tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22688652801674551812024-02-19T08:41:02.162-07:00Raw ChristianUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger258125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-27136723581274299882017-08-29T14:33:00.000-06:002017-08-31T09:31:20.426-06:00The Cons of Home School<b>#3 </b>Write a post that begins and ends with the same sentence. <br />
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<b>Home school:</b> <i>Where you get to be a student for another 13 years!</i><br />
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I know our family chose to home school so there is no one to blame, but ourselves! <b>Read: I get to do school all over again.</b> I did my time. I did my job as a kid/weirdo middle schooler/hormonal teenager. Maybe I am a perpetual academic type or maybe I am secretly torturing myself. Either way...<br />
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<b>There are cons to home schooling and I am not too cowardly to share them:</b> </div>
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<b>1</b>. Sometimes explaining how to and why we diagram sentences is about as much fun as an ingrown toenail. Hmmm, is that a adjective or an adverb? Yes, I taught English as a second language and literacy for six years, but the plethora of rules/exceptions in our language just blows. <br />
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<b>2</b>. Being asked, "How do you socialize your kids?" <i>I don't. We only let them out of their cage for food, bathing and school. </i>You didn't take that last line seriously, right?<br />
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<b>3</b>. There are no tax dollars provided to educate or feed my sons. <br />
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<b>4</b>. I love my children, but sometimes being around them makes this Christian woman consider checking in with a psychiatrist on the condition of my mental health.<br />
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<b>5</b>. The myth that home school children are always wide-eyed, eager and enthusiastic about learning <u><b>whatever</b></u> and that they sit super still, listen attentively and never-ever tap their pencil...Um, not just no, but... <br />
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<b>6</b>. I am the teacher <b>of all subjects</b> (<i>even the ones I struggled with while in school</i>), the counselor, lunch lady, nurse, truancy officer, referee, principal, and sometimes curriculum writer for my sons. I am only qualified by law to be a teacher. Oh, and lest not forget I am the mom (this creates all sorts of conflicts of interests). By the way, I am a decent lunch lady!<br />
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No, I am not asking you to feel sorry for me. I really do love this home school journey. There are many, <b><u>plenty</u></b> of beautiful benefits, blessings, memories and no regrets to teaching my sons at home. One of my favorite memories is I taught them how to read and it was an incredible experience I am glad I now possess. Yet, there are cons to everything. Insert the cliche: <u>bittersweet</u>. <br />
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So for those frustrating moments or weeks, I am reminded of another con of <b>home school</b>: </div>
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<i>Where you get to be a student for another 13 years!</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-29910901321987835982017-08-03T06:46:00.004-06:002017-08-03T06:53:58.120-06:00The Feminine Needs Aisle Scam!<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1. Write a blog post in exactly eight lines</span></b><br />
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Is it wrong that when I strolled down the <b>"Feminine Needs" aisle</b> I was expecting more than pads and tampons?<br />
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I was hoping for a massage therapist, chocolate, gourmet coffee, books, my best girlfriends to share in the fortune and the modern Captain America and Thor. <br />
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All in one skinny section of the food market.<br />
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Of course, that didn't happen. I was so disappointed!<br />
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Really, my grocery store should rename the section "Once a month, inconvenient, annoying, embarrassing products for women."<br />
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Okay, that would be too long, but would it hurt to just call it what it is for once?<br />
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Why kill my desires with deceiving titles?<br />
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Just saying!<br />
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Linking up today with a fun blogger over at <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/">Mamas Losin It</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-44508932496143587042017-08-01T07:02:00.000-06:002017-08-03T07:04:14.377-06:00A years of No Posts...I have not written for a whole year! I know, why keep a blog? I was not done with it, but the past year (2016) and a half for our family has not been all easy breezy. I also needed a break from feeling pressured to just write anything so that others who so kindly read my ramblings would not quit my blog.<br />
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My dad had a stroke this June. My husband had an accident, surgery, tests and more surgery all in 2016.<br />
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It is easy to write when you are not distracted. Sure, I had material to write about, but I just couldn't do it.<br />
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My point is that I plan to return and write here again starting this August. I am in the process of considering making changes to the blog. Thank you if you have kept following me. I appreciate it more than words can express. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-13294644034702542722015-08-24T13:51:00.000-06:002015-08-31T13:07:52.210-06:00EDS: Ehlers Danlos Syndrome-What you talkin' about Willis?<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Both my husband and son have been diagnosed with a once thought rare condition called <b>Ehlers</b> <b>Danlos Syndrome</b> or <b>EDS</b> for short. I have to share this story because MANY people have it and do not even know it. They need to know what it is since it can be debilitating and even deadly...</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Around the age of four,<i> </i>I noticed my son's ankles<i>.</i> They drooped in towards each other. It looked bizarro, and wrong, so at age 6, I finally took him to the doctor. And she referred him to a pediatric orthopedic. I figured this doctor would look at his ankles, measure his height, ya know, go through the typical procedures and routine. Then, offer us an explanation and a solution. Uh, nope. Bigger deal than weird ankles.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">She looked at him from head to toe. Asked a billion questions and then preceded to tell me, "Your son has Scolios and I am recommending he be checked by a geneticist for EDS." ...Silence, confusion...huh? Say what? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> She let me know (very respectfully and gently) what in the world EDS was and the concerns and the best place to get information. We took an x-ray of his back and it confirmed the Scolios. We had to go get his feet molded for inserts he will have to wear for the rest of his life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Before I tell you what EDS is in case you don't know, I will be honest...I was shocked, wanted to panic/worry, and melt into a puddle on the floor, but I kept it together long enough to break down a bit at home. Then, after much prayer and with renewed strength/faith in the Lord, I was on a mission to help my sweet boy! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ehlers Danlos Syndrome is a genetically inherited disease that effects all connective tissues, think joints/tendons, etc. Those who have the disease don't produce collagen so their joints are very loose. There are 6 major types and my son and husband (who passed on the syndrome) have Hyper-mobility Type. This means they can do cool party tricks with their body (think double-jointed which is actually what EDS is). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On a serious note, it really means a life time of fighting your body! It can cause random pain, chronic pain, dislocations, trapped and or stretched nerves, sprains/strains and muscle tears as well as other physical problems to the point of not being able to use parts of their bodies. One can injure themselves just through ordinary activities. EDS has been called the invisible disease and here is why...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>What is really hard is that those with EDS look normal and healthy</b></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> on the outside<i> </i>so people have acted like my family is making this up and many doctors have misdiagnosed my husband, ignored the diagnosis or worse told us it was "all in our heads." </b></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">However, many people have believed us and been supportive and that is huge when you are facing something daunting like a diagnosis. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sometimes it is hard to swallow the blows of living in a fallen, imperfect world, but I am finding that as I have placed this crazy EDS in God's hands, I have been better at supporting, advocating and being compassionate towards my husband and son. This answer, although not one any of us want, has brought so much understanding to past peculiar injuries and physical problems my husband has had in the past. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I know God is carrying my family gently through each day, week and month that EDS makes itself known that it is still there. The greatest reaction I can have is giving every part of this to our Lord Jesus and in return he meets me right where I am...and yet, where I am moves and changes...my respect, my reverie, <u>my understanding who he really is</u> grows.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>To learn more about Ehlers Danlos Syndrom </b>go to <a href="http://edsawareness.com/">Edsawareness.com </a></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">and or </span></span></span><cite class="_Rm"><a href="http://www.ednf.org/">www.ednf.org</a></cite></span><br />
