where you wait on pins
and needles to see all the glory that is Sam, but as a good mother I smiled and
said, “of course not, Boy,” (that is what we sometimes call him, Boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long family story that has to do with his
great grandfather Raymond,) “of course not, Boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just wanted it for me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me just say that you are missing out,
because surprisingly he’s really good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He hits every note perfectly and even puts some soul into it in a few
places.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So now what does this even leave me to talk about if I can’t
post a rockin’ video of my little boy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Waxing my eyebrows?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting my
home ready to sell, or giggling with my girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How about all three?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is something so amazing about freshly waxed eyebrows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I said it, there is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now you men may not understand this, but any
woman who has had a perfect eyebrow wax done, glorious pain and all, will tell
you that there is something magical about the results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well this was exactly the case twice for me
in the last four and a half weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsmKkW3DXT-qDsG4wVhE-7xdtqRjp6rt5-B8CJBWPeVHMk7VZkacsYx6ni7oAH92zIUGybDyvqaVKQcvAhNPfpRrSpqVMXY2XlyDLHp0qTRUb2pDZJI0mkonDSHai1x6Gak9VOJLp33E/s1600/hot+wax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsmKkW3DXT-qDsG4wVhE-7xdtqRjp6rt5-B8CJBWPeVHMk7VZkacsYx6ni7oAH92zIUGybDyvqaVKQcvAhNPfpRrSpqVMXY2XlyDLHp0qTRUb2pDZJI0mkonDSHai1x6Gak9VOJLp33E/s1600/hot+wax.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It all began with my first time showing my girls how to wax
their eyebrows, comical to say the least, followed by mad woman spending three
weeks trying desperately to declutter our house and paint my bedroom, bathroom
and hall and hall bathroom all to get our house ready to go on the market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Followed up by the wonderful agony of the hot
wax.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So…Jenny and Nan have been bugging me to wax their eyebrows,
always asking me just after I have put the wax away and cleaned up for the
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally they caught me before the
cleanup, and the party began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve spoken
in the past about our crazy family dinners with loud talking, crazy
conversation, and incessant giggles, well, direct that toward one redheaded
girl laughing at the other redheaded girl as the little tiny hairs of their
inside brow is pulled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Magic, I tell
you, and definitely another highlight of my day to chalk up in the Gibson
history books along with all the other craziness that is a large, very noisy,
very outgoing family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was priceless,
and of course Nan had to record the crazy of it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See it here…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=715576185229459&set=o.131456070267203&type=2&theater">https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=715576185229459&set=o.131456070267203&type=2&theater</a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We still talk about it several weeks later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact when I called Nan a few minutes ago
to ask her if she still had the video she couldn’t stop laughing, and Jenny who
was busy driving their truck that they were both in on the way to the movies
only sighed in the background and started laughing too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a rather strange home, I’ve decided,
and we are rather comfortable about talking and laughing and discussing rather
strange things that normal people would probably just raise one eyebrow and
shake their heads at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am glad that
we all feel that comfortable around one another and that comfortable in our own
skins, and if that’s strange, well, so be it, I rather like our strange but
funny life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9I4gP3Eq2w8SQG4RA5MwHk0RKDbZfLofpVURnZ6gdrfiw33BTiFtdcJqkMVbHa-g8C_xG1_4OfnnZ3VExmO2AgdjNEQV37zJWB-j_wEctNk3vkNzXYX4mIVPLPoe-z1ciBjBYfIQtWo/s1600/caveman5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9I4gP3Eq2w8SQG4RA5MwHk0RKDbZfLofpVURnZ6gdrfiw33BTiFtdcJqkMVbHa-g8C_xG1_4OfnnZ3VExmO2AgdjNEQV37zJWB-j_wEctNk3vkNzXYX4mIVPLPoe-z1ciBjBYfIQtWo/s1600/caveman5.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then came the next few weeks of me cleaning every corner,
rearranging every closet, running to the dump about five millions times by
myself and with my kiddos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Furniture
strewn throughout the house in awkward places as I painted our bedroom with the
help of my awesome mom, plastic covering the carpet, tape protecting vanity
mirrors, and paint on my clothes, under my nails, in my nose and throughout the
whole entire head of my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does
this have to do with waxing my eyebrows?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well let me tell you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do them
very regularly, every two and a half weeks, my hair grows like a weed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact when I go get my hair on my head dyed
and cut every three months people ask me if I’m growing it out and then when I
get it cut, into the exact same cut mind you, they tell me that they like the
new hair style that I got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That being
said, four weeks of fingers in paint and cleaning closets and running to the
dump led to no time for messy hot wax and lots of time for bushy caveman
eyebrows to grow in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4wwqCtNrso6p1Cg7n0zlOoC6kx4WUiH13AgUTGnDJUOuFUMrR7xotnUwkBJKYszuJgYQpUQ5sVX1xtg0k_sE0M3JnDMCt1VODseMygTu0aeNM2PIc9G16oHgEm7GxGCweklAU64VvHs/s1600/brows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4wwqCtNrso6p1Cg7n0zlOoC6kx4WUiH13AgUTGnDJUOuFUMrR7xotnUwkBJKYszuJgYQpUQ5sVX1xtg0k_sE0M3JnDMCt1VODseMygTu0aeNM2PIc9G16oHgEm7GxGCweklAU64VvHs/s1600/brows.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So when the house finally went up on the market a few days
ago, and in my spotless wonder of a house I finally had time to wax, I came to
realize just how much I like the face that smiles back at me in the mirror that
I had forgotten and even lost under those crazy bushy brows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned a few things about the beauty routine that so many
of us woman put ourselves through, and as much as I hate the time of it all
like the rest of you ladies, I must say that there is something gloriously
empowering about the whole concept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
not one of those feminist who scream foul and want to go more casual on the
grooming tips like a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like basking
in femininity while I get all messy and dirty doing in some cases what might
appear like a man’s job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And why is
that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because it does several things for
me, two of which are “priceless” as the saying goes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of which, probably the most important, is
it lets me connect with my girls in a way that only women can understand,
laughing and teasing and sharing beauty tips even though I am more than twenty
years older than them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the other
thing it does for me…at the end of a busy, messy, even paint spilled in the
hair kind of a day, I can look in the mirror and feel like a million bucks even
though all I spent was a little time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pretty superficial maybe, but important none the least, especially the
giggling and connecting with my girls part of it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, yes, that is how, and why I can write a whole blog post
on waxing my eyebrows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You didn’t know
what to expect when you started this, did you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And right now you are probably asking yourself why you wasted the last
few minutes of your day reading this, but I’m telling you, if that is what you
are thinking, then come on over to my house and let my girls and I show you
just what a good brow wax can do for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-11951476624552530802015-01-26T12:42:00.002-07:002015-01-26T12:42:40.445-07:00Callie and the Looking GlassI wrote this little story several years back for one of the most amazing women that I have ever known, and she knows who she is, and for some reason it has been on my mind as of late. So today I am going to share it, in it's unedited version.<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Callie and the
Looking Glass<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once upon
time there was a little girl who lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of a
large kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every morning when she
rose she would stand on her front step and look at the beautiful castle on the
tallest hill in the kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was grander
and more beautiful than anything else in all the valley, with its white pillars
reaching heavenward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A great king lived
in that castle and he ruled the large kingdom with wisdom and patience beyond
any other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
loved to stand and imagine what it would be like to live in such a place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie was a quiet girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her face was scared and ugly from an accident
years before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she was but a baby
her little home had been lost to a fire, and in the heat and flame that
engulfed the little house Callie nearly lost her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But her mother with the strength that only
mothers can have, ran back into the burning cottage and saved her infant
daughter from the death that surely awaited her there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her mother had given her own life to save
Callie and Callie was reminded every time that she looked into the mirror of
the woman who had died for her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
neighborhood boys would tease and torment Callie, never letting her forget the
horror that was streaked across her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As she grew older she grew more remote and sullen, staying quietly to
her home and as far away from other’s stares as she could.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie’s
father was bitter too, missing his wife horribly and being reminded of what he
lost that day every time that he looked at his daughter’s face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he never meant to blame her, his
bitterness grew with the years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
dreamed of traveling to the beautiful castle and meeting the great king that
lived there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was rumored that inside
the beautiful castle, locked in the highest room in the tallest tower, was a
magical looking glass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The looking glass
was told to hold a magic that could look into the beholder’s soul and tell of
the value of the life that stood before it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More than anything Callie dreamed of knowing the value of the solitary
life that she lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Every
morning Callie remained hidden, locked away in her little farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She milked the cows and tended their little
garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cleaned the house and cooked
the meals and stayed hidden far away from cruel eyes and wicked stares.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One morning
as Callie was finishing milking the little jersey cow out along the fence that
separated their little farm from the country road, an old woman stumbled along
its path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her face was tired and old,
her skin wrinkled and thin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salt and
peppered hair was falling messy out of a corkscrew bun and her clothes were
tattered and torn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked at Callie,
her tired eyes weak and sad, and in a soft crackled voice pleaded with Callie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m so
thirsty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps you could spare some of
your warm milk to wet my tired lips.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
looked down at the bucket, barely sloshing with what little milk the old jersey
cow could give and knew that it wouldn’t be wise to share what little they
had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Callie looked back at the old
woman, her back bent and her eyes begging, she couldn’t withhold what little
that she could give.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thank you,
thank you,” the woman whispered as once she sipped the last from Callie’s
ladle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please I must know your name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“CCCallie,”
Callie stammered shyly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My name is
Callie.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What a
beautiful name,” the woman spoke back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Callie means most beautiful as truly you are.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As the old
woman limped down the road Callie couldn’t help but to look down at her face in
the pale white milk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An ugly, scarred
face looked back at her, even more hideous than Callie had hoped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing had changed and surely the old lady
had been blind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Later that
day, after feeding her father and picking the grapes heavy on the vine, Callie traipsed
off toward the neighbor who lived down the lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Farmer Jones had just harvested the last of
his wheat and every year Callie traded her grapes for some of Farmer Jones’
grain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie looked down at the basket
in her hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grapes this year were
small and uneven, nothing like the years past, and she worried that he would
reject her offering completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On the way
to the farmer’s house Callie stumbled upon some boys up to mischief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they eyed Callie their attention went
from the poor little kitten that they were tormenting to Callie and almost
instantly the name calling began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie
tried to hide her hideous face behind her hands, but the boys kept on
teasing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon enough one of the boys
gathered some pebbles and started throwing them at Callie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dropped her basket and covered her head
and began to run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t long until
Callie was stumbling, falling in her haste to get away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she went down she thrust her hands out in
front of her to catch her fall, scuffing them and skinning her knees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just when
Callie had lost all hope, warm arms wrapped around her and a gentle voice
shewed the boys away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Let me
help you,” the kind voice said and Callie looked up into the eyes of a broken
and shattered man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>From the
top of the man’s shaggy brown locks to the bottom of his holey shoes the man
was covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He smiled kindly at Callie, his teeth brown and many missing and Callie
tried to keep from turning away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
you,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How can I ever repay
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The man
handed Callie the basket that she had dropped and looking at her grapes hungrily
asked, “May I have a few for my dinner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am so hungry and it has been so long since I remember eating, and your
grapes look so appetizing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
shrunk knowing that to give him even a little of the grapes that were already
so lacking would take away any hope she had of bartering with Farmer Jones, but
she couldn’t turn the man away when he had done so much for her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank
you,” the man said when at last he licked the last of the grape juice from his
lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I will forever remember you my beautiful
deliverer, in my heart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As he
turned walking away briskly, Callie looked down at the basket in her
hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where once the pitiful harvest of
grapes had been now sat a basket over flowing with magnificent giant, purple
grapes, certainly Farmer Jones would repay her generously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Callie
arrived home that afternoon it was to find her father packing the wagon and
their little tired donkey for a journey into town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fall harvest had come and the village would
soon be a bustle with farmers and their wares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every year Callie’s father went to town to try and sell off the
abundance from their garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year
Callie had sat at home praying for a good market for her father.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Pack a
change of clothes, Callie Girl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Me?”
