tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80877436425588617362024-03-08T06:24:17.633-06:00Was just thinking about.......Christian journey, my thoughts4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-36559711371264841922014-05-26T00:18:00.002-05:002014-05-26T00:18:16.123-05:00Time Flys When You're NOT Having Fun!<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I know what a bad year feels like.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It was enough that I had been depressed since Halloween, but I was still muddling through life & routines of have to do's. Then this year hit!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Between the 3 of us (me, hubby & son) we have tried to outdo the other as to how sick we can get. Seriously, it's been so bad I can't believe six months have gone by.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">First it was hubby having hallucinations & talking to dead people. He went for five days with no real sleep before I realized he wasn't gonna get any better. He doesn't even remember it. This was from his potassium & sodium levels dropping too low. He pulled out 3 IVs before a nurse thought to wrap the site with gauze to keep him from messing with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I couldn't leave him for a minute nor could I sleep either for fear of what he would do. I left him in a chair to go to the toilet in the hospital room & by the time I got back he had pulled out the 3rd IV, but hadn't gotten it out all the way & there was blood all over the room. I freaked out! I don't think anyone believed me when I told them how he acting until then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Shortly after that, his doctor came in & stood him up & held him by both shoulders & talked to him keeping eye contact. He was fine for a few minutes. The doctor turned to say something to me & hubby went off into one of those hallucinations. The doctor ordered something to knock hubby out. I don't believe either of us would have made it through the night if he hadn't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">After his potassium & sodium levels got back to normal, he was fine. Another doctor had tried to make me believe it was Alzheimer's, but I knew better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Then it was me having a bout of 48 hour stomach flu that lasted two weeks and I mean two weeks of not getting more than a few feet away from the toilet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">There's been 4 ER visits, 3 hospital stays, several falls (which are really bad for an old person), & all 3 of us are just getting over pneumonia. That's just the highlights!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I really want to find some comedy in all this, but I'm not laughing yet!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The pneumonia was awful! Caleb got sick enough in just a few hours that I had to take him to the ER. Then the next day was mine & hubby's turn. We went to our practitioner that Monday morning & she started us both on antibiotics, but was saying it was sinus infection. Of course, I got shots too! It weren't no sinus infection!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">This was the weekend of a mystery illness outbreak in south Alabama announced by the CDC in Atlanta (5/19/13). Several people had died within hours of getting sick.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">By Wednesday morning, hubby was in the ER & had to be admitted. The next week, I was getting worse & practitioner wanted me in the hospital, but I had to take care of hubby. But by that weekend I had wished I had listened to her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">With the rheumatoid arthritis I have, everything I catch is so much worse. I was so really dog sick for over a month & then all I could do was sleep for the next 2 weeks. I think we had the mystery illness, but I couldn't believe that most people at the hospital hadn't even heard of it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have to say & make myself believe, about the last 6 months; it could have been worse!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Don't remember why not long ago I revisited the Bible story about Shadrack, Meshack & Abendego, but I feel like it was to reassure me that when we get in the fire, God is right there with us. And even if the fire consumes me, He will still be with me & I with Him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">A little post script; today is May 25, 2014 at almost midnight. I have been silent since I wrote this post back about June of 2013 altho it will probably post with today's date. I hope to start back writing soon, but I rarely ever get on the computer anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I had carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand (predominate) last November with less than good results. I haven't picked up a sewing needle or used sewing machines or quilted at all since. Keep telling myself I'm gonna get my butt in gear any day now. Just haven't been successful yet!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-19600154571228521532012-12-30T12:51:00.000-06:002012-12-30T12:51:14.933-06:00Not Just My Story<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Everyone has a story to tell & everyone has there own cross to bear & I never thought I'd be here fixin to turn 60 with so many regrets & wish I'da done's.</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We were in Burger King before Christmas & while Caleb was getting our breakfast I couldn't help but hear two old men talking. Well actually, one was doing all the talking & the other was either listening intently or asleep. It wasn't so much what the man said, but more my realization that he was telling his son's whole life story to the other man. Even while listening I thought WHY is he telling all this personal stuff in such detail & so publicly? I kept thinking if I were his son, well I wouldn't want my life story just blurted out for everyone to hear.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Guess what a blog is?! </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This is the main reason I've never attached my real name to my blog. Those that know me, & if I want them to know, know I have a blog & those that don't just happen across a somewhat anonymous story. Also if no real names are attached it could stand as fiction & hopefully no legal mess could ensue. Alas this is a true, dull ordinary lifetime that I'm recording.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And that was another thought in listening to the old man; people want to be remembered. The Bible says our life is but a vapor, here today & gone tomorrow.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I think of all the loved ones gone before me, but I knew them; lived in their lifetime & loved them. Caleb was born long after parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles & so on had long since passed. Even my stories of them are like fictional characters.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I can relate to the old man; he seemed to be reaching out in desperation for anyone who would listen & remember.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I do believe everyone has a story to tell & a story worth telling. Although we think sometimes we are alone in whatever circumstance we land in, we aren't. There is always someone else who's been there, knows someone that's been there or are going to be there in the future. For a lot of folks reaching out is the hardest part. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Think about that next time you hear your spouses' story for the umpteenth time or your child is speaking to you & you keep doing what you're doing & nodding your head & gruttin "uhuh". </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Yes, hand raised, guilty here! </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Thought I was being so clever always telling Caleb I hear with my ears & I have two of em! But it's that some one's attention we want, we want them to SEE us. This may be the only time you HEAR with your EYES!</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Most of the time I feel so overwhelmed by so much to do that there seems no time even for my family. And I have not been a very dedicated blogger. Usually I tell myself my best stories when I wake in the middle of the night.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm trying to do better, Lord knows I'm trying. I feel like He's trying to gently prepare me for something. After all, that's our purpose here on earth, to prepare for our eternal life with Him.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I find myself saying or thinking, wish I'da done or not done that when I was young. </span></em><em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">So I have to ask myself, will I ever need to remember WHAT I was doing when every one's life story was being told?</span></em>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-65375645414585460192012-10-23T13:26:00.002-05:002012-10-23T13:26:41.283-05:00Is This My Life!You know how life just slaps you in the face sometimes? Well, I got one of those out of the blue the other day. Was just sitting outside minding my own business and whop!<br />
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Where does this stuff come from? Is the devil taking advantage of my idol mind? Is this something that I actually thought of? Is God testing me? Or is this just one of those unexplainable happenings? And why does it even matter?<br />