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<cite class="_Rm"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Happily linking up with Jen and other sweet sisters at <a href="http://www.findingheaventoday.com/p/about-soli-deo-gloria.html">http://www.findingheaventoday.com/p/about-soli-deo-gloria.html</a></span> </cite><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-7697039206738055262015-07-07T10:36:00.001-06:002015-07-07T10:41:33.281-06:00Challenge(s)<i>Write a post inspired by the word: challenge</i><br />
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Once again, I find myself baffled and challenged to help my husband figure out which bazillionth, stupid thing is causing his headache, nausea and weird shaking. And no, it isn't coffee.<br />
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The challenge doesn't just come in the mystery trigger, but also in the
shopping, planning, preparing, and cooking of meals. I am the
grocery CEO and chef so the burden of managing this portion of
our lives has fallen so kindly on me. And I am tired. I have days where I
hate food. <br />
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For roughly two years, we have been creating a color-coded, beautifully crafted spread sheet of what food items cause awful symptoms. This includes a dinner menu, slash grocery list so wifey here doesn't kill her hubby with food.<br />
My spouse (the sweet, special one) has food allergies to oats, <b>chocolate </b>(that is SO wrong), many preservatives and is gluten-intolerant so cooking is <i>rarely</i> ever convenient. If food comes in any packaged, boxed, or canned form, it must be inspected, scrutinized, analyzed, criticized, and often snubbed. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>If you need a vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free, raw, or grain-free recipe-I'm sure I have one. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Yet, there is more to this story than frustration.</i>.. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>I have risen to these challenges. We eat more whole foods in there natural state and we all feel better. Not that we never eat junk food. I have just had to learn to look at food differently, have had to cook more items from scratch and it does taste better, but <span style="font-size: small;">most importantly...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have found God faithful as always...providing strength and ingenuity. I have grown immensely in planning, organizing and executing in ways I did not before and my compassion, patience and gratefulness have deepened for my husband. I find myself getting better at serving others instead of myself. I know that is because of God's work in my family and in me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Changing because of God's doing is always beautiful, but more often than not-painful. I have had to hand over a TON of insanity-sick-of-it moments, but God has exchanged these with periods of peace, joy, laughter and bonding. So even though I still sometimes loathe dealing with food, I know that this is more about his work in my family and me and less about the food. </span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> P.S. I will always miss the convenience of eating out. It is rarer these days and yes, I know that is a spoiled luxury we have in this country.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Linking up at : <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/">MamaKats</a> </span></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-80192528597112305692015-06-23T09:28:00.000-06:002015-06-23T10:37:24.025-06:00Don't ever post pictures of your kids! Here's why...About 6 months ago, I noticed a pattern on my blog statistics...I was looking at who was reading and following my blog. Discovering a certain follower who seemed to target my posts that ONLY had pictures of my children on it, I became alarmed.<br />
So I prayed and gave it some time because I am capable of jumping to conclusions without evidence and sometimes truth.<br />
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Sure enough, I saw God lead me to another post about stalkers (unfortunately, I have had one)...well, this blogger's post was actually about blog stalkers, however, it brought to my attention something I had never thought about. Silly, perhaps, but I realized how naive or thoughtless I can be about the internet even though I know that anything put out in cyber space is usually permanent. Ugh!<br />
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<b>I conducted an experiment on my blog. </b>I took off all the pictures I could find of my children and EVEN ones of me that showed more of me (not that I post scantily clad pictures of myself anywhere).<br />
<b>Did you guess it? </b>That follower quit following me! Hmmm, seems a bit suspicious to me.<br />
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During this process a question came to mind..."Should I really be posting pictures of my children on my blog?" It isn't as if they gave me permission. And, well, we live in an ever growing perverse world where access to people's private lives is so easily attained with a click of a button.<br />
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<u>It is your choice,</u> but I urge you to reconsider giving anyone the temptation to use your pictures for their impure, unholy choice of pleasure!<br />
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<i>*I also deleted a lot of images from my social media page even though that
has some limitations to access and privacy I can set compared to my blog.
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<i>Linking up here: <a href="http://www.solideogloriasisterhood.com/">http://www.solideogloriasisterhood.com/</a></i><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-16643529553645429332015-05-18T14:58:00.002-06:002015-06-23T09:31:10.712-06:00Writer's Workshop...defining emotions in pictures...Thank goodness for Kat Bouska's Writing Workshop...let's just say my motivation for blog writing lately has been practically zilch.<br />
Want to join the movement? Follow it all @ <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/">Mama's Losin It</a><br />
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<b>Prompt #2...</b><i>Define goodness...joy...sorrow...and anger in pictures I have taken. </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Goodness.</b></span></div>
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Strawberry ice cream popsicle? Goodness. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2a-Ne1TFVxnlNSROtfDW5LGoEe5-6ZmRXqHITlQTY4UI5dT0B7OHydzsZD0HIwXk26Qq8jaPyJZdSFrS0zJfOHuCpdTpjnau47_R_T9o_VCQFipXX4s6yfmn8p6Jp-46s8vkANVwC0o/s1600/P1060796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2a-Ne1TFVxnlNSROtfDW5LGoEe5-6ZmRXqHITlQTY4UI5dT0B7OHydzsZD0HIwXk26Qq8jaPyJZdSFrS0zJfOHuCpdTpjnau47_R_T9o_VCQFipXX4s6yfmn8p6Jp-46s8vkANVwC0o/s320/P1060796.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>JOY </b></span></div>
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Maybe you're thinking how in the world is the below picture joy?</div>
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Well...because my house is filled with Star Wars!<br />
