tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42558695773958308902024-03-05T19:08:24.383-08:00Some Lovely DaysRecording life's little joys and remembering the precious moments we have been given.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-74676765233887693332015-01-01T21:09:00.000-08:002015-01-03T21:10:08.406-08:00Word of the Year: AdventureDo you set New Year's Resolutions each year?<br />
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I usually do. I wake up on January 1st and think of all the things I wish were different about my life. Then I proceed to make a list of what I am going to do in the next year to change those.<br />
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Not a bad approach, right?<br />
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There is just one problem with it. It NEVER works!<br />
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So this year I am doing something different. I am choosing one word, just one to focus on for the entire year. For 2015 I choose...<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Adventure</span></i><br />
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Now that may seem like a strange word for me to pick but let me explain. When I think of the word adventure, usually the first thing that comes to mind is something <b>fun</b> and <b>exciting</b>, setting off into the <b>unknown</b>. But when I consider it deeper I realize that it encompasses so much more. Things like:<br />
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<b>Hope</b><br />
<b>Anticipation</b><br />
<b>Expectation</b><br />
<b>A broader world view</b><br />
<b>Relationships</b><br />
<b>Action</b><br />
<b>Dreams</b><br />
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For the first time in a long time I am excited and looking forward to all that is ahead in the coming year.<br />
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As with any adventure I know there will be ups and downs, ebbs and flows. Take the adventure of child raising for example. For some reason kids just don't stay the same. Funny, isn't it?! You think you get something about them figured out and then they up and get emotional or start dealing with hormones or learn some new attitude trick. I am <i>grateful</i> that God has entrusted me with the raising of two young ladies, and I pray that I can demonstrate for them how to first of all love Jesus with their whole hearts, to be real, and to extend the love and grace they have received to others around them.<br />
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When I mentioned the word <i>adventure</i> including <i>dreams</i> I am telling on myself here. A year ago I was struggling quite a bit with discouragement bordering on depression. During those dark months I could pretend that everything was okay when it really wasn't, and sometimes I could even fool myself into thinking that I didn't have a problem. I prayed. I read my Bible. I journalled. I took long walks on the beach when I was alone. <b>God never left my side.</b> Sometimes when you have a traumatic event take place in your life, the fall-out and emotional reconciliation take a l-o-n-g time to come to the surface. This is just me and a part of my journey. Everyone processes things differently.<br />
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During that time I realized I no longer had big dreams. You know, growing up I had all sorts of plans and hopes for the future like any girl. I got married and my dreams got bigger! Traveled to Europe and I made it to the doorstep of that dream castle I was building in my head. God blessed me with a baby girl and I peeked inside the big door; life was exciting and full of promise! I got to take a few steps into my castle: purchased a new home, traveled, found out I was pregnant with my second miracle baby. And then the walls came tumbling down. My marriage ended and I spent the next few years having a baby, raising two girls, and just keeping life on the tracks. No time for dreams...a lot of the old ones were tied to memories I wanted to forget.<br />
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It was just me and God.<br />
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Looking back I can see a part of His beautiful handiwork in what transpired next, but I would be lax in my explanation if I did not say that at times I questioned and even denied that the path before me was the one to travel. As I've mentioned <a href="http://somelovelydays.blogspot.com/2014/04/mia.html">here</a>, I started working from home in March of this year, and what a ride it has been! The biggest take away? Personal growth. While addressing some of my health issues has helped with my hormonal balance and I no longer have those dark days, learning and really <i>trusting</i> that I am in God's will has taken me on a journey that has truly changed my life.<br />
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And so begins the process of building new dreams. How different they look than the ones I had many years ago! But that is what makes them so exciting and a part of the adventure I am on this year.<br />
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God can do <i>anything</i> with my life. I am holding on and about to see what that is going to be!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-60539882088051182022014-12-18T21:13:00.001-08:002014-12-18T21:13:20.676-08:00Songbird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;">I just have to share because I am so thankful and happy for Kimberly! This past summer we had many conversations about whether or not she should continue taking violin lessons this year with her wonderful violin teacher, Mrs. Holland. Kim enjoyed the performances and the lessons, but as with anything one is attempting to learn, the practices in between were challenging and, I must admit, a source of trying times for the two of us. So when we learned about the Central Coast Children's Choir, a local group of young people in our area, Kim jumped at the opportunity to join them and take a break from violin. </span></div>
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She has not looked back! Watching her grow in her musical talent and seeing the excitement in her daily when we talk about choir has been a joy to me as her mother. When conversations start with, "Mom, I am so sad there are three whole weeks until we get to sing together again!"... that tells me we are in the right place. Music feeds her soul, and the confidence she is exhibiting is thrilling to watch. My little songbird.</div>
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*Whisper* And she practices all the time without needing reminders!! </div>
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Big win.</div>
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The Winter concert was just last weekend, and I must say that I was impressed. Almost 80 young people sang, a combination of 5 different choir levels, for 2 hours. Wow. I'm thankful for the blessing of having my daughter be a part of such dedicated and talented young people. </div>
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Have a listen!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-11479097484573188682014-07-02T18:24:00.000-07:002014-07-03T07:34:48.185-07:00Life in ReverseHard to believe that almost three weeks of our summer vacation have sped by already! On Sunday night of this week I declared a "Stay At Home No Matter What Monday" (barring unforeseen circumstances, of course), and we did it!<br />
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It was lovely to hop in the car on Tuesday morning and realize the tires were in the same spot we left them on Sunday night.<br />
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It was not, however, lovely to realize that Lindsay's bike was in a different spot and therefore her bike seat now resembles a taco minus the lettuce and cheese.<br />
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You know, I was never going to be "that mom" who runs over her kids bikes and toys in the driveway. I mean, it can't be that difficult to check the rear view mirror or even peek behind the car before pulling out, right?<br />
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True confession time.<br />
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I have now graduated to that esteemed category. One bike seat and one scooter wheel in one week. Must be a record.<br />
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Remember library catalogs? (Yes, I am showing my age by that question!) I find it interesting to feel categorized. It is as if you could now pull out the drawer titled, "ME-MU" and find my name nestled under the heading of<br />
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"Moms Who Run Over Bikes In Driveway"</div>
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Jill Whaley 630.14 </div>
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Well, I guess we all have to be remembered for <i>something</i>!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hope you all are enjoying the little moments this summer!</i></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-33966860064613401452014-04-24T21:58:00.000-07:002014-04-24T23:43:17.027-07:00M.I.A.Yes, it appears I have been missing in action around here! Not on purpose, I assure you.<br />
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You know, sometimes I talk about the unexpected twists and turns that come our way in life. It just so happens that we had a full hairpin turn last month! Several of you have asked off and on what I do for work or if I am looking for a job. God has graciously provided for me to be able to stay home and raise my girls over the past six years. For that I am truly grateful and undeserving.<br />