Callie asked, looking toward town and the beautiful castle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of course
you,” he grumped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Instead of standing
there and dreaming of a life you don’t have, you could come and help me to
provide for the one that you do have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie was
afraid to go into town in front of all those people with her scarred and ugly
face, but she was even more afraid to anger her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trip was long and night seemed to come on
early but before morning even had a chance to awake they were arriving in
town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through sleepy eyes Callie helped
her father set up their tent and arrange their wares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While their first costumer was bartering with
Callie’s father she was setting up their meager breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nature had not been good to their family this
year and there was not much at their scant table for the two of them to
eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that they could spare was at
market to bring in what little they needed to heat their cottage and feed their
animals through the winter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As Callie
laid out the last cracked plate little eyes stared up at her from behind the
table’s wobbly legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little boy, no
bigger than four or five looked up at her, his blue eyes large and sunken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His legs were thin and wobbly and his
tattered night shirt torn and stained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His bare toes stood out dirty and callused and Callie knew even before
he opened his mouth the pleading that would come.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Please,”
was all that he said with big tears tugging at the corners of his eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
loaded up her breakfast, dried bread and salted butter, and wrapped it in a
faded linen napkin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she placed it in
the young boy’s hands he wrapped his arms loosely around her and kissed her
hand gratefully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you,
Beautiful Princess,” he said as he stumbled away, his hand clinging tightly to
Callie’s breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That night,
after a long day at market Callie and her father slipped down for the evening, their
tired bodies struggling to sleep under the majesty of the great castle that
loomed above them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie closed her
eyes imagining that she was there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
stomach growled and she wished that she had saved something for herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her father tossed and turned beside her,
unable to sleep with the knowledge of the failure that the day had been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If only,”
Callie wished but instead of in her head the words had drifted to the empty
space between her father and herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If only
what?” her father asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If only
what?” he said again more commanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If only we
lived in that great castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If only we
didn’t have to worry or starve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If only
I could get just one glimpse of the magic mirror tucked away in the tallest
tower.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie knew
almost as soon as the words left her mouth the trouble that she had
caused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her father jumped to his feet
almost instantly despite his weariness and was swiftly yanking Callie to her
feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Go,” he
yelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See what happens when you get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All your life you spend dreaming but you do
nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go and see if anything
changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re ugly Callie and you
don’t need a magic mirror to tell you that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You will always be the ugly reminder of what I lost.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She knew
the moment that he said those awful words that he regretted it, but still
Callie could not erase the meaning behind the pain her father held.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stumbled through the night, wandering
almost blinded by her tears, and she could hear him calling after her, an
apology almost innocent and sweet, but he didn’t bother to stumble behind her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The large
castle, magnificent and magical, seemed to dazzle as it stood before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie wiped the tears from her eyes, though
they had left a salted path in the dust on her face, and wiped the travels from
her skirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With trembling hands Callie
knocked on the door turning almost instantly to crawl silently away into the
night when suddenly the door opened throwing brilliant yellow light out across
the darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tall man stood
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had soft brown waves and a neatly
trimmed beard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blue eyes as clear as a
mountain stream smiled back at her kind and understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was robed from top to bottom in a gown of
whitest silk and his feet were clothed in the softest leather sandals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Finally,”
he said to her, reaching out and drawing her in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It took you longer than I thought to get
here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Callie
looked around her at the enchanting room she stood in confused by his meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every corner of the room was white and
perfect, from its plush carpet to its overstuffed furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ve
come to see,” was all that the great king said, but Callie knew what he
meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pointed to a winding staircase
paved in shimmering white marble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But
know this, once you look you will never be able to unsee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once you see the value that I see in your
soul you will never be able to forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some say it haunts them until the day that they die, but,” he said with
a twinkle to his smile, “others say it brings them the peace that this world
could never bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you sure?” he
asked her and Callie only nodded her head nervously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Then,” he said giving her a gentle nudge,
“no time better than now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The trip up
the winding stairs seemed to drag on for eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thumping behind Callie’s heart seemed to
beat harder with every step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Callie
struggled to turn the gold doorknob at the end of the stairs her hands were
slippery from perspiration and fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
door slid open smoothly revealing a large empty room, from top to bottom as
white and as pure as the rest of the castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The only thing to be found at all in the empty room was a large white
oval mirror draped across an elegant stand and standing gracefully in the far
corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Callie inched her way to it,
wary of what she might find.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As she
stood in front of it, Callie locked her eyes tightly until she could gain the
nerve to peek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She opened her eyes
slowly and examined the image in the mirror carefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A beautiful woman, with soft blond curls and
beautiful almond eyes smiled back at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her skin was clear and smooth, her long willowing body elegant and
poised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood with grace and
character and splendor beyond any woman that Callie had ever seen. As Callie
reached forth her hand she felt it touch lightly on the cool glass, and as she
looked behind her, she realized that no one was in the room but herself, that
no one else was reflecting in the mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She turned her head once again upon
the mirror and once again she saw the beautiful woman in the glass, but this
time a man stood behind her in Callie’s reflection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The great king of the castle placed his hands
on the woman’s shoulders, and as he did Callie felt his warm hands grip softly
to her shoulders too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she turned
around there were questions in her eyes and the king smiled lovingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Do you not see, Callie the most
beautiful?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is you in the mirror, the
way that I truly see you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not see
the scars that you see, only the beauty of the scars that your mother so
perfectly left behind on the day that she saved you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No greater love hath any man than I for you
and no greater love had your mother either than for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Why?” Callie asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why do you love me so much?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“For I was
a <a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/matt/25/35a" title="TG Poor."><span style="color: windowtext;">hungered</span></a>, and ye <a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/matt/25/35b" title="TG Almsgiving; TG Generosity."><span style="color: windowtext;">gave</span></a>
me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a <a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/matt/25/35c" title="TG Hospitality; TG Strangers."><span style="color: windowtext;">stranger</span></a>,
and ye took me in.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Matthew 25:35)<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“When,
Lord?” she asked. “When did I feed you and give you drink?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The king
bent forward and raised her chin slightly in his hand, smilingly softly down at
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came clearly into her view then
and she knew him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had seen him many
times in the past several days, although each time he had taken on a different
form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew him now for who he really
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was in the old broken woman and
the tired lost man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was even in the
tiny hungry child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gently turned her
back to the woman in the mirror and as Callie looked upon herself, for it truly
was her, she knew that she would never be able to see her reflection again
without remembering the true one that was inside, Callie the most beautiful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-19832661142281764332015-01-24T13:45:00.000-07:002015-01-24T13:54:22.287-07:00A Little More Booty to Hold at Night<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkUd-iDqO1mAPmwk68IRY4aRBm6IJC050IKuKIFGgr7DOoIsE0dfhqL1pw8_APNssXjzaP0J_huooaFu7keRXgSGFhPBk3_et3c2XzwWU6qTMUko6e-qYuhy6WPIqacKwuY88U7TprG4/s1600/Kate-Davis.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkUd-iDqO1mAPmwk68IRY4aRBm6IJC050IKuKIFGgr7DOoIsE0dfhqL1pw8_APNssXjzaP0J_huooaFu7keRXgSGFhPBk3_et3c2XzwWU6qTMUko6e-qYuhy6WPIqacKwuY88U7TprG4/s1600/Kate-Davis.png" height="167" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s no
surprise that in the background while I was washing dishes after lunch that I
had the song, All about that Bass, playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kinda the Gibson moto around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jason ran to a friends with Suzy and Sam to help him with some home theatre
issues, Jen and Nan are off on their date to Snowcoming and Stephanie is in the
other room watching Netflix, so not a whole lot to distract me around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually thought about the words to that
song more closely this time, go figure, and if you don’t know the song there are
plenty of places where you can go to listen to it…I actually prefer this one…. <a href="http://youtu.be/iyTTX6Wlf1Y">http://youtu.be/iyTTX6Wlf1Y</a> the
singer’s voice reminds me of my cute Jenny’s bluesy vocals.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">She talks
about not being a size two but how she can shake it shake it like she’s
supposed to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know, I know, I am
only a few days away from 40, but I can shake it shake it too like I’m supposed
to do and at that moment I was shaking it shaking it like I’m supposed to do and I
smiled when I thought that if the girls were to walk in right then they would blush
and say, “Mom, you’re too old to dance like that,” and if Jason were home he
would come up and grab my bum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, I
probably embarrassed all of them by admitting that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The song
talks about photo shop and how that’s not real and it talks about boys liking a
little more booty to hold at night, having all the right junk in all the right
places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where am I going with this, you
ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was listening to it all it was like some
light bulb popped on above my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
can Heavenly Father through the Holy Ghost use a stupid rock song to speak to
me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer is yes and he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grant it, the version that I listed above is
a much cleaner version than the original, no swearing aloud, but the picture is
the same either way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Age is
catching up with me, and I don’t mind it, really I don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mind the white hairs that keep coming
back, I don’t mind the wrinkles popping up around my eyes and between my nose,
I don’t even mind that my body is much stiffer and sorer after a hard workout
than it used to be when I was younger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What I do mind is the fact that I am fifteen pounds heavier than I was
seven years ago even though I workout harder than I ever have and eat about 500
calories less than I used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
sometimes I wonder how Jason can think that I am sexy and even if he does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was while listening to this song that I
realized how crazy I am to even wonder this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And here is why…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jason is
always taking a quick grab here and there, holding me a little longer than
needed when he comes home at night, giving my bum a quick goose when no one is
looking unless it’s our kids and then he doesn’t care if they see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I get undressed he locks the door so he
can watch and when I pop into the shower he is always pulling back the curtain
to get a quick look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cuddles up to me
at night and wraps me tightly against him and he plays with my hair when we are
watching t.v. together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He calls me sexy
baby stubs, and gorgeous and hot stuff and tells me maybe nine million times a
day how sexy or gorgeous or hot I am, so why would there ever be any question
whether or not he thinks me sexy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I
know that you all, all of you married ladies out there, know exactly what I am
talking about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslh7w43xJ5Fb3jfyfBi3CMpVPYKt03Xy1-VtPnjIj9j3hiNbTlrHlIdSv2XlBQq9Z_NQqfCByRDr44P5pwPwT2z9Ab_Ke2cbzgMxHluOvrzYdwULWFc6-GFwnat7_64iaMb945m4GBDw/s1600/me+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslh7w43xJ5Fb3jfyfBi3CMpVPYKt03Xy1-VtPnjIj9j3hiNbTlrHlIdSv2XlBQq9Z_NQqfCByRDr44P5pwPwT2z9Ab_Ke2cbzgMxHluOvrzYdwULWFc6-GFwnat7_64iaMb945m4GBDw/s1600/me+2.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why does
Satan have such a hold onto women’s self esteem? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I’m not a size two or even a size eight
like some of you very beautiful woman out there are, but I am a size Angi, and
that seems to be beautiful all in itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some curves I would love to do without, but some of the curves I have…well
I wouldn’t be willing to give them up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have beautiful thick hair and big grey eyes that sparkle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My smile is contagious and my body is almost
as strong as a man’s which is very important in the Gibson household with the
line of work that we are in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smile all
the time and laugh a lot which ads a special kind of softness to my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look like my mom who is BEAUtiful and have
the coloring of my dad which means I can tan up all soft and brown easily in
the summer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to be careful when I
lift too much weight during workouts or I might bulk up a little too much
around my shoulders and neck, but my amazing body can put on muscle like
nothing at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a flat
tummy but I have a perfectly shaped belly button thanks to the doctor who