Okay, yes that is joyful, but really what brings me joy is the gift of my two sons who just happen to like Star Wars as much as me!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuheBLrHr52ljbWMdKXS-mCPhi1RWYMKZDUGf8JzLZJYYDB5p97HhLI8KFAJU5rkJGe-1PWqpRnkjPP4Plj0pfMBSdxcASCWuNqBjlO7VTyEs2WwK0_O7grxwoAunRjY_apjPBiXZuF5E/s1600/IMG_1789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuheBLrHr52ljbWMdKXS-mCPhi1RWYMKZDUGf8JzLZJYYDB5p97HhLI8KFAJU5rkJGe-1PWqpRnkjPP4Plj0pfMBSdxcASCWuNqBjlO7VTyEs2WwK0_O7grxwoAunRjY_apjPBiXZuF5E/s400/IMG_1789.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Sorrow</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The grass is crying.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All by itself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A lonely place indeed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's how sorrow has been for me, a lonely place. </span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DLLPJOdfOhviTY0VvGS4AiZlj9sT_SsusnUSRMXMkLCZxQqXKrJ4C5zPhGkj3EDtZ90xEF2MmZQRo1rNQ4naq99Kk9BucAdsbD9q8nBTTIha9ro27z1hoVJaM97VEsIlGmFKjC8hQr0/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DLLPJOdfOhviTY0VvGS4AiZlj9sT_SsusnUSRMXMkLCZxQqXKrJ4C5zPhGkj3EDtZ90xEF2MmZQRo1rNQ4naq99Kk9BucAdsbD9q8nBTTIha9ro27z1hoVJaM97VEsIlGmFKjC8hQr0/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Anger</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"He had it coming."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc75vC3NrnkIvZ1ORyYCMFgAPpjct4xKtBhzt0d3g0evUHOT5sgGoFBu6C6B72W3ECG8i0-hN9EYXwAlV32V28qVai0jzcYDVN_d63Uw9vaQAk1rAyDLz4cM1Kh3srvTAvhLY1ruNoZOc/s1600/IMG_1314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc75vC3NrnkIvZ1ORyYCMFgAPpjct4xKtBhzt0d3g0evUHOT5sgGoFBu6C6B72W3ECG8i0-hN9EYXwAlV32V28qVai0jzcYDVN_d63Uw9vaQAk1rAyDLz4cM1Kh3srvTAvhLY1ruNoZOc/s400/IMG_1314.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This really only covers a few of my emotions ya know, but that is another post for another day.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-73329428684386414562015-04-14T09:18:00.001-06:002015-04-14T09:21:31.129-06:00Somewhere between Sheltering and Exposing"Aren't we supposed to be in the world...just not of it?"<br />
"Yes, we are, but..."<br />
"You can't shelter your kids too much, we all have to face the world at some point." <br />
"True. but..."<br />
<br />
When do you know the line between sheltering or exposing too much? Who wrote the rules that said I need to throw my kids to the wolves/the world if I want them to grow up healthy, normal, socialized and so they won't resent me later or run away screaming at the age of 18?<br />
<br />
I home school my kids. I am <i><b>that</b></i> mom, but this is not a post to convince you to do it and I am not going to whine about my rights.<br />
<br />
It is just lately, I have felt uneasy. Not because I am second guessing that God called me to do this for my children at the moment, but because my feathers have been ruffled, so to speak (see conversation above). I don't shy away completely from opposing thoughts. However, my mind gets pinched with doubt. I am great at doubting myself which is why I have to be really intentional at getting hard tasks, etc. accomplished. Since this person challenged me, my thoughts have lingered to questioning if it is less about home schooling versus public school (and it is) and more about fear.<br />
<br />
<b>See, I want to be somewhere between sheltering and exposing</b>...balancing...That. Can. Wait. You will learn it soon enough coupled with what do you do when? If ? Can my children be polite, but powerful when they need to stand up for themselves or others?<br />
Yet, my greatest desire is the opportunity to preserve the child in my children a bit longer more than seeing how they do when they fall. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Roll your eyes, <span style="font-size: small;">but </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>it comes from the fact that before the age of 8, I was super-overexposed to </b> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
sex, adult content, very disturbing/scary images and movies. I was abused by family members and friends of my family and I was blamed! Yes, you read that right.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Perhaps, I am only fueled by fear. Sure, I won't deny it. Yes, I am <u>sometimes</u> guilty of being over-protective. Yet, I know I need to loosen the reigns each year as they grow from little boys, to big boys to young men. Both of my sons need to fail, they need to problem solve on their own and think for themselves. They need to be challenged and tempted. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know it is a trust issue. I was so mistreated that I fear the breaking of </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
their hearts and the aftermath that comes with it. How it destroys innocence and trust. </div>
<br />
I need to trust God with them...with me...knowing he gave them to me...He chose me to be their mom and no matter how I may fail them, he will redeem it. His plans and purposes for them will not be thwarted.<br />
<br />
Happily linking up here today for some authentic sister hood:<br />
<center>
<br /><a href="http://findingheaventoday.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i960.photobucket.com/albums/ae88/jenfergie2000/BloggButton.jpg" /></a></center>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-60007016786154444512015-04-06T09:12:00.001-06:002015-04-06T09:12:10.697-06:00Why I vaccinated my children<i>I really believe that if my Mamaw (name for my grandma) had the choice
to vaccinate my uncle from Polio, she would have, but she didn't have
that choice and he died at the age of 5.</i><br />
<br />
Her story is a huge reason that I chose to vaccinate my children...<i> </i><br />
<br />
Have you noticed the new trend to not vaccinate children? Like breastfeeding, our culture is shifting its values. Some people are misinformed and have been lied to about vaccinations.<br />
It is the parent's choice-well, at least for now.<br />
I believe in the freedom our country gives us and the right to choose what is best for the health of our children, but not vaccinating scares me. <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I am not writing this to judge anyone, again-it is your choice. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
However, there are some <b><u>really important</u></b> aspects to consider when deciding to vaccinate or not...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
1. Vaccinations eradicated small pox and practically banished other deadly diseases from our planet. What a major break through for our world! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
2. If someone from another country comes to ours with measles, mumps, whooping cough, etc. And your child or you are not vaccinated, you both will have a greater chance of getting it!!!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
3. Many of those diseases have, can and will take the lives of those who are not protected by vaccines.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
4. Vaccines can be spread out through the course of a child's life to make it safer for them and those whose body might not be able to handle so many germs all at once.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To me vaccination is NOT a conspiracy by the government as a way to control us...if any thing, it is a way to protect us! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who wants another plague after all?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-39122807373576714802015-04-02T04:00:00.000-06:002015-06-23T09:32:13.486-06:00Silence is Golden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJOnjSyjY9eR9U6tSyuJKzmbJXMPHE5QcLp5aAPA5ktpHTq4uU_dd3CvinwYkltcb2ZohF4gTS9R3OhtHytIbpL74LTCVEf_otVk-QmytTlLIGWt_EoLrhovNf4rZXFCv2rDPbIEW0sg/s1600/ImageProxy.mvc.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJOnjSyjY9eR9U6tSyuJKzmbJXMPHE5QcLp5aAPA5ktpHTq4uU_dd3CvinwYkltcb2ZohF4gTS9R3OhtHytIbpL74LTCVEf_otVk-QmytTlLIGWt_EoLrhovNf4rZXFCv2rDPbIEW0sg/s1600/ImageProxy.mvc.png" /></a></div>
Sing with me if you know the song...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"<i>Silence is golden, golden.</i>"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I grew up hearing this song when my mother was chasing away the chaotic atmosphere and again when in that rare occasion-she experienced actual silence. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She sung it sarcastically when she couldn't fix the crazy times of life. She sung it sincerely with a hint of humor when the house was actually quiet.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, I am finding I do the same thing. I have sung the same words to my husband as our two sons are playing louder than a room full of cawing crows. It is hard to converse when they are so noisy. Harder to concentrate. I often long for a moment to speak without interruption or an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts...drift in dream land.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Yet-sometimes the silence scares me. </b> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A part of me knows that there will be more silence then I care for when the boys are grown up and leave our home. And I loathed the times when I was by myself with my grieving heart after my mom died 8 years ago.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Perhaps, silence is not always golden. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-18028008949573312552015-03-18T11:49:00.001-06:002015-03-18T11:49:14.811-06:00Leprechaun Trap...rats, we didn't catch him!We thought our trap was fool proof! Surely, the little person couldn't escape? I mean, we put a false path and he fell in a hold, was trapped in a box with no way to escape, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-Pt95Enu_M0yp64WVkTcU_PEhITPeXkJxa_Hpx6FHXZEusJGtbSy_bL-gqr5WZU7ksCYM8SaQxIxqmCSZEL7WPK4pNUXol0-DcQQV3Khwr_pxjqhx4rP7HiXrKdv1ZHWgKEW3Gnapz8/s1600/IMG_1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-Pt95Enu_M0yp64WVkTcU_PEhITPeXkJxa_Hpx6FHXZEusJGtbSy_bL-gqr5WZU7ksCYM8SaQxIxqmCSZEL7WPK4pNUXol0-DcQQV3Khwr_pxjqhx4rP7HiXrKdv1ZHWgKEW3Gnapz8/s1600/IMG_1867.