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Last September I started volunteering at a local non-profit thrift store and had the opportunity to work with some wonderful Christian women. It was just what I needed at that time, but a couple of months ago I felt that God was leading me in a new direction, one that would lead to employment. As I began searching the help wanted ads for a job nothing waved a flag to say "pick me!". Either the times were wrong and I wouldn't be able to get my kids from school, or the hours were too long, or the commute was too far. I even went for one job interview but left afterward knowing the job wasn't what God had planned for me. It's a wonderful feeling to know peace even when the pieces aren't fitting together just how I think they should fit! I decided to wait. Not for something to fall in my lap, but to be still for a bit and see what the Lord had in store.<br />
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Come the end of March, I was reading a post on a blog I have been following for a couple of years and the author started talking about a product and company called Plexus. After researching everything I could find about the company and products, and spending some time praying about the opportunity, I felt that this was the place God wanted me to be right now.<br />
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<b>Can you say Unexpected and Not What I Would Have Ever Dreamed I'd Be Doing?!</b><br />
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What a blessing Plexus has been in our lives so far! Not only have I had the opportunity to meet new people, reconnect with old friends, and create stronger relationships with acquaintances, I am experiencing amazing positive changes in my health as well. The best part about it is that I have the privilege of <i>helping</i> people find answers and relief from health issues. On top of all that, Plexus is providing for our family financially as well.<br />
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Have I always trusted God 100% to provide what we needed when we needed it? Not always. I am humbled by His graciousness in understanding my frame when I have been anxious or wanting to rush ahead and see the future plans He has in store, and I am grateful for the times when I <i>have </i>been able to return the worries about employment to His hands and consciously make a choice to leave them there. He has certainly never failed me! As I sit here I can feel a bit teary about how generously He has provided for me and my girls. And I love the way that provision is usually a bit different that I would have reasoned it out to be. Just one more way He shows His love!<br />
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So that's what has been taking up my time and brain space lately. If you want to read more about my new adventure, you can click <a href="http://somelovelydays.blogspot.com/p/plexus.html">here</a> or on the tab above that says My Plexus Story. Happy reading!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-81887888604703132172014-02-06T21:27:00.000-08:002014-07-02T22:42:19.289-07:00Skinny Dip<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">So I have been reading the Sarah Plain and Tall series to my girls this week, and one of the aunties in the story goes skinny dipping in the ocean. That, of course, required a detailed explanation including what, why, and how. And it must have made an impression because the topic came up again tonight at bedtime from Lindsay, to which I replied:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Would you ever go skinny dipping?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"No. Never. There would be <i>boys!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, you would go somewhere where there were no people, somewhere private", I prompted. "It's against the law to do that in public places anyway. You could get arrested."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"But people would see you!" she still insisted. "And a policeman would come."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Okay, how about with your husband someday..."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, that would be alright. I mean, he could see you. And if a policeman came you could just tell him that it's your husband so it's okay."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-17097054595328925962014-01-09T06:30:00.000-08:002014-01-09T06:30:01.321-08:00SimplifyRemember way back <a href="http://somelovelydays.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-countdown.html">here</a> when I was dreading the beginning of school for Lindsay and wondering what life was going to be like? Well, guess what. I survived it. Thinking back to that time reminded me of this mental list I had going on to do in "all my spare time once school starts". It read something like a housekeeper's nightmare, including entries like <i>reorganize entire house </i>and <i>prepare dinner in the mornings to save afternoon time for playing with children.</i><br />
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Ummm... totally unrealistic.<br />
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Most of that list never materialized for obvious reasons. I can think of one time when dinner was made and in the fridge prior to 2 pm. And the house never did reorganize itself, fancy that! Somewhere over the course of winter break I realized that our "stuff" in our home truly owns a piece of us.<br />
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It was the pantry that broke the proverbial camel's back. While I grocery shop on an almost-weekly basis and fill up the empty spaces in the cupboards and fridge, there are some things that hang out in the deep recesses of the pantry and the dark corners of the freezer that beg to be eaten or thrown out. So, with recipe book in hand, I tried an experiment titled How Many Days Can We Eat Out Of The Pantry Without Grocery Shopping. Here's a little sneak peak into our findings:<br />
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<b><i>Lessons Learned From the Bottom of the Freezer</i></b><br />
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<i>"We've been having some really yummy meals lately, Mom," Kimberly commented at dinnertime one evening last week. </i><br />
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<i>I took that as an extreme complement. You see, I hadn't been regular grocery shopping for two weeks, and "staples" shopping for much longer than that. My list was front and back on several scraps of paper stuck on the magnet board, scribbled in a combination of pencil, marker, and glitter gel pen notations. </i><i>Challenging myself to come up with healthy, tasty meals from the bottom of the freezer encouraged me to bump up out the rut of routine recipes we eat regularly, put on my creative chef hat, and work some culinary magic in the kitchen. That magic looked like cajun chicken tacos, spinach ravioli with garlic tomato sauce, and scrambled egg and potato wraps.</i><br />
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An unrealized side benefit to this experiment was the sense of freedom from the overabundance of surplus food we never took time to prepare and eat. And a whole lot of extra room in the pantry, refrigerator, and freezer.<br />
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We could have gone longer (17 days was our final number), and by that time we were really missing eggs.<br />
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And cheese and butter.<br />
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And shaving cream.<br />
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Oh, wait.<br />
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That's not a food. But I didn't want to step foot in a store for fear I would cave in and pick up some splurge item like mayonnaise and all would have been for not.<br />
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Now if we had been out of toilet paper...<br />
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So all of this experimenting made me realize how many, many extras we have in our lives. Does one person really need a total of 42 shirts, sweaters, and sweatshirts? (Yes, I counted and I'm not saying who). And how can two children truly enjoy and play with 29 stuffed animals?<br />
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So, one Saturday when I was by myself I attacked my room and the playroom with reckless abandon. If you had happened by on that particular day, or the next, or the next, or today, you might have thought I was moving. You would have been wrong. But I did have an impressive number of boxes to sell, bags to donate, and a jam packed trash can to set out at the road on Friday morning.<br />
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Even after a few days of clearing out I find I still have too many "things". It's been quite a journey so far discovering just how emotionally attached I can be to stuff and how freeing it is to release some of it. I am finding room in my life for more time with my family rather than more time for washing, drying, and hanging 42 shirts. And I'm not through yet...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-51257218269209590752014-01-08T11:30:00.000-08:002014-01-08T19:05:47.074-08:00Overheard In The School YardWith hands in our pockets to keep out the chill, I waited with Lindsay in line to ride the trikes around the playground this morning before the bell rang. Two vigorous young boys raced the bikes around the painted line on the blacktop and skidded to a halt in front of the next waiting child, then ran to the back of the line for another turn. As the line moved forward, Lindsay hopped on a bike and took off while those two young boys inched forward.<br />