reshaped it during a hernia surgery when I was six.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My waist isn’t as tiny as I would like but my
big boobs and curvy hips help make it seem small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a tiny turned up nose, but it is
slender and dignified and gives me an air as if I know something a little more
than I actually do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And last but not
least, my butt is rounder than I would like but it is still perky even after 40
years and attached to the longest pair of legs that go all the way to the
ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">See what I
am getting at here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of that makes up
Angi, me, and I’m pretty awesome…and here is the secret…YOU ARE TOO!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you have any question about it, pay a
little more attention to all of the signals that your sweetie is giving you,
heck write them down with a check mark all day long as you are with him if you
need to and I think you will be surprised all of the sexiness that he thinks
that you are and then when Satan says that you’re not a size two or that you
don’t have all the right junk in all the right places you can tell him that he
is crazy and that he can go find some other sexy lady to harass, cuz we all
know that “Guys like a little more bootie to hold at night,” and quick frankly
being you, small and tiny, tall and willowy, round and curvy, elegant and
graceful, or clumsy but spunky, whichever you may be is the perfect you and
that in itself is sexy and you…yes you my dear are everything that that word
means and if you don’t believe me, well….just go ask your hubby.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-74940312026621147532015-01-08T11:02:00.001-07:002015-01-08T11:02:13.934-07:00Biggest Tip Ever!!
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In our line
of work, the Gibson Family that is, it is not uncommon to receive a small tip
beyond the set price for a job well done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And when that happens I am always grateful, as I was last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were able to go to the Little America
Hotel and play a company party and set up our photo booth also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people were so nice and we made some new
connections for other gigs in the future that I was so grateful for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t help but think that God had led us
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if that had been it, that
would have been enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pleasant
night, pleasant people, nice income and new connections, but sometimes when you
think everything is just as good as it can get, well, sometimes God gives you
even more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwlIZ7GjVFAHHp1-gHRjcWRj1nL2N0rnpcGKqOXYXznK0VHklU9LvnUun-YLMUUExRy5er6OkAaCeyIUN1a5EdgVo9i3iPM0A6kfIJvkeEIObR-J_cQvUQH-d2GlVrSYA3d2vuP95PEM/s1600/sport+court.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwlIZ7GjVFAHHp1-gHRjcWRj1nL2N0rnpcGKqOXYXznK0VHklU9LvnUun-YLMUUExRy5er6OkAaCeyIUN1a5EdgVo9i3iPM0A6kfIJvkeEIObR-J_cQvUQH-d2GlVrSYA3d2vuP95PEM/s1600/sport+court.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last night’s
gig was for a company called Sport Court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They create all kinds of professional flooring for gyms, tennis courts,
basketball courts, you name it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
also create portable floors for outside sports or inside sports, even portable
dances floors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, in our line of work
we come in contact with the dance floor variety all of the time and in our
twenty plus years on the job I have seen some beautiful floors, but the one
that they had brought last night for Jason to set up sound behind was one of
the most beautiful floors that I have ever seen. Here is their link to their site. <a href="http://www.sportcourtwest.com/">http://www.sportcourtwest.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVcHdIHss2p-glzfofBc0hB0Z9n32AmLmoz7HYFL_1IJGa78qNJqqpvOIihdmIam2Fh_ds6LM8zi5abHO1uwof4ThzpE1h5hfVoHK6pydtcK046dATqo3hp_CPt1iwyPBryD_EV7BEtI/s1600/floor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVcHdIHss2p-glzfofBc0hB0Z9n32AmLmoz7HYFL_1IJGa78qNJqqpvOIihdmIam2Fh_ds6LM8zi5abHO1uwof4ThzpE1h5hfVoHK6pydtcK046dATqo3hp_CPt1iwyPBryD_EV7BEtI/s1600/floor.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we
first arrived there, the location of the floor was a little too close to where
Jason needed to set up, so they unsnapped a section of the floor, pulled it to
the other end of the dance area and snapped it back together in the most
amazing set up that I have ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ingenious actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
commented that in our line of work that we really should get us one of their
floors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even took the time while they
were eating their dinner just before it was our turn to start, to look them up
so that someday, maybe when other things for the business didn’t need to be
bought, we could save towards getting us one of those ingenious floors.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long story
short…the party went smashing, everyone had a great time and we had a great
time, meeting good people and doing what we do best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they pulled down the floor that night,
those awesome Sport Court people, they commented on how tired they were and how
much they didn’t want to bring the floor home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A few minutes later they came back into the room and asked Jason if he
had a way to get the floor home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course Jason looked at me surprised and completely wondering answered her, “Yes,
we have a suburban.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you want
the floor?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just like
that…biggest tip we have ever received.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did I want to cry when she said that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact I felt a
little silly for feeling so like a weepy woman, but I don’t think they could
completely understand how huge that was for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So now Jason
and I and our business are the proud owners of the most beautiful portable
dance floor ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all of the
weddings and corporate gigs that we play that is a huge blessing given to us
from some absolutely amazing strangers that I will forever be grateful for.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes
over the past years in my married life, Jason and I have had some very hard
turns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After Luke was born and I was
sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After Jenny was born and she
nearly died and then she was so very sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When Jason’s dad died way too young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My parent’s divorce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason’s job
change and taking him away from us for a year while he was in Nevada and the
loneliness that came with it and the struggle too to pay our bills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But over the years there have been so many
good things too, more numerable than I can count so I will just name a very few…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our wedding
and honeymoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The birth of everyone of
our amazing children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenny living when
we thought she would die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenny getting
well finally after almost 3 years of her being ill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A new stepmom that I could love and a
different kind of relationship with both my parents that is more amazing than I
ever thought that it could be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason’s
new job, the one that he has had for the past several years being one that he
finds so much joy in and it sending him back to Utah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our business booming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My beautiful new daughter in law that brings
us such joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watching my son grow up and
Jenny coming so close and being so proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Having a new sort of closeness and peace in our home as our children
mostly grow up as friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And most of
all, Jason and I having the kind of marriage that I read about as a girl and
dreamt about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So close to perfect, even
with all the very imperfect things that happen and people that we are, that it
almost scares me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes
when all these good things happen I am only grateful, and only filled with so
much awe at my Heavenly Father, but other times, like last night, when I
already felt so blessed and then so huge of a gift was given to us I feel a
little guilty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely we have so much
that God couldn’t possibly give us more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Isn’t it our turn for a tragedy, even a little one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I know that that will come again, as it
always will, because this is Earth, and this is life, and sometimes it just has
to be hard, but I am beginning to learn that great times can come too and they
do come and sometimes a billion times more than you deserve, and it’s okay to
only be grateful and not to feel guilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s okay to say thank you without feeling undeserving, because
sometimes that’s just what God wants to give us and he doesn’t need a reason,
sometimes he can just say, “I am your Father, and today I wanted to bless you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaPq3IbDGcuK4dppNElCqpF2vUMnpEimujn9Ftyl-hdNe5oRn9LDnua9RT9_TEMbgDvhwk_SCe87kp5Xlfe8jVTpmslHjwvmiWo9TxVdEHhGXDxbtCg7BtrxnASPND8n9UgIb6vQNIVY/s1600/i_love_you_hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaPq3IbDGcuK4dppNElCqpF2vUMnpEimujn9Ftyl-hdNe5oRn9LDnua9RT9_TEMbgDvhwk_SCe87kp5Xlfe8jVTpmslHjwvmiWo9TxVdEHhGXDxbtCg7BtrxnASPND8n9UgIb6vQNIVY/s1600/i_love_you_hp.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And you
know, when those hard times come it’s that knowledge of Heavenly Father’s
extreme love for me that not only gets me through, but always helps me to be
happy even while I am sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it
is just okay to say, “Thank you, God, for loving me today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for reminding me that you are
there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-47602178224644697582014-12-07T19:21:00.001-07:002014-12-07T19:27:30.737-07:00I love you, I do!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPl1yVhjwElNyakCz3S79VhuZ0B9l-MQfmfmhb04oaxiOj9jTXay64wG4D-xtpV-_qcZaEFLsyrMn5wR8VorkahNG2xwYjxHXaALgXmtLzQsiBzaAEyKZxaJ4Wtr5QXjyUNE9egUOIrXI/s1600/world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPl1yVhjwElNyakCz3S79VhuZ0B9l-MQfmfmhb04oaxiOj9jTXay64wG4D-xtpV-_qcZaEFLsyrMn5wR8VorkahNG2xwYjxHXaALgXmtLzQsiBzaAEyKZxaJ4Wtr5QXjyUNE9egUOIrXI/s1600/world.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each and every one of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know all of the so many of you out
there all over the world that read my blog but I love you still the same?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can I possibly know that you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because every time that I look to see a post
that I have written and read where all of you have read it from all over the
world I smile from head to toe and I think that I might even shine a little
bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What else could do that than love?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJn8rFFM4lEifB9-pAQgK_hrU-ocgQmqkA-QBItK5gqRrXEkO07QqktjnmoSfB3FCRwBZsMdAaiW6Igmebf0LvmggebBeqOs6S0QdBWJa21eOyUXyN8-3psfIYREPRAoie9KYQT_Zw0z4/s1600/blogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJn8rFFM4lEifB9-pAQgK_hrU-ocgQmqkA-QBItK5gqRrXEkO07QqktjnmoSfB3FCRwBZsMdAaiW6Igmebf0LvmggebBeqOs6S0QdBWJa21eOyUXyN8-3psfIYREPRAoie9KYQT_Zw0z4/s1600/blogger.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You come from here at my home in the
United States, many that I know and don’t and from all over the world such as, Germany
and France, Ireland and Hungary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Russia,
the Ukraine, Iraq and Kuwait, the United Kingdom and Canada, the Philippines
and India, the Netherlands, Romania, South Korea and South Africa, Australia,
New Zealand and a great handful more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
wish I could call reference to you all of you but after a couple of weeks BlogSpot
sadly groups you all into an area of reference, a continent rather than an actual
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve even had some very small
areas that the Gibson household wasn’t quite sure where it was and of course I
looked it up on the trusted internet like you do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-QOpJ2DdBBonmo2O5ptueqATb-_Ag2RdwmRVpixOrbtZLufVPdOaIDBIgzm3TRGNa6M6XM-7PDc5K4whc3zIeu18xBEHQJzPKcuyQb_oI-sl-md8QUJk2dOT-e4cIsI7-W5dosLRGTk/s1600/moldova.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-QOpJ2DdBBonmo2O5ptueqATb-_Ag2RdwmRVpixOrbtZLufVPdOaIDBIgzm3TRGNa6M6XM-7PDc5K4whc3zIeu18xBEHQJzPKcuyQb_oI-sl-md8QUJk2dOT-e4cIsI7-W5dosLRGTk/s1600/moldova.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I now know where Moldova is, a beautiful
little country with lots of green and such beautiful architecture, right in the
middle of Romania and the Ukraine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
feel like I have been all over every beautiful little section of South America
and quite frankly the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And all of this I have done while sitting in front of my little computer
in my little bedroom googling all of you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, I think that I love you all so
very much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>During Stake Conference today our
theme was based around that first great commandment of all, “Love One Another.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it has gotten me thinking all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I think it is easier to love
someone that you don’t know, like all of you who make me smile from so far
away, than the very people who we see and interact with every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to change that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to see those people with Christ’s eyes
and with Christ’s heart instead of my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think if I did my heart would hurt with love inside of me it would be
so big. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a time where I
was asked to be of service for someone that I didn’t even know by someone that
I only knew through professional reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I gladly accepted the weekly obligation thrilled that Heavenly Father
had found a place for me to serve his children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Week after week I continued in this service that only took ten or
fifteen minutes out of my week once a week to do and I felt glad, but one day I
had a clarifying moment that took it to a new level for me that I had never had
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the last moment as I was
saying goodbye until next week to those younger members of this cute family that
I was able to help, my heart started pounding so fast that I thought it might
burst out of my chest and tears came unbidden to my eyes and for one brief second
it was as if I could feel the Savior’s love for them in my heart and His
thoughts in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I love them,” He
spoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank you for loving them for me
today.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJLxKNxDU_nrGywlgUrYOowceFhhw0YJ5HJYgz3EvCIboSJALhIvlmb7QY2UIWfuLXKwkE8PmNMGSRnF65gOJZOwup0PFazHx6lYvLoJHsvNGJpR8lh3LSu5mTnA8KOUFQ-oE7QjoC9E/s1600/christ's%2Blove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJLxKNxDU_nrGywlgUrYOowceFhhw0YJ5HJYgz3EvCIboSJALhIvlmb7QY2UIWfuLXKwkE8PmNMGSRnF65gOJZOwup0PFazHx6lYvLoJHsvNGJpR8lh3LSu5mTnA8KOUFQ-oE7QjoC9E/s1600/christ's%2Blove.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now, can I say that the very little,
literally only a matter of a few minutes every week that has come out of my
life, that I really have done near to nothing in helping that family, only the
slightest bit, but God did something in return by letting me feel His
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s moments like those that He
gives us, not for us to be some great help to our fellow man, though that is definitely
a very important part of it, but because He wants us to have little tastes of
the strength of His love for all of us so that we can strive one day to become just
like Him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My nine year old Sam said to me the
other day, “Mom, do you know what my favorite part about Christmas Eve is?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GUfrcobu_yAG_VRW0aGRKYnnkL-m5NeY4XoPGlmG9yt2Xg3JkaYg1R2Ed5Ocl05-o5x7q6yRbBGScPXB1YJP8LjPB-eSkEbGc9qGP0duwg63mAuL7At2Ksknh5eDHwesSE91KaE_ZYY/s1600/sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GUfrcobu_yAG_VRW0aGRKYnnkL-m5NeY4XoPGlmG9yt2Xg3JkaYg1R2Ed5Ocl05-o5x7q6yRbBGScPXB1YJP8LjPB-eSkEbGc9qGP0duwg63mAuL7At2Ksknh5eDHwesSE91KaE_ZYY/s1600/sam.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I instantly thought he would mention
our family tradition of opening all the family presents a day before most of
the rest of the world, or perhaps Papa’s house and potato soup, or even
Christmas Jammies at bed that night, but it wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I love that all of the kids sleep
in one room and we are all stuck together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s nothing better.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sometimes Sam drives his four bigger