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBHuZ-7CDsQ2wZ4ZGuvginz6-GlGqBXbRaqiwpg4EKs_6DpoonwOa52M8sre1qfj9sLer6K_Fn4sqB9qnMA2ygHuKZEYKyXRzBw8zjwzResZ0dkJrs_NffDr3fN7Z-CBfWbodCJvn74k/s1600/IMG_1870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBHuZ-7CDsQ2wZ4ZGuvginz6-GlGqBXbRaqiwpg4EKs_6DpoonwOa52M8sre1qfj9sLer6K_Fn4sqB9qnMA2ygHuKZEYKyXRzBw8zjwzResZ0dkJrs_NffDr3fN7Z-CBfWbodCJvn74k/s1600/IMG_1870.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwA73bpBcoyxJKlg40VmxcokFn3PEG5VKDNMZvsR76pgHNXcCKFA8wXjKoAKBZ83agNiXSKEmrH3NzCF93VkbTetwfJc8V-PZjDmaA7mabqqUgHpPIGaVv4uPtXhgiln1wj4AdgXGnTY/s1600/IMG_1871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwA73bpBcoyxJKlg40VmxcokFn3PEG5VKDNMZvsR76pgHNXcCKFA8wXjKoAKBZ83agNiXSKEmrH3NzCF93VkbTetwfJc8V-PZjDmaA7mabqqUgHpPIGaVv4uPtXhgiln1wj4AdgXGnTY/s1600/IMG_1871.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the false path? The big clover and sequins are disguising the hole.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My boys wanted to finally see a leprechaun. I don't have the heart to tell them the truth yet. I know it is lying, but they are little only once...only vivid imaginations and make-believe for so long.<br />
PERHAPS, if they hadn't set up a party for the leprechaun, who brought reinforcements (friends that is) then we would have caught one...finally!<br />
<br />
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<br />
Well, here is what happened instead of catching the wee, green people...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rYFhZEHDFXQA8fxPP6H0ciOe6hy7UbglOhVw3n3JR5mRo07JLky4EZymD2KnhF5BzbyNlI_sLRatbg5GyKvUJW2WLmpyJEKm448sgfe21MSzUp2xPH8WQ88Gvxl72Q53_elBc_EBV9o/s1600/IMG_1873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rYFhZEHDFXQA8fxPP6H0ciOe6hy7UbglOhVw3n3JR5mRo07JLky4EZymD2KnhF5BzbyNlI_sLRatbg5GyKvUJW2WLmpyJEKm448sgfe21MSzUp2xPH8WQ88Gvxl72Q53_elBc_EBV9o/s1600/IMG_1873.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k0atmA8MwUFqiJg4EH8m-PbXvW-jtKo-pHtzg9kr4x7g0Y47c25KyumLT_2PAgjiuVSJCLedRRnUkzQ2TE2KzItHv7EtSUolQRk3vhtT-k09ikDyCt3Ji4b3HCYst7nXVEITQjINTok/s1600/IMG_1875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k0atmA8MwUFqiJg4EH8m-PbXvW-jtKo-pHtzg9kr4x7g0Y47c25KyumLT_2PAgjiuVSJCLedRRnUkzQ2TE2KzItHv7EtSUolQRk3vhtT-k09ikDyCt3Ji4b3HCYst7nXVEITQjINTok/s1600/IMG_1875.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His vest and hair got left behind, we received a letter and a package that was a green treat (Pistachio pudding).</td></tr>
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And he turned our milk green!!<br />
<br />
Well, maybe next year. Either way, we had fun learning about Ireland and all the legends, myths surrounding St. Patrick's Day. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-66447419164586198522015-03-11T14:49:00.002-06:002015-03-11T14:49:49.257-06:00First 2015 Post on...My Unique Friendships<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have a confession to make, not all of my
friendships are equal. I am sure I will get an unhappy text for writing this,
but there are some friends who will probably never reach the best friend
status. It isn’t their fault. They may bear a different label, but I can’t live
without them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> The No-pressure friend</b>. I bet you have
one too. This is the kind of friend who doesn’t see you for at least a month or
maybe a year, but doesn’t mind playing catch up. I have several friends who
moved to this category without asking because we live so far away from each
other, but I look forward to our long banters over the phone. I still feel
loved and supported and in the end I cherish every one of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> The Play-Date Friend</b>. I only get to
hang out with this gal pal when we can get our kids together. We often meet at
a park after texting all the information of when and where to connect. We weave
our conversation in and out of distractions or interruptions such as when our
children need a snack or want help swinging on the monkey bars. We may struggle
to bond at times, but more importantly, we call each other friend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
New Friend. </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
comrade is similar to dating. It has the potential for more or it can cause a
speedy trip to the nearest hiding place while repeatedly whispering, “What was
I thinking?” While the process and time it takes to move a relationship from
stranger to acquaintance to friend can be awkward and perhaps even painful, it
is without a doubt a relationship full of hope. And she doesn’t know the real
me yet!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Wipe your Nose, Childhood Friend</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. Yes, you read that
right. I might be the only one who possesses this kind of friend. Her name is
Viviane. That’s all I am going to personally divulge about her because she has
dirt, LOTS of dirt on me. I met her when we were 13 and in the 27 years and
counting, we have witnessed each other graduate, date boys we shouldn’t have, attend
college, discover truths about ourselves(whether we will admit them or not),
get married, have children and learn to trust God even when it is most
difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, she wiped my nose
during my mom’s funeral. I know. Can you believe she did that for me? Really,
she is family and I am barely scratching the surface of what makes her so
special. I cannot and refuse to imagine my life without her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Even though these relationships are less than
perfect, even strained at times, I am grateful for them. Better to have any of the above friends then no friends or <b>worse...</b>only fair
or foul-weathered friends-<u>those are friends I can live without!</u></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-82035190695382399412014-12-31T17:45:00.001-07:002014-12-31T17:45:35.900-07:00My Last Post...in 2014Yep, the last day of 2014. I figured I should say something...but what?<br />
<br />
This has been a year of physical trials. Especially for some of my family...food issues, body issues, physical findings while examining a different physical dilemma and an impending diagnosis. Hard, hard and more hard. At some point this shall pass, we know God is faithful and trustworthy and we are depending on him for rest, help, answers and strength. We will have some sort of victory. I can feel it and I believe it. And despite the diagnosis, <u><b>we will</b></u> love and support the ones who need it. <br />
<br />
<i>Also I should say</i><u>,</u> I am in love with my children, I feel adored by my husband, I am more than grateful for getting to home school my boys and be at home with them.<br />
<i>I still have the blessings of best friends and wonderful in-laws.</i><b> </b><br />
My sister and I got to see each other after 5 years of not being face to face.<br />
<br />
I will be going into 2015 a bit changed. So good not to be stagnant in my walk with the Lord or who I am becoming...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;">Goodbye 2014. </span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(A few beautiful things from this year)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Please don't copy photos without permission</i></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRNuMBXkS9_QgOBPD3xyaA0UL5BhMNOkR8o-HGxR3vYdiQ6YDHR7FDYOGwaObFGQP4bNE_3Xn9ODISI3U0e7XOFcgoWS3KMbgOh4mcGmFqouAFa1ecBnD2sPgUdsgSRo2nO-El3PYIQE/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRNuMBXkS9_QgOBPD3xyaA0UL5BhMNOkR8o-HGxR3vYdiQ6YDHR7FDYOGwaObFGQP4bNE_3Xn9ODISI3U0e7XOFcgoWS3KMbgOh4mcGmFqouAFa1ecBnD2sPgUdsgSRo2nO-El3PYIQE/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuu6eQeUNgtu2P7XGNu3kUpDiJkuAwbBHi7supNiGqwBv6DUNqPGLAW1svsbPHFC5_9m6vTEvX629GJgmLioEUNxhlimHMI3_Mf7sT15X8VaYtijtCv8EN5FTxAWWnXtGALCrJlvbsWc/s1600/IMG_1255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuu6eQeUNgtu2P7XGNu3kUpDiJkuAwbBHi7supNiGqwBv6DUNqPGLAW1svsbPHFC5_9m6vTEvX629GJgmLioEUNxhlimHMI3_Mf7sT15X8VaYtijtCv8EN5FTxAWWnXtGALCrJlvbsWc/s1600/IMG_1255.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHBSPQmV2D6rnc5saDw1-Sr9BAWce9JBhq54Mvc_kCnghyphenhyphen1tEWpbON8ICP_hQHp99d7sDBT5YX1YxdwWEja8VjanDjfDHLjqNWAM-RJJGxCj5o651Uo6GPhYholkI0VIpywv-3Mnt6m8/s1600/IMG_1533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHBSPQmV2D6rnc5saDw1-Sr9BAWce9JBhq54Mvc_kCnghyphenhyphen1tEWpbON8ICP_hQHp99d7sDBT5YX1YxdwWEja8VjanDjfDHLjqNWAM-RJJGxCj5o651Uo6GPhYholkI0VIpywv-3Mnt6m8/s1600/IMG_1533.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made this ornament for my tree this year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kgNnd4ecvFOQNberHeVtsG0-E96BrMvbs6B7awU1Uz6f5acXxfCfoBmlSulRJFAW_PuApui9Aw21tkSjUxJ9cEqnmpt9a8g6jMoqtanNMAunwZKMNmhJAHbnDxDqVdA7DUukClKbrsU/s1600/IMG_1270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kgNnd4ecvFOQNberHeVtsG0-E96BrMvbs6B7awU1Uz6f5acXxfCfoBmlSulRJFAW_PuApui9Aw21tkSjUxJ9cEqnmpt9a8g6jMoqtanNMAunwZKMNmhJAHbnDxDqVdA7DUukClKbrsU/s1600/IMG_1270.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yWr6dS5ei2auXLQAzezlsMpjenP_1Zz9-24XyZMadqNDggZLzSlwTRa-GHN2iPFFq8s5huxXvOB1dVQyzqbDj9CbbZZoAVKtRFCWO9n2Wbm2oZZ5QvqzLUesKpFdD3xUYKjlTt1BdBE/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yWr6dS5ei2auXLQAzezlsMpjenP_1Zz9-24XyZMadqNDggZLzSlwTRa-GHN2iPFFq8s5huxXvOB1dVQyzqbDj9CbbZZoAVKtRFCWO9n2Wbm2oZZ5QvqzLUesKpFdD3xUYKjlTt1BdBE/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing with my food.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLUKRejE1M8g_C5LA5Zne-8Ui_rN5SpNFkp-GePo_7-B_iUJhowUNl8kTSUhsSQ3t91XPagAzlXLRyRlX4IpJCuuhXme6E2TBsaKvhABMXjVnsPl89phOV95e0drTQAdGSnTxQA0ThyU/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLUKRejE1M8g_C5LA5Zne-8Ui_rN5SpNFkp-GePo_7-B_iUJhowUNl8kTSUhsSQ3t91XPagAzlXLRyRlX4IpJCuuhXme6E2TBsaKvhABMXjVnsPl89phOV95e0drTQAdGSnTxQA0ThyU/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A birthday request I couldn't resist so I piped Hulk and Darth Maul...interesting combo, I know.</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-17663698257209039432014-12-11T08:28:00.000-07:002014-12-11T08:28:04.123-07:0015 years!Today, it is exactly 14 days until Christmas and I am celebrating 15 years of marriage with my sweet hubby!<br />