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As I smiled and waved when Lindsay turned the corner, the first boy with blond spiky hair and a scrunched up nose turned to his friend and said, "The fast bike is going to be coming in first. Here, I'll switch places with you. You go first."<br />
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The second brown-headed boy looked incredulous. "But that means you'll have to use the slow trike! Why would you do that?"<br />
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Blondie shrugged his shoulder, gave a little grin, and said, "I don't mind the slow bike. Besides, I know you like the fast one better so you use it! It doesn't matter to me if I go faster or slower."<br />
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In the me, me, me world at elementary school, this conversation was balm to my soul. The little blond boy had a grasp of the importance of the relationship over the desire to get the better bike. That's the kind of example I desire for my children, a win over selfishness (with which they struggle daily) while maintaining a healthy dose of self-confidence.<br />
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On closer inspection I realize that I struggle with selfishness daily too. I can be selfish with my time and my attention, while freely sharing correction and criticism. It's easier to tell and boss than to lead by example, and when I am distracted by thoughts and ideas, the easy road is the one I take, much to my regret.<br />
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Recently I have been reading through the book of John, soaking in the being and person of Jesus Christ. Time after time Jesus turned from his intended destination or goal and stopped to talk to someone in need, heal a suffering soul, or offer comfort. Along with his love, he offered his time and attention to those he cared about most, humankind. In a way, he chose the "slow bike", valuing the relationships over his original plans. I want to be like Christ, reflecting a stillness that has time to recognize the needs and the people around me. How easy it is to get caught up in the fast pace of life and the enjoyment of activities and things! <br />
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Leave the fast bike for someone else, I want to go slow.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-89318444298618721562013-12-07T23:08:00.000-08:002014-01-08T18:01:01.639-08:00Chop, Chop, Put it in the PotAs I set six huge apples out on the table with an array of knives, peelers and cutting boards, Kimberly skipped into the kitchen and asked, "Are you making applesauce? Please, please wait to make it until I finish my violin practice!"<br />
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"Sure can." I replied. My heart was happy.</div>
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An hour later we all gathered around the table. Kimberly and I peeled while Lindsay chopped and put the pieces of apple in the pot. Conversation flowed. I think a few more of Lindsay's chunks made it in the pot than landed in her mouth, but I wasn't keeping track. In went the lemon juice, cinnamon, salt, and water. Then onto the stove went the pot, and off to play went the girls. And to the dishes went I. With my hands up to the elbows in soap suds, I had a thankful heart; there was more in that pot than apples and cinnamon. </div>
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There was a memory made in that pot, a time when we could share a common task that benefited everyone come dinnertime. </div>
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There was laughter in that pot, silly jokes cracked around the table, apple slices on the floor, the kind of happiness that bubbles up inside when you are present in the moment.</div>
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There were lessons learned in that pot. How to hold a peeler, how to core an apple, how to share a cutting board, and how to work together.</div>
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There was a family tradition in that pot. We've done this before, listening to a Boxcar Children book on tape all the while. It was a memory that prompted Kim to ask for a repeat.</div>
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There was love in that pot, a time and place where we could come together around a pot of chopped apples and let the world slide by as we enjoyed one another's company.</div>
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As we tasted the product of our labors around the dinner table, commenting on the sweetness and the chunkiness of the applesauce, I realized what an integral part of life family traditions are. We have a few special things we do at certain times of the year, like green milk in the milk carton every April 1st, or funny face pancakes on birthday mornings, or short sheets on the bed. Now applesauce making has joined the list, and what I love about these moments is that they are simple, harmless, and bring pure joy to my heart and the hearts of my children. That's the type of love that grounds us and pulls us together as a family. It will get us through the tough days, when all is not fun and games, but struggles and conflict. I need these moments.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-81321501430737757542013-10-26T21:28:00.002-07:002013-10-26T21:29:06.619-07:00Some AdviceMain Street Grill is not a great place to have quality conversation with your children about where they think they'll be in the next 10-20 years. Why, you ask? Well, for one, the competing football game. For two, the noise level. And lastly, who thinks about what they're going to be like when they are 31 years old anyway?<br />
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We did nail down a few pointers in the midst of chaos.<br />
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<b>Lindsay on being 18 years old:</b><br />
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I'll be in high school! How old will I be when I start high school? 14! Wow. Then I'll go to college maybe if I want to.<br />
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<b>Kimberly on being 18 years old:</b><br />
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I'm going to go to college and be in a math class. I want to be an engineer like my dad, do something with math because I am really good at that.<br />
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<b>Lindsay on being 31 years old </b>(my current age)<b>:</b><br />
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Well, I don't know what I'll be like. <i>Glance at the tv. Comment on the pink helmets and black pants. </i>Those look nice together!<br />
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Actually, I'll be like Aunt Melanie, that's what. I'll always be correcting kids. And I'll probably have a baby too. <i> Giggle, giggle.</i><br />
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<b>Kimberly on being 31 years old:</b><br />
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I'll probably be doing Ebay or something like that. Or maybe I'll just be playing my violin or piano and not practicing.<br />
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<b>Lindsay on "what is a goal"?</b><br />
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Huh? I don't know what a goal is. You mean like make a goal?<br />
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<b>Kimberly on "what is a goal"?</b><br />
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It's like saying to yourself at swim lessons, "I can make it to the other side of the pool", and you do!<br />
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And that's when we made it our goal to finish our lunch and enjoy the rest of the afternoon </div>
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in Cambria.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-868311603494071802013-10-20T21:39:00.000-07:002013-10-20T21:40:41.100-07:00Earwig<div style="text-align: left;">
So Lindsay has been feeling a bit under the weather these last couple of days. Just a cold, which turned into a cough, which seems to be bothering her ears. This evening she dripped from the bathtub to her jammy drawer, then came shivering to find me before bed. </div>
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Wiggling one finger in her ear, I heard her mumble <i>I have a wig in there. </i></div>
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She looked at me uncertainly. </div>
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<i>What was that?</i> I questioned, trying hard to keep my smile under control.</div>
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<i>An earwig.</i></div>
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<i>Ear wax, maybe? </i>I prompted.</div>
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<i>Oh yeah. </i>Another wiggle of the finger. <i>It's not funny.</i></div>
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My laughter could be contained no longer.</div>