sisters completely nuts, I think Steph puts up with him better than most, but
even though Sam is such a totally easy going mellow boy to get along with he is
still a boy in a houseful of girls and more times than not his teasing as all
little boys do tends to annoy them, but he’s right, each and every one of them
loves being stuck together in the same room on Christmas Eve.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sometimes the traditions that you
put together out of necessity and in this case sanity so Santa can sneak around
without getting caught, are really the things that draw a family together and
teach them all about that Christ Like Love that Heavenly Father shows us so we
can become just like His Son someday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So now when you go about your days
this week, whether you are out and about at work or nestled tightly at home
working your little tooshies off, remember that I love you, I do, and that most of
all Heavenly Father and His most perfect Son love you too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-50884084121208306572014-12-04T09:32:00.002-07:002014-12-04T09:35:55.347-07:00What Drives Us<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes
Facebook is so sensational that I don’t even want to look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other times you are stuck for so many hours
in the car with nothing to do that you can’t help but to thank your lucky stars
for that great invention, well…that and Pinterest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been getting tired of the share this and
share that attitude as of late, sure there actually is some blogs and some
recipes that I am so thrilled that people share, even a few of those too funny
cartoons, but mostly I would much rather see what is going on in your lives…yes
you…the people that I really love and care about not some crazy person that I
don’t know from some place that I will never visit, well unless that crazy
person is me and you don’t know me and will never visit me and somehow you have
happened across my blog and in that case, most definitely read it and certainly
share it all over Facebook.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That having
been said I did come across the most awesome share on Facebook that led to an
immediate buy and download to my Christmas playlist and I just have to share it
with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get passed the whole “Jimmy”
part at about the five minute mark and just listen to the song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
loved it strangely enough!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xZ3Ezl5-Lk">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xZ3Ezl5-Lk</a></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then there
was this that very quickly went to my playlist…much more beautiful than Joel
the Lump of Coal. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I guess
when it comes to something like that…by all means share away!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfGycah-1G_BFECgdKF6giEGzltA0WwTNnH5f4SpOt5LKBlnkKhMeTWk_EwhyxZM02z3IoHyMbw84RSC21AqH3ekDZ8Nc00w9av5OUsu_tfA_5WpUvndr5060KFxKoH21k7uekR_Myx8/s1600/mom+wetsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfGycah-1G_BFECgdKF6giEGzltA0WwTNnH5f4SpOt5LKBlnkKhMeTWk_EwhyxZM02z3IoHyMbw84RSC21AqH3ekDZ8Nc00w9av5OUsu_tfA_5WpUvndr5060KFxKoH21k7uekR_Myx8/s1600/mom+wetsuit.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For
Thanksgiving our family did something amazing that we have done the past
several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve built up a
following after that initial Thanksgiving with Jason and Clint Robertson but
this year all usual families involved had other obligations which just left the
Gibson’s in California this year…though we did drag along my amazing mom and
Clint’s oldest and also amazing daughter Megan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jason’s brother met us there for one of the afternoons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I say that it was awesome!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I only missed the turkey a very little
bit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj107JLqrMfHliUYkwrLj1-0rf3O194hq1WTGWy05b2ZJwoCFXaW4Aj64vPy9S7xwISfnNypqOlWupO0fDXc0lgbA1MonKe4IZlr5tTwnJDfxr6EfVb71QlV2qHgO7BsAVVPnRkNa3ieic/s1600/cameras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj107JLqrMfHliUYkwrLj1-0rf3O194hq1WTGWy05b2ZJwoCFXaW4Aj64vPy9S7xwISfnNypqOlWupO0fDXc0lgbA1MonKe4IZlr5tTwnJDfxr6EfVb71QlV2qHgO7BsAVVPnRkNa3ieic/s1600/cameras.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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The girls couldn't stop taking pictures of the waves. Gotta love smart phones.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUjlD7NEWJ9zYeo5B8s80JvCJrkMZRrIQsLUYD5WgGYmJNp2_8eMGH9s_Zg6zDJOWMsZ_6jrt_FHbFGASlmZrD-k1F690vkYeEjNRzREGdsjnvvGkiVPfx2c88VxtvVRzyyv-OsIJVMs/s1600/huntington+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUjlD7NEWJ9zYeo5B8s80JvCJrkMZRrIQsLUYD5WgGYmJNp2_8eMGH9s_Zg6zDJOWMsZ_6jrt_FHbFGASlmZrD-k1F690vkYeEjNRzREGdsjnvvGkiVPfx2c88VxtvVRzyyv-OsIJVMs/s1600/huntington+beach.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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Huntington Beach Pier</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl9Vo4R03cBDnfxZGIGXDphHFePB7t3euVkxTTDeGa8W8IvF2uuvP1VugCaXyufaIWd0lU7gOyXooJNG8Ru95D8WsNtcN1vsmJ6JOZhldwQ5Vn4qV7PKbvpMFUA9N__zfZDt0WWAXtc8/s1600/me+wetsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl9Vo4R03cBDnfxZGIGXDphHFePB7t3euVkxTTDeGa8W8IvF2uuvP1VugCaXyufaIWd0lU7gOyXooJNG8Ru95D8WsNtcN1vsmJ6JOZhldwQ5Vn4qV7PKbvpMFUA9N__zfZDt0WWAXtc8/s1600/me+wetsuit.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We played so
hard in the ocean that at night I fell into bed, as pro as I am riding the
waves I was equally as pro at crashing to sleep at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first day was very calm and Megan and I
and Nan all saw stingrays swimming through the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second day both Megan and I stepped on
those stingrays to feel them slip away under our feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suzy and Nan were not so lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are the chances that two of my girls
within an hour of each other would get stung by rays…well they did and let me
tell you they were in pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suzy’s pain
only climbed past her ankle, but Nan’s sting was so much deeper and sent pain
all the way to her hip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me tell you,
I got it about six years back and the pain you feel from the poison, well let’s
just say as tough as I am it almost brought me to tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so proud of Nan though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason bought some solar cane (Numbing Crap)
and it didn’t work, but she knew it was her last day so she pulled herself into
the water, limping, tears running down her cheeks and all, so she didn’t have
to miss out on one more minute of the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It made me realize just how strong my no longer so little girl really
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she was little she struggled in
school, first with being so shy that the teachers all worried about her and
then with her grades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did she
decide to do, work her butt off and now she is my crazy, happy, so very
confident and extremely outgoing and friendly A student.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What helped her decide that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What made her take that on herself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because that is what she finally did, decided
who she was and made the changes to be that person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My once skinny armed can’t lift a jug of milk
little girl now throws around huge pro subs like they were nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get Jenny being able to do that, she is
like me and naturally really muscly, but not Nan and now look at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What drives that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK82ohWlQ8ADjVjxkIq8FZVl43mA7Qz9ufEZm_oThiSY1gbAz7-EUHtkIardM3tbr8pLIrI_O0yuN6HtCFcuFgnklLgCioOo8kHSr6HJOWcD9CrbtmpWS3NCyxSIKszhBcSbQBK2KUxPI/s1600/Nan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK82ohWlQ8ADjVjxkIq8FZVl43mA7Qz9ufEZm_oThiSY1gbAz7-EUHtkIardM3tbr8pLIrI_O0yuN6HtCFcuFgnklLgCioOo8kHSr6HJOWcD9CrbtmpWS3NCyxSIKszhBcSbQBK2KUxPI/s1600/Nan.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last
several months have been insane as we, all Americans and really the rest of the
world, have waited to see what would and did transpire over the chaos and
finally the grand jury decision in Ferguson Missouri.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What decided that for those people to go
crazy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, what was happening around
them seemed unreal and for some unjust, but what caused them to join in and
start destroying the very town that they live in, the very people that support
them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot begin to understand where
that much hate and animalism behavior comes in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seems so against the very nature that God put in us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does something created by light become so
dark?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve asked myself that over and
over and then I looked at my children, playing in the ocean or at the Aquarium
of the Deep, laughing and giggling with each other and realized that some of
what God created still is good and still is filled with light.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6G5B66sH9SA1WBHo5tiXK1c5-sbX8I2dddXkFTCHwEa8OANp-xnA1DvECuxTODAnM81dK35Iv7kfagyoaJTvFrQRsEHqQfBo_Hxe3dzng4giUmPQ7mnjIZLrluSxYOVbFM3U24jTMGc/s1600/Ferguson-Missouri-Riot1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6G5B66sH9SA1WBHo5tiXK1c5-sbX8I2dddXkFTCHwEa8OANp-xnA1DvECuxTODAnM81dK35Iv7kfagyoaJTvFrQRsEHqQfBo_Hxe3dzng4giUmPQ7mnjIZLrluSxYOVbFM3U24jTMGc/s1600/Ferguson-Missouri-Riot1.jpg" height="177" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">How do we
keep that light when so much chaos and so much insanity is going on around
us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaiah 5:20 <span class="text"><sup>20 </sup>Woe
unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that count darkness as light, and
light as darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!</span>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you do when so many seem to be
looking for the bitter and throwing away all that is sweet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we just give up and join them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Human nature seems to point that way, so why
don’t we?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzt4yW9dEanu8OofVxhk5srr_E1BDJqJpEndZiz_WosI69Vku-opazjQZnN5nqPXAjIAUMBKhItk7DCxMe7-UiGkIoHKjJ1BBC5VxTgesfN5qFYWoNUz2CA7Z6kGgcH4OoPP_yqaZ6PA/s1600/light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzt4yW9dEanu8OofVxhk5srr_E1BDJqJpEndZiz_WosI69Vku-opazjQZnN5nqPXAjIAUMBKhItk7DCxMe7-UiGkIoHKjJ1BBC5VxTgesfN5qFYWoNUz2CA7Z6kGgcH4OoPP_yqaZ6PA/s1600/light.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have to
decide who we are and make the changes to be that person. Not saying that is
easy to go against the sensationalism around us and not get caught up, after
all that is our nature, that is my nature, but God made me and filled me with
light and I can choose to continue to feed that light or let it burn out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can choose to let Ferguson Missouri and
every other crazy insane wildness that continues to be the Daily News drive me
and hype me or I can find the strength that my daughter found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That quiet, sweet peace that if accessed
enough can make you something greater than you ever thought, something only The
Creator could ever have planned, but you have to decide it, I have to decide
it, and the more of us that decide it the more it will spread and before long
despite all the bitterness and all the riotness behavior catching the headlines
a sweet peace will start to creep across the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe those of us who are watching will catch
this light and maybe, just maybe if we try so hard and listen so quietly we
will be able to see it light within us too, because you see, that really is our
choice, not matter how hard it may be, no matter how crazy everything around us
may be, we ultimately decide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decide
who we will be and we decide the kind of world we want to create and most of
all we decide if we share it with the rest of all of God’s children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s as simple as that…we decide.<span class="text"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<strong>Pics of us at the Aquarium of the Deep</strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXrOHls4gwuCdrTWpLpmiaaxvUSNibhpGV7OaFJzaz5ISBx2-13ctkq7ly0ilWjS8pXzCFxkb4nI0yFGY9pwcwgNjnoDqPciCgjL9sQRO1boUayEZEacQMi5mKp4f9TkI0t4nTms2Nd4/s1600/girls+fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXrOHls4gwuCdrTWpLpmiaaxvUSNibhpGV7OaFJzaz5ISBx2-13ctkq7ly0ilWjS8pXzCFxkb4nI0yFGY9pwcwgNjnoDqPciCgjL9sQRO1boUayEZEacQMi5mKp4f9TkI0t4nTms2Nd4/s1600/girls+fish.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1arAT-9XsW0Uvg94hBxhX5KPdjeAJh8XMSGYQc553UzqmZ-Fpp97Yg5OIIRRHFSx8gViB5M53XnDaRPDXGTGr9D05p3qBPRLTrf-fTXKM0fV8D5CAhmoI28VWCNE1-UmzK8_wFtgjC7E/s1600/Jenny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1arAT-9XsW0Uvg94hBxhX5KPdjeAJh8XMSGYQc553UzqmZ-Fpp97Yg5OIIRRHFSx8gViB5M53XnDaRPDXGTGr9D05p3qBPRLTrf-fTXKM0fV8D5CAhmoI28VWCNE1-UmzK8_wFtgjC7E/s1600/Jenny.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh483rdFYrFJSND2USHTWvbwDhuGoriCjzJF_AWYRTXGN5A7K-k6vjcQyUN5XnEuovXHPRK81ySIs7hjCfVVYGzluAVi_uJEtIHz-mxIbHLnwrgFNczM8gSvXdoTTKY3YC-y10d_vu7ves/s1600/steph+shell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh483rdFYrFJSND2USHTWvbwDhuGoriCjzJF_AWYRTXGN5A7K-k6vjcQyUN5XnEuovXHPRK81ySIs7hjCfVVYGzluAVi_uJEtIHz-mxIbHLnwrgFNczM8gSvXdoTTKY3YC-y10d_vu7ves/s1600/steph+shell.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ygEugUMlpGKU5lgqFaK7WDN-H1Xbo_opy7_MAPW3hAEe7DkDeqPM7fC_gP-NskNp6HX8glD0-qmu6RaLOMGBb9tOegaVUeQ8wR7ndjGP1C0XyrQS2YLXntrvYoDYiX0nJPa_bxIrbE/s1600/mom+shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ygEugUMlpGKU5lgqFaK7WDN-H1Xbo_opy7_MAPW3hAEe7DkDeqPM7fC_gP-NskNp6HX8glD0-qmu6RaLOMGBb9tOegaVUeQ8wR7ndjGP1C0XyrQS2YLXntrvYoDYiX0nJPa_bxIrbE/s1600/mom+shark.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQykpNGdzADv8L_gj_g_i-x6aAVZ8oQAmY-TGA0MBTkYnKhIDF-AftSIPmbGyYCGfrCEQWgTbpow2Q66a_Ut3pYFmJwe1sce98QjCFnfjQS0Pj_M1zw4eteRx1-ZmnqSrwhHcVbxbgR6c/s1600/aquarium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQykpNGdzADv8L_gj_g_i-x6aAVZ8oQAmY-TGA0MBTkYnKhIDF-AftSIPmbGyYCGfrCEQWgTbpow2Q66a_Ut3pYFmJwe1sce98QjCFnfjQS0Pj_M1zw4eteRx1-ZmnqSrwhHcVbxbgR6c/s1600/aquarium.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHf7vzqKwC1TRFZaYEn3f8ZzjYOEqE_-EgjnIiBQ1CBGe7CvnLhU3-A_ccT72BEMjZWsnafmZFBhe2U4xmDfiJ1cX22taXwoSE5Ezkwflh-hCbWbkWDojSX1yk6jQl5dt04QJscnGNaw/s1600/sam+penguin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHf7vzqKwC1TRFZaYEn3f8ZzjYOEqE_-EgjnIiBQ1CBGe7CvnLhU3-A_ccT72BEMjZWsnafmZFBhe2U4xmDfiJ1cX22taXwoSE5Ezkwflh-hCbWbkWDojSX1yk6jQl5dt04QJscnGNaw/s1600/sam+penguin.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Us at the Tide Pools at Little Carona Beach</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKv1vAWy3K8bMCIASPrzt0sFeEJUK686yB9I3LjCGL8eKxEIy1t_zEDw5JV_JVeOf2lkENnrBMgc3FtdqEvadfxzSQ2Zu3ifRNmzKVkIau2maPGbzthgtwevEp3fiEBxFYFRyM0WbeSz4/s1600/hermit+crab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKv1vAWy3K8bMCIASPrzt0sFeEJUK686yB9I3LjCGL8eKxEIy1t_zEDw5JV_JVeOf2lkENnrBMgc3FtdqEvadfxzSQ2Zu3ifRNmzKVkIau2maPGbzthgtwevEp3fiEBxFYFRyM0WbeSz4/s1600/hermit+crab.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sam found a hermit crab and it crawled out of it's shell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNUkNaKqLVcEl5KccnK0rV_5s5FXLgvFwaj7VhrBsX0ib8aW4ikqK6Rc0RbrWtWdm4KaMbYYGprzsGcehW1uqyBldVId_sioRDb_uA4pHSypAgMTRhIiE3cTAZ_tj1SPI5U-BtZ3R5P4/s1600/tide+pools+jason.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNUkNaKqLVcEl5KccnK0rV_5s5FXLgvFwaj7VhrBsX0ib8aW4ikqK6Rc0RbrWtWdm4KaMbYYGprzsGcehW1uqyBldVId_sioRDb_uA4pHSypAgMTRhIiE3cTAZ_tj1SPI5U-BtZ3R5P4/s1600/tide+pools+jason.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgX7F_Y2fnCl4ZhkcIc9YgG0MCi0t6JhjOsCcFkL5FqfH7kssKpIWBttrrZHCHd5dcvJupqOGgk4GGgUXmzaeevPbMp6naJdNZ13fUU81F07KV6wkdpHcwSf8KlzOvSASIOkGmpndwes/s1600/sam+tide+pools.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgX7F_Y2fnCl4ZhkcIc9YgG0MCi0t6JhjOsCcFkL5FqfH7kssKpIWBttrrZHCHd5dcvJupqOGgk4GGgUXmzaeevPbMp6naJdNZ13fUU81F07KV6wkdpHcwSf8KlzOvSASIOkGmpndwes/s1600/sam+tide+pools.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFSMrM3pN7-N0yth9YaZZvOaK1dcWxW8I_YMrrZkaujnB5Rojm3RTPnmkhXSWCIg4aGfSNm68HMCqkUJxQ6bTbZJHpCT1IKEIUnvyeOVJukSvHcDWX7oxcMNYxDKYE4fD_YmvuC6cFJM/s1600/cameras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>And finally the Hippy Bus that a very little, very old, "Surfer Dude" told us to add our stickers too.</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFlfNWcepb28eiHgpMsgya0swVj8TahyphenhyphengVXVRLKvBiJXFiUKMswGLRkPDtaYIxOQbrCYXQtXc-_WJhYgJtKazer-MXSHEbZ363UuDOII9hERBv2Eg2_HJk63E1-mStKVhwjGqlmg1Y3A/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFlfNWcepb28eiHgpMsgya0swVj8TahyphenhyphengVXVRLKvBiJXFiUKMswGLRkPDtaYIxOQbrCYXQtXc-_WJhYgJtKazer-MXSHEbZ363UuDOII9hERBv2Eg2_HJk63E1-mStKVhwjGqlmg1Y3A/s1600/bus.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-19502231202537082142014-11-05T08:44:00.004-07:002014-11-05T08:44:54.549-07:00Tough as Liquid Nails
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have you
looked around you lately?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our world is a
scary place and it only seems to be getting scarier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel the strong need to prepare my children
for what is to come without possibly having the knowledge of what that really
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can you do that without
encouraging your children to grow strong and responsible and brave, but I don’t
think the best way to do that is by stealing our children’s childhood from