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Several moves, a career change, babies, deaths, surgeries and staying home have all been a portion of our journey together. What a wonderful ride it has been!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7pdxONl-4dZrs-jJCyCPAK7_J_VYCekokiSTylH3gNIk8sPQVjJdaEh5aeEOfjNb_roceg7rg4TgCI-LBMiOdYF8JhDgZmtumfcsDzaZ9D5GIvuzFIAPiG5y00WUT-4iF5zsIv-5HMI/s1600/IMG_1249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7pdxONl-4dZrs-jJCyCPAK7_J_VYCekokiSTylH3gNIk8sPQVjJdaEh5aeEOfjNb_roceg7rg4TgCI-LBMiOdYF8JhDgZmtumfcsDzaZ9D5GIvuzFIAPiG5y00WUT-4iF5zsIv-5HMI/s1600/IMG_1249.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A recent photo of us on an adventure.</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-81109547512945538712014-12-02T08:37:00.003-07:002014-12-08T08:01:20.168-07:00Thoughts on F WordsI warn you that if you do not know me, I use humor to often tackle difficult subjects like this post...<b><u> </u></b><br />
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<b><u>The background</u> </b><br />
This coming January, a few women and I have been asked to give a testimony on forgiveness at one of the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) groups where I live. Of course, I've been praying and pondering on how to approach such a sensitive topic.<br />
Well, my thinking led to how strong emotions erupt when speaking about forgiving and my mind wondered to other "f" words who conjure similar reactions... <br />
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<u><b>The point hopefully</b></u><br />
See if this list of F-words make you wince or evoke a bad memory (If you feel nothing, you might be a psychopath. Just saying).<br />
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Flab<br />
<b>Fear</b><br />
Feminine (ugh, right)<br />
<b>Flaw</b><br />
Frumpy<br />
Failure<br />
Fat<b> </b><br />
Forgive<br />
Fashion (I grew up wearing 80's clothes)<br />
Fungus <br />
<b>Family</b><br />
<b>Father</b><br />
Filthy<br />
<b>Fatigue</b><br />
<b>Fever</b><br />
Fumble (including the football term)<br />
Fight<br />
Feeble<br />
Foreign or Foreigner<br />
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<u>So how did you do? </u></div>
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Oh, there's more annoying or negative "f" words. Perhaps you even thought of one I missed, but you get my point. Some of those words are just downright painful for me. See the words in bold.</div>
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So this got me wondering if these words alone bother me, does it mean I need work on forgiveness?</div>
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No, actually that is a terrible myth. Forgiveness rarely leads to instant restoration of a relationship. Sometimes a relationship has to be severed for safety, but sometimes it is only temporarily. Forgiveness never means that the emotions disappear or even the memories. </div>
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I am no expert so how can I write this to you as truth? I grew up in a hard family with a lot of different kinds of abuse, and that is only the beginning of my journey of extending mercy, forgiveness and grace. I could write a year of blog posts on who or what I have forgiven, but that isn't what I need to share today.</div>
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God wants me to share this...forgiveness never ends. It runs deep and overflows daily. It is a choice. And without meaning to sound cliche...it truly frees us of hurt. Frees
us from bitterness and resentment. It liberates us to focus on healing, on moving onto what God wants to do in and for us. Yes, sometimes forgiving is super easy, other times near impossible, but only happens when we surrender the hurt, the unfairness, the person or circumstance to God, our Father...the ONLY one who truly understands and experienced the greatest act of pardoning. </div>
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He knows what happened, he has seen what was done, he knows if we were at fault (which leads to natural consequences) and he allowed it to happen whether we were a victim or a perpetrator. </div>
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<b>Yet, the Lord promises deliverance and restoring if we trust him. </b> </div>
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<u>It is worth it, I promise!</u></div>
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Happily linking up today with wonderful sisters in Christ here: </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-13024542308816839392014-11-24T04:00:00.000-07:002014-11-25T07:18:08.785-07:00When 1 Thessalonians 5:18 resonates...We all know it's that time of year where Turkeys have no idea their fate and families cook gobs of food and regret the leftovers. However, I am NOT going to write another T-day blog post or tell you the thousandth thing I am thankful for...besides that would be way too obvious and easy. <br />
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I have a rebellious streak anyways.</div>
Right now, I am suspended between feeling grateful and feeling grumpy to the point that writing about this is the safest way to deal with this dangling dilemma. And I need to face it.<br />
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<u>Here's the story:</u><br />
Over the past 3 years, I have grown in my gratitude, become more mindful of when I am taking something or someone for granted and making sure I check my heart for sincerity here. I don't want to live with ingratitude for what God did and has done for me and not be thankful for the generosity of Him and other people. I want to be a woman who understands/acknowledges the blessings, grace and goodness she has received and to cherish those.<br />
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<b>This would be easier if I weren't human and could be content in all situations... </b></div>
So guess what happens to sneak itself into my life recently?<br />
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<b>1Thessalonians 5:18.</b> </div>
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"<i>Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God's will for you.</i>"</div>
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I'll admit that the first time I read this (a few plus years back) that I stumbled,<br />
but I am not desiring to take this verse out of context. I don't believe that God is asking us to be thankful for bad things...like being in the middle of a stomach bug or miscarriage or some horrific news and to be honest, I don't think I have 100% sincerely given thanks in these past circumstances: A suicide, my mom's sudden death, and some abuse. </div>
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I see this verse as personal to each individual. Gratefulness just can't be bought or forced. We have to get there through God working in our hearts in the situations that are his "will for" us.<br />
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<b>Am I alone though in wanting a break from the molding, the shaping...the metamorphosis of thy heart? </b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">See, two in my family are waiting for a diagnosis. </span>Probably not life threatening as long as they have the right type, but nonetheless a syndrome that has affected and will affect their lives.</div>
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One half of my heart is grateful because a diagnosis is an answer! It reveals, clarifies, and explains so much. Unfortunately, depending on the diagnosis, it could be downright scary and well, waiting is part of the game and I ain't so grateful for that...waiting is stressful. Yet, in the waiting, we continue to grow in the patience arena. However, this syndrome is a change in our family with limitations, proneness to not so fun stuff and well it will be our fifth major transition since we moved to Grand Junction 3 years ago! Ugh, transitions are just plain tough.</div>