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Much better than a wig... or an earwig for that matter.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-14098567738831036302013-10-02T20:14:00.002-07:002013-10-02T20:14:52.001-07:00A New Birth DayWe had some pretty exciting stuff happening around here a couple of weeks ago. While reviewing Lindsay's memory verse for the week (Philippians 4:5), we got to talking about Jesus returning to earth and taking all believers to live with him forever. When I asked her if she would go to heaven, she said, "Well, Kimberly told me the words to say, but I don't really know what that means." <br />
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Talk about opportunity!<br />
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I tried not to get my hopes up. We had talked many times in the past and she just didn't have a clear understanding of the price Jesus paid for her. <br />
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"Will you read the story to me again, Mama? The one about Jesus dying on the cross?"<br />
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Music to my ears!<br />
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"Of course, dear." We opened up our Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes and read through the account of Jesus' betrayal, crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. Lindsay turned to me and said, "I want to believe, but I just don't know how to do it!"<br />
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Enter the analogy of a gift. "Just imagine I have this beautifully wrapped gift in my hands, with a big bow on top," I told her. "It's not your birthday or any special celebration, but I just want to give this gift to you because I love you. What would you do?"<br />
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She giggled. And said she didn't know. So I handed her a book. "Let's pretend this is the gift! What would you do?"<br />
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"Well, I would take it," she said.<br />
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"Right! And that is just how you believe! Just accept that Jesus loved you, Lindsay, enough to die for you and he is offering new life to you!"<br />
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"I want to do that," she said.<br />
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And she prayed. Hallelujah! The angels were singing, along with my heart.<br />
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Jesus moved right into her heart, and the resulting life in her has been astounding to watch unfold. <br />
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Is she still Lindsay? Yep.<br />
Is she still naughty? Uh, yeah.<br />
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But there are these little glimmers of something new growing in her soul that peek up out of the overgrown weed patch of a heart which has never known a Savior. <br />
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I am eternally grateful.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-38463972658687664042013-08-27T10:50:00.001-07:002013-08-27T10:53:36.644-07:00Approaching Autumn<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>There have been a few clues around here: </b></i></span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">-green acorns on the ground, caps still attached to their heads</span></b></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5ABCF1LPvyK6xhjzYSema4HTO4QBPMffWLqjBFuL_fRtAizgT3948ezqhSeWgmk7AtigSJxw58OiPImU9HzsTJQE9tbElTtrFitMW4OkacKRaUyWdmS6H1CCRD_Ruo8Q2iRZzR-48Uo/s1600/2013-08-27+10.27.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5ABCF1LPvyK6xhjzYSema4HTO4QBPMffWLqjBFuL_fRtAizgT3948ezqhSeWgmk7AtigSJxw58OiPImU9HzsTJQE9tbElTtrFitMW4OkacKRaUyWdmS6H1CCRD_Ruo8Q2iRZzR-48Uo/s400/2013-08-27+10.27.23.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-slightly yellowing tree leaves hanging on to summer by an invisible thread </i></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Qjhp2vochAVdBdAW_oxYzH86jhjm9g3lJN3F1SXIMM-JcfrYlhF-jMnjTepCnY8E1GkLruIXme6Vy3rVO8CtcNI8uBiGijLrwhfctJTVsl-dcv-9hVz7ZroJvWmoLF188-LHrfSPefg/s1600/2013-07-03+20.07.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Qjhp2vochAVdBdAW_oxYzH86jhjm9g3lJN3F1SXIMM-JcfrYlhF-jMnjTepCnY8E1GkLruIXme6Vy3rVO8CtcNI8uBiGijLrwhfctJTVsl-dcv-9hVz7ZroJvWmoLF188-LHrfSPefg/s640/2013-07-03+20.07.05.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-the gray of evening creeping in ever earlier</i></span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOh1Uu080iJueXmqVvyPF-MoIssoOi-CSyOY7-WtpGeNLi0_yce4sSmLAqb8pE26xHSUYjhqHaLKsSdgMUuNsFpqVYdrcK3NdQ7XVPLAx3t9cLREb8eeblzJ6dIhO4RF3WeAaLfLnuBw/s1600/2013-08-27+10.31.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOh1Uu080iJueXmqVvyPF-MoIssoOi-CSyOY7-WtpGeNLi0_yce4sSmLAqb8pE26xHSUYjhqHaLKsSdgMUuNsFpqVYdrcK3NdQ7XVPLAx3t9cLREb8eeblzJ6dIhO4RF3WeAaLfLnuBw/s400/2013-08-27+10.31.40.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-visions of crusty bread and steaming bowls of soup</i></span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-and a strange stirring of excitement deep inside me</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Yes, fall is on its way. Just a few more weeks and it will be official, but I have read the signs...</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>... my favorite season is approaching.</b></i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-29596487300614883472013-08-15T16:23:00.001-07:002013-10-20T21:41:04.957-07:00Farewell Summer<div style="text-align: center;">
It's been a good summer. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
An incredible summer, actually. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We enjoyed several lazy mornings (for which some of my friends say I should be grateful!)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9o8eBE1dCCouI2XMKMnVEOW9YyUXjXYltekXR8yinGGJv8GvnOcK2UmcvFrDUNJprahFOgm3T757IEQWIxCS1VSLfOylUsHZSpijvWKdkkkEn88pM6v4Zy6MX4JNQOKyQkypiGtB_BCY/s1600/2013-06-01+09.01.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9o8eBE1dCCouI2XMKMnVEOW9YyUXjXYltekXR8yinGGJv8GvnOcK2UmcvFrDUNJprahFOgm3T757IEQWIxCS1VSLfOylUsHZSpijvWKdkkkEn88pM6v4Zy6MX4JNQOKyQkypiGtB_BCY/s400/2013-06-01+09.01.29.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And while we fit in a few "lasts" before school begins for Lindsay, they were not our focus. Instead, making fun memories and enjoying being together was our goal. We even made a few "firsts"...</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/AVvXsEhGdCLxbac8VgTZdlUoOR3xyVlyWuZvqmaAYqjZLZeFFIoTT3D8G_IvBr2foLKzhFh4x1JVKfEqoTn1TnjJFztH5oq2ToMihsfMRPS3is5aQ34hGoGZtfQiFBYloiuPB4Reo20b4BMH1Gk/s1600/P1030077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGdCLxbac8VgTZdlUoOR3xyVlyWuZvqmaAYqjZLZeFFIoTT3D8G_IvBr2foLKzhFh4x1JVKfEqoTn1TnjJFztH5oq2ToMihsfMRPS3is5aQ34hGoGZtfQiFBYloiuPB4Reo20b4BMH1Gk/s400/P1030077.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Riding the train around Gilroy Gardens</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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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/AVvXsEjrbRTCANqcILYWMRTkKZ6BNB_Ws4RyP3rDEJ2N-FDwRBVgNtYsBEp7n2T74CIa9aSVYs9edE9lgn15j9BDNJspoc9l8-e7vLIWju8nULnMQ46DVRi1884SYp9LPaIhlQe9-eyERjbzlno/s1600/P1030104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrbRTCANqcILYWMRTkKZ6BNB_Ws4RyP3rDEJ2N-FDwRBVgNtYsBEp7n2T74CIa9aSVYs9edE9lgn15j9BDNJspoc9l8-e7vLIWju8nULnMQ46DVRi1884SYp9LPaIhlQe9-eyERjbzlno/s400/P1030104.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Panorama Wheel</span></td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEjwvUMatE8DUIkmu1RAxWo2jJt2g1KMVX_Upyq0n-K8LNWYpwYVf5bLvwBVC2vcmXLiJOfvSR7BTJHSSz4tikHDGnwkzgu2daSdA8undO5EadzFKHVNKY4iXqs8YeNRrVZMvtYC4lmEHk8/s1600/P1030139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvUMatE8DUIkmu1RAxWo2jJt2g1KMVX_Upyq0n-K8LNWYpwYVf5bLvwBVC2vcmXLiJOfvSR7BTJHSSz4tikHDGnwkzgu2daSdA8undO5EadzFKHVNKY4iXqs8YeNRrVZMvtYC4lmEHk8/s400/P1030139.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kimberly drives her first car! 1920's roadster</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
While spending a couple of days in Gilroy we ran into some car trouble. Too bad we were a mere mile and a half from the Factory Outlets! School shopping was our goal anyway, so we enjoyed walking though several stores while waiting for our car to be repaired. I'm very thankful that we were not stranded halfway from nowhere when the fan in the engine began to sound like a semi truck going down the highway. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></b><br />
<br />
We had a little midnight excitement one night...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8cB9ZTlQj5Y6qi8qo6hlAXnJl1iUx2PI9Kz8Sq93MtTGvp-aYa7w2b34cgDHuYXp8w8fsobb-OIhUOyuj5f6ZrTeyD7I_AJ76jP4pvAh1EbzOEERK8uMCNlsczMRsy_tWMm9zQ3pH6E/s1600/P1030050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8cB9ZTlQj5Y6qi8qo6hlAXnJl1iUx2PI9Kz8Sq93MtTGvp-aYa7w2b34cgDHuYXp8w8fsobb-OIhUOyuj5f6ZrTeyD7I_AJ76jP4pvAh1EbzOEERK8uMCNlsczMRsy_tWMm9zQ3pH6E/s400/P1030050.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Hearing a commotion after 12 o'clock a.m. from the parrots we are bird-sitting, I groggily peered through the blinds to find a raccoon prying open a window and making his way inside our garden shed where the birds are kept. Throwing on my ancient bathrobe, I hurried to the front door and carefully stepped outside, knowing the raccoons around here tend to run in groups. When I didn't see any more around, I went for the water hose, spray nozzle set to "jet", and the hard rake. Sure enough, by banging on the back of the shed and spraying the metal with high powered water, and making enough racket to wake the dead, I scared three of the critters out of the shed. Cautiously opening the door with my rake, I made sure I couldn't see more before entering to assure the birds' safety. Then I locked all the windows and moved a heavy pot in front of the door to hold it shut. </div>