them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25zxPqBb3JnPhvs73SNm5sHOi7R6WLqL4sWV7RywqScMw2r5CGucXhoT2N1NxQAIFAQtRwRefquyLNkg12Z2i4BoynViKpyItjIXEVh_z_zj1OcsZG-xLdqxDb57C752dFczEay6XX7Q/s1600/nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25zxPqBb3JnPhvs73SNm5sHOi7R6WLqL4sWV7RywqScMw2r5CGucXhoT2N1NxQAIFAQtRwRefquyLNkg12Z2i4BoynViKpyItjIXEVh_z_zj1OcsZG-xLdqxDb57C752dFczEay6XX7Q/s1600/nails.jpg" height="90" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want my
girls to grow up to be soft and gentle and compassionate in a world that forces
them to be tough and hard like liquid nails…so how do I do that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tUtzR4lP0j7-eoDVhMlhJFlKkGQsH0_6Rb8YM_OuCSt6QIp0IVBfR1O_7AQnzope7grc2EwS6d87u9bJSwHtMrvOdzkQNy6X-GF5WycbEkqVcygtP71QnclwAui9En9YVm2vPmw5COg/s1600/candy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tUtzR4lP0j7-eoDVhMlhJFlKkGQsH0_6Rb8YM_OuCSt6QIp0IVBfR1O_7AQnzope7grc2EwS6d87u9bJSwHtMrvOdzkQNy6X-GF5WycbEkqVcygtP71QnclwAui9En9YVm2vPmw5COg/s1600/candy.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought a
lot about this very thing all week as Halloween seemed to zip by us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love every holiday and I love
Halloween.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We live in a housing complex
where people come from all over to trick or treat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our houses are conveniently lined up side by
side on extra-long blocks with bright street lamps and a strong feeling of
safety, so of course mothers and fathers come from all over town and even other
towns up to 30 minutes away to get their children the most haul possible in the
safest place possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of my
neighbors have grumbled about this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
years we’ve had over 500 kids come trick or treating and yes if you don’t shop
smart that can add up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love seeing all
those kids in the craziness that is only solved by leaving the front door open
and letting in all the flies in town for several hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m choosing to chalk this up to the reason
that my daughter Nan sadly chose not to go trick or treating this year and not
to the fact that some of those moms around here thought they should decide for
my daughter when she is too old to go trick or treating instead of me, her mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m choosing to think that sheer numbers is
why they expressed to her that she was too old not that they really thought
that me, her mother, hadn’t taken the time to notice that she was growing up
and out of Halloween.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKUjxh4Q6LozKwvVcbRZzAmwD_6cgIwdScPjW25pe-WKAzwa9eYO5bGk-7LUtsy_70RdEKyQ7IgQPJtL_mOQd9xCdUdUPwqL8fVPxmTeETViB6TTtr1MDJsuqvJbCt-jADGl86V4ygbs/s1600/nan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKUjxh4Q6LozKwvVcbRZzAmwD_6cgIwdScPjW25pe-WKAzwa9eYO5bGk-7LUtsy_70RdEKyQ7IgQPJtL_mOQd9xCdUdUPwqL8fVPxmTeETViB6TTtr1MDJsuqvJbCt-jADGl86V4ygbs/s1600/nan.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nan dressed
up as she always does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent a long
time trying to come up with a classy costume, just like we did last year, which
was fun and cool and pretty and a little bit more grown up all at the same
time, while still being completely innocent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nan talked and planned for several weeks and she even helped me get the
other three children younger than her costumes ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when trick or treating time came she
chose not to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead her and her
friend Bailey hung out and eventually went to another friend in our
neighborhood’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t not go
trick or treating because she didn’t want to, she didn’t go because several
moms last year, including a very dear friend of mine, told her that she was too
old to go trick or treating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What????<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never thought that you
were too old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just about the time that
you get that way you have a beautiful baby girl or boy to take toddling around
door to door and just when they get to old and they have one of those beautiful
boys or girls to take around you get to go trick or treating with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never be too old to trick or treat,
for I will always have kids or grandkids to take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our neighbor behind us who is the best
grandpa ever talked about that very thing when he was out and about with his
daughter and her cute little one trick or treating at our house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkhotNcZ9dyqyro-FS2nnuJrRDv2pbKpvw8-XA_IAgb42nAc1P2Gtl-CwA5sSSASOyDE0SQtIoV-UX-PjK3C7PD_jWZg1k6FJSagSGWdncVfxNToBhk2pN22lTFldb74X2Xk2rXhk9Ts/s1600/barbie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkhotNcZ9dyqyro-FS2nnuJrRDv2pbKpvw8-XA_IAgb42nAc1P2Gtl-CwA5sSSASOyDE0SQtIoV-UX-PjK3C7PD_jWZg1k6FJSagSGWdncVfxNToBhk2pN22lTFldb74X2Xk2rXhk9Ts/s1600/barbie.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother
was amazing when I was a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
remember saying to her when I was preteen, “Is it weird that I still like Barbie’s?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you know what she said to me? “Of course
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still like Barbie’s.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She taught the little girl in me that was
feeling the pressure to grow up too young that you can always be young even
when you have to be old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that is
what has kept my mom so sweet and so compassionate in a world that has also
been hardening her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She remembers the
innocence of being young and sweet and pure and she still is, but don’t for one
minute think that she isn’t hard as those liquid nails that I talked about
earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s had to be with the
struggles that she has gone through, one of them being my little brother who
has struggled with drug abuse and all that that goes with it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPDU4L8mjVqKL8XH4mwPDsU5ecAQxiPYRdIeZ3ZC4x1QfoeFRo14QbejZS40Xorw1sH50aQCRHRoWjW5VZ32ruG85oSHvK6u1Sth6wt0IAirj4d8GJXHUWrWJO2PnOvre_dRVZNMQ5OU/s1600/nan+emmet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPDU4L8mjVqKL8XH4mwPDsU5ecAQxiPYRdIeZ3ZC4x1QfoeFRo14QbejZS40Xorw1sH50aQCRHRoWjW5VZ32ruG85oSHvK6u1Sth6wt0IAirj4d8GJXHUWrWJO2PnOvre_dRVZNMQ5OU/s1600/nan+emmet.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want my
Nan, who is fifteen and very quickly growing up and out of the house, to hold
onto all of that innocence and tenderness that comes from childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the bible says that we need to hold onto
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke 18:17 </span></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="17"><span style="color: #486fae; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: 17;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="verse2"><span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";"> “</span></span><span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";">Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom
of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein.</span><span style="color: #2f393a; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";">“<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So then why has some of these other moms
expressed to my daughter that she should be ashamed of some of the childhood
rights that she wants to hold onto a little bit longer…and where else do we
want these older but not grown kids to be on Halloween anyways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out causing trouble?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smashing pumpkins and pulling pranks that
seem to get out of control?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe find
one kind of mischief or another that quite possible could damage them and
harden them for the rest of their lives?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why on earth would we want to encourage those kids from our very own
neighborhoods to be bored on Halloween and go get into trouble when we can each
take our part and lift them up and teach them fun in a healthy safe clean environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why wouldn’t that be our first choice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know I tend to hold onto my kids’ youth
a little longer than some parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
even had one mom once tell me that her daughter didn’t want to play with mine anymore
because I still let her play with dolls and didn’t I think that she was too old
to play with baby dolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My daughter was
ten by the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my children also
know how to work and be serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
work hard along with the whole family through our family business to do their
part to help put food on the table and a roof over our heads, but I only think
that is all the more reason for them to learn how to play hard too and to hold
onto that inner child that can still have fun and still find innocence when the
world requires so much out of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #2f393a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode";">I know my daughters, and my sons too, need
to learn to be tough or they will never make it through this hard world, but I
want them to go about it with a gentleness that speaks of childhood and
tenderness and God all the while they are learning to be tough as liquid nails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would I want to steal any last moment of
this from them when they have a lifetime of a hard world ahead of them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would I want to take away that little
child that St. Luke says is the only way that any of us can enter into the
Kingdom of Heaven?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would any mother
want their child to grow up too fast when part of them can always hold onto
that innocence that was their childhood? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that I am never too old to be young.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ARjcsTa4ovOSWInhI9axhPltFD4wTwT7ALBoNkxyi0KX1mP6gFQSQn6sa_R500Wo-49xqrU8zUGNTqIq5A9XuJJsNQVO5jC9EPAVB01-qBHtqj8Fywkyf2Hial1My2Bt6Xal1-UPxfk/s1600/suzy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ARjcsTa4ovOSWInhI9axhPltFD4wTwT7ALBoNkxyi0KX1mP6gFQSQn6sa_R500Wo-49xqrU8zUGNTqIq5A9XuJJsNQVO5jC9EPAVB01-qBHtqj8Fywkyf2Hial1My2Bt6Xal1-UPxfk/s1600/suzy.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFb83w4gpoBH6p_f9JHZtUhNpEnK75_jKu63zwwAnnKe9qJX9HZTKJuXp-m2iqUzdX_J145qGmGwpUc7YCIrV8LZup1y-UpxE_sKCqj3SK0MRBzGg29VBk-0S7WE4uacBqbtqJh6Rreck/s1600/sam+steph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFb83w4gpoBH6p_f9JHZtUhNpEnK75_jKu63zwwAnnKe9qJX9HZTKJuXp-m2iqUzdX_J145qGmGwpUc7YCIrV8LZup1y-UpxE_sKCqj3SK0MRBzGg29VBk-0S7WE4uacBqbtqJh6Rreck/s1600/sam+steph.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-86183026384885818412014-10-07T09:35:00.000-06:002014-10-07T09:40:33.226-06:00Peace in the Beginning of Sorrows<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hey, Mom,
did you know that we are in another war?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s what my eleven year old Stephanie asked me a little over a week
ago and it has been sitting in my mind rolling over and over.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,
sweetie, we probably always will be.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How nice was that for a mom to say to a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have left it at that, but I tried to
make it okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You are
safe and sound here, in our house, in our little town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scriptures say that it will always be
that way until Jesus comes back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
just means we are getting closer to earth becoming better.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGe874mwGzFKUB-8A2rv9bRzx0eeksx6HgshSEqr1MSoGE12oR_Pm60H2ZWNDknG2tGD5NhfekNw_gWWJY-s3sGPUcqQB0FQf6A8gvTT7E4H1VmnaEYErdXxrbGoNVmHF9cOwrWttUdQ/s1600/flood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGe874mwGzFKUB-8A2rv9bRzx0eeksx6HgshSEqr1MSoGE12oR_Pm60H2ZWNDknG2tGD5NhfekNw_gWWJY-s3sGPUcqQB0FQf6A8gvTT7E4H1VmnaEYErdXxrbGoNVmHF9cOwrWttUdQ/s1600/flood.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There has
always been war, from the very beginning of man, even in the Garden of Eden,
even with Adam and Eve’s children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck,
it got so bad that Heavenly Father had to wipe the slate clean and start over
with the flood, so what is so different about now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
the first Gulf War and thinking how horrible it was that in my lifetime, people
that I actually knew, young men that I had grown up with, would go off to
war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So surprising and shocking as was
so many other wars like, the World Wars and Korean War and Vietnam etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The difference for our younger children is
that most likely they will never know the world with the breaks of peace
inbetween.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It possibly cannot be with
Satan working overtime.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So how do
you make your children feel safe, how do I make myself feel safe?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all I have a married boy in the
military that could be called up and shipped off any moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t completely figured that one out
yet, but when it comes to mind all I feel is peace and I know it will be okay. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Timothy 3<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 This know
also, that in the last days perilous times shall come.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 For men
shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers,
disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy,<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 Without
natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce,
despisers of those that are good,<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4 Traitors,
heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God;<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5 Having a
form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6 For of this
sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with
sins, led away with divers lusts,</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="7"><o:p></o:p></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">7 Ever learning, and never able to come to the
knowledge of the truth. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t think that we
haven’t been warned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scriptures have
taught for thousands of years that this time would come.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">St. Matthew 24<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0J-clGarWa_5ZBaiyJN1s1lU_UQNgS7inJhajLqYX-2D0-M1-tDZpS9xHKcUAVkA95d3oUfy3KrjpX1g5RpXqtBDqDlxYk3uwjVwX-JbB8iDITZvt9IWciYcn06vh6uFM8GfPea3rDw/s1600/war.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0J-clGarWa_5ZBaiyJN1s1lU_UQNgS7inJhajLqYX-2D0-M1-tDZpS9xHKcUAVkA95d3oUfy3KrjpX1g5RpXqtBDqDlxYk3uwjVwX-JbB8iDITZvt9IWciYcn06vh6uFM8GfPea3rDw/s1600/war.jpg" height="255" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">6 And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars:
see that ye be not troubled: for all <i>these things</i> must come to pass, but
the end is not yet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">7 For nation shall rise against nation, and
kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and
earthquakes, in divers places.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8 All these <i>are</i>
the beginning of sorrows.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Doesn’t sound like there
is much to hope for, doesn’t sound like I should feel comfort…then why do
I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I feel peace when I fear
war?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I feel that inner stirring
of gratitude when I think of a world so filled with men and women who think of
themselves as godly but deny the power of God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How can I feel such peace?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thessalonians 4<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">16 For the
Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the
archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">17 Then we
which are alive <i>and</i> remain shall be caught up together with them in the
clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">18 Wherefore
comfort one another with these words.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Isaiah 52<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">7 ¶How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet
of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good
tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God
reigneth!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">8 Thy watchmen shall lift up the voice; with the
voice together shall they sing: for they shall see eye to eye, when the <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> shall bring again Zion.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The scriptures have warned
and we have watched but no other time in the world has it felt so close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the scriptures have also praised and sent
good tidings of good, published peace and said that God reigneth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is how I can have peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When at times that my mind sprints violently
and my heart beats uncontrollably the Holy Ghost whispers peace so softly and
sweetly that it drowns out all the jumbled noise streaming in of fear and doubt