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Do you see my conundrum? My heart swings back and forth from thank you and no thank you.<br />
Well, I never said I wasn't a work in progress!</div>
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When all of this comes to light, I do believe we will see healing, I have faith we will make it through.</div>
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In the meantime, would you pray for our family? </div>
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Happily linking up here: <center>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-81684177473342148452014-11-04T11:00:00.004-07:002014-11-04T11:02:10.853-07:00Sometimes remembering is the best gift to give...<span style="color: #660000;">He came home with a fall-colored plant of Gerbera Daisies and mint-chocolate ice cream. His gifts a gesture that He remembered. One simple act practically overshadowing the years (eight thus far) of grief that still plague my heart every time October 29th comes around. I will always miss my mom.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">I know I cannot really explain thoroughly how <u>just remembering</u> is the best gift to give. Sure, listening is supportive and kind words are too, but just the acknowledgement itself speaks life into my soul; communicating love and selfless care.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #660000;">She lives in Oregon and her schedule is full, yet she still managed to text me and tell me she was thinking of me. She was praying for my heart today. Again...remembering.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #660000;">If you haven't experienced great loss and grief, then what I am writing will be hard to understand. However, I can tell you that a day will come (unfortunately) when a loss of some kind will knock your heart out of your chest. I only hope you have someone to love you amidst your pain. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #660000;">I pray someone will remember for you too.</span></span></b></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-10995481127701270612014-10-28T09:52:00.000-06:002014-10-28T10:08:02.119-06:00Stop the platitudes! Her response to my concerns for my family solicited a perturbed reaction inside. She is supposedly my friend. She could have not said anything or "I'm sorry," but instead she slapped my feelings with a neat package of platitudes..."God is faithful, God is with you, try not to worry."<br />
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<b>When did what we struggle with equate with struggling with God or our faith?</b></div>
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<u>My struggles right now are not with God or what he can do or whether he is faithful.</u> </div>
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I am simply demonstrating a <i>normal human response</i> of empathy. </div>
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Yes, I am a bit worried. Yes, I don't want those I care about to hear the dreaded, "There's nothing we can do for you." That will be hard on them and hard for me because I care about how this is going to affect them. </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>We need to stop the platitudes!!</b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u>We
need to be careful not to convey the message that struggling is not
okay or a sign that someone needs to be spiritually rescued.</u></span></div>
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In my experience, Christians are the worst at throwing religious
statements in the name of God, but these are often inappropriate responses to
someones pain, loss, or trial. These platitudes minimize others' concerns or hurt, make assumptions about the state of one's thoughts and feelings and communicate (whether intentional or not) insensitivity. Yes, the statement,<i> God is faithful</i> is very true, but may have nothing to do with what a person is working through.</div>
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If we feel uncomfortable supporting someone's battle, then we need to be honest and tell them. We may even need to stay away from them. We need to be careful not to assume anything or say things that will only make a difficult matter worse!</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Whatever we choose, we need to practice saying little with sensitivity. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">P.S. Yes, I have forgiven my friend. Yes, I am extending grace. Right now, I am deciding with God's wisdom whether I should tell her how what she did hurt me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Linking up today with a true sisterhood: <a href="http://www.solideogloriasisterhood.com/">http://www.solideogloriasisterhood.com/</a> </span> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-71760656777835957862014-07-01T17:12:00.001-06:002014-07-02T07:25:25.509-06:00How to Fight the Pillar of Salt Phenomenon<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's that moment when it comes into my mind's eye...a fleeting memory of regret or sadness at what was lost. I used to reside there for hours without realizing how distracting and crippling this choice was or how it made excuses for me so I could play the victim.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I used to really LIVE in the past and it stole so much from the present. So much.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Around the time I attended college, I became aware of my choice and began to seek God's help...help to move on, desiring for Him to empower me, to heal me from the past, but also to help me forgive myself as well as others.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">S-L-O-W-L-Y, I began to release all of the past I had been gripping so hard that my fingers bled, but I was determined to gain victory. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, I recently read in the Bible about Lot's wife and how her loyalty seemed divided between the town, Sodom (that God was about to destroy) and the mercy God was giving her family and her by sparing them from this destruction. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>See, she looked back. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>And the cost was her life.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b><i>She became a pillar of salt.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been there. I have looked backed...guilty of what if 's and only if I's. Like Lot's wife, disobedient, content in the familiar and stuck like a salt statue. I call this the Pillar of Salt phenomenon. <i>When my comfort zone is more important than obeying. </i>When I ride the past like a merry-go-round. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>We can fight this.</b> It isn't easy, ya'll! I still have to shoo at the pillar pest and play tug-of-war with my mind and heart. Christ's death and resurrection was real, is real and we need to start living life based on who we follow (Jesus) and what we believe. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, how? No, I am not saying that our past is bad, or not important or that God never uses it for His glory. We need to say no to letting our past choke us. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It ain't simple. </b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some of you really understand that truth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Christ's showed us that our past mistakes, broken relationships, etc. ended with His death. Let's walk in freedom one day at a time together! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>You are not alone. PLEASE write in the comments if you would like for me to pray for you and or want to talk more on this. Or go to "contact me" and shoot me an email. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">*The inspiration for this post came from the book,Women of the Bible, a one-year devotional study of women in scripture by Ann Spangler and Jean E.Syswerda.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.solideogloriasisterhood.com/">Linking up today at Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood</a> </span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-3310570650455872662014-06-28T10:49:00.002-06:002014-06-28T10:49:26.997-06:00I had a Dry RunI had a dry run of writing so I have not posted since April. So sorry fellow followers. Can you forgive me (said with cute, blink, blink eyeballs)?<br />
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I was also busy finishing up home schooling two sweet boys and preparing for summer.<br />
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I have been debating back and forth about whether I should continue my blog. I have stories to tell, but I keep waiting for an answer from God...should I share them here or put them in a book to entertain and encourage others?<br />
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One of my dreams (coupled with a collection of experiences worth telling) is to either speak about or write these stories. Only to whom? To the masses or to a smaller audience? Besides, who am I? It isn't like my stories are better than most, but they itch in my brain and tug at my heart to not keep them all to myself.<br />