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Back to bed I went. </div>
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Two minutes after my head hit the pillow, the birds were at it again. This time, while looking through the window of the shed, I spied three more pairs of eyes. True story. And I had bravely entered the "raccoons den" while they had been holed up somewhere in there, watching my every move with their beady eyes. Thank goodness for the brown bathrobe... they must have mistaken me for a bear...</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/AVvXsEgflCqZ01JMVqsqkivwBLVWtkHXsOh-4rtLCHZQl3KInbCLhKcO1DJ2V3OG03HpqyLdEr2sc63uoXSQAZhD2ZrmK5UFYfh1ox00o8zxwmi3wVM4GYpK_bU_YVK5dtik06W9-w4s2GRHWEI/s1600/P1030052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflCqZ01JMVqsqkivwBLVWtkHXsOh-4rtLCHZQl3KInbCLhKcO1DJ2V3OG03HpqyLdEr2sc63uoXSQAZhD2ZrmK5UFYfh1ox00o8zxwmi3wVM4GYpK_bU_YVK5dtik06W9-w4s2GRHWEI/s400/P1030052.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My raccoon scaring tools of choice</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></b><br />
<br />
And the big finale of this summer culminated with the<br />
<i>Carnival and Circus Party </i><br />
at Alan and Melanie's house.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-of7L0ZpxXsBjDa8_kkCeN6z5WzXRT-sEn-kxmlISOHMm2ZzjVdwtpuYsKx5IaSQ66YUoX_uMhLDkWOhgVcFj6TKLlqnCzCMS0Mfw7oxnar8QdRE0NB7sAczqL3EL3B0ASYmtBdS5aLQ/s1600/P1030159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-of7L0ZpxXsBjDa8_kkCeN6z5WzXRT-sEn-kxmlISOHMm2ZzjVdwtpuYsKx5IaSQ66YUoX_uMhLDkWOhgVcFj6TKLlqnCzCMS0Mfw7oxnar8QdRE0NB7sAczqL3EL3B0ASYmtBdS5aLQ/s400/P1030159.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1f8Yk2Ri1wd3q8zZEq2DMWP04_Df-TOYYDF4Odt6wltmltibB0f07AJUWYe6yFtw_5-gTFDKJcGjJCcTQtUlOele6TCrMGz2qA2cm-aSKfye0QaQRP0O59Kq7I4TgBnslf9_RvZYknA/s1600/P1030162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1f8Yk2Ri1wd3q8zZEq2DMWP04_Df-TOYYDF4Odt6wltmltibB0f07AJUWYe6yFtw_5-gTFDKJcGjJCcTQtUlOele6TCrMGz2qA2cm-aSKfye0QaQRP0O59Kq7I4TgBnslf9_RvZYknA/s400/P1030162.JPG" width="300" /></a><br />
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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/AVvXsEjJ-HH_qOBoE-ir8r2da-yCBBOUWqQ61sZZe7mzSJbDdaUlYKLs53-t9uaWXUbSgECyexYGz2-bfsmkdQTJ0e2vxRCvmg6g0_6WHhmeQ56N_zvXNK_23zIJWKGNdIfvACtSk27KqEq8RK0/s1600/P1030151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-HH_qOBoE-ir8r2da-yCBBOUWqQ61sZZe7mzSJbDdaUlYKLs53-t9uaWXUbSgECyexYGz2-bfsmkdQTJ0e2vxRCvmg6g0_6WHhmeQ56N_zvXNK_23zIJWKGNdIfvACtSk27KqEq8RK0/s400/P1030151.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lindsay and Corrine ride the train made by Alan Payton </span></td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEhCc6Xcu_qska6N8u3toOU0hrb26iIbBDR_ORSNdMPO35Ykg4q-rjF5Y-y6KnPUpMz4siz-GunawoL3-Fv2XN7yCH7BDUcUi301MrGZRbzCw1KToHNvWLxBRQO8SAbA-TEK7ZxFICbouQM/s1600/P1030152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCc6Xcu_qska6N8u3toOU0hrb26iIbBDR_ORSNdMPO35Ykg4q-rjF5Y-y6KnPUpMz4siz-GunawoL3-Fv2XN7yCH7BDUcUi301MrGZRbzCw1KToHNvWLxBRQO8SAbA-TEK7ZxFICbouQM/s400/P1030152.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kimberly the Clown</span></td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEhE45MvAwBBHX7KUun8uqWv5kEkZaNlgJpaJddjemVgkxjbnXgnaVYKtr8WawrQdpwHZ8Y-RfmIqgCosw1IvJkEWTy-oc3RsY283J1IYikZk_2d8dQEIbBO3TxraTgikaxfFKm2GJ8kujE/s1600/P1030161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE45MvAwBBHX7KUun8uqWv5kEkZaNlgJpaJddjemVgkxjbnXgnaVYKtr8WawrQdpwHZ8Y-RfmIqgCosw1IvJkEWTy-oc3RsY283J1IYikZk_2d8dQEIbBO3TxraTgikaxfFKm2GJ8kujE/s400/P1030161.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The cousins</span></td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEilnLK67_QQ5Im2y5uOcTIGWEutDxUdU-mpG6GI1akTulOu5TGzmWYDVz11QQa_P0QKgEiUQQPUob1qWb6bEAs8O9G21N-D9NM9kgIjLHe_U4Qrt4xRypdnKBuuiRKJiUSiedtrjGVQGp8/s1600/P1030163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnLK67_QQ5Im2y5uOcTIGWEutDxUdU-mpG6GI1akTulOu5TGzmWYDVz11QQa_P0QKgEiUQQPUob1qWb6bEAs8O9G21N-D9NM9kgIjLHe_U4Qrt4xRypdnKBuuiRKJiUSiedtrjGVQGp8/s400/P1030163.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cameron the Clown</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgY2RA3XDK4SLfsIsl-iYPUmGZz0Q3IjRoDiVut3E3JEXg1rCSlaa0wMv-EY-VqU5d-aPSugMO91aVIRB46XA7nZvSUcjsmeL1WN5iNidD-mzWJR5EgQo_W8jGdU9TsGOiJKM7iEVMx618/s1600/P1030164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2RA3XDK4SLfsIsl-iYPUmGZz0Q3IjRoDiVut3E3JEXg1rCSlaa0wMv-EY-VqU5d-aPSugMO91aVIRB46XA7nZvSUcjsmeL1WN5iNidD-mzWJR5EgQo_W8jGdU9TsGOiJKM7iEVMx618/s400/P1030164.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">What a fine looking couple!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhUoW70nMA7wRcBd6LX4gvutgj0-ZBiVTfjnmBceTWrBWUNI_nuoeHMuus1NpXFCSbo1tj8rnZrJatpVDy5ksXvGMqH91qLw0Ed4gLgvJpfQOlQ11rsyThmtcFHLO4VTVCwjwUM6PbCsiQ/s1600/P1030166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoW70nMA7wRcBd6LX4gvutgj0-ZBiVTfjnmBceTWrBWUNI_nuoeHMuus1NpXFCSbo1tj8rnZrJatpVDy5ksXvGMqH91qLw0Ed4gLgvJpfQOlQ11rsyThmtcFHLO4VTVCwjwUM6PbCsiQ/s400/P1030166.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Friends!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEiZZTRgLcNPS1k7gu0sXj8Sc7Lgexl_hlAqzjtSeBTw-fv3ff9ayZ6xgZv2E-HM-5L4zKBFcwKuF58oAnLVKMWQqNbDVCaIzdLIlUMJLjqmsxV-u6wv-K9VixGbrhB4jURxV7aFJNwPLFY/s1600/P1030167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZTRgLcNPS1k7gu0sXj8Sc7Lgexl_hlAqzjtSeBTw-fv3ff9ayZ6xgZv2E-HM-5L4zKBFcwKuF58oAnLVKMWQqNbDVCaIzdLIlUMJLjqmsxV-u6wv-K9VixGbrhB4jURxV7aFJNwPLFY/s400/P1030167.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some "carnies" - Nelson and Cherisa</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEio5stBS5R4cmry_8vqDC6uuI8C2A38HBZW7H_NdKzmaLDCNWau5pSkccUWUmN8e2TjSbKylg4aNUqjZR0_msEOAAGPYUNxoRQ5PnAV7qEMuJpSQa42_RZDUIgr9yA16LbDz-xGnRHtW4E/s1600/P1030173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5stBS5R4cmry_8vqDC6uuI8C2A38HBZW7H_NdKzmaLDCNWau5pSkccUWUmN8e2TjSbKylg4aNUqjZR0_msEOAAGPYUNxoRQ5PnAV7qEMuJpSQa42_RZDUIgr9yA16LbDz-xGnRHtW4E/s400/P1030173.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">T. Ryan - the Magician with his little zebra</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhEZP22sAwgFa9E4Zw38DHJvflyxv0iGxdNNMmPdzjZGupjo-n16lyLDTObkxF4dtRq-oow5WouAxSUIWP9e-9H5WHl4-24SJrdwOTflfz3qbaRy1davmVlD8btOGvJgbZE5SEhV4cAisg/s1600/P1030179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZP22sAwgFa9E4Zw38DHJvflyxv0iGxdNNMmPdzjZGupjo-n16lyLDTObkxF4dtRq-oow5WouAxSUIWP9e-9H5WHl4-24SJrdwOTflfz3qbaRy1davmVlD8btOGvJgbZE5SEhV4cAisg/s400/P1030179.JPG" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tall Man Swift</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEg52LqIMb9BsAF9wJ7moaa4fjBfg0_ABx5kGKZdIVROQJhEWofzJW2dKN5xmET6P6bof2uu7DAatzGGswib_TPy2UsAN2e6a3FrQv_U_HMu54dz1_T0DpOR7fQPxT91h6eCvETQqo_LsbA/s1600/P1030183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52LqIMb9BsAF9wJ7moaa4fjBfg0_ABx5kGKZdIVROQJhEWofzJW2dKN5xmET6P6bof2uu7DAatzGGswib_TPy2UsAN2e6a3FrQv_U_HMu54dz1_T0DpOR7fQPxT91h6eCvETQqo_LsbA/s400/P1030183.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Zebra Stevens'</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgjW5XtyfRBgQ-A1XV-DvUIMuxYHwf0woZLyzYsbhyY4m8VySHPj_h-XheNMrkHLS_ECB-3-CxYeAeghcFZBtq8IbAhS9RM6D2YmBjy8YoW-1Bcz0qpZakdXy7QAUZRtzhB4WtGSv20nzs/s1600/P1030185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjW5XtyfRBgQ-A1XV-DvUIMuxYHwf0woZLyzYsbhyY4m8VySHPj_h-XheNMrkHLS_ECB-3-CxYeAeghcFZBtq8IbAhS9RM6D2YmBjy8YoW-1Bcz0qpZakdXy7QAUZRtzhB4WtGSv20nzs/s400/P1030185.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the lucky goldfish winners!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEhPgzpthXUK8hpBEUlbZIv_pJyTk1wEYBn2I9JUMCkD5KV2UxTHZBgFVlcrggEKk7z8SmYCICPcXPL6H_fgoZ17RYVd7XSonP7nifIyCgVfzXOJnmoEDvgXE_KG_gCEjpBQDuVmzvNpeKk/s1600/P1030160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgzpthXUK8hpBEUlbZIv_pJyTk1wEYBn2I9JUMCkD5KV2UxTHZBgFVlcrggEKk7z8SmYCICPcXPL6H_fgoZ17RYVd7XSonP7nifIyCgVfzXOJnmoEDvgXE_KG_gCEjpBQDuVmzvNpeKk/s400/P1030160.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Between costumes, food, games, and friends, the event turned out even better than we could have hoped! A huge thank you to all of you who helped out, asked or not! You made it all come together and we couldn't have done it without you.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~ </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">~</span></b><br />
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It's sad to tell you goodbye, summer, but a new season is ahead of us with it's own sense of adventure and promise. New experiences lie before us in many aspects of life, some known, and some unknown. But the Creator of the heavens and earth knew about them even before time began, so we are trusting that He has it all under control. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-61576688849261714632013-07-31T06:30:00.000-07:002013-07-31T06:30:00.352-07:00Happy 9th Birthday Kimberly!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Nine years ago today you were a welcomed addition to our family. It was hard to believe that God gave me the responsibility of snuggling you, caring for you, and raising you to know about His love.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeahvgjkU5C9zdwHFayXv6FQASmNM1AP1D4J8X5GbSNQIH9-KkOocCffE_SJ5mkJg-fSEFp1XAsyJNVjyDRCkXxOFNMbY93gxCF_ZKsRVDT6otHTl222llW-VHinKFYAbWJr0V958lbE/s1600/32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeahvgjkU5C9zdwHFayXv6FQASmNM1AP1D4J8X5GbSNQIH9-KkOocCffE_SJ5mkJg-fSEFp1XAsyJNVjyDRCkXxOFNMbY93gxCF_ZKsRVDT6otHTl222llW-VHinKFYAbWJr0V958lbE/s320/32.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4abC_ZVRLa2yg0rP47p5Vg2gh5fxSIkDxuKZANHO87X5zx0nJEDzfdFSfHRUS0qMqRxCHHzAdbOuASQ9GmKANTYU-O4Lv5s5okj31_Gj6j7ThdAxYA1ABVXCUBkaCc3XUVonZQLnUdCo/s1600/30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4abC_ZVRLa2yg0rP47p5Vg2gh5fxSIkDxuKZANHO87X5zx0nJEDzfdFSfHRUS0qMqRxCHHzAdbOuASQ9GmKANTYU-O4Lv5s5okj31_Gj6j7ThdAxYA1ABVXCUBkaCc3XUVonZQLnUdCo/s320/30.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As the years passed and your personality began to develop, </div>