from the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilf2iKrs7rM5b95-wTG9jB-FZkBPo5Yfkbm2lgUamWoMhFwTzYk2iiSuB1aj2Kq41BVdN5nxZbKx7WCvB6cXTRdrtcGDGCJoM2geK9sel95HiYc2JXRP94IjvYktmy9OH-bclZ9BOnlH8/s1600/Steph+8x10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilf2iKrs7rM5b95-wTG9jB-FZkBPo5Yfkbm2lgUamWoMhFwTzYk2iiSuB1aj2Kq41BVdN5nxZbKx7WCvB6cXTRdrtcGDGCJoM2geK9sel95HiYc2JXRP94IjvYktmy9OH-bclZ9BOnlH8/s1600/Steph+8x10.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will my little girl ever
know the life that seemed so much simpler from my days of youth, probably not,
but does she need to live life afraid?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Absolutely not, and that is the great thing about her, she doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She walks on, her very quiet, very tender
little self, the one who sits back and sweetly watches it all, innocent and
young but so wise and she radiates peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe that is why the spirit can speak such peace to my soul, because my
very gentle little girl publishes it from the mountains in every quiet act of gentleness
she bestows every day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will the world one day
come to an end?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I look with longing for that day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every moment of every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But does that mean that there isn’t peace and
joy for now, for today, and even for tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heaven’s no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is peace in
everything even amongst the wars and rumors of wars and the beginning of
sorrows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read it in the scriptures, I
feel it as I look at my food storage, I hear it in the kind words that my
friends and family and even strangers send my way, and most definitely I see it
in the quiet peace that shines from my Little Stephanie in her tender silent faith.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-9113644425663648072014-09-26T11:32:00.001-06:002014-09-26T11:38:55.208-06:00Taking a Moment to Slow Things Down<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxuU5c97YjPhWR0TuViz_UNBH1elRxely2rbMs-pZa0dWyTYjQAXwAdlQFz0Q7P9sTIpda1o6fQBzXweSVIVWi0zsThI-Gstf5eRjuGdfk7WLZ6JccllqjFWiR6_azfls8cJhQKsBsNU/s1600/road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxuU5c97YjPhWR0TuViz_UNBH1elRxely2rbMs-pZa0dWyTYjQAXwAdlQFz0Q7P9sTIpda1o6fQBzXweSVIVWi0zsThI-Gstf5eRjuGdfk7WLZ6JccllqjFWiR6_azfls8cJhQKsBsNU/s1600/road.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ah…why is it
that a newly recovered street looks so pretty?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can’t stop opening my door or stop looking at that shining black surface
that is staring back at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the
light is right, first thing in the morning, it looks like it is wet from a
fresh rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, Suzy says that it
smells like horse pee…so not so sure that I like that aspect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This week I
woke up, the morning when that great road fiascos started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had received notice the day before of
which roads in our small housing complex would be affected that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not my street, according to my map, so my
cars could stay parked right where they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the process of getting kids ready for school I heard the large
equipment roll in, sounding ever too close to our street to be where the map
showed, but oh well, big gear probably echoes making it sound closer than it
was, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was walking the last child out the door
the street cleaner came by to ready our street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jenny hurried and moved the suburban up on the driveway for me and then
drove off in her little truck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What the
heck?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I read the map wrong?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, roads to be worked on were mapped out in
red and the street numbers written beside the map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quick call to the project manager and sure
enough, a couple of the wrong maps for the next day’s project had gotten mixed
in with the right ones and I had been lucky enough to be given one of those.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now I was stuck with a suburban stuck in the driveway and not parked in
the graveyard for easy access later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What to do, what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well right
about that time, Jason came home from an early doctor’s appointment he had that
morning, to say goodbye before he headed to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had parked his car a block away at the cemetery
and walked home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did he do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Braved the street cleaning truck and the guys
getting ready to pour blacktop and took the suburban down to the cemetery for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Problem solved, with little effort
and here I had stressed over nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Moral to the
story…not a whole lot, really, just another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s what came later that was so
amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So small, yet so amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywnvqJXKHy9EsJJO77FaMwFzNrZzIR0IvlWI6IymEXYqoVOEhEoWoGRrHXxAtmf2aVy_2d-vAryp9sUZ7UazBieIp7fasMYJ4hrtz9A990Az8R0FbPkiAlfTMffBPWjum2s_aAOcCTSQ/s1600/jericho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywnvqJXKHy9EsJJO77FaMwFzNrZzIR0IvlWI6IymEXYqoVOEhEoWoGRrHXxAtmf2aVy_2d-vAryp9sUZ7UazBieIp7fasMYJ4hrtz9A990Az8R0FbPkiAlfTMffBPWjum2s_aAOcCTSQ/s1600/jericho.jpg" height="210" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have been
watching a show on Netflix called Jericho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s about the United States after coordinated terrorist attacks across
the country destroys major cities and knocks out power and contact to the rest of
the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not my favorite show but
interesting enough as I watch a small town have to come together even for the
simplest necessities of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does
this have anything to do with the road work that was going on in my neck of the
woods you ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of us on those few
blocks had to walk a block away to our cars where all of the neighborhood was
parked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left my home several times
that day only to run into one neighbor or another along my way, and what did we
do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped and chatted for a
minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I would drive away in my
suburban I would see others on their sidewalks or in the cemetery chatting
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were everywhere, not just in
their houses or in their cars but talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day
we had our roads back but the roads below us were in the same situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road for the bus stop was closed so the
kids were dropped several blocks away and had to walk up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many parents, me included because I had to
get said kids off to piano lessons, were waiting for their kids to walk up the
street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many people chatting and
waiting as a mass of kids walked up the streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In all of
this it kind of reminded me of the show Jericho, where the small community,
much like my own, had to be all connected, farmer and businessman, school
teacher and nurse, men, women, and children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kind of sent it all back to a simpler time when life was a little slower
and neighbors mattered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ELQflETed83pN8r3So3EZOos92qv1olHfAII0wPXRhiewmwriszlo2jsiNH9rM6Xp_NhiK3EpWFVt75K9VegQ7n84REhlbYCMjff1QL9c0nKX5h0Cnb-yIhUxsTeub6wPRajWTdn4Tg/s1600/kiddos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ELQflETed83pN8r3So3EZOos92qv1olHfAII0wPXRhiewmwriszlo2jsiNH9rM6Xp_NhiK3EpWFVt75K9VegQ7n84REhlbYCMjff1QL9c0nKX5h0Cnb-yIhUxsTeub6wPRajWTdn4Tg/s1600/kiddos.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I walked
the kids home after one of our trips that first day, we walked slow and noticed
things and talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it was only a
block but it was a lazy block and Sam and Steph talked about the school day,
and all the work and the chores and homework waiting for us back at the house
took the back burner for a moment, and I loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those neighbors that I wave to but rarely
have time to talk to I got to say hello and hear a little about what was
happening in their lives and for a minute the world just slowed down a little
bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jenny always
says how she wished that she had been born in the 1950’s and, well, for those
two days it felt a little like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
question is…how exactly do we keep that slow pace life and connecting with our
neighbors going?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I doubt the city would
be too happy if we kept parking our cars down at the graveyard, but hey maybe
we just need to convince them to resurface our roads a little more often.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-25487008653574067042014-09-18T17:27:00.002-06:002014-09-18T17:29:01.891-06:00Just Being You is Exactly What Heavenly Father Needs You to do<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCwjfJ3jqbTcyN_GQmNSiM6KkM_omlg4PWCxM33TLKTeEJuM1_C8uBCxQ8o8gN4-zk-MMEtCJlSWgraS84W2LfCI-XtrddS9CrN5qXKt58A4syCTxTdUoyovv1xi7UYkUjxAsGKL-pXs/s1600/tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCwjfJ3jqbTcyN_GQmNSiM6KkM_omlg4PWCxM33TLKTeEJuM1_C8uBCxQ8o8gN4-zk-MMEtCJlSWgraS84W2LfCI-XtrddS9CrN5qXKt58A4syCTxTdUoyovv1xi7UYkUjxAsGKL-pXs/s1600/tub.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some would
say that I am a crazy person, but a few, mostly moms out there will completely
understand what little secret I am about to reveal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes,(okay every time) that I clean my
shower and or my toilet I have to pull back the curtain or lift up the lid and
smile about a million times a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
this is not to think that I never clean my tub or toilet and so the shiny clean
porcelain shining back at me is a rare phenomenon, oh no, I do it faithfully
every Thursday and the toilet on Mondays too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So why, you ask, am I so crazy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because there is something so rewarding about seeing the labors of a job
well done, and the toilet and the tub usually stay that way for a whole day,
well at least my bedroom bathroom does because I am the only one home using it
during the day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was
watching a video that someone of my Facebook buddies put online that was the takeoff
of “All About That Bass,” (and you really do need to clink and watch both the
links below before you can completely understand what I am saying) and it
couldn’t have hit me on a better day as Thursday is our hard core cleaning day
around this house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now if you know the
Gibson household you know that we hold music high on our priorities list, all
kinds of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all that is how we
actually pay for the house that we live in, so I know this song inside and out
and quite frankly this version of it hit home in a funny way and I couldn’t help
but smile.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"><a href="http://moms.popsugar.com/Mom-All-About-Bass-Parody-Video-35732569">http://moms.popsugar.com/Mom-All-About-Bass-Parody-Video-35732569</a></span><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFr4JXmESCWCpfzyYECsTNBiZXSeOAvobUKXAamKtYQubJZdI9IHriXPOtFE4TeR104r5kOC-DVqilamXKuJJmU8KMgcqPU65amFu4yahwOpdCwvy2jyiAqsq4dcCjzDPr2ZYEiCoEgq0/s1600/toilet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFr4JXmESCWCpfzyYECsTNBiZXSeOAvobUKXAamKtYQubJZdI9IHriXPOtFE4TeR104r5kOC-DVqilamXKuJJmU8KMgcqPU65amFu4yahwOpdCwvy2jyiAqsq4dcCjzDPr2ZYEiCoEgq0/s1600/toilet.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a>Then just a few posts down
was another Facebook buddy’s share and it was a Mormon video and…okay this is
another secret that I am even more embarrassed to share, but I was on the potty
(the very recently sparkling cleaned potty) watching this one on my smart phone
being interrupted every two seconds by Sam knocking on the door to tell me
about his 100 percent test scores that he got at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pause…then unpause…then knock knock knock,
Stephanie asking if she could make some hot chocolate (cause heaven forbid it
is 83 degrees outside she must be cold,)…pause…then unpause…then knock knock knock,
Sam asking if he can have hot chocolate too….then pause…then unpause…then knock
knock knock and me hollering out “no” before Sam could even ask if he could put
mini marshmallows in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after seeing
the video I smiled even more because, well, I knew.<o:p></o:p></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<br /></div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"><a href="http://www.mormonchannel.org/video/mormon-messages?v=3792885561001">http://www.mormonchannel.org/video/mormon-messages?v=3792885561001</a></span><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love that
shiny tub and sparkling toilet because it’s one of the few things that I have
that I can physically show for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I clean the house and scrub it and wash clothes and so on and so forth
but as soon as the kids come home and plop their shoes on the floor and their
jackets on the coach and homework on the table all of that is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then shortly thereafter the bar is
usually filled with flour from making rolls and ketchup from making barbeque
sauce and the stove top is plastered with pulled pork as I spill it trying to
mix the noodles cooking in the other pan and although the kids are cleaning up
downstairs the upstairs is hot and sticky and messy from me cleaning, and well…the
bathroom is still clean and shining for Jason to see when he comes home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m one of
the lucky ones though, because Jason doesn’t care if the house is a bomb or if
the toilet is sparkling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t care
if I ran a million places and a million errands or if I curled up with a good
book and left popsicle wrappers on the table beside me, he only cares that he
comes home to me, even the no makeup, sweatpants wearing me that I am today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the first one that he calls when he
leaves the campus at night to come home, and I’m the one that he calls a
million times on the way home to complain about the traffic and to talk to to take
his mind off of the craziness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am
the one that he wraps his arms around and kisses at night first thing when he
walks through the door not caring if he had to stumble over a million pairs of
shoes to get to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course I am
the one he cuddles up to at night in bed, not caring whether or not I changed
the sheets that day or even anytime in the last million days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because, well that’s really what matters, is
that I’m there, and I’m me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never
really know what you do, whether your day is busy or lazy, sometimes just you
being you is exactly what Heavenly Father needs you to do, even if you yell “no”
at your little guy through the door that he can’t have marshmallows before he
even asks it, cause hey, that’s part of me being me, knowing before he can say
anything that he’s going to steal the mini marshmallow that I am saving for a sweet
prize for another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the
things we do we just don’t know how much they matter, but they do, and God
knows.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-13799851735648909532014-09-16T13:03:00.002-06:002014-09-16T13:03:28.222-06:00The Dinner Table
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU_PfCRHrz_p5EYVSsOUHhpQ83EGNmfwpzy3eF_eGA0VL6ozRHgKRh1ntpNwdjwK2O5fHmf9E6uftuJkbI0JCiWA1ImV2pWqb9Tho1iLUnA1CULQ0RZ8XUzjg0etH5nVF5UNJtd-Lf-g/s1600/girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU_PfCRHrz_p5EYVSsOUHhpQ83EGNmfwpzy3eF_eGA0VL6ozRHgKRh1ntpNwdjwK2O5fHmf9E6uftuJkbI0JCiWA1ImV2pWqb9Tho1iLUnA1CULQ0RZ8XUzjg0etH5nVF5UNJtd-Lf-g/s1600/girls.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s it…if
I have to hear one more word about who gets the last green bean I may scream,”
I bet that isn’t heard around most of your tables, but it is always, and I mean
always heard around mine, whether it’s the last corn on the cob, the last green
bean, last cooked carrot, or last head of broccoli my three oldest girls fight
nonstop about who gets it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor little
Sam and Steph would argue too but they are too afraid to jump into the middle
of them, even Jason only rarely dares speak up and says, “Hey, I’m the dad, I
get it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwjoqPV-1KrBmqfTJjRD9M1kZucMKNfq3OL5edxWf9UtLRE1i0UmqhgDJCRMc7R_mgOaYIz0ICbr1jP2ec2CiINYBf1RgZrkj9ppFhTwdYtrBFREdI4CninWrWFSL0KuTI9Lv44G8mrw/s1600/green+beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwjoqPV-1KrBmqfTJjRD9M1kZucMKNfq3OL5edxWf9UtLRE1i0UmqhgDJCRMc7R_mgOaYIz0ICbr1jP2ec2CiINYBf1RgZrkj9ppFhTwdYtrBFREdI4CninWrWFSL0KuTI9Lv44G8mrw/s1600/green+beans.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">How I got
children who love their vegetables so very much, I am not completely sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nan goes weak in the knees if someone even
speaks the word corn, and Suzy about cries when she brings in the very first
tomato from the garden(and yes I know they are technically fruit, but we all