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Well I can answer the last question. It matters because it was in my head and I want to reason it out. By the way, sometimes the slap is physical & sometimes mental. This one was mental. Suddenly, without warning, the statement 'is this what I want to do with my life' just popped in my head. And it sounded like a statement not a question. Weird huh?<br />
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So I've been comtemplating on the first part of the book of James. James 1:1 - "when you fall into various trials." Not 'if' but "when". This tells me trials will come.<br />
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Then looking down to James 1:13 - "let no one say when he is tempted, "I am tempted by God"; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone." So temptation is evil, but God can't be evil or do evil to us.<br />
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Then the next verse 14 tells me that temptation comes from being drawn into my own desires. So the devil didn't make me do it. I've always thought we gave him too much credit. But look at verse16 and notice "Do not be deceived". Does this refer to satan as the deceiver or to us deceiving ourselves? I think the latter. If so, then we have to point at ourselves when we fall into temptation which leads to sin.<br />
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Verse 17 is very reassurring to me. All good and perfect gifts are from God. And God doesn't change. Numbers 23:19 says "God is not a man, that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should repent."<br />
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It's interesting to me that the book of James is being written "to the twelve tribes which are scattered abroad" who, if I'm not mistaken, were all lost in history except for two.<br />
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Just a thought.<br />
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<br />4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-1665529287902101942012-08-21T13:45:00.001-05:002012-08-21T13:51:47.082-05:00Crazy's Not That Far Away<em><span style="font-size: large;">When hubby & I married nineteen years ago, I knew there would come a time there would be a bump in the road. What I didn't realize though was that 21 years difference in age can create a crater.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not handling caregiving very well this time. Hubs had a heart attack & open heart surgery March of 2010. Since then he mostly sits around & talks about how someday he's gonna get better. He wouldn't go to rehab after surgery, he quit home PT after 4 visits & he hasn't slept in a bed since he came home. Oh & he won't go to any doctor, just a nurse practitioner here in town.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He's developed neuropothy in feet & legs so he can't walk far or stand for long. This is part of what caused him to fall again for the umpteenth time yesterday. He's been so fortunate that he hasn't gotten hurt really bad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">One of my many short lived careers was a certified nursing assistant that was to lead to nursing school, so I more than understand what he's doing to himself. I think this is the main reason I am losing my last nerve with him. And of course I am extremely outspoken to him about the whole deal, so he is definitely WELL informed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I know this is a thankless yet noble calling to be a caregiver. But with the attitude I've had lately, the only thing noble about it is the fact that I haven't strangled him yet!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Caleb & I were talking the other day driving back from one of our great adventures to Wal-mart. I told him this is not where I thought I'd be in life when I was eighteen. In fact, don't think I've ever been where I thought I'd be. Seems I've used up most of my life taking care of someone else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Yes, I have been on the needing end too, but I never took pleasure in someone waiting on me & I always wanted to get up & get back to myself. Yes, I've told him he can't get better sitting on his butt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We went by the drugstore to pick up meds & met up with someone we hadn't seen in awhile. Hubs started kidding her about when was she gonna get married again. "Never" was her answer, "it's worse than taking care of a two year old". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hubs was picking at me last night & I don't take to that very well. I call it aggravation. Told him, "what you gonna do when you drive me crazy & I can't take care of you anymore?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He says, "You think I can't get another women?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I said, "Good luck!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And to top all the aggravation off, I've dropped my full glass of sweet iced tea two days in a row & had to clean it up. And in the same spot too! That's the ONLY clean spot in my house and that's the truth!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I keep remembering a time long ago after my mother died, I went to my dear Dr. Friday & told him I thought I was going crazy. He said, totally straight faced & serious, "If you think you're going crazy, you're not. Crazy people don't know they're crazy." Wonder if he put those words of wisdom in my medical notes?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">When hubs fell yesterday, we had to pick him up. He was messing around with junk on the porch, bent over to get something out from UNDER the porch & his knees gave out. He can hardly walk & he's trying to dig for junk that's been there for a hundred years. Maybe if I start talking about life insurance he'll quit some of this stupid stuff that he ought to know not to be doing. Things like this make me think men take a secret course in how to act like a two year old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So about directions to Crazy, I'm almost there. Will let you know, or maybe not.</span><br />
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<br />4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-71087039868984903782012-05-15T14:35:00.000-05:002012-05-15T14:35:50.834-05:00Warning! Whiney Post! - #1<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">There's a saying that goes something like: There are 3 sides to every story; yours, theirs & the truth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't remember who said this & not gonna look it up right now. I've always done my best to speak the truth or not speak at all. Yes, I think I'm one of those that will tell you the truth, if you ask for it, even if it hurts. But you've been warned that this is my whiny post, so go no further if you don't want to hear my story of random gripes & , yes, truths.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've always considered myself to be a poor person. Mind you, I know God has blessed me in many ways, just not with money. I am now 59 & never in my life have I had enough money that I could set it aside & let it grow for a rainy day. Most of the time I barely made it from pay check to pay check.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've never starved (afraid you can look at me & see that), nor have I ever been homeless (except for almost 1 time) & most of the time (not always) I eventually got my bills paid. I don't smoke or drink or do drugs although at times in my life I have been around people that have. I always thought it was a good thing I didn't cause I never could afford it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The most frivolous indulgences I have are internet service & our 2 computers & I can justify that as therapy to keep us from going nuts. My only other therapy is buying fabric for quilting, which I haven't done in so long that I'm beginning to get withdrawal symptoms (only another quilter could understand).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've never been on a vacation in my adult life except for once when my 1st son, Ben, was little, my exes parents took us to Florida. We got there late one afternoon, found a hotel room (no reservations made), ate supper, walked on the beach & wondered why everyone was packing up & leaving. Next morning a hurricane came in, so we packed up & left too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've had times when I was out of work & couldn't find any. I've been out of work for extended amounts of times because of illness or injury. I've always tried to have & keep a job. Some people think that when someone is out of work it's their own fault. That's not an all encompassing truth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I lost what I thought was a good job once because I hurt myself at work. When I got over it & wanted to get my job back, they had given it to someone else. So instead of going back into a management position with benefits, they gave me an hourly job & sometimes cut me to less than 20 hours a week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Well there's a saying about payback too, but I'll just think that one. The girl that took my job ended up robbing the safe then setting fire to the building to cover it up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Another job I had was at KFC. At the time, I knew the main reason I was fired, but nothing I could do about it. It's really bad to lose a job because someone decides to sleep with the boss to get ahead, but it wasn't until years later that another reason presented itself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Probably 20 years later, a girl that was working there with me at the time came to visit our church. We had seen each other thru the years, but not really been close. In talking she said do you remember when you invented the 'broasted potatoes'. Can you imagine the light bulb that went off in my head? After 20+ years I finally put 2 + 2 together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was shortly after my 'invention' that I was fired. I don't know this for a fact, but I'm guessing the owners of that KFC got some kind of bonus for submitting a new product to put on the menu. Money will do strange things to some people. There I was a single mother & only my income & poof it's gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was out of work 3 months before I found something else. If I hadn't had my mother to back me up we would have been homeless, helpless & hopeless. The next job I had to take was going in at closing time to clean which usually took til about 3 am or later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Have you ever thought about what it would take for you to become homeless? How long would it take to go thru your 'comfortable' savings just for living expenses? Well I think about stuff like this all the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I say God has blessed me & He has. Before I had a house & land to call my own, I had a trailer that got moved around a bit, but it was mine. I shutter to think of living in a cardboard box on someone else's land. & most people are foolish enough to think it could never happen to them. Do you really think that all the cardboard box dwellers grew up dreaming of living in one?