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my love for you grew right along with you.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-UaI5pdmIf9NQLEr7BHAB-C_nhIDf1_s6clQdNzlMUAjXsWi1fvPyekLBncDq6x1LRvaDt1SqK-Ie6UNrS1hY2xFch0TFzpaTQEQT7A9nhPOM5mWkz4edMWqK5G4gUyUSyRL3T22w4s/s1600/Family+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-UaI5pdmIf9NQLEr7BHAB-C_nhIDf1_s6clQdNzlMUAjXsWi1fvPyekLBncDq6x1LRvaDt1SqK-Ie6UNrS1hY2xFch0TFzpaTQEQT7A9nhPOM5mWkz4edMWqK5G4gUyUSyRL3T22w4s/s320/Family+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We encountered some life changing events, along with a big move and a new baby sister, all in the space of a few months. But God never left us. We still smiled and played trains, had tickle fights, counted the stars He had made, and thanked Him for taking good care of us.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_XTE07oOgwR5eCvbzJH_wJhyLycB9vtkU2kXwJeGE_YKYSRrqqE2lRFf40gOPidQ3kvMPtwtQ6CL5dDMfS0AsLw4en72_SiFrcINfb9JOJg2Qjdfs8rUHkcilTsc9SnmH-5gUU8UcB0/s1600/DSCN3284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_XTE07oOgwR5eCvbzJH_wJhyLycB9vtkU2kXwJeGE_YKYSRrqqE2lRFf40gOPidQ3kvMPtwtQ6CL5dDMfS0AsLw4en72_SiFrcINfb9JOJg2Qjdfs8rUHkcilTsc9SnmH-5gUU8UcB0/s320/DSCN3284.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Kindergarten came along, teeth left, skirts got shorter, </div>
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and your happy face continued to shine.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-siSt48I3zbn5BrAnBMF9Nai8DUqcr3sP0fAi2DGeVKrLRSPPERfJ5QaaigGBSW_q1KqBYmr55syJPK9Mf8M1uQpd4614Z_Blq7_TjP3m373Hd4DQ_0K5PEfkyfa7jNWQ_koswlvKV8/s1600/San+Diego+2010+186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib-siSt48I3zbn5BrAnBMF9Nai8DUqcr3sP0fAi2DGeVKrLRSPPERfJ5QaaigGBSW_q1KqBYmr55syJPK9Mf8M1uQpd4614Z_Blq7_TjP3m373Hd4DQ_0K5PEfkyfa7jNWQ_koswlvKV8/s320/San+Diego+2010+186.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then you had a new birth day... the day you asked Jesus into your heart. </div>
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I cried tears of joy to know that you understood your need for a Savior. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAArfuFCUUnil45EQBULtepM9hZ6utjXz2IMmv8l9PfGUxcHlV9JLe0eT9rR3qjHN6uAZTLVf9b0zIkCUpNz1otMm_wx1BI3FiFGL05gFSFio3EanXno4sogGahUG74QPsTCw2J2-Hh3I/s1600/P1010739-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAArfuFCUUnil45EQBULtepM9hZ6utjXz2IMmv8l9PfGUxcHlV9JLe0eT9rR3qjHN6uAZTLVf9b0zIkCUpNz1otMm_wx1BI3FiFGL05gFSFio3EanXno4sogGahUG74QPsTCw2J2-Hh3I/s320/P1010739-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Every year you grow more beautiful, inside and out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2RDK7IJpJ0Ielkwnk45savuCJf6gjmVo9Chb66tUzeWKno458PA184Yrg39-dtfpLWAy1bMn5qT4B16lBelbhJW68t0eRN7OEdh6Hr3r-PRRMRjLmEW1pEaIDvWl88MS7sFzBrLX-D_E/s1600/P1020853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2RDK7IJpJ0Ielkwnk45savuCJf6gjmVo9Chb66tUzeWKno458PA184Yrg39-dtfpLWAy1bMn5qT4B16lBelbhJW68t0eRN7OEdh6Hr3r-PRRMRjLmEW1pEaIDvWl88MS7sFzBrLX-D_E/s320/P1020853.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And this year will be no exception!</div>
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Thank you for being our practical child, for sharing your knowledge with us, and challenging us on world geography.</div>
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Thank you for sharing your love for books with us as we enjoy </div>
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evenings together reading aloud.</div>
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Thank you for taking the time you need to think about the answers to life's questions.</div>
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Thank you for being strong enough to just be you, even in the midst of adversity.</div>
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Thank you for tickle fights, made-up games, and straightening us out on the rules.</div>
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Thank you for sharing your life with us.</div>
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I love you, Kimberly...</div>
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Happy Birthday!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-22754327350915825572013-07-06T22:18:00.000-07:002013-07-06T23:24:16.205-07:00Maiden Voyage<div style="text-align: center;">
Some evenings are just made for being outside. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was one of them. </span></div>
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Greg and Tamee, Wyatt and Brennen joined us for a picnic at the lake park, followed by Craig, Lynn, and Carissa. Unfortunately we forgot that it was "music in the park", but <i>fortunately </i> there was also a wedding going on nearby so the DJ had to keep the sound to a minimum. </div>
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After enjoying barbecued chicken salad, we packed up and headed around the lake to another spot launch our new craft. While I dutifully manned the electric pump, Greg worked up a sweat with the "double-action pump guaranteed to inflate your boat in 10 minutes or less." Soon the vessel was pronounced seaworthy, life jackets were in place, and the maiden voyage was ready to begin. Only Atascadero "swamp water" was used in the christening of this boat.</div>
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After a few trial runs, Greg managed to get the hang of rowing. That is until one of the oar locks broke. Tell you what, it works pretty well as a canoe, too! Craig fished, Brennen played, Kimberly, Lindsay, and Wyatt ate cupcakes...</div>
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...and a good time was had by all!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-27617303129958571452013-06-27T22:38:00.002-07:002013-07-23T00:03:46.135-07:00Lake Tahoe, the Second<h2>
Virginia City, Nevada</h2>
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There we were in the delightful old town of Virginia City, Nevada. The day was cool, quite a change from the last time I visited when the word "desert" described the atmosphere exactly. </div>
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The Wild West show was more about startling unsuspecting victims by shooting blanks than it was true western history. We did eventually get used to the loud bangs, though Lindsay spent the entire show with ears covered and one eye peering out for danger.</div>
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Kimberly and Lindsay met the cowboy and the sheriff</div>
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All aboard! About to embark on the Virginia and Truckee Railroad steam engine.</div>
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Kimberly photographs the sights.</div>
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And a little treat to curb the afternoon appetite!</div>
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<h2>
Squaw Valley, USA</h2>
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Riding the tram car to the top of Squaw Valley offered an interesting surprise. Of course we knew the view would be spectacular, but we didn't expect the fields of wildflowers or the patches of snow we would find there.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad tries his hand at snow "boarding"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Lindsay and Kimberly did too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Definitely was not counting on snow</td></tr>
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<h2>
Magic Carpet Mini Golf</h2>
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There is a reason why I have never played real golf... I have terrible aim. So playing mini golf with my two daughters is right up my ally. No schedule, no scorecard, many laughs, some wild shots, and a hole-in-two make the game just my speed.</div>
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<h2>
The Lake</h2>
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Here are just a few more photos of Lake Tahoe. We were blessed beyond measure to be able to enjoy God's creation in such a magnificent fashion. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodnight!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-86472630296848217712013-06-26T22:26:00.001-07:002013-07-23T00:04:06.881-07:00Lake Tahoe, the FirstSummer is here. And summer means vacation, right? This year we were blessed to be able to take a longer vacation than normal, and it worked out that we could go just as soon as school was out.<br />
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There's something about water, just about any body of water, that speaks to my soul. Perhaps it's the peaceful movement or the reflection of light, the sound of lapping waves or the sense of cooling refreshment. Whatever it is, there was plenty of it to be had at Lake Tahoe.<br />
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The place we stayed was on the northwest shore of the lake in a little town called Homewood.</div>