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DEAR READER...PLEASE give me your opinion, thoughts, and if God is using you to help me, please share with me. I would greatly appreciate it!!!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-65880074686861157642014-04-22T10:37:00.003-06:002014-04-22T10:37:16.684-06:00When your the key that doesn't fit<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Story by Dionne Adkison)</i></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">The</span> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">story and art idea owned by me. Please don't copy, share or distribute without permission.</span></span></div>
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Shaking hands with the locks they were created for, all of the keys matched their counterpart except for one. A slender, silver key-without fancy and void of its pair. There it lay, all alone and without purpose.<br />
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What could one do with a key that didn't have a lock to open? Toss it, I suppose. Well, now that would be unkind wouldn't it? After all, whoever heard of making a key just to make one?<br />
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Yet, why keep something so out of place and useless?</div>
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The caring owner of all the keys, out of compassion I guess, kept the silver key. Inside an abandon drawer, it sat. And sat. And SAT. Unused, ignored, and forgotten. </div>
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Alas, a young woman found her grandfather's junk drawer. She discovered the antique key and gently moved it back and forth in her dainty hands. With no lock to open, the key became a piece in the art work the young woman created. She smiled that her art was complete.</div>
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In a tiny, modern gallery, people pointed and pondered the silver key among the golden-laced earring, a red high heel, a black and white die, half a heart, and a salt shaker. Until a hunched over older woman purchased the work and put it in her tea room. Each day she smiled at the unpaired pieces that the artist so perfectly matched.</div>
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Often, I struggle to NOT feel like this key...out of place and abandoned. The reality is, I was abandoned often in my childhood. As an adult, on many occasions, I feel awkward among my peers. <br />
Sure, it is easier to blame myself. To speak lies into my head, "I am the weird one. I need to be different." At times, I have made it the other person or group's fault. They are insecure. They have issues. Only God really knows the truth of the matter. I just wish he would let me in on it.<br />
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Perhaps, that's the point-I am not supposed to be in on it. Seems cruel. At least to me. Yet, I know my being in the dark is a way God keeps me dependent on him. I need to be dependent on him in this life. After all, he is my defender, my healer, and the one who saves me from my own false perceptions. Thank goodness!<br />
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<b>If I have learned anything in my 20 year relationship with the Lord...</b></div>
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Sometimes the very purpose </div>
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of our hurt or alienated feelings are simply to bless others. </div>
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This is what I need to remember: it isn't all about me!</div>
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Linking up today with Jen at SOli Deo Gloria. Join us <a href="http://findingheaventoday.com/">here</a></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-91920034311072363652014-03-27T03:30:00.000-06:002014-03-27T03:30:04.218-06:00The Best Breakfast ever...a recipe too and vegan friendly.Okay, you might disagree. <br />
Let me tell ya though that in the right quantities, it is healthy, full of nutrition, satisfying and packs a powerful burst of energy...great for post-workout meal. I promise I AM NOT selling any product.<br />
No gimmicks. No diet platform.<br />
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Ever since we figured out the foods causing my hubby to feel bad and get headaches, it has changed the way we view food. We are trying to budget more whole, homemade foods...does anyone have some energy to spare so I can find the strength (okay, time too and patience to knead bread dough) to make more from scratch items?<br />
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So what is in my best breakfast ever? See below... <br />
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So here are some pictures of my yummy breakfast:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLOhyphenhyphenR8aWPhsvEh9k1fk32MWswMAvyXfrYhmjFge4T5lO1Vt6iFQk1ruO_FltlwcX-0AXam87edvcq0nD_bRN66QraYq1ggGjesKeBxylpc0kK2MaN2dVoa2DKXJIGty2FTQg4Rm742A/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLOhyphenhyphenR8aWPhsvEh9k1fk32MWswMAvyXfrYhmjFge4T5lO1Vt6iFQk1ruO_FltlwcX-0AXam87edvcq0nD_bRN66QraYq1ggGjesKeBxylpc0kK2MaN2dVoa2DKXJIGty2FTQg4Rm742A/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
Nuts, fruit, protein powder and either flax or chia seeds (I used chia seeds here) makes a very healthy breakfast or post-workout meal. So tasty. You can also use a small amount of milk/soy/almond milk or you can add plain or lowfat/low sugar yogurt of your choice as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjqfaXsur9kz0BvLuFLiSyTu01RyweYCgjzfbvB4GTQu-NbgTp8c-09SgRDUFLVLzzYnX2KKQf78Zf_qrsNl-X4o07rucdVu8nGc0MEJAbsk1QieRjgrdrmBdOdtdywNpxcKm7abKtYo/s1600/IMG_0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjqfaXsur9kz0BvLuFLiSyTu01RyweYCgjzfbvB4GTQu-NbgTp8c-09SgRDUFLVLzzYnX2KKQf78Zf_qrsNl-X4o07rucdVu8nGc0MEJAbsk1QieRjgrdrmBdOdtdywNpxcKm7abKtYo/s1600/IMG_0506.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-alNCY8X10W0OBnvsuix9LfleZQpjgTFHSHHLVWOaS2O6o1fCUfDOIQSnImSTDzJGGTY2sm-Dj8e1rUEvqoBVI3CfX6FlkpZpDeB4OFSuBWROIpfyiCLaUDTNuX87dz4a4mKPE4GmOqM/s1600/IMG_0509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-alNCY8X10W0OBnvsuix9LfleZQpjgTFHSHHLVWOaS2O6o1fCUfDOIQSnImSTDzJGGTY2sm-Dj8e1rUEvqoBVI3CfX6FlkpZpDeB4OFSuBWROIpfyiCLaUDTNuX87dz4a4mKPE4GmOqM/s1600/IMG_0509.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite nuts to use are slivered almonds. I put some cashews in this bowl.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<u>*Power packed Breakfast</u> By Dionne Adkison<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 1/2 cups of varied fruit</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1/2 cup of nuts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">one scoop or tablespoon of protein powder (vegans can use soy)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1 Tbsp of chia or flax seed (you can use powder instead)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">OPTIONAL: Add in a 1/4 cup of your favorite yogurt or milk (nondairy soy, coconut or almond for a vegan friendly version </span><br />
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1) Mix any combination of your favorite fruit. I always include a half a banana with assorted berries, but I have in a pinch put together apples or pears with bananas too when berries were not in season or expensive. Oooh, try Kiwi with bananas and strawberries. Yuh-um.<br />
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2)Add in any form of nuts you like. My favorites are almonds and cashews...together or separate. However, peanuts with bananas and blueberries is awwwwesome. Try Walnuts too.<br />
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3)Next add protein powder...soy or whey...depends if you are vegetarian or vegan.<br />
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4. Toss in some chia or flax seeds and you have a power-packed, densely nutritious meal. <br />
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*You get fiber, vitamins, minerals, protein, omega 3's, good carbs, natural fruit sugar that won't spike your blood sugar and just enough calories to stave off morning stomach gurgles. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, go enjoy this hearty meal...your body will thank you!!!</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-31959504991755056022014-03-05T15:07:00.002-07:002014-03-06T07:48:38.927-07:00What is more precious than gold?<span style="color: #660000;">He tells me to close my eyes. I had just returned from having a woman
squeeze my tatas with</span><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: #660000;"> a vice grip </span>as if she was expecting juice from them. You would think that with today's technology, someone could
suggest a kinder way of checking for cancer in my bumps. Next time, I
think I will negotiate an ultrasound and cat-scan. Back to hubby-he
hands me a special treat to celebrate my first mammogram. I gasp, then
laugh. On a purple plate, two scoops of vanilla ice cream are sandwiched
between two graham crackers with slices of strawberries and red hots
facing out like headlights. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">Chew on that mental picture... </span></div>
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My youngest son gives me at least thirty pecks on my cheek with a doubly hard hug.