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've never lived in an apartment/house with the knowing of having to pay rent the rest of my life. I may have to at some point, but I got other stuff I want to think about for now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Our house is in really bad shape right now. When we moved here 18 years ago, I was supposed to be able to work til regular retirement age or longer. My husband was supposed to be physically able to fix up the house with my help & with the help of our son as he grew older. All that didn't work out as planned. It may be falling apart, but it's paid for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My son has told me about a government housing project that is being built for poor people somewhere out west in the desert. Something he found on the internet. If this is true, this sounds like yet another American tragedy in the making; forcing people into a box so the government can wash their hands.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My thinking is, if they keep taking away disability & SS benefits & I can't pay my bills & the house does fall apart, I still got this piece of land. As of now in AL, at least, if you meet certain requirements, you can claim homestead & be exempt from property tax. I may not be able to have utilities or food, but I got an old barn out back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Now if all this comes to be & the government finds out poor people can still own land, I'm sure they'll find a way to take it away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Don't get me wrong. I love America. It's the greatest country in the world. It's just the people that run it. Sometimes I feel like my cat could do a better job. & when we do end up with someone with more than cat sense, the other idiots beat them down or add so much on that it's like 'what was the point'. I have no faith in our leaders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I numbered these posts cause I don't think I'm thru whining! Don't really think anyone is gonna read them, so if I get surprised & they do, I might end up with some 'unfriends' on fb. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">All I can say to that is "Oh well".</span><br />
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<br />4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-17015403809968791262011-08-24T14:52:00.000-05:002011-08-24T14:52:14.473-05:00When Home Is Forever<em><span style="font-size: large;">If you've ever lost a loved one you're probably with most folks. If not, you're either very fortunate that it hasn't happened yet or you haven't loved enough.</span></em><br />
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<em>I've had several online friends that have recently lost mother, father, grands & of course that sort of news brings back memories of my own losses. This got me to thinking about why I feel sad when I think of them. What is grief about?</em><br />
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<em>When my mother passed, she had battled cancer for nine long months. Surgery had been done to remove most of her liver, but no other treatment was recommended. She suffered greatly. Knowing what she went through & being there with her daily, I can say, although it was one of the hardest times of my life, it was a blessing being with her during her illness. </em><br />
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<em>All things had fell into place before she got sick that would allow me to be with her as much as I was. I was a single parent with only my income to support us. I had been out of work for about three months & things were looking pretty hopeless. My uncle, whom I had never worked for, came looking for my help. Later when we found out about mom, he would let me off anytime I needed to be with her for the day or several days.</em><br />
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<em>I went through such a depression after her passing & didn't realize what was going on. But that too had been taken care of years before by my being put into the care of a specific doctor that had also been mom's doctor, as was his father before him.</em><br />
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<em>Mother was 44 years old when she had me. She always told me the story of how she thought she wouldn't live long enough to raise me, so she wanted to give me up. In 1953 that wasn't a common thing to do. Her doctor in '53 was the father of our present doctor, but the son hadn't been born yet. Her doctor was going to adopt me.</em><br />
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<em>I've always marveled at the story of Jesus raising Lazareth from the dead. The shortest verse in the Bible is there in that story. Jesus wept. I've wondered why did He weep? He had to know He was going to bring Lazareth back from the dead. Maybe He weep because of the people's disbelief? Maybe it was the accusation of the sister blaming Jesus for not being there in time?</em><br />
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<em>Whatever the reason, Jesus wept & to the people there it must have seemed as in grief of losing a loved one. This tells me it is right to grieve at one's passing. But isn't grief the deep, emotional feeling of missing them?</em><br />
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<em>I sing to myself a lot, mainly cause no one else wants to listen. Sometimes it's old Journey songs or some crazy song I've heard that gets stuck in my head until I hear something else. But sometimes it's songs I need to hear; songs that comfort me. Beulah Land is the one going round now. </em><br />
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<em>"Beulah Land I am longing for you. And someday on thee I'll stand. There my home shall be eternal. Beulah Land, sweet, Beulah Land"</em><br />
<br />
<em>Anyone that has been with someone through a fatal illness doesn't need a play by play recap of the heartbreak, stress, anger, fatigue involved. But to be able to say, " It was a blessing to be with that person through it", does have to have Holy intervention. God gave me a wonderful gift to be with my mom through the worst & best time of her life & for me to be able to realize it.</em><br />
<br />
<em>I had the privilege of hearing her make her peace with God. I heard her cry out in disbelief, in sadness, in anger & then her take comfort in what He was giving her. When she left this world, she was ready.</em><br />
<br />
<em>My sister-in-law was there the night mother passed. After so many nights of me not getting enough sleep, I was exhausted. Sometime after midnight, I woke to mother calling my name just as she had always done to wake me. I raised up in bed & saw her standing at the closed door. She was young. I had never seen her when she was young. She said, "Cindy, everything will be alright" & she was gone. At that very second my sister-in-law was knocking on the door for me to hurry & get in mother's room. She was taking her last breaths.</em><br />
<br />
<em>I am convinced that there is no way that a loved one that has passed on, saved by their belief of Jesus as the Son of God & their Saviour, & standing before the Holy presence of God, can ever wish to be in a mortal body again. Knowing & experiencing all that my mother went through, there is no way I could wish her back in that condition. </em><br />
<br />
<em>So my grief is for me. It is my missing her presence & others I have lost. I don't believe she misses me. Instead, I think she watches for my presence with her when the time is right for me to come home.</em><br />
4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-21717707469538079072011-08-18T12:00:00.000-05:002011-08-18T12:00:58.706-05:00Don't Know Who Wrote This, But Sure Would Like to Give Them Credit!<div aid="toggleDetails" class="DetailToggle FB ClearBoth DetailToggleHover" id="mpf0_details" title="Show details"><div class="FBL"><em><span style="font-size: large;">This came to me in an email from a friend. No author was on it. If anyone knows where it came from, please let me know so I can give credit. I love this!</span></em></div><div class="FBR"></div><div class="FBA"></div></div><div class="ClearBoth"><div class="WideMessageBarContainer" id="mpf0_wideMsgBarPlaceholder"></div></div><div class="ClearBoth"></div><div class="SandboxScopeClass ExternalClass" id="mpf0_MsgContainer"> <style>