know they should be classified as veggies) and Jenny makes the best darn green
beans that you have ever tasted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love our
family meal times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a lot of us
around the table, even with Luke all grown up and married to sweet Danielle,
there is still 7 of us around the table and 5 of them are kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That makes for very loud dinner
conversations, I assure you and may I add some very strange ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My girls are like me, their brains jump from
one thought to another so quickly that Jason just sits back and watches dumb
founded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he smiles, and we laugh and
it is quite simply the best time of my day, well except for days when I have a
migraine, then it’s just loud.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t help
but think about how sad it is in the millions of homes where kids come and go
as they please, dinner jumps around between Arby’s or Wendy’s or the spot on
the couch right in front of the T.V.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
one cares as long as they are fed sometime before they climb into bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a fairly strict mealtime at our
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fluctuates only slightly if
Jason is running late from work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
kids are done with friend time an hour before so they can come home or send
their friends home so as a family we can do a quick clean up around the house
while I cook dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually some of
them are downstairs picking up from friends and some are up helping me with
dinner and then shortly after Jason comes home dinner is on the table and all
of us let out a sigh of relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heads
are then bowed and quiet is heard while one or another of them offers thanks to
Heavenly Father for our crazy family and wonderful food, and then chaos starts
again as the jabbers start and the day’s stories are told.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes I
like to sit back and watch when one of the kids’ friends stays for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it’s their first time their eyes are
usually enormous and their mouths are usually slightly ajar as they watch the
very loud joy…that’s what I like to call it…joy…burst out around our
table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know though, those kids
usually keep coming back and before long they are joining in in the crazy
excitement that is dinner around our house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3qU9fAULElrNJ4lo8dLDts7Dm-5SJHvFOAvMzDGZh1gxC4pPBkYiOxfQLcCUSQVeJbyytdYqtaOWtZPS_cbiiSTZoaNTo1J-RBiiCHZVjoW8pJp7hTIQgnaYDFfm7W21jSSRe16wEU0/s1600/table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3qU9fAULElrNJ4lo8dLDts7Dm-5SJHvFOAvMzDGZh1gxC4pPBkYiOxfQLcCUSQVeJbyytdYqtaOWtZPS_cbiiSTZoaNTo1J-RBiiCHZVjoW8pJp7hTIQgnaYDFfm7W21jSSRe16wEU0/s1600/table.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know our
kids will leave the house one day and that will be one of their favorite
memories of growing up with Mom and Dad and I am all too happy to accommodate
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, those memories will be
some of the sweetest ones that they will ever have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder how many of the rest of the families
around the world are taking time to make those memories in the rush and bustle
and convenience foods of our modern day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If they are not, then they are missing out on perhaps one of the
greatest gifts that God has given us…the dinner table.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-24390971458278199242014-05-01T09:51:00.002-06:002014-05-01T09:59:53.421-06:00Finding Time for Nothing<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8srTGqHRwqL_FaHukTr7EWU1Wbas4dyWJl2Rmfxc0Mm679wrvRzOR_2XJ7MrI1pKvxup87UMkHedt4-DLySBu5sPUUE2I3dUKkn35g5JeITkgbkPVBXBx6g12v0ovq_XKm6kUVZcL5SU/s1600/star+greenhand.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8srTGqHRwqL_FaHukTr7EWU1Wbas4dyWJl2Rmfxc0Mm679wrvRzOR_2XJ7MrI1pKvxup87UMkHedt4-DLySBu5sPUUE2I3dUKkn35g5JeITkgbkPVBXBx6g12v0ovq_XKm6kUVZcL5SU/s1600/star+greenhand.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Could life
get any busier?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t that awful that that
was the first thought that went through my mind last night at the FFA
Banquet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenny got up and sang a
beautiful rendition of Friends in Low Places…yes that’s right I said
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an FFA Banquet after
all, she had to sing something country, and well, yes, my daughter would pick
that song, and with her bluesy voice you almost forgot what the song was about…friends
in low places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Nan won The Star
Greenhand award.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes smiling giggling
Nan who has to be to every FFA thing even if her group wasn’t in charge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then of course came the selection of
officers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nan’s office on the committee
is Auditor and Jenny, well Jenny got Secretary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOo7wHtnnye8e1uXow1dkJBsyQoOJI92j_NQZuZbHl95lb_UY4sOeAsxUiAHPMSrL7fOpWowgflSrkMRNFkrbXPeip_ipGXJnAQlqBg50BILbYO4ox4MBCW6WuwjjFGPNSeu56-phX2mk/s1600/ffa+nan+jen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOo7wHtnnye8e1uXow1dkJBsyQoOJI92j_NQZuZbHl95lb_UY4sOeAsxUiAHPMSrL7fOpWowgflSrkMRNFkrbXPeip_ipGXJnAQlqBg50BILbYO4ox4MBCW6WuwjjFGPNSeu56-phX2mk/s1600/ffa+nan+jen.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now can you see why the thought that went through my mind was…”Can life
possibly get any busier?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was really
excited for both the girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I
not be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with Miss Nephi for the next
year and a million FFA things, a daughter who is becoming a senior, Jason’s
work, all of our dances, life as the Young Women’s President with a yearlong
Youth Conference on a ward level, soccer season soon to start and oh, yeah, a
wedding in June life is going to get even busier!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I saw a spot
on our local news about mom’s putting their kids in too many activities and how
our children get so involved in so many things that they don’t know how to
handle down time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How activities are
important but at the same time children need to remember how to be children and
sometimes their lives need to not be so structured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It talked about all the stress that these
children face that we didn’t use to face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know that mom that has their kid in everything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sure do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every dance class, singing class, youth sport, craft class, acting
class, plays every instrument and in every school program that exists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often wonder how that child can grow up to
be anything but an overly stressed adult who doesn’t know how to relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m mean pick up a book already and snuggle
down, or better yet grab up the neighborhood kids and play an awesome game of
whiffle ball in the back yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ride your
bike, run through a sprinkler, sit and talk and talk some more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sure my
girls take piano and Sam and Steph play soccer but quite honestly by the time
soccer season was done and I had spent the last million weeks running from one
game to another, sometimes dividing my time running between two kids’ games
going on at the same time when Sam wanted to do football I thought that I would
die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But make it through we did, but I’m
telling you just barely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You add in
scouts and achievement days and Young Women’s and dances on the weekends and
every other normal routine I couldn’t help but wonder how not the children
survive but the moms who have their child in everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know it makes me tired even thinking
about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Summer is
almost here which means as always crazy things on the Gibson household and part
of me wants to cry when I think of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>May is end of year everything with every school, whether it involves our
own kids’ school or others with our business or both, May is out of
control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we have an out of town family
reunion the first week of June, Sam’s Birthday and Luke’s wedding the second
week, girls camp the third week with Jason and my anniversary thrown in the
middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edurocross at the Fairgrounds,
and a car show in Fillmore the next week that we do sound for.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">July
continues with a tornado of things to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>4<sup>th</sup> of July the first week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Stampede the second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big Youth
Conference out of town Week the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Twenty fourth of July the next with Stephanie’s birthday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUPk_ct0DVAE6NJxsWY5d1OztrSe_P3IFKDhu9LGrM6487EIZo2HDdDYdMGX_gQRgt97VsogaO6vT9W2HtS8BearJKMIX8yL7HpLhCUgkbTK8OB-F3YzJNgJrSH5-95WEZYOUzyAVRWN8/s1600/dances.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUPk_ct0DVAE6NJxsWY5d1OztrSe_P3IFKDhu9LGrM6487EIZo2HDdDYdMGX_gQRgt97VsogaO6vT9W2HtS8BearJKMIX8yL7HpLhCUgkbTK8OB-F3YzJNgJrSH5-95WEZYOUzyAVRWN8/s1600/dances.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">August is
Cove Fort Days followed by Juab County fair the next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next week is the Miss Nebo pageant that
Jason does lights for two days for with the next week being Beaver County that
we do sound and photo booth for, for three days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then of course back to school week for
our kids and back to school week for BYU which is crazy for two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Throw in on
top of all of that BYU activities all summer long that we do sound or giant
movie screen for and oh yeah, Miss Nephi. See Jenny's off today for her first of many Miss Nephi things, casual today as it may be, but... you get the drift. (Isn't she pretty though? :) )</span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnrSKTOlRK7WsXZPf75YBxAwvycdEBChTq8QDuBF-ll8MZM6qbVzUZL7_r_frfxKUPd6XiCBLp1DBHVw2BphnRcpylr3f78ZDltZBnaWj3j_RskbohzaXOJopT3Xjk7070XRASKCs8p8/s1600/miss+nephi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnrSKTOlRK7WsXZPf75YBxAwvycdEBChTq8QDuBF-ll8MZM6qbVzUZL7_r_frfxKUPd6XiCBLp1DBHVw2BphnRcpylr3f78ZDltZBnaWj3j_RskbohzaXOJopT3Xjk7070XRASKCs8p8/s1600/miss+nephi.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5d3rtPzLM2ozHasuoTQz75QchTnMJvVqUD1Rdkjfy6gEitZoLb90KVUPdCx1zzWtjyBvhayW0oEhTGWSUJfmxD8_4HDFtILtOELKjtqK9rO5mmCd-YfPgihTjO-PBI8uz8cSfcdESkOg/s1600/bbq.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5d3rtPzLM2ozHasuoTQz75QchTnMJvVqUD1Rdkjfy6gEitZoLb90KVUPdCx1zzWtjyBvhayW0oEhTGWSUJfmxD8_4HDFtILtOELKjtqK9rO5mmCd-YfPgihTjO-PBI8uz8cSfcdESkOg/s1600/bbq.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Somehow in
all of the craziness we will find time to have a lazy barbeque and even take
our kids to the local ponds here to swim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Somehow I will find time to read another novel and do yard work, plant
the garden and just sit back and watch nature in its full beauty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yeah I guess
I can’t understand why any mom, or child for that matter would want to heap so
much on their plates, when the plates all seem to be filling themselves up on
their own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would we want to pile
them so high that our body is at a buffet all of the time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know what that would do, don’t you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make us fat…very, very fat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m grateful
for a mother who knew the importance of down time and relax time and most of
all family time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a husband who is
absolutely amazing but can never sit still…ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he doesn’t have a dance on the weekends,
which is only a few times a year, he goes stir crazy not having something to
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am content just to sit here
and read a good book or chat in the front room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And very little seems to stress me out in life and somehow I think that
goes with the ability to do nothing if the time allows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So here’s to finding time to do exactly that
this summer…nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to sit back
and enjoy all that Heavenly Father has given me and time to look inside a little
bit and look at who I am becoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I
wish you the same, because really the best things in life come when things are
quiet and we can really enjoy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-27957447372081541552014-04-22T10:10:00.000-06:002014-04-23T09:05:15.975-06:00Whirlwind<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq_sw4raPl6BD6YB0V_l4GQx2DMkagEFlHsv9vTAUNVg53HtWxv4a1IpnUc05J3d5ioum19aMSEUMtA2-K005aMPMSFusgjAzk4-pM_sDOTJF3ycLQ5F1BJBG9XS_sILi5d7uuxAlxAQ/s1600/whirlwind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq_sw4raPl6BD6YB0V_l4GQx2DMkagEFlHsv9vTAUNVg53HtWxv4a1IpnUc05J3d5ioum19aMSEUMtA2-K005aMPMSFusgjAzk4-pM_sDOTJF3ycLQ5F1BJBG9XS_sILi5d7uuxAlxAQ/s1600/whirlwind.jpg" height="320" width="218" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ever been
caught up in a whirlwind?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Covered your
eyes as little pieces of dust and debris seem to whisk through your hair and
beat against your corneas?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you hold
your breath and squeeze those eyes tight waiting for the mere seconds that felt
like eternity that it took for it to twist away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you ever watched a whirlwind as it
drifted across a freshly plowed field picking up pieces of dirt and sand
twisting and turning it into a tunnel heavenward and realized from a distance
just how magnificent it was when you were many feet safely away from it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it that when we are in the middle of something
so spectacular all we feel is the destruction and we are unable to see the
beauty that just a few feet’s difference would allow us to see?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last two
weeks for me were exactly that, a whirlwind of one amazing thing after another
jumbled up all around me and all I could see was the insides of my eyes as I
covered them tight and just prayed to make it through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I sit here at my computer, a day’s rest
under my belt, and it is amazing from a distance exactly the magnificence that
I see.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jenny tried
out again for Miss Nephi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has spent
the past year living, eating breathing and living service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister in law the ever talented Annalee
Dinkel and Jenny took a song, A Little Party Never Killed Nobody, by Fergie and
from the Great Gatsby and broke it up into Jenny’s own, a little jazzy and
complete romantic number and spent so many weeks getting it perfect, and as a
mother I should have been totally excited for the great day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But all I was was a jumble of nerves for
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You only want your child to leave
any experience feeling completely satisfied in themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Here is the link on facebook of Jenny's song. Jason recorded it from clear up in the sound booth and he didn't realize that she started on the stage and then worked her way down. He set the camera and then went back to sound and lights so at first you can only hear her, but be patient it very quickly goes to her...</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202815789091087&set=vb.1091815888&type=2&theater">https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202815789091087&set=vb.1091815888&type=2&theater</a> wasn't she amazing?</span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcFQa_GilcXdQffcHTECzEaNS1vo7XRtxe2UB9Egte5KHXtWRsD9Qd8CLKvJTYOP13inpuGPspXtQ3jPSt1wqzMSJ-VMHDXlK7X8HVcP8ZlCNkFQhfWFOV3-Mn0i4lBiUUE5YK7eEiH0/s1600/kids+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcFQa_GilcXdQffcHTECzEaNS1vo7XRtxe2UB9Egte5KHXtWRsD9Qd8CLKvJTYOP13inpuGPspXtQ3jPSt1wqzMSJ-VMHDXlK7X8HVcP8ZlCNkFQhfWFOV3-Mn0i4lBiUUE5YK7eEiH0/s1600/kids+poster.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4XqfGBdFzDC7PLtrYd7PFhOHj9eIHf0kpRGX31sMULdWYeJOVdqRrmrh4MpqvmRA5WXfy-0f976XHPaY-hS9zQtsZZ0q25-Kw695i_s11Np4q0HWRuGZEjLenVVAtFpIQ_Dp12jl65lY/s1600/dad+and+valarie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4XqfGBdFzDC7PLtrYd7PFhOHj9eIHf0kpRGX31sMULdWYeJOVdqRrmrh4MpqvmRA5WXfy-0f976XHPaY-hS9zQtsZZ0q25-Kw695i_s11Np4q0HWRuGZEjLenVVAtFpIQ_Dp12jl65lY/s1600/dad+and+valarie.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The week
before was crazy and let me add kids were home from school for spring break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monday I spent the morning helping my mother
and my little brother, driving him from one area of the state to another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tuesday was a much needed day spent breaking
my back and trying to springize our yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wednesday we went to work with Jason and hung out, well really nowhere,