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See that chair there in the corner? Great place to curl up with a book or take a nap. </div>
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Ask me how I know...</div>
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Kimberly and Lindsay enjoyed some quiet reading time in the evenings.</div>
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And we never saw a bear on the back patio, though we were warned they like to stroll through that part of the woods.</div>
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One of our first excursions was hiking down a mile long trail to visit Vikingsholm.</div>
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It has probably been twenty years since I have been there, and I commented to Kimberly and Lindsay that the estate had seemed so much bigger when I was a little girl. It is still an amazing piece of architecture, built in six months!</div>
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After our tour we enjoyed the beach at Emerald Bay...</div>
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fought off the geese so we could eat our lunch...</div>
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watched the ferry come around the island...</div>
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then enjoyed our hike back to the top.</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/AVvXsEgogXWh3d490FqwXWvxxWrpSrIOzdZBXxT3we3HPGNF3Wo0D1QdRRLFP0aUfTsTErruDfwUgdrkF1mv_49VbFtmtuDOQ5vyBwgZyLxwMGzgZCadMH53XNM83YdXrDhNIxT_R_dZO0aPTOo/s1600/P1020860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogXWh3d490FqwXWvxxWrpSrIOzdZBXxT3we3HPGNF3Wo0D1QdRRLFP0aUfTsTErruDfwUgdrkF1mv_49VbFtmtuDOQ5vyBwgZyLxwMGzgZCadMH53XNM83YdXrDhNIxT_R_dZO0aPTOo/s400/P1020860.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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The scenery was so breathtaking, so awe-inspiring, so vividly reminiscent of our God. </div>
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We have an amazing Creator! </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-72744325216395046742013-05-27T08:00:00.000-07:002013-05-27T17:11:19.749-07:00Happy 5th Birthday Lindsay!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Five years ago:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrHFXBssgI-tU-FBTsJ1IUXYFOeRDVvy0ku_gjRgthkLsjOSWeuaAKpyNaFWPJzaNLp0urCXFcrQmF5R_LxNM0BpTKixCtMxfF14ysE2_odMuB97-IsW-7SgOPEmJBuo11jp7heqOnxY/s1600/April+08+101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrHFXBssgI-tU-FBTsJ1IUXYFOeRDVvy0ku_gjRgthkLsjOSWeuaAKpyNaFWPJzaNLp0urCXFcrQmF5R_LxNM0BpTKixCtMxfF14ysE2_odMuB97-IsW-7SgOPEmJBuo11jp7heqOnxY/s320/April+08+101.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Two days before Lindsay's birth</div>
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May 27, 2008</div>
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Connie Hasley, my doula</div>
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With big sis</div>
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Starting those smiles early!</div>
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Lindsay, it's hard to believe you are five already! You are a beautiful little girl, full of fun, zip, and excitement. Giggles announce your arrival, and smiles your departure. </div>
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I love your excitement about the small things. </div>
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Things like bugs and tree blossoms and pajamas.</div>
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I love your compassionate heart that wants to heal hurts and bring smiles to our faces.</div>
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I love your sharing nature that willingly gives to all and makes sure to divide</div>
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your last stick of gum into three pieces.</div>
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I love your voice that almost never stops talking.</div>
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I love your spontaneous nature that wants to drop everything and have a tea party.</div>
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I love your creative energy that pirouettes around the room in a pink tutu.</div>
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I love your sense of humor that tries to scare me from behind the bed. Every day.</div>
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I love your imagination that 'I spies" white clouds in a clear blue sky.</div>
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But most of all, I love YOU.</div>
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Happy Birthday Sweetie!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-60544342544583765992013-05-20T22:41:00.000-07:002013-07-23T00:04:31.914-07:00The CountdownYou know that feeling when you are playing Boggle and the sand is running out in the hour glass? You are sure there has to be at least one more word you could quickly jot down that would knock the socks off your competition. In the anxiousness of the moment you miss the simple word "CAT" staring you in the face, the one no one else saw either. It would have been the winning point.<br />
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I'm staring down that timer right now. Only it's not Boggle we're playing here, it's the beginning of kindergarten for my youngest. <br />
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Only a short time ago (it seems), Kimberly was setting foot out into the great big world of school. I shed two tears as I pulled away from the curb in front of the school. She was too busy playing with her newly made friends to wave. Apparently she didn't need me anymore. <br />
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Life did settle down into a nice routine, and it was amazing how quickly Kimberly needed me again... right when she got home and was hungry for lunch! While the transition took some getting used to, it was time for the change. Kimberly was ready to move on in life.</div>
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For some reason, thinking of Lindsay setting out on her own is completely different for me. </div>
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Maybe because she is the youngest.</div>
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Likely because I fear the adjustment, the unknown of a quiet house every day.</div>
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Definitely because I know she will change, grow up, be more inhibited, and less innocent. </div>
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She might even realize that she is not everyone's best friend...</div>
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Already I'm envisioning the notes home stating, "Talks too much in class", and dramatic renditions of real (or imagined) joys experienced and hurts suffered.</div>
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Friends are reassuring me that all will be well. Thank you for your encouragement! When I think about the future it is easy to fear and find tears threatening to spill. But when I bring my thoughts back to the here and now, I know my Lord has given me strength for today. I don't have that strength for tomorrow yet. Or the strength for August 21st. But when I get there it will be waiting. His mercies are new every morning.</div>
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So as these last few grains of time before school slip through our fingers, my aim is to be grounded in the present. Every dish left unwashed due to a game of Trouble or Sorry, every moment of sleep lost to an early morning snuggle, every sore muscle from teaching balance on a two wheeled bike will be but a memory to smile over in the days to come. They may be obvious, and they may be small, but they are the experiences God has honored me with. These will be my "winning" moments. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-28739720579538972102013-05-09T21:34:00.000-07:002013-05-09T22:50:50.068-07:00Six Little Ladies for Tea<div style="text-align: center;">
Should we choose the teal dress or the red velvet?</div>
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Pearls or beads?</div>
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Silver shoes or none at all?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtB7xH4chjmLWanyTEmvopJFzDx7-4Z1KSwoH-lio50fUVlgvGRqJc3ZBLmBtdf3_aJZhyEYDBHtbEi41w8GRqv1Q3S3ifTb1Mb4sr726cEmK3XYoTbs6d3jFcSeS5SIWtzSGWM2NHTc/s1600/P1020698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtB7xH4chjmLWanyTEmvopJFzDx7-4Z1KSwoH-lio50fUVlgvGRqJc3ZBLmBtdf3_aJZhyEYDBHtbEi41w8GRqv1Q3S3ifTb1Mb4sr726cEmK3XYoTbs6d3jFcSeS5SIWtzSGWM2NHTc/s320/P1020698.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
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Then the waiting... who will come first?</div>
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So many questions when you are almost five.</div>
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The guests have arrived!</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/AVvXsEhU4nzcedfjCR1M3Kp7qdbqZQUssn2hfgemjJu-Ounwwd6H7ihrw2pMspzWWBi92fTPX3xz2W1AF3grk6RjWz8Z0-9g7Ndw9_PK50yAGR8JHPRPhAny3tpTymLeVLsO1eW0MZpTNmyvNqs/s1600/May+2013-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4nzcedfjCR1M3Kp7qdbqZQUssn2hfgemjJu-Ounwwd6H7ihrw2pMspzWWBi92fTPX3xz2W1AF3grk6RjWz8Z0-9g7Ndw9_PK50yAGR8JHPRPhAny3tpTymLeVLsO1eW0MZpTNmyvNqs/s640/May+2013-001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clockwise from top left: Claire McWilliams, Lindsay Whaley, Corrine McWilliams, Alexia Anastasia,<br />