</style> <span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 24pt;">THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM THE SOUTH...</span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(207, 207, 209); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(155, 187, 89); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(75, 172, 198); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(247, 150, 70); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><span style="color: black;"><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(153, 153, 157); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div align="left"><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Onced and Twiced are words.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(196, 188, 150); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy!</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(141, 179, 226); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Jawl-P? means Did y'all go to the bathroom?</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(219, 229, 241); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div align="left"><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">People actually grow,eat and like okra.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div><div align="left" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><span style="color: black;"></span> </div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(242, 219, 219); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div align="left"><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Fixinto is one word. It means I'm fixing to do that.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(234, 241, 221); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(229, 223, 236); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><div><div> </div></div></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(218, 238, 243); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(253, 233, 217); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">The word jeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?'</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(196, 188, 150); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(141, 179, 226); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(214, 227, 188); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Ya'll is singular; All ya'll is plural.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(178, 161, 199); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You measure distance in minutes.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(146, 205, 220); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You switch from heat to A/C in the same day.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(250, 191, 143); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(148, 138, 84); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You know what a DAWG is.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(84, 141, 212); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You carry jumper cables in your car - for your OWN car.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(217, 149, 148); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You only own five spices: salt, pepper, mustard, Tabasco and ketchup.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports and motor sports, and gossip.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(118, 146, 60); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(178, 161, 199); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit a bit warm.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(49, 132, 155); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: yellow; font-size: 18pt;">You know what a </span></b><b><span style="color: #ffff7f; font-size: 18pt;">hissy </span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">fit is.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(227, 108, 10); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite pastime known as goin Wal-Martin' or off to Wally World.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: yellow; padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good beef stew or chili weather.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(146, 208, 80); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">Fried catfish is the other white meat.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!!</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div align="left"><div> </div></div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="3" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxMsoNormalTable" style="border-color: currentColor; border-style: outset; border-width: 2.25pt 2.25pt 2.25pt 1pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: rgb(0, 176, 80); padding: 0.75pt;" valign="top"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;">You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the SOUTH.</span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div align="center" class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: left;"> <em><span style="font-size: large;">Don't you love it!</span></em></div><div class="ecxyiv1651159642ecxmsonormal" style="text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">I'm sure this could be continued. Any suggestions?</span></em></div></span></span></span></div>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-43484279608294547842011-08-01T20:42:00.000-05:002011-08-01T20:42:12.530-05:00I Dreamed of Lavender<em><span style="font-size: large;">Do you have those times upon waking, that you just know you've had a wonderful dream, but no way can you remember it? Try as you might, it just slips away further & further until you even forget that you had the feeling of knowing.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This has been happening to me alot lately. Not sure if it's coincidence, the natural order of dreams or a commentary on my aging state of mind. Then during the day, or maybe even several days later, it just pops into my thoughts as clear as though I was in it in the present.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">Today was such a day for me. Whenever I remember a dream I have to wonder is there a message, a warning, a promise, something in there that I'm needing to get me through the day, through life.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">It is so vivid even though it's been hours since the pop happened. Could that alone make it a thought I need for some purpose yet unseen?</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">To put into words to descrbe the dream is an awesome task that I wish I was much better equipped for. And then to anaylze the meaning may truely be beyond me. The best I can do will have to do.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">I haven't remembered where or what I was doing in the dream, nor events leading up to the memory. I can see my hand holding a dead branch & I'm staring at it. I'm thinking, this is lavender. I've killed yet another lavender plant. As I stare at the branch it begins to sprout tiny buds. The buds grow right before my eyes. They open into leaves. Then gloriously the lovely lavender blooms begin to open one after another & the fragrance hits me & the color is so crystal clear.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">But that's all I remember. But I have this feeling of joy & hope inside. That's the feeling I woke with. That's how I knew I'd had a wonderful dream.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">All day I couldn't help but think of the time when God raised the dried bones & put flesh on them. I need to sit down & find that & reread it. Maybe this is the why of the dream, so I will get back into God's word.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">I still feel the hope in the dream; from dead to life, from ugly to glorious & that brings the joy.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">I've always told God if He really needed me to listen, He should shout & put His finger on the it I need to know. Not because I don't want to do what He wants me to, but because I can be pretty dense most of the time. Perhaps this is His way of shouting at me.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">He certainly knows me though. He knows I believe all true joy & hope comes from Him. </span></em>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-44699489249699468922011-06-11T15:41:00.000-05:002011-06-11T15:41:06.828-05:00Now I Know, There's No Place Like Home<em><span style="font-size: large;">When I was a teen I couldn't wait to grow up & leave Alabama; mainly the small town I had been born & raised in. Mother would just give me a look that I didn't quite grasp the meaning of until I was much older. Now I know!</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Until you appreciate yourself, your uniqueness, how can you expect others to? And until you're around others that are different from you, how can you tell your differences?</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I mentioned in the previous post about our first quilt guild meet this month & how about 10 of us ladies had gone to the Chinese restaurant for lunch. We had a great meet & a great lunch, but it was the company, companionship that we shared that made it so special.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Most of our group is locals; folks that have always called this home even if they have lived out of state for periods in their lives. But every once in awhile we get a transplant. Right now we have two that I can think of right off.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Betty is a transplant from Vermont. A super sweet person, but not at all loud & boisterous like most of the rest of us. She does have grown children & I just know those kids were never hollered at when they were little. Betty is so soft spoken that when she does speak, by the time everybody gets thru saying, "Ssssh, Betty's talking", she's halfway done.