finding rocks for Stephanie’s school project and making a big banner for my
Father and Step Mom as they were arriving home from their 18 month mission in
the Philippines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it was off to the
airport to welcome them home and dinner at a restaurant with the whole
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thursday I was able to spend the
day with the two of them getting some of their life back up and running in
Utah, driver’s license, cars licensed, phone shopping, grocery shopping,
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friday was catch up from not being
home for days and an early dance at BYU.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Saturday was my cute nephew Aiden’s baptism and then picking my Grandmother
and Uncle Dan up from the airport with my Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They flew in from Minnesota and I hadn’t seen my Uncle in almost 20
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunday was my Dad’s and Step Mom’s
homecoming and dinner and then rush home for a church meeting about Girl’s
Camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monday I spent the whole day
helping Jenny with her Miss Nephi poster </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98JfRVBfebiEzcYcz-OCVvOt57Yk3KgHbnvO_uafraaVyA9Mq03Si9v1IOBA62YeCr_QX2UKMDGH0wlSYSVisUSQ_DY0LI9Yh9sg04rZVwCiliG1vyIhExeyEW3ytUcunGnkECM87zCU/s1600/poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98JfRVBfebiEzcYcz-OCVvOt57Yk3KgHbnvO_uafraaVyA9Mq03Si9v1IOBA62YeCr_QX2UKMDGH0wlSYSVisUSQ_DY0LI9Yh9sg04rZVwCiliG1vyIhExeyEW3ytUcunGnkECM87zCU/s1600/poster.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
finishing it up and displaying all of
her gazillion service projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
night was spent about 5 hours at Miss Nephi practice with Jason and Nan running
sound and lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHabe5ZiSh1-VHMOFLLghoxH11T86CCfx8KFvzofZjfGTd6DbWowayoW0CBawRavogcyUpeYY9l72HHfhyphenhyphenUNZ8gNigL_pcv1WjHeDoKDcWpTndGoH79clk2EyUS5t10ffJqFcDAIxspo/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHabe5ZiSh1-VHMOFLLghoxH11T86CCfx8KFvzofZjfGTd6DbWowayoW0CBawRavogcyUpeYY9l72HHfhyphenhyphenUNZ8gNigL_pcv1WjHeDoKDcWpTndGoH79clk2EyUS5t10ffJqFcDAIxspo/s1600/baby.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Then Tuesday morning
was babysitting the sweetest little girl in the world and taking some quiet
moments to snuggle and relax while I tried to ease my nerves which was followed
by Miss Nephi that afternoon and night and watching Jenny with my nerves wound
so tight that when the relief came and she did everything so very flawlessly
ending up with the title of first attendant all I wanted to do was go home and
puke and cry for joy all at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw06n3wDsrKvotO8t2dYOnGAkjEwZ-FU2I3ID1TA4rRqzKp_4l-IugUhVJjDR7-4Ufr-C8RNfbFWirzSBJbrh9GkhF2KiYw4e0p4tZMaF_JdL4ya7TdTIbQeVqneU02ZjG04dokxfVq3Y/s1600/IMG_7396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw06n3wDsrKvotO8t2dYOnGAkjEwZ-FU2I3ID1TA4rRqzKp_4l-IugUhVJjDR7-4Ufr-C8RNfbFWirzSBJbrh9GkhF2KiYw4e0p4tZMaF_JdL4ya7TdTIbQeVqneU02ZjG04dokxfVq3Y/s1600/IMG_7396.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Of Course Jenny is the RedHead with the white and Black Dress for those who don't know.</span></div>
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3A_UEvPPWOpVuW4YSrS40jkaYg-XS2tnIGs9lEFCqQBe01yDrnPn638KqpXWhxFjJJWPCCeJEc45EzRBYGABnTAffg5MhKuIfhpcOf8n7BQhAAV93ATHr5aTTdCFebj805EXi78NGEIQ/s1600/IMG_7406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3A_UEvPPWOpVuW4YSrS40jkaYg-XS2tnIGs9lEFCqQBe01yDrnPn638KqpXWhxFjJJWPCCeJEc45EzRBYGABnTAffg5MhKuIfhpcOf8n7BQhAAV93ATHr5aTTdCFebj805EXi78NGEIQ/s1600/IMG_7406.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wednesday was getting dresses put back together to return to those we
had borrowed them from and making thank you gifts for those who helped her so
much. Thursday was piano for three girls and achievement days and a billion
loads of laundry and dishes and…and…Then Friday was up north with Jason to work
for the temple in the morning and grocery shopping and Easter shopping the rest
of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saturday morning was
cheesecake making for a family party and then a family Egg hunt and coming home
to the eggs that I had hard boiled that morning and coloring them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0XFQkyTAQdn41z07HgsxDlTToWpB5IouXWrOa-yzvdpizDYuZuDC3ht8uqWym94WBet7Eg9zslNFCD3ipa697WTfV7E1rl9JP8ZFUSHPSCYGMAmI_yUdcRnmA3rdU5TDxBzPkOlp3PM/s1600/easter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0XFQkyTAQdn41z07HgsxDlTToWpB5IouXWrOa-yzvdpizDYuZuDC3ht8uqWym94WBet7Eg9zslNFCD3ipa697WTfV7E1rl9JP8ZFUSHPSCYGMAmI_yUdcRnmA3rdU5TDxBzPkOlp3PM/s1600/easter.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tucking kids into bed and then Easter Bunny
stuff when they were finally asleep with an impressive egg hiding job by my
older two girls, Jen and Nan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Off to
sleep to wake up to Easter and Church and Easter barbeque and a nap that just
didn’t seem to help and…and…finally bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then there
was yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day the whirlwind stopped and I cleaned
the house and then took the day very slowly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The day I looked back and realized how much I missed the beauty of it
all being so caught up in the whirlwind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wish I could have stood back sooner and seen the glory for what it
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A million blessings packed in so
tightly that my spirit couldn’t handle it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pretty great life when it is filled with so very many wonderful things
that it wears you completely out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
can I not feel completely grateful?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
that isn’t the most beautiful display of God’s love I don’t know what is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whirlwind and all.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihiLiTP9LD6o6wlHLpqanpVToXyp4lrPDEhpPFFim4ecfT8r0b_saYjS1qm-rujMXJj4qzOZVDAE7DyJwUHkohqHMGy-gLSm5oKH6xs83mmh2I4ojnEWZBH4ZhvFml1z1nOBR6wfk9_90/s1600/IMG_7418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihiLiTP9LD6o6wlHLpqanpVToXyp4lrPDEhpPFFim4ecfT8r0b_saYjS1qm-rujMXJj4qzOZVDAE7DyJwUHkohqHMGy-gLSm5oKH6xs83mmh2I4ojnEWZBH4ZhvFml1z1nOBR6wfk9_90/s1600/IMG_7418.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
Jenny and my grandma her Great Grandma Hoklas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJx1IOEXKbSsBcsnr9uX6ksXZ_TDEBatayXhNMdM_o9iDmG2mCIQQvJeBzGvlaVYpacpBZVu4EhQBwVup0kTD3okjmpz0Imxkhk18pEwt_I3i_LCUk7A-SD7Mr7ze4R9VAkL0tir9j1M/s1600/IMG_7421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJx1IOEXKbSsBcsnr9uX6ksXZ_TDEBatayXhNMdM_o9iDmG2mCIQQvJeBzGvlaVYpacpBZVu4EhQBwVup0kTD3okjmpz0Imxkhk18pEwt_I3i_LCUk7A-SD7Mr7ze4R9VAkL0tir9j1M/s1600/IMG_7421.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
Jenny and my mom my grandma and my Uncle Dan her Great Uncle Dan.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8aX_SWb2tDP_TOgoY1J6OuBm_rXdPYXSdkb5AKK-K_fb5QAWxm1ylaELGgxAixYyrzrtwv4_oH_toz6mkY2BX3RKy-saT7fB8BbN97CWc2j0zgGZYproIWMnXtIBaxELzBlil7zuz0k/s1600/IMG_7432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8aX_SWb2tDP_TOgoY1J6OuBm_rXdPYXSdkb5AKK-K_fb5QAWxm1ylaELGgxAixYyrzrtwv4_oH_toz6mkY2BX3RKy-saT7fB8BbN97CWc2j0zgGZYproIWMnXtIBaxELzBlil7zuz0k/s1600/IMG_7432.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
Jenny and her boyfriend. Love that kid!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-TZ6BCbi3WP-OlXwaL6FmijRvcQuTszMw2CzM3NSd1uyk5yYwjoRwGUI8VQ_pomGoQQM60TQ-klGPsV5jjJhpLFfkET9s33GG76pOteEr9BpxzLXMMx1bpX2WqmRMVSPLx9MgzYhJUw/s1600/IMG_7437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-TZ6BCbi3WP-OlXwaL6FmijRvcQuTszMw2CzM3NSd1uyk5yYwjoRwGUI8VQ_pomGoQQM60TQ-klGPsV5jjJhpLFfkET9s33GG76pOteEr9BpxzLXMMx1bpX2WqmRMVSPLx9MgzYhJUw/s1600/IMG_7437.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
Jenny and the Awesome Annalee.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapy0oXWPkziYj_2oRLKldAPuws79ll6NGgHx251wXc6qTkHtwAnwzsdWjWqeMY1a3vXHRnSuqvBU2EgWj4cXIRqiI8QPwnuAXNxlmALYCRhkOcbMZhw8fWDvcHaZjpwPITDq0NrP_wEM/s1600/IMG_7441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapy0oXWPkziYj_2oRLKldAPuws79ll6NGgHx251wXc6qTkHtwAnwzsdWjWqeMY1a3vXHRnSuqvBU2EgWj4cXIRqiI8QPwnuAXNxlmALYCRhkOcbMZhw8fWDvcHaZjpwPITDq0NrP_wEM/s1600/IMG_7441.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jenny and Stephanie.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhlW3FJ0k9aFwm3A0UdMP7LUOf4ciCX1gHToZh_bCRXeNKF65eIRacPuQG1a11dAxZn49jX7xS_5Ua4IyJwb8bfh2GIlY-3weJss_RsY9utf0GMTfXWWNASl-ZdqhMzV_gRGDtM24lLY/s1600/IMG_7459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhlW3FJ0k9aFwm3A0UdMP7LUOf4ciCX1gHToZh_bCRXeNKF65eIRacPuQG1a11dAxZn49jX7xS_5Ua4IyJwb8bfh2GIlY-3weJss_RsY9utf0GMTfXWWNASl-ZdqhMzV_gRGDtM24lLY/s1600/IMG_7459.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
Jenny and Nan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHVrVpTO2B9DDltaKsUXYEnfxGMp14g6_h2Fb-pTwPAfGGF1IgOyg_lnJJAF5ACPULu3fkNdk8yRc_aqIIVeGXt5vfCW_xKHbqlEEgU_WmN-2M3TAjwuxALKSYDMSIlY-TWwsu5T07-c/s1600/IMG_7456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWHVrVpTO2B9DDltaKsUXYEnfxGMp14g6_h2Fb-pTwPAfGGF1IgOyg_lnJJAF5ACPULu3fkNdk8yRc_aqIIVeGXt5vfCW_xKHbqlEEgU_WmN-2M3TAjwuxALKSYDMSIlY-TWwsu5T07-c/s1600/IMG_7456.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
Jenny and her Dad!<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15627337313481778782noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173643065824086748.post-55715334593402861892014-03-20T12:51:00.001-06:002014-03-20T12:53:59.969-06:00Christmas in March???<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had just gotten
done working out, slow start to my day…I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Out of the shower clean, chicken breast for my lunch smelling so yummy
as it cooked on the stove and my fingers immersed in warm bubbles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I washed dishes I looked across the
backyard and into the neighbor’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
years of the house behind us with wild weeds and no yard finally it is getting
done and I have enjoyed watching our local nursery in town doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gets my green thumb humming so to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So peaceful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the background I had a Christmas album playing, life was sweet…wait,
did I just say Christmas?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know, I
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anyone hates winter no one does
more than me, so why would someone who has been reveling in the 50 to 60 degree
weather that we have been having be listening to Christmas music, you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll tell you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now I’m not
one of those crazies who has “Jingle Bells” and “Silent Night” blaring through
my house on a perfectly delectable spring day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m insane, but not that insane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It started with me finishing up scripture study time with a feeling or
need for the spirit to continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
did I do, go to my trusty iPhone and bring up my playlist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now my spiritual playlist has been gone
over so many times that even on random order I can tell you what is coming up
next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to make a new playlist, but since I have
upgraded computers I have been too lazy to get my phone synced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to lose everything and start
from square one on my music list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
what did that leave me with for today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some bouncy dance music, good for getting my groove on but not what I
had in mind, a karaoke song that I have for Jenny and a Christmas Album.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">First
instinct was play the same old same old boring playlist and then the thought, why
not Christmas music?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I can almost see Jason rolling his eyes
as he reads this and going, “Really.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But this album only has a few traditional Christmas songs on it, those I
promptly skipped through I might add, and the rest are just some very sweet
songs about Christ’s birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why shouldn’t
that be the music that we listen to all year?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have a
favorite song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One that no matter how
many times that I hear it I can still be completely brought to tears…”I Just
Knew,” by Cherie Call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to a
little very up close and personal concert that she had once in Midway when she
asked for song requests. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked for
that song as we sat in the very pleasant summer weather on the very soft green
lawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she smiled sweet as could be,
because that is what Cherie is, one of the nicest people that you will ever
meet, and explained to me that that was a Christmas song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope, not that evening did I get my “I Just
Knew,” fix (which by the way if you haven’t ever heard that song you need
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s beautiful).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered then as I wonder now, why is that
song a Christmas song?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not “Oh
Little Town of Bethlehem” or “We Three Kings” so what makes it a Christmas
song?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it merely because it talks of
Christ’s Birth and if so are we only allowed to listen to songs about Christ’s
Birth on Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that same line of
thinking are we only supposed to talk about Christ’s Birth at Christmas?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only celebrate the miracle of it at
Christmas?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0EJ2vQ9aRMEvYEsOyw-UjuqJ5nQ6kCJDusTfGUcSrnz8TFnOqrizfwQASqfVaLrzpEfUeEbDiKBLwfB2C8X0gj2HEYJBCTvOruCl8ts3NjR5NnQHiPLx6NM8Ouc-gv7x9dGnO6rMhtE/s1600/nativity.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0EJ2vQ9aRMEvYEsOyw-UjuqJ5nQ6kCJDusTfGUcSrnz8TFnOqrizfwQASqfVaLrzpEfUeEbDiKBLwfB2C8X0gj2HEYJBCTvOruCl8ts3NjR5NnQHiPLx6NM8Ouc-gv7x9dGnO6rMhtE/s1600/nativity.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One year for
Christmas my amazing hubby Jason bought me a Willow Tree Nativity Set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always wanted one and he was so sweet,
getting it ahead of time so that I could enjoy it the whole Christmas season
and having a beautiful Alder shelf made with the exact measurements of the
nativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved it and when Christmas
ended I almost cried having to put it away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rest of the year I struggled coming up with things to put on that
beautiful shelf but nothing, and I mean nothing looked right up there, after
all it was made specially down to the square inch for that nativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvX_HKUHV1ns-h-11nyZxixW1Pm6G1EQvyyI3uvSaI8mj8x8bSvZvo8AmK-n5C8XAmg5XjZlPnuhBWSt6K8LaG98TM6UkzJvxaKcChlRoexHrzD76nIqAltNHND4WTYkIghhHXn2rPBw/s1600/wall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvX_HKUHV1ns-h-11nyZxixW1Pm6G1EQvyyI3uvSaI8mj8x8bSvZvo8AmK-n5C8XAmg5XjZlPnuhBWSt6K8LaG98TM6UkzJvxaKcChlRoexHrzD76nIqAltNHND4WTYkIghhHXn2rPBw/s1600/wall.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When
Christmas came round again I pulled those nativity pieces out and put them back
on that shelf and finally the shelf looked whole again and the room did too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So when Christmas ended that year, I didn’t take
those nativity pieces down, instead I did my “Christ Wall” as I call it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Picture of Christ and one of his mother Mary
holding him when he was a baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow
my spirit had been trying to tell me all year long that I shouldn’t forget
Christ’s miraculous birth and I shouldn’t put it away for another year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very few people come to my house and not
notice that even in March I still have the nativity up, you’ll find it there in
August too, but almost all of those who see it tell me how beautiful it is and
how we all should have a “Christ Wall” all year long too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So yes, as I
thought about that today, I thought that maybe it would be okay if I listened
for a little while to the music that spoke of his sweet birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can I not have a home and a heart filled
with absolute peace when my mind is picturing a sweet baby cuddled close to his
mother as the rest of the world gave a sigh of gratitude when finally their
Redeemer had come? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that it’s March,
and I know that my daffodils are winking back at me across my flower beds in beautiful
spring warmth, and although that is part of the reason that my heart is still
and sweet and oh so happy, but more importantly it is because I am thinking of
him today, and grateful for the birth of My King today and looking at those
beautiful flowers and this beautiful weather and knowing that He is the one who
sent it to me, because He loves me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today
I will not forget that, and I will not forget Him, even if to someone else I
may seem like “The Crazy Christmas Lady” today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWXKwHB2DRfof9I6BYSV8lu_ajL2-UiTHICEjbe0CE49Mkp5THy9bvaXwnvzZazGSksoeEyvwaUOkr1UPIWgZgxF5m3iq9itvH3eBR0Mdl3eDkdRg2vivXNTH9Ie_o4aCqp6tNniKuM4/s1600/mary+and+the+star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWXKwHB2DRfof9I6BYSV8lu_ajL2-UiTHICEjbe0CE49Mkp5THy9bvaXwnvzZazGSksoeEyvwaUOkr1UPIWgZgxF5m3iq9itvH3eBR0Mdl3eDkdRg2vivXNTH9Ie_o4aCqp6tNniKuM4/s1600/mary+and+the+star.jpg" height="320" width="230" /></a></div>
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