Olivia Whaley, and Kendra Perry</td></tr>
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Let's have tea.</div>
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And cupcakes, and cucumber sandwiches, and chocolate dipped marshmallows, and cookies, and deviled eggs, and olives, and strawberries.</div>
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Then we'll play for a while.</div>
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And while we're at it, let's celebrate Lindsay's birthday a couple weeks early.</div>
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She's quite the little lady!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-58253371185517289352013-05-06T21:53:00.000-07:002013-05-06T21:53:24.079-07:00Blessings and the ExodusMy cup is full and overflowing tonight. It's one of those evenings when I sit down after the kids are in bed and am thankful and thrilled by the undeserved blessings God has showered on me. It's been a lovely day...<br />
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Coffee and laughter with sweet friends.<br />
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Feeding the ducks with <i>all </i>my Whaley <span style="text-align: center;">nieces and nephews.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Snuggling a certain nephew with the cutest rolls you've ever seen!</span></div>
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Laughing and tickle fights.</div>
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Enjoying being home and being together.</div>
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After dinner Kimberly asked if we could continue reading in Exodus where we left off this morning.</div>
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"No, that's not right," Lindsay piped up. "We're reading in Letticus!"</div>
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Teasingly, I told the girls we were just getting to the good part (the genealogy of Aaron and Moses.) After about four verses of names, Lindsay suggested that this was a little boring because there were no pictures, and that maybe we should just play trains. </div>
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"What's wrong," I asked her, chuckling. "You don't like hearing names like Phinehas? Maybe I should have named you that. Phinehas Michelle Whaley. Or maybe you would have liked Lindsay Phinehas Whaley better. What do you think?"</div>
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Looking thoughtful, she replied. "Well, actually, I think I do want you to call me that. Yes, but just you. That can be your special name for me. Phinehas. Yes, that's just right."</div>
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Oh dear. </div>
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I'm thinking I should have gone for Carmi or Mahali instead.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-50343883450297660232013-04-29T21:46:00.000-07:002013-04-30T08:21:19.544-07:00Butterfly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
...needles, that is</div>
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We had a lesson in phlebotomy recently...</div>
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Nothing to worry about, just a routine check up, but Kimberly's first experience with any type of lab work. I must say, she was a champ! On the way home we discussed how everything works, from needles to tubes, from alcohol wipes to veins. </div>
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And it reminded me of this not-so-lovely day 4 and 1/2 years ago...</div>
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It all started with a UT infection at 5 and 1/2 months old. Lindsay couldn't keep the antibiotic down, and a visit to the doctor resulted in an emergency room visit.</div>
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And then an ambulance ride.</div>
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And three nights accommodation in the children's ward of French Hospital for both of us.</div>
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Describing the event to my children was like walking down the sterile, dingy halls of the third floor, pushing open the door to the dim, cramped children's ward, and feeling the lump in my throat as the doctor announced, "We need to change her IV."</div>
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My mind had been whirling since the ER doctor first asked for Lindsay's car seat and promptly strapped her, and it, onto a stretcher and wheeled her to a waiting ambulance. As we were whisked off into the night, my heart ached with the knowledge that I was unexpectedly leaving Kimberly behind with only a hug and a kiss. I continued the prayer I had started earlier in the day. </div>
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Well past her bedtime when we arrived, Lindsay was in hysterics, and the nurses proceeded to undress her in that cold, heartless room. And poke her. And take her temperature. And splint her arm so she wouldn't yank out the IV. I put her to sleep in a "crib" that was just about as welcoming as a cage at the zoo.</div>
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I slept in my clothes that night.</div>
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The next day we woke to more tests and feeding issues to deal with. Of course there was also waiting, and a hurting, unhappy baby. Some lovely folks came by to visit, and a friend brought me iced coffee. I'm not quite sure why she thought I needed it?!? Then the blood draw. Three nurses and myself couldn't keep Lindsay still enough to get the needle in. One itsy-bitsy butterfly needle turned into five or six as they repeatedly missed her vein. My whole being shivered and cringed at her screams. Tears threatened and I will never forget it. Or the paci-shaped sucker that finally made her calm enough to relax. Thank goodness for sugar... and prayer.</div>
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Some tests were scheduled for the following day, so we settled in for another wait. Kimberly came to visit, and we played with Little People at a small table by the window. She told me today that she remembers playing with me, and then begging me to play some more when I needed to go check on Lindsay. "I was missing your attention," she said. "You were all paying so much attention to Lindsay." My heart hurt all over again.</div>
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That evening, with the baby in bed, we squeezed two chairs into our little cubicle behind the curtain for my parents, and I sat on the bed, knowing we had two more nights in the hospital. Without warning, I knew I needed to throw up. Gross, yeah. I had the full-blown stomach virus. In my mind I can still clearly see the yellow sign posted in front of my bed while the janitor cleaned up the floor. Caution: Contaminated Area. I sort of felt like a roach. On second thought, maybe that was just part of the "bug"...</div>
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There were 37 steps from my bed to the bathroom past the nurses station. I know because I visited it six times that night. </div>
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I felt better by the first morning light, and we made it through the last day with flying colors, though I chaffed to be home with my daughters, wished for a daily shower, and prayed that the tests would come back clear. They did. And we went home. </div>
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Looking back, I remember being worried about Lindsay, the emotions of seeing a child in pain, the fear of the unknown. But trumping those feelings is the reality of never feeling alone. My Savior was right beside me the whole time. Especially when I thought things couldn't get worse, and they did! All the love and support shown to us in our time of need was His provision for us. God truly uses people in amazing ways.</div>
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Even the janitor...</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4255869577395830890.post-8963981140971998372013-04-27T12:00:00.000-07:002013-04-27T19:33:53.040-07:00Lemonade Days<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ever since she could write, Kimberly has been using her entrepreneurial skills to </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">drum up business and make a few cents.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes it's lemonade and cookies, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">sometimes it's hot cocoa and cupcakes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One time it was water...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then there was the time we had lemonade and cups on the driveway, far back from the busy street, and sweet handmade signs offering "Lemonaid for 25ยข". No yard sale, no event taking place nearby. Just a lemonade stand on the driveway in the middle of a hot summer day. A discreet phone call to a kind neighbor lady produced some business, coins rattled in the money box, a slightly sticky cup of warm Country Time lemonade exchanged hands, and there was happiness all around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are life lessons to be learned in lemonade. Lemons and sugar. Some sweet, some sour. Lessons designed by God that teach us to glorify Him with our lives. And that is my goal in sharing some of our lovely days here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To bring honor to His name.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11925970663841004465noreply@blogger.com6