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our other transplant is Marcie. She came to us from California via Minnesota. Now that's a combination! But I don't think she was quite ready for Alabama.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At meet the other day, she needed to know if southerns had a problem giving directions. She had called another member, Judy, about meeting a small group at another members house. Marcie's telling us this story. Judy tells her to leave her house & head to 280 (main highway), cross 280 & go to first red light & turn. Marcie says ok, sounds simple enough.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Said she crosses 280 & she starts immediately looking for the red light. In California, there's one on every corner. She keeps driving, no red light. She keeps driving, no red light. She keeps driving, no red light.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fifteen miles later, there's the red light. She wants to know is this the way people around here give directions. She asks, "Is this a southern thing?" And we're all like yeah that's right. And Judy's like, " well you found us!"</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So when we take off to lunch together, the conversations continue in about the same manner. Marcie is so funny at pointing out the uniqueness of Alabamians. Course it's not a one sided observation. She has us rolling in the floor doing her Minnesota accents & phrases, but that's a gotta be there & hear it thing.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At one point something came up about not cooking, husbands & do you think I have a boyfriend. At that moment, the crowded restaurant went silent. People love to hear other folks juicy stuff. Thought maybe any minute we were gonna be asked to leave, but not! That would have cost them about $100 if we all got up & left.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then one of our southern girls, Susan, came over with an observation to add. She was an English teacher at one time in Louisiana. Started talking about the southern word y'all. You should hear Marcie say that! Another roll of laughter. You'd think we were all having drinks other than sweet tea. Or maybe the sweet tea was the problem; all hyped up on sugar.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway Susan said she had figured out that y'all being a contraction for you all was the only word where there could correctly be two apostrophes in a word. Example: Get y'all's quilts & bring them with you. The first apostrophe is the contraction & the second apostrophe shows possession.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Course we all agreed this rule should be added to the American English language. Told them I had always thought y'all should be just one word yall, but since this new rule would be so unique, I give.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So thinking about my mother's look she always gave me when I started the leave Alabama routine; she knew one day I'd find out for myself. There's no place like home!</span></em>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-48933038020504299902011-06-09T16:47:00.000-05:002011-06-09T16:47:57.368-05:00History & A Lesson Learned<em><span style="font-size: large;">No matter how unimportant, minuscule, mundane, insert your own adjective you think your life is, you have lasting impact on others without even trying.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Even if you try to hermitize your life, like I have at times, you still impact others by the lack of your presence & input whether positive or negative. As I look back on my life, I can see that even the ugliest, hurtful times have helped make me a better person & if not better, the person I am.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I get some of my best ideas for this blog while chatting with friends on Pat Sloan's forum. I'm sure they must think I talk too much, but no one has told me to shut up yet, & I do TRY self control & somewhat limit myself.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I was relaying to them my happenings on Tuesday which is my quilt guild 1st meet day of the month. We always have such a super time, but Tuesday was exceptional. We had a great meeting then afterwards, a group of about 10 of us went to our favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. Now THAT lunch is a whole nother story.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">After I left them, I went to Walmart to get a few things. It was so hot & walking over that big store didn't help. I was so hot & sweaty all I wanted to do was go home & shower. I was almost done when I heard someone call my name.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It was Mary. I had seen her briefly about a year ago at same Walmart, of course. We had gone to high school together 40+ years ago & had become friends. That in itself is not the story.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The story is that was the time of the 60's in the south, in Alabama in particular, around the time that George Wallace was/had been governor & the schools were just beginning integration. Mary was one of two black kids that were put in the white school. Don't know if it was voluntary, forced, paid or what; don't remember us ever discussing the how/why she was there.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">If the situation had been reversed & I had had to go to the black school, there's no way I would have done it. Not just because it was the black school, but because it was different. I was shy back then, but more than that I was selective. It meant something special for me to talk to anyone or be friends so mostly I kept my mouth shut.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">This meeting with Mary, she brought up all these memories, she wanted to talk about it & what it meant to her to have a friend. She said something bout how she had seen that I never talked to anyone, but I talked to her & she couldn't believe it. I don't remember all that, but apparently she does.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Each one of us live in a part of what will become history. Each one of us make the history around us. I do believe God always guides our lives, whether we are willing to follow or not. I don't mean predestination, I mean He cares for us & He makes a way, a path, for us to follow. Sometimes it takes years for us to find that path, sometimes we may feel as though we never find it & sometimes it just pops up at Walmart & you look back & see at least once you were on it.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It would have been normal for me to treat her the way I guess she expected to be treated in that time & circumstance. I was brought up just like everyone else, with normal being a division, a prejudice towards blacks. And then they were called many other names besides blacks or African Americans. Coloreds was a common name.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I still have much of that prejudice instilled in me. Although I believe we are born into the evil of this world, I also believe love & hate are learned & although we all possess the traits of good & evil, it's what we choose to let rule our life that makes us.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">As a quilter, color is an important factor in what I do. Even shades of one color can be very striking or bland depending on how they are used. If you think about it there is color everywhere. It's one of those gifts from God that make the world beautiful. And we as people are all colored, all different shades of color.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I thought Mary was gonna cry talking about this. She reached for me for a hug. Told her I was hot & sweaty, but she didn't care. If she had started crying, my heart would have melted. Then I couldn't be the tough broad life has made me. I would have cried too.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So in parting I told her, "I guess we just needed each other." So that's the history lesson here. We do all need each other. Each of us has a part to play in someones life. We chose whether for good or evil, love or hate.</span></em>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-88931541018425157782011-05-24T19:01:00.001-05:002011-05-24T19:13:38.469-05:00Tents & Roads Not Taken<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's sad how words come back to haunt you. Something said yesterday or 20 years ago creeping back into your head & making you think of things best left alone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder if other people do this. Or do they just bubble along from day to day like never a care can touch them. Guess I think too much, especially when I'm down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">In these times, when I'm wanting so not to be in this life I'm living, I try to lift myself up & say it's all for a reason; there's a lesson to be learned that I need to learn. But that little irritating voice pipes in to say 'naw that's not it, you made a bad decision along the road.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">'A bad decision.' I've heard that recently from someone in relation to someone else. Is that how people explain the wrongs that happen. Is everyone in two neat little groups; the ones that have made bad decisions & the ones who have it made?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So where is the line? Someone that has lost their job through no fault of their own, then lost their home, then the family fell apart, was that a bad decision to have taken that job because they were gonna lose it? Or was it a bad decision because they didn't foresee losing the job & seek another before failure hit them?