Then, he proudly exclaims, "That was the hardest hug-EVER!"<br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">My first born son and I giggle as
he gets me with a pillow because he has figured out that this is what
you do when you love someone...you can playfully tease. And I adore the
banter between us. </span><br />
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When I was in college, I used my engagement ring as a model for creating a sculpture. My art piece is a thin, three dimensional metal circle with metal prongs holding a white rock so elegantly on a red, crushed-velvet pillow. The ring art symbolized getting married, the commitment and the promise to come. Yet, it wasn't the diamond or the shiny gold that was valuable. It was what it meant for my future. Now, the ring is a permanent fixture in my life, my garden-like the beauty of vowing to love my husband forever...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-XdWFQ3IU5gPSeNU6ktZJCi5cvYiswh8b5vmy234o2_p8ygzIMhVsdLfSpjDO698cnaNO0MeaYEEb8oSVnm9HtrLr0SmYrQ9Yz942sCs5AHWCDViErLaM4y9zvLHJ42vMO88OyKD-XU/s1600/P1040525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-XdWFQ3IU5gPSeNU6ktZJCi5cvYiswh8b5vmy234o2_p8ygzIMhVsdLfSpjDO698cnaNO0MeaYEEb8oSVnm9HtrLr0SmYrQ9Yz942sCs5AHWCDViErLaM4y9zvLHJ42vMO88OyKD-XU/s1600/P1040525.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the escapee-a metal mouse (top right).</td></tr>
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And what is more precious than gold..? These moments of bliss with my family.<br />
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<i>Prompt#3-a blog inspired by the word gold. </i><br />
Linking up today at Mama's Losin It...for a bit of inspirational writing <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/">Go here.</a><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-61168386380816367142014-02-24T09:14:00.000-07:002014-02-25T08:16:23.028-07:00The Thickets: A tale of setting boundaries.Once upon a time when miles of forest still existed, lived the Thickets. A small family in a small house deep in the heart of the trees. Each day, the Thickets gave thanks for what they had and rarely wanted more. Even a crumb was thought of and given so kindly to the little injured bird who called the Oak tree to the right of the cottage home.<br />
The Thickets made do with what they had, foraging, hunting, preserving and not wasting anything. They had no mailbox, cell phone, T.V., or even a computer. If they desired to converse with neighbors, they had to walk the crooked path that followed the creek and meet in person.<br />
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One day, Mrs. Thicket was feeling lonely. All the other thickets had gone exploring to find something new and Mrs. Thicket really needed to share her heart. She decided to follow the crooked path parallel to the creek to see if she would run into Mrs. Ravine or Ms. Birch, but she didn't. <i>Where was everyone</i>? <i>I usually run into someone eventually, </i>she thought. She strode a few miles farther to the vast meadow just beyond the forest and began to descend down the hill.<br />
She gasped when she saw the strangest trees and the chaos before her. Each tree seemed blue-gray with the sky painted on them. There were people everywhere rushing to and fro, but they were not speaking to one another nor were they even looking at each other. Instead, she noticed strange, rectangular objects of various sizes in their hands. Everyone was intently interested in these odd items. So much so that they would look up for a mere second to not bump into one another, but they would quickly return to the creature attached to their hands.<br />
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Mrs. Thicket saw Ms. Birch and gently tapped her shoulder only to be halted with Ms. Birch's pointy finger. Mrs. Thicket waited and waited and waited. She sighed. She was losing patience. She did not understand what was so much more important than a friend that she should have to wait to even be acknowledged. Finally, Ms. Birch looked up and said, "Oh, hi Ann. I am so sorry, but I must really get back home. Maybe I can text you tomorrow?"<br />
"Text", Ann asked? Before Ann could get a straight answer, Ms. Birch was already heading back to the forest. Feeling confused and noticing the beautiful, red sky approaching, Mrs. Thicket knew she needed to get home since she didn't bring a candle to light her way. <br />
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When she arrived home, Ann's eyes widened in disbelief! There in her quiet home, was Mr. Thicket and her two children dragging and punching their fingers across those rectangular thing-a-ma-bobs!!<br />
No one looked up to greet her. It was if she was invisible. She thought to herself, <i>I am going to get to the bottom of this. I will not be ignored. </i><br />
She raised her voice with frustration, "What is going on?" The other Thickets jumped and looked up quickly at mama.<br />
Mr. Thicket said, "Oh, hi dear. Look what we found today in the woods. Mr. Ravine called them cell phones and they have this interesting ability called, internet. We can communicate with people without ever having to walk and talk to them in person. Isn't that great?"<br />
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Ann didn't want to lose her temper so with firm compassion she said, "No, it is not great. I feel sad that when trying to communicate with my friend, Ms. Birch or my family, I was barely acknowledged. Today, just beyond the meadow I saw the most terrible and tragic truth. I witnessed people dismissing each other. Children playing on these contraptions instead of dressing up their dolls, or making forts or building sleeping bags from leaves for caterpillars. I saw people not even stopping to see the most gorgeous sunset!"<br />
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<i>The Thickets didn't defy the modern times by giving up their devices, but Mr. Thicket per Mrs. Thicket kind request, set specific boundaries that severely limited the days and amount of time on these modern phones. THEY NEVER missed another sunset after that!</i><br />
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<i>Happily linking up with a great sisterhood: <a href="http://findingheaventoday.com/">Soli Deo Gloria, come join us here</a> </i><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2268865280167455181.post-68439847014881470202014-02-14T08:54:00.000-07:002014-02-14T16:37:29.126-07:00This Post says I love you in a whole new way!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #990000;">Just when you think you are truly alone or no one notices you,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">when you believe no one understands your struggle or hurts, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">perhaps, you think no one is listening...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>And then:</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">He paints this picture for you. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>You hear</b>, "<i>Bring me your heart. Commit your way to me and trust me and I will make your righteousness reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i>I see you and I know your struggles." <b>Psalm 37:5-6</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">There IS a <i>God who sees us</i>- <b><u>El Roi </u></b>(El Raw-ee)</span> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">the name Hagar the slave gave to him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">Happy Valentine's Day. May we see it differently today!</span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2