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I see one of the have it made's, I think they've never known how it is to get down & nothing you seem to do makes it right. They seem to overlook the scenario that one day could be their day to find out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">And sometimes Christians are the worst at seeing their blessings for what they could be; a taste of what they could be doing without. There is this thing called practicing humility. Sort of like practice what you preach. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've kinda taken off down a different road myself. Meaning, I'm trying to look at something that happened in my family yesterday, take out the anger, the hurt feelings & see where it leads me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Seems all thoughts lead me back to bad decisions & roads not taken. And the thought just occurred to me, how blessed it would be to be satisfied with your life. But would it really be a blessing. When you really think about that it seems sorta like sleeping in church; you miss a lot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So what to do about this dilemma I have of not wanting to be living my life. How many times have I said, 'when all else fails, read the directions.' Now THAT would be turning it over to God & truly trusting Him to walk with me through whatever happens. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">But I always think I have to fix it; it being whatever is broken. Just who do I think I am?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">At least 20 years ago, a friend & I were talking about relationships. She was having hubby problems & me, I don't remember, except that I was divorced at the time. And the words that are coming back to haunt me now, "if I had someone who truly loved me, I would live in a tent & pee in the woods."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">At the time, that statement was the personification of the love I could have for someone who truly loved me. Although I couldn't physically survive or pee in the woods now, the jest of it remains true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">But where I am now, I do not feel loved. So why am I here? And am I here to learn a lesson I need to learn. I can think of a few I know I should learn. And if this is where God wants me to be to make me into who I should become, who am I to say this is a bad decision.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">A road is a road. You never know what's down at the end of it until you get there.</span>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-21390277237787314702010-12-25T19:06:00.000-06:002010-12-25T19:06:04.976-06:00Turkey Juice Explosion - How Was Your Christmas?I'm cured of turkey! Never to infinity do I ever want to feel the urge to cook turkey again. Don't think I even want anything made of turkey, at least for a long while.<br />
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Sitting here thinking of the event, I still can't wrap my head around it. Even during, it was surreal; like slowmo.<br />
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I've been without a conventional stove for several years now, at least, the oven part. You have to learn to adapt in situations like this. So far, a toaster oven and a crockpot have sufficed.<br />
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Thought I was doing so good for this Christmas even planning to fix turkey and trimmings. Once several years ago, my hubby and younger son actually had the nerve to gripe about a Christmas meal after I had slaved for two days cooking. For about the next three years, they got hot dogs for all holiday meals.<br />
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The huge food fixing frenzy at holidays has always been a big tradition in our family, as probably it is with most families. I may not be a five star, own TV show chef type, but I am by no means an amaetur at the game. I think mom put a paring knife in my hand as soon as she trusted me with one. And even before that, I helped with little kid stuff like peeling eggs or mixing stuff.<br />
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So I had bought a turkey roaster last week for the 13 pound turkey I had bought at Thanksgiving and couldn't cook cause it wouldn't fit in any of my alternative cooking appliances. Man was that a bummer! Thaw turkey, get up early to start cooking, wash and baste it, mess up everything in the kitchen trying to find something it'll fit in, end up wrapping it with plastic wrap, throwing it back in the freezer and going back to bed. Don't remember what we had, but it sure wasn't turkey.<br />
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Yesterday I roasted this wonderful turkey. The roaster oven cooked it up so well and fast, even browned the skin. Was so pleased. Planning to cook ahead a little, I wrapped my turkey up good after cooling, so it wouldn't dry out and strained the juice in a stainless boiler ready to heat up to mix dressing.<br />
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This mornings finishing touches were to be so simple. Make the dressing. That was the only really time consuming part left to do. Oh, but my turkey broth was already strained and in a boiler all ready to heat and add to the cornbread cooking.<br />
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So I put this golden liquid on the stovetop to heat. I turn my back for two seconds and it boils over. Ok, caught it. Not too much damage. Weird though. The stuff isn't even hot. Maybe it boiled over because I had the lid on.<br />
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I turn the eye back on, tilt the lid and turn to work on the celery. In the mist of all this, I've called Caleb in to retrieve a bottle of sage that I couldn't find.<br />
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That's when it happened! I am so glad I had a witness cause I still can't believe it myself and I was there. Just as we were turning from the pantry, that lid exploded off the top of that boiler and turkey juice was fueling it's climb! The only thing the juice didn't cover was the space behind my body! How it missed my hair I can't figure out, but everything else was dripping with greasy turkey juice!<br />
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It got the ceiling, the walls, the window by the stove, all my canisters, counters and the floor was so covered, I was scared to move for fear of sliding down. It even got the toaster and the toaster oven that were plugged in. It would have kept going if it hadn't blown out the gas burner under it. And I didn't even think until now, it could have caught fire!<br />
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Of course, with Caleb being a teenager, he laughed so hard I thought he was gonna pass out. Me? I was thinking: cry, throw-up, or leave. But instead I had to play grownup. Rats! I really would have liked to have chosen the latter.<br />
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I think I hate turkey! Still can't figure out why. I mean, the stuff still had not gotten hot. I'm sure someone smarter than me could come up with some scientific explanation, but here's a real scientific fact from actual experimentation; luke warm turkey grease can be used as a cleaning agent.<br />
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Yeah, you heard that right! When I got to wiping up all that mess, that burnt on gook around the burner eyes came off with just soapy water. And you should see the bottom of that copper clad Revere Ware boiler the juice was in. So shiny! If only I had thought soon enough and set my entire set of copper cookware on the floor before we mopped up the grease! Duh!<br />
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Maybe next time. Oh, but there's not gonna be a next time cause I hate turkey!<br />
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You should have heard my hubby later when I finally finished cooking. He complimented the meal so many times it became comical. Like if he didn't, I might never cook again. Now there's a thought!4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-83231195725153652292010-11-18T09:22:00.000-06:002010-11-18T09:22:06.842-06:00Every 20 Years or So - Part 3The incident about the teacher finally made it to a local newspaper. Probably only because someone had recorded it and posted it to You Tube. Still just unreal to me.<br />
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There have been times in my life that I was pretty much satisfied with myself and times when I was pretty much disgusted. Been thinking lately about where I am right now, where I've been and where I'm headed. Most of this type of thinking brings me back to my first son, Ben.<br />
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I was twenty when he was born and it was kinda like we grew up together. I was married to his father at the time, but we divoriced two or three years later. Because of our closeness, I always trusted him completely. Looking back, that was my greatest mistake.<br />
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Only fair to say he doesn't see things as I do. Our relationship now is strained to nonexistent. Sometimes it feels like we never knew each other at all. Or like it was another life.<br />
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When I'm in this mind set, I look back and try to figure out where it went wrong. Like I have to pinpoint a certain location in our history and label it, but life isn't like that. Instead it's little bunches of this and that until they just pile up and spill over.<br />
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One flashback I had this morning happened when he was about seventeen. I had bought him a car that was nothing but trouble from day one. It was a classic Camero; too much work, too powerful.<br />
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This particular a.m. I woke from a dead sleep knowing Ben was in trouble. Checked to see if he was home, but already knew he wasn't, got up and dressed and started cruising town to find him. It didn't take long. He was on the road talking to a policeman, his car was down a six plus foot imbankment and a wrecker was on the scence trying to pull the car up. He looked up and saw me and the first thing out of his mouth was, "momma, how did you know?"<br />
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That was probably gonna be one of those secrets he kept from me. Yet even then I trusted him; I wanted to trust him. Is it wrong to want to trust your child? No, but it's wrong to believe you can. Sure there's a time when you as a parent have no more say or influence; when children are almost grown and they are sure they know everything. Believe it or not, even I was once a teenager.<br />
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But still I pick at all this stuff and try to figure out what happened. I hope it ends up being a good thing, but my son now, Caleb, hears way too many horror stories about those days with Ben. It's like this, I'm not going through that crap again and now I know what to watch out for, so Caleb doesn't have a chance. 4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-45875411003682593012010-11-08T15:42:00.038-06:002010-11-10T08:28:50.622-06:00Every 20 Years or So - Part 2<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>So last week my teen son mentioned that one of his last year's teachers had finally come back to school. So naturally I asked why she had been out. He said she had been beat up by a student. A female student had hit her several times in the face, got her down on the floor and started kicking her. The teacher had been out for about a week.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>What has this got to do with my story? It shows the attitude of much of this generations lack of care for anything or anyone but themselves. </p$1><p$1>I suppose every generation is the worst in the previous generations eyes. And I suppose this has been so since the beginning of time. Sorry, don't really want to go back that far. My concern is that things of this nature seem be considered normal, even routine.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>Ok, I'm going to say it. Back in my day, if I had even got close to an incident of violence involving anyone, especially a teacher, I would have gotten my butt kicked at home. NO! Worse than that. I'd a got a whoopin'! </p$1><p$1>There seems to be no shame for certain behavior. And there seems to be an effort on the school system's part to keep things like this a secret.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>Even with my first son, things were not like this. Most kids still showed respect for adults and certain situations. In other words, I wasn't afraid to go to my first son's school and walk down the hall without an escort.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I have to say that I am a critic of this public school system and the school system in general. My dislike for this system and the way it is run contributed to the decision for us to home school for nine years. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done to allow my son now to return, at his request, to this school system which I truly hate. </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
<br />
<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>While I believe with all my heart, teaching is a calling, a very noble proffession, it is also infested with teachers who do not teach. </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>It's not my intention to bash teachers. Even in this school system, there are some very good teachers. And how do I define a good teacher? As one that stands before her or his class and talks about the subject in a way that gets the student to think and get involved. So how do I define a teacher who doesn't teach? As one whose class instruction is handouts, with reading straight from the book, with playing video games instead of being involved in class time, one who won't take questions & belittles any who try to ask one.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>As the saying goes, if the shoe fits... Why this even matters here is because even an unruly, rebellious, undisciplined child might reconize dedication and passion and care shown toward them. As on the other hand, that child might reconize having a teacher with less as a sign that they the student are seen as a hopeless case so may as well not bother.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>And I understand, one huge complaint all teachers have is that they spend most of their class time discipling. Well if that's the case, all those college grads ought to be able to think of a better way. I've always thought that parent involvement would be a key factor in gaining better control of the classroom. But years ago I had an administrative position person actually say to me that some parents you wouldn't want around your child. Hello! Job Screening! It's like what all employers do.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>Like it's been said a million times before, it all starts at home; teaching that is, whether good or bad. And to pharaphase the Bible, "Teach a child the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it". When a child is taught right from wrong, whether or not he chooses to do the right thing, the teaching doesn't leave his mind. </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-12022272231770508472010-11-01T14:27:00.000-05:002010-11-01T14:27:01.694-05:00Life as Cookie DoughThis is only like my 4th blog post. Got one from September not published yet and will continue Every 20 Years or So. Still just a newbie. And when am I suppose to post when there's just way too much info out there to consume. I been reading some really good blogs. Lots of interesting & smart people.<br />
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One thing I kinda noticed though when checking out other sites, whatever that blogger writes about is ususally the type of blogs they follow. I found that interesting. Surely people have more than one interest, one focus? Surely I'm not in the minority of deversification? But yet I see this over & over. If it's a quilting blog, then most of the links are to other quilting sites. If about horses, then most of the links are to other bloggers with an interest in horses. Huuuummm....<br />
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Ok, so I got to thinking hard about this. I've recently admitted to the fact that I'm a starter and not a finisher. There, see I even put it in writing. I enjoy doing handwork, sewing, whatever, but right now I'm calling myself a quilter. Now is that because I have done many quilts or have started many quilts.<br />
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Carry this idea over to other areas of my life and I see the same pattern. I start, but I don't necessarily finish. I did finish the two courses I took in college though, but that was after quitting high school & doing basicly nothing for ten years, then deciding to go back to school.<br />
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As you can see from some of the blogs I follow, they have nothing to do with each other. No common thread. Where it seems these people have specialized focus, I am scattered.<br />
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Now whether or not one way or another is good or bad could be a question. Maybe not. Maybe more of an observation. I quess I'm using this blog to sort of look at myself and the way I see things. And hoping to make myself what I think to be a better person.<br />
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My life feels like it's been a big batch of cookie dough with chocolate chips and a drop is here and a drop is there and the chips are totally random.4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-67256722087583589262010-10-29T10:41:00.044-05:002010-11-18T09:43:07.658-06:00Every 20 Years or So - Part 1<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I follow Beta Dad's blog. He and his wife are raising twin girls. In commenting on one of his posts I had mentioned I had two sons 20 years apart. He gave me new inspiration to ponder. The idea was about the differences in the generations of teenagers.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>When I was a teen it was the late 60's and early 70's. The generation known as the baby boomers, but then we were called the generation of sex, drugs & rock n roll. It's so strange to think of my life back then. I was really into rock music; Stones, Doors, Joplin, Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane. Wow, this is really weird.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>No, I didn't go to Woodstock. I can remember being at my sister's house in Florida and watching clips of it on the news. I think that was the summer of 69 and I was 16. I lived through so much of what is now considered history, probably ancient to some.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>THIS WASN'T SUPPOSE TO POST NOW!!! Computer blinked & went crazy when it came back on, so this post is still in progress.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I really hated high school. There was this one boy who tormented me all the time. He made my life miserable. He just doesn't know how fortunate he is that I was a different person then. I was so timid I wouldn't take up for myself. Now I realize he helped make me who I am today. I may be a Christian, but I wouldn't have put up with his crap now for one second.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I think the older I get, the meaner I get and I'm really not a mean person. It's just that I've been through so much in my life that I've decided not to put up with anything I don't want to. For example, back this spring I was at the gas station. I was pumping gas minding my own business and this bunch of young boys started a shouting match across the parking lot. Seemed like two groups that were mad at each other and they were being vividly vocal and more so.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I kept thinking this is a public place, I have the right to be here & not listen to this & they're gonna stop any minute now. Well, I had had enough! Let me say here, when I scream, people shut up! I told them exactly what I thought about their display and I don't think I used any nasty words except for CRAP (which seems to be my motto lately). And I demanded an answer. I remember screaming "Do you think this is any way to act in public?" And I kept screaming questions like that until I started hearing some "no mams & yes mams & sorry mams".</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>And to top it off, there was a man sitting in a car at the next pump and he said to me, "I'm glad you told them that, they don't need to be talking that way in public." I thought to myself, "why in the CRAP didn't YOU call them down then?" By then I was too mad and too hoarse to say anything so I shut up.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>I don't suppose this would have had the same end results, say if I had been in New York City, Miami, LA or other large city. But this is the south, in a sparsely populated county, in a rural area where most people here have lived all there lives. Most everybody knows everybody except us. We're the newcomers, the outsiders, the city (LOL) folks that moved here 17 years ago! Yeah, no you can't know what I mean. Back when I was going regular to church, there was a family there that had moved here 20 years ago and the husband made a statement about that they were just beginning to be accepted. </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>OK!</p$1><p$1><p$1>THIS MAY TAKE AWHILE!!! I had more to say than I thought I did, but I really got to go wash dishes.</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-34363079614773212212010-10-28T11:30:00.000-05:002010-10-28T11:30:59.554-05:00Forever YoungI can remember when I was very young, I would wonder how other people felt. How it was to be them. Looking back, that was a pretty deep thought for a child. Problem is I still wonder. Not to the deep extent that I did back then though. Now my wonderment is clouded with real life, real experiences, real dreams, real disappointments.<br />
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What is interesting to me is that I've never cared what someone thought of me. And I think most people do care what others think. Most people put so much into making a good impression, being cool, fitting in with the crowd, etc. that they don't even know who they are. I can't remember a time when I cared one way or another what someone thought of me. It's always been a take it or leave it package.<br />
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I love music and right now I'm listening mostly to Contemporary Christian. Mercy Me has a song 'Beautiful' on their new CD Mr. Lovewell. I saw a You Tube video with Bart Millard (lead singer, husband, father) talking about what inspired him to write this song. He talked about his children and the influences of this day and age that caused little girls especially to feel that they could never measure up to what the world expected of them, but that in God's eyes we all are beautiful; splinters & all (this is my take on his statement, but it's a 'need to see it for yourself' thing).<br />
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Though I've never given much consideration for other people's opinion about me personally, I can understand that this is an important message for all of us. It's a reminder that even though we generally put labels on each other, God sees us all the same. And He loves us all the same and He is ready to forgive us all the same.<br />
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I am thankful for groups like Mercy Me that are not ashamed to stand before the world and our youth to sing the message that God has given them.4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-37481833325124465262010-10-28T10:26:00.000-05:002010-10-28T10:26:37.791-05:00It Would Be So EasyWhen I mentioned to my family that I was going to start a blog, they asked what did I have to write about. Then, almost in the same breath, my husband announced he didn't want me writing about him. Oh but it would be so easy to write about him. He's the reason my life borders between insanity & halarity.<br />
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Take the other week for instance. I needed to run to town and pay a bill. I've got to set this up though. I'm southern so 'run' doesn't necessarily mean in the literal sense. In this case it means 'to drive'. The bill I needed to pay is only two blocks away so I always pay in person. <br />
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Our driveway is on a slight incline and on a corner intersection, so when backing out you need to proceed with caution but quickly. I don't like to change into drive until I've come to a complete stop so of course there's the brake action put into play here. Then I have to almost immediately stop again for a stop sign. Then there's a wide left turn, slow down for another intersection, pot hole, stop sign, turn right on major highway, then pull over & park. Sounds a bit complicated for two blocks, but really quite simple.<br />
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OK done and I'm there getting out to pay my bill. Only by accident do I walk around to the back of my truck and I find a surprise sitting on the bumper. Our mail from yesterday! And sure I know who put it there and it wasn't the postman.<br />
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Ok maybe the postman is a little to blame since he's started running later. Caleb usually gets the mail when he comes in from school. But since now the postman hasn't run, he comes on in the house and we get busy with stuff and forget about it. Hence yesterday's mail, but important none the less.<br />
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I could probably write a book, but instead I turn the truck around and retrace my path and hope that if something fell off no one else got it and I see it. Yeah it would be so easy to write about him, but I'll try real hard maybe to refrain. Hey, I don't think he's gonna read this anyway.<br />
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I just love family. Don't you?4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8087743642558861736.post-28105033729228712152010-09-27T10:45:00.000-05:002010-09-27T10:45:13.205-05:00A God Wink? *<p$1>Riding down the road the other day.......I was listening to the radio, which is unusual for me and that's another story, and heard an old Eagles' song (I think?). The line that caught my attention was kinda "so often times it happens, that we live our lives in chains and we never even know we have the key". Of course, the song had absolutely nothing to do with the Christian lifestyle or journey, but my thought was how it perfectly states our journey.</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>Think about it.......how we let the world, life, fears, obligations, money, possessions, you name it come into our thoughts and wrap chains around us. And sometimes we go along for awhile thinking "we can fix this", yet the chains get longer and heavier until we are bound. And then when all seems most hopeless, where do we look?</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>It amazes me.......that even people that claim to not believe in God or Jesus will call on Him in times of total hopelessness. That alone is proof that He is the key. The key that breaks our chains that we wrap around ourselves. Sure there are some who would not even call on Him then and scripture gives them a very appropriate name; 'LOST'. What a sad name. What a sad word.</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>How amazing God is.......that He could choose to speak to me through a what maybe 20+ year old rock song. Only He can use something so extremely out there for a typical believer, yet He knew me. He...knew...me. I don't believe in coincidence. Long, long ago I heard that song over and over and over again, but this day I heard it with a new message. One that God had planned for me long ago.</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>Watch and pray.......because God has something He wants to tell you, but you've got to be ready to hear it. Even if it takes years.</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>Galatians 5:1 nkjv.......Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>2 Timothy 2:19 nkjv.......Nevertheless the solid foundation of God stands, having this seal: "The Lord knows those who are His," and, "Let everyone who names the name of Christ depart from iniquity."</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>And this is one of my favorite verses;</p$1><br />
<p$1>John 8:36 nkjv......."Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed."</p$1><br />
<p$1>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p$1><br />
<p$1>*References the book "When God Winks at You" by Squire Rushnell</p$1>4dreamsrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543927369718207701noreply@blogger.com0